The end of my two weeks at home fell on a very important day. My baby sister’s 21st birthday. I realize she is not a baby, but I have two younger sisters, so one is the “little” sister and one is the “baby” sister. It’s easier to keep them straight that way. Originally, the entire family had planned to come home for the weekend for a big family celebration. Which meant my little sister and brother-in-law would drive down from Washington D.C. and my husband and I would fly from New York. The plane tickets had been purchased, time off had been requested, everything was arranged. Except my husband was a no-show.
Sure, by now we can all assume that he had never truly planned to actually get on a plane and face my family…but my little naive heart still held out hope. After all, he had a plane ticket…maybe he would fly down and we could all talk this out, cry, hug, and move on with our lives. But he wasn’t coming. Instead, he had flown to LA to hang out with a “friend.” I wouldn’t let my thoughts turn to who he was actually with and what he was actually doing. My family could guess. Everyone could guess. Everyone but me.
This was one moment of many where I learned how to pretend that everything was ok. Eventually, I became a champion of putting on a “happy face.” But let’s look at this moment realistically, my entire family is home, we are sitting around our dining room table, my husband has made it clear he doesn’t love me anymore, and I’m the moron serving cake and ice cream to everyone.
My baby sister was the hopeful one. Bless her. My little sister was all about action. She had a plan already in place to get me out of our apartment, out of the marriage, and on with life. She had already moved on for me. My precious brother-in-law sat there looking pained, realizing I had to do this my way in my time. It was a sibling council, a call to arms, and I couldn’t pull the trigger. They knew that in a few short days they would be sending me back to the battlefield. They wanted so badly to save me from any future attacks. But I had already made up my mind.
After that weekend, I packed my things and my father took me back to the airport. To fly away from him and the safety he provided. I don’t know what was going through his head. I am amazed to this day that he didn’t fly up there with me just to punch my husband in the face. I’m sure he wanted to. I had mixed emotions. I believed I had a rough road ahead of me, but I also believed everything would turn out ok. Part of me wanted to keep on hiding, but the other part knew I had to face reality.
The interesting thing about my naivety is that it also came with a boldness. God was on my side. I had read the scriptures. I knew he loved marriage. I knew he had blessed our marriage. And for a very long time, that knowledge was enough for me to hold on. To work. To fight. To pray.
To be bold in our faith of God…If there is ever anything we should remember to hang onto, I believe it is that boldness. We all hurt. We face trials. We fail. And when we are unsure of the next step, the answer is to always Be Bold in our Faith of the Lord. There is bravery in that boldness.
Ephesians 6:19: “And also for me, that words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel.”