Why do people file for divorce? In a nutshell, they reach a point where they just can't take it anymore. If they could, they would try a little more, work a little harder; hang in there a little longer. But then, something happens: one more infidelity, one more lie, one more silent dinner, one more put-down, one more drunken bout, one more demeaning sexual encounter, one more threat, one more scream, one more moment of neglect. Something happens and — boom! — we pay attention. Finally, we acknowledge that we are in pain. Finally, we can't take it anymore.

That's what happened to me. When I realized my husband was having an affair, I asked for a trial separation. Two weeks after he moved out, our son asked me to invite his dad for Halloween. My husband agreed to leave after trick or treating. A few neighbors joined us, and we had "bat meat stew" (black beans and rice) and "witches' blood" (raspberry juice for the children, red wine for the adults). After an early dinner, I took the children trick or treating. As he had for years, my husband gave out Junior Mints and Hershey bars.

My son and I came home around eight and fell to the floor to inspect the loot. While we picked over the candy, my husband got more and more irked. He announced it was time to go to bed. Our son was excited and wanted to sort his candy, but his Dad dragged him away. Boom!

When my husband came back to the living room I told him it was time to go, but he wouldn't leave. He suggested we take a bath. "No," I said, "it's time for you to go." Well, leaving wasn't on his mind. He cried about his life. He moaned about his living arrangements. He complained about how poorly his business was doing. He even fumed about the way his secretary was treating him! Boom! I stuck to the only thing I wanted, "It's time for you to go." When he realized I wasn't going to have sex with him, and I wasn't going to let him stay, and I wasn't going to help him solve his problems, he became angry and started screaming and pushing. He shoved me out the door and locked it, screaming, "you move out and never see your son again." Boom! Boom!

By the grace of God, I got back in my house. By the grace of God, I was not hurt. By the grace of God, our son slept through the screaming. By the grace of God, my husband got on his motorcycle and drove away.

I woke the next morning with a sentence pulling me rapidly through layers of sleep. My eyes sprang open and the sentence popped out of my mouth, "I am afraid of you." It was so simple, so perfect, so true. Overnight, I had a name for what I'd been feeling: afraid. Once I said it, I couldn't go back. That sentence dictated everything that followed. Because if I am afraid of you, I can't live with you, I can't make love with you, and I can't be married to you.

Once I said it, my future was set: I would get a divorce. I had no idea where that would lead, but I knew I couldn't go back. If I let him back in my life I would be denying the truth of the pain, the truth of my feelings, and the truth of "I am afraid of you."

What would happen? I had no idea. I was afraid of my future but even more afraid to repeat my past. I didn't know what to do so I gave the whole mess to God. I begged God to protect me as I jumped off the cliff of the awful known into the terrifying unknown.

If you know you can't go back to your old life, but are equally terrified of the future, share your fears with God. Therapists and friends are good too, but I always start with God because God is such a good listener. While God listens, I listen. I begin to detect my deeper feelings and layered fears. After a long session talking with God, I can accurately describe where I am to others and listen — really listen — to their responses.

Here's the truth: God is standing with you at the intersection between the past and the future. Are you afraid? Unsure what will happen? Unclear what to do? Does acknowledging the pain and admitting that you can't go back feel like jumping off a cliff? Tell God. Are you going to take the plunge anyway? Are you going to make a big decision? File for divorce? Start saying "No"? In other words: Are you going to jump into God's breath? Say it. You don't have to pretend you're not terrified. I was and you are, too. Tell God you're scared but jumping anyway. Say it: "ready, set, go." Invite God to jump with you. God is right there, waiting for you to decide.

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Janet Conner, S.E. (Spiritual Explorer), is an expert on the power of practical spirituality to heal your broken heart and transform your world. She is the cartographer of the map of spiritual healing and author of the seven travel guides in the Spiritual Geographyseries. In addition to divine dialogue, she welcomes human conversation at {email janetconner@tampabay.rr.com}janetconner@tampabay.rr.com{/email}. © copyright 2006 by Janet Conner.

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