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I’m worn out, aren’t you? I want to crash and forget today’s constant turmoil but must forge onward. Somehow, my adrenaline is keeping me intact although my heart is in pieces. And still, Denny has not walked back into the house. At this point, I feel I have no strength to get angry, cry, or even care. Right now, he should be ashamed for not contacting me.
To reroute my attention, I get a stemless glass from the cupboard and pour myself wine from the bottle of shiraz I opened earlier. I take an ample gulp for starters, figuring the alcohol will numb my senses. While in the kitchen, I look out the window and see about fifty people hanging around the access road near the field. I continue to tell myself Denny’s among them.
The “Sorry” email from Aunt Amy piques my interest. May as well keep busy and open her email as I dilute my anxiety with an adult beverage. Probably another dissertation about my wicked ways and how I must become a holy roller like she is. I’ll only do a quick read; I have no time for her propaganda.
In reopening my email server, I notice the time she sent me her missive: right when Denny and I were eating dinner, arguing, which was about thirty minutes after she left. Since she lives off Sepulveda Boulevard, about ten minutes away, it must be important if she emailed that soon after she arrived home.
I click the “Open” tab while I take another swallow of wine and start reading:
Sarah,
I write this email with a heavy heart. I’ve been working on parts of this for several days and decided to send it now since I stopped by a few minutes ago, and we had another confrontation.
In redoing my will, it got me thinking about when I’m no longer around. Although I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that after my death I’ll be in Heaven, you, my lovely niece-in-law, keep coming into my thoughts.
I must get it off my chest. I need to apologize to you, right now. I’m sorry, so sorry for how I’ve behaved these past years of your marriage. I’m wrong. I’ve done wrong to you. I’m sorry when I’m sharp or terse with my words.
Well, I muse, this is a good start to her email. I’ll give her credit for heading in the right direction for once. Interesting it took her days to write—what’s up with that? As I take another drink, I ask you what you think of her, yet you don’t reply.
Remember when we first met at lunch with Denny? I was so pleased to meet you finally and proud Denny found someone special. I was nervous that day, especially since I’d never been through one of the boys having a serious girlfriend, let alone later marrying them. I didn’t and still don’t know how to act as your aunt-in-law. Denny was and is so in love with you. You’re beautiful, smart, and well-educated. To be honest, you intimidated me from the get-go, and even more so when Denny and you got engaged and married.
My mind floats back to our engagement. Lifeguard Station Number 17 at the Santa Monica Pier with a bottle of champagne at sunset. Truly romantic, with Denny on bent knee, promising his love to me with that gorgeous diamond ring he designed. Later that evening, we stopped by and told Amy. She seemed to be happy for us, but she was hard to read. In retrospect, she might have been forcing that smile of hers.
Sarah, I need to apologize to you for so many things. I distinctly remember carrying on and on about the end times, what we call the Rapture, when we Christians are taken from the earth in the blink of an eye. I shouldn’t have blabbered; I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable about the topic. I didn’t realize at the time you wanted nothing to do with my beliefs. I tend to be forceful in my ways, not allowing you to have your own opinions. Do forgive me, please. I didn’t and never want to be a stumbling block to you.
Yeah, I remember that and all the other instances, Amy, when you’d try to nail me with your religion. I think back to other emails and letters she’s sent me. Most included Bible verses; some of the snail-mailed letters had Bible tracts, which, of course, I discarded immediately.
Sarah, I also want to apologize for continually insisting you believe what I believe. I don’t mean to, but somehow it comes out, and I say the wrong things at the wrong time, making a bigger wedge between us—between you and me, between Denny and me, and maybe, sometimes, between you and Denny. I should be patient and kind, but I’m far from it and need work in that area. I think I can somehow bully or shame you into receiving Christ, but I can’t. Only the Holy Spirit knows each of our hearts, and all things are in His timing. I know I should lighten up and let Him work in you, but I keep messing things up. Yes, God has plenty of work still to do in me.
I don’t want the divide to get wider between us; I want us to be friends, to love each other. I don’t want you to hate me. I want so much to be a part of your lives, yet I feel lost and unsure when I’m around both of you, or when I say something that you perceive as stupid, or it is! I apologize for my big mouth. I want to love you and you to love me, but I feel we can’t win for trying. With every step forward, we take two steps backward. I can’t help but think about a greater love—God’s love. Do you know He loves you more than Denny or I possibly can? He loves you, Sarah.
Great, here she’s approaching her pulpit. These are kind words, but this lady will never get it, will she? Surely you have someone in your life like her. What do you do to get that person off your back?
I feel burdened to write one Bible verse here about love. Only one, I promise. “But God commendeth His love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” It’s a simple verse, but it means so much to me. God loves you, Sarah, more than we can ever fathom. And Jesus Christ died on the cross for your sins and mine, blotting them out forever. And then He rose from the dead, to prove that His Father had accepted His sacrifice on our behalf. That’s all—that’s all you must believe to have peace with Him and spend eternity in Heaven.
You know me, I want to be like God and love you as He does. I know I can’t reach such a love, but I want you to know what’s in my heart. I want you to forget how I’ve behaved in the past. Please help me mend the gap in our relationship. Please forgive me for my past errors and try to forget when I’ve lashed out at you. I’m sorry for those lashings, for my preaching at you, and for all the times I’ve admonished you. I should not be saying these things to you.
Oh, Sarah, please, please forgive me for not being sensitive and being so demanding. Please.
My eyes race through the email, wanting to skip through the religion and savor her apologies.
I promise I’ll try to keep my mouth shut and not preach at you or Denny, although I know he believes in Christ, and you don’t want any part of it. I’m aware of what you think. Now I need to show you my sincerity with actions, not with my words—that’s where I’ve been wrong all these years.
I want only to encourage you to think about God, but I don’t want to do it with force. And if you think you’re not good enough to be one of His children, please realize that everyone falls short of His glory, but He loves you; He really loves you.
From now on, I want the Holy Spirit to guide me concerning how to approach you. Yes, I’ll continue to pray for you daily, but I’m worried about your life in the hereafter. I’ll start today to do my best not to harangue you about these things.
Time is short, Sarah. No one knows what tomorrow brings, and that’s why I feel compelled to send this email now—to tell you now, this minute in time, that I love you, and I’m sorry. Will you please forgive me, and let’s start fresh?
All my love,
Amy
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Well, that was strange. Heartfelt and different coming from her. Glad she came to my point of view. I hope she stops her perpetual proselytizing. Wonder if she will. Well, I have it in writing, so can always email it back to her the next time she gets on my nerves.
I am so sick of hearing about her religion. You can take all the Bible verses and shove them out the window from the tallest building and let their tiny, unimportant words flitter slowly to the ground. Nice try, but no thanks. I’ve made peace with who I am, even if unknown things are happening all around me. She must learn that I am me, and I’m not changing. Do you feel the same way about the whole God/Jesus topic?
I shut down the email program and finish my wine. Closing my laptop cover, I realize I never cleaned the lasagna pan. I feel that if I keep busy, I won’t have to deal with anything, including the last two hours of horrible tragedies and my husband’s disappearing act.
After removing the water-logged burnt cheese with the pot scrubber, I put the pan in the dishwasher along with James’s and my tumblers and place the brush back under the sink.
Do you think I should respond to Amy’s email? Am I supposed to reply? Wouldn’t you agree her Rapture topic about Christians being taken away was rather timely? Quite a coincidence, her mentioning this right now, in light of today’s happenings.
What would you do if a relative sent you a letter like this? Would you believe her? Trust her? Stick to your guns? Reply?
Onward.
Time to find my husband. I need him. My head and heart are in overdrive as I fight back the tears. I want to cry, but I’m afraid of letting down my guard. I never want to look or feel powerless, yet my outward phlegmatic demeanor is cracking. Denny’s the only person who may be able to calm me before I go totally out of control.