In the early 1970’s with their marriage in shambles, my parents somehow thought their solution was to uproot our family and move out west. For most of my kindergarten year, we lived in Phoenix during the week and spent the weekends on a ranch.
That experience created the habit of shaking out my boots before I put them on, even to this day. Why? The cabin we stayed in had scorpions, the desert seemed overrun with them. I have never seen a scorpion in Tennessee, but old habits...
I loved the desert and hold fond memories of watching hang-gliders coasting off of Arizona’s iconic mesas, of living like carefree nomads, and of enjoying campfires under the stars. Soaking up all the splendor of the southwest was extremely idyllic, but our time there was as short lived as a mirage.
Eventually my parents divorced after years of continually clashing -- their marriage limped along after Arizona, but no matter where they went, friction followed. Unwilling to admit their own faults or accept the need to change, their troubles remained regardless of their address.
The emotional damage from their decades of hateful bickering was far greater than if they simply had called it quits earlier on, the sting of their feuding left me cynical and jaded as a young adult. I have concluded after much thought that a broken home is better for the kids than an endlessly-breaking-home.
I’m not endorsing carelessly divorcing. People should exhaust every resource and work on their marriages like their life depended on it, but if you think you can fight and argue and treat your spouse spitefully yet you want to stay together “for the children,” think again -- it’s not “for the children” if it’s toxic.
We deceive ourselves often by thinking we can escape our problems by relocating, by pointing fingers, or by separating ourselves from the “problem” person. Self-examination is painful, owning our problems is difficult too, but taking responsibility and actually doing the hard work to become healthier is more mature and rewarding.
Marriages succeed when both people put in the effort. Sadly, giving up seems easier. These days I halfway joke that I only want to officiate funerals and not marry anymore couples. Why? After a funeral the deceased stays buried, unlike many couples who get married.
Even so, I am a firm believer couples can work through any problem no matter how big, if they want to they can redeem any rocky relationship. If it’s true that challenge and adversity develop the quality of our personal character, why would we expect that relationships would be immune to this metamorphology as well? What if rocky relationships, like broken bones, once restored are stronger than they were before?
There are no problems too big for God to mend whenever we can acknowledge we personally have room for growth and we are willing to be transformed. I am completely optimistic on this, if we are willing to shake the scorpions out of our soul and form better habits, we might just live happily ever after -- together.
