Last night I got a flurry of emails from him. Conveniently, he had failed to address any of my concerns-insurance for the children, potty training, child care for the coming school year...you know the real meat and potatoes of parenting. I guess he's more a dessert guy anyway. He wanted to, by way of asking me to please obey they court order and inform him of Dr.s appointments (which we haven't had any of thanks to father of the year discontinuing coverage, failing to inform me, and continuing failing to provide a certificate of coverage so I can get an exception to policy and put them on my insurance in the middle of the year) school events (which he was at yesterday because I had the 9 year old call him and invite him) and other major life events in a timely manner, suggest that I was in violation of the orders governing our joint legal custody of the children. It just wasn't acceptable to him that he "wasn't afforded equal access to appointments and information regarding the children." The ludicrous nature of the statements should have been laughable. But I wasn't laughing.
In another email, this control addict wanted me to provide him with a moment by moment itinerary and travel route for my upcoming road trip with the children. It was a long winded cleverly passive aggressive attempt to insert himself into something that was making him feel left out :( poor baby. The inappropriately juvenile spirit in which the email was written should have made me feel sorry for the author. But I did not feel sorry for him.
What I did feel was white hot anger creeping up my shoulders and burning through my carotid, lighting my ears on fire and melting my brain into a non-functioning mess. I will never be free of this guy. He will always be bothering me. He talks about coparenting and getting along for the sake of the kids, all the while talking trash about me to them, causing confusion and embarrassment to them and quibbling over every little decision made, though they make perfect sense and he would indeed agree if he was looking from the outside in as a sane observer.
The anger burned through me and disintegrated all the joy and gratefulness I had been learning to have through this slow, arduous, thankless process. All the lessons of self control and emotional discipline lay in an ash heap left behind by the angry fire; ashes that I promptly picked up, showered myself with and rolled around in til I was REALLY FEELING my fully rightly deserved self-pity. As the offspring of this ill-fated union entered the witching hour of late evening and had a sudden second (or twentieth?) wind of energy for the day, I felt like it was just TOO hard to take care of these kids and respond to their dad and think about what this genius was laying the foundation for with these emails and how was I going to combat it and HOW was I going to afford combating this. So I thought about it, incessantly, and didn't do anything about it, and got annoyed at the kids for being kids, especially seeing as they were his kids.
There I was, figuratively, on the ground, kicking my legs like a two year old. I'll never be divorced. I'll always have him to deal with even if this divorce gets finalized. I don't believe God gives a care enough about my situation to do anything about it. And even if He did, humans don't always cooperate.
One of my sisters suggested that maybe this could be like the story of Ruth. Ruth? I thought I would check it out. THIS BOOK HAS NOTHING to do with my life story. These ladies' husbands are DEAD.
This book is more for Abby, who actually has a dead husband and could relate. Not for me. I kept reading though. I read the whole book-it is four short chapters. I got nothing. I was soooooooooooo pissed.
I'm unaware of how or when the change in my mind happened. But I just know sometime between last night and this morning I knew what the book of Ruth had to do with me. Ruth had to go to the fields every day and glean. It was hard work in the hot son and she had to do it every day. Here's the message, Jessica, get off your butt, put one foot in front of the other and glean in the fields. Whatever work is put in front of you-do that. Whatever task is required of you, focus on that. Regardless of what you are feeling, do what you must do.
The idea began to crystallize in my mind as my two year old went #2 all by himself this morning in the potty. A week ago it FELT like he would never be potty trained. I chased him to the potty 100 times the first as he yelled "i have to pee, i have to pee" and didn't pee. I cleaned his butt crack and several pairs of undies when he would claim to have to go poop, run to the potty, sit there, say "i can't do it" and 30 seconds later be in a corner proving that indeed he COULD. It felt like an endlessly futile exercise. I felt like giving up. Then the next day brought more pee on the ground and crap in the laundry. But the third day he peed in the potty and in days 6, 7 and 8 has not had a urine accident. And this morning after two days of holding it, the potty training was complete. How silly it was for me to buy into the feelings of hopelessness and uselessness. I had potty trained three boys before this and not a one of them didn't come out the other side a fully functioning toilet using member of society.
I will be divorced in a year or two or however long this thing drags out. And with each interaction with the person I once saw fit to marry, I am a little less perturbed and the emotional fallout lasts a slightly shorter time. If only my "soul amnesia" as Ann author of One Thousand Gifts puts it wouldn't kick in so hard next time.
Sometimes our feelings are valid and aligned with the truth. But more often than not, they are in collusion with a lie that is being whispered in our ear, blinding us to the truth of the love of God. And instead of having an emotionally induced temper tantrum, maybe we need to do the work that is required of us. Go to the fields and glean. Naomi will whip up a plan, Boaz will provide and redeem. I just need to be Ruth. Write a simple email in response to the (one day) ex, state the truth, press send. Get up and take my son to the potty 100 times because one of those times is gonna produce results. And NO emotional romance novel addict, this doesn't necessarily mean that you will get a literal Boaz (rich, handsome guy that falls in love with you at first sight and vice versa despite your insane baggage). Nope, the Boaz in your story is the great I AM. I am who is always by your side, sustaining you. It is God who whispers in your ear "Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge" Your Boaz provides you, not necessarily with grain, but, with whatever it is YOU need for today. He spreads out the corner of His garment to cover you in His peace and righteousness, to comfort you with His warmth and protect you from ridicule and slander. Your Boaz
is the one who, as the Hebrew meaning of the name implies, is your strength. Go work in His fields. Watch and wait and work.
