by Gary Smalley
“How will I know when I’ve made that connection?” he’d asked.
“You’ll know.”
As he drove home that night, he felt more encouraged than before, but mostly about how well the dancing part of the lesson had gone. He still struggled to believe that all these “life lessons” were really going to amount to much with Marilyn. How could they? She still wouldn’t even talk to him.
His discouragement with his marriage situation worsened when he gave in to the temptation to drive by the dance studio the following night. He knew no good would come of it. It was Tuesday evening, a little after nine o’clock. As before, the drapes across the front windows were closed, which only made Jim more suspicious. On Thursdays, when she danced with the whole group, the curtains were pulled to the side, allowing everyone on the sidewalk and street to see the entire dance floor.
Why were they closed now? Why only when Roberto and Marilyn danced alone? Jim didn’t want to look like a pervert peeking through the cracks. So he sat across the street, two cars down, and looked at his digital clock. They should be done in about ten minutes, based on things he’d found out from Michele. Maybe he should wait here till the lights went out, see where she went after.
He wanted to but then changed his mind. What if she looked across the street and saw his car. Then she’d know he was spying on her. That might set things back to square one between them. He couldn’t bear that. Turning on the car, he looked both ways and headed out into the street.
Please Lord, let her go home alone tonight.
42
The following Saturday night, Jim did something different. He called Michele and asked if he could visit her church in Lakeland.
“You want to do what?”
He repeated the question. “I’d like to go to church with you and Allan tomorrow. I’ll drive over to Lakeland. Then take you guys out for lunch after. What time’s it start?”
“Ten, but . . . are you sure?”
“I’ve been wanting to visit your church for years. Now seems like a good time. This past week I resigned my membership at our old church. For the most part, you were right about the people there. It was time to move on.”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Michele said. “But sure, I’d be happy to have you come to our church. Only Allan won’t be with us.” She sounded a little annoyed.
“Oh? Why not?”
“Our church has another ten-day mission trip to Africa scheduled this week. Allan had agreed not to go, since it’s only two weeks till our wedding. One of the key guys got sick and had to bail out at the last minute. They asked Allan to step in, because he’d been there before and his passport was up to date. Of course, he instantly said yes . . . without talking to me.”
Jim liked Allan but did find him a bit impetuous and idealistic, especially about these mission trips. He was all about saving the world for Christ. Which, for the most part, Jim considered a good thing. But Allan wasn’t a single guy anymore. “So he’s left you to handle all the final wedding details on your own?”
“Pretty much,” she said. “But Mom’s been a great help. And I’m really glad he cares about things like this. It’s just not the best timing.”
“Well, I’ll keep you company at church and still take you out after. You pick the place.”
“Great, Dad, I’d like that.”
“And Michele, could you do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Could you bring along a wedding invitation and an envelope, and one of those little reception cards?”
“I guess. Who’s it for?”
“I’ll explain over lunch.”
Jim had a great experience at Michele’s church. A younger pastor than he was used to, a younger congregation on the whole, a nice building but no frills. He hadn’t been in church for several weeks, and the message was very encouraging. He especially enjoyed sitting next to Michele; that hadn’t happened in a church in years. Throughout the service, she kept checking on him. He’d give her a nod and an “I’m okay” smile.
The preacher finished his message, they sang a closing song, and as Jim and Michele made their way out the door, she had introduced him to over a dozen friends. All of them seemed very nice and all had asked her about Allan, how he was doing in Africa.
Once they got to the parking lot, Michele suggested they eat at a nearby Applebee’s. “If we go there now, we might beat the rush.”
Jim followed her in his car so he could head home right after. During the lunch, Jim worked hard to apply some of the new communication things Audrey had taught him. He never realized how hard it was to just sit there and listen, to be the one asking questions, the one taking an interest in the other person. She’d barely get two words out, and he’d feel this almost overpowering urge to interrupt her and either adjust something she’d said or talk about himself.
But he didn’t.
He also did his best to stifle every curious question he wanted to ask about Marilyn. Secretly, he hoped Michele would bring up the subject, but she never did. Instead whenever she talked about her mom it was regarding things Marilyn thought about Michele’s wedding or reception, which were less than two weeks away.
Michele finished talking about the reception plans. As she did, she thanked him three different times for being willing to do the father-daughter dance. Jim saw an opportunity to ask her about something he’d spoken about on the phone last night.
“Say, Michele, did you bring the wedding invitation I asked you about?”
“I did.” She reached for her purse. “And the little reception card. It’s right there in the middle,” she said, handing it to him.
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
“So . . . who you planning to invite?”
He wasn’t sure, but her look seemed more like concern than curiosity. “Somebody I don’t think you know.”
“Not from the old church, right? None of the crossed-off names?”
“No one from the old church.” He wasn’t sure any of them would come now even if they were invited.
“Then who?”
“It’s just . . . this woman I met.”
“What?”
He suddenly realized how that sounded. But he didn’t want to tell her who it was, or she’d know he was taking dance lessons. How else would he know someone like Audrey Windsor?
“Dad, you’re not bringing some woman you’re seeing to my wedding.”
“No, it’s nothing like that. I would never do that to you or your mother.”
“Then who is she?”
A month ago, Jim would have felt compelled to say, “It’s none of your business. I’m the one paying for this wedding.” Instead he said, “She’s this nice elderly lady I met about a month ago. She’s been very kind to me, and I wanted to thank her by inviting her to the wedding. But I won’t do it if you’re uncomfortable with it.”
“That sounds okay. Does Mom know her?”
“I think she does, but please, Michele. Don’t mention this to your mom. Would you promise me that?”
A puzzled look came over her face. “All right. I guess it’s no big deal.”
“It’s really not,” Jim said.
The following night was Jim’s last dance class with Audrey. He showed up on time. They small-talked as he put on his shoes, then they just danced. Audrey had lined up a number of great waltz songs, so they could just keep dancing one after the other. Jim was amazed again at her energy and stamina. By this point, it was fair to say he was thoroughly enjoying himself. A man set free from a lifelong fear. He couldn’t dance as well as he played golf, but he definitely had shed all his resistance and most of his inhibitions. Secretly, he wished there was a way to keep this going after tonight.
While they danced, Audrey shared with Jim her last marriage life lesson. As with the other lessons, she used the metaphor of dance. It was a simple idea. “Marriage and good dancing both require the same thing—teamwork,” she said. “This kind of dancing, anyway. T
he classic dances. Obviously, some people like to be out there on the floor doing their own thing, much more mindful of who’s watching them than being focused on their partner. But for classic dancing like we’re doing here, it takes a team.”
Jim wanted to add that he was no longer part of a team, but Audrey had gently corrected him every time he’d say something like that. “Have faith,” she’d say. “God hasn’t given up, so don’t you give up.”
As he stepped to the side and spun her gently around the corner of the room, she added, “For a team to be successful, you need to adopt a ‘No Losers Policy.’ It’s very simple. When you and Marilyn finally get back together and she starts talking to you again, you need to stop trying to get her to see your point of view all the time. Conversation is not about you winning or being right and her being wrong or vice versa. On a team, there’s no such thing as that. Either you both win or you both lose. The goal is to arrive there together, to come up with a solution you both feel happy about.”
This sounded nice, but Jim had some problems with it. They were at the other end of the room by now. “But Audrey, it’s pretty clear in the Bible . . . the husband is the head of the house. Sounds a little bit like you’re contradicting that.”
Audrey smiled as they spun around the corner again. “Is Jesus the head of the church?”
“Yes.”
“Did he wash his disciples’ feet at the Last Supper?”
“Yes. I guess he did.”
“What kind of a head does that? Here’s another question. Didn’t he say he came not to be served but to serve?”
“Yes.”
“You know that chapter in Ephesians where Paul talks about the husband being the head of his wife?”
Jim nodded.
“In my Bible,” Audrey said, “in that same passage, Paul also said a husband must love his wife like Christ loved the church . . . and gave himself up for her.”
Jim didn’t know what to say. Seems like she had him.
“That’s the kind of head of the house I think you’re supposed to be. You’re supposed to love Marilyn the same way you love yourself. That’s the kind of team any Christian woman wouldn’t mind being a part of. I know this firsthand. After Ted learned this, he started treating me like a queen.” Tears welled up in her eyes. She blinked them away as the song ended.
Fifteen minutes later, Jim was on the couch, changing out of his shoes. “I can’t believe this is our last lesson.”
“I’ve really enjoyed being your dance instructor,” she said. “Honestly, it’s been a pleasure.”
Jim stood up. “Audrey, you’ve been much more than my dance instructor. I’ve learned things from you that, well . . . I just wish I’d learned them years ago. Maybe Marilyn would still be here.”
“Don’t go there, Jim. You’re talking like it’s hopeless. I believe God can still turn this around.”
He talked like it was hopeless because that’s how he felt. Marilyn wasn’t an inch closer to coming home. She still refused to talk to him. “I appreciate that,” he said. “Here.” He took the invitation out of his pocket. “I know it’s short notice, but I’d love it if you could come to my daughter Michele’s wedding. It’s a week from Saturday.”
Audrey opened the invitation and read the front page. “I’ll have to check my calendar,” she said, looking up. “But if I can, I’ll certainly be there.”
Jim made his way to the door. She reached out her hand. Jim took it and drew her into a hug. “I think you’ve changed my life, Audrey. Because of you, I’m going to be dancing at a wedding for the first time in my life.” As he pulled back, he started choking up. “I actually said yes when Michele asked me to do the father-daughter dance. And I wasn’t afraid. In fact, I’m kind of looking forward to it.”
43
When Jim arrived home from work the next day, a familiar bright yellow ’68 Chevy Impala with a black vinyl top was parked in the driveway.
Uncle Henry.
Why didn’t he ever call first? He always just dropped by. It wasn’t like he lived in the neighborhood. As Jim pushed the garage door opener and pulled up beside him, he noticed Uncle Henry didn’t react. Jim looked at him more closely; he was sound asleep, his mouth wide open, head tilted to one side.
At least, Jim hoped he was asleep.
He slid the passenger window down and was relieved to hear Uncle Henry snoring. Jim smiled as he pulled his Audi into the garage. What a character. As he walked back toward Uncle Henry’s car, he became aware that he didn’t resent the sight of him like he usually did. His uncle was obviously there to check up on Jim, as usual. Standing there, staring at him, Jim remembered some of the things Uncle Henry had said the last time they spoke, right here in the driveway over a month ago.
Everything Uncle Henry had said back then was either true or had come true.
Jim wondered if his newfound friendship with Audrey Windsor had anything to do with this, but he felt a warmth inside looking at his uncle just now. “Uncle Henry,” he said, rubbing his shoulder.
“Huh?” His head moved slightly, and his eyes opened. “What?”
“It’s me. Jim. You’re in my driveway. You must’ve fallen asleep.”
Uncle Henry sat up then looked up. “Jim, there you are.”
“How long have you been here?”
“What time is it?”
“Almost five-thirty.”
“Then not long at all. Guess I dozed off. Got here at five-fifteen. I was coming back from a trip to Orlando, thought, how can I drive by my favorite nephew’s place and not stop by to say hello? I knew you always came home from work on time.”
He began to open the car door. Jim stepped aside. Uncle Henry held out his hand. Jim didn’t know why but he hugged him instead. “It’s good to see you, Uncle Henry.”
“Well,” he replied, stepping back from the hug. “How you holding up?”
“Okay, I guess. Marilyn’s still gone. It’s been more than a month now.”
“I’m sorry,” Henry said. “You doing okay? You seem . . . better somehow.”
Was he better? “Maybe it’s just the shock has worn off, and I’m getting used to it.”
“No, I don’t think that’s it. You seem calmer, on the inside.”
“I guess that’s possible. I took your advice, by the way.”
“What advice?”
“About humbling myself, getting some help.”
Uncle Henry leaned back against his car. “That so? Tell me about it.”
There was no way Jim was going to tell him about the dance lessons. “It’s a long story. But oddly enough, I met this elderly lady, and she’s given me a lot to think about. Her husband passed away, but they were married over fifty years.”
“I imagine she has lots of insight,” Henry said.
“Yeah, she does. I can see a lot of things I’ve done wrong with Marilyn.” Jim sighed. “A whole lot.”
“Wow,” Henry said.
“What?”
“The Jim I talked with a month ago would never have said something like that, or said it that way.”
“Maybe not. But I’m not sure it matters now.”
“Why?”
“Marilyn can’t see any change. She still won’t even talk to me.”
“I’m sorry, Jim. That’s gotta hurt.”
“Yeah.” Jim wanted to tell him about his fear that he was losing her to this dance instructor, but he didn’t say anything.
“But you know, you’re putting yourself in a good position to get all kinds of help from God now.”
“How so?”
“Are you starting to turn to him with your troubles or are you still keeping them all bottled up inside?”
“I’ve started praying more often,” he said. “And I’m reading my Bible again in the morning.”
“That helping?”
“I guess. I’m not as depressed,” Jim said. “Don’t feel as angry inside about all this.”
A surprised look came over Uncle H
enry’s face. “Jim, that’s huge.”
“What’s huge?”
“What you just said. Do you know how unusual that is for people going through the kind of trouble you’re having who are totally depressed all day and full of rage inside?”
“Yeah . . . no. Well, I guess.”
“They’re taking pills every day or drinking up a storm, anything to take the edge off.”
“I never really thought about it.”
“You’re experiencing God’s grace, Jim. That’s what’s going on here. God gives grace to the humble.” A big smile came over his face.
Jim had never thought of it that way, but it kind of made sense. Uncle Henry had never made sense before. Jim would have called this kind of conversation spiritual mumbo jumbo a month ago.
“What’s the matter?”
“I’m not sure how any of this progress helps me and Marilyn get back together.”
Uncle Henry walked over toward him, put his hand on his shoulder, and said, “Don’t be afraid, Jim. It’s gonna be all right. Somehow, I just know it. Your aunt and I pray for you guys every night. Even this talk we’re having now is an answer to prayer. God hasn’t given up on you, so don’t you give up.”
“Man, that’s crazy.”
“What?”
“That elderly woman I told you about, she says almost the exact same thing whenever I get down about this.”
“I like this lady.” Then Uncle Henry got a strange look on his face. His eyebrows drew close together. “I got an idea, and I think you should consider it.”
“What?” Jim was open to almost anything at this point.
“Start practicing what you want to say to Marilyn if you got the chance. Like an act of faith. I know she’s still not talking to you. But we’re hoping someday that’s going to change. You be ready when the time comes.”
“Practice?”
“Yeah,” Henry said. “Start writing it down. Ask God to help you, show you all the things you wished you could tell her, all the things you’re sorry for.”