“The enemy boasted, ‘I will chase them and catch up with them. I will plunder them and consume them. I will flash my sword; my powerful hand will destroy them’” (Exodus 15:9, NLT).
You know the part of the story where the villain enters the scene, and he is introduced: “Boys and girls, the big, bad wolf was following Little Red Riding Hood as she walked on her way to her grandmother’s house. She had a basket of goodies she was going to give to her grandmother. She didn’t know the wolf was following her…” I didn’t know the wolf was following our family—beginning to encircle us. This wolf could not be seen with human eyes. And this time, I had a family.
My family got involved in Ann’s church and learned a lot about the Bible. We developed a friendship with Ann and her husband Joe, which was like family. Their kids were like our kids, and our kids were like theirs. They only lived one door away from us, so I would often call Ann and ask what she was cooking for dinner, and then we would eat together on the spur of the moment. We shared everything—especially laughter and God. I thought I was really starting to get what it meant to be a Christian.
I was so pleased to see that my husband was finally willing to try a non-denominational church. I was convinced that Russ needed to change. In fact, I was sure that we would be happy if he would just come to know the Lord. Russ and Joe were buddies. They got along well, and I remember resting finally in the knowledge that God did indeed have a plan in all that was happening.
I read In His Steps for our book club and decided that our life was too good—too easy. In fact, I was convinced that I needed more trials to get to know Christ better. I prayed for more trials. I don’t recommend asking God for trials. Soon after, Joe lost his job, and his family had to move to California. Right before my eyes, our friends who were helping so much to draw us to God left. I wondered what in the heck God’s plan was then. My daughter was left without her best buddies, and my heart was broken from missing my kindred-spirit friend.
My husband was not the friend I had in Ann. He only briefly had the patience for my silly girl talk. He was often fun and friendly with our friends, but he closed off from me like a brick wall when it came to talking about matters of the heart. I felt a certain part of him was separate from me—inaccessible. I prayed about it. I nagged like a dripping faucet. I whined. I coaxed and cajoled. I grew silent. I hoped. And then I started to see something else come out in him: anger.
* * *
Russ and I moved to a new house—a bigger one in a quiet, heavily treed neighborhood. We didn’t think we could get into it. Actually, we were short about $5,000, but a friend at work gave me a check for that amount and said we could have it and pay it back when we could. We went to closing and found that an error had been made by exactly $5,000. This was like God speaking to me about the house. I had asked him to make it clear to us whether we should buy it, and this felt like an answer. We were able to go back to my friend with a check for that exact amount of money that same week. We bought an extra lot so that eventually we would be able to sell it and clear some debt that was plaguing us.
Russ and I were not on the same page financially, though. As time wore on, we began arguing and fighting over finances constantly. I grew more and more fearful of spending money for the reaction I would get from Russ. His harshness shut me down. I kept praying for him to change, not seeing that I might do better to focus on myself.
I had finished school, gotten a good job, and was earning as much as I could. I taught reading and learned as much as I could about reading instruction. I felt my expertise expanding. I taught in a highly socioeconomically disadvantaged school. It was very stressful. I longed to be closer to home after school. It wasn’t that far away but far enough to make me feel like I needed to be there after school to keep tabs on my kids. I would rush home, get the kids settled in, and start dinner—and then I’d run. I started running to help wash out the day’s stress. I could turn my brain off, and instead of spending an hour venting with Russ about things at work, I would come in feeling more refreshed and less like I needed to verbally vomit.
Running was never a word in my vocabulary until later in life. I ran a little here and there when we were first married and after I had Kadie, and then I fell out of shape. After Ann and Joe moved away, we found new friendships, but one couple in particular helped to define the life we would eventually lead after our inevitable marital collapse. Roy and Janet were runners. I admired their physicality. I admired their marriage. They really seemed to have it together.
I admired Janet’s strength and talked over my feelings of guilt about working and being a mom. Janet would agree about our friendship. It did not start off as easily as mine had with Amy. It grew to be a bond that was as strong as—or stronger—than family in many ways. Janet was not the kindred-spirit friend like Amy but more of a directly honest, open, fun-loving friend. We were opposites in many ways: I was sensitive and nostalgic, and she was candid and more direct—not insensitive, just not one to mull things over too long. We were both loyal, and consequently, we shared lots of laughs once we got to know one another. Our children were all essentially the same age, just each spread out by one year. When we got together, everyone had a friend. We spent vacations together; read the same books; started attending a new church together; talked over God, wine, and children; and helped each other with moves, work, and cooking. No one had been there for us—apart from Amy and Rob and our families—like Roy and Janet.
Janet, Russ, and Roy all encouraged me to apply for jobs closer to home. When a reading specialist job opened up at our neighborhood elementary school, I thought I had it nailed. I prayed and asked God to help me. I applied for that and a first-grade position but was given neither. My job was still very stressful, and I had been there long enough that I thought a change of venue would be appropriate and good. Apparently, God and I weren’t on the same page. I took this shut-down pretty hard and began moving toward other goals: a marathon, National Board Certification, and my master’s degree. At the same time, I moved from my reading specialist position to the classroom.
I was given a classroom of twenty-seven delightful children in the first year. I thought I was crazy. It proved to be even more challenging than I had expected with seven children on particular behavior plans. The next year, I had a reprieve from the behaviors, but the next year I was back up to nine behavior plans—one with a full-time aide. That year proved to be the most challenging of my entire life. I thank God every day that I had Christian friends at work and Janet to call upon.
Some days, the children just seemed to be crazy. I’d get one calmed down, and I’d notice another one under a table. My management skills were honed in dramatically, but even that was not enough on some days with one child who needed medication for severe behavioral issues. I’d find her locking herself in her locker or hiding under my desk! Despite all of that, when she was on her medication, I was able to see the calm child she could be, and I fell in love with her. After all, that little girl, crying out for help, reminded me of myself.
* * *
In the meantime, my husband was at the boiling point with my spending. I tried to control it, but it seemed like we just could barely get by paycheck to paycheck even though we were making more money than ever before. I blamed him in my heart for not adhering to God’s Word about tithing, yet I couldn’t stop buying groceries for our family and the growing crowd of friends at our doorstep. I loved to cook, provide, and entertain.
My focus shifted to more attainable goals. I began training for a marathon, which took time away from family. I worked on my National Board Certification, which involved writing every morning at 2:00 or 3:00 a.m. for nearly six months and then performing related tasks at work to complete the certification. Then I got accepted to a master’s fellowship program that took me away from home for six weeks for two different summers. I grew more and more independent and farther away from Russ and God.
Every time Russ and I would fight, I would quietly give up. I wouldn’t retaliate anymore. I stopped caring. I cared about my children and the home that we provided, but I couldn’t take the yelling, fear, or eggshells I walked on with him anymore. I felt afraid, and even though he had never hit me, I was afraid that physical retaliation might start at any point. I had seen it a time or two when he lashed out at our boys. I wanted to protect them from harm, so I became quiet, and I really tried to control my spending. I tried not to aggravate Russ in any way. I tried to satisfy him in the bedroom. I felt like if we had sex, he was happier. He was just closed off from me intimately, and I didn’t know how to reach him.
Although we had many happy times with friends—and even with each other—it was like we were headed downward on a spiraling train. I was merely waiting to crash. At times, I actually longed for a crash, but I didn’t want anyone to be hurt. I hated that Russ didn’t feel that way. He seemed content—even happy. How could that be? He would escape to work outside, which would drive me to work out my frustrations training for a marathon alone. I hated that he seemed oblivious to my pain. I gave up asking God to change him. I hated that I had to keep asking. I hated listening to sermons that spoke about the role of the spiritual leader in the household. Where was he? I hated waiting for the leader to protect me and our children. I couldn’t breach his wall. I gave up trying. I hated myself for my selfish, inescapable feelings. I was too tired and too weak to even have hope. Little did I know that I was being taken down by an unseen predator.
When a wolf hunts, it chases its prey with relentless ambition until the prey is too tired and weak to go any further. When a wolf attacks its prey, it surrounds the prey with the many members of its family and goes in for the kill. The wolf tears at the flesh of its prey with its teeth and claws until it is able to grab a hold of the neck and break it, ending the life of the victim.
Heavenly Father,
Do not let her go astray. Do not let her become lazy or tired. Let her remember the special gifts you have given—seen and unseen. Help her to see you, know you, and hear your voice. Open her eyes! Help her to see that you can take her pain, work, and imperfections. She is very vulnerable; protect her. Let her know she is ultimately protected. Help her to rid herself of herself and know you—whatever it takes, Lord.
Comfort
“And He who sits on the throne said, ‘Behold, I am making all things new’” (Revelation 21:5a, NASB).
Discussion Questions
1. Describe your most significant relationship to date.
2. Describe your view of God. Who do you say God is? What does the Bible say when you read through the different Psalms? What do you believe about the Bible?
3. Why do you suppose God allows trauma to happen? Do you believe He tests individuals? Why?
4. What does it mean when people say, “God doesn’t give us anything more than we can handle?” Is there biblical truth in that? Look up Romans 8:26-38 and John 8:12.
5. Have you ever gotten caught up in yourself? What are some examples of times this has happened?
6. How do you feel about the analogy of the wolf? Who is the unseen predator in the main character’s life, and how is he like the other wolves? Has this unseen predator ever come after you? How?
7. What things/people do you cling rather than placing your trust in God? Do you hold anything, your children, your favorite past-time, your emotions, your drinking, your marriage relationship or friendships back from Him, fearing you might lose everything?