Chapter 34 - Walking in the Dark

I choose to stay near Mom and Dad Smith for the month apart, but I want my own place. So, Zach and I scout around and find a small apartment in Phoenix, a 20-minute drive from them. The efficiencies are lined up behind the regular apartment buildings, which are clustered around a large pool. These are the Pharaoh Apartments…and I decide later this is my spiritual time in Egypt.

When Zachary flies to Minnesota it is June…the days are long and blistering hot. Both Nick and I have trouble sleeping at night, so I stroll him in a nearby subdivision, up and down long quiet streets where squares of yellow light shine onto the sidewalk. I imagine myself walking with Jesus.

“Lord, I’m so lonely, but you are here with me. You are my Husband and Nick’s Father, and you love us. You really care. Please take care of Zach. Speak to him, show him truth. Help him to give his life back to you…bring him home.”

The Lord is there, His presence is so real! He comforts me. I keep walking, glancing into the golden lights of windows as I stroll by, wondering when Nick and I will have a happy home again.

In the mornings I sleep as late as Nick will allow me, feed him cereal, read the Bible. I begin writing promises from scripture onto 3 by 5-inch cards and read them throughout the day when I need strength.

“I will be glad and rejoice in Your mercy,

For You have considered my trouble;

You have known my soul in adversities,

And have not shut me up into the hand of the enemy;

You have set my feet in a wide place.” Ps. 31:7,8 (NKJV)

“Indeed, let no one who waits on You be ashamed;

Let those be ashamed who deal treacherously without cause.

Show me Your ways, O Lord;

Teach me Your paths.

Lead me in Your truth and teach me.

For You are the God of my salvation;

On You I wait all the day.” Ps. 25:3-5 (NKJV)

I decide to get out in the late mornings and walk several blocks to a restaurant, where Nick and I share breakfast. We stroll the same sidewalks every day, so the neighborhood grows familiar, and the servers greet us cheerfully. The eggs, toast, and hashbrowns are delicious. I try to stay encouraged, live in hope.

Often in the afternoons we swim and splash in the pool. We’re getting brown from the sun, but while Nick gets chubbier, I lose weight. In the evenings I can’t eat much—have no appetite. Toward the end of July I am down to 103 pounds.

Every day I am tense as I peer into the mailbox for a letter. Zach writes only once in the four weeks that stretch into five. At times, getting desperate, I telephone my friend Bonnie to reach him. He calls back once but seems distant.

I’m attending a charismatic church nearby on Sundays, so decide to seek counsel from a lady on staff. Paula is loving, sympathetic. “I went through pain like yours years ago,” she tells me. “I understand. The Lord will get you through. Read Isaiah 54. It can be your chapter.” And she prays for me. Later at the apartment I open to that section of scripture.

“For your Make is your husband,

The Lord of Hosts is His name;

And your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel;

He is called the God of the whole earth.

For the Lord has called you

Like a woman forsaken and grieved in spirit,

Like a youthful wife when you were refused,

Says your God.

For a mere moment I have forsaken you,

But with great mercies I will gather you…” Isaiah 54:5-7 (NKJV)

The words are comforting. I hold on tightly to them, to Jesus, during these days.

I often visit Mom and Dad Smith to talk and pray. I love to stroll Nick along the canal behind their house, especially at sunset. Sometimes during other long evenings I strap Nick into his car seat and we drive out into the desert, watching the gold, rose, and purple colors unfold as the sun sets behind dark blue mountains. God’s desert handiwork is so exquisite, with lacy bushes, saguaro cacti, and scrub oak scattered on desert sand. It seems that in pain we are more receptive to beauty.

Occasionally during the more difficult nights when I can’t sleep, I call Leota. It’s an hour later in Minnesota, but she answers sleepily, listens carefully, and sincerely intercedes. I receive strength to walk forward day by day through her and others’ prayers. My parents are also beseeching God for Zach and me, as we write letters back and forth. And Isaiah 54 is my chapter:

“O you afflicted one,

Tossed with tempest, and not comforted,

Behold, I will lay your stones with colorful gems,

And lay your foundations with sapphires.

I will make your pinnacles of rubies,

Your gates of crystal,

And all your walls of precious stones.

All your children shall be taught by the Lord,

And great shall be the peace of your children.

In righteousness you shall be established…” Isaiah 54: 11-14a (NKJV)

My friend Dawn Wheelock Benson who I had lived with several summers ago (with her parents) is still in Phoenix, now married, with a child. She encourages me, babysits Nick. I try to work a shift or two for a nursing temp agency while she watches Nick, but I find it too stressful. I’m barely keeping my nose above the water edge of life.

During this time I browse the library and bookstores for encouraging books. Classics like Jane Eyre are a pleasant distraction, but one small book seems especially written for me: Hinds Feet on High Places, by Hannah Hurnard. In this allegory, Much Afraid is travelling to the High Places assisted by her companions Sorrow and Suffering. She passes through a dry desert…and in the end Sorrow and Suffering are turned into Grace and Glory.

The four weeks drift into five. Nick turns one year old on July 22nd, but we delay celebrating until Zachary arrives from Minnesota—he has a building project to finish. When Zach flies in we feast at the Smiths with a few friends. Nick crawls and takes tentative steps, delighting us all. He is cheerful and chubby, our burst of sunshine in struggling times.

Later at the apartment Zachary and I talk. “Yes, I want to work at our marriage now,” he confides. “I know it’s best for all of us.”

“I know you’ve been with Myra,” I blurt. “You hardly wrote or called. Did you sleep with her?”

“Yes, once. But I’m done with her, and I want to try now.”

I don’t know what to say. My wounds from Zach are beyond words. He doesn’t realize the depth of agony he’s caused, the gravity of breaking marriage vows before God. I don’t see repentance. On what foundation would our marriage be rebuilt?

There was no intimacy between us. We have pleasant times with his parents and with Nick…and at the end of the week Zachary has changed his mind. “I want a divorce,” he bursts out one morning. “This is just not working. I’m not the same person I was before.”

After all the months of turmoil, the weeks of waiting and prayer I have no argument left. I can’t make him love me or serve God. I need to let him go.

“Alright,” I say slowly. “I have to figure out what to do, where to live. I suppose you’re going back to Myra.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ll just take it one step at a time.”