18. A Silent Message

My honesty was disturbing to my husband to say the least. I think he understood or I always thought he did until years later. But at the time, he helped me by checking in on me throughout the day. His calls gave me comfort. He was supportive and understanding. Come Friday night, though, I was at Pat's. It was my only break.

We began attending services at First United Methodist Church. I was committed to finding peace for my family which meant learning how to maintain balance in every area: mind, body and spirit. I longed to be closer to God. I had a few questions. I needed to understand what was happening to us. At first I was tip-toeing around the subject when I prayed. I was careful. He was GOD and I was a sinner. I was afraid of Him. I felt like Dorothy in front of The Wizard when I prayed. My perception needed tweaking.

I loved my new church. I was listening, really listening and couldn't wait to listen some more. Savannah and Sean were in good hands in the nursery. Sean didn't tantrum as much in new places. The nursery was engaging and colorful. Besides, he had Jackie (pronounced, "Gackie") with him which was a sure fire way of knowing that everything was going to be all right! Jackie was his sidekick - a stuffed jackrabbit my parents gave him when he was born, two days before Easter of that year. Jackie was a part of our family. With Jackie tucked under one arm and a pacifier (pronounced, "paffy"), Sean seemed good to go aside from the transition from my arms to theirs. Each time was harder. Maybe if we attended every Sunday it would have made the difference. 

One particular Sunday I took him to the nursery as usual. I put him down and he stiffened and began to cry. He appeared different. Either that or I was paying closer attention. I saw him clutch Jackie ever so tightly, walk to a corner, take a deep breath and sigh. I watched him resign himself. Without a single sound I heard him say, "Nobody gets it." I didn't process it all right away. Should I stay or should I go?

It seemed like the sermon went on and on and on. I think this was the day I stopped listening.