War Room (17 page)

“Lord, Tony has a long way to go, but You’ve given him a desire to work hard and I thank You for that. Thank You that he does care about us. I’m going to choose to look at what he’s doing rather than all the things he’s not doing. Thank You for helping me see that today. I pray You’d bless him today and help him do his job well.”

This was the kind of thing that was beginning to happen. Rather than her heart being turned away from her husband, it was drawing closer to him.

She called Jennifer’s mom to tell her she was heading home, and Sandy offered to drop Danielle off there. It was raining hard when Elizabeth made it home and pulled into the garage. She asked Danielle where Tony had gone and she said something about a call from his boss.

There were dishes in the sink and some things still left on the stove. The garage door clacked. “Oh, I hear him,” she said.

Danielle stared at the book she was reading. “He wanted to see my journal.”

“Did you show it to him?”

She shook her head.

“Why not?”

“Because there’s stuff in there about him. Things I’ve been praying about and asking God.”

“What are you asking, sweetie?”

“You know. That you two would stop fighting. That he would be able to spend more time with us. That he would . . .”

“That he would what?” Elizabeth noticed that Danielle was wearing her
Love
shirt, the pink one with purple sleeves and the word spelled in glittery letters.

“That he’d become friends with God again. It seems like they used to be friends, but now they’re kinda not.”

When Elizabeth could speak, she said, “I think that’s a really great prayer.”

She sat next to Danielle and opened a magazine. If Tony hadn’t eaten before he left for work, he was probably hungry. She could make him an omelet in a few minutes. When he didn’t come inside right away when the garage door went down, she wondered if there might be something wrong with his car. Or maybe he was on his phone with the mystery woman from Raleigh.

She closed her eyes.
No, Lord, I am not letting my mind run that direction. I am going to trust You and hold on to You rather than think the worst.

Tony walked inside and immediately went toward the bedroom.

“Hey,” she said warmly.

He didn’t respond. Not even a nod or a grunt. He just walked right past them into the bedroom.

How do I look at this positively?
she thought.
Lord, does he need me? Should I go in there or just leave him alone?

She thought of something Clara had said to her. “You start treating him the way he wants to be treated, not the way you feel loved. Tony is a man and sometimes you have to switch things around. You start loving him that way and you’ll show him your heart is turned toward him.”

When Elizabeth went through something difficult, she needed to be alone, to shut the door and take a bath or a nap or read. Just get away from it all. But at least in the early days of their marriage, Tony had needed to process the ups and downs of life together. He vented. And she didn’t do well with the venting
 
—it scared her. Maybe she could change things up a little.

Deciding to take the chance, she walked through the open bedroom door. “Tony?”

He had his back to her, unpacking his satchel on the bed. She could tell from his demeanor that something was wrong, but she couldn’t see his face. Was there fire in his eyes? Had she done something?

Before she could ask, he spoke. “First off, I don’t want any grief from you, okay?”

Now he turned and looked at her, his muscles tight, his face full of anger or hurt. “Because I’m really not in the mood to talk about this right now.”

His level of anger shocked her. What could have happened? She collected herself and, in a tone as conciliatory and caring as she could muster, said, “Tony, what’s going on?”

He pulled his tie off like it was a noose around his neck. “I just lost my job.” He slammed the tie on the bed and went back to his satchel.

Elizabeth took a breath and tried to stay calm. She couldn’t imagine what the meeting had been like
 
—was it a layoff at the company? Was he fired for something else? It didn’t matter. What mattered was, her husband was hurting. He was probably asking a million questions about the future.

“Okay. So we’ll just do what we gotta do,” she said, trying to sound measured and in control. Reassuring.

“What? No sarcastic comment?” he said. He had that look on his face, that bewildered, what-did-you-say? scowl.

“Tony, I think we’ll be fine.” She said it with all the confidence she could dredge up. At that moment she wasn’t sure they would be fine. But she had to give him something.

Tony turned, his face twisted in anger. “Liz, you heard me, right? I just got fired.” He threw his head forward to put an exclamation point on the sentence. “So that means no income, no company car, no health coverage. We can’t even afford this house anymore.”

There it was, the stark truth. Her mind whirled and she rubbed her neck, trying to think quickly. “I understand. Listen, I’ll just pick up some new properties while you look for a different job, okay?”

Tony stared at her, a blank look that seemed to hold them both in disbelief. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna roll with it?”

“What else am I supposed to do?”

Tony studied her eyes a moment, then turned his back and kept going with the satchel. “Sometimes I don’t get you, Liz.”

Elizabeth stayed quiet. What could he need from her? What happened to the inside of a man who’d had everything he based his life on pulled out from underneath him? Yes, she was scared. Terrified, even. But if God was for them, if God was watching out for both of them, what could this job loss do? Wasn’t He bigger than this problem?

Yes, He was. She couldn’t say that right then, of course. It wasn’t the right time or place. But it was true. And part of her wondered if, just maybe, this whole situation, whatever it was, could actually be used for good in their lives.

“I’ll go start dinner,” she said.

The chopped peppers and onions. The omelet. She would make that for him. She would just do the next thing, take the next step. What else could she do?

God, please help me love my husband right now and be strong for him. Help me trust in You and not what I can see. Help me not lean on my own understanding. Help me not panic but fully trust.

The phone call came late that evening
as Clara was getting ready for bed. She was sitting at the table in the living room, going through the book of Philippians, when Elizabeth called to share the news of Tony’s job loss. Clara listened and closed her eyes and prayed a silent
thank You
to God. She had been through this type of thing too many times not to give thanks.

“I’m proud of you for responding that way to your husband,” Clara said. “It shows God is working in your heart
 
—and Tony noticed the difference, didn’t he?”

“He sure did,” Elizabeth said, her voice cracking.

“I’m going to say something that will seem a little strange at first.”

“Okay,” Elizabeth said hesitantly.

“Sometimes the best gifts God gives us are not the easy times when everything goes our way. The best gifts are the hard times when your life is reduced to a couple of good questions: What is this all about? Why are we here? Sometimes it’s a diagnosis. Sometimes it’s a slamming door when someone you love walks out. Might be a bill you can’t pay. And at first you think the answer will be healing or that loved one returning or a pile of money that drops right out of heaven. Now I’m not against healing. I’m for it. And I’m for reconciliation. If God opens up the storehouses of heaven and rains down hundred-dollar bills, I’ll get out a basket and gather them like manna.”

Elizabeth laughed, though Clara figured tears were running down her cheeks at the same time.

“But here’s the thing I’ve discovered after walking with the Lord a long time, Elizabeth. God is not interested in making me comfortable or happy. His goal is to make me holy, like His Son. And I’ve never met a follower of Jesus who hasn’t encountered some suffering and pain. God doesn’t tell us to pick up a memory foam cross. It’s rugged and it’s heavy. You can run and try to find some easier way, but eventually He leads you through the thorns and briars and that valley of the shadow. But I promise you, if you trust Him, He will lead you to green pastures and peaceful waters. Not just when you get to heaven, but right now. Peace and contentment in the middle of the storm. In the middle of the disappointment and fear and anger.”

Clara let the words sink in. She could hear Elizabeth’s gentle sobbing on the other end of the line.

“You take heart now. Be encouraged. The bad times are really the good times in disguise. And I’m going to get down on my knees tonight and ask God to break through. God is walking with you, Elizabeth. Don’t you forget that.”

“I won’t, Miss Clara.”

Tony was in the dark
when he heard Elizabeth’s voice, distant but clear. She was in trouble. He stood, struggling to see where he was
 
—a warehouse? There were boxes and containers around the dimly lit room and some kind of hazy fog. He ran toward her voice but seemed to go the wrong direction. He switched to his right, then back again. The closer he came, the more fear he could sense in her voice.

He spotted a corridor and then, across the way, he saw her. White shirt, gray jeans, and standing over her a hulk of a man in a black hoodie. He sprinted toward them as the man took a swing and knocked her to the ground.

Nobody did that to his wife! Nobody hurt her like that!

With every ounce of strength he had built up over the past years, the weight training, the workouts, the basketball games and jogging, Tony sprinted toward the two. He would just take the guy down. He would sail into him and tackle him like a defenseless quarterback who didn’t have the sense to know there was a linebacker ready to flatten him.

“Tony!” Elizabeth shouted. “Please, help me! Please!”

His heart beat faster and his legs felt like lead. What was she doing here, in this place? What was
he
doing here? She struggled to get free from the man, but he was too big, too strong. Was it the robber in the alley? Had he found her and brought her here?

“Tony! Please! No, no! Tony!”

The man loomed over Elizabeth, his back to Tony as he rushed forward, gaining momentum, the bile fueling him as it rose inside. The attacker raised a hand to hit his wife and Tony couldn’t believe it. Why would anyone attack Elizabeth? Why would anyone want to hurt her?

Tony flew at the man and, instead of tackling him, turned him around with every ounce of strength he could muster. Then he pulled back in horror. The man standing over Elizabeth, the man who had thrown her down, the man who was ready to attack her again . . . was himself. He was looking into his own menacing face. Tony couldn’t believe it
 
—couldn’t process the vision before him. How could this be?

Before he could react, Tony felt his air constricted as a hand gripped his throat and squeezed. It not only blocked
the air, but his grip was so tight, the blood flow lessened and he was in danger of passing out. Struggling to get free, Tony desperately tried to pull the hand away. When that didn’t work, he tried to throw some punches, but they were weak and ineffective against the force that was now focusing on him.

Somehow, with a turn of the head, Tony spun and threw a ferocious punch that landed squarely on the man’s face. The two fell to the floor and struggled, the attacker gaining the upper hand and getting on top of Tony. The man punched again and again and Tony was helpless
 
—he tried to protect himself, tried to block the man’s fists, but each time a punch landed, he heard a sickening crunch. There had to be blood everywhere.

In the dim light, the attacker
 
—the other Tony
 
—drew his right hand back and prepared to throw the killing blow. Silhouetted against the scant light in the room, the man let go and Tony closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the pain, waiting for the impact.

The impact came on Tony’s shoulder. He awoke startled, on the floor next to the bed. His whole body shook from the dream. He looked down and noticed his legs were tightly wrapped in the covers, a sign he’d been thrashing and turning in his sleep.

What in the world was that?
he thought.
It was so real.

His heart rate felt like he’d just run a hundred-yard dash. He told himself to calm down, it had only been a dream, but
the feelings wouldn’t subside. He had been the one standing over his wife, hurting her. He had thought she was calling him for help, but she was just trying to get him to stop. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t shake the image of the other Tony throwing Elizabeth to the ground and attacking her.

He struggled to get out of the covers and stood, letting his heart rate settle. It was light outside. How long had he slept? He glanced at the clock, which read 7:14. He tried to remember the night before
 
—he’d fallen into bed, physically and emotionally drained.

Elizabeth wasn’t in the bedroom now. He wished he could talk with her, see her
 
—just make sure she was okay. Maybe the dream was some kind of warning? Maybe she was being stalked by the guy who had jumped her in the alley? But the guy in the dream had been himself.

He noticed something taped to the mirror over Elizabeth’s dresser. A note in Elizabeth’s handwriting. She’d always had the neatest writing. He remembered the handwritten notes she used to send him and the feeling it gave him to see his own name written in her hand.

Went to work early. Can you take Danielle to practice at 10:00? Liz.

Tony looked at his face in the mirror. He flexed his jaw
 
—it almost felt like a punch had landed. But that was crazy. It was only a dream.

He went to his closet to find his gym bag but it wasn’t
there. He tried to think where he’d put it last and wandered into the living room. He hadn’t left it in the car, he was sure of that.

Danielle sat at the kitchen table crunching her favorite cereal, Coney Bombs, and reading the box. It was one of those generic brands that mimicked the national brand but was half the price. They were going to be eating a lot of that from now on. Her journal was open and on the couch across the room. What was it about that journal that had captured her? It was probably a phase she was going through, like the expensive doll phase and the expensive toy horse stage with the expensive toy corral and the barn that cost more than a real barn. It hit Tony again that he didn’t have a job, and who would hire somebody who had cheated his employer? There would be no more expensive dolls or horses in that house.

“Danielle, have you seen my gym bag?”

She looked up. No
Good morning
or
Hey, Dad
or anything like that. She just said, “No, sir.”

Her words troubled him, but he shook off the feeling and wandered back to his bedroom, trying to recall his steps. Maybe Elizabeth had put the bag in her own closet. She was always tidying up, moving things around so the house would look less cluttered.

He opened her closet door and froze, staring in bewilderment. Instead of all her dresses and blouses and jeans and scarves and sweaters and the collection of shoes that rivaled some queen in a far-off land, it was empty. At first
he thought she’d moved out. It was the first step in her leaving him
 
—that’s where his mind went.

Then he saw the pillow on the closet floor and the Bible. The only things on the walls were taped notes. He thought they were to-do lists, things she might need to get done at work or around the house. Then he examined them a little closer and saw that they were names
 
—and there were Bible verses written on the notes with phrases underlined and words circled and highlighted.

He’d seen movies where a main character discovered the secret life of a spouse. Or a husband or wife had gone off the deep end mentally and written crazy stuff on papers they kept in a shed in the woods. Was Elizabeth losing her mind?

As he studied the content of the messages, he began to think differently. It almost looked like some spiritual game plan by a coach who wanted to win against a rival team. Or a strategy of how to win a battle in a war he didn’t even know was raging.

One of the notes had Danielle’s name at the top of the page.

I pray that you would give her a spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of Christ. I pray that the perception of her mind might be enlightened so she would know what is the hope of His calling, what are the glorious riches of His inheritance among the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of
His power to those who believe, according to the working of His vast strength.

 
—EPH. 1:17FF

There were other verses and prayers for their home, their finances, people in the community, friends, and extended family. There was a page marked
Cynthia and Darren
, and underneath a prayer for their marriage, their finances, a job, and wisdom for the future.

Tony knew Elizabeth was a spiritual person. She took God seriously, but he’d never seen her this serious. And the change in Danielle’s spiritual life had obviously been her following Elizabeth’s lead.

He leaned down to the note taped closest to the pillow, right at eye level if you were kneeling. He read the words in his wife’s handwriting.

Lord, I pray for Tony, that You would turn his heart back to You. Help me to love him, and give him a fresh love for me. I surrender my rights to You as Lord and ask You to bless him as he honors You and to expose him if he walks in deceit. Build him up as the man You intend him to be. Help me to support and respect him. I ask for Your help to love him. In Christ I pray.

Tony stood there, stunned. It was like looking inside someone else’s soul. He felt almost ashamed, like he was
looking at something that was supposed to be hidden. If Elizabeth could open his closet, see inside his soul, what would she find? What notes had he been stashing? He hadn’t told her about why he’d been fired. He hadn’t told her about Veronica or any of the old flames he’d thought about contacting on social media. A comparison of the closets of their hearts showed a stark difference.

Tony studied another sheet on the wall. It was like a shopping list of people and prayer requests, and some of them had been checked, as if already answered. Cynthia had received help from a church. Elizabeth and Danielle had grown closer in their relationship. Her desire for God had grown stronger. But there were several other requests that were left unchecked.

Tony to come back to the Lord
was at the top. Under that was
That our marriage be restored
. Those two items stopped him for a second. Elizabeth hadn’t nagged him about much of anything the past few days. She’d become quieter. When he revealed the news about his job loss, she had been supportive instead of lashing out or accusing. Was that partly because she’d been praying so much?

Miss Clara’s house to sell.
That was one of the most practical requests on the list and the one that seemed most likely to be checked next. All that had to happen was for Elizabeth to find a buyer in order for that check to go on the paper. The others . . . well, he wasn’t sure how any of those about him and their marriage could be checked.

Tony heard movement behind him and turned to see Danielle at the bedroom door holding his gym bag.

“Daddy? I found your bag next to the washing machine.”

“You can set it right there,” he said.

She put the bag on the floor and started to leave.

“Danielle, when did Mama do this to her closet?”

She thought a moment. “Umm, a few weeks ago?”

Tony turned back to the words that seemed to float around this space. The day before he had thought seriously about ways he could end his life and give his family financial stability. They’d been fleeting thoughts, of course. Tony was a fighter, and he wasn’t going to give up. Not yet, anyway. But he wondered if there was something he hadn’t considered. Was there a different way out of his problems and the hole he had dug? Was there a possibility that God could forgive him and give him a second chance?

“Daddy, are you going to take me to the community center?” Danielle said, breaking his train of thought.

He showered, dressed, and made breakfast. Danielle was ready to go and sat on the couch writing in her journal while he ate. As they drove to the community center, he thought again about his dream and shuddered. The feelings it brought were too close to the bone and the soul.

The community center was a beehive of activity with kids and parents. Several girls practiced their double Dutch routines, where two people swung two ropes and jumpers navigated the middle. Tony had jumped rope in training
and he was pretty good at going fast, but this was another level of coordination, timing, and teamwork.

“What time does your practice end?”

“At noon,” Danielle said.

“I’ll be back to get you then,” he said.

Jennifer ran to Danielle and the two walked over to their team. Tony scanned the center and saw Michael in his blue paramedic uniform. He was filling something out at the front desk.

There were so many things swirling around in Tony’s brain and his default was just to keep it to himself, protect himself, hold it in. But Michael was the kind of guy you could talk to and not feel . . . well, judged.

“Michael?” Tony said.

“What’s up, man?” Michael said. “What are you doing here?”

“Dropping Danielle off before I head to the weight room. What’s up with you?”

“I’m renewing my membership. Then I’m getting my coffee and hitting my shift, bro.”

Tony thought a moment, fighting the battle to step over some unseen line in his mind
 
—the line between vulnerability and self-protection. Finally he said, “Well, look, you got a few minutes?”