A couple months ago, I forget how, I learned that my ex was going to take all of my children to Disneyland and the beach for a family reunion. A “my-last-name” family reunion. My first thought was, “How do you have a family reunion without the very living person who brought that ‘my-last-name name’ to the family? Wouldn’t it be a ‘my-ex’s-last-name’ family reunion?”

Anyway … that detail aside …

Over the past weeks I’ve taken my youngest to my married daughter’s house to work in the yard to earn spending money. I’ve overheard plans of my two out-of-state children flying directly to Southern California for the trip. I’ve sensed and heard the excitement of the children. I would be excited, too! Our family was last all together in Disneyland two years before the divorce.

My children and my ex were in Disneyland yesterday, on the beach today, and in Disneyland tomorrow. I’m home missing my weekday evening with the kids, missing them overnight this next weekend, and as fate would have it, my weeknight evening usually devoted from 6:00 pm until 11:00 for my church calling was canceled because the bishop decided to do a last-minute, deeply deserved, vacation with his family. (I adore that man. He is truly a saint, sacrificing much for the Lord.) For the first time in likely five years I have over a week with no time with my children, no responsibilities for my church calling, and this weekend is stake conference so I’ll have no hobnobbing with ward members in relation to my calling.

How do I feel?

I am sad, yes. And I’m constantly thinking of my children, day and night, all of them, and more than usual. I want to be with them. I miss them dearly. But unlike over past years, I’m not shedding as many tears. Not to say I’m not heartbroken. But I’m distanced. I don’t want to be around my ex–she took care of that by cleanly removing me from her life (and writing into our divorce decree that I can only contact her by email and text messages), and the time that has passed has allowed me to still feel sad, but not distraught, angry, and behind prison bars as I’ve discussed in the past.

I’ve wondered what a married person reading this might think. Can someone who has not experienced divorce imagine what it’s like to have your entire family, except you, go on a major vacation?

I had an insight as their vacation began. This week is a test. A trial. We have trials in our life, all carefully orchestrated, although many if not most will seem to be an unlucky throw of the dice. While my dearest possessions are away and enjoying themselves, can I remain faithful to my Father in Heaven? Will I keep sacred my covenants? Will I use my time wisely to read the scriptures, pray (for strength and peace!), and attend the temple? As I’ve done that in the past I’ve seen the blessings, the peace, the strength come in the following days and weeks. I look back over the time since my divorce, and my children have been blessed by a father who, as weak as he is, does his best to put the Lord first. I have a son who returned six months ago from a mission, a daughter leaving in eight days, and my two youngest ask if we can remember to have scripture study when we awake the next morning. (But not to say righteous children are a sign of a righteous parent; that is far from true–we can’t measure our success by our children. Many if not most good righteous LDS parents have children who have gone astray, two of mine included.)

Coming to my mind this week was also some wording from my patriarchal blessing: “You have a great mission to perform in this life, which will bring you back into the presence of the Lord. … You will become a faithful and loving father, for choice spirits from heaven will be given unto this union to train and educate in the ways of the Lord. … This will be your greatest mission in this life from which you will receive joy and happiness, which could be gained in no other way.”

The Light came to me this week that this does not necessarily mean that I am tasked with focusing on my children, but that I will be given strength outside myself to do so. Indeed, that has been the case. When my hope has run thin, when I am tired, weary, and unable, I have seen that the little efforts I put forth bring forth unexpected and glorious fruit, like volunteer tomatoes in the spring.

I pray that we all may remain true to our covenants, our God, and our Lord, in spite of the distractions, the temptations, the evils of the world, and the choices of others.

To my brothers in Israel,

Carl