Friday, December 28, 2012

July 9, 2011...

is the day my marriage died. I know because I went looking today for the email that ended it:

My precious Sweetheart,

I already know your response to this letter, which is perhaps why I have chosen to write it rather than discuss the matter face-to-face.

Amid all this discussion of the future and Jerusalem, and what it is we are meant to do together I have begun to experience a deep longing to bear you a child.

I tell myself it is a silly wish, selfish. I know the difficulties involved. I had assured myself that I will have grandchildren to fill the desire. I have asked the Lord to remove it from my heart. But still the thoughts will not leave me.

I understand your position clearly, and I will respect your feelings and wishes. But by the slim possibility that you should ever change your mind please know that it would be a great honor and a blessing to be the mother of one of your children and would bring me the deepest fulfillment.

All my love,

It was meant to be a love letter. It was a love letter. It is still. 

But he constantly reminds me how much this damaged him, how I hurt him with this email, how I betrayed him and destroyed his trust. He tells me that in the end I am to blame. I had to find my original words to assure myself that I'd spoken only with love and kindness, and that I hadn't somehow warranted his complete withdrawal, coldness, and the year and a half since of measured distance and angry abuse.

He is working now to control his anger towards me, but he still holds this over my head. It's like he's trying to get back at me.

He would never admit to that, and I don't know how do deal with his continued insistence that in expressing such a tender, righteous desire that I somehow abused him.

This is proving to be a difficult day.

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