I have read a lot of books on how to have an expert marriage
in my days. Christian books, full of
advice and answers. I remember reading a
particular piece one day that struck me and I pinned the line in my mind,
making sure I did not forget this one. It
was to wives, and it said, “Women, if you are not fulfilling your husband’s
physical needs, he will find someone else who will.” I knew at that moment that I had to
change. I needed a drastic remodel of
myself and my feelings towards my duties as a wife. It was up to me to make this sex thing
awesome. I began working out and wearing
more make-up. I got a new hair cut and
color. I bought lingerie. I put up the sweats and shaved my legs more
often. I even told my husband that I was
not ever going to give him a reason to have a wondering eye. I would be enough. I also remember that during that conversation
I mentioned that there was no way I could ever stay married to a man who
cheated. How could you ever recover from
that? How could you ever trust again?
I had it all wrong.
My husband had already felt that I did not desire him, and that mixed
with the tragic, long-term effects of mental images that had been burned into
his heart and his mind as a boy left him searching. He was searching for love in the form of
desire and consistent sexual encounters that blew his mind. He was searching for something I did not have
to give. As he pushed and I pulled away,
we created the perfect storm. There are
many opportunities lurking at each and every door that is opened for someone
who is searching. They don’t have to
look far for the answer they believe they need.
In his searching and my new drive to make sex perfect, I
added it to my list of jobs a complete, Christian wife does. Good sex, often. Check.
Check. But that is all it
was. A job. He felt it, and in all of my hope of making
what was wrong, right, I was only leaving him with the feeling that he was a
good provider, father, minister and friend, but not a lover. He needed me to long for him, and I was
simply marking a task off of a list for the day.
Soon after he told me about the past 7 years and the ways he
had sought out the other sexual encounters, we did a lot of soul searching and
discussing. I knew we needed to seek
professional help, but with the small minister’s single income and our pride,
we chose to work it out on our own.
After all, we had signed up for a marriage retreat in November and
decided to let that be our savior. We
were moving in the right directions with the secrets out in the open now and
were discovering what and who we were.
It was the end of October, and we were driving through the
night to visit close family. Our sweet
babies were sound asleep in the back of the car, and as it grew dark outside,
so did the mood inside. He was very
quiet and I finally, nervously, asked if everything was ok? It wasn’t.
He began to quietly talk about his feelings towards me and with every
crushing word, let me know that I was not what he needed, and that I hadn’t
been for a while. He told me that he
didn’t know if he loved me any more and that he needed to move on. Once again, I was in complete shock and
instantly began the process of trying to convince him that he was wrong. That we were perfect for each other. That he had told me the day before that he
loved me. That we had been through a
very hard situation, but we would make it through stronger than ever. That I knew I had not been enough, but that I
was trying harder. I could not believe
that even though we had our struggles he could discount all of the amazing
years we had together and the family we had built. But, he had shut down his heart towards me
and there was not a single thing I could do to open it back up.
We made it through the trip and back home, faking every move
and word, not letting anyone in to the private hell we were living
through. We decided to go ahead and go
to the marriage retreat in Colorado, and I was holding on to the hope that it
would change his mind. That we could get
away from the world and find each other.
Once again, I believed that if I could only be enough, we could return
home and start over. It is strange how Satan can play with your mind. How he
can take a marriage and twist and pull until it is torn into pieces. Our weekend may have seemed mildly successful
and more secrets may have been revealed, but we were far from in the clear. Satan had convinced him that he deserved
better and that this was not a battle he should fight. He was looking for the greener grass and all
I could see was the dead of autumn.
That November, we packed up and left, homeless, jobless and
hopeless. At this point we were still
living together with family, but the nights were getting colder. I remember lying in bed next to him, longing
more than ever for him to turn over and see
me. To acknowledge that I was
there. To speak. To touch.
Anything that would show me that he was working on his end of the deal,
yet the only deal he was working on did not have me in the picture. He had made up his mind and one morning that
Thanksgiving week, he was gone. Just
like that, he left and I did not know where he was or have any way to get ahold
of him. He took 7 years of marriage and
left them behind as he moved into a quiet new world of self-discovery.
It was in that moment that I realized just how ugly life
could be. I remember falling on my knees
begging God to answer the endless questions and help me find my way. How in the world could I parent these 3
precious, clueless children when I could not even find the energy to eat? How would I rock them and hold them tight,
reassuring them when they asked why their Daddy was not there to tuck them in
at night? How do you do life when part
of you has chosen another path? What do
you do with this pain that seems to leave you for dead?
At the same time I was realizing how awful our circumstances
were, God was moving in. The One who had
always been there made sure I knew this
was not a battle I would fight by myself.
While the marriage books were collecting dust in a cardboard box in
storage, His word was alive and active.
The days of believing in a God of the heavens were gone and He pressed
His way into the very air of my bedroom and my lungs. His voice was thick and His presence firm,
and while I did not know the outcome of this tragic affair, He affirmed that my
children and I were going to make it through this. In my loneliness, I was anything but alone.
Written by an Anonymous Pastor's Wife
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