“In your anger, do not sin.” Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold. – Ephesians 4:26-27
I want to preface this story by saying that I’m not the person I was when this happened forty-five years ago! Back then I was a 25-year-old new mother, a city girl, now living in a “little house in the big woods” in Michigan. (The woods weren’t that big, I suppose, but you get the scenario; spoiled brat in the process of being un-spoiled.)
It was an even longer, colder, snowier winter than usual. I had a bad case of cabin fever, having been stuck inside with the baby for most of the week. I’d had to put someone else’s needs ahead of my own. Poor me.
My dear husband had spoken to me earlier in the week about the possibility of watching baby Joanna for an hour or two, so that I could get out and do a little cross-country skiing. It didn’t have to be cross-country skiing. It didn’t have to be anything, as long as I could just get out of the house and have a little “me time.”
But it hadn’t worked out that way. Marty had ended up being gone most of the day, “doing his thing,” and by the time he returned, the few hours of January daylight were about gone. And I was mad.
In those days Marty didn’t always notice when I was peeved, and I wasn’t about to tell him. After all, a man is supposed to be able to read his wife’s mind, right girls?
So, instead of the doing the reasonable thing and talking to him about my disappointment, which, after all, would put a real damper on the pity party I was planning, I lay awake that night, stewing. The fact that my husband was sleeping like a baby infuriated me even more.
Finally, at about midnight, give or take a few growls and sighs, I decided to get up and go out. Never mind that there was nowhere to go.
Let’s see how he likes being left with the baby! I thought. I knew darn well that when Joanna woke up hungry and fussy, he’d have nothing to give her. I didn’t leave a note telling him where I was going … because I didn’t know.
Starting the car, I half expected Marty to come running out to see what was happening, but he was a much sounder sleeper than that. So, I headed into “town.”
Onekama’s streets were predictably deserted when I got to the village limits. The Christmas lights had been taken down, and their absence made the streets seem even darker. I was a bit surprised to see the lights on in the little church I attended on Sundays. I didn’t see any other cars when I parked and got out, but I went up and tried the door anyway. I was surprised to find it unlocked. I stepped into the sanctuary, walked down the aisle and sat down in the front pew.
I’d like to say I was “pouring my heart out to the Lord,” but to be honest, I was basically b*tching to Him about my lousy husband’s lack of consideration.
I don’t know how long I stayed there, but I guess at some point the Almighty decided He’d had enough. I heard a loud click, and suddenly I was in the dark. With a slight shudder I decided that maybe it was time for me to be on my way…
I wish I could say I did the sensible thing and went home, but I wasn’t through bit– er, venting. I drove in the opposite direction, as once again the snow began to fly. I should have asked myself where I was going and just what did I plan to do if/when I got there. Or what might happen if I ran out of gas or got stuck in a snowbank.
I blubbered through another pitiful tirade (making everything about me, of course), ending with “YOU understand how I feel, don’t You?”
And then, for the first time I listened, and God finally got a word in edgewise.
Of course I do, the Still, Small Voice said gently.
Then after a pause, He added, still gently but firmly, I also know how Marty feels, and you don’t. So why don’t you just go home now?
Thoroughly rebuked by those few words, I stopped, sheepishly turned the car around, and headed back.
I wondered what I would find when I got there. Would Joanna be awake, hungry, and hysterical? Would Marty be up, pacing, sick with worry? Would he be contrite? – or would he be (rightly) angry?
But as I walked up to the door, the house was as silent as the snow falling outside. My husband and my baby were both sound asleep, blissfully unaware that anything out of the ordinary had happened.
Quietly, I shut the door behind me, and the moment I did, I heard Joanna’s whimper. I sighed wearily and headed into the nursery. Upon seeing her, I smiled. How I loved that baby girl! I scooped her up, held her close, fed her, changed her diaper, sang and rocked her, and laid her back down. Then, finally, I let it all go and sank back into the bed by my husband, who never stirred until the morning light.
Prayer: Lord, thank You that I am not who I was! Thank You for Your patience through all my tantrums and pity parties. Thanks for protecting me through foolish and dangerous choices. Thank You for loving me right where I was – but loving me too much to leave me there. Help me to keep growing and becoming the person You created me to be. In Jesus’ name, amen.
P.S. When Still, Small, Voice spoke to me that night, He could well have been saying, little lamb, You. Have. NO. IDEA. A few nights ago, after 45 years, I learned for the first time what had happened to Marty one day – possibly that same day – when he was out in the snow. I’ll tell y’all about it next week.