Lesson: What "Charity Suffereth Long" Does not Mean

 Recently, I attended a board meeting for Hope on the Hill 2023, an annual event free for Veterans to give Hope and Healing.  The question was discussed about how do we help reduce suicide in Veterans.  The Veteran and his wife  attending our meeting felt they had the answer:  "We need to get them talking about what no one is talking about."  

"And what is that?" Was the obvious response.

"Abuse."

"What kind of abuse."

"All kinds of abuse.  Drug, alcohol, verbal, physical, emotional abuse.  It's there and no one is talking about it."

As the discussion progressed the couple shared that their personal experience of losing more than one friend to suicide or suicide attempts was that the spouse announced that she was done dealing with the issues and that the veteran pulled out a gun and pulled the trigger.

This comment struck too close to home and suddenly took me back to the Summer of 1994.  

I had been married to my first husband for almost 7 years by that time.  I have chosen to call him Brennan to protect the innocent and the guilty. 

We had a very rocky first couple of years of marriage, followed by couple years where I thought he had grown up.  At least he didn't lock me out of our house, put holes in walls and doors with his fists, or break dishes in a fit of anger any longer. And he had told me the co-worker that he had been spending more time with than I found comfortable with was done with him.

After what felt like a long-enough time for it to stick, I decided I was okay bringing children into our previously unstable marriage.  My only son was born in the June of my Junior year of college while working on my Bachelor's Degree in Communication Disorders.  I graduated two semesters later.  

I had struggled with low blood pressure and passing out during my pregnancy and I knew I did not want to be pregnant again during school.  I also wanted a sibling for 1 year old Steven, so rather than waiting until I had graduated with my Master's Degree, I opted to take a year off before pursuing my graduate degree and got pregnant with daughter #1. 

When I was 7 months along with Daughter #1, I got a huge wake-up call.  It was after 10pm.  Brennan was watching the nightly news.  I was exhausted, but it had long ago been established that unless my police officer husband was working night shift, we went to sleep together.   So as Brennan was sitting on the far end of the family room, of our multi-level home, I came to the stairs and asked, "Can we please go to bed?"  I'm sure that frustration and exhaustion was in my voice due to my pregnancy and the time of evening.  

John looked at me in obvious anger as he threw the remote control across the room at me, it bounced off my ankle and hit the wall under the handrail.  He then stormed across the room and grabbed me by the arm pulling me up the stairs to our bedroom.  I lost my footing as he headed to the master bedroom. That didn't stop him.  He continued pulling me up the stairs.  Things did not improve.

A couple months later my due date had come and gone and I was still pregnant.  Our son had arrived before my due date, and the painful Braxton Hicks contractions were driving me batty.  I had been feeling sorry for myself one morning when I decided I needed to do something to get my mind off of my huge abdomen and the baby that wouldn't come.  I decided making manicotti for lunch was the ticket.

I made the ricotta filling and then put the water on to boil.  About the time the noodles were to go in, my 21 month old was clearly in need of a nap.  Brennan was sitting in front of the computer in the family room.  I asked him to turn off the pot of noodles when the timer went off so that I could get our son down.  He agreed.  When I came out after reading a book (our normal nap and bedtime routine) I went to the kitchen to finish getting the food assembled to go in the oven.  To my dismay, the manicotti noodles were still in the pot on the stove, but the water had boiled dry and the pasta was ruined.  

I walked to the family room to see Brennan still sitting at the computer the way I had left him 15 minutes earlier.  My exact words to him were, "Thanks for your help."  Brennan's response was to start yelling and swearing at me.  As I attempted to explain my frustration, he grabbed the wall hanging next to him, ironically a "love knot" - a rope looped and tied in a knot with flowers and ribbon attached - and threw it at me, hitting me in the head.  With that, I grabbed my purse and headed out the door.  Brennan picked up the rope and threw it out the front door after me.  It landed on the front lawn.  I drove away.  Oh how I wished that I could go into labor and deliver my baby on my own.  I stayed away for a couple hours before deciding I had no where else to go, but home.

At that point, I still believed that divorce was wrong.  I was well familiar with the definition of "Charity" found in 1 Corinthians:

 

Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. - 1 Corinthians 13:4-7.

It was some time after the birth of Daughter #1 in 1993 that we were visiting my in-laws.  The people that I knew at the time appeared to be very good, religious, loving parents.  I was thumbing through one of their church magazines and came across an article entitled, "Charity Suffereth Long." 

As I read through it, I came across a part that stood out like a 1000 watt lightbulb as I thought of all the prayers I had offered as I prayed for deliverance from Brennan's wrath.

"If charity is not always quick to our understanding, it may occasionally be quick to our misunderstanding. It is not charity or kindness to endure any type of abuse or unrighteousness that may be inflicted on us by others. God’s commandment that as we love him, we must respect ourselves, suggests we must not accept disrespect from others. It is not charity to let another repeatedly deny our divine nature and agency. It is not charity to bow down in despair and helplessness. That kind of suffering should be ended, and that is very difficult to do alone. There are priesthood leaders and other loving servants who will give aid and strength when they know of the need. We must be willing to let others help us." - Alene Clyde, Second  Counselor General Relief Society, October 1991 General Conference.

 This was one of my lightbulb moments where the way I had understood a concept was turned on its head.  I had grown up with the idea that if you married you kept your vows.  Up until now, I had 100% believed that divorce was wrong under any circumstances and that if you just tried hard enough, just loved enough, then you could make any marriage work.  

The idea that God did not expect me to allow myself to be abused in any way,  was the beginning of the end.  Maybe it's best that we start at the beginning.