The Rundown, Part 9

"You have not loved me well," I told J. We were parked at the end of a dirt road next to the remains of a cotton field. The landscape was barren, and I felt just as desolate inside.

"I think about that 19 year old girl that I was when we married. She was so innocent, so trusting, so vulnerable with you....." I was trying not to cry, and failing miserably.

"I wish you had cherished her. I wish you had respected her. I wish you had been noble and gentle and a protector of all that was sacred," I turned to look at him, a portrait of pain with my unkempt hair, red-rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks. "Instead, you used her."

"From the very beginning, you were dishonest. You couldn't see me as someone with real feelings, but as something to fill your needs. You brought this ugliness into our lives, into our bed, into the same room as our sleeping children. You violated our home and sullied everything I held dear."

J didn't interrupt. He simply sat there as I took a moment to sob angrily and mop at my face with a napkin. Finally, I took a shuddering breath and stared at the horizon.

"I do not regret marrying you, but all of..... this.... makes me feel like I would be a fool for staying. You've wounded me far more deeply than you could have if you'd punched me in the face, and yet if you were beating me instead of betraying me, wouldn't I be long gone by now?

"I don't know how to move past this. I just know that I'm in pain-- the most excruciating pain I've ever felt-- and I wish that you had the ability to love me. I wish you could see and feel in a way that would make you never want to cause this kind of destruction again."

For a long time, I cried, not registering the words he said or his arms around me as he tried to comfort me.

Gradually, I realized J was crying. I watched as he began to transform before my eyes-- it was as if every burden he'd handed me over the years was piled back onto his own shoulders. I could see the weight of it, the agony as he began to comprehend just how horrible his choices had made me feel. We wept, both overcome with grief.

I don't know how to describe what happened next. It was as if a conduit to heaven opened up, and God wiped all tears away. We could feel the weight lifted from our shoulders, the pain removed from our hearts. The air was thick with the spirit, and we could hardly speak for fear of breaking the reverence.

Just moments ago, I could not have conceived of ever feeling safe with J again, and yet as the sun set and I sat in awe of the miracle that had just taken place, I held J's face in my hands and whispered, "This is how I wanted to start our marriage; as two flawed people with lots of mistakes behind us and lots of mistakes in front of us, but completely united. So, we're starting again. I'm pretending that this is the beginning, and I'm saying Yes, I will marry you."

I also told him that after this experience and the events of the last year, I'd changed. I could't and wouldn't go back to where we once were.

"Never again," he agreed. "I can't take back the past, but I can promise never to do it to you in the future."

We drove home, both solemn and joyful. We'd come back from the brink of disaster and had a new beginning.

{image by Mark Mabry}