Over the past few months I've had friends who have separated and then divorced, or separated and then reconciled, or whose spouses have died. It feels weird to be at that stage of life. This kind of thing always used to happen to "adults" - to a generation of people who were older than me. Now it's happening to my friends, to MY generation. It's brought marriage into focus for me in a way that hasn't happened in a while.
As I've been contemplating the ultimate cause of marriage break-down, and the sequence of events that has lead to the breakdown of various marriages I know, I realised afresh that I can never sit back and assume that my marriage is risk-free, or divorce-proof. There are things that could lead to my marriage breaking down, not because I stopped loving my hubbie, or because he stopped loving me, but because we simply 'grew apart'.
G and I have been through hell with losing Zoe. We've grieved differently, and have tried to give each other space to grieve in whatever way we felt personally appropriate. We've tried hard not to impose our own way of dealing with our grief on the other. The result has been that we haven't been communicating as well as we used to - partly because it's just been too hard to share the depth of grief, and partly because we've been afraid of what the conversation might do to the other.
Add to that the fact that we have both struggled with our faith. I came close to losing mine, and G is still struggling. It's hard talking about something this important with the person you love the most, because of what it might do to them. As I've been rediscovering my faith, I've tried hard not to put any pressure on him to feel the same way. It's been hard, and I don't know how successful I've been. Still, he is getting counselling now, which is an important step in his grief journey. As much as I want him to be where I am in the journey, I know that he still has a long road ahead of him, and I don't know where his journey will take him, or where he will end up.
A question that I've pondered is what would happen to us, to our marriage if he decided that he wasn't a Christian anymore, or didn't believe anymore. Faith has been a central pillar of our relationship since the beginning, so what would happen if he wound up on the other side of the fence, if losing Zoe ultimately caused him to lose his faith? I know that I wouldn't choose to leave him if he were to make that decision. He's an awesome husband and father, an incredibly moral person who loves me and the kids. I don't think that would change if he lost his faith.
BUT...
If we no longer shared the same core values, I pondered how that might affect us. Aside from the obvious issues of how to handle Sundays and the inevitable questions from the kids about why they and I were all going to church and Daddy wasn't, I realised that I would no longer feel comfortable sharing any of my reflections or emotions with him as far as my faith was concerned.
If he were to stop believing that God existed, I would worry that when I talked about my faith he would be secretly thinking that I was being ridiculous, or superstitious - although that wouldn't be in character for him. Never the less, the fear that he would be thinking less of me would remain. If he shared his reflections and emotions with me, about deep stuff, I would want to bring God into the equation, which would be out of the question, and he would know that, which would leave us both feeling awkward. This would ultimately result in us both withdrawing and no longer sharing with each other, because we're both conflict averse and don't want to put the other person in a corner.
I realised that if I stopped sharing with him, or vice versa, we would stop communicating at a heart level. Currently, when our lives get on top of us, that's exactly what we do. We stop communicating. The result is that we start to misunderstand each other, pre-judge each other, misjudge each other. We become defensive and snappish. We start living past each other. It's HORRIBLE. It struck me that while we might both love each other, if we stopped sharing, if we stopped communicating, that would be the death knell for our marriage, although it might take years or a decade or two to actually die.
So, while I wouldn't choose to leave him, if he were to say he no longer believed, I don't see how our marriage could ultimately survive. That means that I have a lot vested in the outcome of this journey he's on. Yet, I can't put any pressure on him, because whatever happens, he needs to know that the journey he's on is his own. He needs to work it through himself, he needs to find the solutions without feeling that I've pushed him in a particular direction. But how he can't feel pressured after we've discussed this...? I have no idea.
About 8 months after G and I were first married I was ready to get out. I wasn't sure that our marriage was going to work, and I wanted out, before we brought kids into it. My folks got divorced in the most amicable way possible, and it still messed me up. I didn't want to do that to my kids. We went for counselling though, and we're still together, 13 years later.
But losing Zoe was not something I ever thought would happen to us. Losing a child often causes a marriage to break up, for exactly the reasons I've outlined above. I always assumed that we would make it. I never had reason to doubt.
It scares me being the one who has to stand on the sidelines, watching, waiting, hoping, praying, but all the while knowing that I have limited power to help him, or to protect my marriage. The possibility that he will come down on the other side of the fence scares me, but I can't make that choice for him, and I can't pressure him into making the safe choice. I have to leave him in God's hands, to walk the path he has to walk, to struggle through as I have had to struggle through, to battle his own fears and doubts and questions, until he comes out on the other side - wherever that may be.
And even if he finds himself on the other side, I will still love him, and honour him. I will still cherish him. I will still continue to commit my all to him, to making this marriage work, because that's the vow I took - 'everything I am, and all I have, I share with you... for better and for worse'. He's my man, and I love him.
'Faith is being sure of what he hope for, and certain of what we do not see.' Heb 11:1
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Saturday, June 06, 2009
Mawwage: that bwessed awwangement....
"Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something." (If you don't know where that quote is from, then I humbly suggest you get a life.)
I've been married now for just over 11 years. Shocking. I know. Doesn't feel like it. I can still clearly remember walking down the aisle, all those years ago, feeling panicked, but thinking quietly to myself that it wasn't too late - I could still back out of this. All I had to do was say 'No, I do not' when I was asked the pertinent question.
Clearly, I didn't. I'm not sure whether it was because (at the time) I was too scared not to follow through when ALL THOSE PEOPLE were watching me, or because I loved my man enough that the love overcame the fear. Probably somewhere between the two.
Do I regret my decision? On balance, no. I'm very fortunate to have married an incredible man. The longer we are together, the more I appreciate him. He's funny, intelligent, caring, dependable, (usually) thoughtful, supportive, cooks, takes care of me, and loves our daughter enough to get down on the floor and play with her. (He happens to have a bunch of faults, but who doesn't?) Oh yes, and he listens to me!! There are few men in the world today who can tick all those boxes. (Of course, I also happen to love him, which helps a hang of a lot!)
Does that mean I've never wanted out? No. There have definitely been times where I've had enough, or been bored, or thought there must be something (or someone) better out there. At times like those, if thought that if there was a feasible way out I probably would have taken it. However, especially with a child, divorce is not (to me at least) a feasible way out.
Now don't hear me wrong: I am NOT saying that no-one should ever get divorced. There are definitely times when divorce is the lesser of two evils, or when it should actively be sought out. Having lived through my parents' divorce though, I made a vow to myself and to God that I would never go that route. So, when things get tough, I eventually give myself a stern talking to (because the source of the problem, let's be honest, is usually blown out of perspective in my perception of the relationship). 11 years on, and we're still together.
Some of our family though, are not so lucky. I know that certain family members would not want to be identified publicly here, so I'll simply say that there are currently two close family members who are both have marriage problems. The one has had a trial separation and is now back together (although things aren't 'fixed' yet), while the other is going through a divorce. The first, thank God, has no children. The second has 2 kids - the youngest is not even a year old yet. In the midst of all this, and despite all this, one of Graeme's brothers is about to get married (hooray!) after a period of co-habiting.
In a recent edition of Time Magazine, there was a short article about the international trend away from marriage in favour of co-habitation. Aside from the spiritual perspective (which is no small thing for a large sector of the world), marriage was often seen as a way to get a tax break, and to ensure that women (in particular) & children were provided for. The article pointed out that because the laws in most countries now provide at least some measure of legal and financial protection for a surviving partner, or for partners left destitute after the relationship breaks up, or for children born out of wedlock, much of the reason for marriage has fallen away.
While we were in the UK, I did a year's course called 'Workshop' (run by the Anvil Trust) that looked at everything to do with Christianity. While on that course, we did a very interesting study on marriage, and how God views it. Essentially, in God's eyes, it was proposed that marriage equates with (consensual) sex. The piece of paper, or the ceremony held in front of witnesses, is only there as a protective measure for both the parties marrying and for the community in which the couple exists. The real deal, as it were, is whether or not you've had (or are having) sex with another person. If you are, then God sees you as married. (Thus, in God's eyes, co-habiting IS marriage.)
A lot of research has been done over the past 30 years, gathering statistics about co-habitation. It is interesting to note that only about 50% of co-habiting couples get married; that the remaining 50% break up within 5 years; and that for the 50% who do marry, their chances of divorce in the first 5-7 years are double that of any couple who has not co-habited. There are lots of very good reasons for this - like the fact that many people who choose to co-habit rather than get married already have a tainted view of marriage because their parents got divorced, or that they place a much higher value on independence & personal freedom, and therefore view marriage in a less committed light than those who do not co-habit. (Here's a really good summation of the various relevant points about why marriage is better than co-habiting, and why some people still choose co-habiting over marriage, for those who are interested in reading further.)
What many people seem surprised by is that the break-up of a co-habiting relationship is just as painful and messy as a divorce. If you accept what Workshop teaches about how God views marriage, then it shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone. God's view is that through sex, two people become one entity. Divorce tears that one entity apart, which is why it hurts so much. In addition, there is the dissolution of the household and finances to negotiate, possibly including pets, and sometimes children need to be considered as well.
Co-habiting does not make a subsequent marriage any easier. It does not confer any advantages on the couple's relationship. It is therefore highly advisable that ANY couple choosing to marry (but especially those who have been co-habiting) get some pre-marriage counselling.
My marriage went through a very rocky patch in our first year, and that despite having attended a good pre-marriage course. Everyone who marries finds the first year tough, but we had additional problems to deal with: I was very, very ill for the first 9 months. I got sick with flu on honeymoon, then had several flu's in quick succession, and thus proceeded to develop bronchitis, pneumonia and then pleurisy. I was flat on my back in bed for months. Not a great way to start a marriage. Our first year was also not helped by the fact that we had a tremendous amount of baggage to deal with, as we had had a relationship (with each other) previously that had broken down. The only way to fix that breakdown was either to marry each other, or never see or speak to each other again. The issues that caused that first relationship breakdown were still present when we married (hence my extreme reluctance while walking down the aisle). Combined with my illness, our marriage was set to self-destruct.
Our salvation was - ironically - the marriage itself. We had both taken a vow and we both took our vows seriously. Our vows included the words "for better or for worse, in sickness and in health". In order to honour those vows, we went for counselling. We learnt how to communicate with each other and we learnt a lot about each other. Our marriage has survived, but I don't take it for granted that it has. I recognise that many marriages break down much later on - around 15 years, or else around the time when the kids leave the house (so for us that would be in another 20 years time, or so). I recognise that unless we continue to work on the relationship we will only be steering a course for the rocks. There is no such thing as a divorce-proof marriage. It doesn't exist. Even I, who abhors divorce, could wind up getting divorced.
While I love my hubbie and I love our life together, while I'm really REALLY pleased I said 'I do' and not 'No, I do not', while I could not imagine life without my hubbie or our kids, while I think marriage is a lot of fun, it has also been really, really hard work. In some senses, to paraphrase Wesley: Marriage is pain, Highness. Anyone who tells you otherwise has never really committed to it.
I've been married now for just over 11 years. Shocking. I know. Doesn't feel like it. I can still clearly remember walking down the aisle, all those years ago, feeling panicked, but thinking quietly to myself that it wasn't too late - I could still back out of this. All I had to do was say 'No, I do not' when I was asked the pertinent question.
Clearly, I didn't. I'm not sure whether it was because (at the time) I was too scared not to follow through when ALL THOSE PEOPLE were watching me, or because I loved my man enough that the love overcame the fear. Probably somewhere between the two.
Do I regret my decision? On balance, no. I'm very fortunate to have married an incredible man. The longer we are together, the more I appreciate him. He's funny, intelligent, caring, dependable, (usually) thoughtful, supportive, cooks, takes care of me, and loves our daughter enough to get down on the floor and play with her. (He happens to have a bunch of faults, but who doesn't?) Oh yes, and he listens to me!! There are few men in the world today who can tick all those boxes. (Of course, I also happen to love him, which helps a hang of a lot!)
Does that mean I've never wanted out? No. There have definitely been times where I've had enough, or been bored, or thought there must be something (or someone) better out there. At times like those, if thought that if there was a feasible way out I probably would have taken it. However, especially with a child, divorce is not (to me at least) a feasible way out.
Now don't hear me wrong: I am NOT saying that no-one should ever get divorced. There are definitely times when divorce is the lesser of two evils, or when it should actively be sought out. Having lived through my parents' divorce though, I made a vow to myself and to God that I would never go that route. So, when things get tough, I eventually give myself a stern talking to (because the source of the problem, let's be honest, is usually blown out of perspective in my perception of the relationship). 11 years on, and we're still together.
Some of our family though, are not so lucky. I know that certain family members would not want to be identified publicly here, so I'll simply say that there are currently two close family members who are both have marriage problems. The one has had a trial separation and is now back together (although things aren't 'fixed' yet), while the other is going through a divorce. The first, thank God, has no children. The second has 2 kids - the youngest is not even a year old yet. In the midst of all this, and despite all this, one of Graeme's brothers is about to get married (hooray!) after a period of co-habiting.
In a recent edition of Time Magazine, there was a short article about the international trend away from marriage in favour of co-habitation. Aside from the spiritual perspective (which is no small thing for a large sector of the world), marriage was often seen as a way to get a tax break, and to ensure that women (in particular) & children were provided for. The article pointed out that because the laws in most countries now provide at least some measure of legal and financial protection for a surviving partner, or for partners left destitute after the relationship breaks up, or for children born out of wedlock, much of the reason for marriage has fallen away.
While we were in the UK, I did a year's course called 'Workshop' (run by the Anvil Trust) that looked at everything to do with Christianity. While on that course, we did a very interesting study on marriage, and how God views it. Essentially, in God's eyes, it was proposed that marriage equates with (consensual) sex. The piece of paper, or the ceremony held in front of witnesses, is only there as a protective measure for both the parties marrying and for the community in which the couple exists. The real deal, as it were, is whether or not you've had (or are having) sex with another person. If you are, then God sees you as married. (Thus, in God's eyes, co-habiting IS marriage.)
A lot of research has been done over the past 30 years, gathering statistics about co-habitation. It is interesting to note that only about 50% of co-habiting couples get married; that the remaining 50% break up within 5 years; and that for the 50% who do marry, their chances of divorce in the first 5-7 years are double that of any couple who has not co-habited. There are lots of very good reasons for this - like the fact that many people who choose to co-habit rather than get married already have a tainted view of marriage because their parents got divorced, or that they place a much higher value on independence & personal freedom, and therefore view marriage in a less committed light than those who do not co-habit. (Here's a really good summation of the various relevant points about why marriage is better than co-habiting, and why some people still choose co-habiting over marriage, for those who are interested in reading further.)
What many people seem surprised by is that the break-up of a co-habiting relationship is just as painful and messy as a divorce. If you accept what Workshop teaches about how God views marriage, then it shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone. God's view is that through sex, two people become one entity. Divorce tears that one entity apart, which is why it hurts so much. In addition, there is the dissolution of the household and finances to negotiate, possibly including pets, and sometimes children need to be considered as well.
Co-habiting does not make a subsequent marriage any easier. It does not confer any advantages on the couple's relationship. It is therefore highly advisable that ANY couple choosing to marry (but especially those who have been co-habiting) get some pre-marriage counselling.
My marriage went through a very rocky patch in our first year, and that despite having attended a good pre-marriage course. Everyone who marries finds the first year tough, but we had additional problems to deal with: I was very, very ill for the first 9 months. I got sick with flu on honeymoon, then had several flu's in quick succession, and thus proceeded to develop bronchitis, pneumonia and then pleurisy. I was flat on my back in bed for months. Not a great way to start a marriage. Our first year was also not helped by the fact that we had a tremendous amount of baggage to deal with, as we had had a relationship (with each other) previously that had broken down. The only way to fix that breakdown was either to marry each other, or never see or speak to each other again. The issues that caused that first relationship breakdown were still present when we married (hence my extreme reluctance while walking down the aisle). Combined with my illness, our marriage was set to self-destruct.
Our salvation was - ironically - the marriage itself. We had both taken a vow and we both took our vows seriously. Our vows included the words "for better or for worse, in sickness and in health". In order to honour those vows, we went for counselling. We learnt how to communicate with each other and we learnt a lot about each other. Our marriage has survived, but I don't take it for granted that it has. I recognise that many marriages break down much later on - around 15 years, or else around the time when the kids leave the house (so for us that would be in another 20 years time, or so). I recognise that unless we continue to work on the relationship we will only be steering a course for the rocks. There is no such thing as a divorce-proof marriage. It doesn't exist. Even I, who abhors divorce, could wind up getting divorced.
While I love my hubbie and I love our life together, while I'm really REALLY pleased I said 'I do' and not 'No, I do not', while I could not imagine life without my hubbie or our kids, while I think marriage is a lot of fun, it has also been really, really hard work. In some senses, to paraphrase Wesley: Marriage is pain, Highness. Anyone who tells you otherwise has never really committed to it.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Heart breaker
I had an incredible conversation with a parent this afternoon.
One of the boys in one of my classes has had a really bad year. Not knowing the boy beforehand, I thought that's just how he was. He simply wasn't interested in working: seldom brought his books to class, never did his homework, seldom paid attention in class. After several months of trying to get him to work, and failing, I had all but given up on him.
This afternoon I learnt that this little boy has been having a horrendous time at home. For 13 years he and his very much older brother had had his mother all to themselves. His father left them when he was born, and he's never seen him since. They had been living in a flat on their grandparents' property. (For a long time, as a child, he apparently thought that his grandfather was his father.)
Then at the start of this year, he came to high school. Coming from a township junior school, that was a major adjustment for him. At the same time, his mother remarried. Her new husband comes with attachments - two kids of his own and his mother. Not only did this boy have to adjust to the new family, but he and his mother moved into his step-father's house, while his older brother remained behind in the flat. He has lost his brother, his extended family, his childhood home, and his special relationship with his mother all in one fell swoop, and all at the same time as having to cope with a new school and no friends. In addition, I discovered that from the time his mother started dating her new husband, she began to change. She used to be a very traditional Muslim. Now, she wears make-up and dresses in a very nontraditional fashion. No doubt, the boy misses the mother he's used to, and sees his step-father very much as the person responsible for not only the change in his mother, but for all the changes in his life.
It's no wonder the boy wasn't interested in school! The more detail his mother gave me, the more my heart broke for this little boy. I remember well how it felt to me when my mother remarried. I was a lot older, but I still found it difficult to adjust. I got to stay in my home and my step-father came to live with us, but I still found it difficult to adjust. I didn't lose contact with any of my other family, but I still found it difficult to adjust. I can only imagine what this boy is going through.
For most of the year, he refused to talk to anyone about his behaviour, or the cause of it. It wasn't until a few weeks ago when he broke his arm as a result of punching a wall that his mother thought she should take him to a psychologist. Only through the psychologist's intervention has he been able to talk about what is going on in his life, see it for what it is, and begin to put his life back together. I'm amazed he didn't turn to drugs, alcohol or suicide.
The more I have reflected on his story this afternoon, the more broken my heart has become for him. I keep remembering how I felt as a child, and I keep thinking about how worried I would be about Janel if Graeme were to disappear (through death, rather than divorce, I hope!) and I were to remarry. Then I keep remembering things I've said to this boy throughout the year.... and I cringe with shame. I know that as teachers we can't be all things to all students. I know that we don't have time to parent all the difficult kids in our classes. I know that we're not trained counsellors. I know that I can't blame myself for this boy's behaviour. If his mother couldn't figure it out, then I don't suppose I should expect myself to. But I do blame myself. I do shoulder the responsibility for not having pulled this boy aside at more appropriate moments, and making the time to really listen to him.
It amazes me that it took this mother a year to seek help. I guess that, having been through my parents' divorce and remarriages, I'm more aware than many about the impact of adult relationships on children. Speaking personally, if I were his parent, I would have got a counsellor for my child BEFORE the event. I would have got counselling for the ENTIRE family during the event. And I sure as hell would not have waited a year after the fact to get my child help.
But then I guess it's been a major adjustment for her too - from having no husband to having one, from having one young child to having three, from having no in-laws to having one living in her house, from living in her own space to living in someone else's, from having a close relationship with her son to having an angry one, from having both her sons living with her to having only one, from having her parents next door to having them far away.... I guess I can understand how in the midst of all that change it would be difficult to make the time to really think clearly about what's happening inside your child's head and heart.
My heart breaks for this little boy, and for his mother, and for their whole blended family. Even now, I can still see signs that this mother isn't seeing clearly. I hope and pray that the counselling she and her son are getting will enable them both to heal, and will save this family from further damage.
One of the boys in one of my classes has had a really bad year. Not knowing the boy beforehand, I thought that's just how he was. He simply wasn't interested in working: seldom brought his books to class, never did his homework, seldom paid attention in class. After several months of trying to get him to work, and failing, I had all but given up on him.
This afternoon I learnt that this little boy has been having a horrendous time at home. For 13 years he and his very much older brother had had his mother all to themselves. His father left them when he was born, and he's never seen him since. They had been living in a flat on their grandparents' property. (For a long time, as a child, he apparently thought that his grandfather was his father.)
Then at the start of this year, he came to high school. Coming from a township junior school, that was a major adjustment for him. At the same time, his mother remarried. Her new husband comes with attachments - two kids of his own and his mother. Not only did this boy have to adjust to the new family, but he and his mother moved into his step-father's house, while his older brother remained behind in the flat. He has lost his brother, his extended family, his childhood home, and his special relationship with his mother all in one fell swoop, and all at the same time as having to cope with a new school and no friends. In addition, I discovered that from the time his mother started dating her new husband, she began to change. She used to be a very traditional Muslim. Now, she wears make-up and dresses in a very nontraditional fashion. No doubt, the boy misses the mother he's used to, and sees his step-father very much as the person responsible for not only the change in his mother, but for all the changes in his life.
It's no wonder the boy wasn't interested in school! The more detail his mother gave me, the more my heart broke for this little boy. I remember well how it felt to me when my mother remarried. I was a lot older, but I still found it difficult to adjust. I got to stay in my home and my step-father came to live with us, but I still found it difficult to adjust. I didn't lose contact with any of my other family, but I still found it difficult to adjust. I can only imagine what this boy is going through.
For most of the year, he refused to talk to anyone about his behaviour, or the cause of it. It wasn't until a few weeks ago when he broke his arm as a result of punching a wall that his mother thought she should take him to a psychologist. Only through the psychologist's intervention has he been able to talk about what is going on in his life, see it for what it is, and begin to put his life back together. I'm amazed he didn't turn to drugs, alcohol or suicide.
The more I have reflected on his story this afternoon, the more broken my heart has become for him. I keep remembering how I felt as a child, and I keep thinking about how worried I would be about Janel if Graeme were to disappear (through death, rather than divorce, I hope!) and I were to remarry. Then I keep remembering things I've said to this boy throughout the year.... and I cringe with shame. I know that as teachers we can't be all things to all students. I know that we don't have time to parent all the difficult kids in our classes. I know that we're not trained counsellors. I know that I can't blame myself for this boy's behaviour. If his mother couldn't figure it out, then I don't suppose I should expect myself to. But I do blame myself. I do shoulder the responsibility for not having pulled this boy aside at more appropriate moments, and making the time to really listen to him.
It amazes me that it took this mother a year to seek help. I guess that, having been through my parents' divorce and remarriages, I'm more aware than many about the impact of adult relationships on children. Speaking personally, if I were his parent, I would have got a counsellor for my child BEFORE the event. I would have got counselling for the ENTIRE family during the event. And I sure as hell would not have waited a year after the fact to get my child help.
But then I guess it's been a major adjustment for her too - from having no husband to having one, from having one young child to having three, from having no in-laws to having one living in her house, from living in her own space to living in someone else's, from having a close relationship with her son to having an angry one, from having both her sons living with her to having only one, from having her parents next door to having them far away.... I guess I can understand how in the midst of all that change it would be difficult to make the time to really think clearly about what's happening inside your child's head and heart.
My heart breaks for this little boy, and for his mother, and for their whole blended family. Even now, I can still see signs that this mother isn't seeing clearly. I hope and pray that the counselling she and her son are getting will enable them both to heal, and will save this family from further damage.
Another member of the family... or two
Nope - that's not the announcement that we are pregnant - much as we are hoping to make that announcement soon!! We've been practicing hard... we're just waiting to see whether the hard work has paid off, the investment has brought returns, etc, etc.
Instead, congratulations must go to Graeme's brother who has ... [I was going to say something like 'hook' or 'bag', but in thinking about it, that's a pretty vulgar way to describe this fantastic event. No, let me rather say it the old-fashioned, and much more tasteful way.] ... just got engaged to a lovely lady. The family are THRILLED!! What is also pretty amazing is that all 3 boys in the family will be married to girls who were born (and therefore matriculated) in the SAME YEAR! Graeme married a (much) younger lady. (I keep him young.) Robert is marrying a girl roughly his own age, while Philip has married an older woman (who keeps him in line). But wait! There's MORE. Their only sister was ALSO born in the same year!! How freaky is that? So, all the Broster girls (yes, on this occasion I'm happy to be referred to by that name) are the same age. There's got to be something in that, don't you think?
The other congratulations goes to my cousin whose second child was born this afternoon - Myles. Thus far, Myles has joined an elite club on my side of the family... he is one of only 5 boys, amongst 13 girls. Interestingly, 3 of the other 4 boys are the 2nd child. Although that's not a huge sample size to go by, it does seem that if you're going to have a boy in this family, he's going to be your 2nd child. Hmm.... we already have a girl's name picked out for the next one (sad, I know). Maybe we ought to be thinking of a boy's name?!?!
Anyway, huge congrats to Jeanine, Mike and Emily on the latest arrival; and Rob and Gina on their engagement. We love growing families!
Instead, congratulations must go to Graeme's brother who has ... [I was going to say something like 'hook' or 'bag', but in thinking about it, that's a pretty vulgar way to describe this fantastic event. No, let me rather say it the old-fashioned, and much more tasteful way.] ... just got engaged to a lovely lady. The family are THRILLED!! What is also pretty amazing is that all 3 boys in the family will be married to girls who were born (and therefore matriculated) in the SAME YEAR! Graeme married a (much) younger lady. (I keep him young.) Robert is marrying a girl roughly his own age, while Philip has married an older woman (who keeps him in line). But wait! There's MORE. Their only sister was ALSO born in the same year!! How freaky is that? So, all the Broster girls (yes, on this occasion I'm happy to be referred to by that name) are the same age. There's got to be something in that, don't you think?
The other congratulations goes to my cousin whose second child was born this afternoon - Myles. Thus far, Myles has joined an elite club on my side of the family... he is one of only 5 boys, amongst 13 girls. Interestingly, 3 of the other 4 boys are the 2nd child. Although that's not a huge sample size to go by, it does seem that if you're going to have a boy in this family, he's going to be your 2nd child. Hmm.... we already have a girl's name picked out for the next one (sad, I know). Maybe we ought to be thinking of a boy's name?!?!
Anyway, huge congrats to Jeanine, Mike and Emily on the latest arrival; and Rob and Gina on their engagement. We love growing families!
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Our history
OK. I promised a post briefly summarising the walk we've had as a couple. Actually, I don't know how brief this will be, but I'll try my best.
Graeme and I met in 1993, and I knew instantly that he was the man for me. It took me about 9 months to convince him that I was worth dating. But we started dating in 1994. After dating for years, our relationship turned destructive for reasons I don't really want to get into in such a public space as this, and we broke up in 1997. After 6 months apart, we got engaged, and 6 months later we were married, in April 1998.
On honeymoon I became very ill, and proceeded to be incredibly ill for about 9 months. During these 9 months I developed bronchitis, then pneumonia, then pleurisy. The GP I was seeing basically told me that I either had to have bed rest at home, or be admitted into hospital, because if I didn't I was going to die.
Between the problems we'd had before we broke up and the stress of my illness, our marriage basically fell apart before it even started. Because my parents are divorced, and I've seen first hand what a divorce does to a family, I decided that if our marriage wasn't going to work, I'd rather get divorced early (ie after 9 months of marriage) than have kids and THEN have to get divorced. Graeme persuaded me to try marriage counselling, which we duly did, and it saved us (obviously, as we're still together!). While it didn't sort out our issues, it did give us a means of communicating with each other that enabled us to start to rebuild the trust that had been broken by our break-up. The other life-saver for us was that roughly 18 months after our marriage (in Feb 2000) we left South Africa for London.
This is not because there is anything wrong with SA, but because we needed to be in an environment that forced us to rely on each other, that took us completely out of our comfort zones and left us with absolutely no security other than God and each other. We left our families and our friends, and arrived in a city where we knew no-one, with no jobs and nowhere to stay. We also had the "joy" of supply teaching in a culture that is just different enough from SA culture to be completely disorientating. (Unless you've done it yourself, you won't believe the stories we could tell, so I won't regale you with any now.)
By the middle of 2000 we had both changed careers. Graeme was working in IT and I was working as a PA cum worship leader for my church. During 2001 I went through a course of particularly harrowing counselling and Graeme had a short course as well. It was necessary work, but Graeme didn't find it particularly helpful. I found most of it helpful, but it left me in a place that wasn't good. It helped me to forgive others who had hurt me through my life, but it didn't help me get to a place where I could forgive myself for my own actions. (Odd that I found it possible to accept God's forgiveness but not feel able to forgive myself...) So we both finished that feeling let down and isolated.
One day, when I have the courage to face my demons publicly, I'll write a book about it, because I think there are lots of Christians who need to know that even Christians sin, even Christians get it wrong. Christians can still be drug addicts, or prostitutes, or murderers, or child molesters. Just because we're saved does not mean we're sorted. It means we're on the road to being sorted, but some of us are just taking longer to get there than others. I think there are a lot of people who need to hear that. And I want to extend to them the kind of forgiveness and love and welcome that I doubt I would have received from most of my Christian friends if they knew what I'd done at the time... Anyway, that's off the topic....
Since then, as I've worked through the forgiveness issue, I found myself back working at various schools that required a lot of love on my part. Eventually, suffering from depression, I went for another bout of counselling, which helped fix the depression and made me realise that my job was killing me, and by proxy, my marriage. After being physically and verbally abused by some of the kids I taught, I resigned and moved to my last school, which was much better. Graeme was going through some personal stuff at this time as well, which I don't feel I can share - I'll leave that for him at another time.
One of the reasons my job was killing me and us is that I believed it was the wrong job. I had started to pursue the possibility of becoming an ordained minister in the Church of England. This is something I have wanted since I was a little girl, but till then, I had never dared to share this dream with anyone.
Anyway, everything went very smoothly until the last hurdle (selection conference), at which I was told that I wasn't suitable, for reasons that (even now) I find very hard to accept. I can't begin to explain how that affected me. It's the closest I have ever come to losing my faith, and it was touch and go for a long time. Because I hadn't shared the fact with many people that I was trying for ordination, our grief over my rejection (euphemistically called non-selection) was very private, and therefore all the more intense. As Graeme was struggling with his faith too, it wasn't easy for us to cope as a couple. At the time that we got the news about my non-selection, I fell pregnant with Janel. Trying to cope with that, on top of dealing with this massive rejection and the resulting faith fall-out was tough to say the least.
In the midst of all this, Graeme's family went through a rough time as his great-aunt, uncle and gran all died within about a year of each other. I sat the death-watch with his great-aunt. Saying that now sounds so benign, but it was one of the most harrowing events I've experienced. Graeme found the death of his gran particularly difficult as he couldn't attend her funeral.
But by the grace of God, we got through what was a very difficult period.
Then we fell pregnant with Zoe, and lost her... She's not the first child we've lost. We lost another one several years ago, at 8 weeks. We don't know the sex of that child, but we decided to name 'him' Malcolm. Losing a child... well, there just aren't words to describe how tough that is, so I won't try.
This post comes out of a comment I made about how tough a road we seem to have walked, rather than what an incredible experience our marriage has been. So if I've made it sound like our life has been a living hell for the last 14 years, be reassured that it hasn't. We've had times of joy - like watching Nellie grow up - this just wasn't the place to express them.
Graeme and I met in 1993, and I knew instantly that he was the man for me. It took me about 9 months to convince him that I was worth dating. But we started dating in 1994. After dating for years, our relationship turned destructive for reasons I don't really want to get into in such a public space as this, and we broke up in 1997. After 6 months apart, we got engaged, and 6 months later we were married, in April 1998.
On honeymoon I became very ill, and proceeded to be incredibly ill for about 9 months. During these 9 months I developed bronchitis, then pneumonia, then pleurisy. The GP I was seeing basically told me that I either had to have bed rest at home, or be admitted into hospital, because if I didn't I was going to die.
Between the problems we'd had before we broke up and the stress of my illness, our marriage basically fell apart before it even started. Because my parents are divorced, and I've seen first hand what a divorce does to a family, I decided that if our marriage wasn't going to work, I'd rather get divorced early (ie after 9 months of marriage) than have kids and THEN have to get divorced. Graeme persuaded me to try marriage counselling, which we duly did, and it saved us (obviously, as we're still together!). While it didn't sort out our issues, it did give us a means of communicating with each other that enabled us to start to rebuild the trust that had been broken by our break-up. The other life-saver for us was that roughly 18 months after our marriage (in Feb 2000) we left South Africa for London.
This is not because there is anything wrong with SA, but because we needed to be in an environment that forced us to rely on each other, that took us completely out of our comfort zones and left us with absolutely no security other than God and each other. We left our families and our friends, and arrived in a city where we knew no-one, with no jobs and nowhere to stay. We also had the "joy" of supply teaching in a culture that is just different enough from SA culture to be completely disorientating. (Unless you've done it yourself, you won't believe the stories we could tell, so I won't regale you with any now.)
By the middle of 2000 we had both changed careers. Graeme was working in IT and I was working as a PA cum worship leader for my church. During 2001 I went through a course of particularly harrowing counselling and Graeme had a short course as well. It was necessary work, but Graeme didn't find it particularly helpful. I found most of it helpful, but it left me in a place that wasn't good. It helped me to forgive others who had hurt me through my life, but it didn't help me get to a place where I could forgive myself for my own actions. (Odd that I found it possible to accept God's forgiveness but not feel able to forgive myself...) So we both finished that feeling let down and isolated.
One day, when I have the courage to face my demons publicly, I'll write a book about it, because I think there are lots of Christians who need to know that even Christians sin, even Christians get it wrong. Christians can still be drug addicts, or prostitutes, or murderers, or child molesters. Just because we're saved does not mean we're sorted. It means we're on the road to being sorted, but some of us are just taking longer to get there than others. I think there are a lot of people who need to hear that. And I want to extend to them the kind of forgiveness and love and welcome that I doubt I would have received from most of my Christian friends if they knew what I'd done at the time... Anyway, that's off the topic....
Since then, as I've worked through the forgiveness issue, I found myself back working at various schools that required a lot of love on my part. Eventually, suffering from depression, I went for another bout of counselling, which helped fix the depression and made me realise that my job was killing me, and by proxy, my marriage. After being physically and verbally abused by some of the kids I taught, I resigned and moved to my last school, which was much better. Graeme was going through some personal stuff at this time as well, which I don't feel I can share - I'll leave that for him at another time.
One of the reasons my job was killing me and us is that I believed it was the wrong job. I had started to pursue the possibility of becoming an ordained minister in the Church of England. This is something I have wanted since I was a little girl, but till then, I had never dared to share this dream with anyone.
Anyway, everything went very smoothly until the last hurdle (selection conference), at which I was told that I wasn't suitable, for reasons that (even now) I find very hard to accept. I can't begin to explain how that affected me. It's the closest I have ever come to losing my faith, and it was touch and go for a long time. Because I hadn't shared the fact with many people that I was trying for ordination, our grief over my rejection (euphemistically called non-selection) was very private, and therefore all the more intense. As Graeme was struggling with his faith too, it wasn't easy for us to cope as a couple. At the time that we got the news about my non-selection, I fell pregnant with Janel. Trying to cope with that, on top of dealing with this massive rejection and the resulting faith fall-out was tough to say the least.
In the midst of all this, Graeme's family went through a rough time as his great-aunt, uncle and gran all died within about a year of each other. I sat the death-watch with his great-aunt. Saying that now sounds so benign, but it was one of the most harrowing events I've experienced. Graeme found the death of his gran particularly difficult as he couldn't attend her funeral.
But by the grace of God, we got through what was a very difficult period.
Then we fell pregnant with Zoe, and lost her... She's not the first child we've lost. We lost another one several years ago, at 8 weeks. We don't know the sex of that child, but we decided to name 'him' Malcolm. Losing a child... well, there just aren't words to describe how tough that is, so I won't try.
This post comes out of a comment I made about how tough a road we seem to have walked, rather than what an incredible experience our marriage has been. So if I've made it sound like our life has been a living hell for the last 14 years, be reassured that it hasn't. We've had times of joy - like watching Nellie grow up - this just wasn't the place to express them.
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