Mending the Heart. Lisa Duffy

Time to Tear, and a Time to Sew”: What the Annulment Process Really Is and Why It Matters

       Chapter Two

       “A Time to Keep, and a Time to Cast Away”: Debunking Common Myths and Addressing Pope Francis’ Changes

       Chapter Three

       “A Time to Embrace, and a Time to Refrain from Embracing”: A Special Note to Divorced and Civilly Remarried Catholics

       Chapter Four

       “A Time to Break Down, and a Time to Build Up”: A Step-by-Step Walk Through the Annulment Process

       Chapter Five

       “A Time to Weep, and a Time to Laugh”: Encouragement for When the Going Gets Tough

       Chapter Six

       “A Time to Keep Silence, and a Time to Speak”: How Friends and Family Can Help

       Conclusion

       “A Time to Mourn, and a Time to Dance”: Healing and Beginning Again

       Special Thanks to Contributors

      Introduction

      Imagine for a moment sitting in your car in the parking lot of a busy Denny’s restaurant around five o’clock in the afternoon. You haven’t slept or eaten much in the last two weeks. You’re dealing with dehydration because you’ve cried every tear your body could possibly produce, yet somehow you could still cry a river at the drop of a hat.

      This was me back in August 1993. I was sitting in my car, mustering up the courage to go inside that restaurant and meet with my soon-to-be ex-husband. Two weeks before this day, he had walked out and filed for divorce. He had lived a double life for our entire marriage. I had also lost three children in miscarriage by this point, and after surgery to correct the problem I was told by doctors I was sterile. I now had a less than 1 percent chance of ever conceiving a child. The pain I felt was so heavy in my heart, it felt as if it would physically crush me.

      The priest who had been counseling me during those two weeks had been very compassionate, but he also told me I had to ask my husband to consider reconciliation. At first, I was insulted and offended at the suggestion. After all, I was not the one who had left! I was not the one who had been unfaithful! What in the world would possess me to put myself in such a vulnerable position? How humiliating! But the more I thought about it, the more I knew Father Joe was right. I knew that if I didn’t at least throw the offer of reconciliation out there, I would always look back and wonder, “What if?” What if I could have done more to save my marriage?

      My heart was pounding so hard I thought I would have a heart attack. My hands were shaking, and I didn’t know if I would be able to talk, but I had convinced myself that I had to do this. So I went inside and sat down at the table and waited for him. When he arrived, I could see he had visibly changed. The man I married was gone, and now someone very cold and indifferent was in his place.

      That was probably the most painful conversation I have ever had, and I will never forget it. My request was declined. There was no going back. Soon, regardless of the fact that I took my vows seriously and had married for life, the no-fault divorce laws would ensure that I would be divorced.

      The next few years for me were like wandering in the desert, never finding an oasis. I made a lot of mistakes during that period of my life, choices that only brought more pain. I blamed my ex-spouse for everything, even two years later, which made me a victim. And the sad truth is, victims never heal. They just stay stuck in their misery.

      And then came an epiphany of sorts — I realized I was just sick and tired of being sick and tired all the time. I didn’t like this version of myself. I didn’t like being a victim. So I decided I would change. Part of that change was starting the annulment process. I had heard conflicting reports from various people about the annulment process — personal horror stories or warnings, mostly — but I felt compelled to give it a chance. I needed to restart my life, and if that were to happen I had to face the truth of my past.

      I eventually received a decree of invalidity in 1997, and in June 2000 I got married in the Church to my husband, Jim. And despite what the doctors said, we have three beautiful, healthy teenagers. God has blessed me immensely!

      I share that with you because you are likely reading this book because you or someone you know has gone through a divorce, and you are looking for answers about the Catholic annulment process. But, if I may guess, you don’t just want technical answers about the process. You want to know what the experience is like, yes? You’re seeking answers to deeper questions as I was. Questions like: How in the world did I end up here? How could God allow my marriage to end in divorce? Am I still accepted in my Church? And probably most importantly: Where do I go from here?

      These are critical questions that deserve answers, and I’ve written this book in the hope of helping you find those answers. Some answers you will find in the black and white on these pages, and some you will find through self-reflection and prayer. As you read this book, the information will naturally cause you to pause, remember, and reflect on some pretty deep things. I always find that when this part of the healing process takes place, it is most helpful to unite those remembrances and reflections in conversation with God because he will illuminate your thought process and speak to your heart.

      In the Old Testament book of Ecclesiastes, we read a very bittersweet passage:

      For everything there is a season, and a time

      for every matter under heaven:

      a time to be born, and a time to die;

      a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

      a time to kill, and a time to heal;

      a time to break down, and a time to build up;

      a time to weep, and a time to laugh;

      a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

      a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

      a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

      a time to seek, and a time to lose;

      a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

      a time to tear, and a time to sew;

      a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

      a time to love, and a time to hate;

      a time for war, and a time for peace. (Eccles 3:1–8)

      This passage is bittersweet because at least half of it seems to negate our reasons for living. “A time to kill … a time for war … a time to tear down … a time to mourn” — these words directly contradict the sense of hope for the future that has been instilled in us since childhood. Life should be happy, and the promise of future happiness should never pale. But it does. Our lives are filled with crosses, big and small. The cross of divorce, in my opinion, is one of the heaviest you can bear. So I offer you