Unless you air your laundry, divorce in the church is as isolating as a child’s temper tantrum during the Sunday morning service.
When my husband of 27 years suddenly and unexpectedly left, it was weeks before my large-church-pastors noticed I was missing from Sunday morning services. And even weeks more before someone called to check in.
Jill English is an avid encourager of humans and lover of words. She writes at Red Tent Living.
I can’t blame them.
No, I didn’t reach out.
I was busy. I was inhaling and exhaling, managing shame, scrounging for hope, paying bills, and depositing what little emotional reserves I had to care for my devastated daughters, reeling family members, and befuddled friends.
Life was too busy facing the disappointment of opening my eyes in the morning, realizing that God hadn’t granted my nightly plea to take me in my sleep because I didn’t know how to live this way.
There were so many things I didn’t know about how to go through an unexpected divorce. There is no YouTube video, no manual, no to-do list for how to do it well. Yet, the one thing I did learn is that you won’t get a casserole from church when you’re in the middle of burying a marriage.
I realized this after the fact. A year after my husband left and before the divorce was final, my dear church friend lost her husband to a sudden heart attack.
Read the rest of Jill’s story here.
As people of faith, we are very good at meeting people in times of death and illness. There are no judgments around these things, and we do not need discernment about who was in the wrong. But what if there were no casserole rules? What if we loved those in need with no judgement? What do you think? Please leave a comment and share your experience in the section below. Thank you.
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