Sunday, September 26, 2010

Till Death...

There are miracles afoot. 

What does that mean exactly? simply means that when something beautiful comes out of something that seems looks like a miracle to me.  Right now...there are miracles afoot.

I've always had what anyone would consider to be a very honest and extremely loving marriage.  For just about 16 years, in spite of all the hardship, I would have been willing to bet that I knew just about everything about the man I was sharing my life with.  He's a very forthcoming man.  An open book. 

I just hadn't gotten to all the chapters yet. 

It makes sense to me that there were things going unmentioned.  I've been teetering in an apocalyptic place for years now.  Life and Death.  Death and Life.  Writing in pain.  Agony.  Unable to see....or hear.

But, in a marriage like ours, the truth will out.  It's too painful to keep parts of the self away from your best friend.  Much too painful.  Destructive.

For the past several years, I've been having a recurrent dream.  I am in a very large house, and I know my family is there somewhere.  I keep looking, but I can't find them anywhere.  I start running from room to room, faster and faster.  I can't find them anywhere.  I usually wake to that dream covered in sweat.  I used to tell my husband about that dream, and we would chalk it off to liking our small house.

But my dream was telling me something, and my husband knew it. 

There were rooms in my home I didn't know about.  Hidden from my view to protect me.  Hidden from my view in the hopes of avoiding more pain directed to me.  Because of a deep commitment to our love. 

How strange it is to find oneself caught in a lie.  In all honesty, a lie that should never have been told.  A lie that didn't need to be told.  Oh what a tangled web one weaves....

I look back at the past several years in which that lie lived all alone....hiding from me. 

I look back at the lie...and forward into the truth, and all I can do is take that lie in my arms...comfort it...hug it....tell it that it o.k. to be in the light...that I can love the truth...and in loving that truth, nurturing it and showing it that it doesn't need to become a lie to exist in the world.  .  .

In being able to take the hand of the husband I love and look him in the eyes...and know I see truth there...I have found a treasure trove of beauty that has been waiting to emerge. 

The truth will set you free. 

There isn't anything I can really come up with that can't be forgiven when holding the hand of the man I love.

I can see that lies were told.  In fear.  In desperation.  In hopes of the ridiculous transference of an inner child telling oneself that "mommy" will never understand.  Well....maybe MOMMY won't, but....I'm not mommy.  I'm his wife.  And I understand.  I have enough room for this in my pile of issues to integrate.  I have enough space in my heart to accept that no one is one. 

True, I thought my guy was "perfect".  He was afraid he had failed me. 

What he is finding instead is that I still find him to be perfect.   Perfect for me.  The perfect husband, lover, friend, partner....the perfect balanced man.  Whole.  For the first time. 

I can see all the rooms in my house now.  There is a sign over the door that reads "Open your heart and leave your worries behind.  Honesty lives here."

We've always told our children that telling the truth would never be punishable. 

My husband has told me the truth and in that truth, I have found a garden within my marriage that is bursting forth in full bloom.  And all the flowers are for us. 

I always knew my husband was my best friend....and now, he knows I'm his too.  He knows I'm strong enough to hear him.  Willing to love him in spite of...because of....everything.  

The truth can be painful because we think we know what "should" be...and when the truth differs from the frame of sends some into chaos mode.  Working through the pain and tears has been worth it. Finding balance and re-building trust is our tryst.  

We are worth it.

More than worth it.


  1. What a beautiful post...thank you for sharing.

  2. WOW, Sara, what a powerful post! I love the sign above your door... "honestly lives here". That is so beautiful... and accepting. Honesty isn't always pretty or easy to take, as you know, but it is imperative! Love to you, friend!



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