Helping Each Other Heal

Helping Each Other Heal

Each heart knows its own bitterness, and no one else can fully share its joy.

Proverbs 14:10

On my (Leslie’s) parents’ thirty-fifth wedding anniversary, our family suffered a meltdown.

Dad was a well-liked pastor, low key and hardworking. Under his leadership, congregations grew and deepened their faith. His ministry was marked by serenity, a rich investment in relationships, and a nonflashy style of teaching and preaching. But after what must have been a strained and eerie anniversary dinner, Dad told Mom a secret he had been keeping for months, disclosing a decision no one would have predicted. After thirty-five years of marriage and ministry, he was calling it quits. Dad was having an affair, and he didn’t want it to end. The next day he turned in his ministerial credentials, moved in with his secretary, and walked away from his former life.

Devastated, Mom was left alone to pick up the pieces. Though in fragile health with severe diabetes, she had always been faithful, invested in her marriage, and obedient to God. She had been a committed partner in ministry and never imagined that adultery would shatter her world.

Neither did I. Disbelief and shock are the only words to describe the reaction Les and I had to the news. Our shock turned into anger, followed quickly by concern for my mother’s survival. She had lost her marriage, the parsonage, her income—everything.

The crisis consumed me. I could think of nothing else. We went on with our lives, teaching, writing, grocery shopping, watching television, crawling into bed at night, but what had happened would not leave my mind. How could Dad leave? I asked again and again. This goes against everything he ever taught me! Doesn’t he see the incongruity of his decision? Questions like these pummeled my mind. One day I cried for eight hours without stopping. That was several years ago, and even today the healing is not complete; on occasion the same questions pierce my stillness, and the tears flow freely.

Les never had to ask me what I was thinking; he knew. He patiently listened to expressions of my breaking heart. He absorbed every painful and ugly feeling he could. Even months later, when there were days as dark and tearful as the first one, or when I just couldn’t decorate our home for Christmas because of painful memories, he never panicked or demanded that I pull myself together. He held me gently, listened, and gave me comfort.

No matter how caring Les was, I still felt alone. He can never fully know the pain of my heart. “Each heart knows its own bitterness.” But given time, marriage cuts our personal pain in half. And even when it seemed impractical and indulgent, Les gave me time to heal. This gift brought a balm of understanding to my spirit.

In times of pain, remember that you can be a gift of healing to one another.

Healing rain is a real touch from God.

—Michael W. Smith