gentle and quiet

I was sad to leave the ranch, yet so eager to return home and take my place as a woman of God and as Darren's wife. I knew that I was a new person, and was eager to live it out.

The first thing I did once the boys were in bed was tell Darren the Unforgiveness Story. He replied with "I told you." Those words cut me. Then I asked him to forgive me for my unforgiveness. He replied with, "I've had to forgive you, too. I've never hurt you intentionally; it's not in my nature. I've done things I that I knew could hurt you, but I always hoped they wouldn't. You, though, have hurt me intentionally. I've forgiven you."

My reaction was immediate. The words flooded into my brain. "YOU found it in yourself to forgive ME? You've never hurt me intentionally? WHO ARE YOU? Do you have a brain tumor? Are you delusional?"

I asked God to hold my tongue, and thankfully none of those words escaped. Darren continued, "When you found out about the affair and called her that morning, you did that out of a desire to hurt her and hurt me. I haven't been able to forgive you for that until now."

Again, the words took flight and tried to escape my mouth. "SERIOUSLY?? Does a wife not get a pass for engaging in a little bit of CRAZY WOMAN when she learns that her husband IS IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE ELSE? When did this become all about YOU and how *I* hurt you in the midst of YOUR AFFAIR?"

Again, I asked God to quiet my spirit, and clamp my mouth. I literally bit down on my tongue to keep from speaking.

My place as a wife, in the way God designed Eve, is to be a helper for Darren, my Adam. That doesn't mean that I'm supposed to cater to his every demand or fetch him a glass of tea as soon as his sips the last drop or rub his smelly feet (although those things would be nice to do). It means that I am to surround and protect him, and give him aid when he needs it.

My place as as a woman of God is to be gentle and quiet. ME. Gentle and quiet! I'm fairly certain those words have never been used to describe me, and I certainly don't self-identify with them. I balk at gentle and quiet! It's against my nature to be gentle and quiet. I take offense at being commanded to be gentle and quiet. But now I understand what it means.

Gentle
The word gentle used in this context (in Hebrew) is the same word used for "meek" in the Beatitudes. Wait a minute, now. I'm certainly not meek! Meek is weak. Meek is timid. Meek is a little mouse of a woman. Oh, but no, it's not. Meek means to be tamed. To be tame, you first have to be wild. Gentle (meek) knows it can't run until it feels the rein. A woman of God knows she can't act until God prompts her to go.

This is my thorn, and those of you who know me will understand why. When I'm ready to do something, or ready to go somewhere, or ready for an adventure, or ready for a challenge, I'm GONE. I bust out of the gate before it's even fully open. Sometimes I bruise my collarbone on the way out as I throw the gate out of the way, and sometimes my hooves trip over the bottom rung as I go charging past it. But I barrel on, without a plan, just with wild abandon to GET ON WITH IT. I fly by the seat of my pants. I figure it out as I go. This has been the way I've lived my life, with my job(s), with my finances, with my hobbies, with my marriage, with everything. I have never - and I think it's safe to say that I really mean NEVER - waited for the pull of the rein.

Quiet
I'm a girl who "tells it like it is". What you see is what you get. I wear my emotions on my sleeve. I can't be who I'm not, and I don't fall victim to peer pressure easily. In all of that, I'm very bold, very outspoken, very LOUD. And... I can be abrasive. Two nights ago, I sat in a marriage reconciliation class and listened while the teacher read off a list of things one might have to give up in order to save their marriage.

"You might have to give up your well-paying job", he said. "Maybe you have to give up a hobby that takes too much time, or a friend who distracts you. Maybe you give up your pride. Perhaps it's your right to be angry. Or your right to be right. You might very well be RIGHT, but you may have to give up your right to be right. Maybe you have to give up your need to be heard. You might say, 'Well, that's just the way I am. I tell it like it is.' Consider that you  might just have to give that up to save your marriage. What are you willing to give up?"

It was confirmation that my need to be heard is not a good thing. And I DO NEED TO BE HEARD. I am not quiet. But now I know that quiet does not mean soft-spoken, shy, unsure, less brave. It means "to sit and wait; to be poised and ready to go".

I've always laughed about being a submissive wife. "WORD TO THE MOMMAS, y'all, I am NOT a submissive wife, ha ha ha ha ha." I declared it with pride. And it's true. I'm not submissive in the way I'd always assumed submissive to be. But last week, I learned that submission is not a character trait. It's a choice - a decision. And I learned that there's freedom is making that choice.

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So, when Darren's words cut me, my gut reaction was to lash back and BE HEARD. Instead, God's gentle reminder said, "Wait. Be still. Gentle and Quiet. Gentle. Quiet."

I decided not to speak until I felt him pull the rein. I waited for him to give me words. I went to bed without being heard. That was Sunday night. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday passed. I still had not been heard. I was growing impatient. GIVE ME WORDS! I pleaded. Nothing. Thursday came and went. That night, I sent Darren a text and asked him to talk. He shot me down coldly. He was cruel in the way he did it.

Friday morning, we talked. I still didn't feel the pull of the rein, so I trotted out carefully, thinking it would be okay. (Can you hear the warning bell sounding here?? I didn't. D'oh!) At least I didn't go charging out of the gate, right? No. I messed up. I told Darren that I no longer needed him to love me, that the desperation I felt for him to love me was gone, because I know now that my identity is not tied up in how he loves me or doesn't love me. His words and actions don't define me. I know who I am and whose I am. Then I told him that I don't want our old marriage back. That marriage was a sham. I want God to recreate us and give us a marriage so fulfilling and beautiful we can't even dream or imagine it.

He replied with, "God is telling me it's time to be apart. We can't work on ourselves together."
"Do you mean like a separation?" I asked.
"No," he answered.
"Do you mean divorce?" I questioned.
"Yes. God's telling me it's time."
"So, are you asking me for a divorce?" I pressed.
"If you want to think of it that way, then sure."
"Okay. So are you going to file the papers?"
"I can," he said. "I know you don't want to do it. I don't understand why, but yeah. I'll look into it next week and see what we need to do."
"There is a lot to talk about - logistics. The house, the kids..."
"We can talk about it tonight."

I felt peaceful about it. On one hand, I was so happy that he was moving forward, even though it wasn't the direction I wanted him to go. He'd been stagnant for so long I was just happy to see movement. On the other hand, I knew that he moves SO SLOWLY, that he's so not a man of action, that he can be so complacent and apathetic, that God still had time to work on him before he actually got around to filing papers. Really, I thought there might be WEEKS before he'd bother to look in to it.

I was sad, but not worried.
Even so, I considered how I might need to position myself. Should I look into a lawyer myself? Should I protect my rights? Would he play fair? Surely we can do this amicably. Surely the kids will be our first priority.

In the meantime, God was saying, softly, "You rambunctious, wild-spirited girl. Come back to the corral. I wasn't finished speaking to you."