A Strong Case AGAINST Divorce
from 
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JoeUser Forums
A little epiphany I had today branched off from something I've been mindful of for a while: concentrating on NOT being selfish like my mother was.
In search of greener pastures for herself, she divorced my dad in 1983. She was 30. It wasn’t long before she had a revolving door of boyfriends. She was a wild lady. Going out every weekend, inviting boyfriends to the house, sex, and her last boyfriend introduced her to marijuana. She’d been so clean-cut until then.
Then her health caved in on her. At 32, she became permanently debilitated from complications stemming from ulcerative colitis. Her boyfriend of the moment left her when she suffered a stroke. And she died in the hospital.
But…wait! Thanks to modern medicine, the doctors were able to revive her, although she had to be on life support for a while. She re-emerged victoriously, even though she’s now permanently paralyzed over half of her body. She gradually regained most of her mental capacities. I dare say that she’s gained all of her mental capacities although it was really iffy for many years. She’s also comparatively guileless now. For the last several years she's been fairly easy to talk to, albeit within the small scope of her interests.
She's certainly regained a sense of purpose in life. "My purpose,” she’ll tell you, “is to help people. I feel it right here," she says as she thumps her one functioning hand over her heart. Curiously, she emerged from her death experience with a profound love for Jesus Christ, and a desire to do his work however she can. That was a new side to her I'd never seen before her illness. She was baptized in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints a few years back, but soon afterwards she decided that she didn't like those Mormons visiting her all the time. She makes sure nowadays that she has no part in it. That's certainly her prerogative. It doesn't change how glad I am that she's happy.
One of the two times she saw my dad since all of this happened, she confessed to him, “I still love you.” My dad was silent, he did well at hiding the repugnant feeling that her comment gave him, but I knew him well enough to see how he felt. How could he ever imagine loving a paraplegic in a wheelchair, who eats like an animal, drools like a baby, and has a colostomy bag hanging outside her body? This wasn’t the woman he’d married; this wasn’t even the woman who’d divorced him. He’d known a beautiful, slender, lady with spunk.
Now, thinking back to when my mom divorced him, it's hankering to think what might have been if she’d only decided to stick it out instead. I hope that my dad would have developed compassion and a love for her that’s more than skin deep, by caring for her through her infirmities. Seeing this, my brother & I would have grown big hearts by seeing their love and unselfishness in action. And my dad, who committed suicide largely out of loneliness, wouldn't have come to that end after all. He could have had a rich, happy ending…he’d still be here today, living, learning, growing, loving.
I, myself, have often fantasized about leaving my doting husband in search of greener pastures….but you know what? There are no greener pastures for me. The greenest pastures for me can only be found by improving myself rather than trying to find someone else who matches my fantasy. Our marriage will grow richer and stronger as we both strive upwards...together, and in the same direction. I'm not going to run away.
In search of greener pastures for herself, she divorced my dad in 1983. She was 30. It wasn’t long before she had a revolving door of boyfriends. She was a wild lady. Going out every weekend, inviting boyfriends to the house, sex, and her last boyfriend introduced her to marijuana. She’d been so clean-cut until then.
Then her health caved in on her. At 32, she became permanently debilitated from complications stemming from ulcerative colitis. Her boyfriend of the moment left her when she suffered a stroke. And she died in the hospital.
But…wait! Thanks to modern medicine, the doctors were able to revive her, although she had to be on life support for a while. She re-emerged victoriously, even though she’s now permanently paralyzed over half of her body. She gradually regained most of her mental capacities. I dare say that she’s gained all of her mental capacities although it was really iffy for many years. She’s also comparatively guileless now. For the last several years she's been fairly easy to talk to, albeit within the small scope of her interests.
She's certainly regained a sense of purpose in life. "My purpose,” she’ll tell you, “is to help people. I feel it right here," she says as she thumps her one functioning hand over her heart. Curiously, she emerged from her death experience with a profound love for Jesus Christ, and a desire to do his work however she can. That was a new side to her I'd never seen before her illness. She was baptized in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints a few years back, but soon afterwards she decided that she didn't like those Mormons visiting her all the time. She makes sure nowadays that she has no part in it. That's certainly her prerogative. It doesn't change how glad I am that she's happy.
One of the two times she saw my dad since all of this happened, she confessed to him, “I still love you.” My dad was silent, he did well at hiding the repugnant feeling that her comment gave him, but I knew him well enough to see how he felt. How could he ever imagine loving a paraplegic in a wheelchair, who eats like an animal, drools like a baby, and has a colostomy bag hanging outside her body? This wasn’t the woman he’d married; this wasn’t even the woman who’d divorced him. He’d known a beautiful, slender, lady with spunk.
Now, thinking back to when my mom divorced him, it's hankering to think what might have been if she’d only decided to stick it out instead. I hope that my dad would have developed compassion and a love for her that’s more than skin deep, by caring for her through her infirmities. Seeing this, my brother & I would have grown big hearts by seeing their love and unselfishness in action. And my dad, who committed suicide largely out of loneliness, wouldn't have come to that end after all. He could have had a rich, happy ending…he’d still be here today, living, learning, growing, loving.
I, myself, have often fantasized about leaving my doting husband in search of greener pastures….but you know what? There are no greener pastures for me. The greenest pastures for me can only be found by improving myself rather than trying to find someone else who matches my fantasy. Our marriage will grow richer and stronger as we both strive upwards...together, and in the same direction. I'm not going to run away.
