Sunset in the Rear-view Mirror
Sunset in the Rear-view Mirror
Driving home from work late one night, I couldn't help but
notice it was almost dusk. I was headed North, and driving right
along with the setting sun on my left. With a slight headache,
my thoughts drifted through the day at work that was over. I
work at a domestic violence shelter, and it seems one can never
know from one moment to the next what to expect. As I drive home
at the end of the day, it is not unusual for me to think of my
life, and all the changes that have come about. I once was the
victim of domestic violence, myself. I was never beaten. I was
threatened, had things broken, yelled at, but these were not
something I could easily identify as abuse. I'd always thought
abuse was hitting; a physical pain. The sky was slowly darkening
and the feathery wisps of clouds turned to pretty pastels. I
continued to keep one eye on the clouds as I watched the road
and let my mind wander. I often had tried to reason with my
husband. He need not yell. I could hear what he was trying to
say. I just didn't always agree with him. Did we have to think
the same way about everything? Was that what it meant to be
submissive, I often wondered. I usually acquiesced. He was the
head of the household, I was the wife. That was my role. He
plowed ahead, I tried to follow. Often I felt put-down and
betrayed; the butt of his jokes. He actually seemed to enjoy
putting me down, but my own husband wouldn't do that, would he?
He loved me! I must be the cause of our problems. Sometimes he
used my ideas and passed them off as his. If it was my idea, how
could it be right? Silly me, I was the stupid one. It was just
easier to agree and go along, than fight. I wanted peace at any
cost. I didn't know it cost giving up myself. But no one else
seemed to notice, no one but me. And life had been so promising.
I'd been a good student. I hadn't made many of the mistakes my
classmates had made. I thought I was steady and a common sense
thinker, but why couldn't I do anything right in my marriage?
Our three children were not the butt of his violent temper, I
was. As long as it was directed at me, it didn't hurt them, did
it? My car left the freeway, and I was now headed in the
opposite direction of the beautiful sunset that was transpiring.
I hated to leave the florescent sky behind, but my trip must
continue. I was headed home. Home now, was not with the man I
married. After 16 years, I'd left him, unable through counseling
to find any way to reconcile our miserable marriage. When we
went to the pastors and counselors, I again was the 'bad guy'.
By this time I was convinced that he didn't love me. I realized
how evil he had really been. My family was devastated by the
divorce. No one in our family 'divorced'. It wasn't done. My
family's shame was almost worse than the bad marriage. But there
were secrets that even they didn't know. I tried to explain, but
I couldn't bring myself to relive the details. If they wouldn't
trust me, I was on my own. Couldn't anyone understand? I learned
to live with that pain, as well. I had never felt so lonely. It
had been 7 years since the divorce, now. Home was an 80 year old
farmhouse on a beautiful country road. I was remarried, now, to
a peaceful soul like myself, whom I learned I could trust. We
worked together on our home, remodeling, landscaping, building.
We were constructing more than a house - a new life. My family
was more understanding and my kids had weathered the rough years
of the divorce, much as our farmhouse had weathered the winds of
time, and they were doing very well. A big lie, I'd learned was
'staying together for the sake of the children'. My children had
now learned that everyone deserved respect, even Mom. All was
peaceful, again. I traveled through the little town I live near,
and headed home. Almost home. I'd learned what marriage was
really all about. As head of the household, a man was meant to
lead, but not bully or push - not manipulate, threaten and
criticize. He was to be someone who could be respected and
honored; a man of character and commitment. No matter how much
pain a person has endured, we have a choice to let that pain
control us. Power and control meant nothing to a man who was
committed to 'love as Christ loved the Church'. My husband was a
gentle shepherd, not a drill sergeant. Not far from home, I
climbed a hill and suddenly was stirred out of my reverie. A
brilliant sunset, more brilliant that any I'd ever seen shrieked
at me from the rear view mirror. The vibrant oranges and vivid
pinks held me spellbound. I rounded a turn at the top of the
hill and pulled to the side of the road. With tears streaming
down my face, I witnessed God's awesome creativity at work. I
also knew exactly what He was trying to tell me at that very
moment. While I was going through those hard times, He knew what
I didn't. He knew that one day I would look back and see the
brilliant master plan. He didn't put me through the abuse, but
he used it to create a masterpiece - one I couldn't see at the
time, but only when I looked back on it, after the passage of
time. I'd weathered the storm and He was right there with me all
the time. I was never alone. I sat for several moments, drinking
in the beauty of the incredible sunset that night. I eased back
on the road and rounded another bend. That sunset followed me
all the way home in the rear view mirror just as God had never
left me alone. How nice to be home.
Sheryl Simons