Joys of Jet Lag

What a week! In the last seven days, I have flown literally halfway around the world, moved from Michigan to Ohio, and celebrated (okay, maybe acknowledged) a milestone birthday. I'm tired.

In 1999, I took a ten day tour of Israel. I adjusted fine to the eight hour time change, but upon my return I crashed hard for about a day and a half. I had a few more days of weird waking hours, but then I was back to normal.

Maybe it's a combination of my head injury along with all the other things, but I'm really having a doozy of a time with jet lag. I got home around 2am last Friday. It took me until about 4am to fall asleep and I slept til 10am. The next night I didn't fall asleep til 7am and slept til 2pm. The next couple days were about moving to Ohio so I slept whenever I could, which wasn't much. Since being in my new diggs, I've vacillated between absolutely no sleep and sleeping between 14-18 hours. I'm trying sleeping pills to sleep and wake up calls to get up, but I feel like I have a lead weight on my head and a tornado on my brain.

I have high hopes for posting about my trip, but first I need to wake up!

btw...2007 is going to be my international year. In March, I'm off to The Netherlands to meet my boyfriend's family. We'll also be visiting Germany, Belgium, Luxembourg and France.

Snapshots

Yesterday, my boyfriend's parents celebrated their 37th anniversary. It saddens me that so many couples have lost the opportunity to celebrate double digit anniversaries due to divorce. I was talking to my mom yesterday as she opened her Christmas gifts from me. One the books I gave her was about retirement. She was skimming through it and reading different headings to me. One had to do with adjusting to all the time with your spouse. My mom made a comment to the affect of, "Where's the chapter on finding a spouse?"

My stepdad and step-step mom celebrate their 15th anniversary today. The parents of another friend celebrate their 35th anniversary next month. As I get older, I see more and more of a disparity in the lives of my friends' divorced v. married parents. Our parents are baby boomers and many, if not most, are now retired. Those who are married seem to be enjoying the time to reflect and enjoy their years of partnership. Those who are divorced seem more reflective as they wonder if they should have taken different roads. Retirement is more difficult when you've had to financially have to start over a time or two. And emotionally, facing the twilight years can be daunting when you approach them alone.

When my younger sister married, she said something to me that has stuck with me. In fact, it made it into my book. We were talking about the idea of marriage snapshots, somewhat tangible concrete pictures of what we want our life to look like in the future, so we can work towards them, even when--especially when--we are creating that which we haven't experienced. I gave the example of a hallway in a friend's parents' home. The hallway was lined with pictures, first of grandparents and ancestors, then with the couple's wedding picture, then with baby pictures, annual family portraits--some formal, some not, and other visual representation of the family history. I love the continuity that hallway conveys, and I told her I want to have a similar hallway or stairway when I marry. I asked if she had any marriage snapshots, and she said, "I want to celebrate my 50th anniversary." I love that! Approaching marriage in the long-term view like that will help my sister and her husband overcome the inevitable struggles they'll face together.

I was thinking of friend recently who has been going through a rough patch with her husband. With all the milestone anniversaries around me, along with a few weddings, I thought it would be fun idea for a newlywed couple to get frames for several upcoming anniversaries (5th, 10th, 25th, etc.) In the frame, they could write the date they will celebrate those milestones. They could also talk together about what they think life might look like for them at that point in their marriage. As they celebrate each milestone, they could replace the date with a photo, and read their predictions. They could make a note of what their life is really like at that point, and in doing so, create a bit of history for the next generation.

I'd love to hear about marriage snapshots you might have.

p.s. Happy 37th, Jan & Kitty!

The Red Plate Blessing

Someday, when my brain is working again, and I can write again, I'd like to write about how Generations X and Y are embracing ritual and tradition as they raise their families. I have a long list of ideas I hope to incorporate with my own family.

In a few short weeks--after I return from China--I will be moving in with an amazing family in Ohio. It'll be an adjustment going from a nice-sized home of my own to a room in the home of a family of five. I've been blessed to spend several weeks with this family over the past few months, and though I'm sure there will be adjustments for all of us, I am really looking forward to living with a family, with all the joy and chaos that comes with it.

This family is part of the community to which God has led me in Canton, Ohio. One of the things I most appreciate about this group is their own sense of ritual and tradition. Today, this community is having a blessing ceremony for my host family's oldest child. It's a time of affirming celebrating the person being blessed. This is my blessing for T.

The Red Plate Blessing
for T., on the occasion of his tenth birthday

For most of my adult life, I’ve observed the character and traditions of those I admired and looked to as models. Older women to demonstrate the woman I want to be, couples whose marriages grow stronger even through the seasons of struggle, families who create rituals and traditions to commemorate a collective history of celebrating everyday life.

A few years ago, I heard of the Red Plate tradition. Typically, it’s a red plate with the white words, “You are special today.” The plate is used to celebrate birthdays, awards, good grades, championships, acts of kindness, accomplishments and any event worth noting. At the end of the meal, the act is written on the back of the plate as a way of memorializing it. Other Red Plate rituals include the recipient choosing the evening meal and leading the family prayer.

T., because we are brother and sister in the family of God, I wanted to do something unique to celebrate our Father in this tradition, so I used the words, “You are blessed today.”

And T., as you turn ten years old, you are blessed, and very much loved. I am thrilled to come to live with you and your family. I’m looking forward to watching you grow into a godly young man. I can already see how you are choosing to live your life in a way that makes God smile. When I wasn’t feeling well after the car accident, you volunteered to help me by getting my things from downstairs, bringing me water, taking my plates after meals, and asking me what else you could do to help me or make me more comfortable. I saw Jesus in you. And I know He was smiling.

My blessing for you as you turn ten is to give you a Red Plate and commission you to start this tradition with your family, with your friends, and with us, your church community. Actively look for reasons to celebrate the good around you. As a big brother, recognize when A. or K. are good or helpful. As a son, be kind to your parents, and let them know what you appreciate and love about them. With your friends, be the first to cheer, first to apologize, and first to love. With your church family, help us discover the things we have in common, seek to learn what you can learn from us, and show us what we can learn from you. You are loved. You are special. You are blessed.

Much love,
Jen

I'd love to hear from others what traditions and rituals you've incorporated to celebrate life.

House STILL For Sale

I'm coming up on the third anniversary of my first head injury. I've been pretty amazed by the way God has provided for my needs during this time. I continue to learn and accept the way this injury has changed my life, and while I'm sad by many of the changes, I can also embrace the blessings.

One of the blessings for which I'm most thankful is the new family of friends He has given me in Canton, Ohio. When I moved to Grand Rapids seven years ago, I knew no one. In short time, I grew to love this area and the many friends that made this place home. In the past several months as I've felt God pulling up the tent pegs on my life here, I have become more aware of how He has been preparing for my life there.

Since August, I've been spending at least a week a month in Canton with my new friends, developing not only a picture of my new life, but solidifying the new me. Everyone in Canton has met me post-injury and their love has helped me learn to love the post-injury me. This past trip, I had the opportunity to stay with a couple's three children while they were out of town for the weekend. It was great to be in a position to serve others. Though there's still so much I love about GR, I'm increasingly feeling that my life is on hold here in GR, and in play when I'm in Canton. I'm excited to get started on my new life in Canton...spiritually, emotionally, professionally (in whatever shape that might take), and especially financially.

The greatest financial pressure comes comes my home. I've come to accept that, like most who have sustained MTBIs, I can't do the same work I did before. And quite likely, that I won't be able to earn or sustain the same standard of living I've been blessed to enjoy before the head injury. I've made my peace with it and already I'm started to come up with ideas of new jobs I'd like to try. But first, I need to move. So far I've been able to pay my mortgage, COBRA and other utilities with savings, my advance, a few gifts and downsizing my stuff. Though my budget is lean, my income is leaner. With the snow swirling outside as I type this, my constant prayer is that the house will sell quickly so I can move before the Michigan winter really hits. I just dropped the price, and I posted this message today so that those who live in GR--and maybe those who wish they did!-- could spread the word to those they know.

My townhouse is in Bailey's Grove, a wonderful neighborhood with a community center, pool, and walking paths. My neighbors are amazing and many have become friends. All of the townhouses in our development have been completed so the only options are previously owned homes. What distinguishes mine from the others is brand new carpeting and padding, fresh paint, a furnace humidifier (our homes get a bit dry in the winter), contemporary ceiling fans in each bedroom, a big, clean basement ready to be finished, and now, a new low price.

Learn more about it here. Even better, take a peek inside here.

Regardless of where you live, I'd appreciate you joining me in prayer that God would quickly unite my home with its new owners.

Five Years Later

I woke up this morning and turned on the TV. MSNBC was airing their original broadcast from five years ago today. For most of the morning, I was glued to my TV, remembering all the emotion and uncertainty of that day.

Five years ago, I worked at Family Christian Stores. A music rep was presenting new titles to us that morning. We had just settled in, enjoyed Panera bagels and were about to get started when someone poked their head into the conference room to tell us a plane crashed into the World Trade Center. I remember some discussion about what kind of plane it might be--probably a Piper Cub or some other small plane. We went back to our business.

A few minutes later, someone else popped in. Just after that, an announcement was made over the loudspeaker--none of us even knew our building had one!--to take a moment to pray for those involved. We then went to the exercise room, joining about 30 others who were already watching the live news on the big screen TV. We were just getting a grip on what was happening when we saw the second plane crash into the other tower.

I remember a conversation with another single friend in the days after 9/11. He told me that the terrorist attack made him rethink his singleness. I think a lot of single thought that day about who they would call if they were in that situation. For many of my friends, 9/11 intensified our longing to belong to someone, to have an assumed emergency contact. After 9/11, I became more willing to take risks in my relationships, to risk loving and being loved.

Today, after learning that proceeds from 9/11 movies are being used to help raise funds for memorials, I decided to catch a matinee of World Trade Center. After a morning of mourning, I was encouraged by this story with a happy ending. Nicolas Cage plays John McLoughlin, one of two Port Authority officers rescued from the rubble. The movie does an engaging job of showing how John reflected on his life, and especially marriage. I imagine 9/11 gave a lot of couples a renewed appreciation for the ones they committed to love for life, at least I hope so.

The theatre was nearly empty. There were only five of us there. One elderly couple. One middle-aged couple. And me. At the end, I swear my nostrils were filled with smoke and debris. With all the change and uncertainty in my life these days, this day, I'm grateful for life.

First Poem

In honor of my friend, Kevin, who recently shared his first poem with me. This is mine:

Ode to a Mosquito
by Jenny Abbas, age 10

In the land of ten thousand lakes
People suffer from bug bite aches

The reason is, of course, the mosquito
who flies through the air like a torpedo

lands on some innocent skin
and sticks his little pain-causing needle in

And that is why
in the land of ten thousand lakes
people suffer from bed bug aches

My Prayer

One the major ways I've been spending my days the last few months is getting my house ready to sell. In addition to the regular things, like cleaning, fixing and painting, I've also been (finally!) taking time to tackle paperwork and electronic files. I signed my book contract a few weeks after I moved in, and sustained my head injury shortly before my book released. So in the five years I've been here, much too much has collected, mostly in my office.

My latest endeavor has been cleaning out my desktop. A friend was helping me with the task, and just when I thought we were about done, he asked if I had any floppy disks or ZIP disks that needed to be converted to CD-ROM. Thus the latest trip down memory lane as I've discovered very early versions of my book, years-old journal entries, college papers, and even some poetry.

The poem below is still the cry of my heart:

My Prayer

As I make my way through this life
Sometimes
I find myself thinking I'm doing it on my own
that I can do it alone.
Thank you Jesus
for being my constant companion
reaching out
forgiving
uplifting
gently convicting
and encouraging me
I love being close to you.
You are truly my best friend.
When I think to the future
and all I desire to be,
I know you'll be right there with me.
When I struggle between the conflicting voices
of Your word and Your world
I thank you for giving me strength
to pursue righteousness.
Continue to mold me
shape me
transform me
to be the one You have called me to be.
Help me to be a transparent light
that others will see You through me.
Thank you for giving me a future
and a hope of complete redemption.
Use me to reach those who need You.
Make me a willing servant.
I want to be other-focused, not self-centered
I want my relationships to reflect Your love
I want others to desire what I have found
joy
forgiveness
hope
and love.
I want to be so filled with who You are
that it changes who I am.
I want to be so filled with what You did
that it changes what I do.
I can't wait to be made perfect
and to be near You forever.
Help me to be patient and devoted
to my current mission.
Thank you for the assurance
of knowing
You care
You bless
You heal
You love.
When I fret about my future
When I get impatient to fulfill my desires
Ground me
remind me
show me
Your love is all I need.
This is my prayer.

Jen Abbas
March 30, 1996

Holy Hospitality

I've been back from Ohio about a week now. The last night I was there, I again visited the Tuesday night group. The agenda for that night was a presentation of a new "church-within-a-church" plant. The core elements of the new church include an emphasis on hospitality, service, community and creativity. For those of you who have followed my blog for awhile, you'll understand my enthusiasm for this new endeavor. I didn't have any intentions of moving to Ohio when I visited, but last Tuesday, I sensed God finally direct my next steps.

I've spent some time this past week talking to friends, praying and seeking counsel. There are a million logistical things to work out--namely, selling my house and figuring out where to live. I've been in GR for seven years and it was been my home, but as one friend said, "God has been pulling the tent pegs for you for months. I have a peace about releasing you to Canton."

Ironically, before the message at church this weekend, there was a commissioning for several church members embarking on a new church plant. Again, the word release was used as we blessed those involved in the new church.

I met a girl in Canton who is buying a home and looking for housemates. I've lived on my own for 12 of the last 15 years. I know this isn't good for me. I yearn to share my life with others. I'm excited about the possibilities. Post-head injury, I'm a new person with new priorities. I need relationships more than I did. Or maybe, I just realize my need more now without that pesky self-reliance and independence in the way. My health has taken a dip again. I haven't been able to work for two months now. It's scary, but I sense God's presence more closely now that I have in months. I'm seeing my neurologist next week. This last headache has lasted about a month now, at times so painful I can't see. All the more reason to have others around me. On good days, I've been having friends over--to talk, or more often, to play Catan. I want to cultivate more of a heart of hospitality. I haven't had many dinner parties since my head injury. I want to start again. When I told my mom about my hope to buy a big, cheap house in Canton at some point, she reminded me that one of the happiest times in my life was when I shared a modest house with three other women. We had game nights, movie nights, theme parties, football parties, late night talks and many, many meals. I miss those days. I look forward to sharing them again with my new friends.

At church on Saturday, our pastor started a new series, Holy Hospitality. I think maybe God is lighting the road ahead.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

I'm writing this post from the home of some friends in Ohio. This past Tuesday morning was the day I had been dreading for over a year. My best friends, the family down the street, left for their new home on the other side of the world. The thought of driving back to our neighborhood after seeing them off at the airport was more than I could take, so I was very grateful for the opportunity to head out of town for a few days.

A few weeks ago, the message at my church was about how sometimes, when we pursue God's will, things get worse. I've often said that I'm not afraid to do the hard thing, so long as I know it's the right thing. The challenge of this particular season of my life is not simply that change is here, whether I want it or not, but I don't know what I'm to do next. With the challenges of my health, I've finally accepted the reality that I am unable to do the work I've done for the last ten years. However, I don't yet know what I can do well. I know I can no longer afford to live in the home I love, but I don't yet know where I will live next. I know that it is not in my best interest--physically, emotionally or spiritually--to live alone, but I don't know yet with whom I will live. I feel as though the road I have been traveling has come to an end. There's no fork, no narrower path. Just emptiness ahead. And I wonder if somewhere along the way I got lost, or if this is the next step of learning to trust God. I'm seeking that pillar of fire or clouds to lead me. Someone once said that when you are unsure of your direction, to go back to the last place you felt confident of your route. For me, that place is here in Ohio.

The last few days have been restful and have brought so much peace to my heart, even in the midst of the unknown. Being away from home is giving me clarity to see what I'm missing and to define what I really need. I'm enjoying the conversations I'm having as I reconnect and deepen relationships with friends here. I'm grateful for this oasis in Ohio.

Making Peace with the Unknown

There's a saying, "The more I know, the more I know I don't know." In this season of transition, there's very little I take for granted. I'm no longer driven to make my mark on the world, but I am interested in making a mark in my world. My approach to time has changed, too. I'm much more of a day-by-day girl, now. One benefit of this approach time is being able to appreciate the process of life rather than only the outcomes. This weekend is a good example.

On Saturday I had a first date with a guy very different than my typical type. We've been getting to know each other for a few weeks now and the best word I can use to describe my interest is "intrigued." I don't know enough to know whether we should pursue things, but I don't know enough to say we definitely shouldn't either. In the past, I would have avoided the unknown by ruling him out. But I'm trying to do things differently. So we met and ended up having a really good time.

One of things that most attracted me to him is that it's clear from his relational history that he is able to love well. By well, I mean unconditionally. He's weathered some things I can't fathom, and has come through with a remarkably positive view of love and marriage. Those of you who know me and my own relational history understand that this is a rather irresistible trait. As we talked throughout the day, his outlook challenged me to be more free (less fearful) about the process of loving and be loved.

I'm reminded that everyone we meet has the power to influence us for better or for worse. As for my Saturday date, I'm better for having met him. I hope he feels the same way.

A Good Day

A variety of people, in a variety of ways, have asked me a variation of the same question, "What are you going to do with your life now that...?" I don't think anyone is more surprised than I am that I don't have a tidy answer. I'm just open. My constant prayer for the last several months has been for God to show me where and how He can use me, as I am, post-injury.

I've always been a security girl. Give me a steady paycheck and clearly outlined expectations and I'm good to go. It fits real well with the independent streak I've been nurturing for the last 30 years.

That streak has ended.

There's a term thrown around a lot in post-modern circles, deconstruction. In the Jen dictionary, it's the idea that you have to completely breaking something down, set aside all assumptions to get to a new starting point, after which, presumably, you then build it back up with a new/better/more solid foundation. I've had to deconstruct much of what I've believed about love, relationships and marriage. In this current season of life, I'm deconstructing my faith in some ways

I was talked to a friend recently about my relationship with God. I said I feel like I'm in a bad marriage with Him right now. Neither of us are going to divorce and I know that the only thing worse than where I am is being where I am without Him. So it's rough...for now. We aren't communicating well. We aren't (I'm not) hearing well. But it's a valley, not the end of the relationship. It's been miserable, but I think maybe I've needed the misery. (I hate that I've needed the misery). I needed to get good and mad so that I could be good and mad at God. I've needed to come to this place of being utterly unable to put on a good front. I needed to get messy and raw and broken to see that even when I'm messy and raw and broken, I'm still of value to Him. I can lose my job, my house, my bank account, my friends, my boyfriend, my hope...and still be loved and worthy of love. I've known that truth with my head, but I think maybe I needed to experience the truth of it with my heart to let it sink in.

I'm optimistic today that I've started re-constructing. Last night I had two separate conversations with out-of-state friends who shared with me how God has used to post-injury me to bring healing to others. I so needed that affirmation. I still don't have a good answer to the question, but I'm seeing the return of hope that there is an answer.

A Tale of Two Goodbyes

Anticipatory Grief is a term used in psychology to explain the process of bereavement that begins before the actual loss has occurred. For example, when a loved one has a terminal illness, family and friends tend to begin feeling the loss before the loved one actually passes. The past few months have included a lot of loss and to be honest, I've rather resigned myself to the fact that it's just going to be a rough patch for now.

A while back I wrote in my journal that I could handle anything so long as I knew I could redeem in through writing at some point. And while I'm sure that I still believe that, right now, I just want the pain of parting to be over.

The losses I'm grieving are all intertwined, though somewhat independent. I'm not sure if that makes it easier or more difficult. At this point, I can't really analyze it, I'm just living it, and that's okay for now. I've been listening to the audio book of When God Doesn't Answer Your Prayer by Jerry Sittser. What I've appreciated about the book so much so far is the freedom I've found in being really, brutally honest with God about how I'm feeling. I didn't realize how much I've held back from being authentic. I suppose that if, as a child, you learn to put your best face on for your parents for no other reason than you want to be okay, that you learn to approach your heavenly Father in the same way. I don't want to seem ungrateful for all the things He has given me, so I'm hesitant to tell Him how it hurts me to be denied the things I really desire. But, Jerry tells me, isn't it better to come straight to God with our unfiltered feelings and let Him absorb them? David's Psalms often start out with him railing against God and then, ultimately, end up with him making peace not only with God, but also with his situation.

David's Psalms give me hope that this anger is only a dot, not my destination.

A few months back, I was experiencing probably the sweetest time in my life. It seemed that everything I had hoped for was finally coming together at just the right time. Ever since my head injury, my personality has become less accomplishment-oriented, and much more relationship-oriented. Relationships have always been a challenge for me, but the two types of relationships I most yearned to experience were, for the first time in my life, fulfilled at the same time.

The first relationship was family. A few years back, I was asked to move into a smaller office to accommodate a new co-worker. When he learned I had to move, he invited me to have dinner with his family to make up for it. This family of four is now a family of six, with the youngest daughter being my god-daughter. In addition to adopting two little girls, this couple adopted me into their family in our own formal way. For the last several years, I never had to think about where I would spend Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, my birthday, or any other occasion that historically has triggered a sense of loss. When I visit my biological family, it's "Mom's house" or "Dad's house." I don't belong there. I have a key to this family's home and I know I belong there. This family has done more to heal my heart than anything else I've experienced as an adult. They have shown me unconditional love and modeled family in a way that has utterly transformed me. I've been able to watch a husband and wife run a full gamut of emotions where leaving is not even a thought. I've watched patient parenting in action and loved on four of the best behaved kids on the planet. I never even really wanted kids until these kids wiggled their way into my heart. Now I long for a legacy of my own. In this family, I finally have a vivid picture of what I want to create for myself.

And they're moving. Not just out of the neighborhood. Not out of town or even out of state. They are moving to the other side of the world and the thought of it makes my heart hurt so much I can't breathe.

I have no doubt that they're doing what they need to do. Though they don't move until August 1, they will be gone from the neighborhood most of July, starting on Sunday. Less than 48 hours away.

I've known this day was coming for more than a year. I do feel a sense of progress in that, when I learned this news, I didn't pull away as I would have so often in the past. I made the most of the remaining time we had together. At the same time, not a day has gone by when I haven't prayed that God would bring someone into my life so that I can start creating my own family. The time has come, I believe, when I shouldn't have to settle for being the add-on to my friend's growing families.

This winter, I thought I found him. I've always been so cautious, so full of fear and anxiety when it comes to dating. I was wary of those who got emotional too quickly. After all, you've gotta be wise about these things and I had just the checklist to help you along. But then it happened to me. I met someone and he was everything I wanted and more than I could have thought up myself. And amazingly, he wanted me too. For once, I was pursued, hard, by a good guy...a great guy. No red flags anywhere, just green all around. I met his friends. He met mine. We all got along. The first time I walked into his house, I felt like I was home. (The first time I met him, I felt at home). I could see our life together and I loved what I saw. It wasn't just exactly what I had been hoping and praying for, it was better. We both felt so confident that we started making plans, seeking counsel, planning our budget, dreaming our future. Finally, talking about marriage with someone filled me with joy, not fear. The timing seemed so perfect, I was losing my family, but gaining MY family. It balanced out. It made sense. It was finally my time!

I had been struggling at work. I had known for some time that though I was fully recovered from my head injury, I was not fully healed, and I was not the same. I couldn't do the job the way it deserved to be done. I could give 20 good hours, but if I tried to give 40, the rest of my life suffered...and it did suffer. But I needed to work to pay my bills. So I put life and God and my passion for writing on the back burner to make money, each day feeling a bit of a failure for not being who I used to be. As talk of marriage became up more often, I finally felt free to admit that I needed to leave. I began talking with my boss and planning for my departure. I looked forward to moving out of the fast lane and moving into a life I really wanted: as a wife and mom who writes as God inspires.

This spring I hit a rough patch with my boyfriend, which I believed was due to the distance. We both got testy and picked fights. The content didn't seem to me to be anything substantial, and we both agreed that we needed time to develop an everyday relationship. With my job change in the works, I agreed that we needed to take a break and slow things down. I knew enough about relationships to realize that they have seasons of peaks and valleys and understood that it was to be expected that the distance would create a valley, especially if we really did want to be together. He had been so confident in his love for me that I felt secure in stepping back for the time being to get caught up in the other areas of our lives. We continued to talk every week, and I continued to share my status of my transition with him. I hated the thought of selling my house (see previous posts) but it was tempered by the idea of moving into his house after we were married. As my final day at work neared, I started thinking about where I would move. Would I stay here and visit there more extendedly? Or should I just go ahead and move to where he lived? We had talked about both. Finally I decided that moving sooner rather than later would be easier--one move, and I would have plenty of new things to occupy my thoughts and hopefully help with the transition. I was scared for all the change, but so excited about starting this much-anticipated new chapter of my life.

And then the other shoe dropped.

A week before my last day at work, he called to see how my day went. We were planning to get together in Minnesota in a few weeks and talked about how good it would be to actually see each other again. We got talking about my transition and my move. And that's when he told me he had changed his mind. He didn't want to marry me after all. He had made the decision in his mind and had emotionally moved on.

<<<The thing is, as much as I hate the way things ended, I understand it. Well, maybe not IT, but him. He's so much like me, personality-wise. In all the good ways and in all the annoying ways. Typically I've been the one to internalize my concerns and spring a decision on someone. Granted, I never got this far, and I never took my words back, but I still understand what drives a person to have this sort of decision-making thought process about someone without that someone. Being on the other side has forever cured me from not sharing my apprehensions with someone along the way. We have our differences, but I can't imagine finding someone so much the same. And that's what makes me sad. I can't say it was the right decision. For sure, it was a premature decision. But it is the decision he made, so it's decision I'll accept.>>>

I can't say that I handled it as well as I could have. I know that he cares for me, and I do think he realizes how much it hurt me. At the same time, I wasn't willing to take his olive branch of friendship, either. You can't offer someone your heart, your dreams, your life...and then say, "Never mind all that, but let's be friends." I thought we were friends...and more! I was blindsided by his change of heart. I thought I was finally secure in a relationship that could weather ups and downs. He was plain down and out. I just didn't see it coming.

We didn't get together as planned in Minnesota, though we did see each other twice. Once was anticipated, when we were in the same place at the same time. The other was an odd coincidence, where we were in the same suburb in the same restaurant. Our relationship was filled with little coincidences and affirmations. I'm sure they played a part in why I let myself fall for him so fast and so hard. It just seemed like everything was perfectly aligned for us to be together at just this time.

We didn't really talk when we saw each other, either time. I don't know what he experienced, but what I felt was the horrible awkwardness of wanting so much for him to show me in some way at all that he did care for me once, even if he no longer did. I wanted him to say he was sorry that it didn't turn out the way we dreamed, because it was a really wonderful dream. I wanted to see some sense of sadness and pain, not because I want him to be full of sadness and pain, but because I don't want to believe that he could get over me so quickly. I wish I could get over him as quickly. But he didn't reach out to me. He didn't touch me. He hardly said anything. And that's how I knew it really was over, and part of me wonders if it ever was. It had been so wonderful, I think it must have been just a dream.

Since then, I've left my job. I'm still selling my house. And after that, I'm not really sure. I'm praying that God will show me what I can still do well with the lasting limitations of my head injury. Life is not turning out the way I planned, and I'm in desperate need for Him to show me a new plan. Hope deferred makes the heart sick. I feel like my heart is terminally ill.

My family here got me a webcam so I can still see them after they move. I gave back all my ex-boyfriend's things so I wouldn't have to see them anymore. As I've been cleaning and sorting through my things to prepare my house to list, I've been going through my memory boxes. Pictures of my family here. Pictures of the man with whom I thought I was going to have a family of my own. One set of pictures got burned to a CD so I'll have them when I settle in my next place. The other set got deleted so I can start healing.

I'm starting to say goodbye.

Struggle

It's been quite a month since my last post. To be honest, I've not been exactly sure how to share what's been going on. There have been some significant changes in my life and a few rather heartbreaking disappointments. My life is not moving in the direction I thought it was just a few short months ago and I'm grieving the differences.

The reality is that I struggle so much with struggle. I like to think that as a woman of faith I should just be able to happily take in whatever comes my way. A friend shared with me that the peaks and valleys of life are both to be expected, and yet we are so surprised (disappointed, shocked, angry) when we hit that next valley...as if we are somehow immune to them. I shared with another friend the honest humanity of my emotions...I want to be above these feelings. I want to be unfazed by life's disappointments. I want to smile and have an unshakable faith. I want that, even in the midst of being blindsided by my circumstances, to believe I can be so utterly fulfilled with God alone that being let down by someone I loved would somehow not hurt quite so much.

The truth is, that hope is a fantasy. We are created for community. We are designed to desire and be desired by others. When hope is deferred, when dreams are dashed, our fragile hearts can't help but break because anything less means we didn't really love in the first place. So I'm encouraged by my hurt, as twisted as that sounds, because it means I did love, even if I lost it. And I'm encouraged that even though God isn't obligated to answer our whys, He still invites us to ask the hard questions.

I have so many questions.

An Unfinished Life

My mom recommended this movie. I could tell from her email that it really hit home with her. We don't always agree on movies, but I put it on my list.

Last night I was hanging out with a friend. She mentioned that she had rented a few movies, and wouldn't you know, an unfinished life was one of them.

I can see why it resonated so strongly with my mom. The movie explores themes of forgiveness, making peace with the choices we've made and how those choices affect others. In one poignant scene, the main character (who lost her husband in a car accident, and has since made a series of poor choices in boyfriends) says to her daughter, "I always think of you first!," to which the daughter replies, "Then it should start to show."

Earlier in the evening, at church, the message was on parenting. One of the key points was the influence of modeling and that 80% of children cite their parents as the #1 model for their moral ideals.

Something I've been mulling over for awhile is the idea that we have two opportunities with each choice we make. First we do something, then we choose to either reinforce or repair that action. For example, if I get into a disagreement with someone and say something rather unloving, I did something wrong, probably more out of emotion than choice. However, if I choose not to go back to that person, apologize and make amends, then I am intentionally choosing to reinforce that hurtful sentiment. From a spiritual perspective, I believe our conscience (empowered by the Holy Spirit) brings to mind when we're in need of repairing a situation. If we choose to follow through, to repair the harm we've done, we maintain our sensitivity. If we choose to ignore those promptings, we harden our hearts and it becomes more difficult to do the right thing.

What I like about this movie is that every character has a pretty understandable reason to be bitter or angry about life's circumstances, and it realistically shows the consequences for how they choose to respond to the life they've been given.

Thanks, Mom!

Erin

Happy Birthday, Erin!

I have a few books in the hopper. One of the ones I suspect will be contracted soon is the relationship book, Getting to I Do After Mom and Dad Said I Don't. The book is a follow-up, in some sense, to Generation Ex, in that it's the same general topic (the long-term effects of parental divorce). But this one will focus on the granddaddy of all effects, our ability to form healthy attachments, especially romantic ones.

At 34, in West Michigan especially, I find myself in an odd predicament. Folks around here tend to marry young, between 22-27. Friends who are my age, for the most part, are married and parents of between one and four children. I do have single friends as well, but the majority are between seven and ten years younger than me. To be honest, it's a challenge at times. I love my friends, but I feel a wall of dissimilarity between us at times, like I missed life's boat somewhere along the line and I'm the 30-year-old high school senior. We're created for community and I think we miss out on something vital when we don't have someone on the same point on the path with us.

I recently realized something about myself. I think I can handle most anything if I can visualize a way I can write about it later. When I can view my situation as research, I can redeem it. There's a lot of change coming up in my life. A lot of it is out of my control, but the thing I can control is my response to each change.

I've often wondered why God has allowed me to experience two parental divorces. It doesn't seem fair and it's certainly made my life much more difficult. The road to wholeness has had more than its share of bumps and bruises. But I am a writer, and thousands of people have, in reading my book, been encouraged because they found another person on the same point on the path of life. We are comforted because we are not alone.

I have often wondered why God has allowed relationships to be so difficult for me. (I'm not saying I'm a victim. I am becoming increasingly aware of the mistakes I've made and am making!). It's just that this is not what I expected my life to look like, relationally, at this point. But again, the redemption for me comes in the writing. I'm excited to write about this next chapter, and as much as I hate the reality of it,--and acknowledge that acknowledging I'm writing this book to any single guy is pretty much the kiss of death for dating that guy!--I have hope, too.

When I was writing Generation Ex, I had to get to a certain point in the healing process before I could write. In fact, I didn't realize this until I was writing. I didn't want to write as an expert or present myself as someone who totally had her stuff together. At the same time, I needed to feel that I had covered a little bit of territory. My editor (the brilliant Liz) showed amazing discernment to let me write out my thoughts. She knew I needed to write them out to process them, and I had to process them--in all their unfiltered glory--so I could get to the good stuff, the redemptive stuff. To give you an idea of what I'm talking about, my book is about 65,000 words. My first draft was 225,000!

In the same way, when it comes to Getting to I Do After Mom and Dad Said I Don't, I think there were a few emotional housekeeping tasks I had to take care of first before I could really say what needs to be said.

1. I had to lose my innocence. I don't mean this in a purity sense. Rather, there is a pervasive idea, especially in Christian circles, that marriage is something that just "happens," when the time is right. I'm not saying we should be obnoxious about dating or obsessive about our desires to be married, but we need to be active, even proactive (especially guys), at times. We don't tell the person who wants a job to sit on their duff and expect God to drop a job in their lap. We tell them to go to college, to get an internship, to network, to send out resumes, to make follow-up calls, go on interviews, send thank you notes. We don't tell the person wanting to dig out of debt to just keep doing what they're doing and wish and pray their way to debt-free living. No, we challenge them to cut back on expenses, make wise buying decisions, look for additional revenue, share expenses (like housing) with others. But when a single says he or she wants to get married, well-meaning folks say things like, "When you stop looking, it'll happen!" What?!? The sad thing is, I bought this lie hook, line and sinker. I barely gave marriage a thought before thirty. If anyone asked me why I was single (and you know they did), I said it was because God hadn't brought the right guy to me, or that I was focusing on my career, or that I was focused on other things. But I didn't take responsibility for the fact that I wasn't expanding my social circle, I wasn't letting people know what kind of guy I'd like to meet. I wasn't dating! Once I hit 30, I had a bit of startling revelation. Relationships don't just happen. That's also the age when friendships start changing to align more by stage of life than age of life. If I can make my career, my writing, my finances, and my faith a priority, I can certainly make relationships a priority, and I should be ashamed to do that. I had to take responsibility for the things I was doing--or not doing--to prevent me from meeting guys I would likely like.

2. God and I had to get real. I've been a Christian for fifteen years, and as time goes on, He reveals additional layers of His character to me. Gary Thomas' brilliant book, Sacred Marriage, rocked my world with its subtitle (and text): What if the purpose of marriage is to make us holy more than happy? What was extraordinarily freeing about this question was that I already knew marriage doesn't make us happy. It can, but when one person or two in a marriage make it the barometer of personal happiness, bad things happen. But, if marriage can be viewed also as a spiritual discipline--a means to draw closer to God and better reflect the character of God--I only needed to look at my own relationship with God to be confident that I was capable of marriage. (Before that, honestly, I avoided marriage to avoid divorce. I thought I was destined to repeat my parents' patterns). I could see that God and I had experienced relational extremes--times of intimacy and times of distance--but wherever we were at the moment, I knew our relationship was still permanent and we'd bounce back. That was a good first step. More recently, I've learned to have greater authenticity with God. Sure, before, I would share my frustrations with Him, but my perfectionistic complex prevented me from really being open. I would vent out my thoughts with some reserve, fearful that if I made God mad, He would maybe go away. Now I understand that God can handle my emotions. King David in the Bible let God have it more than once, and he was called a man after God's own heart. I want to want what God wants. And if David can be real, so can I. I'm not advocating regular shouting matches with God, mind you, I'm just saying that God can handle our anger, frustration, pain, disappointment and everything else. In fact, there's no One better to dump all that emotion on, so we can exchange it for something a bit more palatable (and helpful) for interacting with real people.

3. I had to get my heart broken. This is the one that really hurts. I had this optimistic hope that if I just "focused" on Jesus, that God would drop Mr. Wonderful in my life, and we would have this blissful courtship that would lead to marriage, free from doubts and disagreements. I wouldn't have to date a lot of different guys. The first guy would be the right guy, and we'd live happily ever after. Up til last year, I dated more with my head than my heart, so when things didn't work out, I could rationalize the reason. I liked him, but... Then this fall, I met an amazing guy who actually met and exceeded my list of ten character qualities. My friends liked him too, so the usual cautions and hesitations were gone. He pursued me, hard. I put up my usual walls and he busted them down, telling me exactly what I needed to hear. For once, I let my heart get involved. I could really see what life would be like with him, and for once, that--with all the challenges and adjustments it would require--was more desirable that what I had planned for myself. I liked him and he liked me. I had someone special in my life over what is usually the hardest part of the year--Christmas, New Years, my birthday, Valentines day...plus two weddings. It was wonderful. And then it ended. I don't get it. I don't like it. I don't understand it. But it is what it is. Over. And in my brokenness, I have been softened. Humbled. Ready to do the hard work of owning up the mistakes I've made, both with him and with others. Ready to fine tune the parts of me that tune out the kind of guy I want to marry. Funny, I thought I'd be getting married this fall. Instead I'll be writing about it. Redemption, I hope.

All this brings me back to Erin. She's been an amazing sounding board (if not a reluctant one, at times). She drags me out of my house to play golf, disc golf, Catan, go to the local Improv show, or just get out. She helps me celebrate the progress I can't always see. And because she's younger than me, she inspires me. She's learning these lessons now, at 27, so she won't be the slow learner that I have been. Redemption, I hope.

Happy birthday, Erin!

SWF seeks...

I've made an executive decision. I've amended my wish list for my Mr. Wonderful. Christian, still most important. Single (not divorced), still required. My new #3: technologically saavy.

I finally upgraded from my classic HP DeskJet 712 C (3 ppm) to an HP PhotoSmart 2710 all-in-one (23 ppm). I bought it a week ago and I'm still trying to figure the thing out.

In the meantime, at one point I figured out how to use Hello to post pictures, but was stuck on how to post pictures on my sidebars. Now...I can't remember how to use Hello. Hello? I know I'm head-injured, but this is just crazy!

Calling all blogga-brainiacs (single or otherwise), HELP!

The World As Best I Remember It, Volume 1

A recent conversation reminded me that we often have the emotional resources to persevere during a crisis. It is typically later, when the immediate threat passes that we tend to fall apart emotionally, or maybe finally allow ourselves to experience the emotions we had kept at bay. In an email last week to friends and family, I offered a blanket apology for not keeping up on relationships (or life, for that matter) since sustaining a mild traumatic brain injury in January of 2004. Realizing that the emotional aftermath comes, well, after, the trauma, I discover grace for all these messy feelings that now overwhelm me. I lost most of a YEAR of my life. I realized a lifelong dream when my first book came out, but I don't remember. I've done interviews and events, but I don't remember. I've met people, important people to me, but I don't remember. I shared my heart and my life with others, and they with me, but I don't remember. Everything from January 21, 2004 until sometime in November is lost in a fog that won't clear.

My speech therapist had me journal while I was off-work. I've journaled since high school, but this was different. These rambled writings record the events, but not the emotions, of my lost year. I hate that I feel like a spectator in the history of my own life, relying on others to tell me, through their eyes, where I've been and who I've become. Thus, the emotional flood and the unsettling question: who am I now?

Some very dear friends have walked with me closer that I realize, and I suppose others have simply wondered where I've been, why I'm gone, or maybe haven't wondered at all. As my health and mental endurance improve, it's humbling to see that life has gone along just fine without me and now I wrestle to figure out where I still fit in. Everything has changed. Friends have married, had children, moved away and moved on. My little church group that previously provided my everyday friendships has grown considerably, and those who knew me before are far outnumbered by those who've met me since. Those who were closest to me before are closer to others now. But perhaps the most unsettling realization is that I have changed. Formerly the uber-independent woman, I now realize that I need much more than I like to admit. Not just on a physical, please-drive-me-around, help-me-with-errands kind of a way, but on the much more vulnerable, emotional, please-love-me-because-God-created-me-to-be-a-relational-being kind of way. No longer do I want to conquer the world. I just want to make sense of my world.

I suppose on a spiritual level, I'm the same person: A created being in desperate need of her Creator Savior. But my priorities have changed, my goals have changed, my hopes have changed. Accomplishments and accolades aren't nearly as important as the contentment of commited relationships and knowing that I'm a priority to those whose relationships I have prioritized. In case I ever doubted, the physical is fleeting. There's a lot I've loved about my life. I've been able to do a lot of wonderful things: travel the world, write a book, pay off my debt, own a home, adopt a puppy...And while all those things are great, at the end of the day, I know what it is to need, and I don't want to be alone. I've made lists of to do and to have before feeling "ready" for marriage. I realize now that you will never be ready. You can never get all your ducks in a row because only God knows how many ducks there are. While chemistry and attraction has an important place, I realize that confidence in the security of a relationship depends more on character and a capacity to commit.

I can work and plan and prepare all I want to be the best friend, best wife I can possibly be, but ultimately, it's a matter of the heart. Will I choose to love when it isn't convenient, easy or attractive? And from the other side, will I choose to let myself receive love when I can't give anything in return, when I am the one who needs, when what I need is embarrassing to admit because it is so basic?

This stage of my healing has been the hardest. Before, I was unable to comprehend the seriousness of my injury. My emotions were up because ignorance was truly bliss. Now I know what I have lost and I grieve what I cannot get back. I struggle because now I can experience moments of life as it used to be and rather than celebrating those periods, I'm frustrated at their fleeting nature. I struggle because my desire to be fully recovered is not enough to make it so, and that One who can make it so continues to say, "Not yet," or, I fear, "Not again in this life."

If you are a person of faith, I covet your prayers:
* for ongoing healing, especially fully restored mental endurance to carry a full load at work, with reserves to be able to keep up with home, relationships and life.
* for a new vision for what God intends for me. The old vision has expired and I need desperately to discern His direction.
* for the ability to accept myself for who I am today and see myself through the loving eyes of my Father.
* for restored trust in the One who promises to provide good things--even in the midst of hard things.

Grasping Grace

God is strange. Every time I think I get a grasp on grace, He amazes me. Last week is a great example. It was a discouraging week on the surface, and as a result I have some re-evaluating to do of things I've assumed and taken for granted. Death of a dream stuff. Hard stuff for the heart. But then, I go to small group and one of the couples shares with me how something I said helped get their marriage through a rough patch. So crazy...I would love to be married, to be involved in marriage ministry of some sort, to use what I've learned and experienced to help a generation raised on divorce to have great marriages...and yet I can't even get a second date! And just went I'm discouraged about that, someone I respect tells me that I've had a positive effect on her marriage. The irony.

Maybe that's just it, maybe my dream for influencing marriages is something that I'm meant to do as a single. It's certainly not my first choice, but then, the Catholics don't seem to have an issue with single priests ministering to engaged and married couples. It just seems that a person has more credibility when they are speaking from experience rather than theory. Frustrating though, because on one hand, I can't make someone chose me, and at the same time, I don't know how to move forward with my dream alone. And that's when God's grace steps in.

This week, in addition to the encouragement at small group, I received a book from a woman who cited Generation Ex in her new book, When Your Marriage Dies. Laura's book is for spouses stuck on the wrong side of no-fault divorce. God's grace is demonstrated again in the way my book has been embraced by divorced parents.

The last bit of unexpected encouragement I want to share with you has to do with another new book. Jesse Butterworth was the lead singer of a band called Daily Planet when I met him a few weeks back. His song, "Six String Rocketeer" does a wonderful job of showing how children of divorce can escape into a hobby (music for him, writing for me) as a way of coping with the pressures and stress of parental divorce. (You can read the lyrics to SSR at my site). Jesse has now written a memoir based on the song and I was asked to endorse it. I get a bit frustrated when I go to sites or see authors only promote their own work, as if any one person can get a complete handle on a topic. So I was happy to see another child of divorce get his voice out there. As soon as the manuscript arrived, I jumped in. Jesse is a vivid writer and reading his manuscript was a emotional experience for me. He does a wonderful job of bringing those emotions to the surface, even as he revisits them through the objective eyes of an adult. As I was reading I started thinking of how to craft my (first!) endorsement. And then I got to the end. The original conclusion was misleading, I thought, and to endorse the book as it was would be to contradict one of the major points of my books. I felt stuck. I really wanted to support Jesse's book, but wasn't sure how to do so without being a hypocrite to my own views. So I wrote a letter to the publisher, sharing my concerns and offering a couple of solutions. She wrote me back, very graciously, and thanked me for reading the manuscript, even if I couldn't endorsement. End of topic...or so I thought.

She forwarded my email to Jesse's editor, who in turn, forwarded it to Jesse. I am humbled that Jesse took my concerns to heart. Jesse and I emailed a few times and he made a few tweaks that I believe will make his book more powerful and effective to his readers. So mark your calendars, folks, Six String Rocketeer by Jesse Butterworth is coming to a store near you this September, with this endorsement:

As a child of divorce, Jesse’s song, “Six String Rocketeer,” is on the soundtrack of my life. Now with his book, Jesse has crafted a poignant memoir, introducing readers to the important first step of acknowledging that parental divorce has lasting effects. His gracious approach and discerning insights invite readers to visit his past, and in the process, better understand their own.
-Jen Abbas, author of Generation Ex: Adult Children of Divorce and the Healing of Our Pain.

A Conversation With God About Desire

My 24-year-old sister recently asked me to be her bridesmaid. Did I mention that this is my younger…make that much younger sister? Carisa is a stunningly beautiful woman, inside and out. Truly…she modeled to pay for college. I am so happy for her, and her fiancé is a great guy. Carisa has had guys tripping over her since she hit puberty and I like to remind her that when she became part of my life as a five-year-old, she used to think I was the greatest thing since sliced bread. It was a little annoying as a teenager to have a little kid follow you around, but inside, it was pretty cool to be adored. Funny how time changes things. Today I envy her.

I heard a speaker say this week that the average age of first marriage for Gen X’ers is 30. Makes sense, the generation raised with divorce is afraid of marriage. But millennials like my sister, are the most nurtured generation, and their maternal and paternal instincts haven’t been as stuffed as ours. So they’re tying the knot a lot earlier.

All this marriage talk has got me thinking again about my own lack of matrimonial prospects. I dug out a poem I wrote a few years back as I wrestled to live with my longing. For some reason, I’m feeling fearless today—perhaps it has something to do with the fact that anyone who wants to know my insecurities only has to visit their local bookstore to read all about it. So I’ve decided to share my poem with you. Maybe some of you out there will sense that you aren’t alone either. I’d love to hear what you think.

A Conversation With God About Desire
Lover of my soul,
Forgive me for my doubt
My past precedes my thinking
And I struggle to grasp Your grace
I say that I love you
Yet I take my delight
In my desire for another’s love
How can You continue to love me
In spite of my idolatry?
I want to be a treasured priority
And yet I give You secondary affection
The ghost of my hope comes first in my heart
Help me to want to want what is right.
Fill my mind with this unshakable truth:
I am infinitely loved and intricately designed
For a purpose and a plan that is yet to be revealed
Help me to take captive every thought
That leads me away from the truth that frees me
And give me the strength to hurtle it out of mind.
I question Your love
Yet ignore the love letter You wrote me
Thank You for Your promise to cherish me.
Let me see beyond my circumstances
And daily find cause to rejoice
Not so much because of my circumstances
But because I am not alone in them
Thank You for Your pledge to never leave me.
Regardless of my feelings, I know You will never forsake me.
I have no need to worry about my future
Because You already know it and are in it.
Let me carry my concerns to the cradle of Your arms
With gratitude and trust
Unclench my hands and melt my hardened heart
Open my eyes to see that You delight in me
Even when you deny me
The fulfillment of my most urgent desire.
Fill me with a peace that trusts
Even when the thing hoped for seems hopeless
Guard my heart in the safety of your sentry.
Guard my mind with thoughts that are true:
I am loved and I am worthy of love.
I am Your princess, and your intentions toward me are noble.
Your ways are right
Your desire for me is purity
Of heart, mind, body and spirit
And a character and countenance that is altogether lovely.
When I am tempted to look around for love
Gently pull my face to Your gaze
And let me see all that is admirable
In your personified perfection.
You are altogether excellent and praiseworthy.
Let me have no other thought
Than to love You and serve You
To learn from You and honor You
To find my contentment only in You.
So for now, I ask from you
Peace and patience
As I continue to wait for that day
When You bring another to join my journey.

-Jen Abbas
10/29/02

The End

My grandparents' marriage is ending. It's not totally unexpected. My 84-year-old grampa has been failing for several years. Mom called on Christmas Eve to tell me that hospice has been called to make Grampa comfortable. After many brushes with death, this time it's for real. Grampa's doctors—and all of us who know him—have been amazed by his perseverance. Every time we've been told to prepare for his passing, Grampa's heart somehow kept on ticking. Some has said it's my Gramma's iron will that has kept Grampa around so long. She's been known to say, "Leo, I'm not ready for you to go yet!"

My grampa and gramma have been together nearly seventy years. Seventy years! Can our generation even conceive of such commitment? Of course, they weren't all blissful years. My grandparents weathered war and trauma and heartbreak. Their marriage wasn't always a model of domestic peace and tranquillity. But in the end, what a beautiful love story! Anyone can love when their lover is lovable, but true love—really remarkable love—is when someone loves another with all they have, knowing that the object of their affection hasn't anything to give in return. In the seven years since my Grampa's heart started failing, my Gramma has become an incredible model of unconditional love to our family as she cared for him, cleaned up after him, laughed with him in his better moments, and yes, loved him.

In recent years, I've developed a fascination with the 40s. I've read Tom Brokaw's The Greatest Generation and I'm working through Larry King's Love Stories from World War II. Louis Armstrong, Etta James and Ella Fitzgerald have made their way into my CD collection. This Christmas, Bing Crosby joined them. I'm not saying I wish the world would revert back to the 40s, but I can't help but admire the mindset of a generation that valued commitment, honor and keeping one's word. I love watching old classic movies when men and women interact issues with a sort of gentle respect and reserve that is unheard of today. And as a traditional sort myself, I love the chivalry that men showed women in their courting rituals. How many children of divorce look with longing at the marriages of their grandparents as the model our mothers and fathers missed?

I wonder, how have we, as a society, moved from The Greatest Generation to Generation Ex? I was telling a friend about the premise of my book and he made an insightful observation. He said that the sexual revolution of the 60s was a rebellion against the institution of marriage; our generation is rebelling against the institution of divorce. Where the 60s saw people live together for free love, our generation is living together because "I can't get divorced if I don't get married."

For those of us whose spiritual convictions prevent us from acting on our urges, our sexual desires pull us in opposite directions. We don't want to marry too young—our very lives are reminders of our parents' unwise decisions. Yet our fear of failing at marriage can also prevent us from taking the plunge even when the water's as warm as it can be.

I've read recently that the fastest growing area of counseling is marital counseling for newlyweds. Those of us who grew up with divorce—either as children or adults—want to be proactive to keep our marriages strong. Just as we regularly take our cars to the shop for preventative maintenance, we are painfully aware that without intentionality, our marriages can break down unexpectedly. I'm starting to think I have another book in me. Maybe it's just for me, the way Generation Ex began as my own personal project. I'd like to write about the romance trigger. If divorce, by definition, is the breakdown of a marriage, then it must be that the greatest point of impact on the children affected by divorce is our own marriages. My working title is Generation Ex and the Quest for Love: Getting to I Do after Mom and Dad Said I Don't. I have several chapters that didn't make the Generation Ex cut. Chapters on why we wait and why we maybe should. Chapters on learning from our parents' past and how to recognize a good marriage partner. I'd love to hear from you. If you're single, how has your parents' divorce affected your dating life—or lack thereof? If you're married, how did the divorce influence your courtship story?

In memory of Leo "Moose" Manthei

June 13, 1919 - January 13, 2004