Divorce vs Cancer...

"... But would you divorce your wife if she had incurable cancer? If she was horribly disfigured? Then how can you be divorcing her now?"

That's the question that absolutely stymied me for at least 2 years. I discovered my wife had an almost certainly untreatable (but for the grace of God) "mental disorder". (I put that in quotes because I'm still very uncomfortable with the line between will and disease.) Now that I knew this, how could I divorce her? Wouldn't the right thing be to stay? To put up with any discomfort?

Yet I am divorcing. So how can I *POSSIBLY* justify it?

I left for one single reason, although now I believe there are two reasons that come into play. The single reason was the safety and welfare of my children.

As she descended into illness, her "snaps" ("Watch her eyes, Dad, that's the clue," my eldest told me.) her breaks from reality became so much more common. The screaming. The yelling.

I was punching bag number one. My eldest was punching bag number two. My fourth of five was punching bag number three.

Initially "punching" was exclusively verbal. But don't for a minute think that's a little thing. "You're worthless. I know any children you ever bear will die. You'll never be a decent wife or mother. You have no value as a human being."

OK, bad enough. How about this? "I've been dreaming of killing you. Now I know exactly how I'd do it!"

I was in Tokyo on business. I was just starting for the day, in front of a room I was to address for the rest of the week. I got a frantic IM. "Dad, she keeps coming after me. She won't stop. I'm scared."

She went on to describe being pushed to the ground and sat on. A pillow being forced over her face and held down. Then the cold icy words, "This is just like I dreamed it would be."

My kiddo fought back and screamed enough to embarass her.

But here's what kills me. I wasn't sure I should believe the report. Wow is denial strong. I'd seen behaviors close to that.

It took two more years. It took a headlock and repeated blows to the head, me pulling on the other side to try to get her off the kid. It took all that and I still wasn't going to do anything. Then SHE went to the police and said *I* had been abusing her. That *I* had been beating HER. She didn't file a report, but called me, taunting that she had.

That did it. I was like a dead-man awakened.

The rest is history. Kinda. Long, tortured history.

It took two more years for me to give up hope... And realize that "If any man wishes to leave his wife he must give her a bill of divorcement."

I had to go back to the Old Testament and lean on that. I came to the point before God where to protect what He had given me, I had to take steps I wasn't sure He was in favor of (I am now, but that's another story).

The man with one talent buried it, knowing that his master (a picture of God) was exacting. A few "friends" have told me that I should have buried my head, ignored the beating, the murderous actions. That there was NO room for divorce.

I took a risk.

D