The Heart Matters

31486261#31486261 - A link to the Today show report on “outdated marriage.”

Upon reading the article, On marriage: Let’s call the whole thing off, a clever play on the song by George Gershwin, I am at a loss for words. Perhaps, it is not a loss of words, rather a sense of being slapped in the face with a piece of rotting meat. I am astonished. Marriage is no longer viable. It is outdated and unrealistic, not worth the time.

This was news to me, a mother of four sons, ages 15 through 9, married now for 18 years, most of which have been amazingly fulfilling and full of love. Sweat dripped from my brow as I calculated the time left for me in antiquated marriage. Two years until I wake up and file the papers. Gulp.

Author Sandra Tsing Loh, after 20 years of hard work as mother, companion, professional writer, household manager and “go-fer,” has decided to get a divorce. She laments that she just works too hard to attempt to put the romance back into a marriage that lost the heat long ago. Her marriage is not worth her effort. She hasn’t got time for the pain.

After counseling sessions and confessing an affair, not only has Ms. Loh opted for divorce, but she is now questioning the entire institution of marriage. Marriage is not worth it. This is not a view from an embittered divorcee, but rather the insight of the enlightened. She writes :

Why do we still insist on marriage? Sure, it made sense to agrarian families before 1900, when to farm the land, one needed two spouses, grandparents, and a raft of children. But now that we have white-collar work and washing machines, and our life expectancy has shot from 47 to 77, isn’t the idea of lifelong marriage obsolete?

Well, it seems that in many Western countries the notion of marriage is becoming less popular as statistics from the World Values Survey indicate, while Americans embrace marriage as “highly valued,” even though America has the highest divorce rate of any country. Ms. Loh points out that Americans have the highest view of marriage.

“Marriage is an outdated institution” than citizens of any other Western country surveyed (compare the U.S.’s tiny 10 percent with France’s 36 percent). We are also more religious — more Americans (60 percent) say they attend religious services once a month than do the Vatican-centric Italians (54 percent) or, no surprise, the laissez-faire French (12 percent). At the same time, Americans endure the highest divorce rate in the Western world. In short, although we say we love religion and marriage, Cherlin notes, “religious Americans are more likely to divorce than secular Swedes.”

So Americans are a marriage centric nation of individuals who embrace the values of monogamy in marriage as well as the pursuit of personal happiness. Loh observes that since Americans value individualism as well as happily-ever-after-marriage, these competing values result in divorce, which explains our country’s high divorce rate as compared to other nations.

Honestly, I found this argument intriguing, for she argues that our sense of the individual over community, or even family, contradicts the substance of marriage.  Hence, Americans are doomed to the grinding cycle of marriage, divorce, remarriage, divorce and so forth. It just isn’t worth it. Interesting concept, I suppose.

Then, Ms. Loh begins to share her observations with her core group of women friends, who all have been married for many years.Soon after Ms. Loh divorced and shared her enlightened perspective, that they too were considering to make the break from the bonds that imprison them. They too just don’t have the time to make their marriages work. Marriage and love relationships take work. Effort is required.

Far better to be happy as an individual and to arrange some sort of civil agreement with the baby-daddies. So long as the children are not disturbed and they have the security of a household where mom and dad come and go, no harm done. The kids are just fine. Just follow the rules. Rules do not require love. Rules make it easier – to make excuses – or to leave.

That's right ladies - you don't need a man.

This is where my brain pops forth from my skull. So, Ms. Loh and Company, since you and your gal pals all have white collar jobs, which equals wealth, you can purchase your freedom. You will have your home – apart from your ex and your kids. Your ex will need his separate place. Your children will have their fake – fairyland home where mom and dad come and go. I count three households, unless you and your ex share a pad.

This plan is economic disaster for anyone other than the wealthy, not to mention it is peculiar. So what you are really saying is that the wealthy can have their separate lives and marriage is outdated for them. The poor and undereducated, well, they must remain in outmoded marriage, even though it is supposedly biological torture – as humans only experience the sensation of chemical induced love for the max of four years.

Geez, after reading this article, I felt like I had just finished watching the HBO series Rome. Now that was a show full of debauchery – masses of intertwined flesh - the wealthy women had all the choices – plotting for power, using their bodies for gain. For them, marriage was a power play of position and political strategy. Personally, I am having difficulty seeing the difference from what Ms. Loh is proposing and what I witnessed in that series – moral and civil decline, not to mentioned the absence of  love.

So now the women’s movement is recruiting wives of modern wealth and education to leave their husbands, or heck, never marry. You reason, children only suffer harm when a string of men are introduced to them. Those children must bond with these men and, in turn, suffer repetitive emotional loss. Children thrive in a stable home where civility and rules are followed. Under your paradigm, love is not necessary, because love takes work.

A world without genuine loving relationships is what you postulate, Ms. Loh. A world where men and women do not sacrifice and work at love – is a world not worth living in. A world lived for self only – is a world without God. It is a world of death and decay. Maybe that’s why I felt as though I was hit in the face with rotten flesh – for that is what man and women are with out love.

The apostle Paul put it best in 1Cor 13: 1-3.

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.

Sometimes, we need to take a good look at ourselves and acknowledge that love takes work and it requires sacrifice that is other’s focused. I know that after reading this article, I am taking a good look at myself.

I use rules all the time to replace the work – the huge painful effort- that love requires. It is not easy – that is for sure, but is it genuine and it is alive. Love focused outwards is anything, but decayed. It is everything that is good.

Happy 18th anniversary, Steve. I love you more than when we first said “I do.”

Additional Information

Pope and Pemp. These are the names my two youngest sons have given to each other. Over the years, these are the familiar monikers which we use with affection when engaging one another.

Pope is the elder of these two boys. Pemp is two years his minor almost to the day. These brothers share a room as well as something more profound and don’t quite know what to do about it. They share a life. They have a relationship.

At times they play and create the most amazing adventures. Dominos lined up, back to back, cascade up and down the stairs. A maze of tiny monoliths scattered throughout our living space. They tip-toe, careful not to knock over hours of cooperative efforts. They really do enjoy being together.

Togetherness. This is what gives them so much joy and yet too causes so much grief and conflict. Last night was full of anger, hate, and sorrow. They had had “enough” of each other.

The boys sat on the couch, poking at each other and using a list of profanity that was surprisingly violent. “F-erface!” one boy yells. The other sings back, “Pemper – crappy pants, you like trouble-pants, Pemper, crappy-pants.” They intensify the battle with hateful words, tearing at each other much like ravenous wolves. Wounded by bitter barbs, they frantically hurl worsening insults at each other. Tempers flare. The manipulation heightens.

I pull out the only weapon available to me in the heat of this slaughter. The mom voice booms throughout the room. “STOP IT NOW!” They seem to not hear me. I grab the youngest by the arm, staring into his eyes. “I said to STOP. You are violent and this is not going any further. SHUT YOUR MOUTH.” Pope continues to sing. “That includes you and I know you can control your mouth. If not, I’m sure I can help you with it.” I quip.

I hold both of their attentions now. I stammer for the right, most implactful words. They stare blankly at me. I need to act – now. I ask them if they like each other. They willingly admit that they do not. Those once vicious warriors, now begin to whine and to complain, each accusing the other of atrocities and pathetically pleading for their own innocence. They know that I have power over them to make their lives miserable.

Sibling relationships - they need tools to resolve conflict

“So, you both seem to really hate each other.” I observe.

“Yes,” the older agrees. “I wish Pemp was out of my life.”

I turn to the younger boy, ” How do you feel about Pope?”

“I wish he were gone. I am tired of him singing that song about me. He makes me so angry.”

“So, you hate Noah?” I ask, trying to clarify their feelings.

“Yep, we hate each other.” They nod in agreement.

“Ok, so what if on your way to school tomorrow, Pemp crosses the street only to get run over by a truck. He’s dead or dying. How do you feel?”

Noah begins to weep. “No!” he cries out.

I turn to Henry, “What if a bus creams Noah on your way home? Would that get him out of your life?” Henry turns white and begins to weep. “Well,” I continue, “that would get him out of your life, right?”

Both boys cling to each other and start to weep. “Oh,” I observe. “You appear to care about each other. I see that you both don’t really hate each other – not completely. You both would feel horrible if one of you died or nearly died.”

They begin to weep and tell each other that they loved one another. They are no longer hard towards one another. Their hearts have softened. At that moment, all they care about was being together. I seize the moment.

“I think you both really do love one another. You just don’t know how to work out your conflicts. I think you both need to talk about why you are so hurt so that you can be free to enjoy your time with each other.” I pause and wait to see a small miracle.

The barriers come tumbling down. It’s one of the most beautiful moments that I have had with them in quite some time. They were afraid to talk about their feelings. They were confused, embarrassed – even afraid that they could never change. One even feared he was going to hell because he was doomed to be hateful. I understood feeling all of those things. Poor dear boys, my heart just ached for them, but I rejoiced even more. They were talking and sharing from the heart. It was one of those magical moments that only a parent can appreciate – one of those joy and pain moments.

The evening ended with Pemp, Pope and I playing a silly game called Pass the Pigs. I won. Funny, though I may have won the game,  these boys are the ones who had the victory. It was a victory of redemptive love. I hope to build on that moment – to use it in equipping them to build a deeper relationship.

A game played together - proof that pigs can play together like men

I could go back and second guess how I handled it. Did I go to far with pulling out the DEATH card? Maybe. God used my flawed efforts anyway. The boys were so joyful as they got ready for bed. Neither boy even cared that they had lost the game (which is in itself a miraculous event). It was evident that they knew in their hearts that they had won.

And that’s alright with me! Jesus is just alright with me. Sing it Doobie Brothers!

Jesus is just alright with me, Jesus is just alright, oh yeah
Jesus is just alright with me, Jesus is just alright
I don’t care what they may say
I don’t care what they may do
I don’t care what they may say
Jesus is just alright, oh yeah
Jesus is just alright

Additional Information

After 24 hours of irregular labor and 12 hours of progressively intensified “pangs,” combined with back labor, my first son was born. Needless to say, I was exhausted and overjoyed that my son was born. Contrary to what the nurses told me, Evan was not rushed to the ICU – he had not aspirated the meconium. They did not need to extract him with forceps – he had turned to a favorable position prior to birth. Everything had gone better than the professionals had projected.

“Is it over?” I gasped to the woman at my side. She had vigilantly watched over me and not left me since the heart monitor had crashed. She was there as they lifted my son up so that I could see him. She just smiled back at me and quipped, “No, it’s not over. It’s only just begun.” The team rushed Evan to the neonatal unit for further clean up and observation. I did not get to hold my son. Gulp.

Welcome to the pain and joy of motherhood. That wise-cracking nurse sure knew what she was talking about. I’m sure she had a few kids well under her wing by that time. She must have been a prophet of sort.

Fourteen years later and three sons more, I clearly understand what she meant. It has only just begun. Joy and pain. Both such strong emotions are tied so tightly to motherhood.

This weekend was filled with immense joy – both Noah and Henry had their birthdays. Noah turned 11 (a prime number, he reminded all) and Henry turned 9. They were both so grateful and joy filled. Such wonderful memories were made this weekend. My heart is over flowing with tears of joy.

We did not have extravagant parties – just a cake and a present. We dined as a family on each boy’s menu of choice. Henry chose beef and broccoli and Noah mac and “cheez.” An impromptu sleep over topped the weekend off – as each boy had a friend stay over night. It was such a lovely time. That is the joy.

Now for the pain. Today I held my son as he wept – twice. First he cried for a new classmate whose brother died last Halloween. Henry was so distraught. He could not contain his sorrow for his new friend Ollie. Then later, he openly wept as he told me about some school troubles.

I guess fifth graders have been asking him if he is Noah’s brother. At first, I thought that these kids were being mean or even hitting Henry. Henry was so upset as he told me about these children. Further questioning revealed the painful truth.

Henry does not want to acknowledge that he is Noah’s brother because most of the fifth grade boys tease and do not like Noah. Henry is rather popular and relishes his band of friends. Henry does not want to be the brother of the outcast or to become an outcast by association with his brother.

My heart broke. For both of my sons. I wept for Noah because I know just how terrible the boys treat him. He does have the one friend who stands up for him. But this boy is taking some heat. Will Noah’s best friend leave him? Now Noah’s brother does not want to acknowledge him. Noah loves Henry. These brothers are so close – what will become of their relationship?

My heart broke for Henry too. He so wants to be popular. He does not want to suffer for another’s sake. Henry and I talked – he does not ever want anyone to ask or to know that he and Noah are brothers. Henry told me that he is afraid of being hated like Noah is.

I asked Henry if he knew what it meant to love someone. To really love someone. He said he did. Then I told him if that was so – then he understands that he may need to suffer – like people knowing that he is Noah’s brother. I asked Henry how he thought his denial would make Noah feel? Henry wept once more as he acknowledged that Noah would be sad.

I told Henry that sometimes loving someone means that you feel sad too – even if it is unfair. Henry just cried and told me, “But I’m just so afraid.” All I could do is hold my son. My heart wept with sorrow.

So, the joy and pain of motherhood never ends – I certainly do not have all the answers, but I so know that Jesus understands this sort of pain – this sort of joy. For the moment, I’m okay with that. I am so tempted to go running about and raising hell at the school.

I know that I must do something about this trouble at school – but exactly what is the question. I know that in this horrible world there will always be bullies and that there will always be wimps – but it really hurts to see Noah suffer.

Henry is suffering too. Part of me is angry with him – but I understand that it is so hard to stand up to ridicule – especially when you are a little sanguine prince.

For now, I am going to be still and seek the Lord out on this. Oh, the joy and sorrows of motherhood. I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

Additional Information

My kids are so excited. They have the opportunity to participate in a school fund raiser. Usually this is just a minor annoyance in my life. I explain to my sons that the economy is poor and that all of their relatives are poor and do not have extra money. This year money is tighter for most people. Times of plenty are gone. I explain that we chose to give our money to invest in God’s Kingdom and not man’s. I generally proffer a small “prize” for not participating.

The schools must be on to us parents who refuse to buy crap just to support non-necessary benefits for the school. Benefits like Parcheesi, Muffins for Mom and Doughnuts for Dad are not really vital for education. They are niceties in a disjointed society, but as for a fair and equitable education – they are mere fluff. These fund-raising companies have become very clever.

I read the parent fund-raising flyer. I scanned the brochure quickly to glean what the minimum prize for a sale would be. I had to grab my face to keep my eyeballs from flying out of my head. This year’s prize was attendance at a school function – a magic show to be precise. Those who sell a minimum of 3 items get to attend the performance while those who fail are excluded.

That is so hitting below the belt. I now have to decide if I want my sons to be excluded from a school event. The worthy students get to go to a magic pep rally while those who fail are left behind in class. The hair on the back of my neck stands straight. I am revved up for a battle – one that is useless.

My youngest two sons are not the most included children in school. They struggle relationally more than most. It doesn’t help that they are so competitive and that they actually enjoy sales. While in scouts they went door to door and sold hundreds of dollars of popcorn. For some strange reason, I arbitrarily had no problem with that endeavor. I suppose I viewed scouts somehow worthy. It had some merit worthy of the time and effort. I do not view this as worthy.

The items found in this flyer are lame – $7.00 for some chocolate covered peanuts. The portion is tiny. How outrageous and wasteful! Then there is the wrapping paper – $8.00 per roll. Does anyone spend that much on paper that is going to be ripped into shreds? Dang.

So, filled with ire, I share this quandary. What is a mother to do? I could suck it up and buy some crap – that would come to $50 or $60. Or I could allow them to go door-to-door, although the brochure requests that kids do not. I could hit up people I know to buy some crap – and impose. I find that rude. Maybe that is only me.

Or I could take yet another stand and allow my sons to be excluded from a school sponsored activity. Frankly, this whole matter should not get me this worked up. Yet it does. I would love to throw a big fat infantile fit and make a spectacle of my outrage. I’m sure that would make great strides for my sons in the school system and with their peer group. Not.

Angry – I am still a bit miffed. I am not certain what to do. I will probably let them try to sell crap to our neighbors – the worst that could happen is that people say “no” and the boys get frustrated and stop trying. Then of course they can hang with all the kids who get shut out. Maybe I will spend that $50 having a pizza party for the kids in their classes who don’t get to participate.

Now that would be sweet, even a worthy endeavor.

Additional Information

Well – it happened again! I shouldn’t be surprised though.  This is what happens when I get my hands on some sort of project – especially ones that belong to other people, namely my kids.

Henry had to enter a poster contest in school in honor of Earth Day. He had weeks to work on it and to plan out his poster. Each day I would remind  him to work on it. He was always too busy or distracted to work on it.

Then Monday morning arrived – the morning of his deadline.  I woke Henry early and had him work on his poster before school. He (or should I say “we”) had 15 minutes to work on it. I hurriedly sketched out a design and he placed the words on the paper. We scribbled colors into the shapes and finished the poster. I thought it was mediocre – at best. I sent him to school with both the poster and these words, “You’d better not win – you don’t deserve to win! If I had not helped, you would not have even have received school credit. You are lucky to not get a zero.”

At the time, I felt that the verbal scolding has some how “taught him a valuable lesson.” Ha! I am the one to learn a terrible lesson. My son now is receiving an award for something which he barely exerted any effort! School is a breeze for Henry, relationships come easy – oh, and now a poster contest! He won a position of five among 635 entrants. This is outrageous.

I am already struggling to reform this little monster – who has quite an amazing ego.  He daily comes home with tales of his victories and great accomplishments.  He sizes up his classmates – and I believe that he fully intends to make a play for the popular “in” crowd. I am aghast!

My inability to allow my eight year old son to suffer consequences of his choices is adding to his enormous ego! To parent or to lead someone is the ability to allow someone to fail and the grace to guide them and encourage them through their suffering. The loving thing is to allow your child to experience discipline and suffering. 

The consequences of my actions and lack of forethought and planning on one cold, dark February morning, now have ramifications on this bright, sunny spring afternoon.

What makes this terrible is that Noah won this same contest – two years earlier. He worked hard on his poster and planned.  I did help him with his lettering, but the work and concept were totally his. Noah actually worked towards his prize. Henry on the other hand did not.

In light of my failure, I am resolved to learn and to act with more wisdom. Today is the time to think, to plan and then to act!

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