If you’d like treat yourself to wonderfully honest, poetic writing from a red-headed Aussie, visit Selwyn’s Sanity. Selwyn is the mother of two boys and is in the middle of a divorce. What more shall I say? I’ll let her writing tell her story.
Last night I watched Titanic for the first time. Apparently I am one of the last 16 people in the history of adult females currently populating the planet who haven’t seen it. Leonardo and Celine are the two biggest causes for my lack of enthusiasm thus far.
It was surprisingly good. So much so that as the credits rolled and I noticed that it had gone for THREE HOURS I didn’t believe it. It certainly didn’t feel like three hours.
But I cried. When the fiance (can’t remember his name) and Jack are standing together trying to convince Rose to get on the lifeboat…. awful.
Hot tears burning down my face. Part of my brain was saying “Why does she get chosen? By TWO different people?” It just slapped me in the chest again that I wasn’t chosen by George.
That he chose something else, someone else, over me. That he chose [insert whatever] over Hatro and Wong, over our family. That even though he has said – right from the beginning – that I did nothing to cause it, that I was an excellent wife and mother and person, in the end he didn’t choose me.
When someone walks away from you, by deliberate choice, and tells you so, your sense of self is assaulted. Depending on how high esteem you hold that person, their statement can shake your self-worth either for a second or shake it tumbling to the ground and into the crevasse that has suddenly appeared beneath your feet.
I’ve been struggling with where self-esteem becomes pride. Knowing I have inherent worth is important, yet is my embarrassment that my husband left me an indication of pride? Is my belief that I WAS a good wife prideful, or simple acknowledgment of my efforts?
I cried last night watching Titanic. I cried in my prayers. I hate crying, but I felt better for it. Well, except for the hot scratchy eyes.
Today the ministering angels came.
Two Elders arrived at my door, with the plan and determination to play with my sons. They played Monopoly with them, and then a convoluted tag/army game. They were here for nearly 3 hours, and the boys were absolutely delighted. The Elders finished with a spiritual thought for us – well, actually it was for the boys. Bear in mind that Hatro is 11, and Wong is 7. They spoke of how Mormon was 10 when he was first told he had a work to do, and started to prepare. That he did incredible things because he had prepared. Those 2 amazing Elders encouraged Hatro and Wong to prepare to serve the Lord, to serve a mission. To prepare mentally (“Do your homework!”), spiritually (“the things you know to do”), physically (“Do something physical each day” and “Eat healthily!”) and prepare by doing things now (“Be an example” and “Obey your mother”) to be able to be a missionary.
The boys promised to do those things.
Last night, in tears, I hoped we weren’t now a service project because we were a “single parent family”. Today I am close to tears, in gratitude that my sons are loved and thought of by wonderful priesthood holders, who want to encourage them to do the best they can and serve the Lord, and actually put that love and concern into action.
What an incredibly wonderful day.