Mary
Had she written her book
She would have written:
He is love. How his eyes
Followed me when I cooked
When I cleaned. How he waited
To be curled around my arms.
He was love. Ask no more of him
Than this – this is my commandment.
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W
This is my excerpt with regards to W.
Why he is under God and not just under every day occurrences.
The best way to explain W's involvement in my life is as follows:
My X husband and I were still sexual involved in January of 2013. We were trying to work on our relationship but it was apparent to both of us that it was not working - perhaps more apparent to me. One day in February of 2013 as I was driving down a country road on my way to another court house – I came up with the idea to set out my ideal man: ideal that is in occupations and education. I also set out the prerequisites for his physical appearance over six foot, good arms, nice hands and non-blue eyes. In short I asked God for my ideal man.
My X husband and I were still sexual involved in January of 2013. We were trying to work on our relationship but it was apparent to both of us that it was not working - perhaps more apparent to me. One day in February of 2013 as I was driving down a country road on my way to another court house – I came up with the idea to set out my ideal man: ideal that is in occupations and education. I also set out the prerequisites for his physical appearance over six foot, good arms, nice hands and non-blue eyes. In short I asked God for my ideal man.
However, I knew that I would never be ready to find my ideal man if I continued to yo-yo back and forth with my x husband. So being the attorney I am - I coldly calculated a plan to sever my relationship with my ex-husband. Because sex is something I controlled and used to control – I decided the best thing would be to find a man to act upon and sever the last connection my ex-husband and I had – our exclusive physical entanglement.
W was my plan for my extraction.
I met W at a prearranged coffee date close to my office downtown during Fiesta Season. I had thought his cat on a leash picture funny on Match but what made me agree was his blatant arrogance in his profile.
A week before meeting him my dog, Oreo, of 15 years had passed away. Two weeks after meeting W, my father, step technically, passed away. I tried to forget my plan. But my x husband unintentionally made my life intolerable. I say unintentionally because I truly believe he did not do what he did out of malice. He just didn’t understand death and its effect on neuro-typical individuals. S, my x-husband, understood life ends and he understood that I disliked my step- father tremendously. S failed to understand that my dislike was not as strong as my love for the only man I ever considered my father. In short the week of my father’s funeral – my ex-husband went on a week long business trip. I was left with our two small children, an active law practice, a grieving widow, two bipolar brothers, one old dog still alive, my Oreo being cremated and of course a funeral to plan and go to alone.
I called my in-laws a few days prior to the funeral to ask their help in watching the children on the night of the funeral. They had no idea my father had passed. My anger towards my x-husband was building.
The day prior to the funeral I texted W because he kept calling and checking up on me. I wrote “you can say no” and he texted back “or I can say yes.” I asked him to the funeral and he came. He was on time and was highly concerned that he had no suit to wear. At seeing him, I almost decided to do away with my plan. His concern over my father's odd funeral gave me pause. My father's funeral was filled with jokes, piano music, sax, and old inappropriate stories. He learned more about my youth in those moments that I had ever disclosed to many: being poor, moving around, jokes, tons and tons of jokes. He relaxed a bit and was even glad he had not worn a suit - although he felt that the occasion should have been a bit more revered.
At the reception that followed I received a text from my x husband wanting to say prayer with the children. I lost it. He forgotten it was the night of my dad’s funeral, he had forgotten all about it. My resolve to destroy mine and my x husband's last entanglement was set in place: I left the reception with W and gave him a blow job – out of sheer anger and hurt.
Two days later and several steamy texts between W and I – I set my plan in motion to strip whatever connection my x husband and I still had. My anger and despair had reached its limits.
The first time with W – I realized I had no control. It had been 19 years since I had sex with anyone besides my x husband. I tried to recall the necessary persona and it almost went as plan but I met the most incredible dog named Aboo.
Aboo was beautiful. He was a white German Sheppard with a personality all of his own and yet similar to my Oreo’s. Any fear or trepidation I felt entering a stranger’s house dissipated when I met Aboo.
W. took my hand and we went into his disheveled bedroom. It felt odd, surreal. I told my self – once this is done I can move forward. So I did and the most strange thing happened at the end – he shook uncontrollable. I learned he suffered from aftershocks so severe that he curled into a ball. Something happened to my persona as I watched a six foot, 225 pound man curl into a ball – I had no choice but to wrap my arms around him.
His surprise at my reaction led him to hold me after his shocks. His hold on me, Aboo at the bed side, and a little white and orange cat named Jersey who fell asleep on my hip - destroyed the persona I had tried to revive.
However, two days after sex with W. I returned to his house. I was ready to break it off and say good bye and start my move forward to finding my true love.
As I entered he directed me to his kitchen table and I sat. He then excused himself and went into the garage. He returned with frames in hand. One was his bachelors of science in mechanical engineering, another his Marine plague of service, and the third was his masters of science in electrical engineering with minor in computer science. I sat there.
Each ideal that I had so carefully laid out for God – W presented to me and he said “see proof.” I had not told him yet about my requests to God that would come a few months later. Instead I sat there in fear. God had heard me - and like W - God had shown proof: down to the non blue eyes. W's eyes are hazel with tinges of green when angry and blue when laughing.
I had sex with W again. Not because I had planned it or even wanted to but because of the enormous guilt I felt on what I had asked God for and what I was throwing away, yet again, by reverting back to what I was before I had pushed my deep blue eyed man out the door so many years ago in my early 20s.
W and I are going on four years now. We have had every fight imaginable. He has cheated on me, he has left me, he has given me his pets, respect for my advice and knowledge, and he has given such love. Love I did not know I wanted. Intimacy – I had not felt since my deep blue eyed man.
W has a lot of faults at times: he is narcissistic, depressed, ill tempered, rude, arrogant, fearful. Many have asked me why stay?
I try to explain: at first it was my guilt of using God's answer to my prayer as a commodity, this answered prayer, however, increased my faith in God. I am at a loss on how to explain: W's growth as a man, his courage, his loving and gentle nature to those who can never repay him. In short W, through his actions, taught me the intangible. I have grown more in patience, love, understanding, and hope.
I love W. And he may never return and regardless I love him.
God taught me that.
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God:
My question: how do you know who to send when?
I am a true believer of God. I believe not through faith and not through the law and not through any religion. I believe because of his love for me.
Below is my excerpt on how God entered my life before I could even understand the concepts mentioned above. I am saddened when I hear that all must accept God or they will not be saved. We are all saved – our acceptance is secondary and our gift to God.
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I can still recall the dream I had when I was four in Mexico. God and/or one of his representatives told me to run. He yelled and I was paralyzed. He then stared at me, turned and shrunk and took off running. I ran after him over tables, through walls, he never turned back to check that I was following but I can still recall the white of his clothes always visible and just out of reach.
When I awoke – I ran away. And each day someone had to go searching for me because I would not stay in my Grandmother's house. It got to the point that eventually my mother who was in the United States got wind of my actions and came to take me away. No one ever asked why I ran; see everyone knew my grandfather's appetite for the young. I do not blame my very young mother. Her life was even more horrid than mine which is why she ran. I do not blame my Grandmother her face and body have the scars to prove that she tried to protect her young.
I recall the beatings, the anger, the smell of cheap liquor, the insatiable glaring, the pulling and pushing and the unending threading of movements I was forced to comply in and witness.
I followed God’s commandment – I ran and I ran and ran right into the arms of men that were further in appearance, temperament than him who had hurt me. The men that entered my life including my ex husband were quiet clean men with blue eyes. Their stature thin and tall and their hands firm and not small. Each man had to be cleaned shaven and moderate in spirit. Sex was something I controlled and I used it to control.
I write this because God has a way of clearing away the past. See my use of sex was wrong. It was sending me down a wrong path. So God sent to me a man with the deepest blue eyes I have ever known. He was quiet and quirky. The thought of his smile still sends quivers through me.
God sent this man to me to show me what I was becoming – something to use. It was a hard lesson. Had it been any other I would have laughed it away. But his deep blue eyes sent me an intolerable message of what my actions had done to him and what he thought I was about. I was not. I had not run from hell to become that which my grandfather had me do. I pushed him out my door and along with him the baggage of my childhood. See I was no longer a child – nothing and no one would ever take what was mine. I would not give just to give.
I do not blame my deep blue eyed man; I thank him because if it was not for him I would have continued down my path of wrong ideals of power, feminism, theories, and sexual promiscuity. I would have spent thousands in therapy, countless hours in self pity. Instead with that push out the door, I shut out the screaming, the pain, and the intolerable memories of what occurred to me as a child. I think of my deep blue eyed man often and I am angered on why it had to be him to teach me this lesson.
After the push out the door, I started onto another path, the one that led me to this blog, for see I married the next blue eyed man that came through my door. My ex husband’s blue eyes are the brightest and clearest I have ever seen.
He asked nothing of me. But he gave of his time, his knowledge, and his ever endearing movements. I was his first. In hindsight we were both too young to marry and we both married for the wrong reasons. He married me for fear he would never find another. I married him for fear I would.
I am of the belief that God sends people into our life so we can help each other. Sometimes, he sends his representatives in human and/or spiritual form to awaken us. I am humbled by his love. In my work I see many women, men, and children in dire straits that faced the same evil I did as a child. I believe God sends me to them to help in their spiritual as well as legal battle. To remind them that they too are saved and no rhetoric is needed.
In short my belief, my life is his. The fact that God sent to me my dream at the age of four before logic or understanding of theological concepts or even wisdom was formed proves his existence. Thus even though I question why – I can never question his role in my life: for I can still feel and almost reach the white of his clothes. It is amazing. And because of this amazement I work harder for his Glory.
I am saved because of his Love: no religion, no faith, no law, no scriptures, no saints. And so I am at peace with my son’s diagnosis and his involvement with God. My son looks at a Cross and says “t”, and he, like his father, will reach the white of God’s clothing because God is love.
