Marriage

A Tidal Wave of Hope
by Jeannette Light  

TILLSON, NEW YORK

I stood in the crowded airport waiting area, stunned by the tele vision images of ravaged towns buried under a foot of mud. The devastating news type scrolled along the bottom of the screen, reporting thousands of lives swept away by the huge tsunami. The pictures that flashed mimicked my inner turmoil. Like those on the news, I too was shocked by loss.

While this incredible tsunami rolled over a continent's shoreline, leaving devastation in its wake, another kind of tidal wave raged in my own life. After twenty-seven years of struggling in marriage and waiting for a miracle, my marriage was soon to be wiped out, taking its place as another statistic in divorced couples.

At best, my husband and I stood at the brink of legal separation. After years of enduring his Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde personality, I could no longer ride the roller coaster of his emotions.

I agonized over this decision. I wanted to do God's will, but our marriage was no longer healthy for either one of us. After I returned home from Christmas vacation with our children, I planned to contact a lawyer. But the separation was beyond my understanding, since I had given my all to make our marriage work.

Amidst this turbulence, I looked forward to spending time with my children in sunny Florida, a brief respite to the start of a heartrending process of legal separation. As thousands bereaved the death of loved ones by the devastating tsunami, I grieved for my dying marriage. And even though I felt reconciliation wouldn't be possible at this point, I still prayed for God's will, hoping for a miracle.

Returning home on New Year's Eve, I received an icy reception. Waves of despair engulfed me. The next day I had no choice but to ask my husband to leave. He refused.

"I'm calling a lawyer," I threatened.

"Go ahead, but you'll have to drag me out of here," he retaliated and stormed out of the house, giving me opportunity to pick up the phone and actually call my lawyer.

But as I pressed the keys, I found myself dialing the number of a close friend instead. "I don't understand. Why? Why hasn't God given me a miracle after I've prayed for so many years?" Confusion and deep sorrow invaded my being as I poured my heart out to her.

Later that evening my husband returned home to his own icy reception. I suspected he would follow the same old pattern, and as always, he apologized. But I wasn't going to fall for it this time.

"It's just a bunch of empty promises." I folded my arms and stood defiant. "They've become meaningless. You need to show me change, not just tell me."

He pleaded with me, "This time I'll try—really, I will."

I knew his game, his tactics. He would be nice for a few days, then become moody and sulk or insult me and lose his temper. His last outburst cost him six weeks' suspension from his job. I wouldn't fall for his lies any longer.

Again, he looked imploringly at me, yet I turned away. It hurt deeply, but I needed to be firm. I hoped creating a crisis would wake him up to his destructive habits. Perhaps then he would turn his life around. "You need to leave—now." I stood in resolve.

The following week was heartrending. I felt shipwrecked, with no way out. I cried out to God, "Please, guide us through this storm." I knew my husband wanted to change, but he had lost sight of the correct course.

After a few days he came home.

"I'm going to change this time. Please, give me another chance." I wanted to believe his pleas, but I had already given him hundreds of second chances. Now he was even more persistent than usual. "I need you. I can't live without you. I'll do what I must." I was leery, yet he appeared genuine. Could he possibly have seen the light and changed direction? Though my mind was set, I'd allow God to alter it—if only I had some tangible evidence first.

I prayed and sensed God wanted me to ride out this storm and try again, so I came up with a plan. I made a list of five things my husband needed to do: see a psychiatrist, visit a therapist and a Christian counselor, read the Bible, and pray. He agreed to each of them. If he could follow through, then I knew rescue was possible. I scheduled an appointment for myself with a Christian counselor, while he pursued the conditions I required. Little by little I saw progress, and the waves began to subside. God had sent us a life raft, and my husband and I scrambled aboard.

After a couple of months, we attended Christian marriage counseling. In the beginning, it was painful; he was angry with me, but the counselor helped my husband untangle the knots of his anger and poor attitudes. I faced some areas in my own life that also required change.

God's hand reached into our ocean of turmoil and lifted us up. We were no longer drowning. Though we still hadn't arrived safely to shore, at least we had something to hang on to.

Then, just when our marriage was improving, another big wave hit. On a freezing cold winter day, my husband slipped on black ice and broke his ankle. He spent six weeks recovering on the couch, unable to work or do anything else. He began to sink into depression, and sometimes I felt like jumping ship, but the threat of icy cold water and God's presence kept me rowing toward land. God also extended His arms to my husband, and he climbed back onto our little raft.

But as soon as he stood, another tidal wave hit. He faced several deaths in his family, knocking him overboard again. These were close relatives he loved deeply; one was like his own father. He was miserable, almost giving up. I thought I'd lost him in the undertow of his own tsunami.

I wondered how much longer we could cling to the edge of our deflating raft. The winter dragged on, one of the worst we've ever experienced. Progress drained from my husband, as he slipped in and out of depression. I questioned my decision to stay with him, but I held to God and His promise that He would never leave me or forsake me.

Forgiving my husband was long and difficult, so I prayed for perseverance, focusing on my responsibilities while trusting God to act. Thankfully, my husband's ankle healed and the springtime came in full bloom. My husband showed signs of life, and I regained hope, just like the tsunami victims who picked up the pieces of their lives and started rebuilding.

Slowly our marriage made a U-turn and approached a safe harbor. Christ's love guided us safely back to solid ground. There were many issues to work through, but both of us learned how to deal with our difficulties more effectively. My husband gained insight into the shadows of life he had been hiding from, and I learned more about agape or unconditional love.

In the final aftermath of our tidal wave, God reassured us that hope floats, even on stormy waters. Our reconciled marriage is living proof of it.

Excerpted from:
God Allow U-Turns for Women compiled by Allison Bottke with Cheryl Hutchings
Copyright © 2006; ISBN 0764201808
Published by Bethany House Publishers
Used by permission. Unauthorized duplication prohibited.