By the time we got home from our honeymoon, we had already had so many arguments and disagreements I had lost track of how many. Some over sex, some over the kids, some over the ministry, some over some other sleight I had done or not done. While there were certain topics that resulted in more arguments than others over the years, for the most part they all had the same basic pattern. Nearly every argument and disagreement we ever had involved something that Debra was displeased by, and she decided to make that displeasure known. It might have been something that I or someone had done or said, or something that was not done or said which she thought should have been. Regardless of the case, when that point came, you either had to agree with her, or face the wrath. The wrath would involve and never ending argument, in which she insisted that she was right, and I must agree. If I do not agree, than my character is attacked, I am not “man enough”, or I don’t love her enough, I am insensitive, controlling, a bully, or any other number of accusations. It did not matter what the topic was, she had to be right, and you had to agree, or else. If the argument ended without her getting her way, in a truce or a draw, then I would pay a price by the being “on punishment”. For however many days she thought was necessary she would “punish” me with her bad mood, cold shoulder and unpleasant disposition.
Personally, I am an easygoing man, and prefer to live and let live. I don’t want to force others to agree with every thought and opinion I have, and I can tolerate a wide range of personality, likes and dislikes. I love people. I love the diversity of people, and their individuality. At the same time, I know what I believe, and I know where I stand in my own faith, and in my own life. I can tolerate those who disagree with me, but I do not feel compelled to agree with them.
As I look back, it seems so much of what we argued about was petty, utter nonsense that was no more important than a hangnail – yet became the end of the world to her. It went way beyond her dislike for the youth ministry. She actually seemed to be so very insecure on so many points that it could be unbearable to be around her, and completely unpredictable.
For instance, there was one day as we were leaving church, when she knocked over a stand of bulletins. I had bought her a new coat, and she was trying to turn a little to show it off as we were walking out, when the tail of her coat caught the bulletin stand and knocked it over. I made light of by chuckling a little and said, “I can’t take you anywhere” jokingly. At the same time a few of the dozen boys that were with us quickly scrambled to pick up the bulletins and the stand, saying “we got you Miss Debra”. I thought no more about it as we walked the rest of the way to the van and drove to a restaurant for lunch. On the way, I look over and she was sitting with her arms folded and her expression was very obviously angry. When I asked “are you ok”, she nearly snarled as she began in an angry voice to tell me how terrible I was for “humiliating her” so much with my remark. Apparently, in her mind, I had made fun of her by saying “I can’t take you anywhere” when she knocked over the stand. So much so that she was humiliated beyond recovery in front of “all those people”, and may never be able to show her face there again. In reality, there may have been hundreds of people in attendance that day, and many of them were making their way to the exits, but I’m not sure anyone actually noticed the bulletin incident, and if they did, they certainly did not react.
As silly as this reaction sounds, what makes it truly remarkable was that she could not be swayed. When I tried to assure her that no offence was intended, and that I was just trying to make light of a situation, as I always do, to ease her tension, not add to it, and that if she was offended, I certainly did not intend it, etc. etc. She simply could not be appeased. “you humiliated me on purpose” she would continue to say through clenched teeth of loathing. I had caused people to laugh at her (in her mind), and now caused all of the boys to lose respect for her, and there was no way this could ever be restored.
We went to lunch, but no amount of soothing words could bring her down. She refused to eat, and refused to speak during lunch. That is except for shooting down any overtures of peace and reconciliation I attempted to make. Keep in mind that we had over a dozen teen agers with during this time and we were the only adults. Christian adults at that (supposedly). We were there as leaders, with the God given responsibility to instill Christian character in them through our example. And this was the example she so often chose to set. I would do my best to keep it out of site, but it was impossible. By the time we finished the meal and made the 40 minute drive home, I was beginning to get angry myself. And this was also a pattern for our arguments. I would try desperately to reason through them. I would try to use kind words, and patience, all the while suffering from the vicious daggers she would throw in the form of sharp words, until finally, I could no more, and I would just tell her how utterly petty, and ungodly she was being.
Finally I would tell her to just get over it, this is ridiculous – life is way to precious and wonderful to spend it arguing over such petty nonsense. Of course this never resulted in ending an argument, but only escalated her into crying and shouting. In this case, she vacillated back and forth between tears of sorrow at her humiliation to shouts of anger over her so called humiliation. This particular argument lasted the rest of that day, with her cold shoulder punishment cycle lasting several more days. But it was far from the only time.
As I mentioned, even before the honeymoon was over, she had already began objecting to the youth who were part of my life, and now our lives. Already she was trying to shoulder them out of the way, and eliminate them if possible otherwise limit them. And, again, perhaps this would even have been acceptable if the circumstances had been different. If we had been married under different conditions, and then I tried to change things to take in these kids who consume our lives with being involved in this ministry, perhaps I could understand. But that is not the case./ I was taking people into my home years before I met her, in the name of Jesus Christ. I had incorporated our ministry years before we met. I had made a solemn promise to God, that whatever He asked of me, for the rest of my life, was already His. That there would be no asset, no property, no funds, and no time of mine that I would not commit to His service. I am sold out to Jesus Christ. I understood that my life is not my own, and I desire no other way to live. After I broke up with Jaimie, years before meeting Debra, I decided, and committed to God, that I would not even date again unless I was sure that it was from God, that it would benefit the ministry, and that the woman was desirous of such a life. I had not thought there would even be such a woman, and was prepared to live the rest of my life in celibacy if God so willed, with gladness. I made no attempt to deceive Debra. On the contrary, I made known every detail of my commitment and resolve before God, and that I did not expect her or any woman to want to be a part of it. I was fulfilled in my calling and service to Jesus Christ. I only wanted to be married if I could add to that. Of course being married had appeal. How wonderful it would be to have a mother for my kids – something I thought they desperately needed. How wonderful to have a help mate for the ministry – someone who would never leave, who would never get tired of me and walk out, leaving me with all the work, as so many friends had already done as life changed for them. And of course the idea of a companion and friend was wonderful. But I was never blinded by any of these thigs to the point of compromise. Again and again I made it so clear, that my commitment to Christ was irrevocable, and to the ministry that He called me to. Not only were these kids going to remain part of my life, but there were going to be many others, and adults, and whoever else the Lord would call us to. When she threatened not to marry me, I never wavered – I said “I understand’ I even accepted the ring back once, and returned it when she repented. She came back the next day claiming she had prayed, and God had changed her heart and she wanted a life with me and these youth. How I regret believing her, but I did. She was only saying what she had to say to get me hooked. But I never wavered in being truthful with her. And under those circumstances, I believe that the war she waged after we married to try to get rid of all the kids, and so many others that God had in our lives, was absolutely evil. Looking back, I cannot believe that she even has a genuine relationship with Jesus Christ. Though she may have deceived herself into thinking she is “ok”, people who do these things could never be pleasing to God, and I do not think they even know Him. Jesus said “you shall know them by their fruits”.
So, after we married, she did everything she could to extinguish the ministry and the youth. Then, when that did not work, she would repent, and claim that she was willing. I think that she actually realized just how selfish and unrighteous she was being, and had to repent. Then, we would appear to the world, and to the kids, to be a God loving couple that truly loved kids. When we were together with them, she would seem like such a loving motherly type. Sometimes we had such good times, even joyfully sharing together. Meals and trips, and outings and events, there was a lot of good and a lot to be thankful for. But then, invariably, one of them would disappoint her, act out, fail to show her the respect she was due (these were troubled youth), not get a chore done on time, etc. Then, she wanted “that bastard” as she would say, out of her home. And then the conflict came.
I always did everything I could to hide this from others. I was embarrassed by it, but that is not the reason I tried so hard to hide it. I wanted so bad to make a difference in this world. These kids needed to believe they were loved and admired and wanted and believed in. Not only by me, but by her also,. So I would always downplay her vicious criticism of them, and her verbal abuse. I would assure them that she loved them very much and just wanted the best for them. They would usually accept that, and then, we had a lot of good days also. In the public, we always looked good, she knew how to put on a front, and wanted everyone to believe she was as much a part of the ministry as I was. I have one picture of her with a kid named Spencer. In the picture they are sitting on the couch together and she as her arms stretched out and the biggest brightest smile you have ever seen, all teeth. You would think this woman was filled with joy, and had unbridled love for this kids. What you would never guess from hat picture, is that a few months after it was taken, the same boy had a crisis in his life and needed a place to sleep for the night. After I allowed him to sleep in one of the six empty bedrooms we had at the time, she became furious that I had allowed him to sleep in the bed. She complained that it took work to make the beds and wash the sheets, and they were already nice. She did not know why the kids could not just sleep on the floor so she would not have to make the bed. This argument escalated into a full blown shouting match that lasted until 4 in the morning because she actually wanted to make the kid get up at 4 AM and sleep on the floor. I refused to allow that. I told her I didn’t care if she made the bed or not, or if she washed the sheets or not, but no one was going to sleep on the floor in my house while I had beds unless they just wanted to. The boy woke up the next day never knowing of the war that had been waged for his comfort. But I could imagine myself explaining to Jesus how I could allow such a thing in my home just because my wife was a tyrant and I wanted peace. That would make me like Ahab and her Jezebel, and we know how that ended for them.
So, eventually a couple of the kids that I was close to had a need, and they came to live with us. Then two more, and so we had four boys living with us after we had been married a few months. Living with her in this setting was such a roller coaster. Some days were really good. As long as her ego was satisfied, and no one offended her, all was well. But there were so many potential offenses, that it was like living in a minefield. You never knew when one was going to blow.
Not long after we were married there was church luncheon after church one Sunday. While we were sitting at a long table with our youth, and maybe some others, one of the kids asked me “how old are you Mr. Bill?” Before I could answer, she nearly bit his head off. With a raised voice and angry tone she began to say “that’s rude! You are never, ever supposed to ask people how old they are! As she was continuing to scold the boy in a hateful manner, I was compelled to intervene. And here again is a pattern for many of our conflicts.
I already knew that she was sensitive about anyone knowing her age, to the extent of being outrageous in my opinion. And although I respected her right to feel that way about “her age”, and kept it a top secret, even when people asked, I did not at all share her obsession with age. In fact, I thought, and still think it was utterly nonsense. If anyone ever asked my age, I answered them. That is and was who I am. I can live with her being an eccentric wacko about her age if that is what flips her skirt, but I will never let her force me to become an eccentric whack job to appease her. If anyone asks her age, I would respectfully say, you would have to ask her that – but if anyone asks my age, I would simply answer the question.
In the case that day, as she was needlessly scolding this at-risk youth who had already suffered who knows how much abuse, neglect, and needless verbal assault in his life, I interrupted with a kind tone saying “it’s ok honey, I don’t mind sharing my age.” And I went on to tell him I was 38 (at that time). It seems to me that two grown adults ought to be able to coexist with differing opinions about things that are so miniscule and petty. But in every instance, not just this one, she was outraged if I did not agree with her every whim.
She immediately became incredibly hostile and began scolding me as much as she was the boy. Insisting that I have no class, don’t know how to treat a woman, have no respect for women, and even attacked my faith in God. All because I told a kid, not how old she was, but how old I was. Again and again I tried to explain that I would be glad to respect her wish to keep her own age private, but that I was not going to be transformed into such an image of vanity and insecurity myself. If I was willing to respect her position I expected her to respect my own. Nothing I said did anything to change her attitude, in fact she only escalated. The entire luncheon was ruined from there. We could not engage in any more conversation with other church members, or our youth. All the conversation had to focus on this issue, and her insistence that there was something terribly wrong with me. She would be angry and arguing all the way home, over 40 minutes, and continue the punishment stage for days. Not only that, but she was so sure that she was right about this, that for years, this would be included in her bag of ammo that she used in nearly every argument. You see, whenever there was a disagreement over just about anything, she could not keep the focus on the disagreement, at point, but would drag back up every point she felt she had been slighted on in our memory. I would hear about how badly I disrespected her this day for years to come, more times than I could ever recount. And keep in mind, the terrible offense that I committed was not in telling her age (something that I would have thought trivial) but in sharing my own age, and refusing to be hateful and rude to an innocent child who had asked me.
For the record, I no longer feel any compulsion whatsoever to keep her age a secret. As I told her on many occasions, it is actually a matter of public record, listed online at the courts with every speeding ticket she has had, among other places. She was born January 25, 1960, and is 61 years old as I write this. Why that simple fact is so threatening to her, I will never understand.
Another time, also only a few months after we had married, we had taken a group of the youth on one of her business trips to Michigan. One of the boys was a 15 year old, I had known since he was twelve and he had become very attached to me, and I thought of him as a son. His father was much, much older than his mother, and had nothing to do with him. His mother had been in prison from the time he was 4 until he was 13 or 14, and he was raised by an abusive aunt. He had an adult brother who was in prison for murder also. The kids had anger issues, and many of the older kids would exploit them for entertainment, deliberately provoking him to watch him blow, and then he would go so far that he was the one in trouble. When he began coming to our youth group, I looked out for him, and often prevented that cycle. Eventually he came to live with us.
Here on this trip in Michigan, there was a day when we took a ferry boat through the locks at Lake Superior and lake Michigan. We had parked the van and gotten out and were enjoying the beautiful day. There was a bench there that Debra and I were sitting on, as the kids enjoyed the scenery and wandered the boat. We were sitting about a foot apart, just talking and enjoying the afternoon when he came over. He saw us, and sat down between us, wedging his frame in between us as he put one arm around each of us, and with a huge smile he said “hello mom, hello dad”.
For about the space of half a second this seemed like paradise. This was my dream for life, what I had always wanted. There are few things that would have made me feel better. My heart began to swell with joy, as the kid joined us there. It was a complete picture, we were a family. Here she and I were, being a mother and a father, and making a tremendous difference in the life of this kid that life had so unfairly punished since his birth. It really was what I had dreamed being married to a Christian wife would be like
But, to my utter astonishment, and horror, before I could reply, Debra literally took this boy’s head off. She shoved him back up and out of the seat and began literally shouting at him saying “don’t you ever do that again. You never, ever come between a husband and his wife. You were trying to separate us, and that is never acceptable!!” As she continued to scold him with a raised voice and angry tone I was in complete disbelief. She crushed the spirit of this kid. After all the abuse and rejection he had experienced, in the moment he trusted us, she pounced on him with selfish cruelty. I was not only disappointed, I was also disgusted. I tried to mitigate the situation immediately, for his sake. I said kindly to her, and him “he’s ok Debra, he didn’t mean any offense”. But, as always, instead of listening to God given reason, based on love and grace, she only interpreted that as me disrespecting her, and causing he kids to not like her, since I would not support her in front of them. So, she tried to double down on her intense scolding, continuing her verbal assault, and adding me to the targets. So that I finally said clearly, “he did nothing wrong”, and “Debra, there is something wrong with you!, that behavior is inexcusable!”. This caused her to go into an outrage, where she berated me for hours (not without response) as being ungodly, not respecting woman, not loving her, and all the list of other charges that she would make over and over for all these years. Eventually things went poorly with him, but we will never know what could have bene, if only she had been willing to be half the woman God wanted her to be. She was angry with me for the rest of he trip because I did not support her position, and actually rebuked her in front of him. Never mind the fact that she did not respect my position, and had rebuked me in front of him first.