Lord I Need A Hug
By Donna Christensen
lordineedahug.com
Copyright 2010 Donna Christensen.
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Published by Smashwords
Cover Design by Taylor Christensen.
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Except where otherwise indicated all Scripture quotations are taken from the New American Standard Bible®, Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.
Verses marked NIV are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by the International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. The “NIV” and “New International Version” trademarks are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by International Bible Society.
Verses marked KJV are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
Verses marked NKJV are taken from the New King James Version, Copyright © 1979, 1980, 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc., Publishers. Used by permission.
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Dedicated to... those whose pillows are wet from the tears that cannot be counted.
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Acknowledgements
God has blessed me with three wonderful children: Sharon, Phil, and Stacy. Their words of affirmation and love, followed by phone calls of encouragement, helped me to keep pressing on. I love them deeply.
I thank Joyce Dawes, my sister, best friend, and confidant, for taking full responsibility to care for our mom, an Alzheimer’s patient, when I was unable to help. I’m also thankful for my dad’s love, concern, and willingness to help me whenever there is a need.
God made a place for me in a Bible Study with Al and Marguarite Stille, Sharon and Preston Stover, Lamar and LaRose Storey, and Jody Ballard. They shared my pain, but also brought great joy and laughter back into my life during the years we met together.
Ken and Carol Van Sickle prayed and kept me accountable in the Word of God. John and Gene Hall, Steve and Kathy Holley, Mike and Martha Lynn Henshaw, and Dottie Britton made room for me on a plane, around their tables, and in their hearts.
Many cups of tea were shared with my special neighbor, Rosie Pierce, while other neighbors kept a watchful eye and helped shovel at least six feet of snow!
Dick and Mary Daum were the “wind behind my back” when I moved to North Carolina. Dick saw merit in my testimony; Mary read, reread, and kept moving me toward the world of publication.
From Germany, Lee and Diane Lustig continually called, prayed, and encouraged. Our hearts are bound together as we ask God to use this work to encourage others.
To those who are not individually named, know that your deeds of kindness never went unnoticed. I am thankful for all the hugs you gave me from God.
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Contents
Foreword
Prologue - Please, Come In!
Chapter 1 - I Just Wanted to Die!
Chapter 2 - Lord, Thank You for the Rose
Chapter 3 - I Remember Psalm 18
Chapter 4 - Joy Comes in the Morning
Chapter 5 - Valentine’s Day
Chapter 6 - You Have Already Won!
Chapter 7 - Cars, Floor Mats, and God
Chapter 8 - What Does It Mean to Be Real?
Chapter 9 - Christmas-A Treasured Memory!
Chapter 10 - I Need A Place
Chapter 11 - Just Hold Me, Lord
Chapter 12 - Come to the Garden Alone
Chapter 13 - Lord, I Need A Hug
Chapter 14 - I Encourage You
Chapter 15 - It’s Okay, Lord
Chapter 16 - Abba Father
Chapter 17 - Where Is Your Faith?
Chapter 18 - Sacrifice of Praise
Chapter 19 - A Modern Parable
Chapter 20 - There Is Significance in Each Day
Chapter 21 - Oh, No! Not My Lawnmower!
Chapter 22 - Rain
Chapter 23 - Don’t Walk on Thin Ice
Chapter 24 - New Construction
Chapter 25 - In the Throne Room with God
Chapter 26 - A Vessel Fit for a King
Chapter 27 - Forgiven
Chapter 28 - The Beautiful, Magnificent Rose
Chapter 29 - This Is Your Manassah!
Chapter 30 - A Prayer for the Father of My Children
Epilogue - I Have the Oil
Endnotes
Resources
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Foreword
As a marriage and family therapist, I often encourage my clients to journal their thoughts, feelings, and daily encounters. For those who have experienced significant losses, sometimes this effort produces narratives that lead to new beginnings. This tool allows them to begin framing positive thoughts and plans for their future, as opposed to dwelling on negatives, languishing in depression, or hopelessly entrapped by feelings of victimization.
Donna Christensen, a close family friend, journalized the deep pain and loss she experienced when her husband of thirty years abandoned her. As I began reading her story, I experienced many emotions. Tears of grief flowed freely as she described the pain. Yet as I traveled with her through the writ ten pages of her journey, I experienced joy as I read how she yielded herself to the care of our Lord Jesus Christ, how she looked to Him to meet her deepest need.
Donna’s story is one that I knew well. Eight years ago I received a long-distance phone call from her husband. He briefly explained that he was leaving her for another woman. He asked if I would look after her (their oldest daughter is my daughter-in-law). Immediately, my wife and I threw a few things in the car and drove several hours to their home. Donna and her children were experiencing the initial stages of this cri sis in their family. After a few days, we went back to our home and responsibilities with heavy hearts. We left behind a lonely, scared, bewildered, and brokenhearted woman whose life had previously been devoted to supporting her husband and rearing their three children in a Christian home. We did not anticipate the work that God was about to do in Donna’s life.
As the months and years slipped by, our visits were sporadic, but encouraging. Every time we sat around the dining room table, I was blessed to see how Donna’s faith was being strengthened. We enjoyed hearing her laugh as never before, and watched her confidence grow as she began to trust God with her future, no matter what lie ahead. During one of those visits, she graciously shared major portions of her work. I immediately recognized that her story could be an encouragement to thousands who find themselves in similar circumstances. I urged her to have it published as a ministry to others.
I have shared drafts of Donna’s journal with clients in my practice and they have all told me how it encouraged them. I recommend this book to Christian counselors, not only as a model of how to journal, but even more importantly, as a way to point their clients to Donna’s great God. Hers is a journal that shows us in day-to-day living the path that leads to the only One who can meet our deepest need.
Richard S. Daum, M.A.
Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist
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Prologue
Please, Come In!
I f you came to my home for a visit, I would welcome you at my front door with a big hug. Ushering you down a couple of steps that lead to the sunken family room, we could sit on the overstuffed sofa I’ve placed beneath the picture of an English lady tending her garden. It brightens the wall where our family portrait once hung. I would offer you a brimming cup of coffee or tea, hoping you would feel warm and welcomed in this room. As we politely chatted for the first few minutes, I’d probably point out my latest accomplishment, replacing hum-drum, sun-bleached tan curtains with those gardenia-white, tea-rose pink and heavenly blue window treatments. It still amazes me how that simple change helped make this one of my favorite rooms in the house when it used to be the one I avoided most.
Knowing that you’ve come for reasons other than light conversation, I would share a little about my world…before my life fell apart.
I fell in love with my high school sweetheart. We both entered college as freshmen, but I ended my studies after my sophomore year. We married during the Thanksgiving break of his junior year. After my husband’s graduation with a degree in engineering, we started our family…two precious daughters and a beloved son in the middle.
After ten years as an engineer and faithfully serving in local churches where we lived, my husband shared that God had burdened his heart to seek full-time ministry. I agreed to support him in whatever he chose to do even though I felt totally inadequate to be the wife of a minister. But I also feared God enough that I didn’t want to say, “No, God! You can’t have my husband!”
Not long after our decision was made to explore avenues of ministry, the small church we were attending was in need of an associate pastor. Knowing about our recent decision, the search committee asked my husband to fill this new position. We felt that this was God’s affirmation that He had led us to this place. With our three children, eight, six, and two, my husband and I said good-bye to our small three-bedroom bungalow and set out on an unknown journey called ministry.
Eighteen months into this new calling, the former pastor resigned. The church extended this position to my husband. With additional seminary classes still ahead, our home was in constant motion. We juggled our family around breakfast meetings, board meetings, staff meetings and prayer meetings. From Bible studies to banquets, rehearsal dinners to weddings, and seminary home work squeezed late into the nights, the commitments were endless as the congregation of two hundred began to grow.
A vibrant singles and youth ministry developed, along with an often overlooked deaf ministry. The children’s ministry was busting at the seams. It was exciting to be a part of this church community. Within ten years, large audiences attended the annual Christmas and Easter pageants sung by a hundred voice choir accompanied by a full orchestra. In our eighteenth year, architectural plans for a third building program were underway for the two thousand parishioners who now worshiped there.
Meetings were constantly scheduled to meet the demands. Fatigue and frustration began to emerge at home. Our lives seemed to pass in the night. Yet, seeing how the ministry was impacting the lives of so many made it all seem worthwhile…until one November afternoon when my husband of thirty years was seen in the arms of someone else. When I heard, my heart ripped in two. I wanted to die. Frantic attempts were made to hold us together, but after only a few days he left, turning his back on everything he believed and the family he once loved.
Now, as our visit continued and I’d refreshed your drink, excitement would build in my voice when I’d begin to share what God has been doing and continues to do in my life. I’m learning what He means when He bids, “Call to Me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things which you do not know” (Jeremiah 33:3 NKJV).
I would want to tell you about all the special things that have happened here in this very room that avoided for a while. For in here is where I began to inhale the fragrance of beautiful worship music, clinging to the message of each song as it ministered to my heart. I’ve taken notes in here as I listened to God’s men instruct me in His Word. In this room, I’ve sought Him much like a starving woman looks for bread; as one dying of thirst clutches his throat in search for water; or as that desperate woman in the Bible inched her body along a dusty road reaching out as she cried, “If I may touch His garment, I shall be whole” (Matthew 9:2 1). I don’t even know her name...but Jesus did. He spoke to her just as tenderly as He spoke to me: “Daughter, be of good comfort, your faith has made you whole” (Matthew 9:22 KJV).
I hope that you will treat this book as though you and I were sitting together on my couch sipping a cup of tea or coffee beneath the picture of the lady tending her garden. Perhaps you’re walking through some very difficult times right now and that is why this book was offered to you. If you will stay, I would like to share how God carefully nurtured and tended to my heart. Even though I don’t know your name or that of the desperate woman, Jesus knows. No matter how difficult your situation may be right now, He is the only One who can enable you to enjoy life again. My prayer is that you will be encouraged as you read selected portions from my journal, giving evidence that He truly felt my tug at the hem of His garment and is in the process of making me whole.
God wants you to reach for Him as well. He wants to comfort and strengthen you so that you can press on. Allow Him to write on your heart as well as in your journal the “great and mighty things” He is waiting to do for you.
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Chapter One
I Just Want to Die!
T he morning sun shone brightly through the windows in the family room on that cold brisk January morning. Usually, the rays would add warmth to the room, but not this particular morning. I felt as though I was standing in the midst of a cold and frightening holocaust. Words, hurled like rocks at windows, shattered my world into a million pieces when my husband confirmed what I had found concealed in a brown manila envelope. “I am in love with her and she feels the same way about me.”
No words could ever describe the intense pain and shock of those moments. In a heap on the floor, my pleas did not change his mind. I was completely helpless when he walked away.
“God!” I sobbed, “please help me! I can’t bear this! Please, just let me die!”
In shock, I immediately called our children. Two were married and lived several states away. All three came as quickly as they could. Nervously groping the phone, I then called the church asking to speak to one of the staff. They had to know. Within a few minutes, friends and church family converged at my doorstep. My eyes, darkened by shadows of unspeakable pain and utter disbelief, met theirs. After we embraced, we stood in shocked silence, gazing at one another like mourners at a wake.
I couldn’t hold back the tears when all my children finally arrived. Our hearts broke as we held each other. My son made several attempts to confront his dad—but to no avail. The cars of well-meaning friends lined the street in front of the house. My neighbors thought there had been a tragic death. Days ran into sleepless nights and when I had to tell my children goodbye, it felt as if salt were being poured into my already mangled wound.
Everyone left. Everyone. I was completely alone for the first time ever in my life. That was a hard place to be. Alone. Completely. I sat motionlessly at my kitchen table, exhausted, numb, and grieving. The second-hand on the kitchen clock punctuated this totally desolate barren time.
Several praise tapes were conveniently within reach. I picked one out and stuck it into the new tape deck my husband had given me a few months earlier at a surprise birthday party planned by friends. As the music played, I thought about that particular Sunday following my party when this gift had been anxiously anchored under the kitchen cabinet. “Why did he want to install it so quickly?” I had asked myself, knowing that this wasn’t the kind of chore he liked to do. But that afternoon it seemed as though he couldn’t hook it up fast enough.
At the time, I had thought he had done it to please me. Then it hit me! He was trying to get it done before leaving! The words on the tape continued to proclaim that God’s grace was sufficient as I cried inconsolably after I’d realized how blind I had been to what had been going on. When I stopped to catch my breath, unsolicited, unexpected, unholy thoughts brazenly forced their way in my mind.
“Well now, look at what your God has allowed. You say you believe in Him? You say you love Him? Look at what believing and loving God has brought you! So here is your reward for all that straight and narrow living. If you had done something really bad, then perhaps this would be payback, but you never did anything to deserve this! You say there is a God? If there is, then where was He when all of this was going on? If He is supposed to be so good, why didn’t He stop this from happening?”
Slam! Two points!
Over and over, the god of this world opened fire with a barrage of vicious accusations. I crumbled, unable to defend even one. Then within minutes I swung from a state of total desolation to cynicism, asking God, “What does that mean, ‘Your grace is sufficient for me’?1 I’ve heard that all my life and now look at me! If Your grace is so sufficient, then it has to mean that somehow You can pick up the pieces of my broken life and put me back together again!” Then an unpremeditated remark venomously rolled out of my mouth. “Look what loving You cost me!”
Like a child caught for saying a bad word, I put my hand over my mouth wishing I had never uttered those words. For God lovingly penetrated my numbed heart by responding, “My child, look what loving you cost Me,”2 as the song continued to play.
I helplessly confessed, “Lord, I can’t pick up my shattered pieces and put them back together. I just can’t!”
I was frightfully aware of my powerlessness to do anything. Trying to gain composure, I lifted my head from the kitchen table ready to barter with my heavenly Father.
“If I read my Bible everyday, pray, and trust You, even though that will be hard, will You help me? God, can You give me a reason to want to live? Will I ever have that abundant life You’ve promised?3 Will I ever experience joy in my life again? If I do, it will have to come from You. But if Your supernatural power doesn’t hold me together and joy doesn’t come, then You are not real and You have nothing to offer me. I will keep a journal as proof. You write the pages. And remember Lord, I can’t pretend very well!”
With great precision, God chiseled these promises into my heart of stone. “Donna, My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in your weakness. I hear your cries.4 I am here with you. I will never leave you nor forsake you.5 It is from Me that you will draw your strength so that you might live. I’ve promised that you will have an abundant life, and that kind of life is found only in Me.6 Donna, I want you to believe Me. I want you to trust Me.”7
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Chapter Two
Lord, Thank You for the Rose
The weeks following that war in the kitchen seemed to pass in slow motion. I struggled to do the simplest chores. On one particular day going to the grocery store seemed an insurmountable task, especially with no appetite. The after math left me feeling as though my insides had been mangled, making it difficult to eat.
As I pushed the grocery cart past specialty items that had once been on my list, a queasy feeling started in the pit of my stomach. I had no reason to buy them anymore. Happy faces advertising decadent ice creams or pizzas we once enjoyed together seemed a sickening joke; oatmeal was my staple. This queasiness then turned to fear of being recognized as I made my way through the store. Carefully, I glanced around each corner before starting down the aisles.
“Oh Lord, please don’t let me run into anyone I know. I’ve seen the way they look at me. They’ll just automatically don an expression of pity. I can’t bear to hear another well-intentioned ‘Are you doing okay?’ or ‘I’m praying for you.”’
Relieved that I had made it through the check-out without encountering a familiar face, I pushed the cart next to the curb and loaded the bags of fruit, cereal, and frozen vegetables. On the way home, I stopped by the local gas station to fill up. While pumping gas, the attendant’s friend pulled behind me. After they chatted for a couple of minutes, I overheard the attendant say to his friend, “Do you have any left?”
“A few,” he replied.
“Well, give this lady one.”
So his friend walked over to his car then handed me a beautiful long-stemmed rose. My eyes brimmed with tears. I thanked him as I drove away. Lovelier than what I could have imagined coming out of the back seat of an old beat up car, I admired the beauty of this perfectly shaped magenta rose. Its fragrance was an added surprise. On my way home, an unshakable thought occurred. This isn’t a coincidence. This is from God!
“Lord, is this really from You? Is this how You’re going to let me know You are real?”
In the few moments it took to reach my driveway, God had gently affirmed in my heart. “Yes, Donna, this rose is from Me. It’s a small expression of My love for you. I want you to know that I’m going to take care of you. Let Me be your Husband now.”8
Later in the day I had second thoughts. “Was that rose truly from God or did I just want it to be? Did God really speak to my heart about being my Husband, or did I make it up? Would God do more things like this, or was I so desperate that I’d believe anything?”
Getting ready for bed, I propped pillows behind my back and picked up my journal from the floor. Gazing at that precious rose I’d specifically placed on my nightstand, I decided to believe that God had given it to me. The ink flowed as I recounted how God had presented it. My last entry that night …, “Thank You for this special touch in my life today, Lord. Thank you for the rose,” This thought brought a welcomed and peaceful sleep that night.
“How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God! How great is the sum of them! If I should count them, they would be more than the sand. When I awake, I am still with You” (Psalm 139:17, 18 NKJV).
*****
Chapter Three
I Remember Psalm 18
I '’ve got to sleep,” I admonished myself during the middle of another sleepless night. “I can’t depend on these sleeping pills.” Staring at the ceiling, I knew I would have to come to grips with my husband’s opinion of me. Trash! Someone he crumbled up and threw away.
While restlessly tossing from one side of the bed to the other I asked myself, “What did I do that was so wrong? Was I too boring? Too predictable? Should I have planned exciting get-aways? What if I had been smarter …discussed current events more frequently, read more books? Would he have respected me more?”
Unable to get comfortable, I plumped up my pillow that had dried from last night’s tears. Still more abrasive questions rubbed my emotions. Did he resent that I kept to a budget? Was I too cautious? He had been my life! I sacrificed everything for him, even my “rights” to have more time with him. He kept such a busy schedule. Ministry demanded so much time, and I had been understanding. Were those the reasons, or were there others? If there were, he never told me.
From the depths of my heart I knew I had never purposely set out to dishonor, disgrace or discredit my husband. I had no hidden agenda to destroy our marriage. A trail of deceitfulness had never been present before in our relationship. I had truly loved and cherished him and I honestly believed that he had once loved me. Yet I had no answers.
Succumbing to this sleepless night, I reached for the lamp beside my bed. Its light shone on my open Bible. It seemed as though a thousand nights had passed since I’d last picked it up. A bookmark lay in the eighteenth chapter of Psalms. My eyes were immediately drawn to these already highlighted verses:
For I have kept the ways of the Lord,
And I have not wickedly departed from my God.
For all His ordinances were before me,
And I did not put away His statutes from me.
I was also blameless with Him,
And I kept myself from my iniquity.
Therefore the Lord has recompensed me according to my righteousness,
According to the cleanness of my hands in His eyes
(Psalm 18:21-24 NASB).
Tears blurred the words making it difficult to read. They were a soothing ointment that brought relief from those searing questions.
“Lord,” I whispered, “Thank You for telling me that You know that I didn’t wickedly depart from You. I didn’t purposely set out to do something so wrong as to cause my marriage to fail. And like the psalmist, ‘I did not put away Your statutes from me.’”
My heart melted as I read, “I was also blameless with Him.” In those sacred moments God told me through His written Word that He saw me as blameless…above reproach. With gratitude I lingered there, grasping the thought that this was how God felt about me.
And the next verse, “Therefore the Lord has recompensed me according to my righteousness; according to the cleanness of my hands in His eyes...”
“Oh Lord, of all the verses I could have randomly selected tonight, this is what You wanted me to know. Thank You for seeing me as having clean hands in Your eyes. Even if no one else will ever know, thank You for telling me that You know. No matter what I may have done, whether or not I am to blame, tonight I ask You to forgive me.”
With my finger I touched every word as I read them over and over again then wrote them in my journal, knowing that I would need to revisit this page many, many times.
*****
Chapter Four
Joy Comes in the Morning
J oy! Would I ever experience it again? When the psalmist penned Psalm 30:5, “Weeping may last for the night...” I wondered what circumstances gave birth to his song? How long did he weep before he could write the next line? As I lay motionlessly on my side of a partially undisturbed bed, I wondered if a flow of tears continually fell from the psalmist’s eyes too as he slept under the stars. And during his night of weeping, were his steps as lethargic and methodical as mine when I descended the stairs to make the morning coffee and listen to tapes I’d heard the night before? Music must have soothed his spirit as it did mine. Far better than listening to the news, it helped fill the morning’s deafening quietness.
There was no one to say “good morning.” No one offered to pour my coffee. No one sent me off with “have a nice day,” nor cared whether or not I did. I guess the psalmist had no one either.
And the next line…”But a shout of joy comes in the morning.” Did the psalmist place more emphasis on shouting, or was joy accentuated? Did he sense a feeling of complete delight, a gladness of heart, or pure exaltation? If so, then without question it must have been supernaturally from God!
On this cold February morning, I cradled my coffee cup to warm my hands while looking at the few pansies in the planter on my deck that had defied this winter’s freeze. They had already survived two ice storms and a deep snow, yet their colorful faces turned toward me as if to present themselves as a small bouquet. I wanted so much to believe that God had kept those pansies for this moment. First arose and now this bouquet of winter pansies.
“Is this You, God? Is this another small way to let me know You care? I appreciate it, but I can’t help but ask why do You do something so small as to present me with flowers instead of doing something BIG like changing my husband’s heart and bringing him back home?”
Still, I listened as Steve Green sang how God can make kings out of shepherds in the “Hidden Valleys” because He is “God and God Alone.” Damaris Carbaugh promised that I was “Never Alone.” Choking back the tears, I softly sang along with the more familiar songs that followed but with no confidence that what I heard could change my wounded heart.
There was no praise, no joy, only weeping. Perhaps one day there will be joy, but not today.
Weeping may last for the night, But a shout of joy comes in the morning. (Psalm 30:5b NASB).
*****
Chapter Five
Valentine’s Day
V alentine’s Day. The tears wouldn’t stop rolling down my face this morning. No amount of make-up could stop the tears nor hide the redness around my eyes.
“Everyone I know has someone, God! It’s so hard to face this day. There will be no card, no rose, nothing special for me. Jesus, You must have endured days like this. As You loved others, no one under stood Your heart either, and few responded to Your love.”
I gave up trying to hide behind cosmetics. I walked out of the bathroom, cupped my hands over one of the four posters at the end of my bed, and I gazed at Katherine Brown’s pencil sketch of Jesus holding a lamb. I wondered how the lamb must have felt as Jesus held him. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and believed that I was this lamb. With His head near mine, I could almost hear Him whisper...
“I know.”9
“I care.”10
“I’m here.”11
If I were the lamb, perhaps Jesus would gently stroke my head and assure me of His love. “Look at Me, Donna. Don’t you know that I love you? I think about you all the time.12 Allow Me to tell you how very, very special you are, how deeply My love is felt for you. If you’ll listen, I’ll tell you the story again of how I saw you,13 chose you,14 and pursued you15 because I LOVE YOU!16
“I don’t want you to ever grow weary of hearing My love story. If you were with someone special, you would crave quiet intimate moments like this. You wouldn’t want anything or anyone to interrupt. Perhaps music would fill the room as you shared your innermost feelings with that special someone. Why can’t we have such moments, Donna? Let Me be that special Someone in your life!”
Then the Lord reminded me, “Remember, I have loved you with an everlasting love17 not just this Valentine’s Day, but every day. I will never abandon you—today, tomorrow, or the next.18 I will always remain faithful to you.”19
I tucked away these precious promises and headed for work. As usual, Jim, one of the five attorneys in the office, bounded through the front door. His steps were always heavy but buoyant. Everyone knew when Jim arrived! This morning I overheard him say to the receptionist as he walked through the door, “Here, Kristin, these are for you.” He stopped by Judy’s office. “Here you go, Judy!” From where he was standing, I saw roses cradled in his arms. My station was next. “Here’s a couple of roses for you, Donna.” Station by station he handed out all the roses as he headed toward his office.
It was everything I could do to contain the tears. I couldn’t believe it! The first thing that popped in my mind was my time with God earlier that morning:
“I know.”
“I care.”
“I’m here.”
From the time I was on my knees at home to the time I got to work, God had orchestrated an incredible plan. Jim was prompted to stop by a store and purchase a dozen red roses. No, this couldn’t be just another coincidence. It couldn’t. Even the buzz around the office was that Jim had never done anything like that before.
“Oh God! Thank you for not forgetting me!” I whispered as I filled the flower vase with water. “Jim doesn’t know it, but You had him bring me roses! I do have Someone! I have You!”
*****
Chapter Six
You Have Already Won!
I had first contacted an attorney for advice six months ago. Now he was calling to alert me that my petition for financial support had been filed in the circuit court.
Mounds of paperwork were necessary to defend my reasons for requesting support. For months I felt as though I was hacking my way through a dark and impenetrable jungle. False innuendoes and relentless questions had to be addressed. And lists! They were endless. A list of living expenses was required to substantiate my needs. A list of projected monthly expenses, then annual expenses had to be explained. The value of my life had been reduced to cold incalculable lists! A total stranger would be looking for the slightest misrepresentation to challenge or deny. Every penny was subject to rebuttal. I felt exposed to public scrutiny. No question was overlooked. Nothing was sacred anymore.
I was trying to rely upon God’s Word to prepare me for this battle. In the Old Testament book of Judges, chapter seven, God taught Gideon to trust Him when the odds were against him. God requested Gideon to go to the edge of the enemy’s camp and there he would hear what was rumored among the troops on the other side. Then God added, “…if you are afraid to go down, go with Purah, your servant, down to the camp.”
I was relieved when I read in verse eleven, “…so he went with Purah, his servant, down to the camp.”
God encouraged me with Gideon because I, too, was afraid. I was afraid to appear in court, afraid for what would happen there. Would I win? Would my needs be met? I worried about the person who was to sit in judgment. After all, this was just another domestic case. Having heard thousands already, would he be indifferent or insensitive to my needs at the hearing?
I purposely had set aside all day Saturday to pray before Friday’s court date. I wanted to be so close to God, so completely immersed in His love and strength that I wouldn’t feel this sharp pain of worthlessness. Sometimes it hurts to live. This was one of those moments. I had to fight the one I loved for monetary support.
“Lord, I’m struggling. You tell me that You are good, that Your mercies are everlasting and your truth endures to all generations.20 You say that You will not withhold any good thing.21 I just don’t understand. Is going to court good? Lord, this is so hard! Am I one whose heart You saw and said, ‘She will not turn back?’ Did You say from heaven that I will stand, therefore You gave me a heavier load?
“Lord, I do want to stand, but these last few months have been exhausting and emotionally trying! This furnace is so hot! Am I refined enough, Lord? Have I passed the test? Do You see Your face reflected in me yet?
“From The Pursuit of God, A. W. Tozer said dying is not easy. I want to die to all my rights, Lord, but I’m not sure I can. And now I go to court because I am no longer wanted. My value has been bartered between attorneys. I feel as though I am nothing but an unwanted monetary expense. I am treated as cheap merchandise in the eyes of the one who once considered me priceless. An intrusion in the life of the one who once loved me.”
Before the court date my counselor had advised, “Don’t think that a monetary award of the court is the deciding factor as to whether you win or lose. A secular judicial system may or may not be fair. If it is not, then God will provide for you in other ways. The one who seeks the Lord is the one who wins the battle. Donna, you have already won!” 22
My legs were shaking as I walked toward the courthouse. I ran my finger down the alphabetical list of approximately forty names in the enclosed glass docket. Latecomers frantically scurried in front of the roster, not wanting to be late for their hearing. “Look at all those names,” I thought, “all the broken lives represented by this list alone. And there will be another list on Monday!”
My attorney and I waited by the doors with others who had cases to be heard. When the clerk opened them, I thought of the doors that opened when I walked down the aisle on my wedding day. I had never thought I’d walk through these doors. Never!
“Lord, thirty years ago my husband and I declared our love for You and each other. We vowed that we would honor and cherish one another, not abandoned and neglect the other. And now, Lord, here we are for the entire world to see. We, who are one in Your eyes, who are called by Your name, are now a public mockery of Your name! I can’t make my husband keep his covenant to me. Lord, this is not what I wanted! I can’t change his heart! Please protect me as I enter this battlefield. There’s more at stake than I can comprehend.”
I prayed silently, “God, are You here?” wondering whether my question rebounded off judicial walls or was heard by my Father’s attentive ear.
The time for my hearing was scheduled last, therefore no one else was in the courtroom when we were called.
God was there!23
“God, are You here?” I prayed again. The time allowed before a judge in such a case was no more than thirty minutes.
This judge sat on the bench for over an hour.
God was there!
“God, are You here?” I still questioned.
“Better start praying,” my attorney advised, knowing how this judge typically ruled. “She is known to be indecisive. We might not get a judgment on this matter for weeks.”
But as soon as the arguments were heard, the gavel fell. No waiting. No deliberations. Judgment was made on my behalf. Support was granted. My requested needs would be met. I wouldn’t have to move from our house. I could stay close to friends who encouraged and prayed for me.
God was there! Indeed!
Even though emotionally fatigued, I couldn’t go to bed until I penned this verse, using my name, in my journal:
“Now the same night it came about that the Lord said to Donna, just as He had said to Gideon, ‘Arise, go down against the camp, for I have given it into your hands. But if you are afraid to go down, go with your servant (attorney), down to the camp, and you will hear what they say; and afterward your hands will be strengthened that you may go down against the camp.’ So she went down with her servant (attorney). And it came about when Donna heard the account, she bowed in worship.”
*****
Chapter Seven
Cars, Floor Mats, and God
I needed to buy a car. Though I’d participated in the selection of cars before, I had never actually purchased one alone. I worried about haggling over prices, partly because of a terrible experience my husband and I had had a few years earlier. A flood of relief rushed over me when my friend Gary came to mind. He was my hairdresser’s husband who had been in the car business for years. I decided to ask him for help.
“Yes,” Gary agreed, “I’d be happy to go with you. As a matter of fact, I know a guy who sells Hondas. He’ll be fair.” So we decided on a day and time to meet at the dealership.
“Lord, You know I don’t have a clue about buying a car,” I confessed while backing out of the driveway on my way to meet Gary. “I’ve heard stories about salesmen who gouge prices and pressure you into buying. Lord, please protect me. Give me wisdom to do the right thing.”
After a quick introduction at the dealership, Gary’s friend told me about a special sale going on. “All the cars you’ll see today are new; but they are last year’s model. The newest models will be delivered in a few days so we have to move these out as quickly as possible. Let’s take one out to see what you think.”
I got behind the wheel and we pulled out of the lot. After several minutes into the test-drive, I was momentarily taken off guard when the salesman, with genuine sincerity, said, “Gary told me a little about your situation. I want to help you as much as possible.”
Instantly, my concern about being ripped off completely vanished. Then, totally out of the blue, I blurted out to this perfect stranger my deep concern for my husband. “He is emotionally in trouble” I insisted. “I know he’s made a terribly dreadful mistake, but I’ve been begging God to bring him back home! I wish he knew my heart! I wish he knew that I would do anything to help him!”
“I’m so sorry,” he responded sympathetically.
Thankful for a diversion, at his suggestion I checked out the new bells and whistles as we headed back to the lot.
“What got into me back there?” I thought. I’m embarrassed just thinking about it!”
I looked at a couple other cars with a few more frills along with a higher price tag, but settled on the mint green car I’d driven. With that, the negotiations started. Because the color was new that year, the dealer knocked off a few dollars. He also deducted the maximum trade-in allowance for my old station wagon. After the paperwork was completed, I was handed a new set of keys. The only glitch was the floor mats. This car didn’t have them. They were out of stock and had to be ordered. The salesman asked if I could stop by the next week to pick them up. That worked out well, because I had planned to go see my dad that next weekend. I would pass right by there after picking up my sister at the airport on our way to visit our dad.
As I drove away in my new car, I thanked God for Gary and his friend as I caught a glimpse of them in the rear view mirror waving goodbye.
Later that evening, I called Gary to thank him for helping me. “No problem. By the way, I wanted to let you know that by making your sale, our friend won the bonus for the month! It really helped.”
“How neat! Maybe God blessed him for being so kind to me!” I replied.
“There’s something else that might interest you,” Gary added. “After you drove away, my friend confessed that he had messed up his life big time by getting involved with another woman. I don’t know what you said, but whatever it was certainly made an impact!” He said that he needed to go call his wife.
Astounded, I put the receiver down as we ended our conversation and backed up against the wall. “Lord, that’s why I was so bold! You put those words in my mouth!”
The next week, I hurriedly picked up my sister at the airport and headed out of town. We exited the interstate and pulled into the dealership to pick up the mats.
The receptionist informed me that my salesman was on the lot with another customer. “I’ll page him, Ms. Christensen. You can wait in his office.”
As I walked toward his cubicle, another woman was sitting in a chair next to his desk.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I didn’t know anyone was here.”
“Mrs. Christensen?” I heard faintly. “Is your name Donna?”
“Yes.”
Then the tears.
Could this be his wife? I wondered silently.
“I just want to thank you for what you shared with my husband last week. I’m here to have lunch with him for the first time in two months. We’re trying to put back the pieces.”
With that we both embraced and cried unashamedly, knowing the pain we shared.
Cars and floor mats! Who would have thought God would have used floor mats to give me a glimpse of His omniscience!
“God, only You could have planned this!”
With unbelievable exuberance, I got back in the car and exclaimed to my sister as we drove out, “Joy, you’re not going to believe this!”
She was my captive audience to the whole story for the next couple of hours!
“But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellence of the power may be of God and not of us”
(II Corinthians 4:7 NKJV).
*****
Chapter Eight
What Does It Mean to Be Real?
A wedding invitation from a good friend was so appreciated. I clung to the smallest semblance of social acceptance. It felt good to be invited, to be treated normally rather than pitied. As I stood in the midst of a crowded reception, mingling among friends and acquaintances, I kept bumping into the same rhetorical question conditioned for a mechanical, uncomplicated response.
“How are you doing?” rolled out like cubes from an ice tray—cold and impersonal, waiting for my “Just fine,” response.
Instead, I replied to one who asked, “I’m doing okay right now, hanging in there only because God is giving me the strength to do so. Thank you so much for asking.”
I must have shocked the inquirer. He simply gave a polite nod, looking a little uncomfortable, then graciously backed away with no reply. Suddenly I felt conspicuous and embarrassed, wishing I’d used the “just fine” rhetoric.
“Why is it so hard to share with others?” I asked myself while aimlessly wandering among the guests. “Is there anyone who isn’t afraid to be real—to rip off his mask? What does it mean to be real?”
Tossing around that same question during my Monday morning commute, I had uninterrupted time to sift for answers … until a bright unexpected sunrise temporarily blinded me as I turned a corner. Immediately I pulled down the visor and stretched my neck to block the sun from my eyes.
“How convenient,” I thought, still thinking about that encounter at the wedding. Perhaps people who don’t want to be real should walk around with visors. Just a flip of the wrist and reality can be conveniently blocked out!
After ordering a cup of coffee at the deli in my building, I pushed the elevator button to the second floor. Friday’s unfinished tasks were stacked on my desk. The monthly bank statement needed to be reconciled, telephone messages demanded a response, and several copy requests had to be at the printer before noon. Time was of essence as our office geared up for another national conference. Volunteers assisted from time to time, and according to my calendar a volunteer was scheduled to come in around ten.
When he arrived, we stood at the doorway to the work room with several hundred letters neatly stacked on the table needing to be stuffed and post marked. Slightly amused at the task, he chuckled, “Well, it’s better than sitting at home waiting for the phone to ring!”
After a couple more amicable exchanges, he shared why he had time on his hands. His former job had been eliminated in a corporate downsizing and he was waiting for responses from over two hundred resumes. I asked how he was coping during this difficult time. Surprisingly, he responded with more than the usual “just fine” rhetoric.
“I’ve struggled with losing my self-worth,” he stated openly. “I’ve had to fight negative thoughts constantly like, ‘Why don’t you run your car off this bridge.’ Or, ‘You’re never going to find a job with the seniority and pay you once had. You’re too old now and the job market has passed you by.”’
“I know how fierce battles can be,” I concurred, “but I’m learning to sift for truth and not believe the lies.”
I couldn’t help but ask, “Has anyone been helping you or encouraging you during this time?”
“No” he answered. “During the fifteen months of unemployment, only three people have called or extended a friendly handshake.” Then he quickly defended the reasons why. “I’ve told only a few people. It’s too uncomfortable for me to admit that I have a need.” Then he voluntarily added, You know the John Wayne mentality, real men don’t cry!”
His remark sparked my curiosity even more. I risked being overindulgent by asking, “How is your wife handling this? Does she have friends who encourage or pray with her?”
“Not really. She purposely keeps herself busy. Right now she’s taking a couple of classes at the community college. That helps to block it out of her mind. We don’t discuss it very much because I don’t want to let her know how I really feel. It would cause her to worry.”
He ended our chat by picking up the first of many letters as I ran back to my office to pick up a phone page.
On my commute home, I couldn’t shake this morning’s conversation. Why is it so hard to let friends know you hurt? What kept this man from sharing his pain with his wife and others, from wanting to be real?
As soon as I got home, I searched my husband’s library for an old children’s book once used as a sermon illustration. The Velveteen Rabbit was tucked in among books with much deeper theological truths. But this endearing little tale, read to thousands of children while cradled in parent’s arms, imparted more than a lighthearted story about Rabbit. The adults who read between the lines discovered that it costs to be real. According to old Skin Horse, there’s pain when your hair is being loved off. Loose joints and shabbiness are part of the deal.
Is that what it takes to be real? The rub? Do difficult circumstances rub off one’s pretentious veneer, exposing the real person? Even though it can be excruciatingly painful and uncomfortable, is this how God brings out inner beauty?
I know God loves me, but there has been a lot of pain. I know that my husband’s abandonment was not God’s perfect will, but His permissive will. This didn’t take Him by surprise as it did me. But what about the other things that rubbed? My mom’s Alzheimer’s disease, my dad’s unexpected surgery, my sister’s cancer scare, processing my children’s pain? Do they help me to become real, exposing my worn-off places? Does each situation make me looser in the joints so that I will openly and unashamedly tell others His story through me?
A rub. I scheduled a flight alone to see my first grandchild. Love mixed with pain as I cradled this little miracle in my arms. My dreams for this grandchild and others to come were dashed against a stone. While rocking Matt to sleep one night, I whispered, “There isn’t going to be Grandma and Granddad to enjoy you together, precious little one. When you visit, there’s only going to be me.”
Another rub. My mom had been afflicted by the dreaded Alzheimer’s disease. I didn’t know how severe it had become until her long-distance call began the unraveling. “I just sold my house,” she told me over the phone. That might have been okay with some, but I was shocked because she hadn’t bought another house! She had nowhere to go except to move in with either my sister or me. Immediately I called her realtor who was relieved because she didn’t know how to contact me. “It sold within a few days,” she confirmed. “Your mom needs to be out of her house by the end of next month.”
“How could she do this now with only two months before Stacy’s wedding! I don’t have time right now to deal with her needs!”
My emotions were running rampant. Deep down I was frightened because my mom’s irrational decisions were confirming earlier suspicions. I knew she didn’t understand, and that added to my frustration. So I had to ask my boss for more time off to simplify her years of accumulated stuff and oversee her long-distanced move to my sister in Texas. After her belongings were loaded on the truck, Mom stayed with me for a few days before I put her on the plane. The events had been frustrating. I was exhausted.
Wedding frenzy had also begun. A dress form in the living room modeled the wedding gown awaiting more beads. Sharon’s maid-of-honor dress lacked a finished hem. Gifts were stacked in every unused space. Most of the jobs had been delegated and I felt that for the first time I could take a deep breath …until my air conditioner broke down during a heat wave at the end of August.
Another rub. “No! This can’t happen! Not now!”
With that I slumped down in a kitchen chair with my head in my hands and cried from total exhaustion. After a few minutes I remembered that Stan, one of the staff pastors, had offered to help me with any major problem since he once had been an apartment manager.
“Sue and I will be right over,” was his heart-warming reply to my call.
After finding nothing wrong with the unit, he observed that the emergency switch was off. That was why the air hadn’t clicked on. We agreed that my mom must have turned it off when she was here those few days. I was thankful that it was such a minor thing.
Afterward, I offered them a glass of iced tea as we sat around the kitchen table waiting for the air to cool. They asked how I was doing. Feeling that they really cared, it took me a few minutes to answer because of the lump in my throat. I shared how all of the recent happenings had taken their toll. I felt emotionally drained, wiped out and pulled in every direction.
They listened. They understood. Then they began to share how God had been faithful to them during some of their bleakest moments. Their story began at the place where Stan had been diagnosed with a rare environmental illness causing his family to have to move to a place where there was little pollution–a cabin in the mountains of Northern California. Because Stan couldn’t inhale synthetics of any kind, they had to dress in clothes made of cotton and line the walls with aluminum foil. Shortly after their move, their three children got sick and they ended up having to sleep in their car because of an unseasonably drop in temperature and no heat in the cabin yet. That combination of the children’s sickness and no heat brought them to the brink of total discouragement.
Then Sue and Stan shared that when they were at their lowest ebb, close friends willing to shower with a special soap for Stan’s benefit drove up the mountain bringing food and much-appreciated gifts. Overwhelmed by their love and generosity, Stan told me that after they left, he stood near the edge of the mountain remembering a promise God had given him before the move.
“Yet [Abraham] did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised” (Romans 4:20-21 NIV).
“Those three years were very difficult for us,” Stan admitted. “As I turned the pages of my Bible with gloved hands through holes in a Plexiglas box, God taught me lessons I’ve never forgotten. Now we know the meaning of ‘what He promised, He will do.’ We were encouraged and our faith was strengthened.”
We then joined hands and they prayed while a steady stream of tears persisted down my cheeks.
“I believe there is a point,” Sue empathized, “when God does not allow it to get any worse. Donna, in my heart, I don’t believe God will allow any more.” With that, we hugged each other and they left.
Pulling myself together, I had much to think about. Not one word of regret came from their mouths. Hearing about Stan and Sue’s rubbings helped me to keep going. I felt as though I had been picked up one more time, brushed off one more time, and sent on my way one more time, all because of the love and vulnerability my friends shared with me that day.
So Abraham did not waver in unbelief but was strengthened in his faith. Do I dare put my name there? Do I dare say, Donna did not waver in unbelief, but was strengthened in her faith?
“Lord, I did waver! Did I fail the test?”
“No,” I just had to believe. God knew I was wavering. He also knew I needed encouragement, so He sent Stan and Sue. This was just another way for me to see how He worked.
“Thank you for being real” I wrote in my note. “Thanks for not withholding the truly tough times. I needed to hear how God provided for you in your bleakest moments.”
They were not embarrassed by their loose joints or concerned if their shabbiness was exposed. It encouraged me to know that in the midst of all their trials, they looked to God and He provided. And that is what He did for me.
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