Last night I wanted so much just to say to Harold, “God loves you. He wants you to be free from depending upon alcohol to get you through the day. He forgives you. He wants to fill you with His joy and His peace. You are His child.” I tried for maybe ten minutes after we went to bed to say this but the words wouldn’t come. Then finally I was able to say in a tone of voice that was not self-conscious Marcy’s usual tone of voice, “Darling, I want to tell you something but the words won’t come.” He replied in a sort of angry tone, “Just go to sleep.” Then I said, gently, “It isn’t criticism.” He didn’t respond. That was rejection, based on misunderstanding — he’s so used to my saying something critical (of his drinking usually) whenever I preface it the way I did last night.
But what I wanted to say had built up inside me so long that I began talking silently to his spirit — my spirit talking to his — then the thought came. “Could it be the Holy Spirit in me speaking to his spirit?” A very humbling thought. This is the only way just now that I can communicate with him — we block each other when either of us tries to verbalize feelings and thoughts.
I knew a little of the hurt of Jesus, my Lord, when Harold cut me off. (It is still hard for me to think or write “my Lord” because I don’t feel — can’t depend on feelings, remember that! — He isn’t really my Lord yet, not completely — but I want Him to be and I believe now that He knows that and honors it.)
Dear Father, give me the mind of Christ toward Harold as I pray for him. Thank you.