10/26/06: Building a New Civilization

Ok, so the title of this blog may seem a bit grandiose, but here's the deal: I just started reading a book last night that a friend sent to me. It is New Life After Divorce by Bill Butterworth. In the foreword to the book, John Ortberg says "If it is true that every divorce is the death of a small civilization, then its aftermath involves creating a new one."

This concept of family is an interesting one. I have heard it said that a family should be a miniature church, but the idea of the family unit as a "small civilization" is probably more accurate, as it encompasses not only the church, but every aspect of the life of the family. While my goal would be to have the "civilization" of my family centered around the church, not every family is like that, obviously. But every family does have the essential elements of a civilization: a group of people coexisting in a shared location, a culture that is accepted to a greater or lesser degree by each member of the civilization, a common set of values and beliefs, and customs (folkways and mores) that are generally accepted and followed most of the time.

Every family is different, but every family has these elements of civilization. Some families, like some civilizations, are stronger than others, while some are weaker. When a significant portion of a society rejects the foundations of that civilization, crisis ensues, and either there will be a realignment of the values of the civilization, or the civilization will fall apart. (This is true of any group that forms a sort of civilization: the family, a church, a business, or a nation.) Essentially, this is what happens when a divorce occurs: there is some crisis where the foundations of the family are rejected by one partner, and the civilization disintegrates when an acceptable realignment of values does not occur. In the absence of a revolution, one spouse makes a declaration of independence by filing for divorce. It is a painful process, and is painful when complete.

The description of divorce as the death of a small civilization seems apt to describe what it feels like, because it isn't just about the personal pain, the loss of a life partner, or being alone; it is the loss of an implied or expected future. For me, civilization seems to include the idea of a foundation that has been laid with a view toward some purpose to fulfill (think "manifest destiny"). A family should be the same. But when divorce occurs, the destiny dies. There will always be a question of what might have been.

Close to two months ago, I went to a storage closet to get out my pet taxi so I could take the cat to my ex-wife. We had already been separated for nearly 4 months and divorced for over 2 months at this time, and I had decided I didn't want the cat anymore, so she agreed to take her. Anyway, in the closet I found a box of letters that we had written to each other over the course of several years before and during our marriage. Why I put myself through this I don't know, but I took the box into my living room and sat for close to 2 hours reading every letter. At times I smiled as I remembered the good times, but most of the time I wept as I mourned what had been lost. In another instance a few weeks later, I had a dream about my divorce from which I actually woke up crying. I don't think I had ever actually cried in my sleep before.

The artifacts of the lost civilization are likely to bring up profound feelings of loss until the death of the civilization is fully accepted. I don't claim to know for certain when this process will be complete. I do, however, see progress in my own situation. I was going through some things yesterday, sorting through belongings and deciding what to keep, what to sell, and what to throw away, when I found a framed wedding invitation that was a wedding present when Crystal and I got married in 1998. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the wave of grief that I expected to come as it had a couple months before when I read those letters. But nothing happened.

I looked at the frame. I looked at the mat with its dried, pressed flowers. I even read over the fancy embossed lettering expecting to feel the return of that familiar, deep-down ache that I'd felt so many times before. But it didn't happen. I simply looked at it, decided that there was no reason to keep it, and put it in the trash. It wasn't an emotional decision. There was no anger, no bitterness; just a realization that this is a part of my life that is now behind me.

So, for me, and for others who find themselves in the category of "suddenly single again", the civilization they were accustomed to being part of is dead. It is probably easier for me than for most since my little civilization didn't include any children. But, the "ruins" of my civilization are still around me, and the question now becomes "how do I clean up the mess and start the process of building a new civilization?".

For me, after several months of reflection, I have decided that part of constructing my new civilization means quitting my job and going back to school for a Master's degree. In the process, I am moving out of the apartment that Crystal and I shared and selling off much of the furniture that we had together. I'll probably keep a few of the nicer artifacts of the dead civilization, but getting rid of the bulk of them, I feel, will help me to bury the past and move toward the future.

So, now I am figuring out where to go from here. I am leaving the ruins of a dead civilization behind me. I know that I have been shaken to the core, but still I stand. I am firmly planted on the foundation that God has placed me on. He will be the initiator in my life, and with His help, I will construct a new civilization with Him at the center. I believe that with His guidance this new civilization will be much stronger than the one I had before.