A lifelong friend of mine has a daughter who went through a messy divorce.
Truth be told, it had been a messy marriage. The dissolution finished off what were many years of anything but happily ever after.
My friend tried for years to look the other way and be supportive even after she learned her son-in-law cheated numerous times, made poor financial decisions, faced legal challenges that resulted in criminal charges, surrounded himself with questionable business associates, and still managed to be seen as the golden boy—by his family, colleagues, golf buddies and church family.
Her daughter struggled, raising the children alone while their dad lived the jet-setter life because of his vast financial connections. Many at church put him on a pedestal, partly because he made a show of his tithing on social media posts.
My friend’s daughter shrank from view. Until she filed for divorce.
That’s when the deacons and elders showed up in force. Their counseling tone was not one of thoughts and prayers but of condemnation and judgment.
How dare she leave him? Didn’t she know that he was the best thing that had ever happened to her? Yes, he was flawed, but he had good intentions.
Her husband lied, telling people she had failed as a mother and a wife. However, it was common knowledge she had helped him through college, working two jobs. She had toiled alongside him to build his empire. Teachers and friends witnessed her devotion to her children and to him.
A lawyer who had once worked with her husband on a project chose to represent her, presenting damaging evidence with philandering facts and financial misdeeds of the husband during the marriage. The judge, who did not recuse himself despite connections to the case, was dismissive of the incriminating data—the settlement favored her husband. (The lawyer who represented my friend’s daughter was fired from his firm as retribution for “being a loser.”) Remarried now, my friend’s ex-son-inlaw continues to mock his ex-wife as weak, as inefficient, and as a joke. She is quietly going about the business of raising their children. Deflated but not defeated, she reads to them, encourages their unique interests, and teaches them about compassion while working to get by with less. And whether she realizes it or not, she is teaching them resiliency. She’s not quitting them.
My friend understands that her daughter is not perfect, but she aches for who this grown child of hers once was: a smart, respected, and confident woman before falling for the wrong guy.
Is it too late for my friend’s daughter to move past this chapter of her life? Will the damage to her spirit be irrevocable?
Asking for…..my country.
Snyder, Texas, native Sue Jane Sullivan is a retired schoolteacher whose thought-provoking commentary appears occasionally in several West Texas newspapers, including The Texas Spur and The Caprock Courier.
