Item from the Smart
Marriages Archive, reproduced in the Divorce Statistics
Collection
By Kara Morrison / The Detroit News
They promised to love one another for life in the spring of 1986,
and Charles and Kelly Talsma say on that day, they each married their
best friend.
Then, two kids, several jobs and a dozen years later, the
Grand Rapids couple found themselves in separate lawyers'
offices, learning the ropes of divorce.
Kelly could no longer handle falling asleep alone, feeling like
an abandoned wife. For three years, she and Charles had
worked opposite shifts -- she days, he nights. Between work,
her college studies and parenting, the Talsmas had time for
only brief talks as they passed in and out the door.
"It was such an incredibly frustrating, lonely experience,"
Kelly recalls.
Just a decade ago, judges, politicians, business owners and
other community leaders would have considered the crisis a
couple's private business. But today -- when the typical
American family is a single-parent home, a majority of
teen-agers doubt they'll marry for life and millions are
choosing never to walk down the aisle -- entire communities
are working to metamorphose America's divorce culture into a
marriage renaissance.
Religious leaders in 120 communities in 37 states, including
Grand Rapids, have adopted community marriage policies,
requiring them to teach relationship skills to couples before
and after performing marriage ceremonies. Several Michigan
communities, including Grand Rapids, Lenawee County and
Detroit are taking the idea further, bringing everyone from
judges to business executives to the table in an attempt to
lower divorce rates and strengthen families.
"Five years ago, there was nothing going on like this," says
Diane Sollee, director of the Coalition for Marriage, Family
and Couples Education in Washington, D.C., a clearinghouse
of information on worldwide efforts to strengthen marriages.
"I think the experts made us all feel divorce happened
because of some psychological problem," says the former
marriage therapist. "We finally have new research that was
really a shot in the arm for this grass-roots movement."
That research shows the No. 1 reason for divorce today is
poor communication and conflict resolution skills -- skills
that can be learned.
The Talsmas say they have benefited from community
efforts to bolster the institution of marriage. But the hard
work and determination to revive a failing union was entirely their own.
>From happiness to confusion
The first years of marriage rolled along fairly smoothly. Soon after
saying, "I do," the Talsmas moved from Michigan to Illinois and
worked
together in a family printing business.
Trouble arrived in years 11, 12 and 13. Missing Michigan, they returned
to Grand Rapids. Charles' initial job offer fell through, and he found
work as a night security officer.
They initially thought it a good idea to work opposite shifts, cutting
out a need for daycare. Then, the couple
who had spent years before and during their marriage working side by side
daily, drifted farther and farther
apart.
"I just became extremely angry," says Kelly, who is 37. "I
was ready to
move on and have some kind of a
normal life."
Charles, who is 47, was frustrated, too. "I wasn't out sitting on a
bar
stool and chasing women," he explains.
"I was working."
Eventually, Kelly sought the advice of a divorce attorney, who suggested
she file a restraining order against
her husband and kick him out of the house.
"It was horrible," she recalls. "This was the father of my
children."
In their three years of struggling, the Talsmas consulted three
counselors, two attorneys and more than one local minister. A time came
when they were both simply tired of talking, tired of arguing. They took
separate vacations, lived in separate parts of the home with their own
bedrooms and living rooms. Their goal was to avoid disrupting their son
and daughter's lives too much.
"I said, 'There's no sense in fighting anymore,' " Charles recalls.
"I
wanted the best for her."
During their year of formal separation, Charles worked security at a
hospital. He often watched elderly couples come in together, helping one
another through life's biggest challenges.
One night, he pictured his own golden years, saw his and Kelly's mature
faces, and he felt an intense sadness.
He wondered whether they would grow old without one another.
The sadness stayed with him, until one evening, as they passed in and out
the door, Kelly noticed something
was wrong. She asked what was on his mind, and Charles shared his deepest
fear.
The conversation was a rare moment of emotional intimacy during a
tumultuous time.
"What it really did for me was make me a lot more confused," Kelly
recalls.
She went in search of a therapist. This time, she found a woman who
didn't insist she dwell on the past or
explore her anger. Instead, she asked Kelly to bring in her wedding
pictures. As Kelly paged through them,
recalling the joy she had felt that day, she had an epiphany of her own.
She began to picture her young daughter's future wedding. A flash of
panic passed through her, imagining she
and Charles with someone else in the church pews and reception halls.
Kelly realized she didn't want to show up at all of her children's
milestones without Charles.
Then another turning point. A letter arrived, alerting the Talsmas their
time to complete divorce proceedings
would soon expire.
Kelly took divorce papers to Charles at work during his dinner break. She
felt hopeless and uncertain
whether she still loved him, but she mustered the courage to take one
final chance. "Do you want to give this
one more shot?" she asked.
His answer was yes.
Worried about giving up his seniority as a second shift supervisor,
Charles chose to do whatever he could to
save his marriage. Six weeks later, he was working days. They were no
longer, as Charles says, "two ships
passing in the night."
"We got down to business," Kelly says. "It was a very long,
hard road of
learning to be married again."
Finding help a challenge
During the reconciliation, Kelly Talsma searched everywhere for help,
looking even on the Internet for
anything that would shed light on how a husband and wife could erase
enough pain to start again. She was
fueled, in part, by a fear of having to tell to her young daughter once
again that Mommy and Daddy couldn't
stay together.
Her search eventually alerted her to the Greater Grand Rapids Community
Marriage Policy.
"Divorce is much more accepted and seen as much more exciting,"
Kelly
says.
"Anything that a community
marriage policy can do to help couples, I'm right there for them. It made
it seem like being married was actually
a popular thing to do."
Both the Talsmas say finding support for divorce is often much easier
than finding help staying married.
They would learn that time, faith and a good marriage counselor were
their biggest boosters.
Sacrifice was the first step. Charles eventually started working from
home. Kelly completed her college
studies and vowed to spend all of her free time with her husband and
children.
She gave up membership in professional organizations so night meetings
wouldn't interfere. Slowing down
their pace of life after months of living separate lives gave them the
needed time to reconnect.
Their counselor continued to help them move forward, rather than dwelling
mostly on past pain and
problems. They learned to plan dates without the kids. They learned how
to stop a heated argument and come
back to the disagreement when emotions had subsided.
"We've learned a lot about the art of giving to each other and thinking
of each other first," Kelly says.
They started going back to church as a family, and talked several couples
into meeting monthly for a type of
marriage support group. They even attended a marriage workshop with
dozens of couples working to improve
their relationships.
The husband and wife who had once worked side by side daily relearned how
to work as a team. As a
symbol of rebuilding, Charles and Kelly tore apart their former bedroom
and together built a master suite.
At the therapist's advice, Charles wrote the Talsma Family Mission
Statement, which hangs prominently
above the piano in their living room: "To support each other physically,
spiritually and emotionally. To
achieve a life of peace, growth and contentment."
This month, the Talsmas will celebrate 14 years of marriage.
"We're back on the honeymoon," Charles says.
Kelly says they've learned to appreciate one another's strengths, to
communicate better. They've learned to
talk out their differences and to set aside time to share their feelings.
Prayer also played a part.
Their relationship, she says, is at its best, and their children are
noticeably happier seeing their parents
together. They no longer have to fear choosing loyalties.
One thing the Kelly and Charles have learned is that marriages don't
survive on auto-pilot. The Talsmas say
they cannot stop working at appreciating one another or at putting their
marriage above everything else.
"The process of working at this marriage and improving our marriage
skills is never ending," Kelly says. "It's
never going away."
Today they try to help other couples. They have appeared in the Greater
Grand Rapids Community
Marriage Policy advertisements, sharing their story. Kelly has spoken at
one of the group's events.
But their marriage comes first. Charles and Kelly still take time for
three to five dates a week, even if some of
them are listening to CDs together in their living room.
They are careful not to downplay the struggle of reconciliation, but they
are enthusiastic about their future
together. "There's this time span at the early stages, where it's very
easy to feel hopeless and turn around and
walk away again," Kelly says. "The reality of it is, it takes
a lot more
strength to hang in there and work on it
as it does to walk away."
| Smart
Marriages Archive | New Divorce
Statistics and Studies Blog | Older Divorce
Statistics Collection Archive |