Chapter 24

Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.

—Hebrews 4:16

 

 

 

 

When I arrived home from the shop, no one was there. I set the cake on the counter and began to search the refrigerator for something to eat.

As usual, Zeke had already come and gone. It was obvious he’d eaten—his dishes were exactly where he’d left them. That’s what aggravated me so much about him. He wouldn’t lift one finger to ever cook anything, not even a piece of toast. He expected me to cook, which was fine, but he would never even attempt to clean up when I finished, not ever. He wouldn’t wash a dish. Wouldn’t load the dishwasher with his dirty dishes. Wouldn’t even put the leftovers in the refrigerator. According to him, “That’s what women are for.”

I had tried to rebel, a little earlier in our marriage when the girls were small. I decided I wasn’t going to cook or clean unless he helped me with something around the house. My not cooking or cleaning didn’t bother him one iota. And since he went somewhere practically every night anyway, he simply left earlier, claiming he was going to find him something to eat. Forget that I and his children had nothing; he was only looking out for himself. After a week of dishes piling up (somehow, he still managed to find ways and occasions to mess up a slew of dishes), I couldn’t take it any longer. I cleaned up and went back to doing what I knew wouldn’t get done if I didn’t do it.

So when I came home from the flower shop, there, as usual, were his dishes waiting for me to load in the dishwasher. Zynique was starting to be more and more like her father: gone every night until it was time for her to come home. In fairness, she was working for Madame Perry and bringing in her own money. But she still resided under my roof and therefore, under my rules. I wasn’t having any guys spending the night (accidental or not), and she had a set time to be home. I never knew for certain whether she actually adhered to the new post-high-school-graduate agreed-upon time, since most of the time, I was out like a light when 2:00 a.m. rolled around. The shop was much busier these days (thank the Lord!), so I was worn out and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Still, as I loaded Zeke’s dirty dishes into the dishwasher and tried to think of something I could fix for myself to eat (since he’d eaten all I cooked and was left over from the night before), I couldn’t help but lament (at least somewhat) that I’d turned down dinner with Ethan.

I grabbed a can of ravioli (Zynique’s food of choice) out of the cabinet and opened it. As it heated in the microwave, I looked up toward the ceiling and laughed.

“God, now You know this is wrong, don’t You? I know You see this kitchen and me here all by myself. I’m trying to do the right thing here, but it’s not fair that it looks like I’m the one always on the wrong end of the fairness stick. But I want to thank You for grace. And I thank You for mercy right now. And I ask that You please forgive me for that small indiscretion from tonight. I really do need You right now. It’s so hard to do right when you have someone like Ethan right there in front of you. Lord, You know what I’m dealing with. I’m trying my best to resist. But I’m going to tell You the truth, Lord, not to imply that You don’t already know what’s really going on inside of me. But Ethan is a challenge for me. He is.

“And it would help if You could speak to my husband . . . find a way to get through to him and tell him to at least meet me halfway. I know I’ve been praying this prayer for years now. And so far, nothing seems to have changed. In fact, it’s starting to look and feel like things are getting worse. Because God, at least before, I had the girls with me. Now everybody’s gone. Before, there was no one around to tempt me. Now there’s Ethan. The sad thing about this, Lord, is that I don’t want to ask You to take Ethan out of my life.” I laughed. “I don’t. I know I probably should. That’s what I should be asking You to do right now. But I don’t want to. I should be concentrating on me and my shortcomings instead of praying about Zeke and his. I should be asking You to make my heart not beat so hard when it comes to Ethan. But God, I’m being honest with You: right now, I like at least being able to talk to Ethan, even if it is only every now and then, and even if it’s only as friends.”

The microwave beeped—letting me know that my mouth-watering gourmet dinner was ready. Yum yum. Bon Appetit!