“If my husband ever. . . “

I can go ahead and admit it was a mistake to stumble down the blackhole of comments left on an article about a man who very publicly betrayed his wife. Turns out everybody on the planet knows exactly what they would do if their husband did that to them. Except that they don’t.

I have gotten pretty tired of the phrase “If my husband ever. . .” This goes equally (or maybe double) for the phrase “If my child ever.” Do you know who says that stuff? People who have never actually experienced facing that situation. So you know how much their opinion should count? Not much.

Here’s the thing– I am the type of person who would typically say such a phrase. I have thought through a thousand worst case scenarios. I have read all the articles and a couple books about what to do and not to do in situation XYZ. Such situations could never possibly happen to me because I know all the right things to do, so I’m happy to tell you exactly how I would handle it if the worst thing happened. And it’s so EASY for me to tell you because I am 100% confident that thing will never happen to me because of how awesomely I will prevent it. (can you sense my sarcasm?)

But here’s the thing– in spite of all the books I’ve read, the prayers I prayed, and my personal awesomeness (again with the sarcasm), I have experienced some pretty dark times. I have had to look full in the face my own ideas about what I would do if a terrible thing happened. And you know what? I didn’t do what I thought I might.

Rebecca Tredway Photography

My first experience with this was our infertility diagnosis. I had wanted to be a mother my entire life (and while I always had a heart for foster care and adoption, I also had a STRONG desire to experience pregnancy). I watched my older sister walk through infertility and I remember thinking “If I can’t get pregnant I will just die.” But you know what, when you’re sitting there in the doctor’s office and he reads off the results of your expensive testing, he doesn’t then say, “So, would you like to proceed with infertility treatments, would you like to pursue adoption, or would you like to just die?” The reality is that my “I will just die” philosophy about how to handle infertility kept me from actually having to have compassion for someone dealing with infertility. I would just die, but YOU have to handle it because you are some other kind of person than me– the kind of person who wouldn’t just die. That way of thinking eliminates any empathy response.

A year or two after our initial diagnosis I was sharing about the difficulties of infertility with a friend. This friend told me if her husband couldn’t get her pregnant, she’d probably have an affair so she could have a baby. This is, of course, crazy talk. I think I was dumbfounded enough that someone would say that to me that I didn’t bother arguing about it, but the reality is that while maybe in the back of your mind you do confront that idea, infertility is a two person battle. What would I have gained to have a biological child and loose the trust in my marriage? I would likely be miserable and also a parent, which is not a great combination. I realized that what she was saying wasn’t that I should have an affair, she was actually saying that she didn’t want to fully identify with my problem. If it were her problem, she’d just fix it so no need to actually process how hard this would be.

God has humbled me a thousand different ways when it comes to my ideas of “If my husband ever”, “If my child ever”, “If my in-laws ever”, “If my friend ever”, “If my sibling ever” and on and on it goes. I am a person who loves boundaries and rule following, so it would be easy for me to tell you exactly what I would do in each situation, but I have learned over and over again that facing those situations is never the same in reality as it is your in mind.

It is easy to say what you would do if you ever had a child tell you they hated you, but then you see this boy in front of you and you know what he actually hates is himself or the past that makes it SO hard for him to trust or the mother who hurt him before you ever stepped into the picture. It is easy to say what you would do if your child refused to do his homework or wouldn’t sit still in church or got his girlfriend pregnant or had an ADHD diagnosis or whatever it is, but when you face that reality God gives you grace and wisdom and strength you didn’t account for when you predetermined how you’d behave. (*And PLEASE be especially thoughtful when hearing the struggles of parents of foster or adopted kids. Their battles are unique and the typical “wisdom” can actually be hurtful to their ability to address underlying needs.*)

So can we all just agree to stop doing this to each other? If someone comes to you with pain or a struggle and you tell them how you’d perfectly handle that situation, you are likely not being helpful. You are communicating that to do anything differently than what you’ve just suggested would be foolish, even though you have never actually experienced this situation. Talking this way to a struggling person is to identify yourself as unsafe– I have judged the situation, I have determined an acceptable course of action, and I can’t be bothered to enter into the pain of living in the gray areas with you.

The people who have been the most helpful for me in my hard times have been those who responded in one of two ways:

“I don’t know what I’d do in your position. Tell me what you’re thinking about it.” 

or

“I remember when I went through that, and it was so painful. Do you want me to share with you what I found helpful?”

It’s not that we can’t offer wisdom to each other, but let’s just stop acting like we know what we’d do when the reality is that we don’t. You may actually possess the strength to forgive things you never thought you could forgive. When the need arrises, you might be tough enough to establish boundaries or consequences that you’d never dream of doing right now. You might have wisdom to handle things that seem impossible today. There might be a community that steps up to give you wise counsel when you need it most and it keeps you from jumping ship or burning bridges.

If you’ve walked the lonely road of dealing with the situations others are sure could never happen to them, then yes PLEASE share your wisdom when you see others struggling. Do it in love and with an understanding that the path you found may not be the path that works for everybody. You may be the one to offer a lifeline to somebody who has only heard voices of discouragement and invalidation.

I have learned that in the days I feel most confused, most frustrated, most hurt, that is rarely the time for decisive decision making. It is often the time to stop, take a breath, and process what is going on. We can be a community that supports people in the hardest of times by encouraging them to embrace the uncertainty for a moment. We don’t have to have the answers and sometimes the most validating thing we can do is admit that. Yes we can help problem solve, share good resources, offer our own hard-earned life experience, but let’s have our first response be one of validation of the struggle instead of certainty of our own ability to respond correctly.