Friday, August 28, 2015

Quickies: From The “I Wept That I Had No Shoes” Files

     Have you ever felt that you have troubles? Weights on your body, mind, or soul that test you to your breaking point? A near irrepressible need to cry out to all the world for relief, succor, or at least some sympathy?

     Most of us have, I’d warrant. Time was, we were supposed to be strong. We were supposed to remember always that there are people who’ve got it a lot worse. If you’re an American, that’s almost provably true.

     I was feeling sorry for myself over a particular problem of mine – no, you aren’t going to hear about it – just a couple of hours ago. Then I started chatting with a relatively recent friend, a lovely, intelligent, multitalented, exceedingly charitable and personable young woman still on the sweet side of forty.

     She’s been married for sixteen years.
     Her job causes her nearly constant pain.
     She goes “home” exhausted, six days a week.
     The quote marks are because “home” is her in-laws’ house.
     Another young couple lives there, too: six adults and two minor kids in a three-bedroom house.
     She has a young son – 7 years old -- whom she loves dearly.
     She gets no help caring for him from anyone.
     Her husband hates his job as a “music therapist.”
     He comes home full of bitterness and recriminations every night.
     Yet that’s the field he trained for, and he’s good for nothing else.
     He takes it out by spending recklessly; that’s why they live with his parents.
     And he’s refused for nearly a year to touch his beautiful, sweet natured, endlessly tolerant and forgiving wife – my friend.

     It got to be too much for her today. She had to talk to someone about it. I was the someone.

     I’ve heard things worse than that, of course. I’ve heard about episodes of marital brutality as bad as you can imagine. Yet I can’t help but be appalled that such injustice should be the lot of a sweet, dutiful, innocent young woman.

     I know, I know: Only she can solve her problems. Not that I wouldn’t love to lend a hand if it were possible.

     Thank God for all your blessings.
     Cherish those whom you love.
     Do your best to be kind.
     Find joy in each hour.
     And pray.


neal said...

I was angry. I am ashamed. I broke my back and continue to do so, to prove some worth.
Everyone dislikes me, some actively hate. But I made this promise to the Holy.

He did say it was beyond temporal, and beyond the worlds of money.

i guess it really is deep inside, and not what it looks like.

I was warned. I threw it away just for to keep what should not be gambled.

Stubborn, homeless, and the Glory. little things.

Grandpa said...

In "The Pursuit of God", Tozer writes one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.... "To have found God, but still pursue Him, is the soul's paradox of love. Scorned by the 'too easily satisfied religionist, but embraced by the children of the burning heart.' "
The reference is to the strangers on the road to Emmaus, at the end of Luke's Gospel..."did our hearts not burn within us, when He opened the Scriptures to us?"
Brother Fran.... I do not know how anyone in today's world gets through a single moment without the hope only God can provide....
I pray for you.... I pray for us all.

Reg T said...

"Music therapist"? Truly a liberal (arts) degree/occupation. And yet, he was obviously ill-suited even for such a frivolous course of study.

I have a difficult time imagining her being worse off on her own, even with a child to support.

pdwalker said...

I think I know who you're talking about.

If her husband hates his bloody job so much, maybe he should switch careers, or find a new niche for himself.

And if he's not touched her in a year, then he's getting it from somewhere else, or his testosterone levels are lower than hers and if so, he needs medical help.

Excuse me for a moment while I count my many blessings and remind myself to be thankful for all that.