Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: PROTECT (04/16/20)
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TITLE: The Marriage Is Finished But . . . | Previous Challenge Entry
By Linda Lawrence
04/22/20 -
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As an 18-year-old it was about my daydream of being chosen—chosen by God to be the “helpmate” of a missionary I admired.
So what motivated my husband to choose me? He was almost 30 years old and had recently given up a desirable job at CBS because he heard God call his name. He, too, had been chosen.
He didn’t know me when we married. I didn’t even know myself. We were unaware of our motivation. It took decades for us to recognize and appreciate it was the Holy Spirit directing us. We followed where we were led. Not as a team though. Carl went. I followed.
Carl went ahead, alone. Often to prepare the way for the children and me. That admirable motivation contributed to my sense of us not being partners. His desire to protect me from anxiety resulted in my remaining a “girl” for too many years. He defined my “helper” role as the keeper of the home—a role I loved. Carl’s role was the provider and protector.
Every few years I broached the subject of wanting more “oneness” in our relationship—emotional intimacy, partnership. The fear in Carl’s eyes, fear of not being enough, made me back off. I chose to protect him from pain. We were both afraid to be vulnerable. Now I see we were protecting ourselves.
Around the time the children left home, a house guest, a friend speaking truth into my life, suggested it was time I stopped seeing myself as the girl-bride and more as the woman-partner in Carl’s life. I told my friend he liked being the leader, the protector in our family. He would not appreciate my role expanding. Maybe not at first, she said, but in time he will be thankful.
Time brought major health issues for Carl. Our children began to see me as steady and strong—attributes they would only have attributed to their Dad before. But I always knew God was our protector, not Carl.
The day Carl announced he was going to Rwanda to see how he might help the refugees, right at the onset of the massacres, I was furious. It didn’t occur to him to discuss this with me. He thought he was simply protecting me from worry. But not being consulted made me feel like his child, not his wife.
To make matters worse, right at that time I was trying to build a relationship with a teen-age neighbor coming off of drugs, hoping to connect him with Calvary Chapel. Carl worried about my safety, so without my knowledge, forbid the young man to come around our house. Carl could risk being killed in Rwanda but I could not follow the Lord’s leading to befriend a lost soul? Augh. I know he did it out of love and fear for me, but I didn’t want that kind of protection.
It has dawned on me that Carl’s fear of not being able to protect me from anxiety is what motivated him to keep his struggles and decision processing to himself. He did see me as a girl. But I wanted to worry with him! Not really—I’m not a worrier. But I wanted to be able to remind him that God is our protector and that we need not fear. Of course he knew that, but I wanted us to lean on each other during struggles in order to grow together.
During the last years of Carl’s life, when he was house-bound and I was his caregiver, he struggled with fear when I was out of sight or hearing range. I was frustrated until I realized his fear revolved around his being incapable of protecting me. He needed to see me, to hear me, to know I was safe. I was finally being given the opportunity to be his helpmate—assuring him God was taking good care of me. We could finally rest in our Protector’s wisdom and knowledge, and in His promise that all things work together for good to those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. That only took 53 years.
Whew! Enough processing for now. . .
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