I was driving down the highway, talking to my wife’s brother on the phone.
My wife had just confessed an extramarital affair and now the whole family knew. Her brother was furious. To my own surprise, I told him not to shut her out now because this was the time she would be needing her family’s support the most.
It was a weird feeling. I was simultaneously mad at her and protective of her. I wanted her to suffer and I wanted her to be okay. I was used to being the person who looked out for her wellbeing. You don’t just turn that off after six years of marriage. My default instinct was to protect her.
We eventually got divorced. It was the hardest experience of my life.
We didn’t hate each other. It might have been easier if we had.
Despite our arguments and sometimes harsh words and lack of kindness throughout our divorce, we still loved—even liked—each other.
Even so, we knew our marriage wouldn’t work out. We eventually received an annulment. We both picked up what was left of ourselves and moved on with our lives.
I haven’t spoken with my former wife in years, but I still wish the best for her. I still pray for her. And why not? What’s the alternative? Live in bitterness and resentment and hurt? Life is way too short.
Even when a relationship doesn’t work out as we hoped, I believe as Catholics we are called to love and want the best for the other person. That love looks different than it did before, of course. It often becomes something kinder, purer.
When I was suffering through it, I didn’t know of any personal examples to look at for a loving response in the face of pain.
But then I learned of someone from 600 years earlier.
In the 1400’s, a sixteen year-old girl in Italy named Seraphina married a widower named Alexander. When he returned from a war, he had an affair and forced Seraphina to live as a servant. It must have wounded her, but she accepted the situation and sought to live a holy life. This only made Alexander furious and he attempted to kill her. He eventually kicked young Seraphina out of the house and forced her to live with the Poor Clares.
Was Seraphina bitter? Maybe. Did she seek to hurt Alexander in return? No. Instead, she continuously prayed for his conversion. She chose to act in love toward him, even though their relationship was irreparably broken.
Seraphina eventually took vows as a nun. A while later, Alexander repented and found her at the convent. He asked Seraphina to forgive and return to him. She declined and continued her life as a nun. Today she is known as Blessed Seraphina Sforza. Alexander went on to live the rest of his life in solitude and repentance.
What if she had remained angry and refused to wish the best for her ex? What if I had?
Choosing to love can be hard, but it leads to holiness, for us and for others.
It doesn’t mean we will always like it or that we won’t still sometimes feel negative emotions. But love is a choice, often one we make over and over, every day, every hour if necessary.
Jesus told Peter to forgive his brother not just seven times, but seventy-seven times. In other words, don’t ever stop. Love covers a multitude of sins (1 Peter 4:8). It covers the trespasses others commit against us and it covers our own sinking into sinful desires for vengeance. It also reminds us that we are never completely faultless in the failure of a relationship. We have sinned too and we need forgiveness.
If you’re going through a difficult breakup, divorce, or the annulment process, know you’re not alone. I went through it. So did a young woman 600 years ago. And countless others. Pray and seek God for your healing, and choose to love your ex by praying for them and their wellbeing too.
