Broken Home

At Mass this past Sunday we heard someone share about a good deed done for some children who came from "broken homes". While the remainder of the message about sharing and doing good to others without expecting to receive thanks in return may have had its merits, I was personally distracted by the expression "broken home". I leaned over to my beautiful grown daughter and whispered, "That's probably not a good term to use in church." She replied, "But what other term is there?" I said, "By his reckoning, you are from a broken home." Hmm. I'm not sure she had thought of it that way. I suggested, "Divorced, impoverished, underprivileged?" How about just describing the particular needs of the ones being helped? To me, the term was the equivalent of the 1950s term "crippled". Let's not condemn people to being broken forever.

While it's true, my beautiful children had the misfortune to be born to a father and mother who became divorced, I hardly thought of our family as broken. But it seems many others did, and perhaps still do. I will likely go to my grave defending the choices I've made as a well intentioned but imperfect mother. It's a difficult job and it seems despite my resolve, I was less than terrific. But it was not made easier by those who saw us as broken. We had different challenges, to be sure. But I never thought of my children as from a broken home. Their dad and I still loved them, still cared for them. My children still had many benefits, including a safe environment to live, opportunities for education, and extended family that cared about them. We celebrated birthdays and holidays, sang and read books in our home. There was heat in the winter and chances to cool off in the summer. We had winter coats and mittens and beds to sleep in. There were friends and events we shared with others. There was laughter and there were tears. There were vacations. There was love in our home.

So what do we mean when we say a home is broken?

Sometimes divorce is not the breaking of something. Sometimes it is the fixing of something. I would never call it an easy fix. Never, ever. But please, isn't there another term you could use that wouldn't label so many people as broken? Some term that wouldn't sting us again and again. Really.

Refrigerator Door

The photo above of my refrigerator was taken on February 12, 2006. My children were all born in the 1980s, so even in 2006 you can see that these pictures were a bit outdated. In fact, at the time, my kids were all out of high school. But a mother's heart can be slow to let go of the early years when her children hung close and she could open their minds and hearts to the world around them and still bask in their affection! Those years were good years for us. Life was simple. Tasks were clear. I thought I had it all figured out, and everything would be just fine if I did my part.

Somewhere along the way, our perspectives grew and our insights grew with them. Life seemed more complex and the answers not always so simple.

Now, I look back on these years and think, life is actually quite simple indeed. Love those you're given and never stop loving them. Everything else is gravy. Everything, everything is grace.

How They Grow

Oh, how I miss these sweet little people.