The beginning

The memory of that night is etched deeply in my mind.   The pain of it brings tears to my eyes even now.

It was very late, after midnight when HSSH fled from our home. 

It felt like something came in and stole him from me.

I called my parents and woke them.  I told them I was coming over.

I was strong until I walked up on the porch of my parent’s house. I fell into my dad’s arms.  I wailed like I don’t believe I have ever wailed before, and pray I never will again.

I had to calm enough to get the words out and tell them what had happened.  Their tears and weeping met with mine.

Before HSSH walked out, I really felt we were going to be okay.  I had a peace I can’t explain.  I knew we would make it through. 

Now I was afraid.  Where did he go?  What was he doing?  Why did he run?  What happened?

He was so broken.  So ashamed.  So very sorry for what he had done.  He hated himself.  He couldn’t look at me or touch me.

The next day is also etched in my mind.  I love the autumn days.  It was one of those perfect September days.  I couldn’t bring myself to face anyone.  I couldn’t tell my kids.  It was all going to go away.  He was going to drive back in the drive at any moment.

But, as the day wore on.  He didn’t come back.  He finally called.  The news of where he was broke my heart all over again.  This is not happening to me.  To us.  To our family.

I stood at my living room window wondering what I was going to do.  What people were going to do?  Who would be here for me?  Would anyone care for us? 

I went to my Bible for help.  I found it.  It was the only thing that brought me peace.  The first scripture I wrote in my journal after HSSH left was Isaiah 49:13-16…

13 Shout for joy, O heavens;
       rejoice, O earth;
       burst into song, O mountains!
       For the LORD comforts his people
       and will have compassion on his afflicted ones.

14 But Zion said, "The LORD has forsaken me,
       the Lord has forgotten me."

15 "Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
       and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
       Though she may forget,
       I will not forget you!

16 See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;
       your walls are ever before me.

As the days moved forward,

Shock begin to settle in. 

Things begin to get fuzzy.

People started finding out.

People started helping.

I have no recollection of how my children were handling things. 

I remember trying to give them hope that their dad was returning.

Supermom had died and their dad was gone.

I couldn’t eat.  I learned a new level of grief.  One that involved no appetite.  No caring.  The most horrifying way to lose the 20 lbs you’ve been wanting to lose.

My children’s schooling began to concern others.  I was the one responsible.  It wasn’t happening.  Someone paid the tuition for them to go to a private school.

I think I walked around my house in a daze.  Talked on the phone.  Took long walks to clear my head.  Poured over the Bible, searching for an answer.  Prayed.

Meals began to come in from loving friends.  My neighbor started organizing who would bring meals when.

People sent cards.

People sent money.

We didn’t hear from HSSH often, but when we did it would send me into a tail spin that would last for days. 

Days moved into weeks, weeks into months, months have become years.

A friend told me of her sister and her husband separating for a year and reconciling.  My thoughts were, “I can’t do this for a year”.

Breathing became a chore.  Forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other.  Forcing myself to eat.  Forcing myself to care.  Forcing myself to live.  God giving me the grace to do them.

The bottom came for me the day that friends came over to pick up my laundry to wash for us.  Nothing is more humbling than having someone wash your pathetic, neglected, unmentionables.

I was amazed at the help that came to us.  I was humbled.  I was blessed. 

Even last night in our Stepping Up Bible study with Beth Moore, she spoke of the American way being self sufficient.  That equals success in our society.  It brought to mind how we have become very “unsuccessful”.

People in this amazing community I live in stepped in and did so much for us.  They still do.  Meals, money, groceries, odd jobs, babysitting, cleaning, teaching, car pooling, talking, caring, listening, reading, writing, loving, praying, believing.

We needed a miracle.

Pam

Originally Posted on “You’re Gonna Miss This” July 15, 2008