I was 15 when my parents divorced; my mother was 38. I remember looking at her one day, shortly after the ink was dry on the papers that severed her legal ties to my father, and thinking, “She’s so old now. Her life is over,” because those are the things you think about your parents when you are in your mid-teens and haven’t yet found the wisdom that will (hopefully) make 38 your half-way point, not your end.
Divorce changed everything for us. It changed our location, it changed the dynamic in our home, and it changed my relationship with my mother.
What I had no way of knowing then was that divorce altered nearly all of my mother’s relationships, as it does so often. Being on the other end now, walking alongside sisters in Christ as they confront the one thing they were sure would never happen to them, I see it. Divorce robs women of more than husbands; divorce strips away many of the previously close, supportive ties that once gave them a framework of community.
It doesn’t happen all at once. I’ve seen it time and again, and the song always starts the same. A crack is revealed. Nothing that shatters the whole vase — I’m not talking cases of abuse, or criminal activity, or something too dark and awful to even contemplate. Just something that interrupts the normal, happy veneer of marriage we see every Sunday. We hear it through prayer requests, or it is brought out in Small Group. He cheated. He’s impossible to live with. He’s disconnected. He puts work before home. We hear the confession, feel the agony of their transparency, and we pray.
We pray because we know God is big enough. We pray because we want healing. We pray because it’s never Plan A for the wheels to come off a marriage. We pray because we are friends.
And we are good friends in this time. Like we have always done, we call. We check in. We invite the struggling couple to come around our happy table in the hopes that some of our unity will wear off. We watch kids so that Mom and Dad can date as Husband and Wife. We ask how therapy is going. We listen.
But then there’s a shift, and that crack becomes a fissure leaking the lifeblood of a family out into the open. Somewhere along the line, the dam breaks and there’s nothing left. The marriage is laid to rest in a courthouse, or a lawyer’s office, and all the hope and optimism and joy that surrounded its beginning is forgotten. All that is left to do is pick up the shattered pieces and learn how to live with Plan B.
Plan B looks like a woman wondering if years of unemployment by choice can somehow translate into enough income to keep the lights on. It looks like a 14 year-old kid, homeschooled all his life, riding a school bus for the first time. It looks like an adult moving in with her parents, or a teen called on to be childcare for younger siblings so that Mom can make up the child support shortfall in multiple part-time jobs. And, too often, it looks like a single Christian woman, no longer a wife, being quietly asked to find a new Bible Study, because this one is for couples. Or sitting alone in a pew on Sunday morning. Or drifting away from a best friend. Or being slowly omitted from social calendars because … well … it’s awkward.
I’m not interested in debating causes, or right and wrong, or blame or judgment. This post is not about “Is divorce ever ok?” or where the church stands on sin or defining a standard of doctrine. Ladies … sisters in Christ … hear me. What I’m saying is that we can — we must — do better for the women we love who are living Plan B.
These women are not projects. They don’t need or want you to fix them, or their children. They don’t want your platitudes or empty assurances that “God has a plan.” They definitely don’t want to wander the halls of the church that was once home feeling as if they wear a massive scarlet “D” on their chest.
They want your friendship. Your love. Your invitation to share life. They want your prayers that, despite Plan B, God is still sovereign, and He is working in their life, and in the lives of their children.
They need your friendship, all of it– as it was before the wheels fell off. They need the same friendship you extend to all your friends, not just your “divorced friends.” The encouragement and laughter, the perspective and rebuke, the truth of Scripture spoken over them. They need real community, as much if not more as they did when they were married.
I have friends who are divorced and, I assure you, it is not contagious. I am every bit as in love with and dedicated to my husband as I was when I took my vows.
You can love a friend after her marriage has ended. Please … can’t we try?
The only thing I would add to this is to include divorced men. The ones who now have to choose between going to work and leaving kids unattended at home or missing a day of income because they no longer have a wife to care for their children and can’t afford to pay anyone for it because they’re drowning in the expenses of a divorce they didn’t want. The ones who have to add the disclaimer of “I’m a single dad” when their kids (especially their daughters) invite friends over, assuming the child won’t be allowed to visit, because so many people assume every unsupervised man will assault their children. The ones who are simultaneously grateful for and embarrassed by the help from their parents that they so desperately need. The ones who no longer know how to define themselves because all they ever wanted was to be a family man and now their kids are away from home half the time. Being divorced is hard, regardless of gender. Being a single parent (which is often the case post-divorce) is hard, regardless of gender.
There was so much more I wanted to add– including addressing dads. I decided to focus on moms because that’s the bulk of my personal experience.
Divorce is just rotten for everyone. It’s no one’s dream. Ever.
The one element you did not address is sometimes the woman herself changes. As a pastor’s wife of more than two decades, I’ve seen some divorcing women who become bitter and angry and spend a great deal of time criticizing their ex-husbands, trying to get people to side with them. They have unrealistic expectations of how much their friends should help them, babysit their kids, fix things at their house, all because they are divorced. They place a huge burden on their friendships. Their friends can keep up with it for a while, but after a time, they naturally start to pull back because the expectation is too high. I’ve seen other women who go through the same hurts, but they do not spend time complaining about their ex-husbands. They don’t continually ask for favors. In essence, they do not change, and they don’t change their expectations on their friends. They ask for some help, but it is not demanding. In those cases, they continue to receive the love and support that they always had. So, the woman going through the crisis plays a huge role on how her friends will treat her.
As a child of divorced parents, I agree: divorce is rotten for everyone, including the friends who want to help but can only do so much.
Being in the midst of a divorce for biblical reasons on multiple accounts, I’ve found moving to a different church – a big one – has been a lifesaver for me. There are more people there like me, further down the road, more support overall. That’s not necessarily the answer for everyone, but it’s been good for me & my children.
This is a great article I’ll be sharing. Thank you.