We would’ve been married for 18 years this past Sunday.

I can’t remember the last time I did the math or thought about how long it’s been since I married Tony. We’ve been divorced longer than we were married.

I’ve been happily remarried for the last eight years.

No bride or groom walks down the aisle thinking they’ll end up in the greater-than-50%-of-us who get divorced.

(well…maybe some odd celebrity getting hitched as a publicity stunt does, but that’s not you)

I used to carry a great deal of shame about the divorce.

We live in the heart of the Midwest.  Divorce around here comes with a stigma.

I didn’t like being the mom at the bus stop who had to explain why her kiddo only caught the bus on Mondays/Tuesdays or explain why I didn’t have my kid on Christmas morning.

It’s taken a while for me to feel comfortable explaining to people how my family works because we aren’t the “norm”.

(as though there is such a thing)

We walked away from the marriage, not from each other.

You see, Tony and I don’t fight or speak ill of one another.  As Carmen’s parents, we talk and routinely check in with each other.  We’re comfortable in a room together.

We share the kids… all of them…his and ours.

Tony and his wife Jen have two kids of their own, Colin and Katie, who come over to my house to play, spend the night,  and go to places like Connor Prairie.   Katie even came with us on our family vacation this year.

If you had told me 18 years ago, that I’d wake up on my “anniversary” with three kids snuggled deep in one bed (one ours, and two his) in the home I share with my new husband, I would’ve called you a liar. 

But it’s true and it’s beautiful.

I’m sharing this now because things often don’t work out at our job or personal lives as we’d hoped and we can choose to look at that as good or bad. 

I choose good. 

Three beautiful kids who make jokes and giggle around the table.  Snuggles before bed and snarfing big sugary bowls of cereal in the morning.

These two wouldn’t be here if things had worked out with Tony and me.

Sunday, I got to see the product of what happens when a group of people commits to each through one of life’s most traumatic experiences. 

Be willing to give.

Be willing to accept.

It’s pretty simple and leads to beautiful, not perfect results.

Who do you need to commit to vs walk away from today?

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