I Need to Get Some Rest

Yesterday was a day of extremes.

I got up early (seven hours sleep!!!), showered, got my kids fed and ready for church, picked up my mother in law, got there in time to pray with the pastors and the worship team.

Most of the songs didn’t seem to particularly pluck my heart strings with a poetic guitar pick, but I did feel a bit of internal spiritual movement.

There is a Sunday School class I am sort of helping out in (I’ll be the “sub” in a month or so, but my current role is being “the weird guy in the corner with the odd ideas”).

We were looking at chapter six of The Shack and the theological question of whether of not God abandoned Christ at the cross (having given up His part of the Godhead in order to bear the sins of mankind). The theology ran a little heavy, with scriptures and learned commentaries being consulted. That is until I threw in one of my too frequent odd ideas, which went something like this:

“Well, I might be wrong, in fact I probably am, but these thoughts occur to me...

“I’ve read that autistic children often swing their arms and legs about not because they lack control, but because in moving their bodies they are better able to distinguish who they are, where their body ends and the rest of the world begins. For most of us, we have a very clear idea of who we are, focussing on this physical body, and not really consider anything beyond it as being a part of “us.” We know exactly where our skin ends and clothing begins, and what is of us and what is of the room or the furniture.

“I’ve also read about a scientist who studies the mind and the brain, and he argues that the brain, the physical organ within the skull, is not the producer of the mind, but actually limits what the mind can express. His evidence is intriguing. In looking at folks with brain injuries, he notes how they are limited in the mind’s thought processes. If the injury is repaired, there appears to have continued the larger abilities though the brain was unable to express them. It seems that there is something beyond the organic brain which screens the mind and limits its capacity, its potential.

“Additionally, I have thought it interesting that all matter at the quantum level is an expression of six types of sub atomic particles called quarks, which may be “strings vibrating in 12 dimensions” and in those vibrations “sing” an expression of particles. It is interesting that these particle are “sung” into existence in quantities of thirds, as if there is a trinity behind the physical reality of the universe.

“Now, if that trinity which sings the universe into being is the same trinity we call “God”, then even though God is actively creating the universe, we still have free will, to be self-centered, which is the core of sin. God is not apart from us, though we sin.

“Now, consider, perhaps in becoming a man, in Jesus being born of a woman and living as a human being, He was sort of extruding Himself into the reality of our world, filtering Himself into this expression of himself in a way similar to how the brain might be limiting the mind. He was still, most of him, doing His part in the trinity in maintaining the existence of the universe, yet the part that was on Earth, was not only fully divine, but also completely expressed as a mortal being.

“And if sin is about being self-centered, in turning away from God and focussing on ourselves, then in opening Himself up to our sins, in grasping and turning to hold, to behold, to take in the self-centeredness of the world, His limited expression in being mortal was turned away from His Father. He turned away, and in doing so took His eyes, his human, physical, ordinary mortal eyes, away from the trinity, and He experienced the abandonment we all feel when we turn away from God.

The class sat stunned for a moment. Then a buddy I work with said: “This is the kind of stuff I have to put up with every morning!” and everyone laughed.

I sat back, feeling a little better at having distracted my heart and mind for a few moments from my absent wife.

She came over later. She had spent the night at her AA sponsor’s on a mattress we had taken off a spare bed. She now wanted to borrow my van to go to John’s house to retrieve her hope chest and dresser.

I repeated that I thought it best if she stayed at her friend’s, a neutral place where she can get to know herself before deciding where she really wanted to be, what she really wanted to do, with her life.

She left. She took about an hour longer to retrieve her things than was necessary. She came back, feeling sad for leaving him. She said she loved him.

I took a deep breath, consciously forced my arms, my body, to relax, remain calm. With as much restraint as I could muster I spoke firmly, almost fiercely, with clipped, well-chosen words.

“You are so fickle! You spend an hour or so here, see the responsibilities involved in raising these children, see how much they love and miss you, and say you want to move back. You spend an hour over there and say you love him and can’t bear to leave him.

“You don’t know what the hell you want!

“Go to your friend’s house. Stay there a month. Learn who you are and what you want, and decide, once and for all. You can’t be here. You can’t be there either.

“This isn’t good for our kids. This isn’t good for me. And this isn’t good for you!

“You have been sneaking and lying, and pretending, and dancing on the fence. Stand up for who you are. Discover who you are! If you really love him, a month won’t matter, you will know that being with him is truly where you belong. But if this is all about your confusion and dependancies, then you need to set yourself apart from both of us and get to know your own heart and mind.

“But do not contact him. If you want to go to him, come to me first. Be honest with yourself and with me. Say what you want. Don’t sneak. Don’t lie. Stand up for who you are and act with integrity. Tell me the truth and then follow through with it!”

So that is where we left it. She moved her pieces of furniture back in. I reglued a broken drawer and a runner. Isaac’s eyes brightened, hoping his mother was returning. I cautioned him not to read too much into this.

That evening I went to an Al Anon meeting while she went to her AA meeting. Waiting for the doors to open I walked a couple of houses away, she joined me.

“This isn’t going to work, Will.”

“OK...”

“I can’t keep stringing you and the boys along, this isn’t fair to any of you.”

“That is your choice. But be sure that you can live with that decision. Can you say that you believe there is no hope for our marriage?”

She hesitated a moment or two.

“That’s what I think. I don’t think you will ever be able to trust me, and I don’t know if I can forget John.”

“OK. Fine. Would you please drop by the courthouse in Oregon City tomorrow and pickup the divorce papers? They will cost $5. Do you need any money?”

“No, I have enough.”

“Also, pick up a quit claim, probably a realtor’s office, so we can take care of the property.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Don’t worry about it. We need to move on from this insane balancing act.”

I went to the meeting. Announced our decision. Left early.

I woke at 5:00. I had fallen asleep about 11:30. A little more sleep than usual.

Got showered, ironed my clothes, fixed my lunch, got the boys up and dressed.

She said she’d be by to fix the boy’s breakfast, but she was late, calling just 20 minutes before Isaac needed to board the school bus.

I told her it was OK. That I would go ahead and take off. I passed her a couple of blocks away.

Then she emailed me:

Hi. Sorry about running a little late this morning. I will take an alarm clock over to Kerri's so that I can do better from now on. Kerri reminded me last night that this separation is supposed to be to help me figure out what I really want and that I don't have to make any decisions yet. I guess you are right about being influenced too easily one way or the other. I just want all the hurting to stop and it seems to me that making a final decision is the only way to begin, but she is right I need to take the time to really decide what I want. I know that I don't want to leave you and the boys in a bad spot. I have made everyone too dependent on me and now I feel trapped because they are, that is my own fault I know it is. I am sorry. I hope you have a good day. I will be here when Isaac gets home and take him to the oral surgeon appointment this afternoon. Then perhaps if you don't mind I will fix us all some dinner, or bring some home depending on the time. See you later.


I’m not sure what that means. Doesn’t sound like a path to marriage to me. I sent a simple reply:

OK...

Get well.

Be calm.

If you want to hold on on divorce, DO NOT SEE JOHN AGAIN.

If you do want to see him, don't sneak, tell me first. We can handle it like adults.

Even if you leave, it is worth the effort to begin to rebuild trust, even if it ends in divorce, I need to believe what you tell me.

I love you.

Take care.

Dinner is OK.

So there it is.

I have no clue what is going to happen. But I am exhausted, and ready to toss in the towel. Perhaps some will see me as failing in my marriage. But from my perspective, I have been patient, loving, forgiving, supportive, and tolerant. Those are her words as well.

If she doesn’t want to work on this marriage, if she wants to continue this affair, that is her choice.

I want a partner. I want a marriage. But that is an equation with two parts. If she does not want it, then I am exhausted enough, weary enough, and perhaps even wise enough, to see that going our separate ways is best for all concerned.

So there you are... from weird thoughts about the brain, mind, soul, trinity, quantum physics, the Crucifixion, and the nature of sin, to resignation, resolve, and willingness to allow her to choose, I continue as a parent, a teacher, and a friend, while I wonder about my role as a husband and a man.

Man, I hope I get enough sleep tonight.