My stormy marriage of 26 years yielded many lessons and many opportunities for God to speak…and He did…sometimes in clear words and sometimes in the things that happened…things that He allowed and things that He orchestrated…all for my good and His glory.
The rift between my husband and me began to widen. His anger…for him a protective shield against the pain of his own suffering as a rejected son, which I did not understand…and my stubborn independence and reactions to his rages dug a chasm that only became deeper as the years went by.
Oh, how I wrestled with my own bitter resentment towards him, conveniently forgetting that there are always two in the equation.
Our caravan became my refuge.
Wherever we were, first in the city, then in the town where my husband ministered in a small church, and then in my own home town…where we relocated to be with my eldest son whom we had placed in a boarding school, close to my parents…the conflict continued and the chasm widened. I spent agonising times in the caravan, locked away in secret, to weep and cry to God for deliverance from this prison of anger and fear.
I was terribly afraid of the rages that exploded with volcanic violence at the slightest provocation. Even worse was the fact that one of my sons who clearly had his father’s genes, angered him so much that one night, after a trivial incident, he threatened to kill him.
I clearly remember, on another occasion, as I sat in the bath bewailing my ever-recurring resentment towards my husband and the depth of my own sinful heart, “How can you put up with me?” I cried out to God.
The words of the Lord came to me, clearly in my heart…”I can handle your blunders but I cannot handle your pride!” What a rule to live by! God’s words hit me between the eyes.
I must confess that, though the message was clear, I have not anyways remembered it to my detriment. Isn’t pride the most lethal of our attributes as descendants of Adam?
Our marriage finally ended in divorce in 1991. I had promised the Lord that I would never take the initiative in a divorce. I would wait for him to deliver me…and He did. After a particularly explosive situation, my husband ordered me to get out of the house and never come back…and I fled!
By this time, three sons had left home to make their own way. My youngest son was sixteen…and I had to leave him to the mercy of his father…so much damage occurred during that time that I only became aware of much later in our lives.
In those thirteen months before the divorce was legalised, God spoke to me in clear directives on more than one occasion. Let me enlarge on one of them…
I left my home that night with a suitcase of clothing, my sewing machine, and a motor scooter for transport. My youngest son was left with his father because I was homeless. I spent the first few months of my exile in the Nurses’ Home of the hospital where I worked…in a small room which was the sum total of my space at that time.
After weeks of frustration with only a small table to do my sewing, and much prayer, one Sunday morning I fell on my knees beside my bed and cried out to God, “What are we waiting for?” God’s response shook me. He said “You are not waiting for me. I am waiting for you!”
In a flash, everything became clear! That’s how it is when God speaks. It was about my attitude. I was impatient, angry with God, frustrated because He was not doing anything to help me…so I thought…but He was! He was waiting for my surrender, my trust, my willingness to submit to His leading, His timing, His will.
What he said to me next was the directive that changed everything. He said to me, clearly, unmistakably, “Pay off your car,” and, “You will not go into debt.”
My father had lent me the money to buy my friend’s small car. Living in the Nurses’ Home was cheap which meant that I could repay the balance of my loan in five months instead of two years.
On that same Sunday morning, after God’s word had come to me so clearly, a friend’s husband who lived on a small holding on the outskirts of town, met me in town and told me of his intention to convert a disused double garage into a cottage for me!
God’s love and mercy had been at work all the time…and so, a few weeks later, I moved into a two- bedroomed cottage on the farm where I lived happily for four years.
As I reflect on those turbulent years…tossed out…homeless, and yet…I had a Father who was lovingly caring and providing for me, day by day nurturing my faith in Him and preparing me for my greatest adventure.
To be continued