The Enemy of Union.

She told me, "I'm going through a divorce. A terrible divorce."

And exactly 48 hours later I was still asking myself, "Am I dreaming?" "Did she really just say that to me?" "Am I sure I was talking to her or did I just create this fantasy world in my head?"

So I asked her again.

And she told me again. "We're getting a divorce."

And that was when I began to put thought to the words. I began to think, aloud, all of the things that were going through my head. And I went to my husband and I sunk down in front of him and asked him to remind me why really crappy things happen to really special people.

I didn't take her news so hard because it was HER. Though, if you knew her and loved her like I do, you might have wanted to scream a little (as I did). And it wasn't because I thought she was immune to anything that the rest of us mere mortals must deal with. It wasn't because she hid a breaking heart so enviably. Or because when she cried her mascara never ran...

It was just because the news - "divorce" - is all too common. Its as common as having the flu; only with consequences a mile long. With the flu you are down, but you get up and eventually your body carries on. With a divorce, you are down and it wreaks its havoc on the whole family. Everyone suffers. No one is immune.

And I thought about my own marriage. I thought about how I want to run away sometime just so he'll have to empty the dishwasher. I thought about how if someone held a magnifying glass up to it they might see all sorts of holes filled with putty and rag-tag patches holding seems together. But that at a distance it is quite lovely and certainly fun. Just like yours, probably. Pretty on the outside. Weathered on the in.

Mine is mis-matched but lovely.
It is worn, but fits perfectly.
It might be shabby, but its mine.
Look closely at our seams, you'll see they've been stretched, but never faltered.

So what, then, is the difference in her marriage and mine?
My marriage and yours?
Your marriage and your neighbors?

Not much, really. Both are sought after, day after day, minute after minute, by an enemy intent on our demise. Sometimes its not the dishwashers that need emptying - its the bushes. For Satan lies wait in them, seeking whom he may devour. His goal is only the marriage; kill that, and he gets all that dies with it.

Anyone feel like puttying up some holes, today?

Patching up some tears?

Protecting some valuables?