These last few months have been a real bummer in our marriage. Not exactly the uplifting words you’d like to see? Me either. But it’s the truth. At the moment.
My husband was experiencing severe fatigue, and after a bunch of tests, it seemed perhaps his meds needed to be lowered. These would be the meds that keep him from going into inner or outer orbit, mood-wise. When my husband gets off kilter, his perceptions get distorted and he feels I am targeting him, disrespecting him. Actually, it’s the reverse. And it’s bad. SOOO, my protective husband explained to the doctor that we (marriage wise) were doing really well and he did NOT want to jeopardize that. I thanked Jesus as I heard those insightful, sheltering words. My dear man was doing what he could, while clear headed, to protect me. It’s been a long journey to get here. We all discussed this quite sanely, in the doctor’s office, and then proceeded to start the experiment.
I’m thinking, of course, “we’ve gotten pretty good at this – I’ll just give a little bit of feedback, if needed, we’ll course correct, and that’s that.” Although, I know, from experience, that if I miss that little window – where he’s off course, but still able to absorb my input – the only way he’s going to figure out things are not working, is when the plane crashes and burns (our marriage). But hey, sometimes there just aren’t any GOOD options….
Of course, during this, there was this huge deadline at work piled onto the daily international drama … and then two major holidays, lots of travel, and somewhere in the mess, it got harder and harder to connect. I tried the usual “reconnect” relationship stuff – (you cannot BELIEVE how many marriage seminars we’ve been to) — And I said the various things I say, like, “Hm, wonder if meds need changing?” I jumped up and down to force a bit of time off for the holidays. I tried to rule out everything else (including my own stuff) before confronting him with the dreaded words: “Honey, I think you are a little hypomanic.” Too late.
I bet there’s not a bipolar out there who wants to hear those wing-clipping words, and who LOVES the person saying them. At these times I feel like the ground crew at the airport, trying to wave off the crash landing of a jumbo airliner –“Flight 29 Heavy, wave off!” (and let’s just be clear – anytime the head of the home crashes, it’s jumbo size.) Once the crash is over, and they clear the debris, there I am, a greasy spot on the runway.
If there was a window back there, I missed it. Let’s just say, there’s been a partial crash landing (yes, it can be partial) and the fire trucks are rolled out, pouring water on the flames. God’s family has been my dear medics, bandaging my burns. Of course, we will go back to the original med doses, and reconstruct. I’m not a cussing woman, but here’s where I’d cuss if I did.
After sobbing for a few hours last night, I rolled over this morning. My Bible was lying next to me, where my husband should’ve been this last week. All I could moan was, “I gotta have a WORD from You.” It was open to Isaiah 25.
“I will give thanks to Your name (no, I’m not there yet)
for You have worked wonders (no “wonders” around here),
plans formed long ago, with perfect faithfulness. (this is “perfect”??)
For You have been a defense for the helpless (yes … that’s true, I am helpless to stop this … but it’s true, You have defended me before),
a defense for the needy in her distress, a refuge from the storm, a shade from the heat…(“yes, yes, yes, yes” to needy, distress, storm, heat)
He will swallow up death for all time (even death of my dreams), and the Lord GOD will wipe tears away from all faces. (that’s an intimate, tender visual – You close enough to my face to use Your fingers to personally wipe away my streaming tears)
And it will be said in that day (which can’t come soon enough), “Behold, THIS is our God for whom we have waited that He might save us. THIS is the LORD for whom we have waited….”
Is 25: 1, 4, 8, 9