Sucker Punch.

It's like being punched in the gut, and it literally makes me sick to my stomach.

My son has reached the point where he is able to articulate all that the days spent with his father entail, and pretty much every activity seems to entail "her." Of course, I've known my kids share most of their "daddy time" with her all along, but there's something about hearing my three-year-old say it that creates a whirlwind of emotions within my heart and soul.

And if I'm honest, the number one emotion is jealousy, with fear following as a close second. It seems ridiculous to type that out, and almost stupid to say it, but it's true. She's spending quality time with my kids, and it makes me sick. She has an opportunity to give her uninterrupted, undivided attention to my children...and the fact that her partnership with my ex-husband creates two adults for every activity my children encounter only ensures more adult interaction for my two sweet babies. Please don't misunderstand; I'm thankful that my children are getting lots of love and attention. I'm even thankful they're getting lots of love and attention from lots of different people. I only wish I could give them more of it myself.

My son talked today about going to the playground. He shared how while he and his Daddy played on the slides, my daughter spent time in the swing with "her." I know that's a good thing, but it's tough to imagine, and it just makes me sad that most of the time, I'm unable to give my kids attention like that simply because I don't have a partner to share the load.

Images swirl across my brain with every detail my child voluntarily shares: the four of them walking through Wal-Mart on a shopping trip, unloading a car at the playground, walking into a restaurant for dinner. Looking like a family. THOSE ARE MY CHILDREN! I just want to scream it as loud as I can. THEY DO NOT BELONG TO HER! SHE IS NOT THEIR MOTHER!

Seriously, what is with me?

I'm afraid they'll like her better than me. I'm afraid they'll tell her things they won't tell me. I'm afraid they'll wish they spent more time with her and their father and less with me. I'm afraid they'll have more fun and do more exciting things with the two of them, and I'm afraid I'll end up being the "uncool" Mom.

And you know what? I'm smart enough to know that all those things will probably happen at some point. They would happen whether I was still married to their father or not. But I'm also smart enough to know that my kids will always see me as their mother, and that there won't be anyone in the world able to replace that role in their lives.

I also get the fact that "mother" is as much of an honor and responsibility as it is anything else. I want to be their mother, and all that the word encompasses, before I am ever their friend or playmate. I'll always prefer my shoes to hers.

But it's still hard.

Sometimes I wonder if it would make a difference if the new woman in their lives was someone new, someone other than the person he left me for. Maybe. Maybe not. It doesn't really matter.

What does matter is this: I'm thankful that she's nice to my kids. I'm thankful that he has help when he takes them out and about. I'm thankful that my children are comfortable with her and that they have a good time together. It could be so much worse.

And I also hope that one day (and, in the spirit of honesty, I hope it's one day sooner rather than later) there will be a man in my life who falls in love with my kids, and whom my kids fall in love with, as easy as she has.

It still feels like a sucker punch, though.

Tough.

What follows is the Truth that I am digesting tonight. I believe it, and I'd like to say that I'm sold-out enough for Jesus that I don't struggle with the concept, but that would be a lie. I'm in the process of being refined in many, many ways...but especially with this particular issue:

My kids. My babies. My heart and soul walking around outside my body. I love them more than I could have ever imagined, and they will always, always, always (and very literally) be a part of me. Nothing can change that.

And nothing can change the fact that the most difficult part of the last year, and the one aspect of this divorce that can still get me agitated, defensive, and physiologically angry, is what this decision has done to my sweet children. Big-picture issues, thoughts, ideas, and conversations are constantly circulating in my brain: are they being given a godly example to follow? will they understand what a covenant relationship is and what that looks like? will they know and accept the Truth? will they learn to define their worth in Christ and what He has done for them, or will there come a point when they wonder if the reason their Daddy left might have something to do with them? will they understand the concept of forgiveness and see it modeled in their lives? will they believe in the God their parents profess to believe in, even though we haven't always made Biblical decisions? what if, when, how, will they...

I love them. God loves them more.

Then come the smaller, more selfish details: I just miss them. I want to be with them. I sit and I look at the calendar and I realize that I won't see them for Halloween, or Thanksgiving Day, or Christmas Eve. They won't be with me for the local fall festival, or for Labor Day (a much needed break after the back-to-school transition), or on their birthdays. There will come a point when they'll be gone every other weekend, all weekend long. When they'll spend days at a time away from me, when they'll go on trips and vacations and to family reunions that I'll never participate in and maybe not ever know anything about. They'll have rules and traditions and memories that don't include me, and, in all honesty, will most likely include her. Already their schedules and priorities and discipline are different when they're with him; already they have a tough time transitioning home after a visit. Already it feels as if my heart is being ripped from my chest every time they leave.

Already I wonder how I'll fill my days when they're gone for extended amounts of time; how I'll fill the ache in my heart when a celebration should include them and doesn't.

And already I believe that our God is big enough and powerful enough and loves me and my children enough to take care of all that stuff. I get that. I have to be reminded of it occasionally, but I get it.

Or do I?

Because tonight, Abraham is all over my heart. Would I do it? Could I do it? Do I trust God enough, do I believe Him enough, that if He asked, I would not only hand my children over to Him, but offer them as a sacrifice?

Um, no. I think that's fairly obvious.

I can't even hand them over for a couple of hours without worrying about what will happen if they don't eat, or don't take a nap, or come home twenty minutes late. I've got a lot to learn.

The Bible says this about Abraham:

By faith Abraham, when God tested him, offered Isaac as a sacrifice. He who had received the promises was about to sacrifice his one and only son, even though God had said to him, "It is through Isaac that your offspring will be reckoned." Abraham reasoned that God could raise the dead, and figuratively speaking, he did receive Isaac back from death.

Abraham believed in a God who could conquer the grave. A God who could take a seemingly impossible situation and redeem it for His glory; a God who could take a seemingly impossible situation and still stay true to His Word. Do I believe in that God? A God who can conquer divorce and all that decision entails for my kids? A God who can redeem an impossible situation for His glory? A God who can stay true to His Word even when we as humans cannot?

Perhpas this is a better question: am I living, in every facet of my life, like I believe in that God?

This is the painful part...