Chapter 36 - Rocking Chairs & Christmas

I am so comforted to have Nick with me in our small home. He toddles around smiling and energetic, pulls on my leather boots, climbs into the lower kitchen cupboard. Each night after his bath we sit on the couch and read a simple Bible story. And we pray. He loves the story of the Good Shepherd finding the lamb. Turning to the picture of the Shepherd carrying the lamb home on his shoulders, we cheer together! I’m surprised how much a 15-month-old can understand.

Jean, a Christian single parent offers to babysit Nick during my evening shifts at the hospital. Her children play with Nicky…and when I pick him up at midnight, he is ready to tuck into his crib. After he’s sleeping I make a cup of tea and sit in bed with my Bible.

“Lord, I feel so alone. But your Word says you meet those who look for you. So I know you are here. I look for you, and even if I never see you, I know you’re here.”

I read scripture, look up and talk, and listen. And once in a while I see Jesus…compassionate, patient, loving. Later I turn off the light and ask for six angels—one at each corner of the property, two by Nick and me. I know they are there.

Leota now has a women’s Bible study. As I attend, I form new friendships with Priscilla and Loretta who are single parents like me. Slowly I adjust to the strange paradigm that is my new life. I am used to long-term vision, but in this season I live week to week. If Zach divorces me, I cannot become a fulltime mission worker with the Alliance. Maybe I could join another mission organization…but right now I need to survive until Mom and Dad arrive home from Irian Jaya. Six long months away.

One day I decide to drive west to Ebro and pray with Bonnie. I know she lives right next to Myra, and Zach is living there now. But—God can help me. I worship in my prayer language most of the way to the tiny hamlet, past Zach’s car in front of Myra’s house, and carry Nick into Bonnie’s cozy home. She hugs me. “Good to see you, Marti. How have you been?”

“I need to pray together, Bonnie. I need strength to keep going.”

We share over coffee, then intercede at length. For our families, Zach and Myra, work for Buck. We praise and do spiritual warfare. I leave stronger, keep praying all the way home. God’s grace is enough. Jesus is my High Tower, he is Victory.

Three evenings a week I drive the 18 miles from Bagley to Fosston Hospital to be charge nurse of the evening shift. The doctors and coworkers are kind and sympathetic—they know of my separation from Zach.

One evening another friend and I attend a charismatic Bible study in Bemidji, led by some college students. I ask for prayer at the end. Circumstances have changed, and now Zach is working in St. Paul. “Zach my husband and I are separated, and he works in the Twin Cities, but every weekend he drives up north to live with his girlfriend. Each Saturday and Sunday I feel this tug at my heart, this grief I can hardly bear.”

“You need to cut a soul tie to Zach,” the leader explains. “We have soul ties to many people, but between a husband and wife this connection is especially strong. When this is cut, you’ll feel more freedom.”

I begin to pray, to cut the soul cord, but break down weeping. I am in pain.

“We need to pray first for the Lord to heal your heart,” the leader says gently. He prays for me, along with others, and inside I distinctly feel healing! In a few minutes I speak out and break this strong soul tie, in Jesus’ name. Later, driving home, I feel free, whole. I am married—but not broken or crushed over Zachary. And I continue to pray for him to return to the Lord.

The weeks roll on. The leaves on the red currant tree outside the kitchen window turn gold and red and fall off, leave red berries for the birds to eat. Each morning I have a quiet time with the Lord, make a plan for the day to go out and have coffee, visit someone—unless I’m working that afternoon. I try to fight bitterness and depression by controlling my thoughts, having a schedule. Mostly it works.

Occasionally Zach does stop over to see Nick, takes him out for a few hours. It’s hard to get emotionally back on track after that…and Nick cries more the following couple days. When Zachary visits I sometime reason with him, try to use charm…but nothing moves him toward me. He has started divorce proceedings, he says, but agrees to delay them until my parents return home in early summer. They want to talk to him in person.

The most difficult part of the day is dinnertime—when men come home to hug family and sit down for a good meal. I decide we will dine with Jesus. When the food is on the table, I sit facing the window and the red-berried tree outside, with Nick to my right in his highchair. At right angles is Jesus’ place. Lighting a candle to symbolize his Presence, the loneliness dissipates. Jesus dines with us every night….he fills the emptiness.

The days grow colder, I buy Nick and me new coats. I find a cranberry red jacket trimmed with fur on sale, and Nick a dark green one, also furred. We play in the snow, throw snowballs, laugh!

It is now December, and Christmas is coming. In between working I plan small gifts for friends, for Nick, mail off packages to family. Zachary is now in Arizona visiting his parents.

Jesus is now my Center…what can I give him for Christmas? I ask about it over tea, sitting in bed one night.

“Why don’t you give Myra and her three girls my present,” He answers.

I consider. “Well, your Word says to love your enemies, and do good to those who despitefully use you. I’ve been praying for her. I would need your grace. At least Zach isn’t there right now.”

The Lord seems pleased with my answer.

So a few days later I buy three dolls for the girls, and a jewelry box for Myra. I wrap them with paper and ribbons, and one evening drive to her cottage, knocking on the door shakily. Myra opens the door and light reflects on the snow-covered front step. She looks surprised.

“Hello…these gifts are for you all, from Jesus, Myra.”

“Thank you.” She is almost speechless. “Thanks a lot.”

I hand them to her. “Merry Christmas!”

I drive off to pick up Nick, relieved, happy. The gifts are given to Jesus, in his name.

I can feel the Lord’s pleasure. My cup of joy flows over.

A friend from church cuts small Christmas trees for Priscilla and me, and I decorate ours with Nick’s help in the corner of the living room. “What a change from last year,” I think to myself. “In the parsonage Zach and I were spiritual leaders, happy with a new baby. Now I’m a single parent, coping…glad that I have to work Christmas afternoon, so I won’t feel so alone.”

With the lights and ornaments the little tree looks both scraggly and winsome—a Charlie Brown tree. I buy Nick a rocking chair to put next to my rocker near the tree…and hide it in the closet for Christmas.

Christmas Eve arrives, and Nick and I feast with Josh, Leota, and others. It’s a large table of friends and extended family, with some Scandinavian specialty dishes everyone raves over. I feel awkward…I so want to be near my parents. I miss them terribly. But—thank the Lord for friends who love me!

Hugging Leota goodbye, I stop at Priscilla’s house and we exchange gifts over tea and cookies. Eventually I arrive home. “What is Zach doing now,” I wonder? “Does he miss me and Nick? If only I could drop in on my parents and share my heart with them in Irian Jaya.” I put Nick to bed and give him a blessing.

Finally I sit on the gold couch, with just the Christmas lights on. “I’m here, Lord. I know you see me, you care. You are my Husband. I’m lonely, but I know you are enough.”

I wait. His Presence fills the room. Looking near the lighted tree I see he is here. Sitting in the rocking chair near the tree, looking at me. Regal and humble, Jesus…in white robes, with compassionate eyes. He understands. Everything will be alright.

He fills Christmas.

He is Christmas.