From the honeymoon there was trouble. We had dated for 3 years and I thought we were close. I thought I knew him. What I found out is that we could not communicate at all. Neither of us had a clue how. Neither felt safe to open up to the other. We drove the entire trip home from Big Sur in silence. It was painful. You think when you love someone and have been with them for years that you know them. When we were in our 40's I finally realized I didn't know his heart...I only knew what I saw or created in my mind. We lived upstairs from his parents in a little apartment. He took a job one day a week as his mother's driver. His parents did not like me at all and so most of the day she spent trying to convince him to leave me. It made our relationship difficult. There were good times though. We really did love each other.
I was wrong about him going to church with me. I went alone. Eventually I made some wonderful friends and served in callings that were very fulfilling. But I could see I would not be sealed in the temple any time soon. I suppose I withheld a portion of myself because it hurt.
We had our first child. A son who brought great joy to our lives. Having a child made me see that when I had made the decision to marry out of the temple that decision didn't just affect me, it affected my child and perhaps generations. I was terrified but determined to live worthy of Father's guidance and help. I was determined that my children would be taught the gospel and would be faithful.
I remember walking my son in his stroller and contemplating how long I would stay with my husband without a temple sealing. One day I decided I would give it one more year. But the years passed and nothing changed. There were difficult and devastating trials and there were fun, happy times. It seemed that Father wanted me to stay.
We had our second child 2 and 1/2 years after our first. A daughter. I watched him hold her tenderly. I hoped this would bring a change of heart. Having a family made him worry endlessly about his responsibilities and his ability to support us. He worked for an airline and, in the summer, as a lifeguard at the beach. We were doing ok. There were struggles, but there were good times too. Our children brought us much joy. But no temple sealing. I continued to attend church without him and did my best to teach our children the gospel.
The years went by. We moved to Salt Lake City and built a home. A month after we moved in he lost his job. Our neighbor, a very outspoken but tenderhearted man, offered him work in his lathe business. It was difficult work but the joy for me was that this man came to love my husband and was not afraid to teach him the gospel.
My husband began attending church with us. Eleven years after we were married we were sealed to each other and to our children. He served in the church, we had family prayer, we attended the temple together. I felt that there was something missing in his conversion. But to his credit he really tried to fit in to what he considered the mold of a good LDS husband and father. Life was pretty good. We were happy.
I went back to college to finish my degree and graduated in 1989. I began teaching high school that same year.
Our son left on his mission in November of 1990. Our daughter graduated from high school in 1992. Our daughter was getting ready to start college and had her own life though she lived at home.
It was much more devastating for me when our son left on his mission that I could have dreamed. I mourned! I missed him so much and it really messed with my identity as a mother. I felt as though I had spent my life as a mother and now my son was ripped from my arms. Who was I now? It was hard. But I was grateful he was worthy and wanted to serve a mission so I began to feel some measure of peace. But I did miss him.
Teaching school was very difficult for me. I loved my students but found the whole experience to be very draining. I slipped into depression. I didn't even notice that when my husband came home at night he went straight to bed without a word. How long had that been going on? I was exhausted and would come home and lay on the couch after work or serving in my church calling in Young Women. I had taken on a part time job at Nordstrom.
So it was September 20, 1992. I had made a bed on the living room floor for he and I because our water bed had sprung a leak. The bathroom was being remodeled so our toilet was on the landing in the entry hall. The tub out in the yard! It was homecoming and our daughter did not want her date picking her up in this mess so she spend the night at my mother's house. All of this should perhaps have been a portent of what lay ahead.
The night before the ward clerk had called to see if my husband and I would give the prayers at church the next morning. I told him we would. When my husband called I told him. He said nothing.
He woke me up the next morning. "I called Jack to tell him I wasn't going to be able to give a prayer today" he said. At that moment my blood ran cold. "Why?" I asked him.
"From inconsolability it's a short distance to bitterness." Neal Maxwell.
I had no way to be prepared for what came from his mouth next. I probably should have seen it coming, but I didn't!
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