One of my all-time favorite books is "A Christmas Carol," by Charles Dickens. I didn't always like it. In fact, when I was much younger, I pretty much hated it. I felt like it was over-commercialized and overused during Christmas.

A few years ago, while listening to an audio rendition of the book, I heard something that I felt like I had never heard before. The passage comes from that pivotal moment when Ebenezer Scrooge meets the ghost of his former business partner, Jacob Marley. Marley, now a chained and tormented soul, is lamenting the opportunities he lost to serve mankind. This is what happens next:

"But you were always a good man of business, Jacob," faltered Scrooge, who now began to apply this to himself.

"Business!"

cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again."Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!"�Why did I walk through crowds of fellow-beings with my eyes turned down, and never raise them to that blessed Star which led the Wise Men to a poor abode! Were there no poor homes to which its light would have conducted me!"

Throughout my life, I have seen countless film and stage adaptations of this very scene. But that was the first time I had ever truly felt Jacob Marley's words. As someone who is deeply introverted, that passage seemed to completely revolutionize my outlook on the world and my place in it. It made me see just how much I had been like Jacob Marley; that I, too, had walked "through crowds of fellow-beings with my eyes turned down." I realized that the weight of my selfishness was one of my own making. I was suddenly filled with a desire to move outside of myself, and make mankind my business.

To help me remember what I had felt, I searched online for an image of Jacob Marley that matched his message - an image of the sadness and regret in his eyes, an image of him inviting me to consider my ways and consider my business. I wanted to print this image out and hang it up in a place where I would see Marley often and remember the words that he had said.

But after hours of searching online, most of the images I found were either laughable or grotesque. There was no real image that matched Marley's message of repentance.

My inability to find an inviting image of a humbled Marley led me to this realization:

I had never truly heard Marley's message because it had always been drowned out by excessive, showy theatrics; lights, fog machines, heavy chains and loud noises. Because of an overemphasis on the ghostly and ghastly, Marley's message had been lost to me.

Not long ago, I shared these thoughts with Angela Johnson, an accomplished sculptor and a dear friend. I told her how I wished there could be an image of Jacob Marley that invited viewers to make mankind their business.

Two days later, Angela sent me an email with the subject header "Meet Jacob Marley."

Imagine my surprise when, after opening the email, I saw - for the first time - the REAL Jacob Marley.

Angela had created a Jacob Marley door knocker, with the linens around his head serving as the knocker.

Overcome by emotion, I called Angela. I think I even managed to get out a few words before the tears started to roll down my cheeks. I couldn't help but think of how beautifully symbolic the whole thing was. Here I wanted a sculpture of Jacob Marley to remind me that people are to be my business, and my friend literally made it her business to create that sculpture.

Within two weeks Angela had the sculpture cast in bronze and the real Jacob Marley was immortalized.

The post The forgotten words of Jacob Marley appeared first on FamilyToday.

There is a popular belief among all of us that I think is pure evil - and I don't use that word lightly. It is a contemptible, destructive philosophy that crushes hope and it freezes its followers in a lake of stagnation. Instead of ennobling and strengthening those who embrace it, this belief drags men and women down. It encourages isolation, fosters fear and perpetuates resentment. It robs men and women of their strength and will to fight; it makes them give in and fall down instead of hold true and stand up. In short, this philosophy is anything but liberating - it is dooming. Like a pernicious plague, this belief - if embraced - can stunt our growth and limit our life.

The belief?

I can't change. I am a victim of my circumstances.

Yet despite all of its side effects, we nevertheless cling to this belief to one degree or another. In order to make it go down easier we sugarcoat it with pleasing justifications and reassure ourselves that this belief will actually soothe our pains. And for a time, it does. Like the addict who self-medicates with drugs, or the alcoholic who escapes life through drink, we run to victimhood to make ourselves feel better. The belief that we're not responsible for our actions gives us a buzz, or a temporary relief, before dropping us down lower than before. This belief is like a chocolate-covered razor blade - it tastes sweet, but after you swallow it, the chocolate will wear off and the razor will be exposed. You see, victimhood is vicious; it takes and tortures its prisoners. Unaware that the belief is the thing that is hurting us and halting us, we will continue to blame anything and everything around us - even our own bodies - but certainly not ourselves.

Busy with blame, we will invariably overlook this important truth: We may not be able to control what happens to us, but we can always control how we react.

We are not victims of our circumstances. We are always free to choose - to act and not be acted upon. The sooner we embrace this belief and accept our responsibility, the sooner we will triumph over our circumstances and become a victor instead of a victim.

Please point me to anyone in history - anyone who has changed the world for the better - who embraced the belief that they were a victim. The men and women we revere are the individuals who refuse to be a victim of their circumstances; they take responsibility for how they react to the things that are given to them. By taking responsibility for life, these individuals are able to transcend their circumstances in a most beautiful (and oftentimes ironic) way.

Winston Churchill, the venerable Prime Minister who led Great Britain to victory in World War II, has become an icon of oration. His words inspired millions in the fight against Nazi Germany. In his first speech to the House of Commons he said: "You ask, what is our aim? I can answer in one word. It is victory, victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory, however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival."

Yet for all of his success in speaking, as a boy Churchill struggled with a speech impediment. Had he believed himself a victim of his circumstance, we may never have seen "victory in spite of all terror."

Helen Keller was both deaf and blind, yet went on to earn a bachelor's degree, become a political activist, a lecturer and a prolific author. After accomplishing what many would deem 'impossible' Helen Keller would later write this: "Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement; nothing can be done without hope."

Nelson Mandela was an anti-apartheid revolutionary who was imprisoned for 27 years. While in prison, he memorized the poem "Invictus," which reads, in part: "It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul." Instead of blaming his circumstances, Nelson Mandela accepted responsibility for his fate and emerged from prison a different kind of revolutionary - one whose attitude of forgiveness would change the world.

Indeed, the world is filled to bursting with individuals who have refused to be the victim of their circumstances and have chosen instead to be the victor of their own story. I know women who were abused as children but refuse to remain the victims of their abusers. Instead, they offer hope, help and guidance to others in similar situations, and actively work to prevent the abuse of other children. I know a man who, when he was a child, was beaten by his father and eventually placed in foster care. He has refused to remain a victim of his father's negligence and abuse and has chosen instead to become a loving husband and a caring father. I know a girl who was born with cerebral palsy, but has gone on to chase her dreams and earn a degree.

On a personal level, I suffer from chronic depression which can be very debilitating and very heart-wrenching. Depression is something that runs in my family and it would be easy (and acceptable) for me to use that factor as an excuse. And for many years, I did use that as an excuse. Those were the hardest and most difficult times of my life.

And, of course they were, because I was allowing myself to be a victim of my depression. I had voluntarily surrendered all of my power to this idea that I was a victim. I believed I was trapped. Why wouldn't I be miserable?

But I can attest to a marvelous, inexplicable power that has come to me whenever I accept the full responsibility for my depression. Whenever I truly believe that "I am the master of my fate, the captain of my soul," then I'm given the strength to face my demons. Author Robert Louis Stevenson once said: "You cannot run away from a weakness; you must some time fight it out or perish; and if that be so, why not now, and where you stand?"

It hasn't been easy, and it hasn't been a one-time event, but taking ownership of my life has been worth the fight.

I called the philosophy of victimhood the most damaging philosophy of all time - I called it evil. I stand by that. In Dante's Inferno, the Devil is found at the lowest level of Hell surrounded, not by fire, but by a lake of ice. This lake is kept frozen by the beating of Satan's wings.

For Dante, Satan's punishment symbolizes several things: one, the isolation of Hell; two, the fact that there is no progression in Hell; and three, that the isolation and stagnation of Hell is of our own making. By blaming everyone else (and most especially by blaming God), Satan has sunk to the lowest levels of isolation. There, by the beating of his own wings, the Fallen Angel remains, crushed by the weight of his own victims, and mired in a frozen lake of victimhood.

Now, we are not like the Fallen Angel of Dante's Inferno. But let me appeal to the "better angels" of your nature. If you feel like life is Hell, stop beating your wings (or fists) at the world. We cannot always control what happens to us, but we can always control how we react. Abandon the idea that you will forever be the victim of the things that have happened to you. Choose to be a victor.

Embrace that belief and I promise you that you will feel the weight of Hell drop from your shoulders. Because we are always free to choose.

And that is the most liberating belief of all time.

The post The most damaging belief of all time appeared first on FamilyToday.

To all that are struggling with depression,

I don't know you. I don't know who you are or where you're from. I don't know your background, nor do I know your unique circumstances. I don't know if your depression is the result of your genetic disposition, or if it is caused by something terrible that happened to you in your past. I don't know if you're going through a major change in your life or if you're struggling to cope with the loss of a loved one.

There are a lot of things about your fight with depression that I simply don't know.

But let me tell you a few things that I do know.

I know how it feels.

I know how it feels to have no one understand what you're going through.

I know how it feels to feel alone in a crowded room; to feel like you're putting on a "happy mask" in public, only to feel like you're slipping further and further into an unsolvable despair.

I know how it feels to lose interest in things that once brought you joy and happiness; for foods to lose their taste, for nature to lose its beauty and for the world to lose its color.

I know how it feels to want to be left alone while simultaneously (and desperately) yearning for someone to reach out and help you.

I know how it feels to do everything - absolutely everything- to try to fill the growing emptiness inside of you. I know how it feels to try to self-medicate and mute the pain with anything and everything: excessive sleep, television, foods, pain killers or other addictions.

I know how it feels to fall to your knees and beg God to free you from the terrible loneliness of the darkness in your mind - only to feel like the ground has opened beneath you, plunging you into an even darker abyss.

I know how it feels because I've suffered from depression since I was a kid. In 2006, my depression culminated in a suicide attempt that very nearly claimed my life.

I know how depression feels and I'm intimately aware of the thoughts and feelings that lead to suicide.

But I also know a few other things. And this is why I'm writing to you.

I know there is hope

Just as night is defeated by the dawn, or as the winter is conquered by the spring, or as the darkness is dominated by any degree of light, I know that you can make it through this.

And what's more, I know that you can be a better person because of it.

Our lives are a journey on the earth. As we move forward, we will not only figuratively experience the geography of life: the exhilaration of high mountains, the tranquility of calm meadows, the isolation of treacherous canyons, but we also experience the seasons of life: the hope of spring, the abundance of summer, the harvest of autumn and, yes, the darkness and depression of winter.

Just as we continuously experience the change in seasons, we will also experience the contrast between canyons and mountains many times in our lives. Some winters and canyons last longer than others, it is true. But as someone who frequently struggles with depression, I can promise you that the springs do come and that there are paths out of the canyons and into the light.

I said that you are going to be a better person as a result of your depression. I meant it. Having dealt with depression for over 20 years, I can say with confidence that my depression has given me an incomparable appreciation for life.

If you move forward while holding onto the knowledge that the sun will rise in your soul, I assure you that one day, you will stand at the summit of a figurative mountain and look back on your life's journey. You will see your canyons of depression for what they were and realize that they taught you things you otherwise couldn't have learned. And, to your utter amazement, you will see how your experiences with depression, dark and painful as they were, only added to the overall beauty of your life.

For aren't the most beautiful vistas the ones that are filled with mountains, valleys, canyons and wondrous variety?

To all who are struggling with depression or suicidal thoughts: you are not alone. We are all on this journey together. I promise you that there is hope. Let us reach out to one another and walk together in the sunlight.

The post To the Depressed and Suicidal: I Know How it Feels appeared first on FamilyToday.

For whatever reason, we seem to have this funny idea that love is supposed to be bliss or that when we get married we've somehow achieved a state of "happily-ever-after."

Well, that's just not true. Love is actually quite painful.

In fact, if you're doing it right, love, marriage and family will be the most painful things you'll ever experience. Not because they're bad things, but because to love at all means to open yourselves up to vulnerability and pain. And to love someone completely - as you do in marriage - is to put your whole heart on the line.

True love will be painful. True love _should be_ painful.

To be clear, when I say that true love should be painful I am not referring to abusive, obsessive or co-dependent relationships. Those relationships are predicated upon selfishness and will inevitably produce a pain that's destructive and detrimental.

No, the "painful love" to which I am referring are those relationships that help us grow beyond ourselves. Because we are all imperfect, we will inevitably get hurt. But that hurt has the ability to make us stronger than before. Marriage and family relationships are to our hearts like exercise is to our muscles.

A number of years ago, I overheard my mother talking about her parents - Grandpa and Grandma Adams. While in her 50s, Grandma Adams was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, a degenerative disease that disrupts the body's ability to communicate with its nervous system. Within a few short years, Grandma had lost the ability to walk and was confined to a wheelchair. Grandpa, who was a police chief, retired two years earlier than he had planned so he could take care of his wife.

My grandfather helped my grandmother bathe, get around the house, and run errands. He once told my mother: "It hurts me to see her like this. You know, when I got married I thought that everything would be smooth sailing. I never imagined that I would have to help her change her catheter every day. But I do it and I don't mind it - because I love her."

Please disabuse your minds of a perfect, painless love; it simply doesn't exist. Because love isn't always fluffy, cute, and cuddly. More often than not, real love has its sleeves rolled up, dirt and grime smeared on its arms, and sweat dripping down its forehead. True love asks us to do hard things, almost impossible things- to repeatedly try to help a sibling overcome an addiction again and again and again, to care for a dying parent, to embrace a wayward child, to comfort someone who is suffering, to risk your safety for another or to give birth to a child.

C. S. Lewis put it this way:

There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one"�Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness"�The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.

Yes, love is painful. But as C. S. Lewis suggests, we can respond to any relationship with either a closed, hellish heart, or an open, heavenly heart. If you keep your heart open, that same pain can become a purifying pain, a strengthening pain. If we choose forgiveness over bitterness, that pain can heal instead of hurt. Instead of a pain that divides, it can be a pain that binds. Instead of a pain that breaks us down, it can be a pain that builds us up.

Fear, hatred and selfishness? Those are easy. But, Hell is easy. Faith, love, and selflessness? Those are hard. But, Heaven is hard - and rewarding.

Grandpa and Grandma Adams created a legacy for their children and grandchildren that we have never forgotten. But creating a legacy of love is simply impossible without pain or opposition. So don't worry that your relationships are painful and difficult. Love will always be quite painful. Instead, worry about how you will react to the pain. Will you respond with a closed, hellish heart, or an open, heavenly heart?

The post True love should be painful appeared first on FamilyToday.

My wife doesn't give me the the love I deserve.

About a year and a half into our marriage, I was struggling with an intense feeling of bitterness. Marriage wasn't what I had anticipated. It wasn't anything like the pretty photographs and romantic movies I had seen-it was hard work.

I felt resentful, robbed of romance. This resentment fueled my depression, and in my bitterness I foolishly blamed Kim.

My wife doesn't give me the love I deserve! I thought to myself.

Within a few short months, my bitterness had had grown to such an intensity, that it poisoned our relationship and threatened to destroy our marriage. Then, after the pressure had built up to where neither of us could stand it, emotions erupted. I was callous and resentful.

But instead of reciprocating my bitterness, Kim showed me an outpouring of love. Even though I had caused her tremendous pain, she laid her hands on my face and told me that she loved me.

I looked at Kim, unable to understand the love I was receiving. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. My heart melted, and I hung my head down low.

My wife doesn't give me the love I deserve, I thought to myself.

It was the same phrase I had thought to myself before, but this time it meant something completely different.

Here I was, blaming my wife for my pain, anguish, and depression, and yet she refused to echo that resentment. Instead, she opened her heart and hands and offered me love and forgiveness that I frankly didn't deserve.

While I fully believe that each of us is a person of divine, inestimable worth-worthy of love-I don't believe we ever "deserve" someone else's love. In fact, the feeling of entitlement-the belief that we deserve something from someone else-often works as a detonator to the bomb that destroys our relationships.

The spirit of entitlement smothers love, but the spirit of gratitude lets love soar. It's the difference between taking and receiving.

When Kim and I were married, our minister advised us to receive each other in marriage-not to take each other in marriage. In taking, you assume that something belongs to you-that you have a right to demand it. In contrast, with receiving, you recognize that the thing belongs to someone else, but is being given to you out of the goodness of that person's heart. In the case of marriage, you recognize that your spouse is a person with a life as real as yours, and that being with them-and receiving love from them-is a gift they choose to give.

How many relationships would be improved if we received our companion in a spirit gratitude? How many abusive relationships would be healed if the abuser realized that his/her spouse is a person of inestimable worth, that love and affection is a precious gift that person chooses to give?

I am certainly not perfect at being grateful in marriage-far from it. Yet I have learned that gratitude is the great multiplier in life. The more we express gratitude for things in life, the more life we receive.

Rid yourselves of the need to 'deserve' love. Instead, focus on giving it. Because the more we express sincere gratitude and love for our spouse (the more we truly receive them) the more they blossom, grow, and reciprocate that love.

And as you practice more gratitude in life, you will get so much more love than you ever imagined that you 'deserved.'

The post My wife doesn’t give me the love I deserve! appeared first on FamilyToday.

In 2006, I nearly succeeded in taking my life.

Six months later, I received a letter from a close friend. I half-expected it to be a letter of comfort. It was not. It was cutting. Of the many things which were written, I will only share two sentences: "I can't believe you tried to take your life. How could you be so selfish?"

As I held that letter with a trembling hand, I was immediately reminded of all the letters and notes I had written to my family and friends in the hour before I tried to end my life. In those notes, I tearfully expressed deep regret and remorse for what I was about to do. But, the pain had become so unbearable that I believed I was toxic - that my continued existence was actually hurting my family and friends. I sincerely believed that suicide was the only way to end the pain for myself and everyone associated with me.

Is that selfish?

And what of the tens of thousands of people whose emotional agony becomes so intense that it overrides their innate, natural desire to live? Are they selfish because they're consumed with a pain that won't go away? What about the people who attempt suicide as a desperate cry for help? Are they selfish for needing help? Is it selfish to feel like you're trapped in a burning building and your only escape is leaping from the window? Is it selfish to forget about how your death might hurt others?

I honestly don't know. It took me years to make sense of my own medical condition. How on earth could I accurately judge someone else's situation? Everyone's struggle is unique and there is so much that we just don't know.

But here's something I do know:

Calling someone selfish doesn't help

Calling someone selfish for being depressed and having suicidal thoughts doesn't help them recover. And calling someone selfish for committing suicide doesn't help their families and friends recover. It only encourages bitterness, resentment and guilt.

But do you know what does help?

Empathy. Reaching out and loving those who are in pain - suffering alongside those who suffer - that's what matters. That is the most helpful thing that anyone can do for another person.

The person that wrote me a letter and called me selfish nearly tore me apart. The words settled into my stomach like a razor blade. I couldn't sleep. I was consumed with guilt and a renewed sense of self-loathing.

About a week later, I received another letter - this one from my sister Shannon. Shannon is the oldest in our family and was born with a mild form of cerebral palsy. Her condition has caused her to struggle with a severe learning disability and has made it difficult for her to walk straight. Shannon is as gentle and innocent as a child and she's one of the most charitable and loving people I've ever known.

Here is part of the letter that Shannon wrote to me:

"Seth...Keep pressing forward. Your family loves you very much. Don't give up."

Can you feel the difference between the two letters? The first one cut me down while the second one lifted me up. I was so touched by Shannon's letter that I've carried it with me wherever I've gone (it's on the corner of my desk right now). And "pressing forward" and moving forward has since become my own personal motto.

I've seen a lot of comments and articles debating whether or not suicide is or isn't selfish. I would humbly suggest that you bring those questions to God, the Master Physician - for he is the only one that fully understands each unique situation. And instead of calling someone selfish for being depressed or suicidal, I would ask you to reach out to that person in love. Write them a letter and tell them that you love them and encourage them forward.

Take it from me: whatever the root of their problem is, empathy goes a long way to helping them move forward.

"�and they will never, ever forget it.

Read more in the upcoming book Your life isn't for you by Seth Adam Smith.

The post Is suicide selfish? The answer may surprise you appeared first on FamilyToday.

This article is sponsored by Irreplaceable, a new feature-length documentary focused on families.

I like to drive. In fact, I like to drive a lot. If I'm ever deeply stressed or struggling, I'll go for a very long drive. Something about driving just soothes me.

It may be because I enjoy the scenery or because it gives me the time and space I need to think. But, the more I think about it, the more I think my driving has to do with the fact that my dad drove me back to life.

Some time ago, I was twenty-years-old and grappling with a serious addiction and deep depression. Things became so intensely dark and painful that I decided to end my life. In this, I would have succeeded had my dad not discovered me.

I was rushed to the hospital where the doctors were able to prevent my death - but they were unable to give me life. You see, even though I was alive, I felt empty, hollow, and emotionally numb - dead to the world.

In an attempt to revive my spirit, my family rallied and offered every imaginable form of life support. There were heartfelt conversations, encouraging notes, frequent phone calls and there was lots of time spent together.

But, I think my dad was at a bit of a loss at what to do. After all, he wasn't a professional at emotional therapy. He had never struggled with depression or addiction. How could he know what to say?

So he did the only thing he knew how to do: he drove. He took me on road trips throughout Arizona - lots of road trips. In fact, in the first few months after my suicide attempt, I think I spend almost every weekend on the road with my dad.

We didn't talk a whole lot (my dad doesn't subscribe to the "talk-about-your-feelings"� idea), we just drove. But you know what? Somewhere on those roads of Southwestern America, I started to come back to life. You see, even though my dad didn't exactly know what to do, he was giving me the purest form of life support: love.

Often, we're tempted to think that that we have little to offer the world - that our love is inadequate. But, our ability to love others is the greatest tool that we have to change lives for the better.

Simple as it was, the memory of those road trips with my dad still has a profound influence on me. Ever since then, I look for any and every opportunity to be on the road; not because I enjoy the scenery, not because I enjoy the time and space it gives me to think, but because it reminds me that my dad loves me.

And, the knowledge that my dad loves me always drives me back to life.

The post My dad drove me back to life appeared first on FamilyToday.

I know a man who had a great divorce - one that blessed his life and the lives of others immeasurably. And, strangely enough, this divorce actually improved his marriage. At the time, I didn't quite understand it. But now I think I want a divorce like his.

Obviously, the divorce I'm talking about is much deeper (and perhaps much more painful) than a marital divorce. In an attempt to explain this concept, C. S. Lewis wrote an allegorical story about the ghost of a man who had left hell to visit heaven. Lewis describes the ghost as "dark and oily"� with a little red lizard perched on his shoulder. The lizard twitched "its tail like a whip"� and whispered commands into the man's ear. Occasionally, the man would snarl at the lizard and tell it to shut up and stop. But in the end, the man would inevitably do whatever the lizard asked him to do. The lizard eventually persuades the man to turn around and go back to hell.

As he's leaving heaven, the ghost is confronted by a massive, flaming angel. The angel asks the ghost for permission to kill the lizard. The ghost hesitates and gives every excuse to prevent the angel from doing so. But after a long and revealing conversation, the ghost admits that the lizard is ruining his life and gives the angel permission to kill it. Instantly, the flaming angel snatches the lizard, kills it, and flings its body to the ground. Believing he'll die without the lizard, the ghost gasps and falls backwards.

In the book, C. S. Lewis explains that this lizard represented the man's lust - for "Lust is a poor, weak, whimpering, whispering thing compared with that richness and energy of desire which will arise when lust has been killed."� But I would take the analogy a step further and compare the lizard to addiction in general. For, no matter who we are, we all struggle with an addiction of some kind. Even if you have no physical addictions, we are all addicted, on some level, to our own will and desires.

The ghost experienced a deep and painful - but very necessary - divorce (or separation) from an addiction that had been preventing him from moving forward.

But what happens next in Lewis's story is truly amazing! The ghost transforms into an immense man - a form similar to the flaming angel. At the same time, the body of the lizard transforms into a great and beautiful stallion. The "new-made man"� then joyously climbs onto the back of the horse and gallops forward, into heaven.

I started this article by telling you that I know a man who had such a divorce - a divorce that has blessed his life and the lives of others immeasurably. He's actually one of my best friends. His "divorce"� was from a life of hard drugs, alcohol, and reckless living. And in exchange, he got a second chance at life. This divorce was painful and difficult and took a lot longer than the thought it would. But it happened! Like the ghost in the story, my friend turned his life over to heaven, and God has transformed him into a giant among men - turning his greatest pains into pearls of wisdom in the process. By drawing upon his experiences, my friend has been able to help countless others move forward in life.

In reference to such a process of divorce, C. S. Lewis wrote these beautiful words:

"That is what mortals misunderstand. They say of some temporal suffering, 'No future bliss can make up for it,' not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory."�

I've seen the power that comes to people who choose to kill the "lizard"� of their addictions and surrender their lives to God and serve others. I've seen them become stronger and more full of life, overcome with a renewed sense of purpose.

In that sense, I hope to have a great divorce like that - to be able to surrender the things that hold me back, and allow God to transform me into someone greater.

A great divorce, indeed.

The post A divorce that will IMPROVE your marriage appeared first on FamilyToday.

This article was originally published on SethAdamSmith.com. It has been republished here with permission. Seth is also the author of the wildly popular post, "Marriage Isn't For You.

I'm sure it may come as a shock to some people, but I let my wife go. It was one of the hardest things I've had to do, but it was the right thing for the both of us.

No, we're not getting a divorce and no, we're not separating. Truth be told, the practice of "letting go" has actually brought us closer together. But in order to understand what I mean by "letting go," you must first understand that Kim and I are two very different people.

In fact, the differences between us were Kim's primary concern with us getting married. "Seth, a fish may love a bird," she said. "But where would they live?"

I smiled at the comparison because it's fairly accurate.

Kim and I are incredibly different people. She's the oldest in her family; I'm the youngest in mine. She's very responsible; I'm...very much not. She loves the city; I prefer the country. She loves healthy food; I love junk food. She enjoys school; I despise school. She wants to watch British dramas; I'd rather watch comedies. She loves to sing and dance; I'd rather not. She prefers flying; I prefer driving. She loves to be with people, and I'd prefer to be alone. Kim is a driven, career-minded, goal-oriented woman, while I, on the other hand, am a laid-back fellow who prefers gardening and writing over anything else.

To put it simply, Kim is an extrovert while I am an introvert. Frankly, it sometimes amazes me that Kim and I even met - let alone got married!

But after knowing Kim for 10 years, I knew that I simply couldn't live without her.

Despite their many differences, the fish loved the bird and the bird loved the fish.

So we put our faith in that love and did the only thing a fish and a bird could do: we got married and built a bird bath.

The bird bath is a symbol for our middle ground - the place where we come together - but it's also the place from which we feel comfortable to let each other go. To "let go" of someone is to love them enough to let them fly or swim away (or to be themselves) and yet trust that they will always come back.

For if we truly love each other, we have to be willing to "let each other go" to become the best versions of ourselves. Kim encourages me to keep swimming (develop my talents), and I encourage her to fly higher (chase her dreams).

Abusive, one-sided relationships are heartbreaking to me. How can we claim to love someone and then try to limit that person's identity? Marriage is a union, to be sure, but it's a union that should liberate, not incarcerate. Real love shouldn't limit a person's potential, it should expand it.

Real love tells me to let Kim fly and trust that she'll always come back. I have to let her go so she can chase her dreams, pursue her education, and develop her talents. Additionally, I have to let go of my fears that she might fly away and never come back. If the fish were to clip the bird's wings, he would risk trimming her dreams and smothering her altogether.

That being said, I wish I could say that I'm perfect at letting my wife fly. But I'm not. In the end, we're still two very different people. I have some deeply rooted insecurities, and we've had to learn to navigate each other's personalities.

But while I certainly can't tell you that I'm perfect, I can tell you that every time I've encouraged Kim to fly she loves me all the more for supporting her and having the faith to let her go.

So, if you truly love someone, have the faith to "let them go." Encourage them to be the fullest measure of themselves, and you will be overwhelmed by the love that your spouse returns to you.

The post I’m letting my wife go appeared first on FamilyToday.

Having been married only a year and a half, I've recently come to the conclusion that marriage isn't for me.

Now before you start making assumptions, keep reading.

I met my wife in high school when we were 15 years old. We were friends for 10 years until ... until we decided we no longer wanted to be just friends. I strongly recommend that best friends fall in love. Good times will be had by all.

Nevertheless, falling in love with my best friend did not prevent me from having certain fears and anxieties about getting married. The nearer Kim and I approached the decision to marry, the more I was filled with a paralyzing fear. Was I ready? Was I making the right choice? Was Kim the right person to marry? Would she make me happy?

Then, one fateful night, I shared these thoughts and concerns with my dad.

Perhaps each of us have moments in our lives when it feels like time slows down or the air becomes still and everything around us seems to draw in, marking that moment as one we will never forget.

My dad giving his response to my concerns was such a moment for me. With a knowing smile he said, "Seth, you're being totally selfish. So I'm going to make this really simple: marriage isn't for you. You don't marry to make yourself happy, you marry to make someone else happy. More than that, your marriage isn't for yourself, you're marrying for a family. Not just for the in-laws and all of that nonsense, but for your future children. Who do you want to help you raise them? Who do you want to influence them? Marriage isn't for you. It's not about you. Marriage is about the person you married."�

It was in that very moment that I knew that Kim was the right person to marry. I realized that I wanted to make her happy; to see her smile every day, to make her laugh every day. I wanted to be a part of her family, and my family wanted her to be a part of ours. And thinking back on all the times I had seen her play with my nieces, I knew that she was the one with whom I wanted to build our own family.

My father's advice was both shocking and revelatory. It went against the grain of today's "Walmart philosophy," which is if it doesn't make you happy, you can take it back and get a new one.

No, a true marriage (and true love) is never about you. It's about the person you love - their wants, their needs, their hopes, and their dreams. Selfishness demands, "What's in it for me?" while Love asks, "What can I give?"

Some time ago, my wife showed me what it means to love selflessly. For many months, my heart had been hardening with a mixture of fear and resentment. Then, after the pressure had built up to where neither of us could stand it, emotions erupted. I was callous. I was selfish.

But instead of matching my selfishness, Kim did something beyond wonderful-she showed an outpouring of love. Laying aside all of the pain and anguish I had caused her, she lovingly took me in her arms and soothed my soul.

Marriage is about family. I realized that I had forgotten my dad's advice. While Kim's side of the marriage had been to love me, my side of the marriage had become all about me. This awful realization brought me to tears, and I promised my wife that I would try to be better.

To all who are reading this article - married, almost married, single, or even the sworn bachelor or bachelorette - I want you to know that marriage isn't for you. No true relationship of love is for you. Love is about the person you love.

And, paradoxically, the more you truly love that person, the more love you receive. And not just from your significant other, but from their friends and their family and thousands of others you never would have met had your love remained self-centered.

Truly, love and marriage isn't for you. It's for others.

Editor's note: This piece, by Seth Adam Smith, originally appeared on his blog, SethAdamSmith.com. It has been reprinted here with permission.

The post Marriage isn’t for you appeared first on FamilyToday.