Apparently just deciding to save my marriage wasn’t like Fix-A-Flat. I could snap my fingers all day long, and pain was still my only companion.
By now my husband had moved onto woman #2. As in he was shacking up with her. Imagine what poor #1 was going through…
Of course, he never bothered to give me his new address. God handled those logistics. He showed me paperwork hubby left in the glovebox labeled with the name of his new apartment complex. No address. No unit number. No worries.
Leave it to the Holy Ghost to put me on his doorstep.
I knocked. She #2 answered. Sporting my husband’s wedding ring around her grimy little neck, no less. Girl, you know God had that fool covered—she still has teeth.
“Is Jr. here?”
And in less time than it took Dorothy to click her heels, there he was with steam pouring out of his ears.
“How do you know where I live?” he roared as if I’d stolen his family’s jewels. I reminded him I had an in with the Knower of All. He wasn’t moved. Just angry.
But since divorce was not my option, I did the only thing I could. I prayed. And God had clear—if crazy—words for me: “Tell him he has 3 days to come home.”
I passed the message along to my husband with all the conviction of a fourth-grader giving a report in Social Studies class. He looked at me like I was as nuts as I felt.
Surprise, surprise. 3 days came and went. Nada. Zilch. Zippo. It was still me, myself, and I. And my goodness—what fun it was to sit with that particular company and own my stuff.
I had nothing but time and space to get real about my side of the street. My husband wasn’t playing ball. And I wasn’t leaving.
The only thing left to do was get to my rock bottom. And ask for forgiveness along the way. Only to find unforgiveness I’d had toward my father. Who knew my trust issues ran that deep?
And then take a deep breath and let it go.
As I stumbled through once hidden layers of trauma of my own, all kinds of women touched by marital pain entered my life. The lights were on. This was not just my burden.
And God urged me to share, even back then. Nearly 2 years after proof positive of his cheating. No hint of a resolution in sight. And God wanted me to speak this truth?
Was He losing it?
He ignored my doubt. In fact, He told me, ”As you share, so you will heal.”
Why did He have to speak in code? I truly had no idea what God meant. How did A=B? Clueless and with my back against a wall, I sucked it up and obeyed. What a concept.
