we had promised not to make any major decisions without consulting each other.
“Mike, I’m so sorry!” Hastily I told him about my conversation with Chandler Daniels and my new plans.
My tongue went tingly from the sheer speed I used to get the words out and from not taking any breaths. I reminded myself of the commercials where the voice reads the fine print at warp speed.
To my surprise, he said, “I’m sorry too. At my session with Donna, she asked what next step I wanted to take. I told her I just wanted to go home. She said she’d asked you the same question, and you said you hoped I’d just show up on the doorstep one day.”
We stared at each other for a moment. Then he said the magic words, “Here I am, if you’ll have me.”
He reached for the pizza just as it started to slip from my hand. He set it on the credenza, and then reached for me.
Stepping into his arms, I released my anger and confusion, and gladness flooded the place they vacated. For the first time since the abortion, no one else’s expectations mattered. I set my love for him free.
No more holding back. From now on I was going to give him one hundred percent of me.
Relief tried to sneak into my heart. I let it.
Chapter 9
Jonica
“What did you do for Mother’s Day?” Stacie asked.
I don’t remember all I said, but I let things fly I never intended. A lot of it was anger and the leftover residue of pain held on to for far too long. I even told her about Della and Bernice.
After she left, I got scared. “What if she never believes in God because of my outburst?” I asked Ben. “What if in my anger I sinned?”
His response surprised me. “She needs to see the real you—the whole woman. True friendship demands honesty and the freedom to share your life experience—even the hard stuff. It’s part of who you are. You don’t need to protect Stacie from you.”
I chose not to listen to Ben’s words of wisdom and instead continued to anguish over my behavior. I hated letting her see my unhealed wound. It was one thing to listen to her struggles, but I was the Christian, the victorious one. How could I put the garbage in my life on display like that?
Ben saw the determined look on my face and knew I wasn’t done fretting. “Jonica, no one comes to Christ because of you. God is working these things out in Stacie’s heart. You are His instrument, but you cannot save her. It’s also possible she won’t believe if you aren’t transparent with her. By not letting her see all of you, your relationship will always be surface level. If you keep this space in your life away from her, she may always see God as distant too.”
After hours of worry I called her.
“No. You didn’t sound wimpy or whiny,” she assured me.
Then in typical lawyer fashion she asked, “So what did Ben do for you today?”
“How did you know?” I sniffed.
“It’s his way with you.”
Her confidence in us gave me courage—maybe I hadn’t ruined everything. Tears burned my eyes as I remembered his gift to me and his declaration earlier in the day.
“Good morning, my love—Happy Wife’s Day!” On the card he gave me, he’d whited out the word “Mother’s” and had artistically drawn in “Wife’s.” Then he stepped back into the hall to get something. He brought in a tray with cinnamon sugar bagels, walnut honey cream cheese, and coffee.
On the tray rested a rectangular box. It held a new pen, my favorite brand. It wasn’t the pen—although thinking back I know he meant it to re-affirm his faith that my writing was a vital part of me. This went beyond a material gift. His sweet act of marriage carried our relationship around a new corner. I took ownership of the fact that I was Ben’s first choice for all time. No more doubts about us. In its place, the truth filled up the whole in my heart as I believed both God and my man loved me.
And yet later the same day I gave a great big blues bash in my honor in front of
“Mike, I’m so sorry!” Hastily I told him about my conversation with Chandler Daniels and my new plans.
My tongue went tingly from the sheer speed I used to get the words out and from not taking any breaths. I reminded myself of the commercials where the voice reads the fine print at warp speed.
To my surprise, he said, “I’m sorry too. At my session with Donna, she asked what next step I wanted to take. I told her I just wanted to go home. She said she’d asked you the same question, and you said you hoped I’d just show up on the doorstep one day.”
We stared at each other for a moment. Then he said the magic words, “Here I am, if you’ll have me.”
He reached for the pizza just as it started to slip from my hand. He set it on the credenza, and then reached for me.
Stepping into his arms, I released my anger and confusion, and gladness flooded the place they vacated. For the first time since the abortion, no one else’s expectations mattered. I set my love for him free.
No more holding back. From now on I was going to give him one hundred percent of me.
Relief tried to sneak into my heart. I let it.
Chapter 9
Jonica
“What did you do for Mother’s Day?” Stacie asked.
I don’t remember all I said, but I let things fly I never intended. A lot of it was anger and the leftover residue of pain held on to for far too long. I even told her about Della and Bernice.
After she left, I got scared. “What if she never believes in God because of my outburst?” I asked Ben. “What if in my anger I sinned?”
His response surprised me. “She needs to see the real you—the whole woman. True friendship demands honesty and the freedom to share your life experience—even the hard stuff. It’s part of who you are. You don’t need to protect Stacie from you.”
I chose not to listen to Ben’s words of wisdom and instead continued to anguish over my behavior. I hated letting her see my unhealed wound. It was one thing to listen to her struggles, but I was the Christian, the victorious one. How could I put the garbage in my life on display like that?
Ben saw the determined look on my face and knew I wasn’t done fretting. “Jonica, no one comes to Christ because of you. God is working these things out in Stacie’s heart. You are His instrument, but you cannot save her. It’s also possible she won’t believe if you aren’t transparent with her. By not letting her see all of you, your relationship will always be surface level. If you keep this space in your life away from her, she may always see God as distant too.”
After hours of worry I called her.
“No. You didn’t sound wimpy or whiny,” she assured me.
Then in typical lawyer fashion she asked, “So what did Ben do for you today?”
“How did you know?” I sniffed.
“It’s his way with you.”
Her confidence in us gave me courage—maybe I hadn’t ruined everything. Tears burned my eyes as I remembered his gift to me and his declaration earlier in the day.
“Good morning, my love—Happy Wife’s Day!” On the card he gave me, he’d whited out the word “Mother’s” and had artistically drawn in “Wife’s.” Then he stepped back into the hall to get something. He brought in a tray with cinnamon sugar bagels, walnut honey cream cheese, and coffee.
On the tray rested a rectangular box. It held a new pen, my favorite brand. It wasn’t the pen—although thinking back I know he meant it to re-affirm his faith that my writing was a vital part of me. This went beyond a material gift. His sweet act of marriage carried our relationship around a new corner. I took ownership of the fact that I was Ben’s first choice for all time. No more doubts about us. In its place, the truth filled up the whole in my heart as I believed both God and my man loved me.
And yet later the same day I gave a great big blues bash in my honor in front of
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