Using the mall restroom
has never been the same. Not since that day in June of 1997; three days out of
high school and barely eighteen. The instructions said results would take a few
minutes, but those bright lines gave no breathing room. Instantly they screamed
the truth I refused to believe- your.
life. is. over.
And then it was THAT
LADY. The one dressed in fancy clothes voicing my options and encouraging me to take the easy way out. She was the professional;
she knew more than me. Consumed by the unknown, my head spinning in a fog,
baring nothing but worldly wisdom, confusion, and dread, it happened.
Perched side by side,
eyes piercing the wood planks of my bedroom wall, it was time to have our first
real conversation. Neither wanted to accept it. Neither knew how to address the
issue that would forever change our lives. I attempted strength, but strained
voice and dampened cheeks betrayed me almost instantly:
“James, I’m pregnant.”
“Well, you know what I want to do.”
I dreaded hearing what
he’d want to do. I feared the worst- termination. But he threw me completely
off my already unstable foundation.
“I want to get married.”
Married? Did he really
just say THAT word? He wants to marry ME? We’d barely been together six months!
Six months. Half a
year. Hardly enough time to talk futures and expectations. He was the sweet one-
the type your girlfriends confide in; the one they called 'teddy bear' and shared
struggles with. This was the guy I asked to prom on a foolish, drunk dare. The
guy I never imagined would be father of my child; wearer of my ring. It was all
so far from romantic.
A simple country
wedding in a small A-frame church. Wearing hair plastered high and a deceptive white
gown, I slowly treaded that shag red carpet. We stood eye to eye- me in satin
slippers, he in shiny rented shoes. His uncle recited the words- words heard
wedding after wedding:
"It is not good
that man should be alone; I will make him a helper comparable to him… Therefore a man shall leave his
father and mother and be joined to his
wife, and they shall become one flesh… Therefore what God has joined together, let not man separate… And I
now pronounce you husband and wife…"
(Genesis 2:18,24, Mark 10:9 NKJV)
We made promises to
each other and to a God we didn't know. We danced to country love songs, feasted
on homemade dishes, and opened Tupperware, cookware, silverware, and glassware.
It was all so surreal and sudden. It was all so necessary in the mind of an
eighteen-year-old, because when you get yourself pregnant, wedding bells are
expected and inevitable. I did things
wrong, and I would make them right.
On August 16th,
1997 the wayward Jehovah’s Witness, and the naïve people-pleasing-teen walked
down that isle, exchanged overpriced rings and meaningless vows, then attempted
to play ‘the happy married couple with a
bald, yet beautiful new baby.’ Most mocked and questioned our future.
Have you any clue what
a stubborn teen does when doubted and ridiculed? She fights back and she fights
hard. Once a carefree, vibrant, loving-my-life-teenager, now a married mommy
coping unsuccessfully with fat rolls, dirty dishes, piles of
soiled-puked-on-laundry, and a husband I barely knew. I refused to be the next
statistic. However, as desperate as I was to prove them all wrong, my good intentions were nothing more than
exhausting failures.
AND IN MY WEAKNESS, HE IS STRONG. AND IN MY FAILURE
HE IS GLORIFIED. AND IN MY DOUBT, HE IS FAITHFUL. AND IN MY DESPERATION, HE IS
DESPERATE FOR ME. MY GOD IS A JEALOUS GOD!
He used faith full
followers to reveal a faithful Father. He turned an unwanted pregnancy into a
welcome eye-opener. This Mommy heart was head-over-heels, smitten, infatuated by
a babe who could do little more than eat, sleep, and need me. Through soiled
diapers and sleepless nights, He showed me the affection of a Savior toward
imperfect children. It was in the ugly, the dirty, the difficult that I saw a
beauty full God.
I was given a Bible and
an invitation to fellowship. It was a tiny body with wide open doors and even
larger hearts. I was drawn to women having something I didn't; something I
craved. They were lights illuminating the way to the only One who could right
my wrongs: Jesus Christ.
He beckoned me. He lavished
me with His presence exposing sin and offering grace. He was patient, yet
persistent. He washed me in His Word,
in His blood, and in His overwhelming love. He led me to repentance and to
prayer: prayer for forgiveness, for my daughter, and for my Jehovah's Witness
husband. And then He called my husband
to Himself; to the true Jehovah God, and the living Jesus Christ.
"Wives,
likewise, be submissive to your own husbands, that even if some do not obey the word, they, without a word, may be
won by the conduct of their wives, when
they observe your chaste conduct accompanied by fear." (1Peter 3:1-2 NKJV)
In 16 years of
marriage, we’ve experienced uncertainty as our time as missionaries expired,
doubt as foster children happily returned to bio-parents, and fear when our
home schooled kiddos were thrown to the wolves. We’ve had seasons of fruit, and
seasons of drought. We’ve known abundant blessing and sudden loss. We’ve stood
strong and fallen weak. Through it all, one thing has remained- WE. We are His, we are each others, we are
vessels, and we are a work in progress.
The question was no
longer- What good could possibly come
from a wayward Jehovah’s Witness and his naïve-people-pleasing wife, but
rather- What would God do with the
willing heart of weak vessels?
Your. life. is. over. I may have been young and lost in a world of apprehension.
I may have been over dramatic and self focused, but those words rang truer than
I could have ever known.
My. life. was. over. Because He was calling me into death and offering New Life. A life of surrender. A life
of love. A life of service. A life of blessing with my best friend and husband.
Not approving of my
choices, He approved of me. Despite His hatred for my rebellion, He adopted,
redeemed, saved, and sealed me with His Holy Spirit. I am His, and I choose to
honor Him with my life and my story; His story.
