Listening

I awoke in the middle of the night. Brenda snored softly, cuddling close.

There were no sounds from Jeremiah’s room on the other side of the wall, no sounds from Isaac’s room on the other side of the ceiling. I kissed Brenda’s head, went back to sleep.

I awoke again, the glow of the numbers on the clock told me it was not quite 3:00 a.m. The house was quiet. The elders of our church had been over the evening before, prayed over our family, prayed over each of my sons in their bedrooms. I felt no threat. Brenda’s breath was a soft gentle beat to a peaceful night. I touched her hand. She rolled over, clutched my arm, her briefly interrupted pace of soft breathing deepened.

I stared into the darkness, praying for my family.

I awoke again. The clock read 4:30. It would brighten in a half hour, music would gently swing up out of the silence.

“I love you,” I whispered to her.

She mumbled something softly, pressed her face into my neck.

I closed my eyes and prayed in the dark.

She groaned when the alarm went off. I hit the top middle button on the Bose remote, giving her another ten minutes of rest. She snuggled close. I pressed my nose into her hair.

The faintest of clicks marked the speakers awakening again. She moaned, pressed closer to me, I pressed the button commanding the growing music to silence once again.

I did the waltz one more time, silencing the musical interruption, giving her the peace that gives us peace.

When the music swelled up for the fourth time I let it rise. It was time to get to our day.

As she became conscious the muscles, the sinews, the vitality of consciousness stiffened her body. She moaned. Her legs withdrew from around mine. Her hands clenched and unclenched.

“Shit,” she said.

“Good morning.”

“I wish I didn’t have to wake up,” she complained. “I hate my life.”

“Your life is bad because you start each day with that mantra of how unhappy you are. You don’t have to feel that way. My life has had bad things happen, but I am happy, mostly”

“I’m not a Polly Anna.”

I rolled out of bed. This was a conversation best left unfinished.

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I rushed away from the turmoil of my wife’s heart, went for a walk in the cemetery where my son is buried, listened to the songs of awakening birds chattering about their upcoming journey south.

I read from my Bible for a bit under the dome light of my van. Hosea.

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A week or so ago I was praying and I asked my master... “How long, Lord? How long do I keep loving her? How long do I keep forgiving her?”

The gentle answer floated in my heart immediately.

“How long do you wish for me to keep forgiving you?”

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The elders and my pastor and friend spent an hour in our home last night, prying gently at my children, asking questions, giving soft advice, praying blessings, exhortations for protection, commanding evil to flee.

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

I have no answers. I have no idea of where I am going. My wife is still in my home, at least her body is, if not her heart.

I’m unsure of my path, unsure of what will happen next.

A gentle answer floats in my heart:

“Love the Lord your God with all of your heart, and all of you mind and all of your strength, and love others as you love yourself.”

Off the Cuff

Your pardon... another off the cuff post.

I don't feel like writing anything witty or falling to lexiphanic hyperbole.

What's going on:

Brenda said she would stay, that she would break things off with this other guy. I haven't said much about it because I am a little gun shy about her intentions. I suspect she still wants to run away and sees the current situation as simply working on her parental obligations, leaving the future to be decided when it comes.

We are going to counseling every Wednesday, and it is tolerable.

Tonight my pastor and the church elders are coming to pray over our home and my children.

I went in for jury duty on Friday and am on a jury. Can't say anything about it. In fact, I'm supposed to avoid talking about it with anyone or meet up with anyone involved in the trial. Weirdly enough, we decided to go out to Portland Friday night, went to a comedy club (first time in 20 years) and the defense attorney was seated just two tables away. (We didn't say a word to each other.)

Things are better. I think.

Brenda has said several times how she does not want to be a mother anymore, yet she still cooks and cleans and tries to be sweet to them.

I have tried to write posts about God working for good in all things, and another post about predestination.

Frankly... I'm too busy working on my marriage and family to spend much time on blogging.

Catch you later...

Lifting Me Up

Ame took me to task for a whistful comment I made in my last post. She was right.

I had written: “It is all such a mess. A divorce would be cleaner, neater. This future is uncertain.”

I feel strongly I need to hold to my vows, need to hold steady to what is true, what is right.

Still, everything seems such a mess that finding a way to live life without dealing with her infidelities, her anger, her anxieties, and mercurial emotions seems a viable option when I am feeling down.

This blog has been a place where I can put my thoughts, my feelings, and have people share their concerns, their thoughts, their opinions, and most importantly, their prayers. It has lifted me up.

One of those prayers was remarkable enough I shared it with my pastor and friend, who then read a portion of it during the dedication of our new church building.

My friend, Justin, commented to the post Strange Dance words which lifted me up.

Whether by Jeremiah's hands the church burned down is not the question. It is however, why. Could be He needed to touch someone in the community and needed the new building to assist in welcoming this person to his house. Could be the old building was unsafe and through Jeremiah he made the necessary changes. Could be you weren't yet adorned with enough armor to protect you from what was yet to come and this was His way of preparing you. Whatever the case, it is done and you have forgiven him. He has forgiven him. Now you just need to forgive you.

I like that quite a bit. It is typical of the support folks have given me through this strange new sort of community, the blogosphere (we need to come up with a more dignified term for it.)

Ame's comment is along the same lines. People care enough to tell me when I am getting off track. People care enough to follow my story, and when I ask for prayer, care enough to give it freely. (And prayer moves the hand of God.)

In reflecting on our new church building I wrote about the Church being more than a building. I wrote about it being the Living God in our hearts. Church is also community. Whether it is people in the chairs around me on Sunday morns, or fellow believers sitting at computers around the globe.

Community feels good.

It lifts me up.

So, a quick update on the challenges in my life right now.

Brenda and I are being somewhat kind and gentle to each other.

The boys are still shaken by the undercurrents which thread their way through our home.

My church has made a commitment to help pray away the evil which I believe clings to Jeremiah.

Our marriage is very shakey (we had even briefly agreed to a divorce at the last counseling session).

And Brenda has a tumor on her uterus.

So, it is still a mess. But I don't want a divorce.

That's about it. The rains have returned to Oregon this past week, though it is sunny today. The leaves are falling and I'm raking them into the garden to compost. Work is going well, and my back has gotten almost back to normal.

And I'm thinking about this blog, where folks from Virginia and Norway and Hong Kong and India come to encourage me, pray for me, and lift me up.

We are taking off in a few minutes to coach Special Olympics bowling (regional tournament). We will miss church, this second Sunday in the new building, but I know that church is just a part of the Church.

I just want you to know that I am glad to be sharing Church with you, my fellow believer on the other side of that glowing screen.

God bless.

Mixed Metaphors

It was pretty rough.

There were the initial pleasantries about the weather or recent news or something, I really don’t remember.

He asked about new developments. Brenda sid something about deciding to stay, but I pointed out that she is still calling this other man on the phone.

I reminded them about the details of my ultimatum of the week before and the conversation spun toward the earth like a pilot in a World War I dogfight who had made the fatal error of letting a German Ace get in on his six.

We soon agreed on a divorce.

It was as if a grenade had been thrown into the room and our marriage had been splattered over the walls.

The counselor began to gently pry at the shards of our comments and found a common ground for us.

Neither of us are happy with the results, but the results are what they are.

She promised to stay and work on our marriage (the definition of what that means took some time to reveal), and not see or contact that other fellow, the one who doesn’t mind making love to a woman with a wedding ring on her finger.

She feels she is sacrificing her happiness of the sake of our children.

I agreed to not play detective and be watching to see if she breaks her word. He said that if she does, it would soon be apparent and we can then take the actions we thought appropriate.

We also agreed to give him the authority to advise us on what steps we should take to see if we can stitch together our marriage like some sort of creation of Dr. Viktor Von Frankenstein’s.

He said we were not ready for a marriage retreat. That there is too much work for us to do to place ourselves in such a crucible at this point.

He told us to concentrate on healing our current wounds, perhaps try to have some fun.

It is going to take a lot of work.

We had conferences tonight and I arrived home about 8:30. The bedroom lights were out and she was in bed.

I understand this is hard for her. She feels I am boring, that she is no longer attracted to me, that she wants something else.

But, here we are.

Perhaps this is a place where a miracle can happen.

Perhaps we can heal from these wounds. Perhaps she can find a way to be happy.

Perhaps we can rekindle a love that has been doused by too much nasty water.

A miracle.

Miracles of the heart.

Isn’t that where God works best? Isn’t that where my Lord dwells in His Church?

In my heart. In our hearts.

So... another chapter ends, another begins.

She was to make one more contact with this other guy, to tell him it is over.

I don’t know if she did it tonight or if she is waiting to do it in person, or simply wants more time.

I will try to be patient, understanding.

But my patience is wearing pretty thin.

This was her second affair. Strike two. (Sheesh, I’m mixing a lot of metaphors in this little piece of writing!)

She is in bed. I'll go join her. We'll sleep with our backs to each other, forming the deep canyon where our hurts flow between.

It is all such a mess. A divorce would be cleaner, neater. This future is uncertain.

But I will be patient a little longer yet.

Rebuild

I arrived at church, early as usual, and moved uncertainly in the new building. It is my habit to pray with our pastors before each service, but everything was different.

We have moved into the rebuilt church.

I think many of us tried to make things feel as normal as possible. Most people sat in chairs that approximated the seats they usually sat in while we worshipped in the old gym.

It was a great service. I posted pictures of it on the sermon blog I administer for the church.

There was great music (the new sound system is wonderful). There were announcements and recognition for all those who have worked so hard to restore a sanctuary to our congregation.

A local TV station even did a news piece on it.

After all the congratulations and recognitions my friend and pastor paused to tell my family and I how much they love us.

He knows the cost this whole chapter in our lives has been to us.

But, it is an end to a chapter.

That afternoon Brenda wanted to take the dog for a walk, I declined to accompany her, sensing she wanted time alone.

Apparently I was right.

She told me later that she started text messaging the other man and ended up calling him. She told him she was going to stay with her family.

That may sound like something to rejoice over, and perhaps it is. But I am wary.

I believe she has called him this week, though she says she has not seen him.

Tomorrow we are going in to the counselor again, where I expect her to state clearly what her decision is.

I will also have to be clear about what I expect.

I want her to quit her job. She does not.

I want her to tell me she is sorry and that she will work hard at restoring our marriage.

She feels obligated to stay because of her responsibilities for our children.

I want to have a partner, a mate, someone to love me, to help my bruised heart heal.

She wants different things on an hourly basis.

I haven’t many options.

The only person I can really work with is myself. I can only discipline my own heart, my own actions. I can only seek to heal us.

The other option, if I feel I cannot trust her, or feel we cannot learn to love again, is to file for divorce.

Very narrow choices.

I am certain I will have my Lord beside me, no matter what tomorrow brings.

I am supposed to be at work, parent-teacher conferences, from 4:00 to 8:00 tomorrow night. But I will be leaving the counselor’s at 4:00.

I’m sorry this little post is so scattered. My heart and mind are so mixed up right now. I have begun three posts these last few days, and finished none of them.

I had a nice start about ending chapters, the anticipation of beginning a new chapter and all. But I didn’t finish it. Maybe I will fix it up for Job's Tale.

At any rate, the move into the new building is the end of a chapter. Jeremiah started that fire, it destroyed so much of the old, dangerous, building. And now we are in a nice, clean, warm and friendly place to worship. It is a good place for our community to meet, to hold concerts, and weddings, and all sorts of other events.

I wish hearts were as easy to renovate.

I need a miracle to pull the ashes out of my wife’s heart and build up a new sanctuary there where she and I can share and learn to love each other and the Lord again.

Rewrite Please: Not Believable

Today began with shaking off another series of bad dreams and an excruciating back ache.

The back has been giving me little twinges for several weeks and now I can barely walk. But I was still able to teach (from a nice chair).

The dreams were bizarre, full of strange symbology I don’t understand.

There was a deadly coral snake outside a window. I tapped on the glass and it turned, sped across the street, biting a little girl on her leg. I ran outside and over to her. She was unconscious, not breathing. I began sucking on the swollen bite marks and yelled for her father to call 911.

I was given a deed for a penthouse suite in a tall building. It was old and dirty and broken. Beyond a door hanging by one hinge was a weird alley connecting the building to other tall buildings. Each building was built out of parts of derelict ships. Loitering gang members threatened me with guns.

I went down to the beach. There was a half buried corpse in the sand of a tide pool.

Along the waterfront district were office buildings with broken windows. I entered a recently vacated office. A tattered map of Mexico remained on the wall among a dozen barren hooks. Various brochures in Spanish, broken furniture, overturned chairs, and scattered papers littered the floor. Small indentations in the carpet marked where furniture had been removed. A conference table held a large brand new TV.

I awoke early. Our overly large dog was on the foot of the bed, twitching and moaning in his sleep.

I got up, fixed coffee. Brenda stumbled groggily from the couch and crawled into bed. I went to work feeling uneasy.

During my preparation period I ran home to see if I had any muscle relaxants or pain pills for my back.

Brenda came bustling out as I got out of the van. She busied herself loading clothes she had washed for her mother into the car. She turned to me, trembled, and burst into tears.

The hitch we had about Jeremiah’s immigration process has gotten messier. Her request for her birth certificate, to prove she is a U.S. citizen so she can sponsor his naturalization, is being held up because her current name isn’t the same as the birth certificate and she needs to request our marriage certificate by mail with a notarized signature from Califiornia.

Another detail.

Another delay.

Another stress.

I went to the bank with her. The notary public verified her identity and signature. She made a mistake on the paperwork. It had to be redone. We went back home, downloaded another copy of the documents. Back to the bank, then to a copy place, made duplicates for our records, went back home.

She confessed that last night she took all the over the counter sleeping pills we had. It was only eight, so they didn’t hurt her. I threatened to have her hospitalized unless she promised to see a doctor about her depression.

So, a quick recap...

My psoriasis is back and my hands have split in nine places. My back is out. I haven’t been getting restful sleep. I believe evil forces have been plaguing my son (Blood has appeared on walls. Maybe it was the dog, but he didn’t have any on him.). Jeremiah’s immigration keeps hitting roadblocks. My wife is suicidal. The car needs repairs and is in legal limbo because of an error by the insurance company. Our children are becoming withdrawn and worried because of the stress in our home. And my wife is trying to decide if she should leave me for another man.

And...

I am having a great year professionally. I am respected by my colleagues, church family, and community. I am going through one of the most creative times in my life, in writing, photography, painting, and teaching. I feel myself changing inside, growing, maturing, handling life in ways I know are more like the man God created me to be than I have ever felt in all my life.

And...

I am daily reminded of the realities of the love of my Lord, strengthened by His presence and reassurance. My faith is stronger with each passing problem, challenge, stress.

I wish I could help my wife more. I pray I she learns to see good in the world, despite the bizarre events which would be scratched out of any Hollywood movie script as simply not believable enough.

I praise my sweet Lord and master, Jesus, for giving me a heart that can sense Him when things get so dark.

I guess I’m a blessed man: knowing the Creator of the Universe is a blessing that surpasses my ability to describe.

Ultimatum

There has been more weird little problems, ones which upset Brenda today, and she spent the first ten minutes venting about them.

Turns out that the accident she had a year ago created a problem with renewing the license on the car (the insurance company mistakenly sent notification to DMV that the car was totaled, so we did not get the renewal notices). WE got a ticket for expired tags Saturday, and we find the car needs a new exhaust and tuning to pass clean air standards.

No matter. It is just that she was very stressed entering the session today.

She was even more stressed after I read my statement.

Her first response was that she would stay, forever, but that she would hate every minute of it.

I told her “No.”

I want a real marriage. I do not want her trapped in a cage.

I told her that she must be committed to repairing our marriage, to having a good life together.

“Well you can’t make me leave if I won’t. I don’t have to stay and work on our marriage.”

“Yes, I can. If you stay with me, miserable and angry, resentful, and unhappy and unwilling to change that, I can force your freedom on you. I can file for a divorce myself and a judge can divide our things and one of us will move out. But whether I move out or stay, the boys will be with me because I love them, I want them.

“You must choose which side of this fence you will be on. That includes a commitment to this marriage if you stay. You are truly free to choose.

“If you were to die I would figure things out with the boys. You do not need to feel that you must stay. You are free to make this choice. I will not coerce or bribe and offer empty promises.”

“Yeah. OK. I'll just pretend to be the happy wife and do what I have to do.”

“No, you won’t. I am already changing. With or without you I will not be the man I was. I won’t let you live an unhappy life with me. If you stay we will figure out how to make you happy, healthy, whole.”

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

That’s it for now. The counselor asked me to step out so he could talk with Brenda. I have made it clear that she has a week to decide. So, I am out in the car, tapping away at this keyboard.


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

It has been an interesting evening. We have done a lot of talking, even a little laughing.

She is unsure what she will do (I am insisting she take her time and be certain of her choice), but I believe she is working her way to staying here.

There are going to be tough times ahead.

I haven’t time to write a clever post. We are getting the boys ready for bed, fix some nachos for ourselves.

Whether she stays or whether she goes I will be obedient to my Lord.

That is enough for now.

Ashes for Beauty

Then Job took a piece of broken pottery and scraped himself with it as he sat among the ashes. --Job 2:8

I get it. I’ve felt the ashes in my heart for some time. Not a comfortable feeling for a guy who is generally optimistic, always seeing possibilities.

There are the ashes of my marriage. There are the ashes sitting on my desk scraped from the remains of the church my son burned down. There are the ashes of my hopes as a father from when my first child drifted off from a sleep into eternity. And there are fresher ashes of the fatherly dream of hopes of what my next two children could be taught, could be nurtured to be.

It is hard to believe one is beautiful when covered with ashes.

I want that to change.

“Trade these ashes in for beauty and wear forgiveness like a crown
Coming to kiss the feet of mercy, I lay every burden down
At the foot of the cross”
“At the Foot of Cross”, Kathryn Scott

I want to trade these ashes for beauty. Especially the ashes of the relationship with the woman I love.

I am willing to let her go.

Wednesday I am going to say what I need to say. I think it has been good to let it sit for a week, even though the pendulum of her moods is hard to take. She has been giving a lot of thought to life. Our life and a life of us apart. It is good for her to work through this and perhaps come closer to making a decision without demands from me.

But time is up.

So, to the point of this little bit of writing.

What I will say on Wednesday:

Dear Brenda:

I love you. Without conditions, I love you.

I have hurt you. You have hurt me. That will not continue. Either we will rebuild our marriage and find ways to love, to cherish, to honor, or we won’t be married.

Though I love you unconditionally, my love is not based on what I expect from you, or get from you, or think about how our life can be good, wonderful, exciting, fulfilling. I love you because I see within you a soul connected to mine. I simply love you.

However, a marriage does have conditions. It is between two people It is a partnership, working together. I promise to work on my share of that partnership if you choose to remain married to me.

Choose.

Stay or go. No more of the limbo, the shadow world of maybes and mightbes.

Choose.

If you choose to go there are conditions for that as well.

You can have half of all we have, but you cannot take either child.

You have thought about taking Jeremiah with you. I will not permit that. It isn’t good for him. Not only would he see his parents' marriage dissolve, he would suffer other losses as well.

He will lose what I can offer him as father. My nightly talks and prayers with him. My emotional support as he is confused about day to day events. My daily demonstrations of love.

He will lose his home. The place where he feels secure, safe, where there are routines he understands and relies upon.

He will lose his brother. His best friend. The sibling that means so much to him, who watches over him and cares for him.

He will lose the routines of the traditions of our home, daily, weekly annual traditions which gives him the sense of security he craves.

Without all these things he will act out. He will sadden. He will listen to the voices in him that whisper about the dark things.

If you choose to leave you cannot have Jeremiah.

That is it. If you leave you can take half of our things, but nothing else from our home.

If you choose to stay...

If you choose to stay there are conditions as well.

You cannot have this other man in your life. You will have to sever all contact with him.

I want a marraige. I want to be a partner in this endeavor. As partners is the only way it will work.

For that to work, you will have to be commmited to this marraige. Perhaps that will be a difficult cross for you to bear. I can understand how it may be hard for you. Perhaps it will be easier some day. But you must commit to being true, holding true. If you ever feel your heart waiver you must not compromise our marriage. If either of us ever waivers in any aspect of our marriage, the solution cannot be to seek another. The solution must be to work within the marriage, through frank, honest, kind conversations, through counseling, through whatever it takes. This must hold firm. I am placing this condition on our marriage: there is no further infidelity for as long as we are legal man and wife.

You may have to quit that job, though it may put a burden on others, if our marriage is worth working on, all ties to this other man will have to be the sacrifice you must make.

But if you choose to stay, then I will offer all of who I am to love, to cherish, to nurture you.

I will not hurt you by holding any of the hard things we have gone through. Instead I will give you all that I can to make you happy, to feel loved and cared for.

I know I have short comings, and I will do what I can to grow in ways that will be good for you as well as for me. Indeed, I will make those changes in myself with or without you. For I want to please God with what He has given me, and that means being the best man I can be, working through my flaws and shortcomings.

If you choose to stay I will keep my work hours closer to 40 than 60. I will contribute all I can to our home that to give you the freedom to laugh and enjoy our home.

You will need to work on the hurts that have marred your spirit as well. You need to deal with all the hurts that have damaged you. Even if you leave I strongly encourage you to deal with those hurts, for if you do not the pain they cause you will damage any relationships you may have. You need to heal.

That is it. I do not want you to make a snap judgment about this. I want you to consider this decision carefully.

But this is not a decision that can wait too long.

Within one week you will need to come down off the fence which divides these two futures.

You need to choose.

I love you with all of my heart. I want good things for you.

It is now your choice.

Choose to be my partner in this life.

Or move on.


I want to change these ashes for beauty.

Next Wednesday

I told Brenda and the counselor that I wanted a week to think and pray.

I know I really don’t need that much time to know what to do.

I have been praying fervently. Praying that the Lord brings someone alongside my wife to help her see that He is good, that all things can work for good for those who love Him.

She has trouble appreciating love.

She sees it as a burden (previous post). She feels that those who love her place too many demands on her.

She has a point. The challenges she faces with her mother, our children, and me, develop out of the relationships we have, the love we have.

It is true of God as well.

If we love Him, then we should seek to be obedient to Him. That can mean giving more than we would in time, energy, money.

Setting aside her concerns regarding love, what burdens does love place on me? How much space do I need to provide her?

How long can I wait while she balances our marriage on the fence which separates our marriage and her desire to run off with this other man?

I said that I would think and pray, and I think I know what I need to say, need to do.

Marriage is a partnership. I only get one vote and it must be a unanimous decision by both parties.

If we are to be married, there cannot be someone else in her heart.

I must tell her to choose.

I don’t think I will like the answer.

I want her to choose carefully, so I will suggest she take a week to decide.

This is a hard place to be.

There is more to this marriage than she and I.

There are the children of course. She has suggested she take Jeremiah with her. She is on the paperwork as his sponsor for the immigration legal issues surrounding him. But I won’t let her take him. He needs a father. I love him more deeply than she; I do not see him as the burden she does. I will not let this other man be his father. She can’t have him.

The other party to this marriage is God. This marriage was consecrated to Him. She and I are his children, and I am giving all that I am, all that I do to Him. This marriage is His and if He will heal her heart we can work it out. If He needs to leave open her heart to give her the free will he has given us all, then it will be her choice.

As His servant I will obey Him. I give Him my home, all my assets, my family, my marriage. If being the best servant to Him I can be is not enough to sustain this marriage, so be it.

I will stand up straight, keep my eyes on what I know is right and good and fair and just and loving. It has taken me too long to realise the courage I need to face this squarely.

That means that I must cast the shadow of this other man’s love out of our home, out of our bedroom. I will not be a cuckold.

If she chases after that shadow, I will mourn the loss of what might have been, but I will not whimper for her love, manipulate her emotions to guilt her into staying, or shame her into keeping her vows.

Pray for me, please. Pray for serenity and grace and wisdom and strength as I stand on my vows and my faith and look to the heavens, the only place real help comes from and seek to rise up on the wings of eagles out of the awful mess we are in.

Lord, bless my home I pray. Bless my wife that she may have someone brought beside her to help her see that You are good, that Your love is true. Bless her with strength and wisdom. I pray for her love, that she sees that our love can be good and true and fulfilling. I pray for my children, as they go through the currents and waves which will rock them. Lord, please give me a heart of love and kindness and caring as I approach her with an ultimatum that she might see it as an open door into a good life and not into a cell of confinement. Bless me Lord to stay strong enough to be your faithful servant. --Amen.

My church family just delivered a new refrigerator for us.
(Thank you, thank you, thank you!)
My wedding ring bit into my finger (fragile skin) while I was moving it into place.
I thought the symbolism... interesting.

Hope

It was a rough counseling session.

I see that my marriage is hanging by the slimmest of threads.

I said something about the situation of knowing my wife was in love with another was intolerable. That I cannot continue this way. Then, in the midst of the chest thumping, I said something about the counseling sessions being a place where we are forced into corners, having to take a stand (both myself and her).

The counselor pointed out, accurately, that I change my position in the midst of such statements. That I stand up, make a clear statement about what I can handle, and then turn around and blame the session for forcing us into taking a stand.

It was an insight that showed me how I manipulate the conversations my wife and I have.

I started from a logical perspective, stating where I am. Then I moved to an emotional argument, seeking to create a space where she can give our marriage a chance.

Once again the Wednesday session has left us, especially me, very bruised.

We went into the backyard this evening, alcohol and tobacco again, and talked, trying to understand each other. The understanding is leading me again to the realization that it may be too late for us to save our marriage.

But it isn’t over yet.

I said that I will take the next week to think and to pray.

While we were talking I told her again how I love her, how I think we can rebuild our marriage. I told her why I thought it could work, but admitted that it may not happen.

She said that if I didn’t love her it would be easier.

“Love can be a burden,” she said.

“The boys love me, and that is a burden. My mother loves me and that is a burden. You love me and that is a burden. And John loves me, and that is a burden too.”

Shit.

We had a lot of things hit us last week. The clothes washer broke. Before the repairman could come the water heater broke. When the plumber came with a new water heater he pointed out that the electrical was not to code and he couldn’t install the new heater. The electrician showed up and found that the conduit would not work with the newer wires.

By the next evening the refrigerator quit. I got it going again, but at the highest cooling setting it only gets the temperature in there down to 45 degrees. It won’t last much longer.

Though all of these devices are old and were running out their usefulness, it seems improbable that they would all go out within a 48 hour period.

Brenda said something interesting about all that.

“Even though these things have really hurt our finances and made things hard, I think that it might have happened to force us to work together on something. Or maybe it was just a coincidence, I dunno.”

That was a change in her from the idea that God was toying with us.

...through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope... Romans 5:2-4

There is the element of hope here.

I will trust in the Lord.

I will pray fervently this week, seeking wisdom.

I have hope in the Lord.

Whether or not my marriage survives...

Just a Dream

It was just a dream. Bits of flotsam and jetsam. Or is it jetsam and flotsam since that is the order they would happen? At any rate, dreams are often weird metaphors for what is going on in our lives, a way for the heart and spirit and mind and even the body to work together to keep us sane.

Still, I am going through my day with the emotional residue left by a strange dream.

I think the emotions of a dream are often stronger than their content. When we relate a dream it seems to carry no emotional impact to our listeners. They may find it odd, but they miss what the dream left behind in our hearts and minds.

I wrote a post last night, and I posted it this morning feeling the emotional residue of a dream crystalized in the post I had written.

The post was about the strange series of mechanical breakdowns in our home. How it laid stress on my fragile marriage and offered the fodder for theological debate between my wife and I on the goodness or even existence, of God.

Drifting off to a prescription drug aided sleep I found myself wading in deep dark water, a common dream metaphor for feeling overwhlemed.

There were things floating in the water.

Some were right on the surface, much of it floated at varying depths in strings and clumps.

They were fish hooks.

They were brightly colored bits of rubber and plastic imitating edible tidbits fish might enjoy, and each had hooks on them, some single, some triple, all brass.

I was moving to get people out of the water, my wife, my children. I could feel the hooks biting into my arms, legs, back, chest, sides.

When I emerged from the water the weight of those hooks, some of them clinging to dozens of others, pulled at my skin.

I got my family out. I pulled out a pair of wire cutters and clipped the barbs off the hooks that most hampered my movements and started going around, removing the brass snares from the flesh of my family.

A sense of horror rose in my heart. I snipped the tiny gaffs from my wife’s flesh, backing the curved metal pieces out of her skin.

Now and then I paused to remove a few from myself.

Snip. Off came the barbs. Then I’d tug at the bits of metal and nonsensical, nearly Dr. Seussical type rubber creatures with their impotent hooks stabbing out of their bellies, tossing them to lay beside the lapping water.

As the sun rose in my dream it rose outside my window. The alarm went off. I rolled out of bed.

I began my day with emotional gossamer threads of the strange dream clinging to my heart... Six hours later I still feel wrapped by tiny spider threads of emotional horror and pain and damaged flesh, it is clinging to the emotional reality of this new day.

I posted the piece I had written for this blog the night before and went to work. I taught some great lessons today, around the themes of changing technology, web 2.0 and the ethics of new technologies.

At work I can accomplish clear goals. I almost wish I didn’t have to go home. The reality of home is too much like the surreal world of my dreams.

Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. Heavenly father. I am very confused. Lord Jesus, bring me back to that place of peace and serenity of a couple of weeks ago. Holy Spirit, comfort me today. Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. Amen.