He did good for a few weeks. Then a few months later, there's 2 more entries, then one last one 6 weeks after that. I never knew what happened to the journal after that. I didn't ask. It was one more indication that his heart wasn't in it, and one more brick in the wall.
I found it last week. Apparently, Darren had found it and had written in it one more time. I'm not sure if he left it out for me to discover, or if he carelessly left it behind. He wrote:
I just found this and didn't even know what it was. How completely sick. I'm such a loser. Stacy is way too good of a person for me. I can't believe she's actually put up with all these empty and broken promises.
Now all I can think about it "How long until I fail again? A week? Less? I feel like such a fraud and completely unworthy of another chance."
I've been secretly holding on to that last sentence as a sign of hope that he might actually want another chance. But in the back of my mind, I've also found myself wondering that if and when he comes around and asks for that chance, will I be willing to give it to him? Or will I be done, finished, realizing that I'm completely unwilling to risk going through this again? I've grappled with fear of the guilt that a realization like that might bring, if and when it happens.
Last night, as I do most nights, I texted Darren to tell him I'm praying for him. He generally doesn't respond at all. But last night, my phone rang immediately. "Would you like to pray together?" he asked. I said sure. He prayed first. Some of the words he used cut deeply. I thought it odd that his prayer could be so hurtful. When he finished, I was silent. I was reluctant to talk because I knew my voice would shake with emotion. Finally, I did pray, and my voice broke as I began to cry. "Even in Darren's prayer, I feel barbs. Help me hear truth and only truth," I prayed. "Guard my mind and heart from hanging on to the hurtful things and instead, train me to seek out hope and courage and faith in your timing."
Darren remarked, "I'm sorry I said something in my prayer that offended you. I can't imagine what it was I said."
"I wasn't offended," I replied. "It hurt, but it wasn't offensive."
I explained that when he prayed for God to soften his heart because "the obstacles seem insurmountable and I can't imagine a future", it cut me. How could my husband feel that way about our marriage? Obstacles? It seems so strange to me that he would have obstacles to overcome. *I* have obstacles to overcome, for crying out loud. His infidelity, his broken promises, his insistence that he doesn't love me and never has, his unwillingness to seek professional help, etc etc etc. I wish he could express the obstacles he is facing. I'm not sure he even knows what they are.
He said he understood what I was saying. Then he said he had to get up early and was going to bed. The end. As usual, when the conversation turns difficult, he shuts down.
So I pondered again ...what if we get to some distant point in time and I discover it's too late and I'd rather be alone than married to him?"
And the words of my gentle but shoot-you-between-the-eyes counselor came back to me:
"Do you believe that God can change Darren's heart if Darren wants his heart to be changed?"
"Yes," I answered, "Of course I do."
"Then why don't you believe that God could change YOUR heart, if Darren's heart is changed?"
"I do. Of course I do."
But what if my heart doesn't WANT to be changed at that point?
I know.
I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. That, and a dozen other scriptures come to mind.
I know I shouldn't worry about that just yet. I know I should plant my feet in the present and trust God to guide me through the rest. I'm just being honest. I might be done. And that scares me more than him never coming to his senses does.
No comments:
Post a Comment