Untitled - Kingdom Life Anglican Church

Transcription

Fill Me Up!
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1 BREAKING FREE
1
CHAPTER 2 EVERYTHING’S FINE
18
CHAPTER 3 MIRROR, MIRROR ON THE WALL
31
CHAPTER 4 SPRING CLEANING
42
CHAPTER 5 HUMPTY DUMPTY LIVES!
66
CHAPTER 6 MARRIAGES IN TURMOIL
79
CHAPTER 7 THE MOMENT
97
CHAPTER 8 THE ROAD TO RESTORATION
108
CHAPTER 9 ANOTHER NEW BEGINNING
131
Page 1
Compliments of Kingdom Life Anglican Church
Chapter 1 Breaking Free
Songs: There’s Got To Be More, by Stacie Orrico
Isn’t that a beautiful picture? Simply
add a dog and a minivan and Presto! it becomes a portrait of the allAmerican family. It is also, however, a
testimony that without God as the
foundation, things aren’t always as
they appear.
That happens to be my family you see
there. I looked so happy and fulfilled.
The man next to me appeared to be the ideal husband. We were so blessed with our
two beautiful, healthy little girls and our financial security. We may have looked
picture-perfect on the outside, but on the inside, things were not so perfect. Just six
months after the picture was taken, our marriage fell apart.
It wasn’t until after the fall that we realized what had gone so terribly wrong. We had
become so consumed with the things of this world, and in doing so, we allowed the
most important internal blessings – love, comfort, peace and joy - to completely
disappear from our lives. As I look back, it is astounding to realize how easily they
Page 2
Chapter 1 – Breaking Free
slipped away, and how passively we succumbed to the life-sized vacuum that inhaled
them away from us.
Hindsight is grand. Though I hadn’t realized it at
the time, the pathway that led to our fallen
marriage was years in the making. With every
passing year, I became increasingly empty. It was
as though I had a gas leak – one that was so
minimal it went unnoticed until suddenly…there I
was…screaming for someone to FILL ME UP! My
soul felt restless and I searched for an answer down
countless dead end roads.
Perhaps I was bored? Maybe a new challenge would provide me with a new sense of
purpose, I reasoned. I filled myself up with temporary job assignments and additional
volunteer responsibilities, and it helped…for a little while. But then I became even
more stressed with my growing list of meaningless tasks. Perhaps I was lonely? My
husband and I spent little time laughing any more, so I made an effort to get out more
with friends. It helped…but only until I returned to my tension-filled home. Perhaps
our home wasn’t all it could be? We moved and quickly discovered the grass isn’t
always greener on the other side. Maybe a new car would satisfy that ache for more.
But it didn’t…it simply added to our growing debt level. Perhaps my life had become
meaningless? At times, I consumed myself with my children’s lives and that also
KingdomLifeAnglicanChurch.org
Copyright 2004-2009; All Rights Reserved
Page 3
helped…until I began wondering “what about me?” Perhaps this is all there is? I found
myself pouring a few too many glasses of wine, hoping to numb myself to the growing
sense of despair I was feeling, not wanting to face the sad resolve that accompanied
the realization that I could find nothing that truly satisfied me. This helped too, but
only until the numbness wore off and I was then filled with guilt (and a headache).
After my efforts to “fill me up” failed, I concluded that my husband was to blame for
my void: his lack of intimacy; his lack of caring and understanding. He simply didn’t
love me enough. Ah ha! Yes, of course…that is what had left me with an empty tank.
I failed to recognize “the nudge” and the meaning behind it: The feelings of
emptiness; the knowledge that something was missing; the certainty that the hope of
a full tank was just around the corner. As it turned out, my intuition was right on
target – these insights were very real. The problem was that I was looking for
fulfillment in all the wrong places. These feelings were, in fact, the gentle nudge of
the Lord, whispering “psst…come closer. I have everything you’re looking for.” But
instead, I pushed Him away and hung the “Do Not Disturb” sign around my heart. “Not
now,” I subconsciously responded. “I don’t have time.” I see now that He gave me
many chances over the years, but I resisted. I was already crazed with a demanding
schedule – with no foreseeable way to squeeze one more chore into my life.
So I went about my busy life, continuing to resist the nudge that oftentimes haunted
me. And in doing so, I can look back and see that I left Him no choice but to take
Page 4
extreme measures. If a whisper wouldn’t get my attention, certainly a jack hammer
would. Like a parent who uses the old’ cliché’ “this is going to hurt me much more
than it does you, but it’s for your own good,” so I’m convinced it was with the Lord as
He looked upon me with great sadness. “You are about to experience great pain, but I
will give you the strength to endure, and I will be there to catch you.” And He allowed
great pain to enter my life, blasting away at my heart, but never faltering in His
promises.
The metamorphosis of a butterfly is so symbolic of many journeys, including my own.
In many ways, I had become like a caterpillar, plodding through life searching for
something, though never really knowing what that was. It’s not that my life was bad.
In fact, it was pretty darn good. What more could a person possibly want? Reason told
me I should be content: I had a good husband, I had two lovely children, I had an
education, I had many wonderful friends. Reason told me that should be enough. But
my heart knew there was more, and my heart longed to discover it. The problem was,
I had no idea what was missing, and certainly no idea how to find it.
The caterpillar plods through life, probably unsuspecting of the changes to come.
Comfortable. Steady. Achieving, yet not stretching too far. Content. Until she
develops the urge. An urge for change. A longing for more. And then suddenly
complacency is not nearly enough. Status quo will never suffice for this fuzzy little
creature. She knows there’s something more, but try as she might, she just can’t find
it. Still she knows – something has to change. But what is it?
Page 5
“Hmmm….eating, perhaps?” wonders the hungry caterpillar. If only she has more to
eat, she’ll feel better. The thought that she could be hungering for something more
than food never enters her mind. And she begins her search. Her desires will be met.
She’ll feel good. Really good. And no longer able to resist, she eats. Hey, she was
right! It does feel good. But not for long. She wants more. She wants to feel good
again and again. She eats and eats until she is all consumed by pain. Pain from eating
too much? Pain from the guilt of overindulgence? Pain from realizing the external
gratification would never meet her underlying needs? Pain from not seeing what her
lack of self-control had done to everything around her?
Now she just wants to die. She wants the pain to go away, but she doesn’t know how
to make it stop. Nothing works. She’s tried everything she can think of to absorb the
pain. Once the temporary fix wears off, she feels even worse. She pulls the covers
over her head and hopes it will all go away, that one day she’ll awaken and it’ll all be
over. The pain gone. The memory gone. The chains that held her - vanished.
And she retreats into her safe, comfortable, warm cocoon.
Just when she thinks she can’t take any more, something miraculous happens. She
awakens. The chains that once bound her are shattered, and she is free! Her cocoon
opens and she can’t believe what she feels. She has wings! She had spent her previous
days crawling around with her belly on the ground, secretly admiring the beautiful
Page 6
wings of the other creatures. And now she had them too! She slowly spreads her new
wings, testing them for the first time. This feels better than anything she could have
ever imagined. True freedom. Extended wings feeling as though they are reaching to
the heavens above.
My story is very similar, only it was me who had been cast in the starring role…not the
caterpillar. It is a story of enduring great pain, yet being led victoriously through it; a
story of discovery in the face of hopelessness. Like the caterpillar, I was empty inside.
I wasn’t ready to admit it, but deep down I knew something was not right. I searched
fruitlessly for an answer; for fulfillment. And then my search ended with great pain. I
had been completely broken and was unable to comprehend how I could ever go on. I
clamored into my cocoon and found God waiting inside. Safe in His arms, the
miraculous transformation was about to occur. The chains were shattered and my
heart was freed. My spirit emerged, soaring with joyfulness. I discovered a new
life…the life God had always intended for me to live. I found new love…His love that I
had never before fully accepted. And I found new relationships…both on heaven and
on earth, which I will cherish for the rest of my life.
My hope is to share my journey with you. To encourage you to look inside the depths
of your soul and face any emptiness that may be looking back. Perhaps your stirrings
have only begun to be awakened, or perhaps you’ve already clamored into your
cocoon. Wherever you are right now, be aware that facing pain presents us with an
Page 7
incredible opportunity to grow and to learn. But only if we take God’s hand and allow
Him to guide us through it.
Are you truly living joyfully, the way God intended you to live? Do you feel free, ready
to burst? Do you exuberate His light with an excitement that draws people close
enough to tell them why? Or are you simply existing, trying to find time in your
enormous list of unfulfilling tasks to offer a quick prayer. Are you longing for feelings
you know deep down inside will never come again? Are you plagued with daily
memories of people who have hurt you in the past? Are you starving for a meaningful
emotional connection? Are you spending much of your time running on empty, avoiding
the urge to scream at anyone who will listen, “FILL ME UP!”?
If your answer is “yes” to any of the latter questions posed, then you are probably
close to where I was only one year ago. There are a host of reasons that may get us
there: maybe it has everything to do with a marriage, or maybe it has nothing at all to
do with a marriage. Maybe you’ve been ill or have been caring for a loved one who is
ill. Maybe you’re struggling through an unfulfilling career, or a longing to find a new
purpose. The list of contributors goes on and on, but it all boils down to emotional
turmoil that takes control over your life. If this is the case for you, I am offering you
hope. There is a way out. I want to share how my emptiness was filled, and how my
barriers were discovered and broken. There is great freedom in allowing God to take
hold of your heart and believing He will never let go, and knowing everything you
Page 8
could possibly need or want will always be there for you – even if the rest of your
world crumbles around you.
You can do it yourself…I did. Hey, congratulations! If you just read that previous
sentence, you discovered the only seven words written in this book that are not true.
Contrary to my stubborn beliefs of old (the beliefs that were centered around the “I
can do it myself” attitude), this journey is one we were never intended to walk alone.
I am oftentimes reminded that, unlike the life I led prior to this point, I could not have
made these discoveries by myself. I could not have experienced God’s amazing healing
presence on my own, nor would I ever have fully understood the realities He revealed
to me along the way. Although I hadn’t realized it at the time, God had done an
amazing job of preparing me for the pain I was about to face. Over the years, He had
strategically placed people in my life who would eventually become key to my healing
– who would bring me closer to Him. I was the naïve, unsuspecting soul who was just
happy to meet another friendly face. I had no idea what these people would
eventually mean to me.
As dramatic as they may have been, my personal experiences were not allencompassing enough to complete the story revealed in these pages. While God was at
the center, there were three additional components to my transformation. First was
prayer. But I didn’t know how to pray – at least not for the things I really needed.
Regina’s prayer ministry helped to facilitate some miraculous changes that took place
in my life, and I have discovered how blessed I am that she quietly entered my life
Page 9
over five years ago. She was my assigned “group leader” during an Alpha course, an
outstanding course which explores the Christian faith. Her stories intrigued me as she
recalled her years of serving God in the convent. Her words captivated me and I had
never met anyone who knew God’s Word so well, yet spoke of it with such gentleness.
Her aura created a warm invitation to learn more which I simply couldn’t refuse.
Regina gave me a safe place to ask questions and to seek answers, and she eventually
provided an open door to run through when I needed it. Throughout this book, you
will read about Regina’s healing ministry, and she will share her gift as she
demonstrates how you, too, can pray for the things you really need rather than
continue to recite the ritualistic (and oftentimes meaningless) prayers that many of us
grew up with.
The second component of my journey was an unwavering belief in the Holy Spirit. Jim
came into my life several years ago, although his entry was not as quiet as Regina’s.
He and his dear wife, Olwyn, made quite a first impression on me. Their robust and
outgoing Irish-bred love of the Lord was initially threatening to me, and I watched in
disbelief as they exposed me to the presence of the Holy Spirit. “Bazaar,” was a kind
way of summarizing my first impression. But ever so gently and gradually, he exposed
me to more. Never forcing it, but always being there when my curiosity would drive
my desire to learn more. And by continually testing their words and actions against the
Word, I eventually came to realize Jim’s teachings were real. Wow, I discovered that
the Bible truly did talk about this stuff! But being ever-so-skeptical, I continued
testing until at last, he finally bowled me over. He was real. And everything he had
Page 10
taught me about the Holy Spirit was real. If he had not moved so gently, I would not
have been in a place where I was ready to accept the power of the Holy Spirit at a
time when I so desperately needed it. I attribute most of my experiences to Jim’s
ability to explain them to me and to encourage me through them. Jim’s knowledge of
Scripture, combined with his passion and ability to call upon the Holy Spirit and to
teach others to do the same, will open your heart to feeling the Lord’s peaceful
presence in ways you may never have known.
You will read words from our clergy and will receive many words of wisdom from
people just like yourself…those who have traveled victoriously through the depths of
pain and who now willingly share their wisdom with you. God surely blessed me when
he brought me to this little church in Naples, Florida and surrounded me with
individuals ready and willing to do His work.. Oh yes, God knew what he was doing
with my life. Now, perhaps, I feel as though my experience is somehow part of your
plan.
Everybody should feel inspired by hearing testimony of the awesome way God can
move in their life. Everybody should have at least one Godly friend in their life, like
my friend Jody, who can offer support and encouragement from their heart and not
their head. Everybody should have a church home that was built on God’s word and
Christ’s love for His people, such as the one I have found. And everybody should be
surrounded by gifted people within that church to walk with them through their
journey, such as my very special friends Jim and Regina. But not everybody has these
Page 11
things. If this type of Christian support network has already been laid before you,
embrace it. Nurture it. If a network such as this has not been made available to you
yet, please use ours. Eventually, we’re all going to fall - and God did not intend for us
to take that fall alone. Being surrounded by a Godly support will greatly enhance your
chances of getting back up and moving on, rather than continuing to lie with your face
in the dirt. I’ve tried that, and let me tell you – the dirt doesn’t taste so good.
Music was the third component of my journey. The words and lessons learned from
each chapter are reiterated through the song selections noted at the beginning of
every chapter. These songs can be purchased and downloaded from the Internet, and I
assure you that it will be well worth the investment to create a spirit-filled CD for
yourself. Whether you’re driving in the car, taking a shower or cooking dinner, let the
music speak to you. These songs will provide powerful reminders that you are not
alone. Your pain is not in vain. He is with you and is waiting for you to turn to Him. We
begin with Stacie Orrico’s “There’s Got To Be More,” which so aptly describes this
journey. Listen to the words:
There’s got to be more to life,
than chasing down every temporary high, to satisfy me…
There does have to be more, doesn’t there? There is more. And the pages in this book
will help you to uncover just what that is.
Page 12
Whatever comes your way, God will provide the strength to endure it. If His plan is for
you to learn from the experiences of others, then I am truly honored to write these
words. My prayer for you is that these words will give you hope. Pain is not pleasant
and can oftentimes be unbearable, but it does not need to signal the end. There is
always a reason for the pain, and an opportunity to grow in the Lord. Let these words
speak to you, and let God’s amazing love pour upon you. You deserve it…just ask Him!
And then ask yourself:
If complacency was never intended for a simple caterpillar,
how can it be good enough for you?
I end this introduction with an excerpt from my journal. These words were written
just one week after my world was instantly shattered. I hope you will read them in
that context and never underestimate the power of His amazing love – and know that
He has the same love waiting for you.
I cannot pretend to see into God’s head and know what He is thinking. I will never be
able to do that, nor would I ever want to. But when experiences happen…when pain is
thrown into your life, and you allow yourself to look back at the experience and
realize how necessary it was…pulling it all together is as exciting as solving one of
history’s great mysteries. I find great pleasure in reflecting back…putting all the
Page 13
pieces of the puzzle together, and attempting to discover the powerful plan behind it
all.
I can just picture God looking down at me and saying, “I have big plans for you. But
first, I need your heart.”
Me: “But you have my heart. I pray to you. I go to church. I believe everything you
tell us. I trust my life in your hands. I’m thankful for all the blessings you’ve given
me, and I never forget to tell you that. I raise my children in your love. I serve the
church. I teach Sunday School….”
“But I need your heart.”
Me: “Huh?”
And then he silences Himself, knowing His plan has been put into place and is ready
for full implementation.
I, traveling about my busy life, don’t see it coming. Suddenly my life is torn apart.
Hurt that has hit so deeply I can barely breathe. Pain that is so unbearable I don’t
know how I can go on. Until I fall to my knees, come crawling back to God’s presence
and plead, “help me.”
Page 14
“Finally,” He thinks to Himself. He has me right where He wants me. He has broken
me so terribly that He knows I am ripe for restoration. And then He begins His
incredible work.
“I want you to see what I have seen,” He explains. And He grants me the grace to look
back into my life. To see the life He has seen. The life I thought was so gratifying to
Him. And I see ugliness. I don’t see my husband, whom I believed was largely
responsible for getting me here. Instead, I see myself doing all the things I thought I
was supposed to do, but I see a fog over my heart. I see the bitterness that surrounds
it…so tightly wrapped with resentment it could barely beat. I see hurts that never
healed. I see anger, and I see the blame I’ve attempted to place on somebody else. I
see the way I have reacted to my husband’s behavior over the past year. I see the
unkind remarks, the bitter replies, and the selfish actions. I see what God has seen.
And it’s not a pretty picture.
Still, I feel the emptiness. The emptiness I have waited for my husband to fill. The
longing to be loved. The longing to feel incredibly special and appreciated. The
longing to know that the drains of my daily life were worthwhile to somebody. The
longing to be comfortable and at peace in the arms of someone who truly loved me.
The longing to feel the excitement of a new love, or even simple pleasure at seeing
my husband return home from work at night…and the incredible disappointment I feel
knowing that those things will never come again.
Page 15
But He is a good God. He knows what I’m thinking and He knows what I’m feeling. And
He knows I am ready for the next phase of His plan. I have seen what He has seen.
Now He wants me to feel the way He intended me to feel. And suddenly I am
overflowed with His presence. Suddenly, all those empty holes in my life are filled. I
am tingling all over. I am excited. I am restored. I am renewed. And I am gifted with
the knowledge that He is the only one who can fulfill those needs. I have now been
gifted with the wisdom to know that my husband could never do the things I wanted
him to do…he could never fulfill my deepest longings. And the peace that surpasses
all understanding has been laid upon me. My deepest longings belong to God, not to
another earthly being. If we had been meant to provide complete fulfillment for one
another, why would we need God? And while I am not certain about a lot of things in
this life, I am very certain that God did not create us to NOT need Him.
I will never forget that moment when I allowed Him into my heart. I suppose that I
had always possessed an underlying ever-so-small doubt that God could really see
everything; that He could really always be there for the millions of people who
needed Him at any particular moment. But feeling His powerful presence during this
healing; knowing that even though He’s tending to millions of other people
simultaneously and yet feeling as though I was special enough to be the only one,
makes me understand that yes, it is possible. Anything is possible with God.
This has affected every facet of my life. I have been awakened…mind, body and
spirit. My eyes marvel at the beauty that has surrounded me every day, but which
Page 16
often went unnoticed. I feel God’s breath as I ride my bicycle and feel the breeze on
my face. I have experienced a whole new appreciation for my own body, fully
believing that God created it - and everything He creates is perfect. The self
consciousness, inhibitions and fears that had previously surrounded my soul have been
lifted, and I am eternally thankful.
My spirit is soaring inside, ready to explode with joy for this newfound freedom. The
words in the Gospel are different to me now. The familiar words from countless
praise songs have taken on a whole new meaning. “You alone are my heart’s desire,
and I long to worship you.” I get it now! And this awakening is so awesome. He is my
heart’s desire…finally. And I do long to worship Him, for I have discovered that is
where my deepest longings will be fulfilled.
I have always known that God was at the top of the hierarchy here. Or at least He
was supposed to be. First God, then your spouse. Right? My mind knew that, but my
heart apparently didn’t get it. God was so right that He didn’t have my heart. That
was for my husband, or so I thought. But the misery and pain that has surrounded the
past year of our life together is a vivid reminder that I had not given my heart to
Him. Without even realizing this, I had expected my husband to take His place. And
once my heart, mind, soul and strength were in the right place, I felt peace. I felt
power. I felt loved.
Page 17
My moments of refuge in prayer and reflection have proven crucial. It is so easy to
become bombarded with the things of this world and allow unimportant tasks to rob
this time away from me. I must commit to this time with the Lord. This is my
homework. I spend much time making sure my children complete their homework.
Why? Because I don’t want them to fail. I want them to be the best that they can be.
If I don’t do my homework – that is, seeking a meaningful relationship with the Lord –
then I will fail. I don’t want to do that…again. Nor does God want to see any of His
children fail.
This learning adventure does not end there. I have also discovered that being “up on
the mountain” is not permanent in this lifetime. There will be times when I tumble
down, and times when I dive off head first. But I will always know what is waiting for
me when I climb back up. Sometimes I’ll run up. Sometimes it may take me a little
longer as I crawl along with bruised and bloodied knees. But I hope to spend the rest
of my life always striving to get back up to the top, for I never want this feeling to
end.
They’re right…happiness is but a fleeting moment. Joy was meant to sustain. And
nothing of this world can compare to the joyful spirit that God has waiting for every
one of us. He is holding it in His hands, just waiting for us to gratefully receive it.
Page 18
Chapter 2 Everything’s Fine
Song: Who am I, by Casting Crowns
We are living in a world overrun with hurting
people. Of course, there’s the broad scope:
those hurts that plague the headlines of the
newspapers such as violence, hunger, war,
and the loss of innocent lives. There’s also,
however,
the
quiet
personal
hurt
that
surrounds each one of us throughout our daily
lives: the inner, binding hurt that we’ll never
read about in the headlines. It’s the inner hurt we deem unworthy of seeing the light
of day, so we continue burying it with other “more important” issues, and we tell the
world (and ourselves) that everything’s fine.
I spend my days surrounded by people who are fine. When I ask how they’re doing,
they say, “fine.” But when I take the time to really listen and to look into their eyes,
more often than not I sense that they are not really fine at all. I have come to realize
that “fine” is not synonymous with “good.” In fact, I now believe it’s a rather grim
word to describe our state of being. It is used to tell the world we don’t really have a
Page 19
Chapter 2 – Everything’s Fine
justifiable reason to complain…but it also says “don’t ask any more questions, because
if you do, you just might see things I don’t want you to see.” I know. I was fine for
years. I was so good at it, in fact, that I look back and declare myself the Queen of
this masquerade. I masqueraded about life as a happy person, and even my closest
friends and family members didn’t know how empty I was on the inside. How could
they…I couldn’t even admit it to myself.
During the last year of our fallen marriage, my husband and I became inundated with
meaningless tasks. We had been tremendously blessed by God, yet we began pulling
away from Him. We no longer had time for our small covenant group at church so we
stopped going. We were no longer so quick to share our financial resources with others
– instead we begrudgingly tithed only when we thought we could, and hoarded the rest
to acquire new things for ourselves. In our state of fineness, we opened the door just
a tiny crack. Yet that’s all it took to unknowingly invite satan into our lives. Although
neither of us would admit it, we were not fine. We were silently being destroyed.
After sixteen years of marriage, my own interpretation of my husband’s performance
became quite different from everyone else’s. He wasn’t the perfect husband smiling
back from the family photo. Instead I saw him as unappreciative and unloving. The
good qualities in him had become buried beneath my own assessment of the things he
was not. He was no longer any fun. He no longer laughed. His sullen return home from
work became the equivalent of a ton of bricks being unloaded on my head every night.
His mask had become nearly as effective as mine was. He would laugh and have fun in
Page 20
the presence of company, but as soon as they left, he slithered back into his shell of
pity and despair. Oh, how I longed to have fun with my husband, and to laugh with him
as we once did. Instead, the disappointment continued mounting.
I also longed for romance. I wanted my husband to take the time to show me how
much he cared. I wanted his words to be backed up with action. Instead, I grew angry
at his emotionless “I love you” words that became increasingly meaningless. I wanted
him to hold me without expecting anything in return. Instead, I coined the phrase
“Lance Romance” to remind him how deficient he was in this area.
His idea of
romance was touching my hand once a week or so, which meant nothing to me except
that his needs were again first and foremost in his mind. The resentment mounted.
And as it mounted, so did my fantasy-world expectations. Now not even fun and
romance were enough. Now I wanted my knight in shining armor to ride in on his horse
and plead for my forgiveness. I wanted to hear his heartfelt apologies for his
neglectfulness; his inability to show his love. I wanted to hear him declare his
foolishness for not recognizing and appreciating me as his wife, and all the things I had
done for him and for our family.
Cut to commercial.
My fantasy world would have made a great soap opera, don’t you
think? It came complete with a surprise ending. No, my husband
Page 21
never showed up on that big white horse. Instead he rode that horse right into the
arms of another woman.
While the relationship my husband pursued outside of our marriage may have
remained platonic, this made little difference to me. The lies, the hurt, the betrayal,
and the breech of trust cut me just as deeply as any act of unfaithfulness could have.
But as I look back, I can see there was indeed a difference, particularly for my
husband. And I can see that even in the midst of “things gone wrong,” God’s mighty
hand was at work in our lives as He ended the extramarital relationship when He did,
taking care not to allow our marriage to reach the point of complete brokenness which may never have been repaired. Once again I was reminded that the
circumstances He allowed into our lives never exceeded the strength He also sent: He
knew our threshold, and He knew this was enough pain to teach both my husband and
me the lessons we needed to learn.
This realization, however, wasn’t so easy to see in the midst of my pain. The grim
reality that my husband had betrayed my trust shook the very core of my being. And
even though the relationship that my husband pursued remained platonic, this made
no difference to me. Call it what you will, but in my mind, my husband had an affair. I
was utterly shocked; stunned beyond belief. I honestly never thought it would happen
to me. Yet I realize that as one reads the words I shared in the paragraphs above - the
words describing the discontentment that continued to take control of our lives and of
our marriage - it becomes quite obvious: Of course my marriage was destined to end in
Page 22
an affair! But what you must realize is that in reality, the feelings I shared in previous
paragraphs had gone completely unrecognized. I had never faced them and didn’t
even know most of them existed until it was too late. I only knew I was very unhappy,
or at least that’s all I ever admitted to knowing. If you had asked me how things were,
I would have replied, “fine.” If you had pressed, I would have insisted, “yes, we’re
just fine.” Yet if you would have looked into the depths of my soul, you would have
seen the tears that even I could not.
Interestingly, as I was grappling with my inability to sum up the “fineness” that
prevailed in my life – and that continues to prevail throughout much of our society – I
found the answer during a weekly worship service at church. Nearly every Sunday
morning over a period of ten years, I had the privilege of listening to the spirit-filled
Reverend William O’Connell as he preached deeply moving, often life-changing
sermons to his congregation. And on this particular Sunday, he spoke to the very issue
I had been struggling with:
“As I was preparing to spend this particular moment with you, I came
across an interesting piece from the book entitled The Power of
Persuasion: How We are Bought and Sold, by Robert V. Levine. He says
that there is an unusual neurological disorder called anosognia. It is
when an event happens in the right hemisphere of the brain which
paralyzes the left side of the body. As interesting or as tragic as that
is, the most interesting aspect of this neurological event is that when it
happens - and while the left side of the body is completely paralyzed
Page 23
so the person cannot speak, cannot feel themselves, cannot move their
arm, and cannot walk – and when they are asked how they are, they say
they are “fine.” When you ask if anything happened to them, they say
“no.” Despite the tragic circumstances, they are not at all aware that
anything whatsoever has happened to them. I believe that disorder is
prevalent among us spiritually. That events and circumstances happen
to us in our life, and we blissfully go on our journey through our life
and we don’t see that something is terribly wrong – spiritually speaking
– in our life...”
There it is. The one word I have been searching for: Anosognia. Not in the medical
definition, mind you. But in the spiritual definition. I was just fine. And perhaps many
of you are feeling like “everything’s fine.” As women, we tend to make our way
through this world conquering one mounting chore after another. The kids, the career,
the house, the laundry, the dog, the homework, the soccer practice, the
groceries…and oh yes, the husband who oftentimes becomes just another chore. We
are so busy trying to stay busy that we don’t have time to see that something is
terribly wrong. We either ignore the “nudge” as if it’s a burden, or we’re too frozen
with fear to respond. We no longer see the paralysis. Not only do we choose not see it,
we come to believe that it’s okay. We convince ourselves, and those around us, that
“everything’s fine.” It’s that silly notion that admitting we are not fine is a sign of
weakness. But contradictory to that notion is the reality I discovered: Only when I was
ready to admit I was not fine – that I had fallen among the weak – was I able to find
Page 24
strength. Scripture assures us of this in 2 Cor 12:9: “for my strength is made perfect in
weakness” (KJV). As it turned out, my own state of “fineness” had actually been an
insurmountable barrier to receiving that strength.
During my state of “fineness,” my truth was that my unhappiness was driven by the
ways in which my husband had changed over the years, and by all the things my
husband was not. God, however, knew it was time for me to learn the truth. His truth.
And He was waiting to take me by the hand and guide me through the lessons He had
been eager to teach me for a very long time.
While my story may begin with my fallen marriage, “thanks be to God” that this is only
the prelude. What happened next is what I really want to share with you: the journey
of discovery that helped me to see who I had really become, which was also quite
different from the smiling face in the family photo. The remarkable
journey that led to pure joy, which was something I hadn’t felt for a
very long time. And the journey that ultimately filled every empty hole
within me…holes that had left me with deep emotional longings and
emptiness for years. As you will read, my marriage has been restored to
a deeper, more intimate level than we had ever experienced before.
There’s not a day that goes by that I’m not grateful for that. But more
importantly is the miraculous changes that took place in my own life
during my healing. The way God took me by the hand and led me
through the most difficult journey in my life. He performed many
Page 25
miracles in my life, and He left me with no doubt that the Holy Trinity lives – and it
lives within me. That is where it all begins. It does not begin with the person next to
you. It does not begin with a spouse, or anyone else you may seek to blame. It begins
within you.
Remember, too, that Jesus is just as powerful to those who are drawing close to Him
for the first time as He is for someone who's been preaching His good news for years.
He does not have a “minimum years of service” requirement before He will release
these gifts to you, nor is there a bonus plan for senior management. Amazingly, you
are every bit as entitled to receive His love and His power as the Pope! Regardless of
how well you do or do not know Him, He knows you - every part of you. And I am
hoping that the words He has sent through my fingers on this keyboard will help you to
believe that…really believe like never before.
These words were not written specifically for the one who has been on the giving or
receiving end of a troubled marriage. These words were written for all of us who are
walking around in a state of spiritual anosognia, masquerading in a state of “fineness,”
unable to admit that something is terribly wrong. The state may accompany any
number of crises, such as a turbulent marriage, an illness, a new life, the death of a
loved one, or another major life change. But it also may stand alone – perhaps as a
prelude to even greater pain. Whatever the circumstances, the results are the same emptiness, longings, paralyzing fears, the fruitless efforts of filling up that empty
Page 26
tank. These words were written to provide you with a sense of hope. God did not
intend for you to feel this way. And He has provided a way out.
Jesus did not command us to wallow, to absorb ourselves in self pity, or to carry the
weight of the world in our hearts. Instead, He used words like rejoice! Sing praise! Go
into the world in peace. Give me your burdens. We were not created to feel hopeless,
alone, frightened or troubled. He wants to fill us with joy so that His glory shines
through us. He wants us to become a beacon of light for Him, but how can we possibly
do that if we’re wallowing in misery? Throughout the following chapters, I will share
with you how I have discovered this myself.
OK, I know you’re wondering so let’s cut to the chase: How do I know this, and how
am I qualified to lay these words before you? Those types of questions make me smile,
because the truth is, many would argue that I am not qualified. I am not a theologian
or a biblical scholar. I am not a psychologist or a therapist. Chances are, I’m very
much like you, so there is no reason at all to be intimidated by my writings, or to think
yourself unworthy or incapable of experiencing a similar transformation. My spiritual
journey has just begun, yet it has already been a marvelous adventure. Not so long
ago, I was a “surface Christian.” You know the type: someone who calls themselves a
Christian with a belief in God, but someone who (unknowingly) has absolutely no idea
who He really is or what it means to be a Christian. I had never before experienced His
presence in my life – not like this. I wasn’t a Jesus freak, banging people over the head
with a Bible. Heck, I didn’t even have a Bible! But in my brokenness, He patiently
Page 27
waited for me to turn to Him, as if He’d been waiting for years. And as I would later
learn, indeed He had.
My point is that I am still very much a novice. My knowledge of the Word is limited,
and therefore I cannot quote scripture verses for every lesson I have learned. While I
have seen from many extraordinary Christians what a remarkable gift it is to be able
to use the Word as a sword, I don’t have it…not yet, anyway. But I have also learned
that God did not command us to “wait until you’re a biblical scholar and then tell
everyone about it!” He simply commanded us to tell the good news. And now, He has
filled me with a message to share and a desire to help others experience His peace
and freedom by developing a personal, intimate relationship with Him. While I may
not have the words to base all of my experiences on scripture, I can share the
awesome way God has moved in me and has made His presence known. This
experience has left me with an undeniable conviction that it is real. Every bit of it.
While most of my experiences were emotional in nature, such as the incredible peace I
received, God did manage to send some more tangible proof along the way. Like the
Bible verses He sent to me as I prayed. This wacky stuff happens only to those who are
really plugged in – it doesn’t happen to people like me, I once believed. But as I knelt
at my bedside, my many doubts and disbeliefs went out the window. The first time it
happened, I was praying that my husband’s heart would soften; that he would seek
forgiveness and would recommit his life to the Lord. He was a good man, a Christian
man, but I had seen him slipping away over the past year. I fretted over the possibility
Page 28
that he had strayed so far that he could no longer tell the difference between right
and wrong, and that perhaps his heart had been so hardened that the goodness within
him may never return. I prayed that he would turn his heart back to the Lord and let
Him in once again. Suddenly I felt as though I had been instructed to get my Bible.
Then, the thought “Jeremiah 24:7” literally popped into my head. Nearly panicked, I
opened my eyes to see if anyone was there
whispering quiet thoughts into my subconscious. But
nobody was there. Nobody I could see, anyway. Full
of doubt, I talked openly to myself, almost daring
Him to reveal Himself: “Okay, let’s see if this is
really real.” I walked into my closet to get my Bible,
which I had purchased just one week prior, and
returned to my bedside. I looked around one last
time to make sure nobody was there – nobody who
could have me institutionalized in case I really had gone crazy. I began thumbing
through the pages, wondering if there even was such a book called Jeremiah (I wasn’t
exaggerating when I confessed my limited knowledge of the Word!). But low and
behold, I found it. “Jeremiah 24, huh” I muttered. “….Let’s see if this thing even goes
up to 24.” When I found that very chapter, it was the last “proof” I needed to fully
accept the fact that He was indeed listening. Not only was He listening, He was
speaking to me.
Page 29
Jeremiah 24:7 “And I will give them a heart to know me, that I [am] the LORD:
and they shall be my people, and I will be their God: for they shall return unto
me with their whole heart.” (KJV)
There it was: a direct answer to my prayer. I emphasize – this was not simply a
coincidence. If you’ve held a Bible and looked at the massive amount of writings
tucked inside the covers (over 2,000 pages), you understand there is simply no way I
could have flipped to the one verse that answered my prayers…which happened to be
found in a book I didn’t even know existed. Not a chance. This was only the beginning
of many wonderful moments to come, but I share this particular encounter with you
now in case you, too, still have doubts.
Incidentally, I would later learn that as I was saying that prayer and receiving the
message contained in Jeremiah 24:7, the Lord was indeed working on my husband. He
rescued his heart before my husband reached the point of no return, and He sent His
band of angels - earthly angels - from our church congregation to lovingly reach out
and help him find his way back. In their midst, my husband learned of the importance
of repentance, the power of forgiveness, and the meaning of true love and friendships.
As the Lord promised me, He gave my husband a heart to know Him and my husband
did return to the Lord with his whole heart. I was not aware of the full ramifications of
this until much later, but I reflect in awe on this moment, realizing that as the Lord
sent me His promise, He was simultaneously working to fulfill it.
Page 30
I will probably never meet the King of Spain. I will probably never have tea with the
reigning royalty of England. I may never even meet a seated President of the
United States. Admittedly, I’m just not important enough! But what a feeling
to know that the King of the World, the King of all Kings, thinks I’m important
enough to comfort me in my time of need. He takes the time to listen to me.
Always. And He hears you, too…he really does.
I ask you to read these words with an open heart. Believe He can touch you
the way He has touched me. Believe He wants you to draw closer and to feel
His loving presence. Believe He wants you to be the extraordinary person He
created you to be. The person you want to see looking back at you in the mirror. But
until you accept the reality that you are not fine, you will never see that beautiful
reflection.
Chapter 3 Mirror, Mirror on the Wall
Song: He Will Look After You, by Cheri Keaggy
Beaten, broken, kicked and dragged. That’s pretty much how I felt upon discovering
the lies my husband had been pouring upon me. The adjectives could go on endlessly:
betrayed, humiliated, and…well…furious. I don’t want anyone reading this to think
these feelings were not real – that infidelity (even a watered-down version) is
expected to be experienced with a Pollyanna attitude. It was painful. And while my
recovery has been remarkable, there will always be a part of me that remembers the
agony. A part of me that will always be aware that something was robbed away from
me…naiveté, perhaps, or maybe the ability to completely trust without recalling what
once was. As I am oftentimes reminded, forgiving doesn’t mean forgetting. It means
being able to recall without being destroyed by the memory. Through prayer and
counseling, that is where I am at today. But it wasn’t easy.
Regardless of your experiences, the road to healing will not be easy. The road to selfrealization is often treacherous. But it is one that must be traveled.
I went into marriage with a preconceived notion about infidelity: nobody would ever
do that to me, and if they ever did, they’d never get a second chance. Period. But I
have learned that those preconceived vows and judgments have a funny way of
returning one day to bite us in the …. Well, you get the point. Anyway, that is where I
Page 31
Page 32
Chapter 3 – Mirror, Mirror on the Wall
ended up - exactly where I vowed I would never be.
And I was devastated. But
somewhere in that heaping pile of self pity, I realized I had a choice to make. I could
call out to God, but then I would have to listen to what He had to say. Or, I could do it
myself and stand by my lifelong vow never to give him a second chance. The choice
boiled down to pride versus faith, and I chose pride.
My mind became an out-of-control movie reel,
continually replaying all the lies my husband had told
me. I couldn’t stop my head from filling with images of
what he must have been doing when he left our home
to be with her, while I - the trusting foolish wife stayed behind taking care of our children and cleaning
his house. Frankly, I didn’t care what God’s plan was. I
wanted out! I was ready to slam the door shut to my
marriage and open a new door to the rest of my life.
But try as I did, I just couldn’t turn my back and walk
away. I could feel God continuing to pull me back, as if a powerful magnetic force
refused to release me. This made me even angrier, and there were times when I yelled
at Him “Why won’t you let me leave?” Why couldn’t I just walk away, as I had done
with every other relationship in my life that didn’t go exactly as planned? I struggled
with the big question lingering in my mind: Who is this God – He who supposedly loved
me, yet could let this happen to me…to us. The question replayed over and over in my
mind, until finally I surrendered.
Page 33
I suppose I expected Him to be my confidant. To comfort me and to let me know I was
doing the right thing. To assure me He would protect both me and my children. And to
promise me it would never happen again. But He didn’t. Instead He handed me a
mirror.
The mirror is a funny thing. It can bring out the best in you, or it can bring out the
worst. I notice this also with my children. My fanciful daughter will dance with glee in
front of the mirror when she’s feeling good about herself. And yet when I’ve finally
coaxed her into wearing that pretty dress she loathes, I have to guide her resistant
body to the mirror in hopes she will see what I see. “See how pretty you look?” I
reassure her. But upon seeing her slumped posture and sullen face, it quickly becomes
evident that no matter how long we stand in front of the mirror with that dress on,
she is never going to like what she sees.
I felt God doing the same with me.
He handed me His beautiful mirror. It was created by the finest
craftsmanship, and its golden frame was adorned with the finest of
jewels. The handle felt warm and secure, and it molded perfectly in
my hand. I had never seen such crystal clear glass: no streaks, no little
fingerprints, no toothpaste splatters. I reluctantly accepted the mirror
Page 34
He was offering me, carefully admiring its beauty but being equally as careful not to
catch my own reflection…not even a glimpse. “See how pretty you look?” He reassures
me. But I don’t want to look. “Go on,” He gently urges. Like my daughter, my slumped
posture and sullen face tell the world I don’t like what I see. Yet He promises that one
day, if I trust Him, He will teach me to dance with glee in front of the mirror once
again.
That mirror was a painful place to begin. As I reluctantly took hold of the mirror, I was
faced with the inevitable question: Was my husband entirely to blame for our fallen
marriage? The answer, I would soon learn, was no. We both found our escapes from
the turmoil: His led to betrayal while mine led to a life consumed with resentment,
anger and bitterness. Both escapes were awful. Both were sinful. And both were
devastating to our family. My quiet anger may not have been so visible, but it was
sinful nonetheless. And I have learned that God does not assign a weighted average to
our sins.
Prior to this realization, I would have taken the mirror and asked
the leading question:
“Mirror, mirror on the wall; who’s the
worst sinner of all?” gloating when the mirror responded as I
would have: “Why, it’s your husband of course.” But now, upon
seeing my own reflection, I became certain that He was not
looking down upon us declaring me the victor. Suddenly it was no
Page 35
longer a game I was winning. We were both big losers in this game of life and I became
painfully aware that my journey back to the winning board relied on one thing only and my husband had nothing to do with it. I needed to allow Christ to lead me back
and to guide me through the rest of the game. As my dear friend Jody once told me,
“The day you realize you have nothing if you don’t have God is the day you are
changed forever.” This was my day. When my focus turned away from “poor me” and
back toward God, I was indeed a changed person.
When the Mirror is Behind the Glass
When my firstborn baby was six months old, she and I ventured out together for an oil
change. I pulled up to the service garage at Oil Pro and hopped out to tell the
attendant I’d arrived. I didn’t notice what I’d actually done until it was too late. I had
walked only steps away from the car, just close enough to both keep an eye on my
baby and get within earshot of the attendant. As I returned to my car, motor running
and all, I peeked in the window at my darling little girl, snug and safe in her car seat.
But wait. The thoughts began racing in my head: The engine is running…she’s
inside…I’m standing out here… Panic-stricken, I realized I had locked her inside the
car. My heart was racing. My hands were shaking. Still, I gently called to her, and with
a smile on my face, I told her “Mommy will be right back.” I wanted to run back to the
attendant and scream “HELP ME!” But I extinguished that over-reaction and calmly
asked the man for help. “I’ve locked my baby in the car,” I sheepishly confessed. Soon
Page 36
my car was surrounded by mechanics, all trying their best to unlock my doors with
coat hangers and anything else they could find. But this thief-proofed car was not
going to allow a break in! As they surrounded the car, I continued to reassure my little
girl, making funny faces, dancing around a bit, all the while with a smile on my face.
“It’s going to be okay,” I reassured her. “Mommy is right here.”
Finally, one of the men offered an alternative suggestion. “Ma’am, if that were my kid
in the car, I’d break the window.” Well, thank you very much for that ridiculous
suggestion, I thought to myself. My little girl was just fine. Couldn’t he see she was
still smiling back at me? Breaking the window was a bit overkill, I thought. Why invite
all the commotion that a shattered window would cause? Oh yes, and then there’s the
expense – not to mention the inconvenience - of repairing it. Who had time for that?
Geesh…chill, will you?
We did manage to have a happy ending to the story. I eventually calmed down enough
to remember a spare set of keys I had entrusted with a dear neighbor, and he lived
only five minutes away. So I telephoned him and he saved the day. I was relieved
when he pulled into the parking lot, but that relief didn’t replace the underlying panic
and anxiety I had felt only moments earlier – and was perhaps still there. Although this
incident was certainly not one of my better parenting moments, I knew it would have
great significance one day. That day has arrived.
Page 37
Years later, I see that I needed an oil change. I was still running, still cruising through
life, but since my engine wasn’t smoking with warning lights flashing, I reasoned that
an oil change wasn’t really necessary. Who had time? But that engine did begin to
smoke, and I needed to get inside and drive to the nearest Oil Pro. By then, though,
the life that was intended for me was locked behind the glass. But really…I was fine
(ugh, there’s that word again). Why cause a
commotion by shattering the glass, when
after all, everything was fine? I didn’t need
help. I was strong. I had been strong my
whole life. I had handled every obstacle that
ever came my way, and I would handle this
one. What I failed to realize was that my way
of handling all of the traumas in my life was
by piling them up in the backseat, locking the
door, and carrying on with my life. When I
looked through the window, they stared back
at me. So I quickly learned not to look. I learned never to stop long enough to see
what was really piling up back there. If I didn’t look through the window, I didn’t have
to face them. And then I would be just fine.
But it didn’t work this time. My heart was hurting so badly, and I couldn’t find the
keys. Panic-stricken, I fumbled around wondering: How do I unlock this thing? Where
are my keys? Just like the panic that overcame me when I realized there was just no
Page 38
way I could reach my little girl. I could see her – she was right there – but I was unable
to penetrate the glass that separated us. And I was too rational to break that glass.
Like I did with my daughter, I managed to put on a happy face and go about my life,
showing the world I was just fine. But in reality, I couldn’t satisfy my deepest longings
because I wasn’t allowing the one and only thing that could satisfy them into my glassencased heart. And I didn’t have the guts to shatter the glass. Heavens no…why cause
all that commotion? Why spend the money to repair a broken window, when
everything’s eventually going to be okay? Besides, I reasoned, I couldn’t possibly
squeeze one more obligation into my growing list of tasks.
Since I chose to ignore it, God shattered it for me, turning my life into ugly bits of
shrapnel lying before me.
That mess turned out to be the best thing that ever
happened to me. It allowed God to pick up those tiny bits and put me back together
again the way He saw fit - not the jumbled mess I had created. And when He had
finished, I was a new person. I was free of anger; the seeds of bitterness had been
uprooted; the discontentment and rage that had swirled violently within me was gone.
The storm was over, and I was left basking in the sweetness of His peace.
Unlike that time in the car, everything in life is not going to be okay until that window
is destroyed and shattered (and perhaps we should put a neon orange sticker over the
heap of broken glass that reads:
“WARNING:
CONTAMINATED. DO NOT REUSE”
Page 39
so the next wounded soul that comes along doesn’t seek refuge behind it). Only then
can you find your key. Still, a key by itself is worthless. It takes effort to pick up that
key and use it - and only then can the key be allowed to set you free. The key, you
see, is God and He will unlock your heart and open it in new and wonderful ways.
Ways you never knew were possible. But you have to let Him.
The glass is the barrier we build to protect ourselves from past hurts, buried anger,
and events in our lives that have caused emotional distress. But in reality, the glass
doesn’t protect us at all. Rather, it allows the past to continually haunt us as a slow,
torturous hurt that festers over the years and holds us captive. Only when this glass is
shattered can God’s healing presence flow into our hearts, into the very root of the
pain, and enable us to experience true freedom.
The shattering of this glass will hurt; the cuts may cause great pain and oftentimes we
need help with this. Oftentimes we are simply unable to dig deep enough, or to bear
the pain alone. Prior to this realization I would never have sought counseling.
Counseling, I thought, was for people who couldn’t handle their own problems…and by
now we all know I was “just fine,” right? I was wrong. Without the support and
encouragement of my extensive circle of Godly friends, spiritual advisers within my
church family, a wonderful earthly counselor and the great Heavenly counselor, I am
certain the rest of my life would have played out quite differently, tightly bound by
anger, distrust, and deep wounding hurts. Instead, I am joyful, eager for every new
day, and eternally grateful for the healing that has taken place in my life.
Page 40
It is often tempting – and certainly much easier – to blame someone else for everything
that’s gone wrong, particularly when a failed marriage is staring you in the face. It’s
so easy to find someone else to blame for the way we are feeling about ourselves. We
live in an imperfect world, and our paths cross imperfect people every day. OK, some
are more imperfect than others, and some of these imperfections leave a lasting
imprint on our lives. The key is to not become overpowered by those imprints – not to
let them destroy us.
But it really is so easy to blame someone else, isn’t it? Depending upon how deeply you
reach, you can always come up with a quick excuse: I’m angry because that driver cut
me off; the kids in school used to tease or taunt me so I feel worthless; my mother
was selfish and I don’t want to be like her so that’s why I’m a martyr now; I’m bitter
because my husband cheated on me; I’m like this because my father abused me; I feel
rejected because my wife isn’t “Suzie Sunshine” when I return home from work. In the
words of a great Jerry Seinfeld episode: yada, yada, yada. There is an abundance of
people to blame throughout our lifetime; everyone from the delivery room nurse on
the day you were born, to the inconsiderate driver who pulled out in front of you this
morning. Each and every day there is an escape; there is a reason or an excuse not to
look at yourself. And why bother, after all – it’s their fault.
Only you can stop the excuses. Only you can seek to learn His truth. I never
understood that before – until I allowed the Lord to take control of my journey. In his
Page 41
Toward a Growing Marriage seminar, Dr. Gary Chapman emphasizes the need to first
look into the mirror. He states that, in a troubled marriage, the common response is
to describe the problem in terms of our spouse’s behavior. “It’s his fault!” But in
offering the biblical response found in Matthew 7:1-5 “You hypocrite, first take the
beam out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from
your brother’s eye,” Dr. Chapman affirms that it all begins with the beam. I am not
advocating we take the blame for everything around us. That’s not what this passage
is about. I am not to blame for my husband’s choices, for example. It’s the way I chose
to react to them that was very un-Christian like. I had every right to be hurt; to be
angry. But I allowed those feelings to take hold and turn me into a bitter, vengeful
person. That was my beam. Only when I removed the beam, by the grace of God,
could I see the situation for what it really was – and allow myself to be led by the Holy
Spirit, in whatever path He chose to lead me.
Look inside yourself first “and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your
brother’s eye.” Find the courage to take the mirror being offered to you and honestly
absorb the reflection staring back. Ask the Lord to show you what He wants you to
see. Allow the Spirit to touch you when you ask, “Lord, what is wrong with me? Show
me where I’m failing.” Then take the time to listen. You might be surprised to learn
what the Lord is calling you to clean up.
Chapter 4 Spring Cleaning
Song: Lay it Down, by Cheri Keaggy
I detest moving. I suppose it’s not the actual act of
moving that I detest so much – it’s all the things that
lead up to it. You see, when moving day comes along,
there’s no longer anywhere to hide the things you
don’t really want. There are no more caverns to tuck
away sentimental memorabilia or items that, for
whatever reason, you can’t seem to throw out. The
overwhelming accumulation of clutter stares you in
the eye, almost daring you to tackle it. So you begin
the daunting task and consume your life with boxes
upon boxes, garbage bag after garbage bag, until
success! The home is vacant and not one square foot is
left sheltered from the naked eye.
The closets are particularly difficult for me to tackle. My friends may enter my home
and wonder how I can keep it looking so clean and kept. But Lord, don’t ever let them
go into my closets! Hidden deep inside those little caverns are things that might even
be considered toxic. But what does it matter - nobody can see it anyway, present
company included. At least not until moving day.
Page 43
Chapter 4 – Spring Cleaning
I had the pleasure of reliving this experience recently. We were moving from our home
of six years. And now you know – that means six years without cleaning the closets. Six
years! Oh sure, I vacuumed every now and then, and sometimes I even ran a duster
over the clothes racks. But I never touched the places deep inside where nobody could
see. The task was just too overwhelming to even consider over those six years.
Someday, I assured myself, I’d get to it. But I never did. And now with empty boxes
awaiting to be filled, I reluctantly began the dirty work.
Clothes that hadn’t fit in years. Shoes that had never fit. Stacks of papers and photos I
had never known what to do with, so they assumed permanent residence in my closet.
Bags and boxes I rediscovered in my closet, holding forgotten “treasures” to (and
from) the children. And mounds of dust. Not one crevice was free of dust – and I mean
lots of it. I’m particularly embarrassed to admit the cobwebs I discovered in the
farthest corners where my duster could never reach. As my body was bombarded with
dust particles, I was having a sneeze-fest in my closet; wheezing and itching while my
allergies kicked into high-gear. It wasn’t pleasant, and it couldn’t end quickly enough.
I was miserable, both emotionally and physically, as I sifted through the garbage,
deciphering between “give away,” “throw away,” and “pack.”
But, alas! I did it. I made my way through the clutter and scrubbed the closet from
floor to ceiling. After getting some fresh air (and Benadryl for my allergies), I stood
Page 44
and admired my feat. That task had been staring me in the face for years – and finally
it was done.
What about you? Can you crawl back into the very deepest corner of your closet? When
you give it the ‘ole finger test, does your finger return in a semi-sanitary state, or is it
covered with dust and other non-identifiable particles? Try it. It’s okay - nobody’s
looking. And even if it is dusty back there, nobody ever has to know.
The problem is…you know.
It occurred to me that our lives are much like our closets. What do you find when you
crawl into the very deepest corner of your soul? Is it fresh and clean, or is it marred
with dust…scars, perhaps? Unwanted memories? Past hurts?
I was abruptly awakened to the fact that my life had become consumed with the past.
I had become trapped in a world full of past hurts, hidden thoughts and secret worries.
This, I knew, had nothing to do with my husband. This, I knew, had plagued my entire
life like a dark shadow I couldn’t escape from. Up until this point, it had become
second nature to turn and look the other way, pretending not to see it. But now, with
the mirror in front of me, the game of pretending was over. I knew in my heart of
hearts that for many, many years, the shadows of my past had prevented me from
truly living in the present.
Page 45
I felt like I needed to gather up the dreadful things of my past and hand them over –
like the “give away” pile of clothing from my closet which I had taken to our church’s
thrift shop. Until I had gotten rid of those unworn and unwanted articles of clothing,
they had overrun my closet space, stifling the rest of my “good clothes” and causing
them to become wrinkled, squashed and unable to breathe because of the garbage
surrounding them. Through this experience, I learned of the many parallels between
my cluttered closets and my life: not only did my closets need a good cleaning, but my
soul needed it as well. I needed to allow the air to flow freely in my closet; and allow
the spirit to flow freely in my heart. I needed to allow freshness to re-enter my closet;
and allow fresh faith to re-enter my soul.
But there was a problem with this realization. I knew where to take that unwanted
clothing, and I knew where to discard the things that would be of no use to anyone
else. Trouble was, I had no idea where to take all those unwanted worries. Where do
you discard those hurts that will never do you - or anyone else - any good? We cling to
them in desperation, as if they are a treasured part of our past like a cherished photo
album. But they are not.
Believe it or not, there is somebody who actually WANTS that stuff! There is so much
truth to the old saying, “one man’s garbage is another man’s treasure.” We are God’s
treasure. Each and every one of us. Every bit of us. He’s not just interested in our
happy side. He doesn’t just love us when we’re smiling and in a good mood. He truly
wants it all. In bad times, He wants us to run to Him. We can’t hide anything from
Page 46
Him, so we might as well be honest. Open up and tell Him your worries. And if you
look up, you might just see the craziest, most unimaginable classified ad:
Wanted: Worries. Problems. Burdens. Or any combination
thereof. Call for immediate pick-up.
Capture them all. Close your eyes and imagine His big, strong, beautiful hands
reaching down from the heavens above. Clasp your burdens tightly in your hands, and
stretch your arms up toward the sky. You don’t have to reach too far – His hands are
there waiting. He gently unfolds your hands and takes all your worries into His hands,
where He can deal with them as He sees fit. They’re no longer yours. You smile at the
sense of peace; at the relief that’s overcome your soul. And He smiles at your
obedience. Your willingness to trust Him.
Few things in life are without a catch, and this is no exception. Surely it can’t be as
easy as it sounds, right? The catch is…this little exercise requires honesty. It requires a
willingness to behold that mirror and see everything it is trying to tell you. And it
requires an acceptance of God’s amazing grace to get you through it.
From my experience, I am convinced that a complete purge of this garbage can only
happen with God’s grace. He is the great healer, after all, and He stands by in His
faithfulness, ready to show you the way. One of the many blessings He has placed in
Page 47
my life is Regina, a spirit-filled Godly woman whom I lovingly refer to as my prayer
warrior. The Lord has gifted her with an incredible prayer ministry, and a willingness
to share that ministry to spread His love and healing to those around her. I am certain
it was no accident that I became one of “those around her” several years ago. At that
time, I had no idea how much I would come to need her, and how crucial her gifts
would be to my healing.
The amazing prayer sessions I describe throughout the
following chapters were facilitated primarily by Regina. I had neither the knowledge
nor the focus to accomplish these things on my own, and chances are you may not
either. Everyone needs a Regina in their life: someone who embraces the presence of
the Holy Spirit, someone who can be a spiritual mentor standing on the word of God,
and someone who has been gifted with a ministry for prayer and healing – and who is
willing to share it. If you don’t have someone like this in your life, pray that the Lord
brings a Godly person into your life who can fill this role. We were not meant to go
through this alone, and as difficult as it is to share this stuff with others, we simply
must.
Strength
As a young girl, music became instrumental in my handling of stress, helping me to
cope with feelings I had which I couldn’t seem to talk about. Located in rural Iowa,
our large, old home sat on a quiet residential street corner near the outskirts of town,
bordered by neighboring homes, a manufacturing plant, and a familiar Iowa cornfield.
Inside, I vividly recall the grand oak staircase leading upstairs to my bedroom – the
Page 48
pathway which became my evacuation route when life became too overwhelming. In
my safe haven, I blasted my music while the rest of the world (including that once
quiet residential street corner) waited for me to release steam. I remember sitting on
my bed, gazing out my window and staring at the ancient-looking willow tree right
outside, wishing I could take hold of one of its strong branches and swing away to a
more peaceful life; away from my current crisis-du-jour. But upon realizing that
wasn’t an option, I allowed myself to be carried away by the lyrics blaring from my
stereo as I struggled to deal with the issue at hand. And whatever it was, I dealt with
it. I was strong. I handled it. And when I was finished, I wiped the tears, pulled myself
together, and left my room ready to conquer the world once again. I subscribed to
the “never let ‘em see you sweat” philosophy, and I was very good at pulling it off. I
never spoke of the pain, and I dealt with it the only way I knew how. I buried it.
Lyrics from decades ago still ring in my head today – although they probably shouldn’t.
My taste in music wasn’t exactly a parent’s dream, with artists such as Ted Nugent,
Nazareth or Kiss. But fortunately my interests were more varied in the earlier years,
and included artists such as The Carpenters and Helen Reddy. Now picture a ten-yearold girl singing along with Helen Reddy, belting out these words:
Page 49
I am woman, hear me roar
In numbers too big to ignore
And I know too much to go back an' pretend
'cause I've heard it all before
And I've been down there on the floor
No one's ever gonna keep me down again…
Oh yes I am wise
But it's wisdom born of pain
Yes, I've paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to, I can do anything
I am strong; I am invincible…
I am woman
What a sight I must have been. It really is a wonderful song, and simply writing those
words makes me want to stand up and bellow again. The lyrics are poignant, wellmeaning, and summarize a lifetime of learning experiences concisely into a few
sentences. I grew up subscribing to the message contained in these lyrics, believing I
was strong, invincible, and determined not to let anything or anyone “keep me down
again.” But the lyrics are completely wrong! We do indeed gain wisdom from our
pain, and when we pay that price, we have the opportunity to gain so much more than
we ever lost. But…we cannot do it alone. Our strength is only temporary; His is
Page 50
eternal. True, we may tell ourselves we can do it – we are strong – we are invincible.
And we may convincingly play the part of the unshaken pillar of strength. But sooner
or later, that fallacy catches up with us and we become exhausted, frustrated, bitter
and angry that we continually have to be strong and nobody is there to catch us when
we’re finally ready to fall. And we will fall. The landing, however, is a little gentler
when you rely upon heavenly hands to catch you. If only we could make one minor
change to those lyrics, re-make the song, and send it into the households of every
young woman, it would read more like this:
I am strong (in the Lord)
I am invincible (in the Lord)
I am woman
Our strength alone will never be enough to sustain us throughout this lifetime. Oh, I
put up a good fight over the years and it took nearly forty years for my foundation to
finally crumble beneath me. But it happened. The fall of my marriage was the
hurricane that finally blew over this otherwise sustainable foundation of mine. My
world crumbled beneath me, and for the first time of my life, I became aware that I
could not do it alone. Looking back through the years, I can see that God did indeed
gift me with great strength. What I never realized, however, was that He never
intended for me to use it alone.
I grew up strong. Events in my life would shake me, but never break me. I am not one
of those people who seemingly sailed through life on the effortless path already
Page 51
perfectly paved for them. I’ve been a child of divorce – twice, actually. I’ve been
exposed to alcoholism and abuse from a young age. I’ve watched my mother’s tears
fall because she couldn’t afford to put food on the table, and I’ve been humbled by
watching that same proud mother stand in line for government-supplied cheese and
peanut butter. I’ve watched a sibling destroy her life with drugs and rebellion, and
I’ve been part of the family that was nearly destroyed by those choices.
Obstacles came and went, but they only made me stronger. Adversity seemed to bring
out the best in me, or perhaps it was just a driven desire to prove others wrong. In
high school, I became the subject of vile bathroom graffiti one week, yet was crowned
Homecoming Queen the next week. My decision to play high school basketball was
ridiculed with words like “softball is your sport - you’ll never make it in basketball,”
yet by the end of the season I was named to the all-conference teams for both sports.
I was once told that going to college was a waste of time because “you’ll only get
married anyway,” which probably had something to do with my not only completing
college, but also successfully completing graduate school. OK, sing it with me:
‘cause I’ve heard it all before
And I’ve been down there on the floor
No one’s ever gonna keep me down again….
I had been shaken along the way, perhaps, but never broken. I was strong,
independent, and determined to succeed in spite of the obstacles placed in my way. I
Page 52
still vividly recall those moments today, each and every one of them - along with a
closet full of other experiences that combined to shape the person I would eventually
become. But there was one thing in my life that I could never seem to shake, no
matter how desperately I tried to forget. There was one thing that managed to “keep
me down” even when I wasn’t aware of it. And that one thing was my father.
My father left when I was ten years old, and I haven’t seen him since. Yet I do not
remember crying over his departure. Instead, I stepped up to the plate and promised
myself I would be strong for my mother. I would help her so she would see we really
didn’t need him. I was going to help her believe we were going to be just fine. And
truthfully, we were. I was relieved when he was gone. My father was abusive and
when he was around, I lived in fear – fear of his emotional torture and fear of his
excessive punishment. We were all better off without him. Yet I didn’t allow myself to
feel what was really happening. No matter how much I disliked the man, he was my
father. My father hurt me. And he abandoned me.
I hid that pain away for years, having absolutely no idea how much it impacted the
rest of my life. I would later discover that it was this very experience that caused me
never to fully trust anyone, never to allow myself to fully love anyone, and never to
allow myself to fully open my heart to anyone. Because if I did, they might hurt me
like my father did – and that was a pain I was sure I’d never be strong enough to
handle again.
Page 53
It was astonishing to me that I hadn’t realized that implication before. It wasn’t until
after sixteen years of marriage, when my husband’s betrayal stirred the same
emotions within me, that it all became crystal clear.
My husband’s infidelity shattered me. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him, I secretly
scolded myself.
I was hurt by his betrayal, devastated by his rejection. And yet
surprisingly, I couldn’t help but feel a tiny sense of relief. I finally allowed myself to
accept the fact that our marriage had no longer been a happy one, and our
relationship had in fact become a miserable failure. I had to admit to myself that even
I had wrestled with the idea of checking out more than once. And maybe…just
maybe…my husband had just provided me with a ticket out. One way or another, I was
determined that I was never going back to that life of unhappiness, anger and
bitterness. His betrayal had in essence freed me of that cycle and it didn’t really
matter to me if we were ever together again. What mattered was that I had just
received my ticket out of an unhappy life and I knew I would never live like that again.
Yet I was hurt. So hurt that my husband could look into my eyes and lie to me, hurt
that he allowed me to create an illusion-of-a-life that never existed at all, and angry
that he had made a complete fool out of me.
Confused at these conflicting feelings and emotions, and faced with a frightening and
uncertain future, I sought help from Regina. During our ministry time together, Regina
led me in prayer. She asked Jesus to show me what He wanted me to see; what He
wanted me to know about the feelings I was experiencing. All of the sudden I was
Page 54
filled with tears of sadness. She asked me what I was seeing and I said, “my father.” I
briefly summarized: he was not a good father, he was abusive, my parents were
divorced when I was ten, and I hadn’t seen him since. He left and never came back.
“How did that make you feel?” she asked.
“Relieved. Relieved that he was gone. Yet I was hurt that he could leave me like that.
That he could turn away and never look back.”
Aghast! I had uttered those exact same words only moments before, but they were in
reference to my husband’s betrayal – not my father’s. There it was, laid right before
me. The similarities were eerie. The sickness in my stomach grew intense. Two men.
The only two men in my life I had ever trusted and they both betrayed me.
And there was God, in the middle of it all.
A man I was supposed to fully trust. A man I was supposed to give my heart to. A man I
was supposed to surrender all to. A man. Like my father. The thoughts raced through
my head, and suddenly I realized why I could never refer to God as “Father.” That
word was full of negative connotations for me. I never felt loved by my father, yet I
was supposed to believe that this “other” man loved me unconditionally? I was
supposed to trust Him with complete vulnerability, knowing that pain and hurt would
almost certainly come again?
Page 55
No thanks, I thought. Why on earth would I ever want to do that? I’ve never needed to
completely depend on anyone before – I have known since I was a child that I could
count on only one person not to let me down, and that was me. And come on…this God
person. Who was He, anyway? Many times throughout my life I envisioned some grayhaired old man sitting smugly up in the clouds and sending countless obstacles my
way, almost laughing as He planned his next move. “Okay, let’s see how she handles
this one!” Was that who I envisioned God to be? A man who took pleasure in
attempting to trip me up? I believed in a God, but perhaps I never believed He only
wanted the best for me. So how could I ever fully trust Him?
It was as if He was reading my mind (which I’m sure He probably was). With my eyes
still closed, my head filled with visions of two soft, cuddly, rollie-pollie naked babies –
a heartwarming remembrance of our early days with our two beautiful little girls.
They were giving me their wide-eyed toothless smiles, reaching out for me to hold
them. I felt their warmth, their beauty, their innocence. My heart filled with joy and
the tears poured out of my eyes. This time they were tears of happiness, not tears of
pain. I was filled with an incredible sensation of love – the love I have for my children.
His message was then clear. “You see how much you love your children? That is how I
love you. All of you. I always have. And I always will.”
This had a profound effect on me, and on the way I recalled the early years of my life.
I cannot fully explain what I felt in that moment, but it was as if a dark curtain had
Page 56
been lifted and the truth had finally been
revealed. The darkness I’d carried with me
throughout most of my life had been a complete
lie. Unconditional, undying love did exist. And I
was worthy of receiving it. He wasn’t out to get
me. He did love me and He was real. This
astounding revelation makes me wonder how our
lives would be different if we knew just how
much we were loved. Maybe not in our earthly
relationships, but rather by our heavenly Father.
At times, this world – and the people in it - can make us feel sad, lonely, and very
unloved. But the knowledge that His unconditional love is there no matter what is the
one thing worth hanging onto.
“Father, what else to you want Kristi to see?” Regina continued.
I was then reminded once again of my childhood; of traumatic experiences that had
left me with deep scars. I recalled seeing my older sister pinned up against the wall
by my father. While his strong hands held her shoulders against the wall and made
sure she wouldn’t escape his clutches, her head turned away so that her eyes wouldn’t
have to look at the monster in front of her. Her hair was wet with tears, and a stream
of bright red blood dripped down from her nose. As her eyes sought refuge, they met
mine. I looked into her eyes and it was a vision I will never forget. Her eyes were filled
Page 57
with pain, hurt, fear. Yet there was something else there - resolve. An acceptance of
the punishment she was receiving as if she somehow deserved it. Even though I was
only eight years old, I desperately wanted to help her - but I couldn’t. I was overcome
by guilt that instead of protecting her, I allowed my mother to lead me away into my
bedroom where I wouldn’t witness any more. From that moment on, it was never
discussed again. Yet the memory laid buried deep within me, never seeing the light of
day until now. The Lord knew it was there, however, and He spoke to this memory by
reminding me that He was the protector; not me. It wasn’t my job to protect her. Just
as I couldn’t protect my husband from making the decisions that he made. And with
this knowledge, I could free myself from my recurring feelings of failure: if only I
would’ve tried harder, I could’ve stopped it.
Regina and I talked about this for awhile, and she offered a piece of profound advice
that took me awhile to absorb: “Don’t fix the fix that God has sent to fix.” Huh? I
grappled with this for awhile before I understood the message behind it. In essence,
she was telling me that God allows experiences to happen for a reason, and we all
need to go through them. These experiences are not something we can control; not
something we are meant to protect others from. In fact, if we get our hands in the
way, God can’t do His work. And we must trust that He knows what He’s doing.
My husband, for example, was presented with temptation for a reason and he was
given free will to make his own decisions. Perhaps this experience was to make him
stronger or to bring him closer to the Lord upon accepting his weakness. Whatever the
Page 58
reason, I can see now that it was his walk. I can only be accountable to one God, and I
will be judged on my own walk, not the decisions someone else makes on theirs. This,
of course, doesn’t mean I’m given a “green light” to think and behave in any way I
might desire. But if I’m allowing myself to be led by the Holy Spirit, He will guide me
to think and to act according to His will. Through this guidance, I may be presented
with the opportunity to influence another person through thought, word or deed. But
the choices they ultimately make are part of their walk. I have the annoying habit of
assuming responsibility for making everything better – for “fixing” what doesn’t
necessarily need to be fixed.
So this revelation was huge for me. I was able to release myself from taking
responsibility for the actions of those around me and accept the fact that protecting
everyone is not my job. I must do the job I’m called to do, but the ultimate decisions
made by another person are part of their walk.
This important lesson also had more forward-thinking implications. Suddenly I was
aware that I cannot protect my children from experiences they must live through
during this lifetime. Granted, I’m doing my darndest to do just that while they’re
young, but I understand the time will come when I must hand that role of “protector”
over to the Lord. I can teach them to walk in His ways; I can guide and encourage
them along the way; and I can love them always. But ultimately, they are His creation.
He has blessed me with the responsibility of providing His precious creation with the
best possible start. He will mold them as He sees fit. I cannot protect them from all of
Page 59
life’s circumstances any more than I could protect my sister. I will continue to pray for
them everyday, however, acknowledging that the good Lord above has the power to
protect them. I would be lying if I said my prayers for my children include “thy will be
done” instead of “please protect them with everything you’ve got!” But I also know
that like the rest of us, He will provide them with the strength to endure whatever He
brings into their lives.
Surrendering to the Lord is not easily accomplished, particularly when you’re a bit of a
control freak (like me) who likes to get things done the right way (a.k.a. MY way!). But
a new sense of freedom comes with surrendering. It doesn’t mean slacking off with a
‘whatever’ attitude. I still work hard; I still try my darndest. But when things don’t go
as planned, I turn to the Lord for a greater understanding. And I no longer feel like a
failure that I couldn’t hold everything together perfectly. I no longer sentence myself
to a life of misery when I – or others – make mistakes along the way. And when those
mistakes hurt me, I resist the “bury this” urge and no longer internalize the “poor me”
thoughts. I still feel the anger, and I still have the need for a
short-lived pity party, but then I can turn to the Lord and ask
“why” before that anger has a chance to eat me alive. I seek
the lessons to be learned in those hurts, knowing the Lord
allowed those hurts to happen for a reason – and quite
possibly they had nothing to do with me at all.
Whew! Another big relief…another new sense of freedom.
Page 60
I went to Regina thinking that my torment began with my husband. While there’s no
denying that his actions contributed greatly to my pain, there was much more that
needed to be purged from my soul. More than I had ever dreamed. My husband’s
betrayal caused my ultimate explosion, but the spark began smoldering long, long ago.
Wow! I left that ministry time with a sense of freedom I had never known. I was no
longer held captive by the painstaking thought that I was unlovable; that I was
responsible for my father’s rejection and now my husband’s betrayal. I never openly
admitted those thoughts before – they were the ones buried deep inside the closet of
my soul. Like the thoughts preventing me from truly feeling loved or worthy, or the
thoughts preventing me from fully trusting and believing. But this new revelation was
incredible. I was a captive who had been freed. I was also free to forgive. I no longer
held others responsible for the hurts I had felt over the years; for the stifling and
repressed feelings. I did that to me – not them. We can’t control the decisions made
by others, albeit painful at times, but we can control the way we react to those
decisions. I chose resentment and bitterness. Now, however, I was able to choose to
give that all up to God and free my soul.
Just as there’s more than one piece of garbage littering our closets, these were just a
few of the many hurts in my life that needed healing. When the time was right, there
were more revealed and I suspect there are many more still buried. But during our
prayer time, He has shown me that His strength is much more powerful than mine ever
Page 61
was. He has shown me that yes, my heart can be broken but underneath lay a
vulnerable, perfect remnant of a heart and that is all I ever really needed. He has
shown me that losing myself was the best thing that ever happened to me, because
it’s really not about me at all. It’s about Him. And when I was finally able to take the
focus off myself, so many glorious things poured into my life – including Him!
Again I say, we cannot do it alone. But if we surrender our lives to the Lord, we can be
assured that He will provide the strength needed to endure whatever comes our way.
He is strong. He is invincible. He is my God!
I love this picture. It takes me back to a time
not so long ago when we were having our family
portraits taken. My four-year-old daughter
experienced the dreaded melt down, and of
course it came before that Kodak-moment was
captured. She didn’t want to be there any
longer, the sun was hurting her eyes, and she
was tired of everyone telling her to smile.
Longing for comfort, she crawled up into my lap
and snuggled there, knowing she was safe and loved, and it didn’t matter to me that
she didn’t want to smile any more. She didn’t care who was looking and she was
completely oblivious to the fact that a camera was still pointing at her. Her older
Page 62
sister sat nearby and tried to cheer her up, but she continued to nestle her little head
on my chest, until she found that sense of peace she was looking for.
Aren’t there times when we, too, don’t feel like smiling anymore? When we want the
whole world just to go away and leave us alone…just for a little while? Do you then
crawl into your father’s lap for some snuggling? What a ridiculous thought, huh?
During one of his teachings, Jim spoke of our Father’s desire to provide that peaceful
place to snuggle in his lap. I listened, but I just couldn’t grasp what he was saying.
Truthfully, I thought the whole concept was rather silly, but nonetheless I
remembered his words. And now with my new perspective, I understand. Why not
revert back to that infantile instinct? We may be grown women, but we still need a
place to snuggle; a place to feel safe and loved no matter what. Jesus is there waiting
for us to crawl up into his lap and allow Him to hold us lovingly until we feel peaceful
and content once again. He doesn’t care what we’ve done or what we’ve said. And as
shocking as it can be, he knows what we’ve thought…even the most evil of thoughts,
yet he continues to love us and continues to wait for our humble return. He just
wants to love us…unconditionally. And there is no other place you can run to, or
nobody else on this earth who can offer you such love, such power, such hope.
So what about you? Are there things in your closet you hope nobody will ever see?
Cobwebs that perhaps you are not even aware of? Like me, would you be embarrassed
if your friends could see all the dust piling up back there? Dust that you had neglected
and hoped nobody would ever find? Well, take those questions and ask them from a
Page 63
different perspective. Are there things in your past that you are embarrassed about?
Hurts deep inside that you dare not tell anyone, for fear they might be a reflection
upon the kind of person you really are…someone who doesn’t truly deserve to be
loved?
Let it go!
The majority of us have clean-up work to do. The past experiences that prevent us
from feeling God’s peace don’t have to be extreme or devastating in nature. They can
be more subtle, like an unkind comment from a loved one such as “You could stand to
lose a little weight,” or “Why can’t you be more like your sister,” or “You have so
much potential. Why are you wasting it?” Perhaps a parent has led you to believe
there was nothing you ever accomplished that was good enough to make them proud
of you. Or maybe you have made decisions in your life that you are deeply ashamed
of. Take these memories to the Lord and let Him speak to you about them. Let Him
show you how special you are, and how proud He is of you.
Letting it go doesn’t necessarily mean standing on the rooftops and screaming your
life’s pains for the whole world to hear. It means surrendering to God. Share your
cobwebs with the Lord and allow His great healing powers to pour upon you. Allow His
spirit to soothe your soul and allow Him to show you what these pains were really
about. Receive His forgiveness for your unmentionable sins, and ask Him to show you
how to forgive others.
Page 64
He doesn’t plan for everyone to shout His glory from the rooftops. He needs quiet
servants as well. Chances are, one day He will place another hurting soul in your
presence – one who needs to hear of your experiences. When given the opportunity to
lovingly minister to them, share your experiences without fear. Be proud of your
journey and feel good that you are providing them with a sense of hope they may not
have ever known. By doing so, you will be giving them the greatest gift possible. You
see, our great nation is full of wonderful doctors and therapists, and our pharmacies
are full of great medications to help us bear our pain. We are fortunate to live in such
a society with an abundance of resources. But even these great advances have
limitations. To my knowledge, we have not yet pioneered a cure for a broken heart,
nor have we formulated a pill that is proven to heal a wounded soul. The things of this
world only scratch the surface - nothing of this world even comes close to His amazing
healing powers which reach into the very core of our being and miraculously heal us
from the inside out.
I have found that all the inner secrets I have kept over the years have bound me and
have kept me from being free. After all, why would I ever share this pain with anyone
and give them a reason to think less of me…to think that if her own father didn’t love
her, how could there be anything to love? Or why would I allow someone to imagine
the kind of wife I must have been if my husband turned to another woman? But now
that I am free, I’m not embarrassed. I feel victorious. I understand that any hurt I was
ever exposed to did not come because someone thought I deserved it. It came because
Page 65
it allowed the Lord to make me stronger. My experiences made me into the person I
am today, and I am proud of that. Circumstances didn’t win. I chose to let God win.
And in that choice, I feel like a winner as well.
Go through your internal closet. Get rid of your garbage. It serves no purpose other
than to provide a constant and nagging reinforcement of disappointment and
discontentment. Make room for the Holy Spirit to free your heart so you are no longer
stifled from smothering pasts. Don’t wait until spring to begin that cleaning!
Chapter 5 Humpty Dumpty Lives!
Song: Free, by Ginny Owens
Healing. In its simplest form, the word “heal” means
to make healthy again. It’s easy to apply this line of
thinking to a physical hurt. We’ve all had wounds,
whether large or small, that go through the healing
process. As a little girl, I took many falls from my
bicycle onto the pavement below – and must’ve
spent most of my childhood with scraped, bruised or
bloodied knees. I still remember that pain. It hurt so
badly. The burning pain lasted for days and every time I tried to bend my knee the
wound would pull and stretch – and hurt like crazy. Slowly, the open wound began to
form a scab – a cover of protection that allowed the wound to heal from the inside
out. But it never failed; that wound would continually be broken open again many
times along the way. It didn’t hurt quite as much as the first time around. It may have
bled again, but it would always continue to heal. Eventually, when the wound was
healed, the scab would fall off and leave behind fresh new skin, capable of functioning
without the protective coating of the scab. Capable of continuing on without pain.
But can the same be said of our broken hearts? During my time of healing, I felt as
though I were growing a scab. The initial, deep hurt began to heal as God blessed me
Page 67
Chapter 5 – Humpty Dumpty Lives!
beyond words. But every now and then, something happened to trigger the recurrent
pain. A memory, an encounter, a word – something that caused the scab to break open
and begin bleeding from within again. It didn’t hurt quite as deeply as the first time
around. But it was there. As the wound was re-opened, more healing took place. And
like my childhood knees, the wound eventually healed from deep within, and I could
look at life in my fresh new skin.
What good would it have done to put a bandage on my scraped knees if they had never
healed from within? The bandage might have provided a little protection, but the
wound would still hurt like heck, would still interfere with the carrying-on of my daily
life, and would still send pain through my body with every step. The same constraints
are placed on our lives when we allow invisible hurts to fester without healing. We
can’t see them – and neither can anyone else – but we know they’re there and
eventually the pain prevents us from truly living out our lives. Face it: we were meant
to heal.
The memories will never be erased. But when healing occurs, those memories no
longer control us; they no longer bind us. For example, I can now look upon the
experience with my sister that I shared in the previous chapter with compassion and a
new appreciation for the tumultuous events that occurred in her life. But I no longer
blame myself for not being able to shield her from them. I can recall the traumatic
memories involving my father and realize that all of those experiences combined to
help create the character I possess today: one that is kind, empathetic, and
Page 68
understands the potential life implications of a child’s hurts. I like these traits in me.
I do not hate him for those lessons, and I no longer feel sorry for myself for having
lived through them. I feel sorry for my father…truly sorry for him and pray that he has
sought redemption and forgiveness from the Father above.
But wounds typically do not heal without scars, particularly big wounds. And the
wounds within our hearts are no different. I was privileged to attend an Extraordinary
Women conference this year, which was a day full of spiritual encounters and stories
shared by amazing Christians. Al Denison, singer, song writer and marvelous speaker,
shared many stories – one in particular that touched something deep within me, and
the lessons I learned from that story have remained forefront in my mind: We spend so
much time and effort trying to cover up our scars. We seek help in covering the scars
on our face with makeup, or selecting our wardrobe to hide scars on our body. Why
are we so ashamed? Why are we so eager to cover them up? Why do we want so
desperately to forget?
Our scars are the roadmaps to our lives, each one of us holding a different journey.
When healing occurs, we are free to look back upon those scars for what they really
were - opportunities to grow closer to the Lord. When we accomplish that, every
healed scar represents a lesson learned, an experience gained, and a victory declared.
My husband’s betrayal is a deep scar that I will carry to the ends of the earth. In my
initial angst, I told my husband I would never again wear my wedding ring. Never. Even
Page 69
if we miraculously reconciled and restored our relationship,
that ring would never go back on my finger. Our covenant had
been broken. The perfect triangle we shared with God had been
destroyed. And I was sure it could never be fully restored
without at least a small visible crack. My handy dandy hot glue
gun has come to the rescue of many broken items in our house,
but even with this tough bond, there is always a visible
crack…evidence that there was a time when it wasn’t truly whole. And so went my
reasoning behind my vow. If we ever got to a point when the anger was gone and when
I could forgive, and when we were both convinced we really did want to spend the
rest of our lives together, I did not want that wedding ring as a constant reminder of
the betrayal and of the resulting hurt that our broken marriage caused me. Instead
(and here goes more evidence that I missed my calling as a soap opera writer), he
would fall to his knees and recommit himself to our marriage - and to his faithfulness with a new ring.
But as healing took place in my life, so did a new revelation. The truth is, I don’t want
to forget. Not any of it. I never want to forget the hurt I experienced or the complete
devastation I felt. I never want to forget the sight of my own life shattered into tiny
bits before me. And most of all, I never want to forget the way God touched me
through my pain. His incredible power of love, His forgiveness, His compassion. The
incredible way He does know what’s best. And the way He held my hand and guided
me through it all. In essence, my wedding ring has become a scar. A vivid reminder of
Page 70
our weakness and vulnerability, of our sinful nature, and of our need to keep our Lord
and Savior in the center of our lives and relationships.
I share the following words from my dear friend, Betty, a Godly woman who has shared
her faith and her wisdom with me throughout my journey. She wrote these words after
Hurricane Andrew hit Marco Island, Florida with a vengeance in 1992 and she was
involved in the devastating aftermath. But knowing that the insight of the message
would provide me with encouragement during my time of healing, she passed these
words along to me:
"I have learned one very good lesson from Andrew, and that is: Through
the eyes of disaster we see what really is important. Humpty Dumpty
can be put back together again and although his shell is no longer
without cracks, he is more beautiful because the cracks so delicately
pieced together represent the miracle. My thanks especially to Andrew."
I am a living Humpty Dumpty, thankful for the miraculous way the Lord pieced me
back together. My shell is not without its blemishes, but the cracks haven’t destroyed
me. In fact, they have made me stronger and have resulted in a newfound freedom
and joyfulness I never dreamed possible. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men
may not have been able to put Humpty Dumpty back together again, but my King
beautifully restored me…bit by bit; piece by piece.
Page 71
Out There in Pink
A couple of years ago, our church family lost a dear friend. Miss Sarah, as my children
referred to her, was “out there.” She bordered on flamboyancy. This radiant southern
belle spoke her mind, and she wore her bright colors just as boldly. Nobody ever had
to wonder if she loved the Lord – she told everybody. And nobody ever had to wonder
if she liked pink – she wore it proudly.
It wasn’t until her passing that I realized how much I admired her. I loved watching
Sarah being “out there.” But as I look back, I realize that as I watched her, there was
a piece of my soul that wanted to be “out there” too…a piece that had been buried
beneath the rubbish of my life and had gone completely unnoticed. Until now.
Perhaps my journey actually began at Sarah’s funeral. Perhaps as I looked around at
her loved ones, and listened to the stories they shared of Sarah’s life, I wondered
about myself. If this had been my funeral, what would my loved ones be talking about?
Would anyone know what hobbies I left behind? Would anyone recall how I loved to
laugh? Would anyone be reminded of me when they saw my favorite color? Regretful as
it was, I knew that most of these questions could not be answered with a “yes,”
because the truth was, there weren’t too many people who really knew me. Not
because they didn’t care, but because I chose not to share myself, my true self, with
anyone. I was more comfortable behind the mask I wore, and felt much safer behind
the walls I had built. To be “out there” meant losing those things, and I had never
Page 72
been able – or willing – to do that. Perhaps that became not so much a choice of
consciousness, but rather a choice of necessity.
I had allowed my role, or my purpose, to become defined in terms of someone else. I
was a mother. I was a wife. I was this or that, but I was no longer “me.” I don’t even
think I knew who I was anymore. It was a sobering moment, really - to reflect upon
the number of years I had spent existing rather than living. But it was also a moment
that had a profound impact on the way I was determined to live the rest of my life.
Existing. I wonder how many people have ever really thought about that word in the
context of their daily lives, and then realized how empty the word truly is. In the
dictionary, several definitions are given including “occur, be found; live with no
pleasure.” The book of Genesis opens with an account of God’s wondrous creations,
including man.
So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created
him; male and female he created them. (Genesis 1:27)
The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden…
(Genesis 2:15)
We weren’t simply found in the garden by God; we were created by Him. Even more
astounding is that we were created in His image, and God doesn’t simply “exist.” He is
Page 73
not an “occurrence.” He takes great pleasure in His creation, and He is hopeful that
we will do the same. He created us to LIVE – not to exist! And there is a profound
difference. Accepting the role of constantly feeling unhappy, stressed, unfulfilled,
and longing for something to “fill me up” is choosing to “just exist.” True, we all
experience these feelings periodically, but it was accepting this as my continual way
of life that became my trap. When you exist, you “live with no pleasure.” When you
live, you live like Sarah: unafraid, unwavering in faith, uninhibited to let your colors
shine.
Watching Sarah enabled me to learn a great deal about myself. As God pieced my life
back together and brought me close to Him, He also provided me with the courage to
get to know me. Who would I be if I didn’t care so much about what someone else
thought? What would I look like – on the inside and outside? What kind of person would
I be? Would I have a hobby that I could openly share with others without fear of what
they might think, and could I be bold enough to continue pursuing my passion without
being crushed by every non-encouraging word? Would I have a favorite color or a
favorite food? I used to know these things. But I suppose that through the years of
accommodating everyone else’s needs, much of my own uniqueness had become
buried. It had now become my destiny to uncover it. I wanted my family to know me. I
wanted my friends to know me. And most of all, I wanted to know myself. But it was
not going to be easy. I had many bad habits to break along the way.
Page 74
Even the simple act of picking out clothing to wear was no longer done just for me.
For years, I have relied upon someone else’s eyes to pick out a new outfit, or a new
pair of glasses. Someone else with a keen eye had the ability to look at me and to
know immediately if the look was “right” whereas I couldn’t seem to tell. True, I am a
self-confessed fashion flunky. But I’ve realized that my own inability to “shine”
without the advice or approval of others isn’t really about the fashion thing at all.
Don’t get me wrong…on the rare occasion when I’m shopping for clothing, I still intend
to bring along someone who possesses more fashion savvy than I. But as fun as it is to
look good on the outside, it’s even more important to shine from the inside.
How could I not look at myself and see this? There were times I would put something
on, and my husband would ask “Are you going to wear that?” or my daughter would
say, “Ooh, I don’t like that shirt, Mom.” These words sent me marching right back into
my closet where I’d quickly change into something they would approve of.
Why
couldn’t I ever stand up and say, “YES! Yes I am going to wear this. And I love it!” And
walk out the door with my head held high – like Sarah would have done.
Because I wasn’t sure what I loved. I was more concerned about what other people
would love. Would they like the way I looked on the outside? What could I wear that
would fit into that mold?
But my discovery is this: When Jesus’ love is flowing through your soul; when he has
filled every single hole within you; and when His peace surrounds your entire being,
Page 75
you are transformed into a beacon of light for all to see - His light. There is something
different about you. And people notice. They are drawn to you. They want to know
what you have – and how they can get it. Of course, by then you know that it’s not
really you they’re after. That, my friend, is Jesus’ great discipleship plan at its best.
And it makes no difference what you’re wearing – or more importantly, it makes no
difference what anyone else thinks about it. That was Sarah’s secret. That’s what
made her so special. That’s what made her seem so “out there.”
I like pink. It’s not a color that my husband was ever
crazy about so I’ve never been bold enough to
proudly wear it…until recently. I purchased a new
pair of pajamas, and as you might have guessed,
they’re pink. The minute I saw them, I knew they
were perfect without even trying them on. And they
were. My husband made his little remarks about the
likelihood of our four-year-old daughter wanting a
matching pair. “She likes pink, you know,” he
added, as if to say a four-year-old has a right to like
pink - but not a grown woman. “Do you think they
come in her size?” he joked. No, honey, I don’t.
These pajamas are not a one-size-fits-all. A soul
must grow, mature and develop before it is ready to snuggle into of a pair of pajamas
such as these. It took me many years of growing to finally fit into these pajamas.
Page 76
When I wear them, and when I wear the other bright pink clothes that have been
hanging dormant in my closet for years, I am reminded of what it truly means to be
“out there.” Like Sarah, who boldly wore the colors in her heart…both on the inside
and on the outside. And as it turns out, it’s not about the color (or the article of
clothing) at all. It’s about being me – the unique person created by God - and not
being afraid to show that person to the world.
My children will tell you I have an annoying knack for taking anything and creating a
song out of it. They roll their eyes and give each other the, “Oh brother, here she goes
again” look. But we laugh about it and I keep right on singing. And I know one day they
will recall these times with a smile on their faces, because I have offered them a
window into my soul. They may not remember me for a particularly good voice, but
they will remember the joy and laughter we shared through the music, however quirky
it may have been, and I’m certain that memory will be worth all the eye-rolling they
give me now. They will remember how much Mom loved going out to her favorite
restaurants once in awhile, instead of being the disgruntled martyr in the kitchen
every night. They will remember rollerblading together, and they will remember
watching Mom try out their new scooter…a valiant attempt which ended with a very
ungraceful flip over the handlebars. They will remember waking up before dawn and
finding Mom writing at the kitchen table and they will recall how much Mom loved that
hobby of hers. They will remember the stories I shared with them about my youth.
They will remember the confetti, candles and flowers I placed on the dinner table
Page 77
occasionally – as they dined on macaroni and cheese. They will remember that I liked
pink…and blue. But most of all, they will remember their Mom as the person she really
was; not the mask she chose to wear.
And now you know…I like pink.
I no longer simply exist…I live.
I sing louder.
I laugh more often.
I even dance once in awhile.
And I’m not afraid to tell people why.
In my brokenness, I turned to the Lord Jesus Christ. He helped me to see myself for
the person I really was…the good, the bad and the ugly. He helped me to embrace the
good and gave me the grace to change the bad. I have repented and have sought His
forgiveness, for which He had been ready to grant – I only needed to ask. In my search
for lasting peace, and for freedom of guilt from my past thoughts or actions, I learned
that filling these voids can only come from letting Jesus Christ into your life. I have
been released from my burdens and have been filled with an unexplainable love for
Him, for myself, and for others. I don’t understand it. But I know it’s real.
The childhood falls from my bicycle never stopped me from climbing back up and
trying again. Would I get hurt again? Yes. No matter how confidently I sped around the
Page 78
block, or no matter how many races I’d won against the neighborhood children, I knew
the time would come when I’d fall again. But I also knew that I’d heal. Now I apply
that same philosophy to my life. Yes, I will get hurt again. Life – no matter how
perfect it may seem – is never without its bumps and bruises along the way. But even
with the most vulnerable part of my beating heart exposed to the world, I will heal. I
will learn. And I will continue to rely upon the grace of the Lord to carry on.
With this new understanding and acceptance, it was time to step back into a
relationship in need of additional healing.
Chapter 6 Marriages in Turmoil
Songs: Amazing Love, by Newsboys
My Faith Will Stay, by Cheri Keaggy
The thought of having a boyfriend never much
appealed to me. Dating was fine, but when it came
to a second date – who needed it! My heart
belonged to me. It was safe there within the realm
of my protection and there was no need to allow
myself to become bogged down with something as
useless as a relationship; something that would
inevitably stand in the way of my ambitions, would
require me to think of someone other than myself, and would ultimately bring
heartache. It would not come as a big surprise, then, if I told you I had been voted
“least likely to get married anytime soon” by my so-called friends in college. That
would all change, however, after I met the man who would later become my husband.
When we began dating nearly twenty years ago, I knew right away there was
something different about him. He was kind. He was handsome. He was honest and
caring. He was gentle and sensitive. And perhaps the most attractive feature of all was
the way he made me laugh, even during our long-distance courtship. As Dr. Gary
Chapman describes in his Toward a Growing Marriage seminar, I had the “tingles.”
Page 80
Chapter 6 – Marriages in Turmoil
Every card, every letter, every phone call, and every weekend visit all invoked the
same sense of excitement and anticipation.
But after sixteen years of marriage, the tingles were gone. When we saw each other
after a long days’ work, we no longer laughed. When we had free time, we no longer
sought ways to spend it together, enjoying one another’s company. I began reverting
back to my “Who needs it” attitude toward relationships. My attention focused on the
children, for which he would complain. I would reason that he was a grown man and
could take care of himself…my children, on the other hand, needed me. And
sometimes, the thought of lying next to my husband “till death do us part” felt more
like a lifetime sentence than a reason to celebrate. Ahhhh, marriage. It can be so
wonderful, so marvelous, so rewarding. And then it can be what might feel like a living
hell.
Why am I sharing this? Because during my own healing, God not only opened my heart,
He opened my eyes as well. And I am deeply troubled by what I see. I am living in the
midst of hurting people everywhere. Women suffering silent hurt and quiet anger. I
see the emotional pains behind the masks…the smiling faces as they hurry about their
lives, and the way those smiles disappear in the presence of their husband. The same
way mine disappeared.
Those burdens began spiraling out of control for me, as if I were caught in a forceful
whirlpool, spinning violently and purposefully straight down the drain. I knew it was
Page 81
happening but I no longer had the power, or the will, to stop it. My attitude toward
my husband completely changed, as the resentment continued to mount. I became a
real-life Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde: I could smile for the world and give the appearance of
being the ideal wife and mother, but when I found myself alone with my husband, the
monster in me surfaced. Bitter remarks spewed from my mouth before I could stop
them…remarks I would never say to a friend. Sometimes I treated him in ways I would
never even treat a stranger. When someone enters my home for a dinner gathering,
for example, I graciously greet them at the door and do my best to make them feel
welcome. On the other hand, when my husband walked through the door, I oftentimes
went out of my way to ignore him. I made little eye contact. And I did my best to help
him feel the way he had made me feel over the past year: lonely, unloved,
unappreciated.
It wasn’t always like this. But the anger and resentment that had accumulated over
the last year of our marriage took such a stronghold on my inner being that I just
reached the point where I couldn’t stop. I didn’t even know how to be kind to my
husband anymore. I could no longer see any redeeming qualities about him – only
qualities I wanted to run away from. I began feeling as though my life would be better
off without him and that life as a single mom wouldn’t be much different from the life
I was living. In fact, I sometimes fantasized about divorce – at least I’d have some free
weekends now and then, instead of living a life of slavery 24/7. Terrible thoughts, I
know. And it’s not easy to openly confess those thoughts. But this is real stuff. These
were real feelings. And we don’t help ourselves, or others, by not being real.
Page 82
My Great Aunt Martha lived a full and wonderful life. She passed away shortly before
turning 90, and until the end she lived and cared for herself in her own home, she took
herself on her weekly appointments to the beauty salon, and with her robust love of
life, she was always a pleasure to visit. Her garden, which she also cared for herself,
sprang forth every year from the snowy Indiana winters and it was one of the most
beautiful and peaceful sanctuaries I’d ever seen. When I traveled from our home in
Chicago to spend a day with her, that visit always included going out to lunch, where
I’d get such a kick out of being in the company of this spry, wonderful 80+-year-old
woman who still enjoyed ordering a cocktail with lunch. We talked and laughed, and I
counted myself fortunate to be in her presence, sharing in her wisdom.
I once asked her what her secret was. I wanted to know how I could continue living,
even when I’m approaching 90. “I’ve never been married,” she joked. Being a young
newlywed, I replied “You mean you’ve never been in a bad marriage.” The wisdom in
my response surprised even me.
Throughout my entire lifetime, I had seen what bad marriages did to people. I’d seen
the inner turmoil, I’d seen the physical effects, and I’d seen the far-reaching impact
to those around the discontented couple. And now all of that past knowledge
culminated into my life in the here and now. It was me suffering through the turmoil,
dreadfully unhappy and determined to blame someone else. There was no partnership.
There was no mutual respect, support and understanding. There was no love. Not real
Page 83
love anyway. And it was my troubled marriage that had begun impacting others around
us – whether we were aware of it or not.
Marriage is not supposed to be like that. Marriage, the way God intended it to be, is a
wonderful, beautiful, and holy bond. He created both man and woman because, in His
infinite wisdom, he acknowledged it was not good for the man to be alone (Genesis
2:18). Unfortunately it took sixteen years of marriage, followed by great heartache,
for my husband and I to fully understand this.
A New Set of Eyes
Through my healing, God has also blessed me with a new, unexpected gift. It is the
ability to see things differently – with greater clarity and increased depth. I see the
couple at church who has been too busy with their lives to regularly attend church, let
alone sustain a meaningful relationship with God. I greet them and tell them how nice
it is to see them again, and I ask how they’ve been. They smile and say “good.” But as
I look into their eyes, I can see that things aren’t so “good” after all. I see an
acceptance, as I once had, for living in a marriage full of discontentment, knowing the
tingles were long gone, and becoming overwhelmed with daily life. But hey, that’s
marriage for ya’, right?
I watch another couple as they sit down in their chosen pew. I see the wife excuse
herself to settle their children into the nursery. I see the husband sitting alone in
Page 84
silence. He is not looking at anyone, is not saying a word, and is not bowing his head in
silent prayer. He is just staring. There is an intense sadness burning deep inside his
soul. Secretly I want to join him and ask what he is thinking – what saddens him so –
because there I may discover what my own husband may have been feeling.
God knew what He was doing when He relocated our family to this beachside
community in South Florida. His wondrous creation became my refuge during my time
of healing, my own sanctuary where I could always find His peaceful presence waiting
for me. That place of sanctuary – whether it is at a beach or in a backyard garden - is
a critical part of our life, and it can be found anywhere…anywhere you allow yourself
to be alone with God, even if it means escaping for a nightly soak in the bathtub!
Spectacular surroundings are not a requirement. The only requirements are the right
frame of mind and the right guest list.
I have spent many times on those glorious
beaches feeling absolutely nothing. I have
watched the waves roll in and out, wishing I
could send those who have hurt me out to sea
with them. I have sat on the sand and
realized how captive I had become to my own
anger and resentment, but remained content
to stay that way. Yet I have sat in those same spots and felt the Lord’s unmistakable
presence, listened to His words, and basked in His incredible peace. So what made the
Page 85
difference? The difference was captured in my journal, during one of those moments
on the beach:
I’ve returned to my sanctuary again, and have invited Him to return
with me. Sitting here alone, I’m filled with despair and hopelessness.
But when I finally extend that invitation and allow Him back into my
life, the sanctuary returns. I have oftentimes sat on this same sand,
admiring the same enormous waters before me, but it is not the same
when you’re here alone. The company I now enjoy, even though
invisible, makes me feel safe. It fills me with hope. It comforts me and
makes me want to smile rather than cry. It floods my mind with
possibilities instead of hopelessness. It fills my heart with love instead
of hatred. And when I’m finished savoring the company, it sends me into
the world in peace. Imagine…all that resulting from a simple invitation.
Or rather, choosing to accept an invitation that had been extended long
ago. How many times will I attempt to do it myself? How long will I
believe I know what’s best? These feelings of despair; hopelessness –
they resurface when I decide it’s time for me to take charge. The peace
and joyfulness only come when I choose to surrender. When I
acknowledge He is right and when I finally get what they’ve been trying
to tell me: It’s not about me.
Page 86
I spent a great deal of time praying and communicating with God on the beach – I still
do. Those quiet times have brought about many life lessons, not only from our great
heavenly counselor, but also from the life going on around me. Sitting silently with
my journal in hand, I watched people walk by, feeling like an invisible observer of life.
At times, it was almost like stepping into the shoes of Scrooge and catching a glimpse
of the ghosts of marital past, present and future. The lessons I learned from the
passersby were astounding, and unbeknownst to them, they helped to shape this
chapter. Was it you I encountered along the way?
Sitting on the beach, I see another couple walking along the shoreline. They look to be
in their 50’s, and have probably been married nearly thirty years. The wife walks
along the shoreline, but her face doesn’t portray the sense of peace mine does right
now. She seems not to notice the magnificence of the water splashing on her feet. In
fact, she seems more concerned that the waves might get her white capri pants wet.
They are probably brand new – purchased specifically for this vacation, along with the
hope that this vacation would renew her marriage. But it doesn’t look as though she
got what she paid for. She’s angry. Not at the moment, but at the life. Joyfulness left
this woman long ago – if ever it was present to begin with. Her sunglasses hide her
eyes, but I imagine the bright sun isn’t the only reason for that.
She angrily looks up at her husband, “Why do you have to walk so fast?”
The
bitterness pours out upon her husband, who has been working to maintain his twostride lead, apparently working hard to forget – at least for a moment. Yes, there was
Page 87
indeed more than “walking fast” in that tone. And I imagine what she really wanted to
say was more like “Fine. If you don’t want to be with me, just leave! You can’t even
walk with me, let alone live with me!”
He knows it too. He stops. His erect yet carefree posture immediately gives way to
passive slumping. He has left tracks in the sand where he reluctantly dug his feet into
the sand while the rest of his body turned to face her. He didn’t want to turn around.
In fact, he wanted to run away as fast as he could. But duty called. Just as she is,
although perhaps for different reasons, he is miserable. There is no joy left in his life.
At least not with her.
I see things so differently now. I see dynamics I never noticed before. I see
relationships I never want to have, like the one above. But I also see relationships I
have had, like the one below.
On one of my regular bicycle rides, I encountered a young family walking to the beach.
They were probably here for a fun family vacation – to find a relaxing place to get
away from it all and to renew the family bonds that were beginning to break. But I can
see they haven’t found it here. The wife is in her 30’s, young and pretty, but the look
on her face is hiding that. She walks with her arms folded across her body, sullenly
looking at the ground beneath her. One little boy, about five years old, walks
alongside her but she doesn’t seem to notice. She looks like she’s hurting inside, and
Page 88
the walls she surrounds herself with are dragging her down, expending all her energy
so that it’s impossible for her to notice anything other than her heavy burdens.
A second little boy, about three, follows close behind. His hands are held by his daddy,
and as the young child expresses his glee with constant chatter, the man is distant. He
has a smile on his face while he’s holding his son’s hands, and although he is replying
to the chatter with meaningless nods, he is a million miles away. While he responds to
his son, his eyes are on me – watching me pedal past. He is looking for something she
can no longer give him. She is desperately seeking the hurt to stop. And they are both
clinging to the hope that somehow…some way…they will feel good again. At this point,
though, they both realize it may not be with each other. It’s a painful realization, but
one way or another, the pain and the emptiness have got to end.
I see God missing from so many lives. I see couples searching fruitlessly for answers
between one another. Answers that will never come. I see anguish and hopelessness in
a union that was intended to be holy, loving and joyous. I want to grab them all and
tell them what I have learned. I want to hold up a mirror and let them see. I want to
videotape that leisurely walk on the beach and show them what they’ve really
become. I want to tell them that yes, it is awful but there is a way out. Yet despite
my lofty aspirations, I know there is truly only one who can show them; tell them; lead
them. And He’s the one calling them back to Him now.
Is He calling you?
Page 89
Perhaps at this point you are wondering if I ever found it…found the relationship I
hoped to have one day. Keep reading. I have decided to save the best for last.
Families in Turmoil
Like it or not, the turmoil in our marriage has a direct impact on our entire family.
Our society is filled with children who are not being taught how to love or how to
forgive. And it’s not difficult to see why. Life is tough. The world is an overwhelming,
frightening place when you’re standing alone. Time and time again, I have listened as
Fr. William O’Connell warned his parish, “You cannot get through this world alone.
The ways of the world are too strong; too powerful.” But, as he also reminds us,
nothing is too powerful for God.
Succumbing to sin and deceit can indeed happen to anyone – and it takes a constant
effort to keep God in the front and center of your life. But our marriages are worth
the fight. Humanity is worth the struggle. And when you believe Jesus is at your side,
the struggles become rewarding. Each passed test is an honor, a privilege, and an
opportunity.
I am keenly aware that I could not have survived this tumultuous time in my life if I
had attempted to do it alone. My husband and I would’ve been among the
overwhelming divorce statistics, and our children would have been among the growing
Page 90
number of children growing up in one parent households – or being shuffled back and
forth between “his” and “hers” homes. Realize that I am not passing judgment. I
know firsthand that sometimes this situation is a necessity and can be the best
alternative for the children. But those situations account for a small statistic - which is
certainly not represented by the astounding 40-50% divorce rate in this country. While
it may not be easy to walk down every rocky road that comes our way, the short cut is
certainly not always the best answer either. Divorce is heavy stuff, and sometimes –
though not always – it results from choosing pride over faith. Subjecting children to a
lifetime of heartache is a heavy price to pay for an unwillingness to turn our lives over
to the Lord who can help us to heal broken hearts and broken relationships…those
which He wishes us to remain committed to.
Our children need to be taught how to love. They need to be taught how to forgive.
They need role models, and as parents, it is our responsibility to provide that for
them. We have been blessed with the children in our care, and that blessing comes
with great responsibility. Imagine what an incredible world this would be if every
parent agreed to teach their children God’s word; teach them to love; teach them
respect and tolerance for one another and for themselves. And when we fall into sin,
as we all do, teach them the power of forgiveness. This is not to say we should raise
our children to be doormats, or become one ourselves. But when we allow God to lead
our lives, we follow His direction. Either He will call us to reconcile relationships, or
He will gently guide us out of situations that cannot be remedied. But it’s His call we
should be following, not our own prideful desires.
Dr. Gary Chapman reminds us,
Page 91
“When we are led by the Holy Spirit, we do things we would not normally do,” which
can mean facing the anger instead of running away from it.
Life is not easy for us, nor will it be easy for our children. Like us, they will be forced
to learn lessons we once hoped they would never need to learn. Sometimes those
lessons will impact the way they lead their lives – now and in the future. Like the
lessons my children learned from our marriage.
My children adore their daddy. They did not deserve to know the absolute truth about
what had happened, yet they did deserve a child-sized explanation as to why their
daddy was living in a motel. I gathered my children in my arms, trying to slow the
tears that fell from my eyes, and I proceeded to give them a speech I could never have
rehearsed. “Mommy and Daddy teach you not to lie, right? God tells us not to lie. But
Daddy lied to Mommy in a way that hurt me very badly. And you know what it’s like
when someone hurts your feelings, and you just need to get away from them for
awhile? That’s how I feel right now. I need to be away from Daddy because I am angry
and I’m hurt.”
They understood. They were devastated, but they understood. When another child’s
behavior made them so angry they couldn’t control themselves, they needed a timeout. Now Mom was there, too. And they understood. But they also understood that a
time-out didn’t mean forever. There was still hope.
Page 92
Going to church became more meaningful to them. When they complained, “Ah, Mom,
do we have to go to church? We don’t want to go.” I would tell them, “Yes, we’re
going. God is the only thing that’s going to get me through this. I need His help to get
over my anger and to learn how to forgive.” Suddenly, church was a good thing for
them and they practically ran to the car. During the next service, my eight-year-old
nudged my arm and handed me an offering envelope as she whispered, “This is for
you. You’re going to need this.” Scattered
around the envelope were her hand-written
words: trust, love, peace, faith, patience,
kind and prayer.
Her wisdom went way
beyond her young age, and her empathy and
understanding touched my heart deeply. I still
carry that envelope in my purse today.
Children understand way more than we give them credit for. It’s a delicate balancing
act, although it’s not so difficult when you allow the Holy Spirit to help you guide
them through turbulent times. Children don’t need to hear all the sordid details that
will cause greater hurt in their little lives. They don’t deserve to be manipulated by a
parent’s anger or desire for revenge. But they do deserve the opportunity to learn that
we are all imperfect people. We all make mistakes. And although it’s a difficult life
lesson, they will benefit greatly by learning that love and forgiveness can happen only
when we keep our lives focused on God.
Page 93
My children are all the better for the experiences and words we shared during this
time. On the surface, I hate the fact that my children ever had to live through a
troubled marriage and a separation. But God allowed this experience to happen for a
reason, and we are all the better because of it. Even at this young age, my children
understand that a marriage takes work. It doesn’t just happen. They’ve seen firsthand
how difficult it can be to forgive someone, yet they’ve been witness to God’s
miraculous love. They’ve seen lives around them transformed because of His amazing
grace. And they know firsthand that “troubled times” isn’t synonymous with “hopeless
times.” These are amazing gifts my children will carry with them throughout their
lives. What good would it have done for me to lie to them, or to pretend that nothing
was wrong?
After having lived through the entirety of our situation, my treasured friend Jody
assured me, “Because of this, you’ll be a better wife. You’ll be a better mother. And
one day, you’ll be a better mother-in-law.” Whoa…the sound of those words terrified
me initially. But she’s right. For now I know that falling into sin doesn’t just happen to
the weak, or to the incompetent. It can happen to anyone. Likewise, healing and
forgiveness can happen to anyone. We just have to know where to look.
So, did I ever find a role model for the type of relationship I hoped to have one day? I
previously mentioned the “ghost of marital future” but I have to tell you that this one
was difficult to find. Countless faces passed me by during my search. Does it really
exist, I wondered. And just as doubt was beginning to set in, there it was.
Page 94
Like every couple I have watched, this couple was out for a leisurely stroll along the
beach. Probably in their 50’s, searching for a little rest and relaxation (“R & R”) as the
calm waves gently washed upon their feet. But this couple was very different from
those I had witnessed in the past. I could see them coming from afar, and once I
spotted them, I couldn’t take my eyes off them. I knew I had found what I was looking
for.
There was a certain glow about them. They looked
down at the sand as they walked, yet their bodies
seemed to be in perfect unison, connected in some
indescribable way. There was a true joy about them.
They enjoyed each other’s company. The look on each
of their faces left no doubt they were each filled with a
sense of peace. They walked effortlessly – neither
struggling to keep up with the other; neither frustrated
with the others’ slower pace. Every step taken together
was an enjoyment. Their “R & R” was much different
from the others I had witnessed. This “R & R” was
within each other; not away from one another. And I
had the feeling that, while they happened to be
enjoying the beautiful surroundings, this beautiful
moment could’ve been found anywhere.
Page 95
They approached my V.I.P. seat there on the sand and both looked up at me with
smiles. He reminded me of a motivational speaker as he waved enthusiastically, while
she joined him in a warm “hello.” I must have looked like a giddy school girl – I
couldn’t stop smiling. I wanted to jump up and down and tell them how happy I was to
see them. To thank them for proving to me – and to the rest of the world – that it
really does exist. To thank them for the hope that has kept me going. To tell them
how special they were. But I was sure they already knew that.
That kind of relationship does not come easily. And it does not exist without God. The
relationships we find ourselves in – the ones we desperately long to leave or to change
– are the ones we try to do without God. The ones where we begin to say “I can do this
my way.”
When we begin to experience the feelings of emptiness, longings and unmet desires,
instead of turning to our Heavenly counselor to decipher those feelings, we oftentimes
look to our spouse to fill up those holes. We turn to him because after all, “If he truly
loved me, I wouldn’t be feeling this emptiness.” And when they don’t - or won’t - fill
us up, we become angry. We become hurt. And we become bitter.
Why did it take great pain for me to realize that my husband could never do the things
I wanted him to do? He could never fill me up – even if he had wanted to. I never
realized it because I was searching for “the moment.” And I was certain that the
Page 96
magic of that moment rested within my husband…he just needed to care enough to
use his magic wand.
Chapter 7 The Moment
Songs: Spoken For, by MercyMe
The Moment. It’s everywhere…movies, television, really
great novels. Surely the real thing was out there
somewhere, I continued to reassure myself. If I
continued searching, I was bound to find it. Maybe I’d
have to wait a few years until the kids were in school,
but I’d wait. It would be worth the wait. I knew it was
out there somewhere, and I knew that when I finally
discovered it, it was going to be really great. One of
these days, my moment was going to arrive…
Oh, how I longed for the moment. There just had to be something better – something
more. Looking at that same face day after day – the face that had become less
cheerful with every passing year. Tolerating those annoying habits over and over –
those annoyances that just couldn’t be overlooked anymore. Like the way my husband
scratches his back against a wall, or the way he blows his nose, or cracks his neck, or
spits out the window, … Eeey gaads! Is it any wonder we long for the moment…the
opportunity to escape all of that?
Page 98
Chapter 7 – The Moment
Recall the movie, Jerry Maguire. Ever since I saw that movie, the “Tom Cruise
moment” has remained in my head. You know the moment…the moment when a
weepy Tom Cruise, overcome with emotion, bursts into a party to sweep his true love
off her feet. After an emotionally-clad speech, he tells her how much he loves her and
how much he realizes that she fulfills his every need. Now get out the tissue…here
comes the big finale: “You complete me,” he declares.
Ahhhhhh…my heart melts. That’s the moment I’d been longing for. Some day my
husband was going to realize this too, I reasoned. And then we could rebuild our
marriage. If I only really knew how much and how deeply he loved me, everything
would be okay. He just needed to figure out a way to show me.
I have since come to understand that the moment is perhaps the ultimate tease in a
long-term relationship – the ultimate temptation. You’ve settled into a relationship,
and after the exciting newness wears off, you slip into the comfort zone. But as the
comfort zone begins feeling less and less comfortable, you become eager to slip into
the next stage…the stage that suddenly becomes new and exciting again. But this
stage isn’t a natural occurrence – it doesn’t just happen. Failing to recognize this, we
begin seeking desperately for something that does not exist – at least not where most
of us expect to find it. And sooner or later, great pain will come from those desires.
Page 99
My friend, Kim, has an incredibly thoughtful and romantic husband. A few years ago, a
group of us gals went away for a Mom’s weekend getaway. After checking into our
hotel rooms, Kim returned to the lobby with a school-girl giddiness about her. She told
us there were roses and a basket of champagne and chocolate covered strawberries
waiting for her in her room, along with a note from her husband that read: “Dear Kim:
Have a great weekend. We love you.” Now that is a moment. How could you not wait
to get home after receiving that love basket?! My romantic husband, on the other
hand, sent me off with these final words: “What time are you going to be home on
Sunday?”
How do I get a husband like Kim’s, I wondered. I talked myself into believing that
some day my husband would come to his senses. Some day we would live out that
incredible role in Jerry Maguire. Some day he would ride in on his big white horse and
sweep me off my feet. And when that day arrived, we would both be completely
fulfilled; finally declaring to one another that “You complete me.”
But as our sixteen-year wedding anniversary arrived, so did my realization that the
moment would never unfold. The disappointment and hopelessness were unbearable.
There would never be a white knight to sweep me away from all this. There would
never again be true love in my life – at least in my marriage. With this realization, I
wondered how on earth I could live the rest of my life like this. This wasn’t happiness.
This was misery.
Page 100
As I look back, I realize that long before my husband began searching for a better life
outside of our marriage, I had begun formulating my own escape plan. The seeds of
bitterness had been planted and I can see how my own fertile soil allowed them to
rapidly grow into thoughts such as these: I was sure I would never again be happy with
this man, and in many ways I thought I would be better off without him. This
relationship was never going to work. He didn’t care enough to listen, and certainly
didn’t care enough to change. I was destined to grow old, bitter and unloved. It was
time to get out while I was able to make a new life for myself and for my children.
But as I would later learn, God had other plans for me. Other plans for us. And he put
those plans into motion before we reached the point where bonds might never have
been repaired, and I can now clearly see why – and why His timing was
perfect. My husband and I had grown increasingly distant over those last
couple of years, but we did have one thing in common: an overwhelming
feeling of discontentment - much of which I now believe was based on
the fallacy of the moment. Had we not fallen to the depths we did, we
may not have ever learned that the moment does indeed exist…just not
where we had expected.
Rewind to your childhood. Do you remember the story about the knight
in shining armor – the one with impeccable timing who always seemed to
know when the fair maiden was in distress? The one you imagined would
ride in on his big white horse and rescue you from danger, riding off into
Page 101
the sunset with you holding on to his big strong waist? Or perhaps you remember the
old Underdog cartoon, where Sweet Polly Purebred could always be assured that the
great Underdog would hear her cries for help, and he would miraculously appear out
of nowhere to sweep her away from impending danger.
Of course, I knew these stories were not real. Still, I somehow managed to expect
that, in times of my greatest needs, a strong, loving man would come to my rescue.
And as I fast forward to current times, I realized that this man, of course, was my
husband. But he’d lost his Underdog cape and he doesn’t even hear me when I’m
talking to him, let alone hear my cries for help! And he certainly doesn’t have a big
white horse.
These stories are great fun, and even now I have to admit the pleasure in reverting
back to these fantasies instead of facing reality, but at this point in my life, I cannot
help but wonder why we fill our children’s heads with such myths.
Not long ago, I was reading a marvelous adventure to my four-year-old daughter – an
adventure that happened to include a knight in shining armor who swooped down and
rescued a little girl from sure danger. I wanted to warn her,
“Don’t believe it! It will never happen! He will never come!”
But I didn’t want to spoil the fun, or give her yet another reason to think I’d gone
Page 102
stark raving mad. Instead, I marveled in the fantasy with her – and then explained that
there are real stories full of adventure which really happened, and those stories can
be found in the Bible. She listened with wide eyes as I read to her from the book of
Daniel, and she listened intently about how the angel of the Lord appeared and
rescued His three faithful followers from the flames of an oven. Reading from her
bible has since become our daily ritual. We read a marvelous fantasy adventure, and
then when we’re done, she hands me her bible and asks me to read a story from
there.
Spectacular stories and works of literature are a cherished part of our culture, and
marvelous adventures can help our children to thrive, learn and grow. However, we
sometimes take for granted that everyone, including our children, knows the
difference between fiction and nonfiction. But in our society, these lines are becoming
increasingly blurred. While the fictional hero may not be real, there is a man in real
life who will always come to our rescue. And that man is God. I want my children to
grow up imagining the body of Christ behind that suit of armor, and like that mythical
knight, He can defeat all odds to protect them. And I want them to understand the
power of the Holy Spirit that, like Underdog, enables Him to hear every cry for help.
But unlike these characters, He is real.
If we ourselves didn’t grow up believing in that important concept, then we - as
women and wives – can become so consumed with the things of the world that we
begin expecting our husbands to save the day and make everything better. We begin
Page 103
running on empty and then look to our husbands to fill us up. That’s his job, right?
Have you ever thought, ‘If he loved me – if he truly loved me – he would see how
empty I am.’ Oh, I played that one over and over in my mind until it then developed
into this one: ‘And if he cared, he would do something about it.’ But he didn’t. And
when he didn’t see what I wanted him to see, and when he didn’t do what I expected
a caring person to do, I became angry. The seeds of bitterness were planted and
discontentment soon followed.
While we impatiently wait for the moment to arrive – the one that will make
everything okay again – our relationship suffers. Our marriage suffers. We’re longing
for someone to fill up our tank, and while the simple answer may be staring us in the
face, we don’t see it. While we hear the Word, we don’t really believe it’s applicable
to us. Instead, we desperately cling to the hope that we can complete our journey by
running on the vapors remaining in our tank. But inside, our tanks are screaming, “FILL
ME UP!”
God is the only one who can truly fill us up. He created us, and while I may not be
certain about many things in this life, I am certain that He didn’t create us to NOT
need Him. Those empty holes are the special places reserved just for Him – and only
He can touch them. He is the only one who can give us what we are longing for. When
we expect another earthly being to do His job, we are setting ourselves up for great
disappointment.
Page 104
The moment does exist. And it’s every bit as spectacular as I had ever imagined. I just
never truly believed that it could happen…until I experienced it myself. I have
included an excerpt from my journal below which captures what the moment was like
for me. The moment when my deepest longings were finally met. The love affair I
have discovered. The passion for loving God that I never understood before.
Rendezvous on the Beach
Whew. Barely made it. Didn’t want to be late for my rendezvous on the
beach. This passionate love affair is so wonderful, yet our precious
time together is so limited. I couldn’t wait to get here. I’ve been
longing to be in the arms of the one who loves me. The one waiting for
me as anxiously as I await he. I see the magnificent surroundings he has
prepared just for me. And I know he truly loves me.
Everything is perfect. Even the minutest of detail has not been
overlooked. The sun is positioned just right - enough for me to breathe
in the beautiful, magnificent colors that light up the sky. The waves
peacefully roll in - enough to feel the serenity of the calming sea. The
sand has formed a perfect seat for me to enjoy the marvelous
theatrical production that was created just for my enjoyment.
Page 105
And he’s waiting for me with a surprise gift that he knows will satisfy
my every need. One he has picked out just for me, and he has been so
eager for me to arrive so he can see the look on my face when I open
it. I close my eyes. Focus on him. He wraps his loving arms around me,
and I surrender everything I have – everything I am – to him and him
alone. That’s the moment he’s been waiting for. His present is then
laid upon me. His great gift of peace.
I treasure the moment. Cherish it. Praise it. Remember it. I thank Him
profusely for His gift, a gift like no other. And I tell Him I’ll be back
tomorrow.
I open my eyes to witness the most amazing of sunsets before me. A
magnificent glowing orange sun falling beneath the horizon of a neverending sea, promising the hope of a glorious tomorrow.
Page 106
Once I discovered where the magic of the moment could be found, I was able to let my
husband off the hook. He was no longer responsible for my emptiness – I was no longer
empty. He was no longer responsible for my unhappiness – I was full of joy. And he was
no longer going to be wrongly accused of creating the miserable person I was destined
to become. I was finally awakened to the fact that my destiny was between me and
the Lord. I had placed all of these unrealistic expectations on my husband…of course,
then, he became a huge disappointment to me. He’s not God! And nobody here on
earth can fill those shoes. Having been set free of those expectations, I was then free
to begin seeing qualities in my husband that I had become blinded to - the good
qualities that had become masked by an abundance of disappointment. Suddenly he
was a man standing before me, and I sadly realized how long it had been since I
Page 107
actually saw him as a separate entity…a man not cloaked with my unhappiness. A
separate being created by God.
As much as I would have liked to have believed that my husband’s purpose on earth
was to serve me by making my life better, it is not. His purpose – like the purpose we
all hold – is to serve God. It was one of those slap-in-the-face moments for me, but it
was effective. As Regina led me through prayer ministry during this time, she asked
the Lord to allow me to see my husband the way He saw him. I’m certain that my
perspective had been quite different from God’s. He saw His wondrous creation; I saw
failures. He saw my husband’s unique purpose growing to fruition; I saw
disappointment. In this light, the differences were amazing. Once again I realized
that when we strive to become more Christ-like, we see things in an entirely new
light. As disappointing as our spouse may become to us, we must remember this:
Jesus Christ thought your spouse was worth dying for.
He laid down His life upon the cross for all His children – yourself included. With these
revelations, the warmth of His presence filled me and I knew He was listening. I knew
He was there. I knew He was teaching me His truth. And I knew that restoring our
relationship was possible with His help.
Chapter 8 The Road to Restoration
Song: Ocean Floor, by Audio Adrenaline
After years of pent-up bitterness
and painful memories, the road to
a reconciled relationship was not
an easy journey to begin. Up to
this point, I had learned a lot
about myself. But as a couple, we
hadn’t
even
neglected
several
our
years,
begun.
We
relationship
and
it
had
for
quickly
became evident that the repair work might take just as long. Quite honestly,
sometimes the sight of my husband nauseated me. The hurt, the betrayal and the
anger were like a whirlwind of destruction in the pit of my stomach that I couldn’t
seem to shake.
During my lifetime, I had accumulated a host of preconceived notions and one of those
notions pertained to counseling. To me, counseling was for those who were weak or
those who couldn’t solve their own problems. So when I found myself sitting in my
closet searching through our health insurance benefits for “mental health coverage,” I
Page 109
Chapter 8 – The Road to Restoration
was mortified. “Whoever thought I’d be looking into mental health coverage,” I
grumbled to myself as I flipped through the pages. “…if it weren’t for that lousy
husband of mine…” Of course, I came to realize that the counseling we needed wasn’t
really because of my husband. It was because of the mess we’d both made of our
marriage during the years leading up to this moment.
I cannot speak for my husband, but I know I could never admit we needed help.
Marriage counseling? Who….me? Us? No, that would imply we had problems we could
not overcome. And, in my mind, that certainly was not the case. Perhaps
it was pride, or perhaps it was that façade I had become accustomed to
carrying around – trying to fool the world into believing “everything’s
fine.” Whatever it was, I know the same feeling is shared by many – yet
it is a tremendous obstacle to our relationships. I would have been
mortified if someone had seen me going into a counselor’s office. I
would have been embarrassed to be seen at a marriage seminar. In the
aftermath, I can see the tremendous value in such opportunities but prior to our own
breakdown, I could not overcome the negative stigma I had associated with seeking
help. I suppose that stigma was symptomatic of a lack of wisdom – wisdom to know I
wasn’t strong enough to do it alone.
I’ve come full circle on this front. My husband and I have both become advocates of
marriage counseling, and believe every married couple should routinely undergo a
“check-up” from a qualified therapist. Not only can a good therapist help to repair a
Page 110
broken marriage, but also he/she can help to make a good marriage even better. Our
counselor helped us uncover revelations about ourselves that explained our behavior
and actions over the years; she helped us with conflict resolution (which is something
we’d never managed to figure out on our own); and she helped us to see where we’d
gone wrong. Most importantly, though, she provided us with tools to help ensure we
never got back to this ugly place again.
Yes, I am tremendously blessed to be married to a man who was willing to seek the
help we so desperately needed, and who allows God to rule his heart. My husband is a
good man, and I am honored to be his wife (most of the time). But I do realize that not
everybody has this, which brings me to a very important side note: If you’re reading
these words and thinking your relationship can never be restored because only one of
you expresses a similar willingness, there is hope.
There are many wonderful publications that address this issue, including The Power of
a Praying Wife, by Stormie Omartian or Hope for the Separated, by Dr. Gary Chapman.
Most importantly, however, is the message continually reinforced by Jim, which is the
knowledge that as a Christian, life – with all its uncertainty – is never without hope.
The starting point for any future is a root in God. When you are actively pursuing the
purpose He created for you, and are continually seeking His will, your roots are in Him
and nothing is hopeless. Even if you’re in a bad place right this very moment, know
that the best place you can ever be is in a complete partnership with God. In that
Page 111
partnership, you are perfectly placed to make decisions that can only make your life
better.
My husband and I have worked hard over the past year to rebuild our relationship:
rebuild the trust, repair the damage, and restore a marriage we thought was dead.
Our counselors helped us to achieve this – both our earthly counselor and the great
Heavenly counselor – but the lessons would have been meaningless had we not taken
the action. Relationships do not get better on their own. Wise is the one who
understands that.
But let’s face it: counseling usually costs money. While a portion of the expense
associated with counseling may be covered by many health insurance plans (look under
“mental health benefits”), it still involves some out-of-pocket expense. And this can
be a great barrier, especially when it’s not deemed to be of dire need. But even this
obstacle should not serve as an excuse to do nothing, believing that a less-thansatisfying relationship will magically get better on its own. Qualified counselors within
a church oftentimes offer their counseling services at little or no cost, such as a
pastor, a member of the Stephen ministry, or even a specially trained lay person.
Short of seeking help from a qualified counselor, there are a number of enrichment
opportunities that can be done on your own – if only you make the time for them.
Marriage enrichment seminars are often offered through churches for a nominal fee.
Recently, my husband and I had the opportunity to attend Dr. Gary Chapman’s
Page 112
seminar, Toward A Growing Marriage. We were both grateful to be in his midst, and
both left committed to regularly attending such workshops. Also, however, we both
left wondering why we’d never attended marriage enrichment seminars before. If you
have the opportunity to attend a marriage seminar led by Dr. Chapman, leave the
embarrassment at home and go with the knowledge that being seen at the event
shows your wisdom!
Additionally, weekend-long Marriage Encounter seminars, sponsored by the Catholic
church (open to all couples and denominations), are offered all across the country.
These seminars are intended to put romance back into a marriage, and to make a good
marriage even better.
For couples finding themselves in a troubled marriage, the Catholic church offers a
different weekend retreat entitled Retrouvaille. If you are contemplating divorce,
feel alone in your marriage, feel hurt or angry with each other, then Retrouvaille may
be just what you need to begin the road to restoration. Information on both
encounters, including finding a location near you, can be found online at
www.wwme.org and http://www.retrouvaille.org, respectively.
The best-selling book, The Five Love Languages, authored by Dr. Gary Chapman, is
also available in CD format. This format provides a great opportunity for couples to
explore new, more effective ways of communicating and connecting as they listen to
the CD together in the comfort of their home, one chapter at a time. My husband and I
Page 113
also discovered that Rick Warren’s Purpose Driven Life was instrumental in the healing
of our marriage. This book in itself is great, but when you read the book together as a
couple, the power within the cover can be unleashed tenfold. Despite our hectic
schedules, my husband and I sat aside time each night to lay together and read just
one chapter – then talked about what the chapter meant to us as individuals and as a
couple. We were astounded by the way our communication opened up, and we
discovered an intimacy within each other that we had never experienced before.
There are numerous other options out there – many of which my husband and I haven’t
even discovered yet. Some couples say regular dates help to keep communication and
romance alive in their marriage. Some say annual weekend getaways are crucial.
Whatever the option, the common denominator is the same: work! We oftentimes
ignore this blessed relationship, then wonder what went wrong. We ask ourselves, why
is my marriage in such disarray all of the sudden? But the truth is, it usually doesn’t
happen “all of the sudden.” Usually, it is years in the making. Marriage requires effort
to continually strengthen and enrich the relationship. You can “do nothing” and
continue to wallow in misery, or you can commit to the necessary building blocks and
reap the rewards of a blessed, peaceful marriage that you can be happy with. I have
chosen the latter, but admittedly the choice is one I am faced with again and again.
On numerous occasions, I have become overwhelmed by the amount of work ahead of
us, and have been tempted to stop trying...to give up and to return to my old way of
life. But then I am reminded that Noah’s Ark would never have sustained the floods
had he opted to give up because he was just too overwhelmed with the work required
Page 114
to build that ark. God is not calling us to build an unsinkable ark. He simply wants us
to build an unsinkable marriage. But this, too, requires work.
Building Blocks
My marriage failed. I use the term “failed marriage” in its most literal state. Our
marriage, or rather what eventually became of our marriage, did fail. But by the grace
of God, we were able to piece it back together and bask in the glory of a Godly
reconciliation. Our new marriage is more complete, more fulfilling and more enjoyable
than our sixteen year marriage ever was. Yet it is a constant struggle to maintain that
bond. Our therapist reminds us that it is hard work and it does take effort, sometimes
more effort than we have the will to sustain.
But that’s the way it can be with
anything worthwhile in life, and relationships are no exception.
As I was visiting my daughter’s preschool class one day, I
watched as the children busily moved from one center to
the next: some were participating in dress-up fun, some
were playing with cars and dinosaurs, while others were
coloring and crafting. There was one little boy, however,
standing alone under the “building blocks” sign. I was
awestruck by the concentration beaming from the boy’s
face as he created what he surely considered to be the
tallest tower on earth. He was surrounded by the clamor
Page 115
of other children playing around him, but he was concentrating much too hard to
notice – much less to be affected by the chaos. His own little world was safe and
secure…and there was so much work to be done! Painstakingly he added one block at a
time, taking great care not to knock over what he’d already put into place, until
alas…he reached up as high as he could and crowned his creation with the final block.
He stood back admiring the fruits of his labor, proudly looking around for approval. But
he hadn’t noticed the two children behind him, fast approaching with dinosaurs in
their little hands. As T-Rex began to devour Stegosaurus…BAAM! The entire tower
came tumbling down. Although it may have taken a period of long, intense, hard work
to build that tower, it collapsed in one flail swoop. Everything he’d worked so hard to
build was now lying in pieces on the floor.
It was just another day in the life of that preschooler. To me, however, the
experience offered an incredible life lesson. As I looked at the pieces strewn about the
floor, I realized that that particular moment was quite picturesque of what eventually
became of our marriage. There was a point when we worked hard to build it up. But
we became complacent, and no longer felt as though our relationship needed diligence
or protection.
We had built our tower, and like that little boy, we stood back
admiring its beauty. We became consumed with the world around us, looking to others
for approval rather than turning to the Lord above. And as we were doing so, the ways
of this world snuck up behind us and…BAAM!
Page 116
As a couple, we were weak and unable to withstand even the little swoops that came
our way, let alone the mighty blow that would preface the end. Instead of building
each other up, we had begun tearing each other apart. And after a while, it became
easier that way. It wasn’t nearly as rewarding as stepping back together and admiring
that strong tower we had worked hard to create. But it was sure a lot easier than the
effort it took to build it.
My husband and I still struggle with this realization. After working so hard to rebuild
our relationship, we both expected it to be “easy street” from thereon. But as we
continually realize, coasting and doing nothing may be easy and effortless - but doing
so will destroy everything we have worked so hard to build. It’s kind of an oxymoron,
don’t you think? When we find the person we know we’re going to spend the rest of
our lives with, we just expect everything to be easy and to come naturally. We were
made for each other, after all. We belong together. Simple as that. But it’s not that
simple…not at all. Who knew relationships would require so much work! Since we go
into relationships with such unrealistic expectations, the constant work entailed can
be discouraging, and even depressing at times. But if we are to build that strong
tower, it is time and effort we must accept as part of our daily lives.
My husband and I are not real quick studies in this arena. We do get bogged down with
our many other responsibilities, and we neglect our relationship as part of our daily
lives. However, when the neglect occurs, it doesn’t take long to notice the hostility
creeping in; the short tempers; the lack of loving kindness. We can feel ourselves
Page 117
slipping back into our old ways of life as those old habits are extremely difficult to
break. The difference now, though, is the ability to recognize what is happening and
to get ourselves back on track rather than burying the discontentment and allowing it
to fester and grow for another sixteen years.
What I Learned About Marriage From An Eight-Year-Old
During the height of my marital misery, I learned so many lessons and many of them
came from sources I least expected. It seemed that once my heart had been opened,
there were lessons to be learned everywhere I turned – even in seemingly ordinary
events or conversations. Every day has become an opportunity to learn and to see
more clearly. God has a way of sending messages via outlets that best enable His
message to penetrate our increasingly thickened skin…even “out of the mouths of
babes.”
Riding home from school, I persuaded my daughter to tell me about her day. You know
the drill:
“How was your day?”
“Good.”
“Did anything special happen today?”
“Not really.”
Page 118
The prompting questions continued until she finally realized Mom wasn’t going to
leave her alone until she gave me something!
“Well, on the playground today, I was swinging with Andrew. But we were divorced.”
My heart sank. Divorced? Had this new word become part of her daily vocabulary,
along with school, swing and recess?! But how? I never talked about it. Her daddy and I
were having problems – even going through a brief separation – but we never
mentioned the word divorced.
She had, though. And I couldn’t help but prompt her more. “What do you mean?”
Still jovial and lighthearted, she said, “Oh, our swings weren’t moving together. I was
swinging forward while he was swinging backwards.”
Whew, I thought. Harmless. Simple fun. Until I saw firsthand what she was talking
about, and I knew it wasn’t so simple after all.
The next time we were at the playground together, both of my daughters rushed to
the side-by-side swings and jumped on. With their long, flowing blonde hair blowing in
the wind, they swung together back and forth. Their bright blue eyes sparkled in the
sunlight, and their glowing faces looked at one another lovingly as they smiled.
Page 119
“Look, Mom. We’re married!” shouted my eight-yearold. At that moment, I saw into the depths of her
discovery. They were happily swinging next to one
another. Their swings were in complete unison, in
perfect harmony. Each had to work at it by pumping
her own legs, but they kept in perfect time…and they
looked so happy doing it. They smiled joyfully at one
another as they soared above the playground,
seemingly without a care in the world. Of course,
they did have their cares waiting for them when they
got off (albeit pint-sized cares, like who was going to
fix their lunch and which one was going to be the
first to claim rights to the computer when we got
home). But at that moment, none of those superficial desires mattered. They were
enjoying each other in that moment.
“Okay, Mom. Now I’m going to show you what it’s like to be divorced.” I wanted to
shrivel up right then and there. There she goes with that word again, I thought. My
eyes darted around to see who might have heard my daughter talking about divorce –
who might have just learned that my husband and I were having trouble in our
marriage. I wanted to tell her to get off the swing right now! Perhaps it was because I
was embarrassed. Or perhaps it was because divorce had actually crossed my mind
many times, and she had just unknowingly revealed my secret to the world.
Page 120
Although reluctantly, as if I didn’t want to become more aware of my emotional pain,
I watched her. She scrunched up her little face and pumped harder and harder until
she had completely broken the harmony she once enjoyed with her sister. Until she
was far enough away from her sister’s flow that she’d not be able to keep time with
her again…not even by accident. She swung forward, her sister swung backwards. They
no longer smiled side by side. It was a strain to even see one another. “This is
divorced,” she proclaimed.
No, it wasn’t so simple. The complexity and underlying dynamics of a marriage had
been discovered by a group of third graders on a playground.
How? Could it be that their parents had all inflicted this pain upon them? That they
have all been exposed to the heartache of a broken marriage, and of a broken family?
Have they all had to grow up with the realities of divorce? Or could it be that it really
is so simple. Could it be that we – the adults among them – have become so caught up
with our own chaotic lives that we are now incapable of noticing just how simple it
really is?
You can picture it. Put your pointer and middle fingers together and move them
together back and forth like a swing, keeping them parallel and in perfect rhythm. See
how easy and effortless it looks? See how natural it feels?
Now, break up that
harmony. Move one finger forward while the other moves back. It’s not as natural. At
Page 121
first, it takes more effort to keep that kind of rhythm going. But eventually, you get
the hang of it and can take your mind off the focus while your little fingers just keep
going. Then strangely enough, the motion resembles scissors. Did you notice that? And
that’s where the real ugliness comes in. My husband and I had become scissors, cutting
each other up. It wasn’t even an effort anymore. We didn’t consciously plan for it to
happen – we just did it. It was the rhythm we had created, and it became effortless.
Until one of us fell off the swing. And when one was down, it wasn’t much fun trying
to fight the rhythm alone. So the other fell off as well.
Fortunately, through counseling, we have discovered the means to get ourselves back
in harmony. We don’t always swing in unison. But now we know how to recognize
when one of our swings begins to break ahead or fall behind, so we can regain our flow
before one of us falls – or jumps. Keeping those swings moving in unison is no easy
task. It can be frustrating, and at times heart wrenching. My husband’s swing, for
example, will probably never be fast enough for me. He describes himself as a “three
toed sloth,” moving cautiously at a snail’s pace throughout life. I, on the other hand,
speed through life sometimes overlooking the little details along the way. When I know
where I’m going, I much prefer to navigate the waters of life using the jet ski
approach whereby I get there as fast as I can, anticipating and preparing to overcome
the obstacles that might come my way.
My husband, on the other hand, prefers the floating approach - lying on a raft without
paddles and floating until the currents of life drop him off on the shore, at which time
Page 122
he stands at the water’s edge and surveys the situation before formulating his next
move. The statement, “This difference can be frustrating” would probably win the
award for “understatement of the year.” At times, my husband’s pace seems hopeless
to me. Similarly, there are many traits within myself that I’m certain bring my
husband to the same feelings of hopelessness. Accepting and embracing our
differences has become an endless endeavor, and it requires much effort from both of
us, both in adjusting our actions and our expectations.
God lit a fire in my soul. My husband hates it. He calls it rash, confrontational
behavior. I call it passion. He would much prefer to smother that fire until I’ve
become more calm like him. But God made this a part of me for a reason and I don’t
want to change it. Heck, I couldn’t anyway – not without the help of Prozac! What the
Lord is now doing with me is helping me to use this fire for His glory rather than using
it to tear others apart with abrupt, sometimes fierce, words and careless reaction.
Then there’s my husband, awaiting the next crisis before he’s moved to take action
rather than proactively planning ahead. I call his “wait and see” attitude avoidance.
He calls it patience. What God is doing with him is teaching him to use his “wait and
see” time wisely to seek the Lord’s counsel and direction during these times. This
realization helps me to be more tolerant of our differences, and not want so
desperately to change my husband’s behavior. That’s not to say I particularly like it,
but accepting his gift of patience is in essence helping me to learn to be more patient
myself.
Page 123
We tend to see so many faults in our spouses, and the anger it stirs up becomes
difficult to control. “If that man leaves one more pair of dirty socks on the floor, I’m
going to scream!” Or, “Once…just once I’d like to have a break from bathing these
kids every night. Where is it written that this is MY job?!” Perhaps it will help to
remember these words: God created your spouse for a purpose. Does God really care if
your spouse leaves dirty socks lying around, or if I leave the lid off the toothpaste? And
if He doesn’t care, why do we care so much? Our continued “caring” will eat us up.
We’re different. We’re all different. We were each uniquely created by the Lord
above, each part of the body of Christ, and each contributing to the good of the
Kingdom. God had no use for a world filled with human clones. In fact, He created us
with only one thing in common: because we are human, we are imperfect. No matter
how great we think our spouse is, in all likelihood they will eventually disappoint us.
Not necessarily because of their imperfections, but because of ours. We forget. We
place expectations on them that are not attainable by anyone other than God. We
forget that their individual uniqueness (regardless of how annoying those traits may
become) was created for a distinct purpose. My drive to do things now leads my
husband to think I am hot-headed. His desire to move more slowly and methodically
oftentimes leads me to believe he just doesn’t care. Yet there are occasions when God
will need my quick response, and other times he will need my husband’s patience.
Separately, we may drive each other nuts. But together, we become powerful
members of the Lord’s team.
Page 124
Even with this knowledge, I must confess that sometimes I feel as though it would be
easier to give up. I find myself wondering if restoration is truly worth the fight. And
it’s during these times that reminders are thrown into my subconscious thoughts, or
sent into my physical presence. My head begins to visualize our counselor’s office,
with me sitting in a chair across from her as she reviews the results of our personality
tests. I hear her voice telling me, “you see, this is why…” and I replay the words, “be
patient. He’s trying…” over and over in my head. I hear my prayer counselor’s wisdom
telling me “It’s in God’s time; not yours. He’s working on your husband too. You just
keep your hands out of His way so He can do His work.” Still, I occasionally become
frustrated with our differences – and what I perceive as a lack of effort on my
husband’s part – that I teeter on the brink of giving up. And at just the right moment,
the great Lord above sends me another message, like the pelican, encouraging me to
hang in there.
The Pelican
Sitting on the beach this morning, I
watched the grace of a soaring pelican
in the distance, hovering over the
blue waters in search of his next
meal. Having spotted his prized catchof-the-day, he dove with gusto into
Page 125
the waters below, then floated effortlessly as his beak lingered below
the water’s surface. I waited for his delight – the moment when he
would throw his head back, dropping his catch from his pouch to his
belly. But that moment did not come. His beak continued pointing
downward in the water until his wings began lifting him out of the
water to even greater heights. Again, he soared with his proud wings
stretched until he spotted his prey. Splash! Into the water he dove.
Still, nothing. I watched him make several unsuccessful attempts
before I realized how remarkable it was that he didn’t seem the least
bit frustrated, and wasn’t about to give up. As I watched him soar off
into the distance – still in search of his big catch - I closed my eyes in
prayer, hoping to find peace for my restless heart.
I prayed for God’s guidance in understanding the inner turmoil bubbling
inside of me. I anguished over my marriage. Why did it seem no better
today than it was one year ago when it fell apart? Why did our old
habits never seem to die? Why did our destructive behaviors keep
creeping back into our lives? And why was I sitting on this beach,
distraught that I didn’t have the marriage I wanted – and instead had a
relationship that just never seemed to be good enough for me.
Page 126
As I prayed, I did find that peace I had been longing for. I also found
more answers than I had expected. Yet the most profound answer came
when I opened my eyes.
There he was again – right in front of me. The pelican had returned,
only this time he was close to shore and had just made another splash
into the water just as I had opened my eyes. I was just in time to see
his head jerk back with pleasure as he enjoyed his well-deserved (and
long
anticipated)
catch.
I
smiled
at
his
persistence
-
his
accomplishment. Then before he could even get out of the water, he
caught another. And another. And another! Without needing to proudly
spread his wings and soar high into the sky, he gobbled six fish right
there in front of me.
Soaring high above the Gulf, the pelican had been searching for the big
fish. But his natural God-given instincts told him it just wasn’t the
right time, and he followed this guidance back toward shore…back
where he could appreciate the little things. Had he continued his
search over the distant waters, he never would have noticed the
schools of smaller fish swimming near the shore. The ones that would
satisfy his growing needs, leaving him content and at peace – not
longing for more. If that pelican would’ve continued his search for the
Page 127
big fish, he might very well have starved. But he had enough sense not
to lose sight of what was truly important.
Enjoy the little things. Be thankful always. Or be miserable and
frustrated. If a bird has enough sense to know that, why oh why can’t I
seem to get it?
God gave us something called free will; and this
oftentimes leads to a choice to ignore our natural instinct to return to
the Lord for the little things – particularly in a world that surrounds us
with the temptation of finding the big fish. In search of the big fish,
we hunger. And though we might even become ravenous, even that
state is oftentimes not enough to bring our focus back to Him. Oh no,
we keep searching on our own – assured we’ll find that big fish. And all
the while we grow increasingly frustrated; increasingly miserable. We
completely lose sight of the little things.
Like my marriage.
I want a new, dynamic, rekindled relationship so desperately that I fail
to see the little things that have changed for the better. The progress
we have made, albeit small, goes unappreciated - even unnoticed.
Consequently I become frustrated, impatient, defeated. And in times
as these, I must remember the lessons I learned from The Pelican.
Page 128
It is so difficult to surrender it all to the Lord and to stop feeling sorry for ourselves. It
is so difficult to allow God’s timing to replace our own impatience. And it is so
difficult to love a spouse who has hurt or disappointed us – not a love borne of
obligation, but true love that can be found only in an untainted heart. As I grow in my
Christian life, I pray these things will become easier for me. Until then, I continue to
remind myself of what a marriage is all about according to Scripture…not according to
me:
1 Corinthians 13:4-7 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast,
it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps
no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It
always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. (NIV)
Healing my own inner turmoil was a remarkable step, but it was only the beginning. I
must learn to love, as the word of the Lord commands me to. If I cannot truly love my
husband, who can I love? If I can show more empathy for a stranger in need than for
my own husband, what does that say about my supposed Christian walk? I ask myself
these questions many times, as I struggle with the constant urge to keep score in my
marriage. “I did this, this, and this…now it’s your turn to do something to contribute
to our restoration. Just one thing on your own to show me you care!” I look for
payback – something that tells me it’s all worth it. I do this, I suppose, because I am
an imperfect human like the rest of us, and hence much less Christ-like than I would
hope.
Page 129
When Jesus died on the cross, arms stretched out in perfect obedience, He didn’t look
to the crowd and say “I hope you appreciate this!” He said, “Forgive them, Father.”
That becomes a powerful visualization when I find myself weakened by my own selfish
needs rather than maintaining focus on what is truly important. By the grace of God,
someday I will learn – and my relationships will be all the better for it.
Faithful One
I once heard a story about a tree that had been named
and honored with its own engraved nameplate,
“Faithful One.” In reality, this was initially two
separate trees, but as they both grew, they grew
toward each other until their trunks and roots had
completely entwined. Eventually, as the two tightly
wrapped trees grew taller, the two trees appeared to
become one. While they grew as one, they continued
their upward growth, rising ever closer to God. This
resulting tree was enormous and its obvious strength
left no doubt it could withstand any storm.
That’s what it’s all about. Becoming one through marriage. And then never failing to
take that blessed union to a higher level…always striving to seek a closeness with God.
Page 130
A couple that grows together and stands strong in the Lord can weather any storm that
comes their way.
This is the relationship my husband and I are striving for, and we will continue to do so
as we make our way through this life. But there is not a day that goes by when I am
not aware that this blossoming relationship was borne of great pain. We lost a great
deal along the way, but we have gained so much more. And so it goes with a life in
Christ. Be willing to surrender it all. For no matter what you might lose along the way,
you can be assured of one thing: Having God in your life is all you really need.
Chapter 9 Another New Beginning
Songs: Ocean Floor, by Audio Adrenaline
When
you
forgiveness,
forgiveness
to
receive
God’s
mirror
that
others,
and
become filled with the peaceful
presence of the Holy Spirit, you
emerge full of joy and ready to
conquer the world. It is a feeling
I had never before experienced,
nor even imagined. I was on top
of the mountain, growing in faith and securing a closeness with the Lord I’d never
experienced before. The journey getting there wasn’t what I’d call fun, but the
moment of arrival was spectacular. Standing atop that beautiful mountain, basking
and celebrating in His glory, I wanted to shout with joy, “Thank you, God!” But
instead, I managed to make my way to the edge, seek out the steepest and most
radical cliff, then dive off head first.
Much to my dismay, being atop that mountain is not a permanent state. This lifetime
is full of new beginnings, and each one has a purpose – a plan – to bring us closer to
the Lord. Every struggle is an opportunity to strengthen our Christian walk, and to
Page 132
Chapter 9 – Another New Beginning
learn how to become more Christ-like. The time I have spent with Regina has helped
me to realize that our struggles resemble a separate path that winds around the
mountainside rather than up the mountain. There’s a big difference: until we get it
right, we’ll keep going around and around that path…over and over again, if
necessary.
Only then can we progress to the next level, rising in our faith and
obedience to the Lord. And once there, guess what? It begins all over again. My natural
hurried pace would prefer to find the shortest path and run up the mountainside, and
it goes against every grain of my nature to accept the fact that this isn’t an option.
The quick and easy path simply does not exist.
The spiral journey up the mountain is a constant struggle, yet one that is full of
opportunities to build and develop the character we will take with us on our quest for
salvation. With a promise of eternity, I suppose it only makes sense that we should
expect to work hard at it while we’re here. Frankly, I don’t like this part of being a
Christian. I oftentimes feel like a rebel child in a school full of restricting rules,
knowing that if I am to succeed, I must somehow tame my free spirit to abide by
them. But when I don’t succeed, I don’t get a hard whack on the knuckles with a
wooden ruler. Thankfully, when I fall on this journey and am lying face down on the
ground, the good Lord seems to understand. He doesn’t wait for me to stand up so He
can disgracefully scold me and send me back to the bottom of the mountain. Through
His grace, He allows me to stand up, dust myself off, then continue where I left off –
and that is where I continue until my stubborn mind finally absorbs the lessons being
taught.
Page 133
I liken it to my daughter’s timed math tests at school. If she fails to complete 100
problems within five minutes, she doesn’t fail. She’s not sent back a grade level,
consumed with frustration and defeat. Instead, she’s given another opportunity the
next time. And the next. Until she gets it right. And once she does, she can emerge
with a wonderful feeling of accomplishment –ready to conquer the next level.
I suppose it was time for me to learn whether or not I was ready to move on to the
next level. Had I learned to love and to forgive? Had I learned to take my anger to God
rather than allow it to devour my soul?
I was about to find out.
After my husband and I had worked through our problems, our life together was back
on track. Until the day I discovered he had inadvertently bumped into “the other
woman.” Rather than behave as I thought he should have – as a man who was now
faithful and loyal to his wife - he chose to remain in her company, chatting as if she
were a long lost friend. Worse yet, my husband opted to keep it a secret. But secrets
can never be kept if the Lord chooses to reveal the truth, and in this case, He did
indeed chose to reveal the truth to me.
So much for our pledge of honesty. So much for our agreement not to keep secrets. So
much for believing he had actually learned from his mistakes the first time around.
Page 134
And so much for the thought of ever trusting him again. “We only talked,” he tried to
assure me, as if this somehow helped to justify his behavior. But for me, it was as
though he had betrayed me all over again. I felt the dagger pierce my heart with the
same force that had occurred only three months earlier. If this was his “best behavior”
after only three months, what was I to expect three years from now?
I was furious. My soul had turned
into a tornado, spinning out of
control. I experienced feelings I
had never felt before – and they
frightened me. It was as if I had
been betrayed all over again, only
this time I was determined to
make
him
pay.
This
time,
I
wanted revenge. If he thought I
was such an awful wife, I was going to give him a valid reason for thinking so. What
they say about a woman scorned…well, let’s just say you can believe all you’ve heard.
All that “seek and ye shall find” crap in the prior chapters – thrown out the window. I
couldn’t write anymore, or at least not anything that was appropriate for someone to
read. My hope of one day helping another woman through this devastation flew out the
window, along with my hope of ever helping myself.
Page 135
I ran from God as well. I knew if I fell to my knees, he’d answer my cries with words I
didn’t want to hear; with calls to action that I didn’t want to take. So I made a valiant
effort not to allow him to do that. All the while, I scorned. I brewed. I began searching
for a divorce attorney. And I began, once again, to imagine my life without my
husband, and without the intentional hurt that he had inflicted upon me once again.
The next day I found myself sitting in my garage putting on my sneakers as I prepared
for a bike ride. Suddenly I burst out into tears and pointed my anger to God. I yelled at
him, “Why do you want me to stay with this man? Why? Why won’t you let me leave
him?” And through my storm I heard His gentle response. “You will find out one day.
But not yet. One day you will see. Trust me.”
Damn, I thought. I knew He would fill me with words I didn’t want to hear! I
immediately disconnected that conversation and got on my bicycle and rode away,
pumping madly like never before – expending my anger there on my bike rather than
succumbing to the urge to inflict great bodily harm upon my husband.
I spent the rest of the day in a state of deep depression. Later that night, I pleaded
with my husband to let me go. I told him I didn’t want to stay in this marriage, but
that God wouldn’t let me go. “So please,” I begged, “if you’re not willing to change,
and if you’re not willing to do whatever it takes to make our marriage work, then
please just let me go and put me out of this misery.” For reasons I will probably never
understand, he did not jump at my offer and I sunk further into my darkness.
Page 136
My bitterness and anger were unleashed upon my husband, and I must admit that the
vengeance felt good - for awhile anyway. But I soon realized that the poison I wanted
to hurt him with was within me…I was the one who actually drank it. By carrying
around the unforgiveness, resentment and hatred, my wrath wasn’t hurting him
anymore, but it was killing me.
Then, out of the blue, Regina called me on the telephone. Freaky, I thought. How did
she know I was spinning out of control? My mask was very much intact. No crying from
me this time. Oh no, I was going to stay strong this time and handle it MY way. And he
was going to pay.
“So, how is everything with you and Bill?” she asked. Surprisingly, without hesitation, I
blurted it all out. How he continued to keep secrets. How he doesn’t know the
difference between right and wrong. How he continues to hurt me. And how I wanted
to make him pay.
“Well, Kristi, I think it’s you who needs to come in for some ministry.”
Me? What in the hell is wrong with this woman? Didn’t she hear me? It’s all him! It’s
him all over again! He’s the liar! Those thoughts rushed through my head, yet (and
again, for reasons I will probably never understand) I managed to pencil her in on my
Page 137
calendar for the following Tuesday. As ridiculous as her response sounded to me, I
knew she was right.
I had been trying to run from it, but I knew she had a valid point. I did need to
discover the root behind my pain. Most likely, it wasn’t really about my husband’s
behavior at all, although I wanted to believe it was. Yes, I was hurt; yes, I was angry;
and yes, I had every right to be. But his behavior, albeit inappropriate, did not justify
the hatred and anger that swelled within my soul, nor did it justify my wanting to hurt
him or to leave him.
Ephesians 4:26 has become my most frequently revisited verse of scripture: Be angry,
but do not sin. Anger is a God-given emotion, and it’s okay to be angry. But it’s not
okay to sin…not okay to want to hurt my husband, and not okay to live a life full of
resentment, bitterness and hatred.
Before my appointment with Regina on Tuesday rolled around, I had begun doing some
preliminary work on my own. I had stopped running from God. I had begun to search
once again for His peace; for His grace. But it was quite clear that this time around, it
wasn’t going to be at the faster-than-light speed that had happened before. This time
was an agonizing struggle. This was one of those times I found myself feeling as though
I were crawling up the mountainside with bruised and bloodied knees, continually
slipping further down along the way.
Page 138
My depression lasted ten days. On the last day, I happened to pick up a book tucked
away in my husband’s closet, which a spiritual mentor had given to my husband when
our problems first surfaced. I picked up the book and decided to have a look. I was
astounded to skim the book and read words that utterly described my husband’s
attitude and behavior over the past two years. This spiritual mentor had seen within
my husband the inner struggles that I did not. But it was all right there in the book,
chapters that perfectly described my husband’s slow but noticeable dissent from his
family, the attitude and behaviors I had grown to despise, his inability to
communicate, the obvious emotional turmoil consuming his inner being. The book I
held in my hands could have been my husband’s autobiography over the past two years
and I found myself awakened to the inner pain he must have been suffering. I also
found myself wondering why I had never seen the book, and why I had never cared
enough to find out what was really behind my husband’s changed behavior.
Over these past ten days, I felt hopeless. I lacked ambition. I would go to a store and
waste one hour trying to decide which product to buy – a trip that should’ve taken a
mere ten minutes. I stammered around the house wondering what to do next, and
ended up doing nothing. I was with my children, but was distant. I was unable to “live
in the moment” and find enjoyment in anything. The hope of sharing my experiences
by writing a book was all but flushed down the toilet. I felt like a failure. I didn’t
know where I was going or what I was doing – only that I was dreadfully unhappy again
and it was all his fault.
Page 139
We bashed heads again in an argument and I unleashed my anger upon him…full
throttle this time. I looked him in the eyes and with pure disgust, yelled “I hate you!”
In that moment, I’m quite sure I did. But the words shocked even me. Everything
brewing inside of me - my unhappiness, the desire to really let him have it by yelling
mean and hurtful words - was more than I could resist and I was overcome by the
temptation. After I had done it, the ugliness of the moment stared me in the face. And
it was my face staring back at me in the mirror. Ugly. Mean. Hateful. Spiteful.
But upon reflecting on that moment just a couple of hours later, I learned what it was
all about. Why did I happen to pick up that book today? It had been sitting in my
husband’s closet for three months and went largely unnoticed by me. There was a
reason I picked it up – a guiding hand that led me to that book. I needed the
knowledge to understand what my darkness was all about…to understand what my
husband had been quietly fighting for so long. I realized that the depression and
darkness I had felt during this time must have been similar to what my husband had
been feeling for two years. Mine had only lasted ten days, yet it was awful. His inner
turmoil had been brewing for two years.
When my own anger peaked, I couldn’t resist the temptation to unleash it upon him
with mean and hurtful words. I am verbal and my anger tends to surface that way. My
husband, on the other hand, keeps everything inside. And when his anger peaked, he
ran away into a world of secrets and betrayal. By being dragged through this
abbreviated course, I understood. So many times I have asked “Why? How could you
Page 140
do this to me?” But as I experienced that moment of complete despair and
hopelessness, I could not control my actions. I knew the words would give my anger an
outlet – at least for a moment – and I could not control the temptation to do wrong. It
was in that moment that I finally understood how he, too, suffered the despair and
hopelessness, and his affair wasn’t about hurting me. It was his moment – his way – of
seeking a temporary outlet for his angst.
This new understanding came with more pain and more hurt. Yet it also came with
more growth. And without this new opportunity to see - without this new opportunity
to go around the mountain yet again – I probably would have found myself sitting in a
lawyer’s office signing divorce papers instead of refueling my eagerness to get this
book into the hands of another woman who really needs to read it.
I have learned to begin the healing process, but have also gained the wisdom to know I
need help in finishing the job. Having Regina in my life has been a true God-send.
While I continue to battle the resistance to admit I need help, the times I have spent
in prayer with Regina have uncovered and healed areas in my life that may never have
otherwise seen the light of day. This time was no different.
She began our ministry by working on that overwhelming feeling of betrayal I had felt.
That awful, stomach-churning feeling of being rejected, turned away, unloved. Being
the wise woman that she is, Regina knew it didn’t begin with my husband, and in
prayer, she asked Jesus to show me the first time I ever felt that feeling of betrayal.
Page 141
Amazingly, the scene was before me – as vivid and as real as the first time I had ever
lived it. I was perhaps eight or nine years old, and had been away at my first sleepaway camp. Upon my arrival home, the car I was riding in pulled into my driveway and
my mother excitedly ran to the car to greet me. My Mom always had a way of making
me feel loved and good about myself, even during the hard times, and this time was
no different. She was so happy to see me, and I was equally as happy to be home.
After helping me out of the car, she led me to the backyard. Our backyard had been
home to many fun neighborhood gathering, and many of them were among my top
childhood memories: popsicles after a game of softball; late night story-telling after
catching fireflies; sitting and eating the rhubarb we picked out of the alley behind our
house while enjoying the fragrance of the beautiful lilac bushes that surrounded our
yard.
But there were even more memories that were not so pleasant, and this was one of
them. The picnic table was covered with empty beer bottles, and loud intoxicated
adults were gathered around. My mother approached my father and excitedly
exclaimed, “Look who’s home!” My drunken father barely raised his head, and with
slurred speech he said the words I will never forget, “Tell her to go back to where she
came from. We were better off without her.”
There it was. Evidently my first memory of betrayal. The emptiness I felt looking at
my father, and feeling ashamed that he was my father. The gut-wrenching feeling of
Page 142
being unloved and unwanted by someone who was supposed to care about me. The
shattering realization that yes, his life would be better without me.
My husband’s behavior had triggered this memory deep within me, along with the
feelings that came with it over thirty years ago. While my husband’s actions may have
been the ultimate trigger that pushed me over the edge this time around, they
certainly were not the fire behind my response. This was. This, along with many other
buried memories that would resurface.
Why had this never come out before? Why had I never seen this memory in previous
prayer time? I don’t know why. I can only accept the fact that it just wasn’t time for
Jesus to show me until now, and therefore it hadn’t previously been the right time to
work through the feelings that accompanied the memory. Now was the time, though,
and as I relived that pain, He spoke to me. He told me how much He loved me. He told
me He planned for me long before I was ever born – that He has always wanted me.
The pain my father inflicted wasn’t about me at all. His actions were not thrown at
me to hurt me. They were his reaction to troubled times; to temptations he wasn’t
strong enough to fight – just as I myself had recently been weakened by the
temptation to yell vile words at my husband.
Similarly, my husband had never intended to truly hurt me. His behavior was also his
reaction to troubled times; and to temptations he wasn’t strong enough to fight. I will
work on your husband, He assured me. You work on you. And He told me that He
Page 143
needed me to stay focused on Him, that He needed me to stay close to Him. He
needed me to do His work, and I couldn’t do it if I remained feeling sorry for myself.
Again He showed me that it wasn’t about me at all.
With this understanding I embraced His power of forgiveness. I let it all go. And by
doing so, I moved a tiny step up that mountain. While I long to experience that
moment again – the moment of standing atop the mountain wanting to shout with joy –
His grace has become sufficient for me. It doesn’t really matter anymore where I am
in my journey. It only matters that He is with me, even during the times I am once
again lying face down on the ground.
By now I know those times will come again…they often do. But I also know I will learn
something from them. I continue to find myself crawling through the darkness at
times, but it is from the wisdom gained through those times that I am able to once
again stand in the light. We’re human. We fall from grace. We stumble off the path of
a true Christian walk. We trip over our own clumsy feet along the way to salvation.
And so do others. But when we surrender it all to God, we see the experiences for
what they really are.
We must learn to accept these imperfections within each other, and to forgive those
who hurt us along the way. Luke 17:3 contains perhaps the most difficult piece of
Scripture for me to live. Jesus told His disciples: If your brother sins, rebuke him. And
Page 144
if he repents, forgive him. If he sins against you seven times in a day, and seven times
comes back to you and says, “I repent,” forgive him.
My initial interpretation was this: “Seven times? You mean my husband could do this to
me seven times, and I am to forgive him? Bologna! Surely there must be another
interpretation in this bible somewhere. When is it enough…when am I allowed to say
“Enough already” and give up on the guy? But this piece of scripture is not really about
“seven times” at all. It’s about forgiving one another, and forgiveness is to be
limitless.
Just as the Lord is quick to forgive all of our sins, so must we be quick to forgive
others who have sinned against us. Yikes…that’s a tough one. But if we don’t abide by
scripture, the act of not forgiving will eat us alive and will prevent us from ever
receiving God’s peace. I know. Although I hadn’t realized it, the act of not forgiving
consumed my life for decades.
It happens to be Christmastime this year. I am finishing up this chapter in the wee
hours of the morning before the impending sunrise lights the sky, with darkness
prevailing throughout our home. As I look at the magnificent Christmas tree glowing in
the corner, I am reminded of the struggles we have overcome during this past year,
and the victories we now share. In many Christmases of past, our lives resembled the
ornaments. Each one was beautiful in its own way, but they were completely
Page 145
independent of one another. If one fell off and crashed to the floor…so what. The
others remained hanging and never took notice.
But
the
lights
–
the
lights
represent the life we now share.
The strand shines brilliantly until
one of the bulbs goes out, then
the entire strand grows dim.
When one of us grows dim, we all
take notice. We all work together
to help that light shine brilliantly
again, and when it does, we are
all standing together – led by God’s shining star on top. And with His guidance, I am
confident that the lessons I have learned through this excruciatingly difficult year will
guide me throughout my remaining walk on this earth.
And so…as I continue my walk, I will keep my mirror tucked away, but shall be
reminded to reach for it when my burdens begin to feel like the result of someone
else’s actions. I vow to routinely clean my closet from the accumulation of dust and
clutter resulting from a neglected soul, knowing that sometimes I will need to seek
help in reaching the farthest, most desolate corners. I will remember the healing
process of a wounded knee, and know that wounded hearts can heal as well. And I
will continually remind myself of the pelican’s message to take notice of the little
Page 146
things and to be thankful always. Although my life will be full of new beginnings, I
will not live in fear of the future, for I know that God will give me the strength to
endure whatever comes my way.
I will never again be content to exist. I will live. And I hope you will join me.

Untitled - Kingdom Life Anglican Church

Transcription

Similar documents

HOT PRICE!

4Day Sale! - Foodland: Atlantic

Read the whole story here!

GOLF`S A FUNNY GAME A husband and wife are on the 9th green

Cine Blitz TAJ OPRAH !!

Issue 18 - St Mark`s School

the full set of slides as a pdf

Elle Sojourn June Issue

NEWSLETTER - Hillbrook Anglican School