Mercy

Lord Have Mercy.

Thursday Afternoon Brenda pointed out the puddle by the washer again, but it wasn’t a leaking washer on the hose. Both hoses were dry. The water was coming from the machine itself.

Friday morning the repairman pointed out that the motor needed replacing, the there were some worn bushings, and the tub itself had worn a hole in its side. Brenda bought a used machine from him.

While she was waiting for him to arrive the hot water ran out while she was lathered up in the shower. Apparently it has been leaking for some time and it has rusted out. I suppose it wasn’t totally unexpected. We bought that water heater shortly after we moved into this house 17 years ago. So saturday we had a guy come out and replace the water heater.

He didn’t want to replace it. The old water heater was wired to to an old outlet that was over fifty years old, cloth insulation on the wire and a copper ground was clamped to a water line. Not up to code.

But I found an electrician willing to come out on a Saturday, and when I let the two servicemen speak to each other the water heater guy felt comfortable enough that we were going to get it wired properly, so he went ahead and installed the unit and saved us another service call.

The electrician showed up rather quickly. But the new wiring was larger than the old and couldn’t fit through the conduit. Good thing we were able to clear out the attic so he could run a line through there. So by Saturday night we were able to wash clothes and take a shower again.

It’s Sunday evening, and when I went to get Brenda and I a popsicle I found that everything in the freezer had thawed. The refrigerator has broken down. I messed with it a bit and now it appears to be running. We shall see if it it gets cold again.

Brenda thinks God is toying with us.

She tells me that she wants to run away, to be free and make the next twenty seven years different than the last twenty seven.

I don’t know what to tell her.

I think that I am a good man. She says I am. But I have my doubt. Natural I suppose. how can I be a good man if I can not have the love of my wife? how can I be a good man when nothing seems right and I wonder if in trying to save my marriage I am being selfish once again? How can I be a good man and feel so awful?

I still believe in God. I still believe that He is good and that he loves me and wants to help.

But Brenda has lost her faith.

I think I may lose her as well.

I told her that I believe in God, that the man I am today wants to follow that faith, to pray regularly, to go to church, to worship.

“What if I don’t want to go to church anymore?

“That is your choice.”

“Can you be happy with a wife who doesn’t believe in God?”

“I think you are having a crisis of faith. But no, you don’t have to believe the things I do. You are free to do what you want. Believe in God or don’t. Stay or go. I believe there is a place in your heart where you still love me. If you don’t want to let it grow, I can’t make you. As for your faith, Paul wrote about marriages between believers and nonbelievers. I can do what I need to do.”

Can a man be a good man who has not helped his wife enough that she could maintain her belief in a good God who loves, who cares, who tries to intervene on behalf of the selfish creatures he created?

Something in my heart tells me that there is a God, that He is good, that He loves me. Something tells me that a series of costly repairs is not a part of an evil joke played on our lives.

I simply haven’t the words to help her see the things I see.

Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy.

Good Grief

I’m one of those annoying morning persons.

I bounce out of bed, and bustle about making coffee, showering, scraping the fuzz on my cheeks (under the impression that a little facial scraping makes this ol’ mug of mine bearable).

Brenda shuffles about, trying to get her blood flowing and shake the resentment of being conscious after the bliss of sleep. I sing silly little songs, and if I am being especially insufferable, do a little dance. (I have most absurd dance moves, keeps my family in groans.)

I don’t really do a lot of groaning myself. There have been times when I groan internally and once in a while, when the heaviness in my heart makes it hard to step as lightly as I am normally wont, the groan slips out between my lips.

The year after Willy died that the internal groan slipped out quite a bit.

We had wanted children for so long. It was a constant ache. Every few weeks Brenda’s mood would let me know that her disappointment was fresh once again. That hasn’t ended.

We were talking quietly in the yard last night (I have been turning the weeds and vegetables over for Winter) and it came up again.

“I started my period today.”

I gave up on my portion of that dream long ago.

“I’m sorry.”

That longing for children has been carried in human hearts since before the first couple wandered out of The Garden.

That desire has dogged for over 27 years ago.

There were false joys. Twice she became pregnant. Each time she ended in the hospital, threatened by a tubal pregnancy.

On August 30th, 1992, on Brenda’s birthday, our first child was born. Though he was a touch fussy, we were very, very, very happy.

For three months and fifteen days.

I’ve talked with kids who have wondered how grownups gain their authority. What secret did their parents learn that made the mysteries of the adult world clear? What happened that changed them from ordinary people into grownups?

I tell such kids, every time I do a study skills program, that there was indeed such a moment, that there is a secret to being an adult. That someone did give them a special grownup secret. that I will tell them because they will not understand until it happens to them.

The secret to becoming a grownup is... them.

I tell them that there was a moment when their parents had someone walk up to them and hand them a baby and the whole universe shifted. They looked down at that baby and something clicked inside their heads and hearts. Suddenly they were no longer brother, or sister. They were no longer friend or son or daughter or employee or employer or any of the other appellations and roles they had carried for so long. All of that was shoved aside and they became... a parent. Their central identity was now mother or father.

I tell kids that their parents looked down at them, at their newborn bodies which were both so light and so heavy and saw a future of 18 or 20 years stretching out ahead in which they would have to help this tiny person who could not even work its hands enough to place food in its mouth, to become fully independent, fully able to go out into the world and find work and love and their own families.

It was a frightening moment when the fabric of the universe slipped out from under them and in the moment of internal vertigo they grasped a new identity.

I felt that joy. I have also felt its opposite.

That was a horrible moment in my life, that instant when I saw the blue lips of my child, when I frantically blew into his mouth and thumped emphatically yet gently at his little chest; that moment of three and a half months after the joy.

I walked numbly through the next few days. I was lost in confusion without sleep, without eating, without even the most basic responses to the needs of my body or reactions to the world outside of my breaking heart.

It was during year I learned a grief.

I felt destroyed inside.

I felt my life was empty, that I would never heal. I felt there wasn’t any point in looking forward to a future that no longer held the child whose entry into my life had changed my self image from an ordinary man to a father. My grief felt like a twisting spiky thing throbbing in my chest, all sharp edges, an odd shaped thing I could no longer bear to carry.

They pain was so deep I felt I could do anything, absolutely anything, to make the pain stop.

That lasted about a year.

I learned a lot of valuable lessons that year. Some right away, some are still coming to me.

One lesson came on the three month anniversary of Willy’s death. You can read about that here.

In general the year was painfully numbing, and oddly, painfully expansive.

Out of that experience with death I began to see the suffering in the world around me. I felt surges of emotion when I read about those who starve and weaken and die. There was a visceral reaction to news of famine and war and horrible diseases which cause so much suffering.

At the same time I felt greater joy than I had before. I was lifted by sunrises and rainbows and the life flowing throughout the world. I became ever more thrilled in the act of worship and in seeing the good that flows from the Hand of God.

It’s as if the emotional horizons of my heart were expanded. I felt greater sorrow and greater joy after the death of my first child.

Grief is a normal human experience. It surprises the adult who thinks he has felt all there is to feel.

Even our Lord, member of the Triune God, experienced the shock of grief:

When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled.

"Where have you laid him?" he asked.

"Come and see, Lord," they replied.

Jesus wept.

Then the Jews said, "See how he loved him!"

But some of them said, "Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?"
Jesus Raises Lazarus From the Dead

Jesus, once more deeply moved, came to the tomb.
--John 11:33-38

Beautiful mystery. Divinity constrained by flesh. What a wonder that the Lord God can feel grief just like His mortal servants.

I think in grief there is an element of the loss of dreams, of expected experience in coming to the realization that we are entering the Desert of Loss.

I felt grief over the realization my children are mentally handicapped and they are incapable of learning the things I had hoped to teach them.

I felt grief over my wife’s first affair.

I feel grief over this current one.

I grieve that our marriage will never be quite what I thought it would be. I grieve over the hurts that are revealed by my wife’s confusion, anger, and desire for freedom. I grieve over the future I had imagined, for it has died.

A sad thing. A sad thing, for the vision was beautiful. But like all human visions it was a product of imagiination, perhaps of hope and love and longing as well, but primarily a product of imagination.

Perhaps the state I find myself in is a healthy thing. I have no clear idea of what my future will be. I know there will be a lot of change in it from thevision I had. But everything adapts. Everything changes.

“Change is growth, and growth is painful.” --Albert Einstein

If I can protect my heart as I change, allow it to grow rather than wither, then it will be OK.

It is OK to have vision. It is OK to try and to fail. It is OK to grieve.

To love is to take a chance at being hurt. I love my wife. I don’t know if she will be by my side in a year.

But I can love her anyway. Take the chance. Maybe the future will be better than I can imagine. Maybe I will be hurt.

Joy is its own reward.

Grief brings the blessing of growth.

I’ll keep running at that football, hoping it will be there when I kick with all my might. If it isn’t... well I guess I’ll just lay in the grass a little bit, catch my breath, and take joy in the quiet blue sky.

Miracles

Rocky flopped in the grass, pointing his legs in the air and wiggling back and forth, enjoying the good scratch while giving us that goofy grin of his.

"He always enjoys every bit of life," Brenda said.


He does. He runs and plays and rolls around and grins constantly. He acts more like a six month old dog than one of seven years.

-----------------

Yesterday was a big day. We went to check out a group home for Jeremiah.

Though it seemed clean, and he would be provided with a room with its own half bath and fed well, there really wasn't anything there for him. The living room held a tv set and a horseshoe shape arrangement of couches.

The people running it, a brother and sister, are from Ethiopia. Their accents a little thick. There was something unsettling about them I couldn't quite put my finger on.

They seemed confused about our questions about Jeremiah going outside. They spoke about the basketball court at the nearby church, but the idea of enjoying the outdoors didn't register to them. Their lawns were mowed, but the grass was brown. It takes very little effort to have a green lawn in Oregon. Water once a week in July and it will be fine.

I did my best to not pay too much attention to the woman. She was well endowed and her tight blouse barely contained her... assets. Brenda told me later that one of her nipples was partially exposed the whole time.

We took the long way home, driving through the country, and quickly agreed that it was not the place for Jeremiah. It was a house and not a home. The only other current resident was a female who seemed nearly catatonic. He would have no friends there.

As we were entering Newberg Brenda cleared her throat.

"I guess I will do my best at being a family again."

"Are you saying what I think you are saying?

"Yes," she said quietly.

We stopped at a pub. She had a few beers. I had a couple of drinks. We talked about the mess we are in. She regrets what she will have to tell this other man.

We talked about Jeremiah needing more training to be ready for the outside world. We spoke in terms of one to three years.

Things became a little lighter for a while.

We went home. Put our kids to bed.

We were lying in bed and she sighed...

"I want to enjoy life. I want to feel every bit of it. I want to run wild and free."

She grew quiet. I knew she was thinking about the other man.

Lying in the dark I knew she was crying.

"Do you want me to hold you?"

"No."

I waited a little while, slipped out and slept on the couch.

She has been moody today. I know she feels trapped, She has been saying things about what a good man I am. She said that this other guy told her I must be a good man because of the way I have been handling all of this.

-----------------

I spoke with my pastor the other day about my sense of evil spirits, that there has been something lurking about our home, and especially Jeremiah, for some time. I don't like to think about such things. I really avoid it. But there has been some strange things going on.

A woman came up to me after church and said that our pastor had spoken to her husband about my concerns and that they would be helping us in that area soon.

I don't like accepting the possibility of such realities, but there has been some strange things going on...

-----------------

After church Brenda and I were in the backyard. I'm working my way through the old weeds and plants, turning everything over for winter.

I gave her a hug, pressed my nose into her hair. She looked up at me.

"I'm sorry."

The words were heartfelt. The first real apology she has given me for the current mess.

-----------------

We took Isaac into Portland this afternoon for a maintenance session on his dreadlocks. He looks good.

When we returned there was blood streaks spread along some of the walls inside the house. Nothing on the dog. Nothing anywhere else. No little half dismembered critter in the yard. No injuries on the dog. No spots ofblood on the floors. Creepy.

-----------------

I think our marriage may find a way to heal. Brenda has spoken about telling this man she needs to break it off and that she will have to find another job. She is depressed.

I believe that the prayers of my friends, and of strangers as well, has begun a miracle in the heart of my wife.

There is a very long ways to go.

She still needs a miracle to clean her heart.

Our home may need a miracle as well.

Jeremiah needs a miracle.

My heart needs healing.

There is a lot of work to do.

I have trouble accepting the reality of evil. But it really is the flip side of accepting divine goodness.

I know that my Lord has begun a work of miracles in this home.

"...because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." --Philippians 1:6-7

He began miracles in my home. He will complete it.

Success

I guess I am a successful educator.

Of the various indicators, most of them seem to reflect that I do my job fairly well.

This is my tenth year in this school. The steady, consistent improvement of my craft makes me feel good about what I do for a living.

My students like me. They return years later saying, writing, and sending nice things indicating I have made a difference.

My superiors like me. They support the various projects I do, the programs I run, and seem to always be asking me to go to some conference, teach or demonstrate some concept or skill, or praise me for some silly little thing I managed to accomplish.

My colleagues seem to appreciate my input, and value the work I do.

I like the successes I see in my work. I love seeing the light bulbs metaphorically appearing over the heads of my charges. I find joy in creating good programs and curriculum.

My professional success is all the sweeter because there has been so many jobs and goals I have set that did not work out well at all.

I was a milkman, a cook, a graphic artist, a heavy equipment operator, film developer, magazine editor, construction estimator, a dishwasher, insulation installer, salesman, laborer, and hermit. I have raised animals for food, and I have survived on wild plants. Nothing I have ever done has been met with the success, honors, and personal enjoyment I find in being a middle school teacher.

I have not been so successful in other areas of my life. I have not been the perfect father, or the perfect son. I certainly have not been the perfect husband.

Yet I have loved deeply.

The risk in loving deeply is that one can be hurt deeply.

Lately I have found I have lost the love of the one person I most value. It is a commodity that cannot be bought nor sold. It means more to me than just about anything else, even life itself.

There was another time I was deeply hurt. Our first child died while in my care at three and a half months old. I cannot think about that terrible event with my breath becoming ragged, my heart racing a little. It is a bit like the way I feel now under these current circumstances.

In thinking about professional success and how much I value the love of my wife I am reminded of something in scripture.

But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. --Philippians 3:7-9

I am a fool. I have filled my mind and heart with the wisdom of men, and even of angels, yet have not seen clearly the life I have been living, the pain of my wife, a blindness springing from self-centeredness. I haven’t seen or applied the balms of healing I should have provided her.

With the recognition of the loss of the heart of my wife I hold all my successes in contempt. And taking it the next step along with the apostle, I see that even her love pales in the light of knowing Jesus.

I was given a blessing the other day. I was permitted to feel a sense of peace within the turmoil of my heart. Even days later when hints of anxiety creep about the edges of my life, that peace is still abiding deep in my heart.

Like most things I have seen coming from God it isn’t evidence I can demonstrate to others of His real presence, but it is enough to buoy my heart, to lift my eyes to horizons which lie beyond this sea of wind-whipped waves which lift me up and then sink me down.

...the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. --Genesis 1:2

Perhaps I cannot feel anything beneath my feet while I tread water... but that does not mean I am alone. I know I am not alone. I know there are many praying for me... I know there are many who care.

I also know that hovering above the waters is my Lord:

...But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, "Lord, save me!"

Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. "You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?" --Matthew 14:30-31

Lately I have felt that hand, and though I am still waist deep and fearfully shoved by the currents in my life... the grip is strong.

Better

I’m feeling a bit better.

Don’t get me wrong, I still haven’t a clue if I will still be married in a year, or even six months. But I feel better.

I was getting very anxious about things. I was depressed, having trouble sleeping even with medication, and have lost 23 pounds in the last few weeks. I became especially anxious when I started thinking about this other guy enough to go to the trouble of figuring out who he is. I also became a little more lost when I accompanied Brenda into small vices (alcohol and tobacco) so we would have those moments to share and talk.

I’m not so troubled about the other guy right now. He is nobody. Well, he is someone, and I do wish him happiness, and salvation, and health, and blah, blah, blah. But I know that Brenda picked him out as a way to fantasize about a life of freedom from the burdens which have troubled her. He isn’t anyone which God chose for her. This does not mean that I do not believe she will go to him. She may. But him or someone like him, it doesn’t matter. He is a symptom of the wounds which have hurt my wife deeply. He is a placebo to medicate the internal hemorrhaging which has been going on in her since she was a child.

I’m not so troubled by the alcohol and the tobacco either. Though I was sharing those things with her for good reasons, they aren’t me. I can take them or leave them. I’m not going to make a habit of such things just to find time to be with her.

None of this is in my hands.

Whether she stays or whether she goes, that will be her choice.

I vowed that I would stay by her. I will.

I vowed I will love her all of my life. I will.

I made that vow not only to her, and family and friends. I vowed to God. I made a covenant to God that I would be what I could be, was made to be, to her and for her.

I haven’t always been successful at that. I have let her down many times.

But what I choose to do today, to do this moment, is what counts.

I choose to follow God and trust He will lead me to the place where I will be the man He created me to be.

I am reminded that there were three persons involved in making those vows. I made a vow. Brenda made a vow. And God was who we made that covenant in and to. What Brenda does is not simply a reflection on who I am as a husband. It is also within His hands to deal with it.

She is His child as well.

Her vow was made to Him as well.

He will not abandon her, even if she seeks to abandon Him.

I trust the Lord to watch over my wife, even if there comes a time when I cannot.

I will intentionally drop my curiosity about this other man. It does not matter who he is.

I will do my best to drop my concerns about what Brenda will do as well (yeah, I know: "Good luck with that.").

Instead, I will continue to love her, to cherish her, to do all the things that I swore I would do.

It has been dark of late. I am fixing my eyes on the Shepherd who holds the light for me in this darkness.

I see that not only is He holding a light for me...

He is holding me...

and her.

Lord Have Mercy

I seriously provide that caution. This is a little ugly.


Life is messy.

I have been trying to do the right thing, listen to the Shepherd’s voice, follow His lead.

This means being patient and loving and standing firm to what I know is right, even when, especially when, I want to behave differently.

Sometimes that isn’t as clear as I would have thought.

We had a bad night Thursday. Brenda even packed to leave.

But it passed.

Friday night was also a little rough. But it has been worse. She seemed moody, I gave her space.

Saturday we went on a couple of walks, and though the conversations were overall kind and understanding, there were deep currents hinting at the deep problems facing our relationship. In the afternoon Brenda came to me with two beers in her hands, offering me one.

I don't really drink. Over the past month or so I have tried to do some drinking, but I just don’t feel like getting drunk. I bought a bottle of merlot. I only drank half of it. A couple of weeks later I bought a six pack of beer. Only drank two. A couple weeks after that I bought a bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream. I did get a little tipsy after four of those, but I stopped when I started to feel it. The other day I bought a small bottle of whiskey. Had a couple of drinks, put it away. This evening I have had two more. I don't want another. Getting drunk isn’t my thing.

I was surprised to see she had two bottles since it would have been five years this January 1st since she had any alcohol. She has been going to AA all that time. She told me that Friday night she had drank two bottles of beer and took five of her mom’s codeine.

So we had the beers.

I was unsure if I was doing the right thing drinking with her, but she had already taken that step the day before. It was her choice, not mine. I went out with her into the backyard and had the beer. Before too long she had done in the rest of the six pack and wanted to get more. I complied.

She wanted to get drunk. I was enabling her. Telling her she shouldn't drink wasn’t a fight I wanted to pick.

She bought a pack of cigarettes. I went ahead and bought a small pack of cigars. I haven’t smoked in five years. I felt a little like I was joining her in a series of small vices.

We walked around the cemetery where our child is buried. We sat by his grave and talked.

There are a lot of things which tie her to this life with me. Some of it is red tape surrounding the whole mess in trying to get our children legalized. There were things overlooked in the adoption of our two mentally handicapped children from Haiti. It has resulted in Brenda being named their sponsor, them having to stay with us, and her not being able to earn too much or else they would not be able to get benefits from the government for their handicaps without risking a lawsuit from the government.

Did you catch that? She cannot earn too much, so she must work only part time, or jeapordize our children’s future. That makes it a moral choice if she moves out and gets a job that will support her.

In that talk beside Willy’s grave she made clear implicit statements that she would have to stay, not run away, though she desperately yearns to do so.

She told me that she wants to make love with abandon, no inhibitions. I told her I wanted that too.

We kissed, almost like we were truly in love. It was a little forced.

I told her the kiss almost made me feel that I was worth something after all. I shared that though I know I have been blessed with many things, without the love of the person I am in love with nothing seems to have value.

That night we tried to pretend that everything was as it should be.

I tucked the boys into bed, prayed over them. Crawled into bed beside my wife.

It became clear she felt that being amorous with me was to her felt almost a betrayal of her love for another.

I can’t express how that made me feel.

As we were becoming more amorous in bed, she suddenly tried to speed things up, get it over with. I told her I wanted to slow down. She burst into tears.

She did not want a long love making session.

She told me that if I wanted sex she could do that, but she did not want more.

“I do want sex,” I said, “but I really want more than that.”

“It’s all I can do for now.”

We had perfunctory sex. I got the relief I wanted but not the passion and love I need. she got nothing.

I apologized for trying to push her into something her heart was not ready to give.

“It’s OK. I I know you are only hoping. But I just want to become numb and maybe someday I can pretend I am happy with this life. We can have sex now and then, but most of the time you might be better off just using your hand.”

Shit.

She feels she is being unfaithful to someone else!

A part of me thinks that it would be easier to kick her out, let her go to the love she wants.

This is such a mess.

And here I am, drinking with her, even smoking cigarettes with her, trying to find a place where we can talk and find each other.

What is a little vice in the face of finding common ground so I can be with my wife? Why do I feel like I am not being true to who I am supposed to be when I am just trying to find a spacce in our lives that we can share?

For a little while this morning during worship I was able to find that sweet presence with my Lord. But overall I feel I am mired in a mess that just keeps getting thicker.

She is getting to a place where she is willing to set aside her feelings for another man so she can do the right thing for our kids, and maybe even for me. I am for the first time in all this mess feeling that we might be able to work it out after all.

She suggested Saturday that Isaac and I get a membership at the local gym. It would be good for him, and for me, and for us to bond a little. (The pshycologist’s evaluation came in last week and that poor boy has some serious problems. Another mess.) I told her I’m reluctant to add to our bills, especially if we lose her part of our income to the household. She said she would be willing to pay for it, even if she moved out.

I think somewhere deep inside her is still a spark of love for me.

Shit.

Heavenly Father. Lord Jesus. Please help me. Help me to do what is right. Help me to make good choices. Permit me to feel You near. GUIDE ME LORD! I am Yours. All I want is to do what is right. And though I feel hope, I still feel very confused. I am Your servant. Please do not leave me in darkness but guide me so I may guide my family. I love You Lord. Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. --Amen.

A Light in the Woods

I'm home a little early from work. Brenda isn't here. I have no idea what to expect when she does get home.

Last night was tough.

And bizarre.

We were watching a television game show. The contestant's wife announced she was pregnant. Brenda went ballistic. She started swearing and screaming and and throwing things and soon was packing to leave. She has wanted to bear children so badly.

I told her she should wait to leave until morning, that then she could get what she wanted, do it right. She replied she would probably change her mind if she waited until morning.

"Then it makes no sense to do something rashly now that you know you will feel differently about when you cool down."

"I hate my life!!! I want out!!!"

She slowly, resentfully, unpacked, went to sleep on the couch.

She had told me earlier that if she met me today she would not fall in love with me, we are too different.

But...

At four in the morning she crawled into bed, snuggled close.

I have no clue what is going on.

I finished that experiment with the watercolor pens and am posting it here. I haven't gotten the hang of the materials yet. I am a little unsatisfied with the image on a technical level. But the spiritual aspect of the painting... the straggling sheep, hesistating to walk through the skirting, threatening darkness, the prayers which cover the entire image, that feels right. (If you have an idea about a title for it, let me know.)

I may not know what is going on, where the path leads, but I will trust Jesus. I will follow His light and trust that I will be OK. (Though it certainly does not feel that way.)

Click to enlarge

The Heart of a Woman

The Bible speaks about how Pharaoh's heart was hardened.

Have you struggled over that concept?

Are some people destined to be sacrificial lambs on the altar of humanity’s salvation? Are some people moved by God to fall away from Him?

Brenda and I are polite to each other. Almost kind. But it is very businesslike. The sense is that we are working toward a short term goal which will permit her to flee my home and run into the arms of another man.

As she prepared to go to sleep in the living room I asked her to talk for a few minutes.

“It feels like you have already closed the door to the possibility that we can work things out,” I said.

“I don’t see how we can.”

“I think you are making a mistake. I think that someday you will regret this.”

“Maybe. But if I stayed, what would you do if I did this again in five years?”

“I think you will. I think that unless you find the parts deep inside of you that hurt you so much, that unless you are healed of the deep sorrows in your heart, you will fail again. You will abandon the next relationship, and the one after that. You need to be healed in ways that the infatuation you feel for this other man cannot fix.”

“Maybe. But he makes me feel something I don’t feel for you anymore.”

“That is infatuation and lust. It will pass. He does not love you the way I love you.”

“No, he is better.”

“I don’t think so. He has only been with you when things are easy. He has only been with you for the fun and the excitement. He hasn’t been there in the tough times. He wasn’t there for you when Willy died. He wasn’t there to comfort you when you had your tubal pregnancy, when you had your surgeries. He hasn’t been there through the tears and anger and frustrations and disappointments. He hasn’t been there to stand firm when it seemed the whole world was falling apart.”

She stood there for a moment beside the bed. She leaned over and gave me a quick peck on the forehead, like one would give a child or an uncle.

Her heart is hardened. She stands on the hope that she can soon run away from the responsibilities of being a mother and a daughter and... a wife.

I truly believe she will be very unhappy if she follows this path.

Isn’t the heart the place that the Lord performs His greatest miracles? Isn’t that the place where He dwells within us? Isn’t that the place where we hear His voice and know the certainty of His sovereignty?

It is Brenda’s heart that needs healing. It is there that the pain of her childhood abuse still bleeds. It is there that she is running wild through open fields toward another man who is probably more fantasy than reality, standing with open arms. It is there that the faintest flicker of her love for me still glows in gathering darkness. It is there she needs a miracle.

“Heavenly Father... It is in my own heart that I most ache. I pray Lord that You gentle me, draw me near, guide my steps. Lord, I beg for a healing miracle in my wife’s heart. Please Lord... guide her to a safe place. I can accept that it may not be with me. I desperately pray that You gentle her heart so she may draw near to You. Bring her to her knees, so she may seek You and see Your truth. Please Lord, I beg, miraculously heal her of her deepest hurts. I pray also for this man, John, that You touch his heart. I pray that he finds a way to draw near to You. Send him people he will listen to, people who can counsel him on his spiritual life, and help him to see that the choices he makes not only affect this family of mine, but his own eternity. Bless him Lord that he may find you. Lord, bless my children, especially Isaac who has questions but does not want to voice them yet. Protect my children Lord. Help me to be the father they need. Lead me Lord. Tell me what You would have me do and I will obey. --Amen.”

High Road

I don’t understand her.

Bits and pieces are little clearer than others, but in general, I admit, I haven’t a clue.

Something shifted in my heart this weekend. It hurts... but I think it helps a little.

I came to the conclusion that Brenda truly wants out. That she has no intention of working on our marriage. She is biding her time to deal with these legal issues with Jeremiah, and she will be gone.

It makes me more than a little sad.

But it also helps me to see where I am standing in this present darkness.

A marriage takes two people. I am willing to work to help her, to resolve the issues she has, to seek ways to help her become who God wants her to be. But if she is determined to leave, I cannot stop that. She will live the life she chooses.

I told her this morning to go ahead and move out.

I told her that the agreement was that we would hold things together until the difficulties of Jeremiah’s situation is resolved. I told her not to worry about us, we will manage one way or another.

The other option is I leave.

She doesn’t want to deal with the kids or her mother or me. Of all those burdens and obligations I am the easiest to remove. So perhaps it would be easier if I did so.

I think it would be harder on the boys for me to go rather than her because she sees them as burdens and problems and I don’t. But...

I’ve started a new prayer.

There will be an Advent art show at our church: “Life and Light Through Jesus.”

I’ve been doing artish prayers using Sharpies on the prayer room walls at church. Now I am trying something new. I bought some watercolor paper and water color pens. Last night I sketched out a picture of Jesus as a shepherd holding a torch on a darkening mountainous path. He is beckoning to a straggling member of his flock, coaxing it to follow the rocky path.


It is how I feel right now. This rocky path is dark and dangerous and I’m frightened to move ahead. I need to fix my eyes on where He is leading and not worry about the dangers around me.

Today I despair. I believe my marriage will end. Brenda is afraid of taking the plunge into the world outside our marriage, so she hesitates, feels the tug of commitments and obligations to our children as obstacles. But she has already left that path. I cannot force her to join me again as I travel toward where my Lord leads.

I am trying to take the high road here. I suppose that phrase comes from the fact that the path along a valley floor is usually gentler, less work, but the path along a ridge is steeper, more ups and downs, yet has the larger view.

I want to take that high road and walk this path with integrity. I want to make wise choices, do the right thing.

I want to take the high road. I want to do what is right. So here I am, struggling along this rocky slope, seeking high ground.

Ah...

Look, I can see my house from here!

And it’s on fire.

Perhaps I shouldn’t worry too much about how far ahead I can see. I’ll just focus on the shepherd holding the torch.

New Ground Rules and a Ray of Hope

On Tuesday we had just the sixth graders here at our middle school. It was yesterday, Wednesday, when we started the full blown start of school.

I kept busy, which was good for me, focussing on my craft, teaching kids. The first meeting between students and teacher is important, it lays the foundation for many future interactions, and it is the tone set then that can dictate the “personality” of a class. So I was busy.

But my thoughts did return when they had a moment here and there to the domestic issues I am facing. We had a counseling session scheduled immediately after school ended.

Brenda was here to pick me up, and once in the car we rushed the 15 miles we needed to traverse in 30 minutes. On the way she told me about her day.

It was encouraging that she had a Christian CD playing, one given her by a concerned friend from our church. She has been avoiding such music lately.

She had news. She was going to take her mother to tour an assisted living facility in our community and had gotten herself ready a little early. Just as she was about to leave her mom called, out of breath.

My mother in law had fallen on her back porch, had not been able to get up on her own, and had lain for 45 minutes with her feet propped up on the ridges of the sliding glass door and her head in the flower bed two steps down until someone heard her and came to help.

She is pretty bruised up, but no broken bones. Brenda spent the afternoon with her to be sure she did not fall asleep with a possible concussion.

We spoke about that for a little while as she drove a little more aggressively than I liked toward our weekly counseling session.

These sessions tend to stir things up, and though we have found them beneficial for helping us in our situation, they leave us feeling pretty bruised. I think we were a little more hopeful of this one because we have been talking a slight more hopefully lately, entertaining the possibility of reconciliation.

We arrived in time, and Brenda spoke first about her concerns for her mother, about perhaps getting an emergency call button she can wear, and the general challenges and burdens that caring for this prematurely aged woman has on her and our home.

When it was my turn to speak, to share how I felt, I spoke about her phone calls to this other man. I shared how this dancing on the fence is an acrobatic feat that I cannot do for too long. That my heart races, that I have trouble sleeping, that I have trouble concentrating, that I feel the urges to act the way I saw “real men” act when I was a child.

She spoke about how the legal issues for gaining citizenship for our children, especially Jeremiah, and the constant supervision he requires, the main reason she is still here.

He asked her what she would do if that problem was suddenly removed.

She did not want to answer. She hesitated a long while, and then answered that she loved this other man and that she would leave.

He asked me what I wanted her to do.

I said I wanted her to break it off clean, and for her to really give our marriage a fair chance to heal.

He asked me if I would be willing to help her resolve Jeremiah’s situation so that she would be free to make a choice without strings attached.

I said: “No.”

I said that I was willing to work on that to the best of my ability, to help Jeremiah become what he needs to be, to help take this burden off of Brenda, but not for the purpose of removing an obstacle to her abandoning our marriage. I would do it because it was the right thing to do, but I would not abandon my vows of sticking with her through everything that came our way. If in helping to resolve this situation she used it as an opportunity to leave, that would be her choice, not mine.

We talked about the ground rules we already had, that she would not meet with this man outside of work, and that I felt she had found a loophole in being able to call him. I also said that I knew she and he were making opportunities to bump into each other at work. I told him that it was an intolerable situation for me, one that I cannot live under.

Brenda was asked if she would be willing to stop all contact except incidental, accidental contact with him for as long as we are resolving these issues with Jeremiah. After a tremendously long pause she agreed.

I was asked if I would do all that I could to assist Brenda in resolving these housing and legal issues with Jeremiah. I said that I would honestly do my best, though I knew it placed my marriage at risk.

We drove home in near silence. She ejected the Christian CD. We listened to a local jazz station.

While we were fixing dinner she said that she felt she had been forced to choose between this other man and me and that it made the decision sound much more clear-cut than she felt.

We had pork roast for dinner. Afterward, she wanted to wash the dishes, alone. I went into the bedroom, grabbed the latest issue of Scientific American and began reading. I could feel the fatty meat in my shrunken stomach, and knew I should go for a walk to digest it better (I have decided to get fit and am eating better and exercising). She said she wanted to go with me to walk our dog, and she’d like to stop and check on her mom.

At Mary’s apartment I looked at the bruises on her arms. I gave her a soft hug which I could tell made her feel very good. Everyone needs love.

She was barefoot, getting ready for bed, and her toenails were long, narrow, thick... one was so long I could see it was pushing aside her flesh as it curled around. Brenda saw it to.

As I sat in a nearby chair looking at the smashed place in her flower garden, Brenda knelt on the floor beside her mother and gave her a pedicure. That image of her on her knees, helping her mother...

We left.

“Sometimes I find it hard to continue to be a servant to others,” she told me.

We had a long walk, about four miles, through the afternoon and into the first gloom of the evening. The path became dark enough we had trouble seeing potholes.

We both feel that the counseling session had been wrenching. She had agreed to put aside her feelings for this other man for an indefinite time, perhaps six months, while we work through these issues, and I had promised to help speed the process along.

We fell asleep, our backs separated by that vast distance a California King size bed and of two hearts beating over very different concerns can create.

The alarm went off. I had a half hour to get ready and go. Instead we talked.

“I’ve exaggerated things,” she said to me.

“How?”

“I’ve said that you haven’t done anything for raising our children, but I know you have done a lot. I have focussed on the things that I wanted you to do that didn’t happen and didn’t mention the things you have done.”

“That’s OK.”

“I also said that this relationship with this other guy is about love. And at first it was really just about sex.”

Silence.

I needed to say something.

“I know that this is going to be a hard day for you. I know that you will be seeing him, and that you have something you need to say that you don’t want to say. I will be praying for you today. Whatever happens, I want the best for you.”

“I know you do. Thank you.”

So there it is. I am praying for my wife. That she is able to put up boundaries at her work that will help to strengthen our marriage.

Who knows if we can come back from this? I suppose He does.

Still... this is a difficult situation. But there is a ray of hope.

Heavenly Father... I pray for my wife. Please put a hedge of protection around her. Help her to be strong and be true. Please, I beg you my Lord, my Master, send a messenger to whisper in her ears words of encouragement, strength and wisdom. Bless my wife today. And Lord... please bless this other man. Please help him to see the value in Brenda staying true to her vows, returning to her vows, and that he will sense how he needs to give her space to find her true path. he may hope that it leads back to him, but help him to see that if their love is true that a few months will not stop what they might have, but that if it is false, that she needs to go her own path, in a direction away from him. Bless this situation lord. give me strength and wisdom tonight as I speak with her after this trying day. Bless my home Lord. I am Yours and will obey you. Lead me Lord Jesus. I beg this, I offer this petition in the name of the Alpha and the omega, my Shepherd and LORD, Jesus Christ. --Amen.”

Wuss

At what point does a man cease being a patient, loving, Christ-follower, and becomes a spineless wuss?

Is it tied to events? If this happens, he does that. If she says such and such he responds by doing this or that?

Is it tied to the heart? He listens to that space where he finds peace and solace from the Holy Spirit and works to build and repair and love and forgive and improve?

Is it a matter of his character? And if so, what character? The parts of himself he recognizes as echoes of the men of his childhood, those who pretended to know what to do when they hadn’t a clue, who yelled when angry, and resolved their conflicts with a volatile mixture of muscle and testosterone? Or the part of his character that felt beauty in all things, the part that responds to sunrises and deep valleys and roaring rivers, the part of himself which walked hundreds of miles of mountain trails and saw the Creator in the universe?

My wife said yesterday that she knew she had to tell this other man that they had to break it off. She said that what makes it so hard is that she loves him.

She said she loves me as well, but not the same way.

“Ouch.”

Or rather... “Shit!”

The obligations she feels for our children, the complex legal mess they are in, tells her she must stay.

The obligations she feels for her mother, a woman with schizophrenia and the lasting effects of a stroke, tells her she must stay.

The obligations she feels for me, who has stuck by her for years, though I have not provided all she yearns for, but is “a good man who I don’t want to hurt,” tells her she must stay.

She feels trapped in a cage.

I don’t want to be one of the bars of her cage. Especially the one that is easiest to walk away from.

If I were a bookie I’d give this marriage four to one odds.

Whoopee. Looks like I might “win.” What I need for her is a spiritual cleansing that will renew her spirit, wash away the filth and hurt that has caused her to obsess and control and... stray.

She should get the counseling that would help her heal, she should get the help that I can offer, but she needs more.

She needs a miracle.

I must find a way to maintain my faith that “all things work for good for those..." who need to find a way out of this thick briar patch that is in the darkest part of this ancient wood.

I need to find a way to toss aside my concerns about who I am, woos or obedient servant, and simply follow what my Lord would have me do.

There is a whisper that comes to my ear several times a day:

“Let her go.”

It is easy to pretend I don’t hear it.

“Let her go. What is the matter with you, you a spineless wuss?”

My heart begins to race, my legs want to move...

“You could find someone new. Someone you could trust.”

I stuff metaphorical fingers into my ears and chant: “Nyah, nyah nyah... I can’t hear you! Nyah, nyah, nyah, the Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want, He leads me...”

I guess I don’t care if I’m a woos. I do care that my heart races and that I am jumpy and nervous and having trouble sleeping. But I have been telling Brenda the same thing I have been telling myself:

“Whether you stay, or whether you go, I will do what is right every step of the way. I will deal with this with integrity. I will act with strength but not violence. I will love you and I will do what I know my faith would have me do.”

Not Feeling Very Clever

My feelings are complex.

I've tried writing a post. Twice.

So, rather than try to be clever, try to make sense of what I am feeling and what it all means... I'm going to just sit here and let it all pour out as it may come.

Thursday was Brenda's birthday. Imagine my standing at row of birthday cards for men to give their wives, attempting to select a card that honestly expresses how I feel. Romantic? Not a good choice. Funny? Nope. Recall good times? Sexy? Something about my undying affections? Nope, nah, nyet.

When she came home from work she was obviously upset.

I tried to give her space. I went out to do some weeding in the garden.

When I did come back, she suddenly burst into tears, groaning under the strain of being trapped by the responsibilities she has for taking care of her mother, for helping get our boys out of this legal mess with their U.S. citizenship.

"I CAN'T GO!!!"

She wept into my shoulder.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

I barely slept Thursday night. About three hours. They have only given me enough meds that I can use them two out of three days and I try to conserve. She took four over the counter pills and slept fitfully.

We went out Friday night for her birthday. Someplace a little out of our price range. We both had lobster.

The tension all day had been high.

But we seemed relaxed during dinner, and walked around a mall, people watching.

I think she is inclined to make our marriage work. But she still feels something for this other man. It is very confusing for both of us.

I want her to stay. I want to see her healed of all her past hurts and for her to grow into the kind of person God intended her to be.

For some reason, today I have been intensely jealous. I can't seem to stop thinking about this other guy.

I even did a little clever research and analyzing of stuff I probably shouldn't have scanned, and I think I know who he is.

Do you suppose this is how God feels? Even a little bit? The Bible does say He is a jealous God.

He loves us, wants the best for us, and we run everywhere else. We cheat on Him. Over and over and over and over...

Anyway... Brenda is out shopping with the boys... you know, school stuff.

And I am pacing about, wanting to gorge myself on chocolate ice cream or whiskey or something. I want to do something. I don't want to be one of the bars on her cage.

If she is going to stay it is all going to be so hard... so messy.

I even went through her things this afternoon. Found nothing. Well, I found an unused pregnancy test.

Yesterday, in a moment of emotional lucidity, I wrote an outline for a book.

Brenda is losing her faith. She feels that God is either uncaring, cruel, or non-existent.

I believe otherwise.

So, in thinking about her perspective, about the difficulties which have plagued her life (abuse, infertility, death of a child, schizophrenic mother who never cared after her as she should have been cared for but now requires so much care herself, two mentally retarded children who have complex legal problems, one child who is fascinated by fire and burned down our church, her shame over her affairs, on and on and on...), I thought of how I would answer her questions in a way that shows the reality of a loving God.

And since from her perspective life is unfair and harsh, I came up with a title that would directly address her glass half empty point of view: Why life Sucks.

I don't know if she is going to leave or if she is going to stay. I don't think she knows either. But she was gentle and kind last night and that is hopeful.

Meanwhile... I need to reign in my emotions, gain my spiritual balance, and be the husband I am supposed to be.

God may be jealous. But He loves us beyond human reasoning. I need to follow that lead.