Lovely in the Dark

A broken home.

We all have described divorce this way. Yes. Even me.

Maybe we thought since the marriage was unable to thrive, therefore, the family that was made is damaged and broken. Maybe we think we know how the divorce came about so we assume we know how the family unit looks. Broken. Cracked. Never to be fixed or whole. Maybe there was no effort to saving the marriage, so there is no effort to saving the family.

Maybe we need to stop calling it a “broken” home.

Because my sons are not growing up in a home that is broken.

No.

They live in a house that has been made into a home.

Filled with love.

Laughter.

Joy.

Play.

Security.

Prayer.

Brotherhood.

Apologies.

Forgiveness.

Stability.

Protection.

Tears.

Hardships.

Lazy Saturday mornings.

Breakfast for supper.

Friends.

Nana, Papa, aunts and uncles, cousins galore, and a Grammy and a Grandpa.

Birthday parties.

Time outs.

Chores.

Summer water fights.

Snuggles.

And more love.

The only difference.

They have two homes.

Where they are loved and treasured.

Two homes that have parents who choose them over and over again.

Two homes that are intentional on raising boys to become men.

Two parents who are dedicated in raising their children.

Just not together as a married couple.

We struggle in communicating, deciding what is the best for our sons, agreeing on discipline and screen time. No different than other parents who are raising children. We question if what we do is enough for them and if they should be involved in sports and activities.

We are teaching them the value of family. With the people who share a last name and with the friends you choose as family. We are teaching them that at the end of this life, it doesn’t matter about money or possessions but the people you hold on too. We are teaching them that families can look different but still feel the same. Loved. Cherished. Supported. Encouraged. Appreciated.

My family is not lacking or less because it looks different.

Different does not equal bad.

Different does not equal broken.

The challenges may be greater. More frequent. More intense. The compromise may need more thought and practice. The dynamics may shift often. Causing us to lose our balance. The lingering hurt and ongoing healing may be pushed aside for the better of the kids. Sometimes not. The decisions may be made for the best our family. Leaving others wondering why we do it this way. The effort is the same. We are trying. To work through our past to give our children a future. To work at our present to give our children loving and great homes.

My family of three.

His family of five.

Different than yours.

Loved like yours.

Treasured like yours.

Fought for like yours.

But not broken.