The silence resumes.

I wish I wasn't writing this.  I contemplated not writing this.  But, I felt like not writing it was harder than writing it now.

I gave it a month, even though, I was pretty sure, one month ago today, almost exactly to the minute, I felt I knew what was coming.  I prayed against what felt like the inevitable at this point, but I prayed knowing that prayer does work, not always, but sometimes.  I know it worked once in this situation.  I guess, in my heart of hearts, I know God is a God of miracles, and prayer could bring radical change again.  Yet, at the same time, I'm being practical, and releasing my breath and realizing that for now, this is reality.

You see, for some reason that I fail to understand, one month ago tonight, my children's father disappeared from them, again.  He came back to them on December 26, 2017.  He walked out on them again, almost six months later, to the date.

I wasn't in town, but he had plans to see them with someone I trust dearly.  Up until a few hours beforehand, he was still planning on seeing them.  And then.. he just didn't show.  I reached out to him to find out if he was okay (the bitterness inside me, truthfully, swelled up and I asked him if he was dead), or what had happened.  A few days later, feeling it was the case, I asked if this meant he was done and walking on out again.  No reply to either.  I tried two more times, the most recently, last night.  I pointed out that today marks a month.  There is still dead silence.

I know he is out there.  I know he's active online, and while I can't be certain his phone works or he hasn't changed his number, I know he knows my name, and my phone number hasn't changed in years.

There's silence.

He's abandoned them again.

I find myself quite emotional this week.  I have known all along this was a distinct possibility, but I threw it all in and allowed him back in the children's lives, with the mentality that no matter what happened, whether he was here for good or gone again, we would get through it.  We already walked through hell in regard to this, and we made it through, because of God and his blessings of support.  I knew it would be "easier" this time, as "easy" as something like this could be for four hearts that aren't jaded and cold.   

But that doesn't seem to make it better.  

I'm currently at a point of both thankfulness and despair, pride and humiliation, hope and hopeless.  The part of me that has Christ dwelling inside has a positive spin on it, but my more practical, emotional, momma bear side is angry and negative.  It's a battle.  Yes, I'm going through a battle.  

But, I'm a warrior. I have to remind myself of that even though I feel like laying in my bed and throwing a toddler inspired tantrum.

As I said, I knew it could all fall apart.  But, truthfully, I thought it would be either right away, or years down the road.  

I didn't think he would get bored with his children this soon.

Is he bored with them?  I don't know.

I wish I could understand how someone I "knew" so well for so many years could be this way.  I wish I understood what, in a matter of hours, changed his entire plan.  I wish I could decide if he was incapable of making good decisions, or just chooses not to. I wish there wasn't silence.  The silence, again, makes it even worse.

People have started noticing and asking me about his involvement in their lives and our lack of discussion on the matter.  I am hoping that these questions continue to be directed solely to me, not in the presence of my children.

My children, heaven bless them, are starting to notice his absence.  I don't know if they noticed or felt it right away, because they've been very normal, happy, and truthfully haven't asked about him or mentioned him until this week.  Actually, so far, our three-year-old daughter is the only one who has.  But, I feel it's coming with the birthdays and milestones up ahead.  I am at a crux, wondering if I should confront the issue head on and prepare them, or wait and see when they're ready to talk about it.  I don't really want to assault them with the realization if they haven't come to it on their own yet.  

Also, this probably goes without saying, but... please do not speak ill or negatively of their father in their presence at any time.  Whatever their opinions are to be of him, those need to be formed by their own minds, through their own experiences.

I am so torn, right now, emotionally and faithfully. I want to find comfort, knowing that God will get us through, provide, restore and heal our hearts, minds, and souls.  But I'm a bit angry.  I'm not angry at God, because I know their father has free will, and is choosing his own path away from his children and away from God.  I know this.  I know in my heart that I did do the right thing letting him back into their lives, even though it hurts to be where we are now. I know God wanted me to forgive him.  I know God wanted my children to know their father again, for our daughter to create happy memories with him, because up until now, she had no recollection of her own and relied solely on her brothers or word of mouth from other people who knew her dad.  I know God wanted to show my oldest son that He does in fact listen and answer prayers.  I truly believe that his reappearance in our lives last year was God ordained, and for good and not harm.

I try not to blame myself for the fallout.  In the past, I've been so good at taking the blame, from their father, for things like this.  I KNOW I didn't cause the heartbreak that's to come by allowing them the opportunity to have their dad for a while.  I KNOW that is on their father.  But that's something I have to remind myself every time he crosses my mind, because I also know the enemy wants me to take it all back on myself.  I did open the door, but I did not cause him to walk back out.

I know that my children will know I tried.

But it doesn't mean this doesn't hurt.  It hurts my heart for my kids. 

It hurts so much. It feels like I'm being crushed again, admitting this all "aloud."

I pray that my children's minds and hearts will be protected from severe trauma if their dad really is gone for good this time.  I pray that they'll still believe in God, in his miracles, in the power of prayer and that this does not negatively affect their faith and relationship with Jesus.  I pray they'll still feel overwhelming love and know that they're surrounded by it even if their dad walked out on them again.  I pray that someday, God will truly, wholly restore their father.  I pray that I will be able to forgive him again.   

If you pray, please do.

I found myself, tonight, as I sifted through my thoughts, trying to find scripture to calm my heart.  This is the one that spoke to me the most.  I'm trying to just do what I am often (but not always) able to do, and find peace and solace in my Father's words and promises.

But, I'm not perfect, and it's hard.

I know we will be okay.  And I know I need to give it all to God.  But, I think I also know that my imperfect, human side may still need to cry about it, talk about it, and maybe need a hug or a shoulder at some point. Maybe.  Or maybe not.  Guess we will see.  But, I think that's okay, too.

Just Mom on Father's Day

Here it is.  Father's Day.

Today, I've already been wished a Happy Father's Day and a Happy Second Mom's Day, more than once,

In some ways, it's been a very typical Sunday. I woke up this morning singing "Good Good Father" in my head, at 5:45 when Norah decided we should get up and get ready for 8:30 church, bathed the two-year-old princess, fed the kids, watched Norah tattoo herself so she can look like me, gone to church, came home, and fed the kids lunch,.

But in other ways, today feels like agony.  I sat through church and heard, as I have many times before, the various ways that children can be screwed up by not having a dad in their lives.   From home life, to church life, to school life, to social life... there's numerous, detailed effects that have been studied and documented linking the lack of a father in children's lives to problems later on.  I get it.  I have heard it all before.  And each time, I always break down in tears.

That's not the only thing that I got from the message at church, mind you.  But it's always a lingering reminder that just a mom just isn't good enough by worldly standards.

I'm mom. It's just me.  I'm not dad.

Yes, I have the responsibility of both parents.  I provide the income and stability that way, and the emotional and educational development.  I love with a momma's heart and discipline with a father's hand.  I do both sides for the most part and I do them the majority of moment I am with them  every day.

But, I'm not their dad.  I'm not a father.

God calls on me to show them a mother's love and to show them His love through the heart of a mother.  He calls on father's to show them the father's love and discipline, and I do that too.  But I am not their dad.  I am not a father.

They have one.  He's somewhere out there.  He's not showing them the Father's love, though, or a father's love.  He's not fulfilling that role God called of him, so I have to make up the best I can.

But I am not their dad. I am not a father.  I never will be. I can't be.

For much of the last year, I've been trying to pull double duty. I've been told I'm an awesome mom and an equally awesome dad.

But I'm not.  I'm just a mom.  I'm just filling in father type roles when I can and am capable.

I don't have to be a dad.  I don't have to be a father.  As much as I want them to have one, it's not going to be me.  It doesn't have to be me.

I'm finally becoming more okay with that.

Someone messaged me a week or two ago, telling me something very similar.  Her exact words were, "Sometimes it feels like you are trying to be two people. In some respects, you have to be both mom and dad, but you are physically one person, and you need to allow yourself to live within that limitation. Some days, you just need to put one foot in front of the other, and call it a successful day. You don't have to make up for their father's absence, and some days, as long as your children's basic needs are met, you have had a successful day."

Since I first read her message, I have been dwelling on it. I've been letting it sink in and been trying to wrap myself around the truth that is in the sentences.

I've been trying so hard to make up for the loss of their dad. I've been trying so hard to be both a mother and a father.  But it's not what I'm called to do.  I'm called to be their mother, and to raise them in a home filled with Christ-like love and examples.  I'm called to surround them with others who live in the same way, and let the influences of those people also shape my children and show them the love of fathers and of the Father.  I just have to be the best mom I can be.

So yes, it's Father's Day, and it's my second Mom's Day of the year, and I will, in some respect, celebrate that I am pulling double duty in many respects, and that it's just them and me, and that we are living in a love-filled, happy household. We will smile, laugh, cuddle, and play.  We will relish the joy that flows among the four of us as we continue to move forward and shape our lives together.  I will cry for myself and my children and my former husband.  I know it. I already have cried more than once.  But, despite the aching hearts and the longing tears, we will continue to pray for their real dad, that his wandering days end and that God can transform him miraculously, so that someday, his heart will be turned back toward his children.  We will acknowledge that dad is still lost in this world and we may or may not see him again some day, but we will also acknowledge that mom is here, she loves them boundlessly, and that there are other fatherly men in their lives who show them a Father's love through the heart of a father.

Here it comes...

Father's Day is coming up so quickly. 

This year, it's going to be different than ever before. Last year, they didn't see their dad either, but they still sort of knew he was around and in their lives... 

It's been an emotional week, not only for me, but for my sons as well. While Collin, who is three, doesn't express himself as well as Spencer, I am lead to believe that he is dealing with some emotional turmoil and confusion as well.

Spencer, who is 5.5 now, is able to vocalize himself better, and is quite intelligent, and able to really pinpoint his emotions quite well.  All of the talk on TV, radio, day care, Sunday School, and among his peers about Father's Day seems to be stressing him out quite a bit.  He asked me tonight why he doesn't have a dad anymore. I told him he has one, but that his dad is still making poor choices and I do not know how to reach him.  We talked about God also being our father. While he is very smart and has great faith already, that concept is hard for him to grasp, I know. We said extra prayers for his dad tonight at bedtime.

At work (daycare) this week, a lot of time was spent working on Father's Day crafts and art all around the center. I took the lead on creating the gift from the children I work with, and helped out with the gift in the baby room. Each one brought joy for those children and parents, but also pain for my own children.

I have, admittedly, had some selfish "why me and my kids?" moments, moments where I personally felt betrayed and abandoned. But for the most part, each time something revolving around Father's Day was mentioned or done, I felt such loss for my children.

My two-year-old daughter who doesn't really understand what a daddy is, my three-year-old son who vaguely remembers having a dad, and my five-year-old son who misses his dad so much that he seems to be on his mind constantly...

I try to talk them through it. We talk about how Father's Day is for dads, but also for grandpas and uncles and men in our lives who love them. Each of my children made their art for Papa Web this year instead of me, hoping that helps them associate the day with the love of other family and close friends instead of the dad who up and walked out on them.

But my momma heart aches. It aches to know the right way to approach the tough questions, for the perfect answers, for the way to show them how fiercely I love them and others love them despite what they're missing.

I can only relate to my children somewhat. I can relate in that their dad up and left me too, left this gaping whole in my heart and life, left me wondering if he thinks of them or if they'll ever see him again on this side of eternity.

But I have my dad in my own life still. Fortunately, my children have my dad in their lives still.  I could have lost my dad this year, but by the grace of God, he survived a stroke and has been on the mend. I have a dad I can call, text, visit, hug. I have a dad who lets me cry on his couch and tells me he loves me. 

And that makes my heart hurt for my kids even more somehow.  Because I have had a dad for 32 years, and Spencer had his dad for 4, Collin had him for 2, and Norah had him for 1... And he wasn't fully there for most of that anyway.

I know as years go by it will get easier and tougher; easier for them to understand a Father's love through God, through extended family, and through friends. They will see and better that you don't NEED your biological dad to have fatherly love and influence. It will get tougher as the questions become more intense and the quest for understanding grows deeper.

If you pray, and are willing, please spare a prayer for my children this weekend. I know I am praying that they see joy, feel love, and have peace, especially Spencer, as they likely hear about Father's Day at church on Sunday. I pray the good memories and love outweigh the ache in their little hearts, and they are able to carry on and grow stronger as they see the day through.