Not the "Normal" Blended Family

I'm grateful "normal" is a flexible word. My family falls into the category of "normal-for-us." We're not like a Norman Rockwell painting but more akin to a Picasso painting beautiful but twisted.

Most families blend from divorce, death and remarriage. Our blend is much different.

As my husband and I struggled through marital strife punctuated by dysfunction and gallons of alcohol, we drifted away from God. Instead of a harsh or amicable divorce, we fought a bitter trial a decade into our marriage stemming from an affair in which my husband fathered a child.

Following his affair and the birth of Morgan, his daughter, we were denied access to her because her mother was engaged and two daddies seemed confusing. We had the grueling task telling our children, family and friends about the new baby. Five years later, we began regular visitations with Morgan but as we discussed the possibility of custody changes, Morgan's mother panicked and we spent an entire summer without contact with my soon-to-be daughter.

Finally, Morgan moved into our home permanently. Papers were signed, transactions completed, and then month by month her biological mom simply slipped away.

To say Morgan's first home was different than ours is an understatement. Homemade tacos were foreign to our little girl who lived on fast food kid meals. How was she supposed to eat something that wasn't wrapped in crackly paper? Unlimited cable television and constant drama were contrasted by our usually silent 19" television set. Comments erupted about our "Amish" lifestyle. Morgan's section of the bedroom always resembled disaster news footage. When questioned, she said she felt safer in a mess.

Morgan entered our mother-daughter relationship with trepidation. Since then it's been all over the map. One day she has an obsessive need for attention from me, other days she wants to engage me in World War III, and still other days, we blend smoothly.

Our middle daughter, Elizabeth, freely shared her room, her heart and her belongings with her younger half-sister. Sometimes her things were crushed, broken, or stomped. Often, each girl grabbed an arm and literally fought over my attention. Our oldest son spent years hating his father for the pain he inflicted on all of us.

Many hours, nights, days, and seasons, we've managed to muster just enough energy to survive and pray.

Eventually, Morgan's one minute attention span eased and she has learned to seek peace. The fears and the chaos of her previous life have marked her, but she carries our marks, too. She's blossomed into a beautiful young woman and each new season in her life brings more maturity, healing, and deeper relationships.

What I've learned through this struggle is that choosing to accept the blend is the first step in becoming a family. I knew the price wholeness and healing would take but I was desperate, so I chose to allow God forge us into family.

  • For starters, I had to stop feeling like a victim. For years, I demanded that my husband seamlessly repair the damage an impossible task for anyone. My bad attitude ate away like cancer at my marriage, and my own heart. A hideous argument led me to beg God to fix things. He chose to fix me first. By learning that God's way is the only way worth living, I was able to overcome the swirling chaos of my expectations and emptiness.
  • Honesty has been the second most important part of this process. As awful and terrifying as it is to bring up what lurks beneath our polite dinner table conversation, talking about those things takes away their power. We've been honest about the affair with all of our children. No questions are off limits, though we've been careful to avoid harmful details. I accepted blame for my part in my marriage gone ugly and have asked my children to forgive me.
  • Discussions about the pain and how the affair and alcoholism nearly capsized our family are common. One night, Morgan and I wept together when she realized that her father cheated on me, and how painful it must have been. Honesty is a healing balm, and tears cleanse impurities. We've shared the beauty of God's forgiveness and His love. We've even prayed for the missing biological mom's salvation and safety. We care about her I care because Morgan loves her. This wasn't possible at first. One night, while I entertained my thoughts self-pity and fed my victimization, God reminded me that He loved Morgan's mom, too. Wooden prayers of obedience have turned into the kind that come from deep within and sometimes bring tears.
  • Laughter is a close third step. It's hard to hate and hurt one another when we laugh together. Whether it's finding and using great one-liners from movies, developing a hobby, or simply looking for the strange and quirky, laughter has saved us many times.

Peace is the final key. We discovered this calmness by waiting and watching for opportunities to apologize, by looking out for one another, praying together, going to church together, discussing who Christ is and what He's done for us. Even keeping background noise at a minimum to encourage quiet conversation was a valuable tool.

God has been the glue that has held us my twenty-five year marriage and three children together. We are grateful to be together and holding onto each other while we're held in God's hands.

Oh yes, my life is nothing that I expected it would be but it's so much better than I dreamed.

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