If you're married, you have a partner, and this can especially be apparent within public settings / venues. For Angie and I, one of those repetitive marital venues is church attendance. We, as a family, worship most every Sunday, and prior to the pandemic, we were also present on Wednesday nights - religiously - at Lakeside Pres.
For me, as Angie's husband, I'm a textbook introvert, therefore church attendance is an energy drain. Not a massive one, but nonetheless, a drain. As a result, I tend to be prickly / easily flustered at church because of this involuntary slow energy drain. Frankly, I resent it.
My wife is not within this same temperament camp despite her quiet demeanor, therefore church for her is a very different experience.
Hence, I'm a backseat Baptist while she's headed to the front row. She's interested in lingering after the service, in order to socialize, while I'm making a beeline to the door immediately following the benediction.
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Our return to the Reservoir in October 2013 wasn't by choice. If you've followed my writing on this blog or know me personally, you know that I was terminated from my supposed "dream job" (after only one year) within Small Town Mississippi, and that's what triggered the move back here.
Immediately, we returned to Lakeside Pres, but as such, I was a completely different man. Inside, I was despondent. All thanks to my own stupidity, and subsequently, how I'd been terminated by the CFO / HR Director of the institution (Delta State University) where I'd been employed. And it wasn't like I disagreed with their assessment relative to my breaking the college's IT policy. I'd admitted to doing that up front. No, it was the demonization that was so difficult to swallow due to how much I respected these credentialed individuals who did the deed.
The best way to describe it is as follows: my family and I were thrown off an emotional cliff immediately following my two superiors ripping out my heart and submerging it in acid. The situation was handled so poorly by these two, and I was in such a vulnerable position in tandem with their recklessness.
From there (30-45 days later), I recognized that I was essentially an emotional rape victim who'd subsequently been impregnated with a sense of worthlessness that had deeply rooted itself within my soul.
Whilst looking back, I see now that the timing was perfect for Satan to execute a massive assault on my soul via the idol I was bowing down to daily - my ever important dream job. Suicidal thoughts eventually landed me in Don Waller's office (10 months later) and the Samson Society group he was then facilitating back in 2014.
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Angie's ischemic stroke occurred on May 29 of this year. She was hospitalized - alone - for a week prior to an extended stay within a rehabilitation hospital. She was 49 when it occurred, and had no other health issues prior (other than general anxiety disorder). The stroke damaged the portion of her brain that controls her left side (arm / leg), therefore walking / using her left arm immediately became quite the challenge.
She lost some weight during all of this, but even then, she really wasn't overweight by a large amount.
What she's faced with today is continued rehabilitation via twice weekly outpatient sessions, and the progress she's made has been miraculous. Nonetheless, she still walks very slowly and carefully. Also, getting dressed, for her, is tough. Stepping off or up onto a curb is tough. Washing dishes is tough. And on and on. All physical activity for her now is tough to do.
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Angie's presence as my wife was critical to me being able to face the world immediately following my termination from my dream job at DSU. Had she not been there, I'd likely never darkened the door of Lakeside Pres again - after our move back to the Reservoir. Unlike me, Angie had no shame relative to what had gone down, and though she couldn't relate to my Internet porn issues, she deeply respected my struggles with same sex attraction and all the complications that came with it.
I can vividly remember back in late '13, sitting next to her in Sunday School at that little church. This was soon after we'd returned, and I was frantically typing journal entries on my smartphone throughout the entire lesson. It was as if the Holy Spirit was using that sweet little Presbyterian congregation as a spiritual conduit. I did the same amount of digital journaling during worship services Sunday after Sunday after Sunday for months on end. What I discerned was incredibly helpful relative to not only where I was at emotionally but how I might begin to emerge.
And all the while, Angie was there by my side. Never once complaining about my obviously distracted state of mind and the embarrassment I likely caused her by not paying attention in the least (remember we were typically seated on the front row).
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I wish I could admit to being just as supportive of her today as she faces her own disability - post-stroke. For her situation is far more serious than mine ever was. Not only has her physical health been impacted but her emotional health as well. There's been a lot of tears shed this year by my sweet Angie, and a handful of those sobbing sessions have been initiated with outrage. Angie's not one to throw objects, but screaming isn't out of the question. As you might imagine, this whole affair has left a distinct impression on her by seeding anger and disappointment, not to mention fear relative to a follow up medical emergency.
Considering all of that, when it comes to being in public, especially at our church, she's now dependent on me and my girls to monitor her entry / exit from the small campus. Initially, this was due to her being so easily fatigued, but now it's moreso related to her fear of tripping up and losing her footing. Despite the fact that she walks really well, she can't feel too much of her left foot, therefore she's had to learn how to walk by paying attention to what she can feel relative to the movement within her left knee. Hence, her decidedly slow pace and concern regarding falling down.
So, in many ways, I'm now sort of my wife's Silas. Literally. Always there to keep an eye on her whereabouts and how exactly she's traversing from place to place. It's a privilege. I do feel as if I'm showing her off to everyone (which is a familiar Samson Society feeling, now that I think about it).
The other part of this Silas / Paul analogy is how dependent on me she now is due to her disabled state relative to having the confidence she again longs for.
In closing, I've been so privileged to serve so many men in Samson Society as their Silas over the past 6+ years. How cool it is to have received the needed experience / training to now do so for my sweet Angie. Especially considering the original matrimonial role model (her) I had / have to follow today.
