That Sunday

Wednesday evening the Bishop told me I'd tried long enough and it was time to let Sheldon go.  That night for the first time I asked Heavenly Father what he wanted me to do instead of assuming I knew what was right for us.  Nothing changed for three days, but on Saturday Sheldon agreed to come with me to the adult session of Stake Conference.  I was surprised, and elated.

One of the hardest things about Sheldon admitting all the things he had done was him telling me he didn't believe in the church anymore.  He had tried on and off for over ten years to change, so I guess it was understandable that he finally decided it would be easier to just say he didn't believe rather than feel guilty for not living the commandments.  But I knew without the Lord's help he would not have the strength to change. 

When Sheldon agreed to go to the Saturday evening session of Stake Conference I was filled with hope. He was still trying to decide if he wanted a divorce, and he said he had also been praying to know what Heavenly Father wanted him to do.  Every talk that evening was amazing, and I was in tears by the end of the meeting, sure that Sheldon couldn't miss feeling the spirit and would know that God was trying to help.  I was wrong.  Sheldon was completely unmoved. 

"I didn't feel anything," he told me as soon as we got into the car.  "In fact, the talks were all pretty boring."

I stared at him in unbelief.  How could we both have heard the same talks but had such different experiences? 

The following morning Sheldon decided not to go with us to Stake conference.  I wasn't surprised, but I was disappointed.  I took the kids by myself and tried to concentrate on the talks, but it was difficult.   Stephen was only one-and-a-half, and he was squirmy.  Finally I picked him up and stood off to the side, rocking him slowly while I listened. 

Listening to our Stake President I wondered for the umpteenth time why I couldn't have a husband like that? What had I done wrong? Suddenly, almost as if a light went on inside my head, I thought, "If Sheldon does decide to divorce me, I might get married again, and I might get to have a righteous husband."  It was such a amazing thought.  It was almost like being handed a gift, like the way I used to feel on Christmas Eve, anticipating the wonderful morning to come.   After all the years of making the best of my marriage, after years of trying to look for the good and hoping that one day things would change, suddenly the future was opened up before me and it was possible that all of my dreams might come true after all.  It was amazing!

I went home that day feeling lighter than I had in four months.  Not that I wanted Sheldon to leave, but suddenly it didn't feel like it would be the end of the world if he did.

Sheldon was waiting for me with an announcement.

"I've made  a decision,"  he told me while the kids were in their bedrooms taking off their Sunday clothes.  "I'm going to move out.  I talked to the secretary at work this morning.  She has an extra room in her basement that I can stay in until I find a place of my own, so I packed my stuff while you were gone and  I'm going to leave as soon as we eat dinner."

I might have been feeling optimistic that morning, but I forgot all my thoughts as Sheldon talked.  All my instincts went back to trying to hold onto him, but I couldn't.  After lunch Sheldon took the kids into the front room, sat them down on the couch, and told them he was moving away. 

They were so little that for the most part I don't think they really comprehended what he was saying.  Linnea was going on nine, Holly was seven, Russell six, Alyssa nearly three, and Stephen one-and-a-half.  They may have grasped that Sheldon was going away, but why and for how long?  He assured them that he still loved them, then took his suitcase and walked out our front door.

How empty that room felt after he left.  We were all crying, and I didn't know what to do except continue the same way we always did.  So I got the kids in the car and we went to visit my family, then Sheldon's.  Everyone was wonderfully supportive and tried to make us feel better, but everything was so wrong.

It was late evening before I finally took the kids home.  “How can I do this?” I wondered as I opened the back door and ushered the kids in. 

"Get your pajamas on, then we'll have some cookies and read for awhile," I told them as I put my purse down on the kitchen counter.  I didn't want to deal with putting the kids to bed, I didn't want to face the future, but I knew they had to get up for school the next morning so we had to stay in our routine. 

Just then the phone range.  It was one of my home teachers, calling to see how we were doing and if he could make an appointment to come visit.  How sweet he was when I explained what had just happened, and how good it felt to hear his expressions of sorrow and support.

I had only just hung up when the phone range again.  This time it was the brother who ran the support group Sheldon had gone to once.  I explained to him that Sheldon had moved out, and again talking to him was so comforting.

While the kids and I were reading the phone rang again.  Once more it was someone who cared, acting on a prompting to call me.  I reflected on those phone calls, and all the events of that day, as I tucked the kids into bed.  It seemed to me, that evening, that I could feel the Lord's arms wrapped around me in my moment of despair.  I knew the days ahead were going to be difficult in the extreme, but that night I knew the Lord knew my sorrow, and that he was taking care of me.