My parents were divorced when I was a young teenager, and I was

In the words of Michele Bachmann, we hear a testimony born not of theory but of lived experience: “My parents were divorced when I was a young teenager, and I was raised by a single mother after that. So, I understand the difficulties that families have. I understand single parenting.” These words are not spoken lightly, for they come from the crucible of loss, struggle, and endurance. They remind us that wisdom often arises not from ease, but from hardship; not from unbroken families, but from the fragments pieced together with courage.

The ancients knew that those who suffer trials are best suited to speak of strength. Job, who endured loss upon loss, spoke more truly of faith than those who judged him from comfort. So too does Bachmann’s testimony carry weight, for she did not merely observe the trials of single parenting from afar—she lived them. In her story, we hear the voice of countless children who grew up watching one parent carry the burden of two, and of countless mothers and fathers who bore those burdens with weary but unyielding hearts.

History gives us many such examples. Consider the story of President Andrew Jackson, who lost his father before he was born and his mother before he reached manhood. Raised without the security of a whole household, he endured poverty and hardship. Yet from that soil of sorrow grew resilience, grit, and a fierce independence that carried him to the highest office in the land. Like Bachmann, his childhood was marked by absence, yet it gave him a profound understanding of the difficulties of fractured families. From such roots often grow leaders who know not only power, but also empathy.

The meaning of Bachmann’s words is clear: to be raised by a single mother is to witness sacrifice daily. It is to see love stretched thin but still sufficient, to see resilience in the face of exhaustion. A child raised in such a home grows up knowing that strength does not always roar, but sometimes simply endures. And in that endurance lies a deeper form of love—the kind that shapes character, inspires gratitude, and awakens understanding.

The lesson for us is twofold. First, let us honor those who walk the road of single parenting, for their labor is doubled while their rest is halved. They are the unsung heroes who often feel invisible, yet without them families would collapse. Second, let us recognize that children of such homes carry unique wisdom. They have seen reality without its sugarcoating; they have learned early the truth that life is hard, but also that love is strong enough to endure hardship. Such children may walk into adulthood with scars, but also with gifts: empathy, perseverance, and resilience.

What, then, must we do? Let communities gather around single parents, offering support not only in words but in deeds—childcare, provision, encouragement. Let children of broken homes remember not only the sorrow of absence, but the heroism of presence, for one parent who stays and strives is worth a thousand who abandon. And let us all remember that to understand another’s burden, as Bachmann said she does, is to open the door to compassion.

O seekers of wisdom, remember this: brokenness is not the end of the story. A fractured home may yet produce whole souls. A weary mother may raise children who change the world. And a young teenager, once bewildered by divorce, may one day stand before others and say, with conviction, “I understand.” This is the power of lived truth—it transforms sorrow into testimony, and hardship into teaching.

Thus, Michele Bachmann’s words endure as both remembrance and exhortation. To those who walk the lonely path of single parenting, take heart: your labor is not unseen. To the children raised in such households, know this: your trials may yet become your strength. And to all who listen, let this be the lesson—out of brokenness may rise endurance, and out of endurance, wisdom to guide generations to come.