Nest Renovation

It was 80 years ago today that my grandparents married. It was April 9, 1939 and Australia was still a few months away from World War 2. These were the days when a woman’s marriage meant her giving up her job for another person who was single as she would now be fully occupied within the home. In those days, a couple could afford to pay off a mortgage on one wage, but not without some pretty heavy budgeting. I often heard stories of my grandparents having timber boxes for table and chairs and being more than thankful for any second hand furniture that came their way. Heating came from a fireplace, cooling from the double brick insulation of their two bedroom California bungalow. Apart from your mortgage, you didn’t buy something unless you had the money for it, ‘hire purchase’ was a no-no and credit cards were many years into the future.

And marriage was for life.

Into this mix came my mother in 1944, on the cusp of the baby boomer generation. Babies born into this time did their growing up in the 1950s and ‘60s, and the ‘60s were a time of enormous change in Australia. My mother was 19 when I came along in 1964, and my dad just 20, and sadly their marriage didn’t last past my fifth birthday. For many years I was the only kid in my infants and primary school with divorced parents, though this gradually changed as I went into high school. It’s hard to imagine now, isn’t it? Couples who don’t stay together have become more of the ‘norm’ in today’s society than those who do.

My mother is about sixteen here I think, so I came along about three years later. 

No judgement from me, though. How can I? I didn’t manage to get it right the first time around either, with the spectre of divorce coming just three years after I first married. Divorce is not something I would wish on my worst enemy but I am thankful there were no children involved. Life took an upward turn when I met and married my second husband, and he’s still my best friend 26 years and two children later.

So why am I reflecting on all of that?

Apart from my natural penchant for nostalgia, I’m struck with how different marriage was considered from when my grandparents said ‘I do’ compared to when I got married. When I was a child growing up in my grandparent’s home, it was clear to me that my grandfather was my grandmother’s number one priority, and she, his. By the time I married and was having children and mixing with other young families, it became apparent that this approach was considered unusual. “Didn’t that make you feel left out?” I was asked. "Second best?" I can honestly say I never, ever felt that way. For me as a child coming out of a turbulent family environment and landing in my grandparents home, it was like feeling safe at last. I needed security – I think children do. The love my grandparents demonstrated for each other underlined for me that fact that they weren’t going anywhere. They were tight, so I was safe. Our family unit was strong, despite being dysfunctional as I wasn't living with either of my parents. 

Between my growing up in the seventies and eighties, and having my own children in the nineties, parenting had become increasingly child centered, with mothers carrying a fair whack of guilt if they didn’t put their kids first whilst at the same time being expected to invest richly in their marriage relationship. Superwoman was alive and well, the special guest doing the rounds of the talk shows, magazines and other manifestations of popular culture. If you didn't aspire to embrace her, you were out of step with the world. Out of step, and exhausted.

As time went on and I became a mother myself, there rose this pressure to change my focus from my husband first, to my children. It wasn’t necessarily an overt thing as in one has to now be the priority over the other; it was more that children just had to be a mother’s everything, full stop. 

There’s a subtle difference. 

As my children grew, it was as if we weren’t doing the right thing by them if they weren’t involved in 101 after-school and weekend activities, whether they be sporting, musical or whatever. It was a stark contrast to my own childhood where I did a few things but generally one at a time, and certainly not a different activity every day of the week - I remember I had time to chill after school. As a mother, family life became packed full of running from pillar to post. I’m not sure that was always the best thing, but as a mum you don’t want your kids to miss out, do you? Comparison is such a trap. It’s like the peer pressure of the teens years slyly stalking you into adulting and parenthood.

My husband and I became Christians when our kids were four and eighteen months old, so we tried as best we could to give them an upbringing where they would see us place importance on God as head of our family. That was not without its challenges. I am my husband’s one and only wife but I carried the baggage of a divorce into the marriage with me. From a Biblical perspective there are many scriptures of the ‘woe betide’ nature which only seem to underline that God hates divorce – so did that mean He hated me too, or at best loved me, but wouldn’t forget what I’d done? I didn’t seem to find any comfort amongst church communities as the old refrain seemed in regular use – “God hates divorce”. However, I am relieved to say that God spoke to me very clearly about this. 

It was 2004 and I remember it as if it were yesterday. We were in the UK at the time and I had been asking the same questions yet again about divorce, hoping to receive a different answer from those with a lengthier and more knowledgeable faith than mine. Yet the words I needed finally came from God himself – as I stepped out of the doorway and into the sunshine, I heard words quoted from Romans 8:1:

“there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus”.

The words weren’t audible to anyone else except me, an example of the Holy Spirit giving to me the answer I needed to my questioning. I am enormously thankful for those words and the freedom they provided to me, and I’ve had no question about the impact of my divorce on how God sees me ever since. That is the power of God’s word.

My husband and I have made each other laugh, driven each other mad, argued over lots and loved each other faithfully in equal measures over our marriage. It’s never been boring. The only parenting experience either of us had had, was that of our own parents or grandparents, and we added our own numerous mistakes for good measure. It was a tough season and we often disagreed with each other on how to do it – and our kids probably disagreed with us most of the time! Yet we love them dearly and are proud of the way they are making their way on their own journeys through life, whilst we watch on and reconnect again as a couple - older (can't fight it), wiser (I hope), fatter (though that's on its way out) and happier. It’s called empty nesting, though that seems to have more of a negative connotation – so I’m going to call it nest renovation. Renovation builds on the old and brings in the new – with a bit of recycling or upcycling along the way. God is still there, providing us with the firm foundations. We’re still there, still growing and learning and adapting and adventuring together. The kids are still there, flying in and out when the seasons allow. Our parents, that wartime generation have all been touched by divorce but are still around to support us and experience the changing seasons of life. Today though, is my day to be especially thankful for my grandparents who shared their nest with me and taught me so much about it. I don’t imagine raising a child was part of their retirement plans but that’s why I’m so grateful they chose to renovate their nest so I could land. The safety they gave me and the example they set of a loving and secure nest are still so gratefully received this 80th anniversary of the day they said “I do”.  

Song for this occasion: I couldn't go past my grandfather's favourite, Some Enchanted Evening from the 1958 Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, South Pacific. The song begins at the 4:35 mark but I love the clip as a whole. My grandfather was never an outwardly demonstrative man, but occasionally he'd break out into this song to my grandmother. He may not have been able to say the words himself, but it's a wise man who lets such lyrics do the talking.