I’ve had to adjust to three of my parents’ remarriages, so when I heard Ron Deal speak on Family Life Today, I was intrigued with his idea of a slow cooker as a metaphor for blended families.
Deal says when a blended family begins they need to adjust slowly, on a low simmer in a slow cooker. But many parents make the mistake of trying to create instant happiness, using high speed and friction in a blender.
He asserts that children need more time to adjust to the remarriage than they needed to grieve the loss of the previous family, an average of five to seven years.
Often the children are the family members who suffer most because they don’t get adequate time to adjust.
If you try to hurry a recipe for pot roast, you will fail. The meat gets tough and dry, the carrots and potatoes are still hard, and the onions and celery turn to mush. You must use low, slow heat to achieve a harmony of tender meat and flavorful vegetables. That’s what a slow cooker provides.
Deal says there’s a carrot in every family. While everyone else is softening up nicely, the carrot remains hard. Sometimes it’s the teenager. Sometimes it’s the part-time child who doesn’t see the stepparent often enough, so the relationship can’t gel. The carrot needs extra time to soften at a low simmer, at a low level of stress and expectation.
I was the carrot in my family. My mom remarried the week after I turned 13. I had lived in a household of three females for eight years, and I felt threatened by the inevitable changes. An introvert at such a precarious age, I preferred to sit in my room and sort out my thoughts in my journal or through prayer.
As a people pleaser, I often went along with Mom’s sincere attempts to create happy family time, but I buried my resentment. My younger sister didn’t seem to resist the change, but I continued to stand at a distance for a long time. At least five years passed before I felt comfortable in our new family. St. Louis Cardinals baseball became the neutral bridge and allowed us to build pleasant memories.
Ron Deal says parents must validate their children’s struggles and their fears during the blending process. I wish someone would have recognized the pressure I faced, from within and without, and told me, “I know this is hard for you.” Perhaps my transition might have been less painful.
How does this teaching affect you as a child of divorce or as a parent in a blended family?
If you liked this post, I would appreciate your shares on social media!
If you make a purchase through the provided links, I receive a small commission at no extra cost to you. Thank you in advance for supporting my writing ministry!
My weekly newsletter Tea on Tuesdaysis delivered at 3:00 p.m. Central time every Tuesday. I write an exclusive devotion for you each week that I share with you first.
To receive the newsletter, please subscribe below. I can’t wait to share personally with you each week!
Want to know more about me before you sign up? You can read my story here and learn more about my books here. By signing up, you are agreeing to the terms of my privacy policy.
Almost every time I see a Pixar movie with my children, I end up crying as quietly as possible in the dark theater. Inside Out was no different in that respect. This time I cried less for the main character’s plight than I did for the ways the story line resonated with me as an adult child of divorce. Here are my top three takeaways. (note–spoilers ahead!)
1. Our core memories shape our personality.
In the movie, Riley’s core emotions are golden, representing Joy’s influence. Riley has many happy bonding moments with her parents, which buttress her sunny personality.
While watching Joy send Riley’s daily memories to long-term storage, I considered how many of my core memory “marbles” are golden, and how many are blue with Sadness. If I survey my childhood, the sad moments outnumber the happy ones. Surely many adult children of divorce can relate.
With this movie I gained some understanding into my childhood struggles, because most of my core memories–even the joyful ones–are mixed with blue. The good news is I can use those sad memories to power me toward making joyful memories with my family today.
2. Sadness is a vital emotion.
When Riley faces a tough transition, her emotions war inside. Joy strives to regain control and banishes Sadness. Riley’s emotional state disintegrates until Sadness is permitted to take the helm, allowing Riley express pent-up pain and grieve her losses. She cannot get well until Sadness helps her.
I don’t usually see Sadness as helpful. I see it as a dark grey cloud, a weight on my chest, an unwanted heaviness. I feel guilty about Sadness, even though melancholy is my core alignment. Yet I cannot welcome Joy until I take a walk with Sadness, acknowledging her presence and listening to her wisdom. Sadness clears the path for Joy.
3. Validation is a key to healing.
Near the end of the movie, Riley finally expresses Sadness in front of her parents. She is afraid they will be angry, but instead they quickly affirm her fears, doubts, and struggles. Sadness allows others to help Riley–a key lesson for Joy to learn before she resumes headship.
I couldn’t hold back tears at this point. What I craved most from my parents, from anyone in my childhood, was validation of my pain. Not one more “It could be worse.” Not one more “Be thankful.” Not one more admonition to “Lighten up” or “Shake it off.” Sadness sat beside Riley’s imaginary friend, simply listening. She placed her hand on his arm and simply affirmed, “That’s sad.” She didn’t tell him to stop crying. Once she comforted him, he had the energy to move forward.
I didn’t receive validation until I was in therapy as an adult. Only then did I learn to grieve my losses and pour my energy into moving forward as a wounded healer.
How did this movie resonate with you as an adult child of divorce? I look forward to your comments, and I may write a future post based on your responses. Thanks for reading!
If you liked this post, I would appreciate your shares on social media!
If you make a purchase through the provided links, I receive a small commission at no extra cost to you. Thank you in advance for supporting my writing ministry!
My weekly newsletter Tea on Tuesdaysis delivered at 3:00 p.m. Central time every Tuesday. I write an exclusive devotion for you each week that I share with you first.
To receive the newsletter, please subscribe below. I can’t wait to share personally with you each week!
Want to know more about me before you sign up? You can read my story here and learn more about my books here. By signing up, you are agreeing to the terms of my privacy policy.
I love my cluttered collection of magnets, photos, and business cards on the sides of my refrigerator. When I take a phone call or sort our recycling items, I look over my collection and it makes me smile. Corny, glittered mementos from tourist shops. Handmade creations from my children’s classrooms. Oldie-but-goodie prints from our dating days.
The one item that always gives me pause is my August 1993 school portrait.
The 15-year-old me was nervous and excited that day. Freshly hatched from a spiritual rebirth experience in the basement bathroom the week prior, I was ready to enter my junior year with verve for the Lord.
Little did I know that in two short months my lifelong best friend would move away, and I would turn all my hurt inward and slide downward, even entertaining suicidal thoughts.
I wasn’t aware that my depression was linked to all the hurt, anger, and confusion about my parents’ divorces and second marriages. The storm clouds were gathering and I would be blindsided.
More than 20 years later, I know her pain. I no longer hate myself, and I no longer am burdened with anger and confusion. It took a lot of suffering, grieving, and therapy to get to the other side.
I heard a sermon once that said God carries your photo in His wallet. I think He carries my old photo in His wallet, or maybe He keeps it on the side of His refrigerator. I take comfort in His words of Isaiah 49:16, “See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.”
God saw me and knew me then. He knew the storm clouds were gathering. He never let me go, even as the storms raged over me. He showed me how to come out on the other side as a conqueror (Romans 8:37).
When I pause and look at that photo now, I say out loud, “I love you, 15-year-old Sarah.” I say that to acknowledge the girl inside me, to validate her pain and her worth. And then I thank God for all the healing He has brought to me since then.
How has God helped you through your struggles as a child of divorce?
If you liked this post, I would appreciate your shares on social media!
If you make a purchase through the provided links, I receive a small commission at no extra cost to you. Thank you in advance for supporting my writing ministry!
My weekly newsletter Tea on Tuesdaysis delivered at 3:00 p.m. Central time every Tuesday. I write an exclusive devotion for you each week that I share with you first.
To receive the newsletter, please subscribe below. I can’t wait to share personally with you each week!
Want to know more about me before you sign up? You can read my story here and learn more about my books here. By signing up, you are agreeing to the terms of my privacy policy.
Loading Comments...
We use cookies to ensure that we give you the best experience on our website. If you continue to use this site we will assume that you are happy with it.OkPrivacy policy
