Dear God, I never intended to be at war.
I never wanted my home to be a bunker.
My office—a situation room, my phone—command control,
the police—my foot soldiers, my attorney—my commander-in-chief.
I never foresaw how divided this house could be.
I was naïve, I guess.
I expected to get this divorce in a civilized way.
I thought we could talk about our needs, state our concerns, make fair decisions.
I was sure we could determine what’s best for our child and choose that.
It was never in my mind to create an enemy.
It was never in my mind to go to war.
I just wanted to get a divorce.
To acknowledge the obvious: this marriage is over, long over.
I just wanted to move on with my life.
And free him to move on with his.
And protect our son in the process.
Pretty simple, I thought.
I don’t love him. He doesn’t love me. We split up.
That’s easy.
We have two pieces of property. He takes his. I take mine.
That’s easy.
We have plenty of stuff. We divide it.
That’s easy.
We have enough cars. I keep my old beauty. He takes his truck and car.
I won’t even ask him to sell the Harley. Keep it! Keep the boats too!
See, that’s easy.
We each have a business. He takes his. I keep mine.
That’s fair. That’s easy.
I have some savings. He has some savings. We leave each other’s money alone. So easy.
We both love our son. He’ll live with me and see his Dad 14 times a month, much more than typical visitation. Easy.
We can do this.We can be the one family who does it right.
Who’s decent. Civil. Polite. Kind.
Who makes decisions based on what’s best for the child.
The one couple who doesn’t descend to ugliness.
The one couple who doesn’t lie, cheat or fight over petty details.
The one couple who shows up at graduation, both smiling, both loving the son.
In my wildest imagination, I couldn’t foresee him turning into my enemy.
True, I didn’t love him anymore.
But, I didn’t hate him either. Not then.
But I do now.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war.
Now he is my deepest darkest enemy.
He wants to do me harm.
He is hurting our child.
He is trying to take my home.
He is trying to destroy me.
He plans surprise attacks.
He lays out his weapons.
He chooses war.
War over furniture
War over visitation
War over our son’s heart
War over his clothes
War over little league
War over the piano
War over birthday presents
War over where our son goes to church
War over where he goes to school
War over summer camp
War over vacation
War over money
War over dishes
War over toasters
War over nothing
But war nonetheless.
Dear God, I am at war. Please help me.
You seem to be quite the expert at it.
You were fabulous in Exodus against the Egyptians.
And you and David were pretty amazing against the Philistines.
You do a great job of scaring the shit out of the enemies of your people.
Well, listen up, God. I am your people, too!
And I have an enemy!
A big scary enemy who waits for just the right moment to pounce,
who dresses in camouflage so people won’t think he’s so bad,
who intercepts my mail, blocks my phone, destroys birthdays, blows up recitals.
Give me a little advice here, God.
I never wanted an enemy. But I have one.
What do I do about my enemy?
How do I defeat him?
How do I get him to lay down his arms?
Lay down mine?
Stop fighting?
Love my enemy?
Please, dear God, anything but that.
I want to kill him.
I want to demolish him.
I want to stomp on his hateful heart.
Silence his vicious mouth.
Squash his evil brain.
Ooooh, God, OK this is too violent.
I’ll tone it down.
But, God, if I can’t destroy him, what do I do about my enemy?
How do I defeat him?
How do I get him to lay down his arms?
Lay down mine?
Stop fighting?
Love my enemy?
Please, dear God, anything but that.
Anything but that.
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