Life Happened
Yesterday, a girl who used to be a part of the Juvenile Enrichment through Mentoring Project (a program I worked for in 2003-2004 as an AmeriCorps VISTA) found me on campus. She poked her head into my book, J.M. Barrie & The Lost Boys: The Love Story that Gave Birth to Peter Pan by Andrew Birkin, and asked if I remembered her. When I did not, she told me her name, reminded me of her mentor, and told me she was off of drugs, had a toddler, and was getting her computer science degree. She asked me about William Morehead, my ex husband. I told her we were no longer married. She asked what happened, and I told her, "Life!"
Life happened- or should I say death. The death of a marriage is a strange thing. It comes in so many ways. A loss of desire to touch and be touched, not wanting to spend any time together, insults, silences, blaming the other person for wrong doing and the resulting deterioration of the once strong bond, looking for another to fill the lonely spot left by spouse (this could be work, a person, friend, lover, pet, shopping, alcohol, anything really). And then the day comes when one wakes up and realizes she's not really married, just co-habiting with an impostor who is husband in title only, yet nothing else bears the resemblance of husband in or about him. A choice is presented, to live with the charade, continue to play act at being happy together, being the perfect couple, or to leave and start over again- to perhaps find someone who will be a husband in more than just name, else to live single and free from abuse. The latter choice, this is what I called Life. Being free is Life to me.
(Please do not misunderstand, dear reader. Marriage, the best marriage, is hard work. It is about compromise and give and take and love and honor, and so many other things. Yet if only one is willing to work at it, if it becomes a slave and master relationship, if physical, financial, emotional, and spiritual abuse are at play, I do not think it can be called marriage any longer. Then it becomes legal slavery. I do not believe in marriage that is thus defined. Call me a hypocrite if you must, but I cannot endorse anything that robs anyone of their God created dignity as an image bearer of the Almighty. I truly believe that we are created equal, and thus, are to be treated with dignity and honor. If this is an impossibility, then leaving, leaving does not an adulteress of one make.)
So Life happened. I decided I wanted to live again, and I left. And the tragedy is I could not take my Peter Pan with me because he would not grow up. I have an uncanny knack for falling in love with Lost Boys and Girls as well as Peter Pans. Yet deep in my heart, I know I cannot force them into the world of adulthood. I can love then and guide them gently there, but I cannot force them to come home with me, to find the place where they are loved best of all and remain. I cannot fix what is broken in Peter Pan. But I can love him anyway. So I give myself to a generation that has ceased to grow up in hopes that maybe love can bring a lost child home, and maybe Peter Pan will realize that he too needs a family's love, regardless of how imperfect that family may be.
As for me, I'm not looking to marry another Peter Pan. I want a man, not a boy any longer. Yet, I do wish to love people regardless of where they are at. I am looking for a man who can be a father to a fatherless generation. After all, children grow best with two parents, not just one. I know that I resemble Wendy of the story book. But I am not a little girl any more. I am grown. I cannot fly off to Never Land any longer. Yet I will always love the little ones who find themselves there, and will always welcome them into my life, no matter how upsetting this may be to others of my acquaintance. After all, that's how Lost Boys and Girls become found.
Life happened- or should I say death. The death of a marriage is a strange thing. It comes in so many ways. A loss of desire to touch and be touched, not wanting to spend any time together, insults, silences, blaming the other person for wrong doing and the resulting deterioration of the once strong bond, looking for another to fill the lonely spot left by spouse (this could be work, a person, friend, lover, pet, shopping, alcohol, anything really). And then the day comes when one wakes up and realizes she's not really married, just co-habiting with an impostor who is husband in title only, yet nothing else bears the resemblance of husband in or about him. A choice is presented, to live with the charade, continue to play act at being happy together, being the perfect couple, or to leave and start over again- to perhaps find someone who will be a husband in more than just name, else to live single and free from abuse. The latter choice, this is what I called Life. Being free is Life to me.
(Please do not misunderstand, dear reader. Marriage, the best marriage, is hard work. It is about compromise and give and take and love and honor, and so many other things. Yet if only one is willing to work at it, if it becomes a slave and master relationship, if physical, financial, emotional, and spiritual abuse are at play, I do not think it can be called marriage any longer. Then it becomes legal slavery. I do not believe in marriage that is thus defined. Call me a hypocrite if you must, but I cannot endorse anything that robs anyone of their God created dignity as an image bearer of the Almighty. I truly believe that we are created equal, and thus, are to be treated with dignity and honor. If this is an impossibility, then leaving, leaving does not an adulteress of one make.)
So Life happened. I decided I wanted to live again, and I left. And the tragedy is I could not take my Peter Pan with me because he would not grow up. I have an uncanny knack for falling in love with Lost Boys and Girls as well as Peter Pans. Yet deep in my heart, I know I cannot force them into the world of adulthood. I can love then and guide them gently there, but I cannot force them to come home with me, to find the place where they are loved best of all and remain. I cannot fix what is broken in Peter Pan. But I can love him anyway. So I give myself to a generation that has ceased to grow up in hopes that maybe love can bring a lost child home, and maybe Peter Pan will realize that he too needs a family's love, regardless of how imperfect that family may be.
As for me, I'm not looking to marry another Peter Pan. I want a man, not a boy any longer. Yet, I do wish to love people regardless of where they are at. I am looking for a man who can be a father to a fatherless generation. After all, children grow best with two parents, not just one. I know that I resemble Wendy of the story book. But I am not a little girl any more. I am grown. I cannot fly off to Never Land any longer. Yet I will always love the little ones who find themselves there, and will always welcome them into my life, no matter how upsetting this may be to others of my acquaintance. After all, that's how Lost Boys and Girls become found.
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