I instantly recognized it as the truth.
I admitted, “My heart wants him to beg me for forgiveness. Does that make me a horrible human?”
“Not a horrible human. Just human.” He shook his head. “You just need some rewiring. If you want relationships in your life to thrive, you got to operate fortheir good,not your own.”
“That’s exactly the opposite of everything people say.”
“Yep. And it’s the reason sixty-plus year marriages will die with my generation. Forgiveness, love, commitment—they’re all sacrifices. Painful ones sometimes. Folks don’t like pain.”
I let my eyes wander into Richard’s garden. How true that was. I did not like pain. And I have been through so much. That was the hang-up for me. Fear of more pain. But Richard was definitely right. Leaving now, walking away from Jack right now, would hurt too. My eyes teared up at the very thought.
I asked, “How will I know if I’ve truly forgiven Jack? I want to.”
“It’s a good question.” He clicked his tongue a couple times, thinking. “I reckon you’ll know when you’re more concerned about whether you’re loving him rightly than whether he’s loving you rightly. You’ll know when you stop wishing he’d make it up to you.”
That struck a chord in me. Had I unintentionally punished Jack for not being what I needed? Is that why I didn’t tell him about the babies? I mean, yes, it was because it was painful. But I also felt like he didn’t deserve to know. A sob pressed into my throat and I swallowed it down with a muted squeak. “I need his—his forgiveness too.”
“Then lead.”
“Lead?”
“In forgiveness. It starts with one. If you have wrongs to right, make them right.”
A moment of silence fell over us as I pondered his challenge. “I wish I was like Rose.”
“She was a woman to model. You can be. Growth happens one day at a time. Put the work in and you’ll be just like her.”
“I’m so selfish, Richard.”
“Well, news flash. You ain’t going to stop being selfish. Just got to learn to recognize it and nip it straight in the bud.” He crossed his arms across his chest with a faraway look in his eyes.
“Does marriage—loving someone—ever get easier?”
He thought for a moment, pursing his lips. “I would say there are easier seasons, but overall, no. Take it from someone who was married a long time. Love ain’t romance. It’s grit.”
Grit.
So courage and character. Two ways I fell short.
“That sounds so hard.”
“Maybe. But it’s a lot more rewarding than chasing butterflies.”
Jack’s words reverberated in my memory.
“I’m not wearing a ring because I have butterflies.”
Jack was in it for real. In it to cultivate us. He didn’t have all the tools and all the answers, but he was trying. He’d come to the conclusion that our little family was worth the back-breaking.
But it takes two.
And right now, I was the one lagging behind. The one on the fence. The one who doubted the risk would be worth it.
Jack understood something I was just now coming to terms with. A few weeks ago, he’d said, “I don’t love you enough.” He understood it was a muscle. That love would startimperfect and strengthen over time. Even Richard and Rose had to grow.
Everything in my heart and mind was falling into place. Like Richard had tipped the line of dominos. Theonething I had always wanted since I was a child—a place to belong and be loved and accepted through the worst days—was something I wasn’t willing to provide for Jack. I only wanted it for myself. I left our marriage when it was difficult.
Maybe I was more like Jack and my mother than I knew.
