Chapter 22 #3
“You know those thoughts aren’t from God, though, right? He’d never speak to His son like that. You’re far too valuable to Him.” Her voice struck a chord in me, and I looked into her wide eyes.
“He wouldn’t. I know that deep down, but once this depression infiltrates my mind, I have to be alone. Fight it on my own. It’s too embarrassing to talk to anyone about. What would they think of me, Ren, if they knew? What are you going to think of me now that you do?”
Her eyes softened. “Anyone who truly knows you and loves you would never judge you. Never expect you to be perfect. Only Jesus was able to do that while here on earth. You’re listening to a voice that brings destruction.
Then once you believe it, you’re filled with shame and guilt, which pushes you away from God, believing He’s displeased with you.
Mike, that’s not God. That’s not your Father who loves you deeply. ”
More light dawned inside me at her words. She was right. Deep down, I knew these things, but I’d allowed the wrong voice to be louder.
“I’m just so tired of pretending that everything is all right,” I sobbed loudly as the dam broke. She slid across my lap, both legs on one side of me, and held me as I cried, cradling my head on her shoulder.
“Then don’t pretend anymore,” she whispered. “I’ve got you. You’re not alone. I’m here now.”
When I lifted my head to meet her gaze, I saw her pain mirrored in mine.
Two lonely souls who had found one another, bound by God in this unique story He was weaving.
I held her closer as we both cried, my violent shudders shaking us as I began to let go of the fears that had twisted inside me for too long.
I told her to trust me, and this was the last wall I needed to tear down.
All I wanted was to be free of my fears, free of this struggle to fix myself. I wanted her to be free as well, and I wondered what it would take for that to happen. After what felt like an eternity, the tears slowed, and I took a deep, stuttering breath as I lifted my head.
“Listen to me. When I worked on a project in Tuscany where the owners wanted to use a lot of wood elements in a particular room, I learned something,” she said softly as I looked at her.
Peering into her eyes, I was struck with the sincerity in them.
“Did you know where knots come from in wood?” she asked.
Clearing my throat, I answered, “It’s where branches used to be, right?”
She nodded with a smile. “That’s right. The tree grows around that branch. But if that branch is cut off, the base of it stays in the wood and becomes a knot. But the tree doesn’t fall apart. In fact, that knot sometimes is what makes the tree stronger.”
I looked at her in confusion, and she grabbed both my hands, leaning them on my chest.
“Mike, our mistakes and failures don’t disqualify us from God. He uses them to make us stronger. When you cut that tree apart, and a knot is revealed, it’s a reminder that something was removed, but the tree still stands.”
Her words reverberated in my mind. I’d given that failure to God years ago, but the depression that now plagued my mind kept bringing it up even though I’d let it go.
Marrying Ren and thinking about the first time she and I would be one had only exacerbated that.
Admitting to her that I was secretly dealing with depression had brought us to this reckoning.
“You’re right,” I said, my voice rough with emotion. “I don’t want to bring this into our marriage, Ren. I don’t want to pretend anymore that everything is okay.”
“Then let’s pray together. Make this something we do regularly,” she said, letting go of one of my hands and brushing my hair from my face. Her sweet scent enveloped me as her wrist came close to my face. I wanted to wrap us both up and never let go.
“I’d love that. More than you know, but I think I’d like to lead us tonight.” She smiled and closed her eyes. I took a deep breath and spoke.
“Father, thank You for bringing Ren into my life.” I paused and tried to find the right words.
“Thank You for reminding me that I accepted Your forgiveness for this years ago. Help me to stop bringing up dead things. Things You’ve cut out of my life.
Thank You for having my wife remind me of that tonight.
Help me know what to do with these feelings that have been plaguing me.
Forgive me for thinking You were angry with me.
Please help me to be the husband Ren deserves. We love You, Father. Amen.”
I pulled her into my arms and kissed her head, whispering words of thanksgiving.
“Mike, we’ve said a lot tonight, and I don’t want to put too much out there, but I’d like to say this last thing. I think you should talk to Pastor Danny about counseling. I really believe it would help.”
I paused for a long time thinking about admitting to someone I looked up to that I was not perfect. My pastor had relied on me to help disciple younger believers, and I’d feared what he’d think of me once he knew the truth. Taking a deep breath, I nodded.
“I think you’re right. I don’t want to carry this on my own anymore. Talking to you has helped tremendously, but admitting that I’ve been having some of these feelings for years has me thinking I need to speak to a professional.”
She smiled widely, wiping my last tear. “I’m so glad you’re open to that. Just know that I’m right here with you. You’re not alone.”
“Neither are you, Ren. I’m right here with you, too.” I gazed into her eyes, wishing I could show her how much I loved her. I wanted to kiss her and promise that I’d stay right there beside her always.
“Thank you for saying that. You might need to remind me often,” she said softly.
It was in these moments that I felt her allowing herself to get closer to me emotionally.
We were going to need each other to build on this foundation of friendship, love, and trust as I navigated through counseling.
I wanted to say so much more, but I knew my words and actions had to be carefully weighed.
My wife wasn’t there yet. I’d accepted that when we took our vows, and I’d be patient until she was ready.
“Ready to get some rest?” I asked. She gently slid to standing and I took her hand and walked her to her room. “Thank you for…well, everything tonight.”
She twisted her shirt in her hand and looked up at me. “Thank you for trusting me. Good night.”
I smiled and answered, “Good night, Ren. Sweet dreams.”
Several days later, after letting my pastor know I needed to speak with him, we scheduled my first appointment. I hadn’t told him what it was about yet, but I was grateful to have someone I trusted to turn to.
That Saturday, Ren and I went to La Jolla to spend some time on the beach.
She had been working on design projects at the house, and we both needed a day to just have some fun.
I’d brought my board, trying to convince her to try it.
She scoffed when I pulled it out of the truck bed, and I held her hand through the sand until we found a spot to sit.
“Mike, I am not getting on that board,” she said, her free hand on her hip.
“Oh, I am getting you on it, Spitfire. Your stubborn streak is what will help you master surfing.”
She was shaking her head, making her curls release from her bun on top of her head. “Not going to happen.”
We were still teasing each other when a familiar face passed by, did a double-take, and turned back.
“Mike? It is you. Wow, it’s been forever,” Melissa said. We’d gone on a few dates, but nothing ever came from it.
Ren gave her a friendly smile. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, husband?” Her emphasis on the word ‘husband’ made Melissa startle. I thoroughly enjoyed jealous Ren.
“Ah. I’m sorry. Did you just say ‘husband,’” she asked incredulously.
“She did. Melissa Malone, this is my wife, Renata Walker,” I answered proudly. Melissa was one of the many women who’d made it clear I wasn’t husband material. I cringed just thinking about it.
“Well, this is a complete surprise. It’s nice to meet you, Renata.” They shook hands, but I noticed that Ren scowled when she let go. Turning to me, Melissa said, “Mike, I didn’t think you had it in you to be serious about being a husband.” Her tone was teasing, but I felt the sting.
I looked away and tried to decide what to say, but my wife seemed to have other plans. She took me by my left hand, clearly showcasing my beautiful wedding band, and said, “Well, that’s because he wasn’t supposed to be anyone else’s husband but mine.”
My smile returned as I looked at her in awe. Melissa’s mouth hung open, and she turned and walked away.
Twisting to pull Ren into me, I whispered in her ear, “That’s my Spitfire.”
She huffed. “You got that right, Data Boy. And you can put the surfboard away. It’s not happening anytime soon.” We didn’t end up getting in the water, but I was determined to see her on my board one way or another.