Gone crazy, goin’ out of my mind,
I’ve asked myself the reasons at least a thousand times.
Goin’ up and down this hallway, tryin’ to leave the pain behind,
Ever since you left me, I’ve been gone, gone, gone,
I’ve been gone.
All kinds of people were listening to lyrics like these and drawing all kinds of conclusions as to what was going on in our private lives. As for me, I couldn’t listen to country music on the radio, Alan’s songs or anyone else’s. They hurt too much.
Meanwhile, the tabloids were having a field day. All kinds of things were printed, most of which were not true. Sometimes friends warned me when they saw something in print about our breakup, so I would hear it from them rather than the media. But I never saw or read any of these sensational stories. It was just too painful.
For the first time in my life, I realized how celebrities must feel when the paparazzi prey on them, hoping to get a picture or information they can sell to the rag magazines. Though I never saw people following me, and no one shoved cameras in my face, Alan saw strange cars parked on the street in front of his rental house after dark. He never knew when someone would pop out of the shadows, flashing a camera.
Before, it had never bothered me for photographers to take pictures of us, or for fans to ask for Alan’s autograph. It was usually in a public situation, and it was part of the celebrity lifestyle. Alan had always appreciated the opportunity to thank supporters for liking his music and making his success possible. He never forgot who had put him in the spotlight in the first place.
But now people’s tactics and intentions were quite different. These weren’t fans. These were “professionals” out to make a buck, invading our private lives with the intention of exploiting our personal heartache. They cared nothing for the real story. Nor could they have appreciated the actual realities that Alan and I were going through.
Ejecting Old Tapes
The counseling was over. We had laid out our relationship on the table, and the counselors had analyzed it all, like doctors probing a big pile of intestines or something. Now it was time to put some of that analysis into action. We were moving from the theoretical to the practical. We knew what was wrong with our old patterns; all we had to do was to create new, healthy habits of interacting with each other.
Easier said than done.
As you know, one of the biggest areas for me had to do with my own self-confidence and comfort in my own skin. I had lots of old tapes playing in my head, with destructive themes like “I’m not good enough” . . . “I’m not Alan’s soul mate” . . . “I’ll never be the right one for him” . . . “He’ll never be happy with me” . . . “I’m so dependent, I could never make it without Alan.”
These bad tapes had to be ejected, thrown away, and replaced with new themes that I downloaded from my relationship with God. Through the words of Scripture, He told me, “Denise, I’ve loved you with an everlasting love, and I will build you up” . . . “I have great plans for you, and I am doing a new thing to give you new freedoms in your marriage” . . .“My grace is sufficient for you—you have everything you need to make it, for I am strong even when you are weak, and I am with you always!”2
I understood how my dependency on Alan had played such a big role in our breakup, and I had seen my confidence increase over the months of our separation. I’d begun to reestablish my own identity apart from him.
For one, friends and acquaintances had been careful not to bring up Alan when I was around. Their conversations had centered more on me and the girls. Thus I found myself responding as an individual, rather than as the junior partner of a power couple.
Similarly, questions from employees and workers regarding our house and extensive grounds were now directed to me since Alan was not around. I found myself in the role of property manager—a role that had always been Alan’s. As I continued in that function, I realized that I was becoming a better decision maker, and that I was much more confident in the choices I made.
But again, could I really change the way I had always related to Alan? I was certainly enlightened as to healthy and unhealthy ways of interacting with a spouse, but would I really be able to put this nice, new knowledge into everyday action?
I would only find out the answer after Alan came home.
Home Again
He lived in our log cabin down by the river for a week or two, and then moved back into our home the first week of May. Tears welled up in my eyes as he told the children that he was here to stay.
“Girls, I want you to know something,” he said. “Fifty years from now, when you are grown and have families of your own, your mama and I will still be together. You don’t need to worry.
We’ll be right here, sitting in rocking chairs on the front porch together.”
After spending a few moments calculating what in the world Alan and I would look and feel like at ages eighty-eight and ninety, rocking on our porch, I knew that nothing could have made the girls happier than hearing those words.No more rental house, no more time split between parents. Mattie, Ali, and Dani could grow up in the security of knowing their parents were working out their relationship, day by day, and would be together for them as long as God gave us on this earth.
The following Sunday was Mother’s Day. The girls and I went to church, but Alan chose to stay home. I assumed that he was just too physically and emotionally wrung out to go with us.
But when we returned home from the worship service, the house was full of the aromas of roast beef, mashed potatoes, fresh green beans and corn, buttery yeast rolls, and warm banana pudding. Alan ushered us into the dining room. He had set the table with our best china and crystal, linen napkins, white candles, and an enormous floral arrangement.
“Happy Mother’s Day!” he shouted. The older girls laughed and hugged us both, and baby Dani smiled a baby smile.
I was overwhelmed. Alan’s thoughtfulness in wanting to make this day special was just one of the many things he did for me in the weeks and months to come—physical acts of kindness to show me the intentions of his heart. He had made a real commitment to change. He was putting the past behind and making our marriage the best that it could be. He had been away long enough to realize that restoring our relationship was worth the effort that it would require.
Today as I look back on our baby steps in rebuilding our marriage, I sometimes think what our lives would be like if we hadn’t started over. I realize that not all situations are like ours, and that there are situations where divorce is warranted. But for us,we knew that God was calling us back to our marriage vows, and that He was giving us a fresh start.
* * *
WE KNEW THAT GOD WAS CALLING US BACK TO OUR MARRIAGE VOWS, AND THAT HE WAS GIVING US A FRESH START.
* * *
In order to take it, though, we had to do a lot of hard things. I’ve already mentioned how difficult it was to take off old, well-worn habits that were quite comfortable, and to replace them with new ways of interacting with God and each other. It’s hard to get out of old ruts. But we were both committed to doing just that, and it became perversely fun, in a way, to respond to each other in new and different ways.
For example, if we were planning to go out, Alan would ask, “Where do you want to go, Denise? What do you want to do?”
“Oh, Alan, it really doesn’t matter, whatever you want to do.”
“No!” Alan would groan. “Don’t tell me we went through all that therapy for nothing! What do you really want to do?”
Then we’d rewind the conversation—“?od ot tnaw uoy od tahW ?esineD, og ot tnaw uoy od erehW”—and start over.
“Sorry,” I’d say.“Let’s see, tonight I really want to go eat some sushi!”
As you may know from his music, Alan prefers his sushi Southern-fried, so that suggestion wouldn’t go over very well.
But the point is, as hard as it was to actually change our decades-long way of relating—particularly on lit
tle things—it was also kind of fun to make light of our past dysfunctions. Humor helped us work together to start new habits.
Replacing old habits with new ones was tough. But the absolutely toughest thing we had to do was also the most important: we had to forgive.
Chapter 18
A HARD ROAD
Oh, for the wonderful love He has promised,
Promised for you and for me.
Though we have sinned He has mercy and pardon,
Pardon for you and for me.
Will L. Thompson, “Softly and Tenderly”
. . . life was changed, disassembled, rearranged
We came together, fell apart
And broke each other’s hearts
Remember when
Remember when the sound of little feet
was the music
We danced to week to week
Brought back the love, we found trust
Vowed we’d never give it up
Remember when
Alan Jackson, “Remember When”
In order to have a true fresh start, we had to rebuild trust. For, of course, the worst blow to our marriage had not been bad habits or codependency or my indecisiveness. The deepest wound had been the destruction of trust because of betrayal in our relationship. Alan had not been faithful. And he had covered it up.
By this point, as ugly and painful as it was, he had confessed everything. And as hard as the truth was for me to accept, it was the missing piece of the puzzle. I had felt for a while that something was different, of course, but now Alan put it all together for me. Now I knew why, after all these years, he had wanted to actually separate and go our different ways.
It felt so strange and awful. On one hand he was so familiar to me, the man he’d always been . . . but on the other hand it was like he was a different person altogether. I would look at his face, his eyes, his hands, and think, How could the man I’d known and loved all these years, with whom I’d had three children, have had this hidden part of his life I knew nothing about?
I realize, of course, that infidelity happens every day. Plenty of people, celebrities and otherwise, break their marriage vows. But, like most spouses, I never thought that it could happen to me. I was so full of anger, shame, and pain that I hardly knew which way to turn.
But God had entered into this sad story. He had brought me a long way. He was working in Alan as well, bringing him back to Himself and also to me. And as Alan confessed everything, it was a huge relief for him. It felt so freeing to no longer have secrets he was trying to hide. It was actually liberating to confess his wrongdoings, and to ask for my forgiveness.
I was thankful, in a really painful way, that he had brought it all out in the open. I appreciated that he was courageous enough to tell all and ask for my pardon. After all, if he wasn’t repentant, we weren’t going to get anywhere in rebuilding our relationship. By “repentant,” I don’t mean guilty and miserable. Real repentance is actually freeing; it lifts the burden of guilt. And it’s shown not just by words, but by deeds.
* * *
WOULD I SMOOTH THINGS OVER IN A SUPERFICIAL WAY, TAKING HIM BACK AND ACTING AS IF ALL WAS WELL, BUT STILL HOLDING ON TO ALAN’S WRONGS LIKE ACES UP MY SLEEVE, TO BE WHIPPED OUT WHENEVER I NEEDED TO TRUMP HIM?
* * *
Thankfully, as I’ll show in a moment, Alan made real changes in behavior that demonstrated his changes in convictions.
But the first step lay with me, and it was a huge challenge.
Would I really forgive? Could I forgive? Or would I smooth things over in a superficial way, taking him back and acting as if all was well, but still holding on to Alan’s wrongs like aces up my sleeve, to be whipped out whenever I needed to trump him?
No Denial
My lifelong habit of denial was not going to work in this situation. I couldn’t just cover things over and forge ahead, acting like nothing had happened. In order for me to be set free, as well as Alan, I had to clearly acknowledge the wrongs he’d done. And then if I wanted to go forward, I had to forgive. There was no escaping it.
I’ve talked with so many women who can relate to this dilemma. Even if your marriage hasn’t gone through a time like this, all of us have been wronged in one way or another. We’ve all been hurt by others, whether our spouses, friends, relatives, acquaintances, grown children, employers, whomever. But when we hold on to bitterness and resentment, it doesn’t really injure the ones who wronged us. It hurts us. And it can absolutely destroy us.
There’s no one-size-fits-all kind of answer or formula for forgiveness. For each of us, the struggle will be individual. But what I found, in the long run, was that forgiveness was the key to real freedom in my life. It unlocked all kinds of new blessings.
Of course when I found myself confronted with the need to forgive Alan, I couldn’t see ahead to the good things that forgiveness would bring in my future. Nor could I relate to what other people had done or not done in similar situations.
All I knew was that if I was really going to do everything that I could do to make my marriage work, I had to forgive completely. I felt anxious and pained by the whole process, but I also felt a strong sense of God’s presence. I really knew that He was always faithful, even if human relationships weren’t. I read in the New Testament, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”1
I desperately wanted that supernatural peace of God!
So I tried to do what those verses said, step by step. I prayed, pouring out my concerns to God. I thanked Him for the fact that I could even have a relationship with Him. I asked Him to do things in my heart that I just could not do on my own. I asked Him to erase pictures in my mind that tortured me. I asked Him to free me from rage. And I prayed that He would help me to be the loving, forgiving wife that I wanted to be.
I knew I could not be that person through my own good intentions or willpower. I wasn’t strong enough. But God was strong enough to do miracles in me, starting with giving me His peace right in the midst of the pain of Alan’s betrayal. And He kept the miracles coming, giving me what I needed to be able to forgive the wrongs done to me.
Tenderized
Oddly enough, the more I prayed, the more tender my hard heart became. Something very strange started to happen. I was struck by the wrongs I had done and motivated to humbly ask Alan for forgiveness for how I had hurt him.
This was way beyond my normal way of thinking. It happened because God brought a familiar part of Scripture to life for me in a new way. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said that if you even look at someone lustfully, you have committed adultery in your heart.
I’d heard that all my life, but I’d never felt convicted about it before. Now, though, I realized that if I’d felt any moral superiority over Alan because I’d never actually committed adultery, Christ’s words certainly nixed that. I, too, had been tempted. During my flying career and other times, men had shown all kinds of interest in me. I’d had opportunities to respond to that attention. I’d never given in. But I’d had thoughts and daydreams that failed Christ’s tough standard.
Of course there’s a big difference in the consequences of actual adultery versus impurity or unfaithfulness in one’s thought life. But my ability to forgive Alan had a lot to do with realizing that I, too, was in need of forgiveness for a wandering heart and a lack of focused love and communication in my marriage.
As I thought about all this, parts of the Bible came alive for me like never before. For example, I love the story in the New Testament of the woman who came to see Jesus one night when He was having dinner at the home of a religious leader. This woman had “lived a sinful life,”2 the Bible says. She was determined to see Jesus, and she got into the courtyard where He was dining. She washed His feet with her tears, wiped them with her hair, and put perfume on them.
/> That all sounds quite strange to us. But in Jesus’ day, since people wore sandals, and their feet became quite dusty from the unpaved roads, house servants would normally wash guests’ feet, using a basin of water, and wipe them with a clean towel.
But this woman did much more. She kissed Jesus’ feet. She wet them with her tears. She dried them with her long hair and anointed them with perfume. She gave everything she had to show Him how sorry she was for her former lifestyle . . . and how much she loved Jesus.
The religious leaders were absolutely horrified. This was not proper.
So Jesus told them a story. Say that you have two people who have borrowed money, He said. One owes a million dollars to a moneylender; the other owes a hundred. Neither one can pay him back. So the lender forgives both debts, canceling them out.
Which person will love the lender more? Jesus asks.
The one whose debt was bigger and was forgiven more, says the host.
Exactly, says Jesus. Those who are forgiven a lot love a lot. “But he who has been forgiven little loves little.”3
As I thought about what forgiveness really meant in my own life, I realized that the same was true for me. If I could begin to see how big and revolting my sins really were in God’s eyes, and yet how He had wiped out every single one of them, then I’d have a big love for Him.
The Psalms told me that God’s love for me was bigger than I could imagine, “as high as the heavens are above the earth,” and that He had removed my sins “as far as the east is from the west.”4 It’s absolutely enormous: I couldn’t fathom how high God’s love was, nor how wide was His pardon of my sins.
But out of the overflowing gratitude of realizing that I’d been totally forgiven, I could follow Jesus’ lead and forgive the debts of others who owed me. “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you,” Ephesians 4:32 says.
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