“There!” Randy said, leaning forward to admire the necklace. “You look as beautiful in it as I knew you would.”
“Does—does—” She lifted watery eyes to his, her voice raw and shaky with emotion as she fingered the necklace. “Does this mean you’re staying?”
Randy looked into her eyes for some time before he answered. “No, Syl, that necklace is not only a Christmas present; it’s my going-away gift.” He glanced quickly at his watch, then said without preamble, “I—I’ll be leaving at midnight.”
Sylvia grabbed onto his arm, tears of humiliation and hurt blurring her vision. “No, Randy, no!”
His hand covered hers as her world tilted off its axis. “This week has been wonderful—I won’t deny it, but there’s no going back, Syl. I think we both know that. Our marriage has been on the skids for a long time. One week together, taking a walk down memory lane, could not resurrect it. Let’s face it. It’s dead and ready to be buried.”
“But, Randy, there’s more at stake here than you and me! What about our children?”
He blinked hard, then looked away, as if he didn’t want her to see how this thing, this giant that was tearing them apart, was affecting him more than he’d admit. “They’ll recover.”
“They won’t, Randy,” she said, sounding stronger and more rational than she had dreamed possible. “Don’t expect them to understand, because they won’t.”
“I’ll—I’ll have to deal with that. Try to make them understand. We’re not the first couple to divorce. Over fifty percent—”
“Don’t try to excuse this by quoting statistics! Do you think God will accept your statistics as an excuse when you stand before Him?” She grabbed onto his chin, forcing him to look at her. “You’re a Christian, Randy! You know this is displeasing to God!”
He shrugged but did not pull away. “Lots of things are displeasing to God, Syl. Not just divorce.”
She tried to find a snappy retort, some scripture she could quote to him to prove he was in the wrong, but her mind went blank.
Randy reached up and slowly pulled her hands from his face. “I’m sorry, Syl. Honest, I am. I’ve struggled with this thing for the past two years; now it’s time for action. I have to try my wings. I know it’ll take time, but I’m hoping, eventually, we can at least be civil to one another—for our children’s sake. After all, we managed to spend this week together.”
“Only because I thought there was hope for us.” Sylvia shot a quick glance at the clock. One minute to midnight.
“You promised, Syl. One week with you, and if I still felt the same way, you would give me the divorce—uncontested. You are going to keep your word, aren’t you?” he asked softly, as if he expected her to go into a rage and back out on her deal, maybe even take a swing at him.
She had no choice. She’d done her best to try to get Randy to change his mind, and despite the many times she thought he was being swayed during their week together, he was as determined as ever to go through with the divorce. To go back on her word now would only make her look foolish and like a liar. Stunned and shaken and assailed with emotion, she stood to her feet. “I won’t back out. I did give you my word, but I want you to remember one thing. I never wanted our marriage to end this way. I love you, Randy. I’ll always love you.”
He took her hand and held onto it tightly for a moment, then backed away.
“Not so fast. I still have fifteen seconds. I have one more request.”
His brows rose in question.
“Hold me, Randy. Kiss me good-bye like you used to when we were young and so much in love nothing else mattered.”
“But—”
“Time is getting away—”
He stepped forward awkwardly and pulled her into his embrace, his lips seeking hers. To her surprise, his kiss was warm, passionate, and lingering as he pulled her so close it took her breath away and their kiss deepened.
As the clock chimed midnight, he pulled away and walked out of her life.
Sylvia watched him go through that door and close it on twenty-five years of marriage. She wanted to die.
Twelve
The next few days were the saddest days Sylvia had ever spent as she closed herself up in the house, keeping the shades drawn to shut out the sunlight.
DeeDee and Aaron were still gone. Buck and Shonna had visiting relatives at their house and were only able to spend a little time with her. They had invited her to come to their home, but she did not feel up to it and certainly not up to putting on a happy face and visiting with strangers.
And, worst of all, the God she loved and trusted had not answered her prayers. He, too, had forsaken her, just like Randy. She had never felt so all alone. In less than two days, she devoured the two-pound box of chocolates Buck and Shonna had given her for Christmas. Good, nourishing food remained in the refrigerator. She had no interest in it whatsoever. Chocolate was the only thing that seemed to satisfy. She did not want to talk to anyone, not even Jen, and especially not God!
Television held no interest, not even the Sky Angel Christian channel with its twenty-four hours of music, preaching, and talk shows.
She leaped to the window at the sound of every car going down the street, sure it was Randy coming back to tell her the whole thing had been a mistake or a bad joke that went too far.
She grabbed up the phone each time it rang, hoping to hear his voice. But it was never Randy. She even screamed into the phone at the next telemarketer who called, threatening to report him if he ever called her again, which was definitely not her true nature.
Each day, she rushed to the mailbox hoping to find a letter from Randy or a card, even a simple note, but none ever came.
She wanted desperately to call him, to beg him to come back to her, to give her another chance to show him how much she loved him and wanted their marriage to succeed. She wanted to tell him she was even willing to forgive his infidelity and would never mention it to him again. But then, just the thought of Randy and that woman together made her want to throw up, and she knew how hard it would be to keep that promise.
But what if Randy had been telling her the truth about Chatalaine? That there really hadn’t been anything between them? As far as she knew, he had not made a single attempt to call the woman during the entire week. How would she have felt if Randy had falsely accused her of cheating on him, and she had been innocent? The thought struck horror to her heart. Could Randy have been telling the truth all along? Had he really simply been tired of being married to her as he had said? And wanted out? And there had never even been a relationship with Chatalaine?
No, she could not call him, not even to tell him she forgave him. A call from her, after he had finally made his move and walked out on her, would only anger him, especially if Chatalaine was there at the office with him. She glanced at the phone. It was so tempting to call, but she turned away.
Jen phoned several times, but Sylvia always ended their conversation as quickly as possible without being rude, leaving her friend to wonder how she really was. She had even refused Jen’s offer to pray for her. Why should anyone pray for her? God did not care about her. If He had, He would have brought Randy to his senses and healed their marriage. No, prayer doesn’t change anything, she told herself as she shoved her Bible into the drawer with plans to leave it there. No more daily Bible reading—no more praying for me. If God were real, He would have shown Himself and kept Randy here where he belonged.
Late the afternoon of the thirtieth of December, the doorbell rang, and Sylvia rushed to answer it.
“Are you Sylvia Benson?” the man standing at the door asked.
She nodded. “Yes, that’s me.”
“This is for you.” He handed her a plain-looking envelope and, without another word, hurried to his car and drove off.
She carried it into the house, tearing it open on the way. As she pulled the paper aside, she let out a loud gasp and collapsed onto the sofa, one hand resting on her forehead, her heart beating fitf
ully. These are the divorce papers Randy had said would be coming! After taking several restorative breaths to calm herself, she lifted the pack of papers and read the first few lines. “Oh, Randy, how could you? I never thought you would actually go through with it, especially this soon. Not until you’d had a chance to tell the children!” She tossed the papers aside, too weak and too wounded to read another word. “God,” she called out shaking her trembling fist. “Why—why have You forsaken me?”
She wandered about the house aimlessly, not knowing what to do or where to turn. Should she call Buck? Tell him about the divorce papers? What good would it do? There was nothing he could do to help her other than hold her hand to console her. He and Shonna had a house full of relatives. It would not be fair to her son and his wife to upset them at a time like this. Especially since Shonna was pregnant. She could just imagine the happiness and festivities going on at Buck’s house as he and Shonna shared their good news with her parents and aunts and uncles. No, she could not do anything to take away from their joy.
She skipped supper, barely remembering she should eat, and went to bed early, pulling the covers over her head, touching the pillow where, only a few days ago, Randy had laid his head. Just the thought of his never being there again sent her into wild hysterics of crying until her eyes were so red and swollen, she could barely open them.
The next morning, Jen phoned again, this time trying to talk Sylvia into coming to the New Year’s Eve service at the church. “You can’t lock yourself away like this, Sylvia. It’s not good for you.”
“Not good for me, Jen? What is good for me?” she spat into the phone. “I don’t think any of my church friends want me crying on their shoulders—the poor little woman whose husband left her for another woman because he didn’t want to be married to her anymore.”
“That’s not true, sweetie. Your church family cares about you. You are not the first person whose marriage ended in this way. You didn’t want your marriage to break up. You were the innocent partner.”
Sylvia grasped onto the phone tightly, her knuckles turning white. “You’re wrong about that, Jen. There was nothing innocent about me. Stupid, maybe, but not innocent. I see that now. Even if that woman hadn’t come along, our marriage wouldn’t have lasted. I—I put Randy last in my life. Behind our children, the church, my activities. I was never there when he needed me. It took our week together for me to realize that. If only I could go back and do things over.”
“Well,” Jen drawled out, as if not knowing what else to say, “I’m praying that you’ll come tonight. I’m sure you need God and the church more than you’re admitting. We all need Him, Sylvia. If you don’t want to have to talk to anyone, sneak in after the service starts and sit in back. You can even leave a few minutes before midnight, if you want. Just come, though. Start the New Year out right.”
“Don’t waste your time watching for me, because I probably won’t be there.”
As Sylvia hung up the phone and gazed about the room, Jen’s words drilled into her heart. I’m sure you need God and the church more than you’re admitting. She shrugged as she pulled her robe tighter about her and settled down in Randy’s chair to finish her cup of cold coffee, idly picking up the remote and hitting the On button.
“You may think no one loves you, no one cares what happens to you, but God cares,” a gray-haired man with a kind face was saying as the Sky Angel channel lit up the screen. “Oh, He isn’t some magical genie who snaps into being when you summon Him, eager to grant your every wish. However, He has a plan for you. A plan to prosper you and not harm you.”
Her ears perked up, and she began to listen in earnest. That’s the very verse Randy quoted!
“God has engraved you on the palms of His hands. His plan for you is perfect. Oh, at times it may seem like He’s not listening when you call out to Him. Even as a born-again Christian, you may feel praying is a useless thing. Sometimes, you may have doubts about His existence and even wonder if there is a God. Satan puts those doubts in your mind. You must not let him have the victory.”
Sylvia leaned forward with rapt attention.
“We who are Christians and claim His name must always remember,” the preacher continued, “God has His own timing for everything. Only in His appointed time will He bring things to pass. All we can do is wait upon Him, pray, and seek His will. If you are listening to my voice right now and you feel God has forsaken you, it’s time to give up your pity party and start living again. Seek God’s face. Confess your sins. Turn to Him. Trust Him. His plan is always best for you.”
Sylvia stared at the screen. It was as though the man was speaking directly to her. I have been having a pity party! It’s time I faced up to the fact that I have done everything I could to save our marriage and I failed. It’s time I turned it all over to God. My life. Randy’s life. If God cannot put things back together, no one can!
She glanced about the darkened room. Dozens of the little fluted white papers that separated the chocolates she had consumed lay scattered about the floor. Empty coffee cups adorned the coffee table. Tissues she had used to wipe at her eyes and blot her nose were strewn everywhere. Two days! She had two days to get things back in order before DeeDee and Aaron came back from their skiing trip. She could not let them come home to the house in such disarray. It was going to be bad enough to learn their father had left their mother and had served her with divorce papers.
Putting her sorrow and heartache aside, she flung open the drapes, lifted the blinds, gathered up the trash, cups, and dishes, putting them in their proper places. The kitchen was still a mess from the dirty dishes, pots, and pans she had left on the cabinet and in the sink the night Randy had left. Rolling up the sleeves on her robe, she dove into the mess with zest and soon had the kitchen looking the way she usually kept it—spotless. She ran the sweeper in the family room, leaving the tree standing in the corner, waiting for either Buck or Aaron to help her get it out of its stand and to the curb where the trash man would pick it up. She dusted and waxed until the whole downstairs shone.
Next, she hurried upstairs, changed the sheets on the bed in their bedroom, even scooting the bed to a different wall to give the room a renewed look.
By eight o’clock, after eating a bowl of soup, she was in the shower with plans to attend the New Year’s Eve service. The cool water falling onto her face from the showerhead was invigorating, and she knew, though life was going to be hard in the coming days, she would make it. She still had her health, a beautiful home, a terrific bunch of kids, her church friends, and, most importantly, God. Granted, she and God’s relationship was a bit strained, but in time, she knew He would soften her heart and the two of them would be on good terms again. She knew now—she had left God—He had not left her.
She slipped into the service shortly after ten o’clock, just after the song service had begun, and took a seat way in the back in an empty area under the balcony. Thankfully, the lights in the sanctuary were turned low since candles burned in the candelabra on either side of the pulpit. Her gaze went to the third row from the front on the left side of the sanctuary, the row where she and Randy sat when he wasn’t too busy at the paper to attend church. She would have to find another pew to sit in on Sunday mornings. That one held too many memories. Maybe she would just sit with Jen from now on. She always sat alone or with one of the widow women since her husband was always up on the platform preaching.
The song service was wonderful, as was the special music. It was as though all the worship team’s songs had been chosen with her and her needs in mind. When the pastor asked for those who wanted to give a testimony of what God had done for them this past year, at least a dozen people responded. As Sylvia listened to their words, her own problems seemed to fade. With some, the Lord had brought them through a life-threatening disease. With others, an injury—one that had robbed them of a way to support their families, but God had been faithful and supplied their needs. With one family, it was the loss of a child through
an accident. One couple’s marriage had been ripped apart by infidelity. However, through confession of sin, apologies, forgiveness, and God’s grace, the family had been reunited and was happier than ever. Each story was different, yet each ended with victory through the Lord Jesus Christ.
Sylvia didn’t even try to keep the tears from flowing as she listened. Their stories were like a soothing salve on her troubled mind. If they could make it, surely she could.
The pastor’s New Year’s message was exactly what she needed to hear as he spoke about putting old things aside and beginning things anew. He talked about restoration with God and renewing your joy in Jesus. He even encouraged making New Year’s resolutions, not in the way the world makes them, but as goals we should set to make us the people God would have us to be. Goals like daily Bible reading and prayer and serving Him.
A few minutes before midnight, the pastor invited anyone who wanted to pray the New Year in to come forward and kneel at the altar. Sylvia watched as a number of parishioners stood and moved forward. This was the time she had planned to duck out and leave. However, as she stood, to her surprise and dismay, her feet led her forward, and she found herself walking toward the altar. She no longer cared if anyone saw her tears or realized she would soon join the ranks of the divorced people who attended the church. All she had on her mind was getting to that altar, kneeling, asking God’s forgiveness for ever doubting Him, and turning her life over to Him.
When she reached the front, she immediately dropped to her knees, folding her hands and resting them on the curtained railing. With a broken and contrite heart, she began to pray silently, talking to God, spilling out her heart to Him in Jesus’ name.
As she prayed, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Without even needing to glance back, she knew it was Jen. She continued to pray, thankful for such a good friend. Remembering the pastor’s challenge, she let her tears of surrender flow down her cheeks, her heart filled with gratitude to God for the many blessings He’d given her throughout her life and for the blessings He’d promised in His Word to continue to pour upon her. I am not much, Father, and I have made so many mistakes, but take me, use me, mold me into whatever You want me to be.
Truly Yours Contemporary Collection December 2014 Page 47