Happy Again

What a difference a day makes, a week, especially a couple of years.  When Sheldon left me I thought it was the end of the world.  Then I realized I had a chance to find something better. When that ended when I said goodbye to Garth I thought I would never be happy again.  Sadness was such a part of my life by then I didn't even realize how gray and lifeless everything was.  "Tie a knot in the end of your rope and just hang on," I'd heard someone say, so that's what I did, but my fingers were getting tired.

But time goes on, and bit by tiny bit the sunshine crept back into my world. 

One day I merged onto the Freeway, driving east.  I had the kids and a plate of cookies in the car with me.  We were taking them to our old Bishop and his family, a kind of Thank You for all the love and support and friendship they had given us during the time we lived in their ward. 

It was late afternoon, and the setting sun shown brightly on the Superstition Mountains, standing purple-blue against a back drop of gray-black billowy clouds building up behind them.  I caught my breath in awe, the old familiar feeling in my chest rising up into my throat like a bird on it's wing.  I'd felt this same feeling countless times as I walked home from high school, gazing at those mountains, or driving home from ASU when I was in college.  There were days then, when the mountains were so beautiful I couldn't help being pulled along the highway, passing our neighborhood without a second glance, drawn to the desert and the mountains like a magnet.  This day I had the same feeling, and my face broke out into the biggest grin as I gazed at the Superstitions.

Then an amazing thought hit me.  "I'm happy," I realized.  "I can see the mountains, I can see the stormy sky, I can feel the joy of their beauty!  I'm happy!"  It was so awesome.  I hadn't realized until right then how long it had been since I had noticed the beauty of the world around me, or felt the joy of nature.  "Thank you, Heavenly Father," I prayed in my heart.  "Thank you for being patient with me, for giving me time to get over this, for letting me grieve, and now, for helping me to be happy again."  And I was.

Guardian Angels

"That sounds kind of like what happened to me last year," my eight year old son, Russell, burst out before he thought about what he was saying.

"What does?" Holly and Linnea wanted to know immediately.  We were reading "The Last Battle" from the Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis. 

"Well, it kind of reminds me of something I saw outside your door one night, mom," Russell spoke to me, ignoring his big sisters.

I could tell Russell was embarrassed, now, so I tried to stop Linnea and Holly from teasing him.  "What happened," I coaxed him quietly.

"Well, it was one night last year," he told me.  "I was kind of scared, so I got up to come into your bedroom, but I saw angels guarding your door so I turned around and went back to my bedroom."

"Why didn't you tell me about it?" I asked, surprised. 

"I thought you might laugh at me," Russell admitted, "and then I forgot about it." 

"How did it make you feel?" I asked, hoping I could get him to tell me a little more about his experience.

"Kind of scared," he told me, "but it also made me feel safe because I knew they were there, taking care of us."

I was amazed, and impressed.  "Maybe Heavenly Father let you see them to help you not be frightened anymore," I told Russell. 

"Oh, come on, mom," Holly said in exasperation.  "You don't really think he saw angels, do you?"

"Of course I do, " I told her sternly.  "I know my guardian angel watches over me all the time, and the Bishop mentioned angels who guard our home in a blessing he gave me a few years ago.  So of course I think he saw real angels.  I just wish I could see them some time," I sighed.  "But I guess I don't need to see them to know they are here."

Daisy

"It was my daughters, mostly, who told me I should get married." 

I was sitting across the table from my sweet, elderly neighbor, Daisy.  She was telling me her life story. 

"You see," Daisy explained, "my first husband stepped out on me when my girls were little.  He wanted me to divorce him so he could marry this other woman, but I told him no.  After all, we'd been married in the Temple, and I'd promised to love him for eternity."

"One day, though, my husband came and told me his girlfriend was going to have a baby, and he asked me again to give him a divorce so he could marry her.  Under those circumstances, I finally decided I should give in.  But after the baby was born things didn't work out so well.  My ex-husband's new wife was an awful mother, and eventually he came to me and asked if I would take their little boy and raise him the right way, so I did.  I raised him like he was my son, and he's turned out to be a fine boy.  In fact, he's serving as a Bishop out east of town now."

"Anyway, I was single for a long time, until all of my kids were grown.  I worked at the drugstore down on Main Street.  Over the years I got to know a man who came in to eat there every day.  He was really nice, such a gentleman, and he began wanting to date me, but he wasn't a member of the church, so I put him off.  But he persisted, and finally my girls got involved and told me they thought I should marry him, he really was a fine man."

"In the end I did, and I he was always very good to me.  At first he was interested in the Church, and started taking the missionary lessons and talking about getting baptized.  Then one day our home teachers came to visit.  I'm sure they didn't mean to offend my husband, but they sure did.  They told him even though we were married, I was going to belong to my first husband after we died because we had been sealed in the Temple."

"What?" I exclaimed in surprise.  "That's not true!  You're first husband lost the right to be married to you as soon as he broke his covenants."

"I know," Daisy sighed, "but that's what they said, anyway, and they made my husband so angry he ordered them out of our house and refused to have anything to do with the Church from then on."

"Oh, I'm sorry Daisy," I commiserated.  "Sometimes people really mess things up, don't they?  Especially 'holier than thou', arrogant men who think they know what they are talking about when they don't."

"I know," Daisy smiled sadly.  "Like I said, I don't suppose they really meant to offend my husband.  They were probably trying to coax him into getting baptized so he could take me to the Temple and we could be sealed ourselves, or something.  Anyway, I understand and am not mad at them, but that's why I was inactive for the last five years, until my husband passed away."



"Since my husband had a ranch up in Montana, we spent most of our time up there, only coming down to Arizona for a few months in the winter.  Then, he passed away last spring, and I stayed up there with his family for awhile.  It's nice to be back home, now, though."

I thought it was nice to have Daisy here, too.  She was a sweet friend and neighbor, and the kids and I enjoyed visiting with her and taking goodies over to her every now and then. 

One day, a few months later, the kids and I got home from school late in the afternoon as usual.  It was a lovely, spring day, so I hurried and took advantage of the warm weather by pulling my hose out to the front yard to water my flowers.  I saw Daisy come out of her back door, and called a hello to her over our dividing hedge.

"Oh, Gale, I'm so glad to see you," Daisy called out happily, walking over to the hedge.  "I've just had the most wonderful experience!"

I hurried over to hear her good news.

"This week was the one-year anniversary of my husband's death," she began. "I made arrangements for my foster-son to come with me to the temple so he could be baptized for my husband, and we could be sealed vicariously.  It was wonderful!  Then, the most amazing thing happened today."

Daisy was beaming, and I looked fondly on this spry, eighty-something year-old neighbor of mine.  "I've been trying to find the names of my husband's family so we could take them to the temple and do the work for them, but I haven't been able to get past his own parents.  But suddenly, today, I was able to find his grandparent's names and information, and that opened the door to all the rest of his genealogy.  Now, we can take all of his family names to the temple and we can all be sealed together.  I just know that somewhere up there in heaven, someone has been teaching the Gospel to my husband, and now that he is able to see the whole picture and get over that stupid stuff those men told him years ago, he has accepted it and is helping me from the other side of the veil to find the rest of his family!"

"I betcha you're right," I grinned at Daisy, happy that she finally had her dreams come true.  "It's a good thing Heavenly Father is in control, isn't it, and he can make up for the foolish things people do down here."

That night I thanked Heavenly Father in my prayers for giving Daisy's husband a chance to hear the true Gospel on the other side of the veil, and for the blessing of Temple work, so Daisy would get to live happily ever after with her true love.   I also prayed, again, that I would be able to find my true love and have that same opportunity some day, only I really hoped I wouldn't have to wait until after I died to get my chance.

Face Skiing?

I searched the makeshift parking lot for an old red pickup truck as I crunched through the snow, picking my way carefully over the uneven ground, but I didn't see any.  It was silly to look, anyway, I reasoned with myself sternly.  Garth wasn't going to be here, and even if he was what would I say to him? 

He had brought me and the kids up to the gravel pits twice the winter we met, and we had such a good time.  It was a favorite place for people from the Valley to come play in the snow because of the huge sledding hill and easy access from the main highway.  Today, like the other times we had been here, the gravel  parking lot was crowded with cars, and I had hoped just a tiny bit that I might see Garth, but I was disappointed.

My sister and her husband had joined me and the kids for a day in the snow this Saturday, driving up in our new Astro-Van.  I still wasn't sure I liked the new car, I had really loved my little red station wagon, but a few months earlier Sheldon had insisted on giving me this mini-van to drive.  It wasn't new.  He had bought it along with a couple of other cars for the printing business he had started, and he insisted it would be safer to drive the kids around in.  Personally, I figured he was using it as a tax write -off, but it was big and in good shape, and although it was not nearly as pretty as my old red station wagon, it wouldn't break down as often. 

When we got to the gravel pits I'd looked for Garth's truck, but hadn't seen it.  We'd spent the morning sledding, and I had seen one of my fourth grade students and her parents, but we had only waved to each other across the snowy hills.  It was time for me to get some lunch ready for the kids, so I'd left them with my sister and brother-in-law and made my way back to the cars.  Carefully I climbed up on the mound of snow piled at the edge of the gravel lot where we parked, but stepping down off the snow my boots slipped out from under me and I fell onto the seat of my new ski bibs.  Darn!  All the air rushed out of my lung and I felt like an idiot. Hoping no one had seen me fall I quickly stood up.

Weird?  My nose felt like it was freezing.  "I wonder why it's so cold?" I thought as I struggled to bring my hand up to feel my nose, but my hand seemed to be pinned down under something.  Slowly I moved my head from side to side and realized my face was pressed into something hard and cold and wet.  "What the...." I wondered groggily, unable to figure out where I was. 

Opening my eye right eye just a little bit I found myself staring at a dirty, black tire.  What on earth was going on?  Cautiously I pulled my arms out from underneath me and pushed myself up from the ground.  I seemed to be laying face first on snow covered gravel, although I had no recollection of falling down.

Grabbing hold of the running board, or step, or whatever that metal thing was called on the side of my astro-van, I pulled myself up onto my knees.  My head was spinning, but enough sense was coming back to me to make me want to get off of the ground quickly before anyone saw me laying there.  I struggled with the door for a moment, then clumsily pushed it open and pulled myself up so I could sit on the floor of the van, my legs still hanging out. What on earth had happened?

I remembered slipping and falling on the ice as I stepped over the snow at the edge of the gravel parking lot.  I remembered sitting down hard, the air rushing out of my lungs.  I remembered standing up fast so no one would see me, but then how did I end up face first on the gravel next to my car? 

Suddenly it dawned on me.  I must have stood up so fast I blacked out and fainted! Whoa!  That was kind of cool!  But now I could feel my nose again.  I guess it wasn't so much cold as stinging.  Gingerly I reached up and touched it.  Ouch!  Pulling off my gloves I felt it more carefully, realizing it was sticky and wet with blood.  I must have scraped the skin off as I slid through the snowy gravel.

I sat in the van for awhile until my head stopped ringing and the wooziness wore off a little, then I carefully stood up and took a step forwards until I could see my reflection in the side mirror.  Oh, boy, I was a mess!  My nose was dirty and bloody and all scraped up, bits of black gravel mixed in with the blood.  The left side of my top lip was cut and bleeding, and my chin was skinned up, too.  "This is going to be fun showing my kids at school on Monday," I thought.

I was still pretty shaky, but I had my equilibrium back, so I decided I'd better get on with fixing some lunch for my family.  Carefully I walked to the back of the van, opened the doors, got out the sack full of fixings, and carried it to the side of the parking lot where I'd planned to build a little fire and roast hot dogs.  By the time the kids came trooping back I had a warm fire, hot water for cocoa, and roasted hot dogs ready to eat.

"What happened to you?" my brother-in-law exclaimed as soon as he saw my face.  Everyone else gathered around me, excited to hear my story.  It sounded pretty silly when I told them I'd slipped on the ice, then passed out when I stood up too soon, but they oohed and awed and didn't once tell me I was dumb for not looking where I was stepping.  In fact, it was kind of fun being the center of attention.

My brother-in-law volunteer to drive home so I could sit in the back and rest my head, which was beginning to ache, so after cleaning up we packed all the snow gear in the back, climbed in, and headed home.  It was only the middle of the afternoon, and I scanned the parking lot once more  just to make sure Garth's truck hadn't pulled in while I was pre-occupied, but thank goodness it still wasn't there.  For sure, I decided, I was glad he hadn't brought his family up to play in the snow on this particular day, so he didn't get a chance to see my blood covered nose or my less than graceful face plant in the snow.

Anomaly

Anomaly: something anomalous: irregular: deviating from the general rule.  That's what my life seemed to be filled with. 

A fourth grade teaching position became available at the elementary school my second year of teaching.  It was my dream job, the grade I had always wanted to teach, and I really enjoyed getting to move up.  My students were delightful, the staff were my friends, the subject matter was fun, and I dreaded going to work every single day.

The problem was, when I was at school I worried about how things were going at home.  I felt guilty for leaving my kids, for not being there to potty train the little ones, to read them stories when they went down for their naps, to kiss their cuts and scrapes, dry their tears, and hold them close and love them. I missed going on field trips with the older kids, helping out in their classrooms, getting to know their teachers, and being involved in their daily lives.  Mom took over for me, and she was a wonderful surrogate mother, much better than I was, but I resented not being the one to take care of my own children.

On the other hand, when I was home with the kids in the evenings and on weekends I couldn't concentrate on them without feeling guilty that I was neglecting my school work.  I knew I would be a much better teacher if I prepared more elaborate lessons, spent more time developing learning activities, put more thought into teaching and testing methods, and worked harder on my classroom environment.  As it was, I just did the essential jobs and let the extra, creative part of teaching go for lack of time.

Every morning I rushed through feeding and dressing the kids, quickly studied the scriptures together, then ran them over to mom's so I could rush across town to get to school on time, the whole while dreading going there.  As soon as I walked in my classroom, though, I was fine.  This was my classroom, these were my students, and I was in my element.  But after school I rushed home to be with my real kids, get supper, make sure they did their homework, do the laundry, make tomorrow's lunches, referee arguments, patch up disappointments, dry tears, and dish out discipline, all the while knowing I should really be grading papers or preparing lessons.  Weekends were full of make-up work, and Sunday evenings were the worst because I knew the extra time was almost over and I had to go back to work in a couple of hours.  If only I could have cut myself in half and had one part of me totally focused on home, the other part totally focused on school.  But I couldn't.

Similarly, my relationship with Sheldon and his new wife was also anomalous.  On the one hand, I was pleased that he seemed to be changing, trying to put his life back in order and doing the things he was supposed to be doing.  I was proud of him when he was re-baptized and started going back to church.  On the other hand, it hurt like the dickens that he hadn't been able to make that change when we were married. 

His new wife was at once overly friendly and at the same time hurtful and angry.  She asked me to visit her one night so she and I could talk some issues out.  She began telling me how wonderful Sheldon was, how great it was that we were all one big happy family, and how delightful it was going to be in heaven some day because we would all live together, Sheldon and both of his wives, happily ever after.  I was flabbergasted!  There was no way in a million years that I intended being Sheldon's wife in heaven, or wanted to share him with another woman!  Then she went on to complain about stuff the kids did, sure that they were being mean just to spite her.  She accused the little boys of making her bathroom dirty on purpose, and was sure all the kids left their Christmas candy wrappers all over her living room just to be mean to her.  I tried to tell her that kids did stuff like that just because they were kids, they probably didn't even realize the wrappers had fallen under the couch, but she was sure they were making her life miserable just because they didn't love her as much as they loved me, and she wanted me to have a talk with them and tell them I loved her, too, and that we were all just one big happy family living in two houses. 

Sheldon went from being super cool to being super cold.  He never paid his child support on time, and for years was at least a thousand to two-thousand dollars behind.  But he called our old Bishop one night and railed at him about how it wasn't fair I was going to have a nicer house than him when our home was foreclosed on and I had to move into my brother's old house when he was transferred to a new city for work.

I did like our new house.  It was fun to live close to the same neighborhood I had grown up in, but the house itself was very old and had plumbing and electrical problems.  It was imaginatively built, with cute little cubbyholes here and there that added character and charm, but the water smelled like sulfur and came out of the kitchen sink a pale orange color, which made me afraid to let the kids drink it. 

I enjoyed our new neighborhood and ward, but I always felt like I was a visitor, never like I was home.  The first Christmas we lived there the kids and I chose two families to play Secret Santa to.  We planned twelve little presents, one for each of the twelve days before Christmas, and snuck up to these homes after dark to leave our gifts on their doorsteps.  On returning home the first night we discovered a package waiting on our own back porch.  Someone else was playing Secret Santa for us!  It was so much fun, and helped us have a really delightful Christmas.  On the last day I really hoped our special friends would let us know who they were so we could thank them for all the joy they had given us.  They alluded us, though, and I never discovered who they were.  It made me look at every person I knew with new eyes, though, wondering if they were our Secret Santa.


Still, I always had an empty spot in my heart, feeling like these wonderful people in our new ward welcomed us with open arms but I couldn't quite give myself up to them.  Half of me was left behind in our old ward, the other half was waiting expectantly for I don't know what, to be home I guess.  To belong, to get back to normal, to just be Gale; mother, wife, sister, ordinary Gale, not the divorced, single, working woman I was pretending to be at that time.

Education Week

"I used to put goldfish in my teenage step-sons toilet bowl," the speaker told us confidentially on the second day of her class.  "They thought they were too old for fun, but I found ways to make them laugh."

I was attending BYU Education Week, and this particular class had caught my eye.  It was taught by a woman who had married late in life to a widower with a large family of nearly grown children.  She was explaining how she had managed to blend herself into this already well established and defined family.   The class itself was called Success in a Second or Subsequent Marriage, and I was hoping I would be able to use what I learned sometime in my own future.

"You've got to prove to these children that you won't fail them," she told us.  "They've already had someone they love leave them, whether through death or divorce or whatever, so whether they know it or not, they are afraid inside that you will leave them too.  Sometimes they will act out and be absolutely horrible, just to push you away, since they figure you will leave them anyway at some point.  So you have to prove to them that you are going to stay, no matter what."

That sounded like good advice.  I was enjoying this class, and even if I never did re-marry, everything I was learning applied to my own children, too. 

"You've got to remember these are God's children!" she emphasized continually.  "Never argue with them, ask them what they need, what they want.  Remember, 'a soft answer turneth away wrath'.  Try to look at these children the way the Lord would look at them, and love them unconditionally, the way he loves them.  But most of all, don't forget to have fun."

"I used to work really hard trying to get my teenage step-sons to laugh.  You know how stuffy boys that age are.  It's like they think their face will break if they try to smile.  So one night I got a roll of butcher paper and taped it over their door.  I figured in the morning it would be fun for them to run through the paper, like the football team when they run out onto their home field and run through the banner the cheerleaders are holding up."


"The kids got such a kick out of it that it became kind of a family tradition to paper someone's door every few months.  Christmas wrapping paper worked best, because it was so colorful.  The most fun time we had was on my oldest step-sons birthday.  The other kids helped me paper his door during the night, and then we stacked every book in the house behind the paper, so in the morning when he tried to run through it he smashed into a wall of books.  They still talk about that morning!"

She was crazy, but I enjoyed that class! I had forgotten, over the past couple of sad years, to have fun with my kids.  I determined then that I was going to go home and try to enjoy my children.

I loved all of the classes I took that week.  I learned about reading the scriptures, how to follow the Savior, teaching my children morality, how to do genealogy, even ways to deal with depression.   I learned there are two kinds of depression; clinical, which is caused by something physically wrong in our bodies; and situational, which is caused by events that happen around us. And I identified many characteristics in the second kind of depression in my own life. Just knowing this kind of depression gets better over time gave me hope that some day I would be able to smile and laugh normally, again, which was perhaps the best blessing I got from attending Education Week.

Climbing Mount Everest, or HOPE

I never saw Garth again. 

The week he re-married his ex-wife was tough, but again, Heavenly Father was watching out for me.  I got a remarkable phone call one morning from a woman I had never met.  She was the mother of my brother's old girl-friend.

"You're going to think I'm pretty strange," she began as soon as I answered the phone, "but I was wondering if you would like to go to Education Week in Utah with my daughters this week?"  Before I could ask any questions she hurried on.  "My daughters and I bought tickets to go, but at the last minute I have to back out.  The girls are going anyway, and I hate to waste a good ticket, so I was trying to think of someone to give it to, and for some reason your name came to mind.  I know it's crazy, but there it is.  Would you like to go?"

Would I like to go?  Of course I would!  There were all kinds of last minute preparations and juggling that had to be done to get the kids taken care of, but everything fell into place easily.  Obviously, this was another of Heavenly Father's tender mercies, and I was so grateful.

Education week is held on the Brigham Young University Campus, and is a full week of classes, devotionals, and programs designed to lift, teach, and motivate people to live the gospel better.  I had never been, but always wanted to.  It turned out to be just as wonderful as I imagined.

One of my favorite classes was about hope.  The teacher used an analogy of mountain climbing to help us understand that principle.

He suggested that we imagine we had decided to scale Mount Everest. It would take a lot of preparation and planning, of course, but after training and getting everything ready, we set out. We have bought all our supplies and hired a guide, so we fly to the foothills of the Himalayas, and then begin to climb.

Climbing Mount Everest takes many days and lots of equipment, including oxygen for when you get so high you can’t breath without help. Each day you climb and climb. In the evenings you set up camp. Eventually you reach the point where the oxygen gets so thin you have to use tanks to breath. Your guide tells you that you are getting near the top of Mount Everest, but you haven’t been able to see it for days because of the clouds surrounding the top of the mountain.

You get to the point where you have only got enough oxygen left for three more days of climbing, but the guide assures you that is enough. Although you haven’t been able to see the summit the guide says you are close and should be able to reach the top in at least two days. You make camp that evening and go to bed in your tent, excited about being so close to reaching your goal. In the middle of the night you are awakened by the howling of the wind, and in the morning when you look out of your tent all you see is white. A huge storm has blown in and you can’t climb until it gets over. All day you sit in your tent, frustrated because you can't climb. Still, you have enough oxygen to climb two more days before you have to start back down.

The next morning you wake up to hear the blizzard still blowing. Now you are getting worried, as well as frustrated. If the storm doesn’t let up tomorrow you won’t have a chance to finish your climb. You go to bed that night hoping and praying that the storm will blow itself out and that you will be able to at least get close to the summit tomorrow.

In the morning you wake early to the sound of silence. The storm is over. Quickly you get dressed and crawl out of your tent. You are the first person up, but you can’t wait to see how close you are to the summit. The whole world is now covered in snow, and everything is white and glistening. You look up to see if you can see the top of the mountain, but it is still hidden by clouds. You decide to walk to a rock a little way from camp, hoping from there you’ll be able to see the summit better. After hiking a little way you look up again and see that the clouds are beginning to break up. You stand there on the rock, waiting, as the clouds drift apart and finally you are able to see the summit of Mount Everest, and you are almost there! You are so close that you will be able to reach the top in less than an hour! That is hope!

Then the speaker said, “Now, here’s the deal. That is how far you were on your journey to heaven on the day you were born! You already climbed most of the way in pre-mortal life. Now all you have to do is finish the last little bit while here on earth. The thing is, we need the clouds to part occasionally to remind us how close we really are to our goal, and to give us the hope and courage to keep going. Because we can make it!”

I Will Always Love You

"It doesn't take any talent at all to get married," my sister-in-law laughed, "anybody can do that, especially if they lower their standards far enough. The trick is finding the right person to marry."

I loved Becky!  She was new to our family, and young, but she had great wisdom and I really valued her opinion. 

"I wish finding the right one was all it took for me," I sighed.  It was still only a few weeks since Garth and I had said goodbye.  Every time I heard a car drive past my house I still looked up, hoping against hope that he was coming to tell me that his ex-wife had changed her mind again, and decided she wasn't ready to give up her wild ways so they weren't going to re-marry after all.

"You know," Becky suggested carefully, "a friend of mine once told me you can love quite a few people in this life, but maybe not be destined to marry them."

That was a new thought to me.  I had loved Gene, or at least I thought I had. I had surely loved Sheldon, and now I loved Garth.  I couldn't be married to any of them, but that didn't mean I didn't love them.  Somehow that realization made me feel better. 

I didn't like the saying, 'It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,”  at least, not  now while the pain of saying goodbye was so stark.  Perhaps someday I'd be able to look back fondly on these wonderful men and remember the happiness they had each given me.  At the moment, though, my heart was still crying.

The day my little sister Julie got married, mom had said something that also made me think.  "You know, Gale," she had said, "I was thinking about all the young men killed during World War II.  I wonder if one of them wasn't up in heaven singing Halleluiah the day you and Sheldon got divorced, and he's there waiting for you now."

That was a really interesting idea, but I hoped I didn't have to wait until I got to heaven before I found Mr. Right.  To tell you the truth, I wasn't at all interested in looking any more.  Garth still held my heart, and though I knew it was wrong of me to hope, I was still waiting for him to come back.

Just before school let out I got a notice from my mortgage company, telling me they were repossessing our house.  It had been a whole year since Sheldon left and the mortgage hadn't been paid, so it wasn't a surprise.  I even had a plan in place for when it happened.  My little brother, Phillip, was being transferred down to Thatcher, Arizona, and we had made arrangements for me to take over his house payments and move into his house in Mesa.  I was sad to be leaving our friends and neighborhood, but his house was close to mom and dad's, which would be nice.  The only real problem with moving was knowing that Garth wouldn't know where to find me.  I couldn't just call him up on the phone and say, "Hey, Garth, I'm moving back into Mesa and here's my address, so in case your ex-wife changes her mind and doesn't want you to re-marry her, or in case she blows it again sometime in the future and breaks up your marriage, you'll know where to find me."  I mean, I would have liked to give him my address, but how 'other womanish' would that be? 

We moved into our new house in June.  It was fun painting and decorating and making it our home.  It was more fun staying home with my kids and not having to teach school.  I had a couple of phone calls from men I'd met before Garth, but I always ended up talking about him all through the dates, so they didn't asked me out again.  I suppose I was a lost cause.

Moving meant I wasn't in Garth's sister-in-law's ward anymore, but we still called each other on the phone and I made sure she knew where we lived.  I tried not to ask her how Garth was doing every time we talked, but at the first of August she told me on her own. 


Neither she, nor any of Garth's family, were happy that he was re-marrying his ex-wife.  They were sure he was just asking for more pro-longed heart ache, even though they knew, like Garth, that it was the best thing to do for the sake of his children.  Still, they all hoped the marriage wouldn't actually go through.  Garth put it off for months, waiting for his ex-wife to either change her mind or prove she was actually determined to make their marriage work.  The first of August his sister-in-law called to let me know that they were actually getting married.  It was the same week as my birthday, and really hard to take, but at least I knew. Finally, perhaps, my heart would stop beating faster every time the phone rang.  Still, even though I knew I had to stop asking how he was doing or hoping I would see him driving down the street, I knew a part of me would always love Garth, and that in the back of my mind I would always be waiting for him to show up on my doorstep.

Understanding

"Do you remember the story of Zion's Camp?" my Stake President asked me after I finished telling him my sad story and asked for his advice.

"I think so," I answered, surprised.  "At least, I remember learning a little about it."

"Well, it happened in the early history of the Church," (we belonged to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day-Saints) the Stake President told me.  "The Saints who were living in Missouri at that time were being badly persecuted, driven from their homes, their property stolen from them, and threatened with their lives." 

"Joseph Smith received a revelation from God telling him to gather a group of men and march to Missouri.  They thought they were going to fight off the persecutors and liberate the saints, but when they got there the Lord told Joseph to turn around and march back home."

"Many brethren were upset by this turn of events.  They naturally wondered why they had marched hundreds of miles just to turn around and go home again, and quite a few of them turned against Joseph and called him a fallen prophet.  I suspect it was even hard on him.  He probably wondered why the Lord had given him a revelation to do something when in the end he wasn't supposed to do it after all.  He may have even wondered if he heard properly, or if he had made a mistake."

Suddenly I understood why the Stake President was telling me this story.  I had come to him about just such a situation.  I had told him how Garth and I had been led by the Lord to meet each other.  How we had been prompted that we were meant for each other, how we had both received confirmations that we were supposed to get married; and then how Garth's ex-wife had begged him to take her back, and for the sake of their kids,  since his Priesthood leaders had advised him to try to make his marriage work, and because he had finally received confirmation that he was supposed to re-marry her, we had had to say goodby. 

"Didn't I listen to the spirit right?" I had asked the Stake President.  "I really thought I was doing everything I was supposed to be doing, so why did this happen?"

"Do you remember what some of the end results of Zion's Camp were?" the Stake President continued.

"Well, I know that many of the future leaders of the church went on the march," I answered, "and all during that time they were being trained on how to lead the Church and gaining experience."

"Exactly," the Stake President agreed.  "In fact, although the brethren thought they knew why the Lord told them to go to Missouri, in actuality there ended up being an entirely different reason for it.  Joseph Smith did not hear wrong.  He wasn't a fallen prophet, or even mistaken in this revelation.  They just weren't able to see the whole picture at that time."

The Stake President smiled at me, then continued,  "I don't suppose you heard the spirit wrong when you were prompted that you and Garth were supposed to be together.  I would guess, instead, that the Lord wanted you to go through this experience for a reason, you just can't see it yet.  But you will some day.  So in the meantime, don't get down on yourself.  You're doing what's right.  Just keep it up."

It was comforting to have my Stake President tell me this, and it alleviated a lot of my concerns and worries, but it didn't take away the hurt.  Garth had told me once that I was his savior.  It was sweet of him to say so, but then he had qualified the compliment by saying, "You know, being a savior isn't exactly an easy job.  I don't think anyone is jealous of the pain and suffering Christ went through to be our savior.  It takes someone who loves a whole lot to be willing to be a savior for anyone else."

He was right, I guess.  It sure hurt a whole lot, for a long time. The thing I wanted to know, though, was, if Garth and I were supposed to meet, fall in love, but not get married, then what was the real reason? In the end, it took a lot of living and a lot of time to to figure that out, but eventually it began to make sense.


Thank goodness for time.  Once again, it became my best friend, and pain killer.

Letting Go

We picked our way carefully over small rocks, between patches of prickly pear cactus and creosote bushes, and around piles of desert brush.  The sun was long gone, the sky deep indigo, but a strip of purple-magenta on the western horizon still glowed, gradually fading into night.

I rubbed a leaf of the creosote branch Garth had picked for me between my fingers, then held it to my nose and slowly inhaled.  Oh, how I loved that smell!  The first time we were on the desert Garth picked a small twig for me, telling me to smell.

"Rain!" I exclaimed in wonder, as I breathed in the dusty fragrance.  All my life I had loved that odor, the first hint that rain was beginning to fall somewhere out on the desert, but I hadn't known it was the smell of the creosote bush. 

For the rest of my life I knew that fragrance would remind me of Garth.  That, and the perfume of the butter colored narcissus he had pulled up for me the day we visited his family's cabin in Arivipa.

"Be careful," Garth cautioned when we reached our destination in the middle of the desert.  It was a mound of tall, black rocks, standing alone on the desert floor.  From the road it had looked like a fairy castle, standing alone out on the middle of the desert, and I had been intrigued.  Up close it was just a jumble of huge boulders, standing ten feet tall, perhaps ten feet wide, and at least twenty feet long.

Garth helped me climb the rocks, finding a level spot on top where we could sit and watch the stars come out.  The spring sun had soaked into them, and they felt good as the evening air cooled around us.

"It's beautiful," I breathed quietly.

"Yes it is," Garth agreed, wrapping his arms around me as I settled back into his chest.  "And peaceful."

It was, and I was glad for that.  It seemed over the past two months that peace was a commodity in short supply for us.  And one that we really needed.

We sat on our boulder, watching the stars blink into existence high above us, until the sky became a piece of inky black velvet, displaying millions of sparkling diamonds overhead.  Finally Garth took a deep breath and said, "I love you, Gale.  You know that, don't you?"

"Yes," I whispered saddly.  I knew he loved me, and it still surprised the heck out of me that he did.  It was at once the most amazing and the most devastating thing, because to love meant you were vulnerable to be hurt.

"I love you too, more than you'll ever know.  So I'm going to have to let you go, aren't I?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered into my hair.  "I never, ever meant this to happen.  You are the most amazing woman I've ever known, and I was sure we were going to have eternity.  But now...."

"It's OK," I assured him hopelessly, "I understand.  You've got to give your family a chance.  You have to put your children first, that's the way it should be, the only way it can be.  You wouldn't be the man you are if they didn't come first.  I know that, and I don't want you to change.  I understand."

Garth squeezed my shoulders tighter, and we sat for a few more minutes in silence.

"I really don't think it is going to last," he finally told me, taking a deep breath before going on.  "My ex-wife has changed her mind so many times.  She's promised to be faithful over and over again, but it's not really in her make-up.  I don't expect this time to be any different.  I know I can't ask you to wait, but someday, if I come back, will you still give me a chance?"

"Of course," I cried softly, turning my face to bury it into his shoulder.  He held me tight for a long time, until my silent sobs wore themselves out, then he kissed me sweetly.  "It's OK, Gale.  It's going to be OK."

I knew it wasn't.  This was goodby, and it hurt like the dickens.  "Why did I ever have to fall in love with him?" I wondered helplessly, hating the pain that filled my heart all my waking hours. "Why did I ever have to meet this wonderful man who was better than any person I had ever known, who had reawakened dreams of living happily ever after, dreams I had shut away so tightly when I was married to Sheldon that I had forgotten all about them?  Now I had to shut them away all over again.

"I'll never forgot you," Garth whispered softly into my ear as my shoulders stopped shaking and he knew I was done crying.  "I thank God every day that he led me to you.  You have been my salvation, my savior, and I love you so much."

I nodded my head helplessly into his shoulder, unable for a moment to respond.  The moon had risen in the east, and Garth turned me now to face it.

"Look at that," he said tenderly.  "Isn't it beautiful?"

It was, full and white and glowing like a torch above the eastern mountains.  "I'll never see a full moon again without thinking about you," he promised, and I knew the same would hold true for me.  "Wherever I am, whatever I'm doing, the Friday night closest to the full moon I'll be remembering you."

"And I, you," I whispered into the still night air.  "And I, you."

Not All Over Again!

It seemed that I was never meant to live happily ever after.


One of the first things I asked Garth when we met was what he would do if his ex-wife decided she wanted to get back together again. 


"That wouldn't happen in a million years," he assured me.  "She's been cheating on me ever since we got married, and I've always taken her back when her affairs ended, but this time she she's done with being married.  There's no way she's going to change her mind."


Even after kicking him out and filing for divorce, Garth had avoided signing the papers for months.  Finally he had given in.  He felt impressed that the Lord told him he had done everything he could, and it was time for him to get on with his life.  We met not long after that.


It took four months for a divorce to be final in Arizona. Since Garth wasn't single yet we spent three wonderful months getting to know each other, but not dating.  Then, just a month before his divorce was final, Garth's estranged wife changed her mind.  Maybe it was knowing that someone else thought Garth was wonderful that woke her up, but somehow she realized what she was giving up, and she asked him to come home.


Garth couldn't believe it, literally.  He was sure she was just going through another one of her phases, and that soon enough she would want to be rid of him again, so this time he didn't go back.  I was releived, but also worried.  Did that make me the other woman?  I really, really, did not want to play that role.


Garth assured me that I wasn't breaking up his marriage, so we tried to go along the same as before, but the innocent thrill of finding true love was gone. 


Eventually Garth's divorce was final and we went out on our first date. We had one glorious week, but then things went changed.


"My bishop called and asked if he could talk to me tonight," Garth told me one Sunday afternoon when he came to have dinner with me and the kids.  "I'll come over afterward to tell you about it."


I waited on pins and needles, wondering what was going on.  "Is everything OK?" I asked as soon as Garth got to my house.


"My ex-wife went to the bishop this week.  She wanted him to talk to me and ask me to take her back," he told me. 


"What did you say?" I questioned anxiously.


"I told him that she's been doing this same thing the whole time we were married, and that I don't think anything has changed this time except that I feel like the Lord thinks it's time for me get on with my life, with you."


I let out my breath in relief, then asked, "What did your bishop say?"


"He understood.  He assured me that he hadn't known about our past, and he would feel the same way I do if he was me.  He said he'd tell my ex-wife it was too late this time."


"I'm sorry," I told Garth, really meaning it.  I felt terrible for his ex-wife, finally realizing what a wonderful guy she was losing, and I was sad that I was giving Garth a reason to not want to take her back.  On the other hand, I was thrilled that he didn't want to go.


"Don't be sorry," he told me tenderly.  "None of this is your fault.  I'm just so glad that I have you to help me get through this."


We thought that was the end of it, but a week later Garth's bishop called him again.  He explained that his ex-wife was really, really sorry for what she had done, and that she had  repented and wanted a second chance.  This time she had gone to their Stake President as well, and he wanted to visit with Garth, too.


Before he went, Garth told me that no matter what happened, he wasn't going to change his mind.  When he called me after his meeting he told me he still felt the same.  "Both the Bishop and my Stake President think I should give her a chance," he admitted finally.  "They think I should take her back for the sake of the kids, if for no other reason.  I don't want to go against their counsel, but they really don't understand."


Again I was relieved, but mixed up now.  It sure felt like I was turning into the other woman, the reason Garth wouldn't go back to his family, and it felt horrible.  


"Garth, I don't want to cause you to do something you'll regret later," I told him sadly.  "There is one thing I will never, never do, and that is cause a marriage to break up.  I couldn't live with myself if I ever did that."


"You're not the cause," he told me again.  "My ex-wife broke our marriage up years ago.  Never, ever think it is your fault.  You came into the picture a long time after everything was done."


Just the same, I couldn't help feeling uneasy, and extraordinarily sad.  Garth was worried, too.  In all of his life, he had never done anything contrary to what his Priesthood leaders had said.  He couldn't help feeling bad about it now, even though he was sure the Lord had answered his prayers months earlier, and that he was doing the right thing now. 


He tried to explain his spiritual impressions to his Stake President and Bishop, but they continued to press him to try to make things work with his ex-wife.  He was so depressed.


That was an awful Spring.  Even though he didn't want to, Garth spent most of his time trying to figure out if the Lord wanted him to take back his wife.  One week it seemed like we were going to live happily ever after, the next it looked like I was going to loose my true love, all over again.


Ironically, it was just one year before that I lived through the same kind of Spring, while Sheldon tried to decide if he wanted to stay married to me or not.  Only this time it hurt so much more.  Sheldon had been my husband, true, but he hadn't been a very good one, and he hadn't really loved me for a long time.  Garth, on the other hand, was perfect.  He loved me, he thought I was wonderful, and he was the best man I had ever met.  Worrying that I would loose him was like being afraid I would never be happy again.

Looking Forward to Living Happily Ever After

 It seemed to be ordained in heaven for Garth and I to marry.  We had both endured extremely difficult marriages, determined to honor our covenants no matter how hard it was until our spouses made the choice to get divorced.  We had both received personal witnesses that we were doing what was right, the Lord knew our sacrifices, and he would bless us with happy families in return.

Back in the summer, a long time before she even knew I was getting divorced, Garth's sister-in-law had worried and prayed about his happiness and been impressed that I would make him a good wife.  As he went through the trials of separation from his family he had prayed for help and guidance.  He didn't tell me until weeks later, but the night he sat next to me at the piano recital the spirit had whispered to him that I was the one the Lord had prepared for him. 

I'd already decided Garth was Mr. Right before he told me about that experience.  When we were married, Sheldon often scolded me for wanting him to be a Knight-in-Shining-Armor.  When he was cross he would shout, "Why don't you go find that perfect man you always want me to be and marry him.!"  Meeting Garth was like having my knight come and find me, but I wanted to be absolutely sure I was making the right decision this time. 

"You're going to have to hit me over the head and tell me when I meet the right guy," I had often prayed to Heavenly Father, "because I can't trust my own judgment anymore.  I thought I was making the right decision with Sheldon, and look where that got me."

So as Garth and I grew closer, and when he finally admitted he knew I was the right one, I began fasting and praying for my own confirmation.  It came in a strange way.  The Lord didn't tell me, "Marry Garth, he's the one for you."  Instead the thought came to my mind, "I'm not going to tell you what to do, Gale, because everyone runs into hard times when they are married.  If you marry Garth just because I tell you to, someday you'll second guess that inspiration and wonder if you heard wrong.  Instead, you just keep on getting to know him, fall in love like everybody else, and make your decision then."

We had so much fun!

Soon after we met, Garth filled out the divorce papers his wife had sent him.  His divorce was scheduled to be final on March 4th, so we began talking about getting married in the spring. 

I'd hoped my divorce with Sheldon would stay amicable and friendly, but as soon as he decided he wasn't interested in coming back it turned hard.  Dad had warned me it would be. 

"As long as you have children together, it will always be difficult," he'd warned.  "No matter how much you may want to have Sheldon out of your life, you're still going to have to deal with him because of the kids."

 A divorced friend of mine gave me some good advice that she had learned the hard way.

"Try to give in whenever you can," she told me.  "There will be plenty of times when you have to stand your ground, and it will get really nasty, so whenever you can, be flexible and gracious and let him have his own way.  If you'll do that he will be easier to deal with, and you'll end up getting your way more.  If you're lucky, he may even get tired of the whole thing and leave you alone.  Most men just want to argue for the sake of arguing, so if you don't give him a reason to fight, you'll be much happier."

I believed she was right, so I tried to let Sheldon do what he wanted.  When he changed his days for visiting the kids at the last minute, I tried not to say anything.  When he insisted we share the Holidays instead of splitting them up like the divorce decree stated, I let it go.  I knew it would be hard not to have them with me the whole day, but I arranged our plans so the kids could do all of our family Christmas traditions early, and then spend the rest of the day with Sheldon. 

Having Garth around helped a lot.  Sheldon was with a new woman he had met during the summer, and the kids told me they were getting married soon.  It hurt when I first heard them talk about their other "Mom", Sheldon insisted they call her that.  I couldn't help being jealous when I had to give up my plans just because Sheldon wanted  his girl-friend to be happy.  After all, it wasn't my fault we got divorced, I hadn't asked for it, but thank goodness I had my own plans to think about and smile over when the pain got too bad. 

I really worried about that first Christmas.  I was so afraid it would be traumatic for all of us, but it came and went, and we lived through it.  Sheldon married his girlfriend the second week of January, almost a year to the day after he broke my heart by telling me what he had been doing.  I lived through that, too.  Garth was sweet and supportive, taking the kids and I on day trips to his family cabin, to our cabin, and sledding up in the snow, giving all of us a chance to get to know each other.  We had fun together, and the kids enjoyed being with him.  In fact, it looked like we were at the beginning of living happily ever after. 

Getting to Know Him

November 29, 1987   Sunday, 8:00 pm

Dear Journal,
      Are you ready for another installment of the saga of singledom?  (Sounds like a good Soap Opera, doesn't it?)
      First of all, I'm sorry it's been so long since I wrote.  I've been so tired lately.  But you'll never guess what happened last night! I went on my first ….........

The doorbell rang, so I got up from the kitchen table and went to answer it.  It was Garth!  He'd driven around the block fifteen times before he got up the courage to come in! 

We'd officially met the night before, having dinner at his brother's house. I'd wondered if he was going to call me again but I sure hadn't expected him to come over so soon!  Garth stayed for a couple of hours and we talked about our backgrounds. We were both raised in Mesa, Garth had actually grown up just around the corner from Grandma Johnson.  We talked about the Gospel, and it was wonderful to hear Garth talk about the Savior as a personal friend.  In fact, the more we talked the happier I got.  He seemed to be exactly the kind of man I'd always wanted to find.  Finally, we talked about our past marriages.  I explained how Sheldon had left me seven months earlier and that our divorce had been final in September.

Garth's story was similar to mine in some ways, but his wife had openly cheated on him, whereas Sheldon had kept his infidelities secret.  Garth said his wife had talked about divorcing him for years, but changed her mind in between affairs.  He had always stood by her, mostly for the sake of his children, but this last time she had told him it was over for good. In the summer she had kicked him out, telling him she didn't want to live with him anymore, so he moved in with his parents. 

"So, how long have you been divorced?" I asked curiously.

"Actually," he hesitated, "we're not divorced yet.  She served me with the papers a couple of months ago, but I haven't done anything with them.  Up until now, I wasn't ready to sign them."

That kind of shocked me.  I'd been real careful to not date or go to single activities until I was officially single.  Was this any different?

The next day I talked with my Bishop and explained the situation.  "Should I date him or not?" I asked.

"He sounds like a really great guy," the Bishop told me warmly, "but you're right about not dating someone unless he's single.  I don't see any harm in you getting to know each other, though.  Just keep it light, doing things with your family and stuff, and don't start dating until his divorce is over."

That sounded like a great plan to me.  Garth had actually asked me to go with him to the Temple that week, so I called him the next day and apologized, but told him I'd better not go since that would probably be called a date.

He was so sweet.  He apologized for putting me in an awkward situation, then sent me flowers with the sweetest note to tell me he was sorry. 

Thus began the most wonderful three months of my life.  It was so much fun to have someone wonderful think I was wonderful, too.  When I dated Gene I'd been head over heals in love with him, but I never knew if he liked me or not.  When I dated Sheldon he swept me off my feet and rushed us into marriage, but he did it because his mom told him I was perfect, not because he thought I was wonderful.  Now, at last, I had met a man who thought I was as great as I thought he was.  It was so nice!

The First Date

“Hey, Gale,” my friend said sheepishly when I opened the door Saturday morning and found her standing outside.  "You're probably going to think I'm crazy, but I've come to ask you a funny question.”


“A funny question? What kind of funny question could she possibly have to ask me?” I wondered as as I laughingly invited her into my house, but something tingled in the pit of my stomach.


"Well," Sheila began, "did you by any chance go to a piano recital last night down at the church?"


"Yes," I answered, the tingling getting stronger.  "Linnea was in it.”


"OK," Sheila took a deep breath, and then rushed on, "Here's the deal.  My brother-in-law was at the recital, and he sat next to someone, and he called me last night to see if I knew who it was, and when he described her I thought it might be you.  He's newly single, and you made a big impression on him, and he wanted to know who you were and if you were single, too.  Are you?  I mean, has your divorce gone through yet? Do you mind my asking?"


I caught my breath.  Was this for real?  "Uhhhhhh, yes," I told her.  "My divorce was final in September."


"Good," Sheila breathed a sigh of relief.  "This is really awkward, but he made me come talk to you.  He really wants to meet you."


I was amazed.  The night before my little sister had told me the guy sitting next to me was checking me out, but I'd thought she was just teasing me.   I'd been so busy trying to keep my toddler quiet that I really hadn't paid much attention to the guy who sat in the empty seat next to me. Stephen had been full of it, and I'd been embarrassed that my neighbor couldn't pay attention. I had noticed that he had dark hair, amazing blue eyes, and and a great smile. Well, maybe I had checked him out just a little when the recital ended and I apologized before he hurried away.  But I'd figured he had to be one of the performers dads, so he was probably married. 


"His name is Garth," my friend was explaining.  "His wife left him about six months ago, and he's really a nice guy.  I'm not just saying that, either.  He really is a good guy, and I think you would like him.  He wanted me to talk to you and see if you'd be willing to meet him."


"Sure," I answered eagerly.  Ever since my husband walked out on me seven months earlier I'd been comforting myself with the thought that the Lord must have someone special in mind for me.  It had been devastating to find out my husband was a sex addict, addicted to pornography, and that he had been unfaithful to me for ten years.  I had hoped and prayed that Heavenly Father would lead me to find a new husband, one who would love, honor, and take care of me the way I had always dreamed a husband should.  Maybe this was him!


It was the Saturday before Thanksgiving, and a very busy time, so in the end my friend and I set up the date for the coming Saturday.  She proposed having dinner at her house so I could meet Garth and get to know him in a comfortable setting.  We weren't close friends, but we had worked together in Primary and I often used her oldest daughter as my babysitter.  So having dinner with them would help make this first meeting less awkward, we hoped.


All through the next week I couldn't keep my mind focused.  I wondered about this Garth while I listened to my first graders read aloud at school.  I pictured what he looked like as I put the kids to bed at night.  I daydreamed about the coming dinner while I set the table for Thanksgiving  Dinner at mom's, and blushed bright red when my brothers and sisters teased me about it while we sat around visiting afterward.  The anticipation was so much fun.  The one thing I thought about most of all was how to get over the awkward, first date syndrome.  We weren't either one of us teenagers anymore, so I tried to figure out a way to keep from acting like one.


Friday night finally got there.  I put on my favorite new, bright blue satin shirt and black jeans, hoping it would make my eyes stand out.  My stomach was full of butterflies as I made Mac & Cheese for the kids dinner, and hurriedly picked up the front room so it wouldn't look dirty when Garth got there.  The doorbell rang right at 6:30, he was punctual, and all the kids surrounded me as I pushed my way through to open it. 


There he was, standing on my front door step, even handsomer than I had remembered, bringing his niece with him so she could babysit for me. 


"Come in," I invited, hoping my voice didn't quaver like my stomach was.  Garth smiled, (man! it was a nice smile) and reached out his hand to shake mine.  "I'm Garth," he introduced himself, and stepped into my house.


The kids ran up and surrounded his niece.  She was their favorite babysitter and they were glad to see her.  I quickly gave her a few instructions, we said goodbye, and Garth led me out the door to his truck.  He helped me in, closed my door, and walked around to the other side.


"Thanks for agreeing to come with me tonight," he told me once he'd climbed in.  "I know this is a little strange, but I'm sure glad for a chance to get to know you."


I grinned happily and told him I was happy to get to know him, too.  Then I threw out my big line. 


"I'm not very good at this dating stuff," I told him confidentially.  "I haven't done it for a long time, and I'm afraid I'm not very good at it.  Do you suppose we could just pretend like we already know each other and are friends?"


He smiled even bigger and said, "That's a great idea.  I'm pretty nervous about this dating stuff too.  I haven't been on a date for years, either."


And so it began.  My friend only lived two blocks away, so we were at her house in just a minute.  She'd made a lovely dinner, and afterward we sat around her table, visiting.  Garth and his brother were a lot alike, and it was fun listening to them swap stories.


All too soon it was time to go home.  Garth walked me up to my front door so he could pick up his niece to take her home.  I had to talk to her about how the kids had been, so there really wasn't time for that awkward, saying goodby on the first date stuff.  I just thanked Garth for a nice evening, thanked his niece for babysitting, and said goodby.  I closed the door after they left, then stood there for a few moments, smiling.  It had been a nice evening.  Garth sure was cute, and I hoped he liked me.  But who knows?  I would just have to wait and see.

He Wasn't Wearing A Ring

"Did you see that guy checking you out?" my little sister, Sharon, asked as we walked out to our car.  She was 20 years old and into watching guys.  I was 31, newly single, and at that moment, blushing.

"No he wasn't," I laughed self consciously. 

"He sure was," she persisted.  "I saw him watching you out of the corner of his eye, and he made a point of checking out your left hand to see if you were wearing a wedding ring. And, I checked out his hand. He was not wearing one."

I laughed it off, but it kind of piqued my curiosity.  Sharon had come with mom to attend Linnea and Holly's piano recital.  We got there kind of late, so Mom and my older children sat on one side of the room, Sharon and Stephen and I sat across the isle from them.  Just before the recital started a man slipped in the back door and took the only seat left, next to me.  I'd noticed him, out of the corner of my eye, but I was busy keeping Stephen quiet, so I hadn't really paid that much attention to him.  Now I tried to remember what he'd looked like.

Tall, dark, handsome.  "Don't be silly," I told myself sharply.  "He must be one of the kids dads, why else would he come to a piano recital, so surely he's married."  Just the same, it tickled my mind.

I'd been single for two months.  It made me feel like I was a teenager again, and I hadn't enjoyed it that much the first time.  I was very busy, taking care of my five children and learning the ropes of teaching first grade, but I had found time to go to a few Church Singles dances.  I wasn't impressed.  It seemed that there was an overabundance of weird, single, thirty-something men out there, but a real shortage of normal guys.  One night I danced with a fellow who whispered in my ear, "I've never kissed anyone with five children before, but I think I could get used to it,";  another guy who's opening line was, "I've got a current temple recommend.  How about snuggling up with me in the Celestial Room?"; and a third man who spent the whole night jumping up and down on the balls of his feet, while we were dancing as well as while we stood at the sides of the room talking.  By the end of the night I was ready to give up on the whole Singles scene. 

The problem was I didn't live in a world where I would normally meet many single men.  I spent all day at the elementary school, there were no available bachelors there. I spent all night taking care of my kids. I spent Sunday with my family or at Church, there was no one available there, either. The only other place I could meet new people was at the grocery store, and how often do you run into a nice, single man shopping while pushing two toddlers in a pushcart and trying to keep track of three other children at the same time?  Most men turned the corner and ran the other way when they saw us coming.

So, I couldn't help myself.  I was interested when Sharon told me the fellow at the piano recital was single.  Why not meet Mr. Right there? 

The End (but only of my marriage. Life goes on.)

"I'm really scared for you," the therapist told me after hearing my story during our first session.  "You need to cry, to be angry, to give yourself a chance to grieve."

"Man," I thought to myself, "isn't that what I've been doing for the past seven months?”

Three months after Sheldon left, I was still really struggling with grief.  I missed him so much, I wanted to do what was right, but it was sometimes very hard to figure out what that was.  How do you deal with loosing a spouse, a friend, a companion, a protector and provider? 

Nights were getting better.  At first I went to bed as soon as I put the kids down, the house was so lonely and empty, but little by little I got used to being alone and returned to my old routine.

Money was, of course, still a real issue, but I knew I would have a steady income, albeit small, once I began teaching school.   In the meantime the Lord had been more than generous and provided for our needs.

What I really missed, and really needed, was someone to talk to.  Which sounded pretty silly, because I had my parents, my kids, my brothers and sisters, my Bishop, and a really good friend who came over almost every day to check up on me.  But still, especially at night, I ached to have someone's shoulder to cry on. 

One Sunday when my Bishop asked how I was getting along I tried to explain my feelings.  "I just wish someone would tell me what to do so I can get over this grief and get on with life," I told him.  "I know the steps of grieving, I've even counseled other people how to do it, but now I wish someone would tell me what to do."

"You might try seeing a counselor," he suggested.  "I'll set it up for you if you want."

The therapist was really nice, and it made me feel good when she heard my story and admired how strong I had been.  "Most people in those circumstances would not have handled things as well as you," she told me.  "It's amazing that you are still smiling and dealing with life, but I'm afraid you are smiling too much.  Instead of looking for the good in everything you need to take time out for yourself, and just let your emotions out."

She spent the rest of that session asking me questions and telling me how amazing I was for putting up with my ex-husband.  It felt good to be praised, but by the time I left I was exhausted and pretty depressed after remembering all the garbage Sheldon had dished. out.

The following session was more of the same, and again I left feeling worse than when I had come.  But she said I needed to deal with the past, and how else could I do that without bringing it all back to the forefront and talking about it?

I went one more week, and once again left feeling worse than when I'd come.  When I met with the Bishop the next Sunday he asked how the counseling sessions were going.  "The therapist says I need to cry and get it all out of my system," I told him.  "I've been doing that, but it's not actually making me feel any better. The more I open up and face the past, the worse I feel."

"I think you've had enough counseling," he finally told me.  "You've already grieved enough, I've seen you."

It was a relief to hear him say that.  I wanted to go through all the grieving steps, and heal properly, but I sure didn't want to spend any more time focusing on the past and being depressed.  I wanted to get on with my life.  And it was time. 

Sheldon left at the beginning of May.  I filed for divorce a few weeks later, hoping that would force him to wake up and realize what was actually happening, and perhaps decide it wasn't what he wanted.  He considered coming home once, but only because he was homeless, not because he wanted to change and make our marriage work.  Once he got an apartment and settled down he forgot all about coming home, and soon he was dating another woman, introducing her to the kids and talking about getting married again.  I wondered what happened to wanting "freedom to be with any woman he met."  Oh well.

Our divorce was settled the first of September.  That was a horrible day.  It was the end of ten years of marriage: of loving, laughing, fighting, forgiving, compromising, and enduring, at least on my part.  It was the end of a dream.  On the other hand, it also opened the door to the anticipation of new dreams and hopes for a better life.  Like I had been feeling for the past few months, it was good and bad, happy and sad.  But there it was. 


I went to court in the morning, signed a couple of papers, and walked out a single woman.  Sheldon didn't even attend, he was on a fishing trip at Lee's Ferry.  Funny, but that's the way our life had always been.   And so the future was before me, a blank page to write a new story on.  I wondered that day as I left the courthouse, what kind of story it would be?

My New Car

Heavenly Father sure looked out for us that first summer when we were alone.  Sheldon left the first week of May.  Within two weeks I had a contract to teach first grade the following fall, and also a job to teach summer school in the meantime. 


We had always struggled to pay our bills, especially the mortgage.  When Sheldon left we were a month behind, and I had no idea how I was going to even pay what was immediately due.  Although Sheldon promised he would give us half his pay check each month, it didn't really happen.  I talked to my Bishop about the bills, and he suggested letting the house go.


"It will take your mortgage company at least six months, maybe longer, before they foreclose on you," he explained.  "In the meantime you'll be able to stay in your house, which will give the kids some stability at least for a little while, and by then you'll be teaching school so you'll have an income again."


"But isn't that dishonest, to live here without making the payments?" I asked.


"No," he answered comfortingly.  "You've been paying mortgage insurance for three years, which is designed to cover just such a condition."


"Oh," I answered, relieved that at least I didn't have to move immediately.


My next big concern was getting a reliable car.  Sheldon had sold our old Mazda when he got a brand new work truck to drive, but all I had was an ancient, ugly, brown heap of junk that we had somehow acquired from a friend of his.  The radiator leaked, the power steering and breaks needed new fluid every few days, and the battery was close to dying.  I needed a new car.


With my teaching contract signed, I went car shopping.  I knew I wouldn't be able to afford much, so I was thrilled when I found a small, nine-year-old powder blue ford station wagon that looked  nice and I could  afford. The dealership had just acquired it that morning, they didn't even have the title yet, but they let me sign the papers anyway and take the car home, promising to send the title the next day.   Happily I signed the papers and drove my very own car off the lot.  As soon as I got home I called our insurance agent and insured my new car.  Then I planned a party.


We invited mom and dad and my best friend and her family to dinner the following day. I was going to make chimichaungas and home-made watermelon ice cream, so the following morning I loaded all the kids in our new car and headed down to the grocery store.


On the way home a teenage boy ignored a stop sign and slammed into my car as we drove down the street. Thank goodness none of us were badly hurt, but I couldn't believe the mess he'd made out of my cute little station wagon, not to mention the smashed eggs, watermelon, and ice squished all over the back of my car.  At least it was insured.


Since the car was totaled the insurance company proposed paying me $1500.00, what they felt the car was worth.  The problem was that would leave me still owing the dealership $300.  I talked with my lawyer and he worked out a much fairer deal, but when I contacted the dealership so I could get the title and settle everything up, they discovered they didn't have the title.  In actuality, they had sold me a car they didn't even own.  Frantically, they bent over backwards to work something out with my insurance company.   I ended up with a bright, candy-apple-red Ford station wagon, the same kind I had bought to begin with only a year newer, free and clear with no lien, plus a couple thousand dollars extra.  It was amazing!

Like I said, the Lord really watched out for us during those hard times.

Grieving

It's easy to look back on my divorce and see only the positive things I did, because it's been twenty-five years and the pain and depression has faded and I'm left remembering how everything worked out in the end.  At the time, though, it sure was hard. 

Some days I was just plain angry.  A lot of days.  But those came after I'd pled with Sheldon until I was blue in the face, begging him to stay, to try to make things work, to love me.  Even after he left I still wanted him back, but by then I knew it would be no good. 

Eventually I found myself going back and forth between missing Sheldon so much I ached all over, to feeling relieved he was gone and enjoying the freedom it gave me to do things I wanted.  But the next day, sometimes the next hour, found me wanting him back.

I found an entry in my journal from this time that brought back the memories.  Often I recorded lyrics from favorite songs to explain how I felt. On this particular day I wrote the words from STILL, by Lionel Ritchie.

Still

Lady, morning's just a moment away, and I'm without you once again.

You laughed at me, you said you never needed me -

I wonder if you need me now?

We played those games that people play, we made mistakes along the way,

Somehow I know - deep in my heart - you needed me-

Remembering the pain - if I must say, it's deep in my mind and locked away-

But then - most of all -I do love you -----

Still.

Those memories, times I'm sure we'll never forget, those feelings we can't put aside.

For what we had, sometimes I try to understand, but it's so heavy on my mind.

So many dreams that flew away, so many words we didn't say.

Two people lost in a storm, were did we go, where'd we go?

Lost what we both had found, you know we let each other down

But then, most of all, I do love you -----

Still.

We played the games that people play, we made mistakes along the way,

Somehow I know, deep in my heart, you needed me-

Cause I needed you so desperately, We were to blind to see,

But then, most of all, I do love you -----

Still.

A few days later I began my journal with:          "Long nights make for long days. 

How it hurts.....to be a no one,

How I wish that I was someone really loved.

Brace me up, I'm going under

Heaven help me up above!

(words in a song from the musical - Saturday's Warriors)

Can you tell?  I'm not doing too good this morning"  (my entry continued)  "....I'm so tired of trying to be be perfect.  Can't I be selfish once in awhile?  Can't I feel bad, can't I make mistakes, can't I stop being perfect for just a minute?  I'm so tired of smiling and telling everyone things are great - I'm so tired of looking on the bright side.  I know - "Weary not in well-doing,",  "Charity suffereth long and is kind,"  "Charity never faileth," but just this once ---- couldn't I ask for a little sympathy?  At least form this book?"

 

One thing for sure, grieving is a process that takes time, and it hurts, but eventually things do get better.  They did for me.  Looking back on those days, it almost feels like I just read about them in a book.  I can remember events, and once in awhile even feel the feelings, but the hurt and pain isn't there.  Thank goodness for time.  It is the best painkiller. 

The Blue Chairs

The Christmas before Sheldon left his mother gave me two beautiful, blue, Queen Ann chairs. She had redecorated her living room and no longer wanted them, but for me they were the nicest, prettiest pieces of furniture I had ever owned, and they made me happy.

When Sheldon's secretary kicked him out of her basement he rented an unfurnished apartment, and needed furniture.  He called me one day to ask if he could have the blue chairs.  I was furious! How could he even think about taking my chairs? They were my Christmas present, the first really nice things I had ever owned. Everything else in our house was hand-me-down, cast off, unwanted junk that we had accumulated over the years. I had worked hard to make our house lovely, I'd even taught myself how to recover old couches and chairs, and they looked all right, but these chairs were a step above everything else. Besides, I loved them!

All of these thoughts raced through my mind when Sheldon called, and a couple more reasons why I shouldn't give him my chairs, but then I thought, "Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." "Are these chairs my treasure?” I wondered. 

I really did want to be good. I wanted to build up treasures in Heaven, not on earth, and I wanted to put the Lord first in my life, so I shut my eyes, clamped my hands tightly, and said, “Yes.”

Then the most amazing thing happened. It was if a heavy load that had been pressing down on my chest just floated away. It was awesome! I hadn’t even known there was a pressure on my heart, but when it was gone I felt free, light as a feather, almost as if I were a bird, flying away up into the sky. I’ll never forget that feeling and how happy it made me to let go of something I thought I needed and wanted, and to discover how liberating it was. 

It felt so good that I went into my bedroom closet and got down the set of glass canisters I had been given as a wedding present.  I'd dried my wedding bouquet and arranged the preserved flowers in those canisters.  For years I'd displayed them in our front room, but when we moved into our new house they didn't quite match the decor, so they were still sitting on a shelf in my closet. 

"Sheldon could use these canisters in his new house", I decided.  I've got to admit that tears streamed down my face as I  pried open the air-tight lids and  dumped the dried rose leaves into my bedroom garbage, and I knew I was being a self righteous martyr, but that didn't stop me.  All right, I really wasn't ready to become a saint yet.  But Sheldon didn't know that, and he was happy to have more stuff for his new apartment.

 

Moving Forward

Night times were the hardest when Sheldon first left.  Normal noises suddenly seemed twice as loud, I often woke up in the middle of the night frightened there was someone in the back yard, or thinking I smelled smoke and the house was on fire. 

Days were not as bad because there was so much to do.  First, I had to find a way to earn money.   Sheldon said he would give me half of his pay check, but I knew that wouldn't be enough.  Things had been tight before.  How could I pay our bills now unless I found another source of income?

I had my BA in Elementary Education and a current Arizona Teaching Certificate, but who would hire somebody who hadn't been in a school for ten years?  I knew I should try to get a teaching job, but secretly I hoped no one would hire me.  Couldn't I just stay home and babysit?

The day after Sheldon left I got out my Teaching Certificate, found my College transcripts, and went down to Gilbert Public Schools to get an application.  It didn't take long to fill it out, but I didn't expect to hear back from them.  I was surprised when I turned in the application and they immediately set me up with an interview with the Principal of a brand new school opening that fall.  I met with her the next day, and to my amazement she offered me a job teaching first grade.  What could I do?  Obviously, Heavenly Father wanted me to teach school, so I took the job. This was the first of may so there were still four months before my job would begin, but to my surprise the district also offered me a job teaching summer school.  Again, I knew Heavenly Father was watching out for us.

I had hoped Sheldon would change his mind and decide to stay with me, but once he left it seemed to be time to get on with my life.  That meant getting a divorce.  Our old Bishop was a lawyer, so the week after Sheldon left I made an appointment to talk to him. He explained that he didn't handle divorce cases, but he had an associate who did, so he promised to set everything up.

"Just say the word," he told me as I got up to leave after our meeting, "and I'll go break Sheldon's legs for you."

Shocked, I looked into his eyes and realized he wasn't kidding, not totally.  "Thanks," I stammered, feeling so comforted.  It was awesome to realize there were people all around me who cared.

A couple of weeks later Sheldon called and asked if he could come talk to me. "I want to come home," he began when I met him at the front door a few minutes later. 

Joy surged in my heart, but a little voice whispered, "Take it easy and see what this is all about." We talked for a few minutes, and Sheldon told me his secretary was kicking him out.  Homeless, he now realized he needed somewhere else to live, so why not move back home?

"Do you want to stay married to me?" I asked him suspiciously.
 "Yes," he answered sweetly, using all of his salesman skills to wheedle his way back into our home.  "I love the kids and really miss them, and I want to come home."

"Do you mean you want to stay married to me, or do you still want to go out with other women?"

"No, I'll just be married to you," he promised earnestly.


I looked at him hopefully, wondering if he really had changed at last.  Had knowing that I was going to divorce him made him finally realize what he was loosing? 

"Are you saying you love me and you want to change and make things right? Are you going to come to church with us, and really repent and be re-baptized and everything?" I asked hopefully.

"I never said I wanted to go that far," Sheldon replied disgustedly.  "I only want to come home.  I told you I miss the kids. I hate not living here, and I can see now that I love you.  Don't throw in religious stuff, though. That's not what this is all about."

My heart sank as I thought about his words.  He didn't really want to change anything, he just didn't have any place else to live.

"I'm sorry, Sheldon," I told him, "but without the Lord's help there's no way you're going to be able to change, and I can't go through this any more.  I want nothing more in the world than to be married to you, but you're going to have to make some big changes before I'll take you back.  If you really are serious, if you really do want to change, then prove it to me.  Show me by your actions that you are a new man, then I'll welcome you back with my whole heart!"

Sheldon left in a huff.  I don't know what he'd expected.  Maybe he thought I'd swoon in a dead faint when he told me he was ready to come home.  After all, I'd been the one to hold onto him before, always trying to keep him from leaving.  One thing's for sure, he hadn't expected me to tell him I didn't want him to come home unless he was ready to change.

It sure hurt to turn him away.  I felt like a traitor, and half decided to call him and beg him to come home over and over again all afternoon, but I didn't.  In my heart I knew that it was not Heavenly Father's will for me to stay married to Sheldon unless he changed.  In my heart, I also knew if I took him back just to save me pain, I would be dooming my children, especially my sons, to the same kind of life Sheldon lived.  They deserved to be raised in a home where fidelity in marriage was number one, where we worshiped the Lord Jesus Christ and kept his commandments and tried to be like him.  Regardless how much it hurt, I knew that my course was charted, my sails were set, and I was going to have to try to raise my children on my own, a single mom, and do the best I could.