Novela da jornada da restauração de Yvonne ❤️

Chapter 1
“Utter Devastation”

It’s a typical summer morning here in South Africa. Maybe a little hot, but not too much when I suddenly hear the now-familiar honk of Ian’s car. Even after all these years it still makes me jump when I hear it and my heart skips a beat.

This morning is a little different from the other times I see him because I am still recovering from the mental exhaustion I’m feeling. I’d gotten up early to clean because it always keeps my mind busy so I don’t think a lot. I was still dressed in what I call my cleaning clothes, my stretched out and stained with bleach marked dark blue blouse with an odd white pattern. Usually, before Ian brings the kids home I make sure that I look my best so that he can see I have moved on with my life. This morning I decided not to bother, what does it matter anyway?

When I hear the car doors slam, 1 then 2 then 3, I listen for the precious voices of my two sweet kids, Mia, who is 9, and Owen, her older brother aged 11. Everyone still mistakes them for twins because of their resemblance and because they are always together. They are not just brother and sister, but best friends as well, maybe having to do with what we’ve put them through.

“Hi, Mom” as each runs to greet me at the same time with a quick hug as I wait for Ian to unload their school bags. Ian picks them up from school every Friday, but as I watch him busy himself with the task, it seems he looks a little preoccupied. But, that is nothing unusual for him these days. So I just do what I always do, say hello and let the kids take their things into the house as I say goodbye to Ian and wait for him to leave so I can close the gate.

Today Ian is not the only one that has something on his mind—my mind has never stopped churning from the thoughts that have left me feeling very sorry for myself. As I turned around to close the gate, I remembered what happened that I can’t shake. It was the summer holiday and as usual, the children would spend most of their time at their dad’s house. This time they went away on a three-week vacation together…another thing I’ve gotten used to. A vacation is something I cannot do because my little car cannot travel very far nor do I have the funds to travel by air with the children. So this means their dad is the “fun place” while I am the place where they have rules and go to school.

After they’d returned from holiday, as usual, the children didn’t share much of what they did because I’ve learned to never ask. They have been victims of the bad decisions Ian and I made as parents, so I don’t want to make it worse for them by asking them to spy for me. And for that matter what would I do with the information? It is much easier just not knowing. School was starting and things would return to normal but that night Ian called the children to ask how their first few days of the new school year were going.

Normally he would send me a message to let me know he would be calling so I could make sure I am somewhere else and they could talk to their dad without me hovering over them. This evening was different, very different. This evening I got no warning message and to add to this, we were all sitting at the table having dinner. Then to make it impossible to leave, we have cats. I know if I left the table the cats would think I’d left my dinner for them to feast on. Our cats believe any food left on its own anywhere in my house is theirs. So I was forced to sit at the dinner table while they were talking to their dad.

Believe me, I tried not to listen, but they were all talking on speakerphone so I could hear every word. Every single word. Their stepbrother, Chris, and his mother, Elize were also there in on the conversation and for the first time in such a long time, I felt like the 5th wheel. The outcast. The uninvited spectator. It felt as if I was looking from the outside into a “happy family” that was not mine. That’s when a thought occurred to me at that moment, “Maybe I am the one that is not supposed to be here. Maybe I am just in the way. What a perfect family this would be without me. If I was not there, would I even be missed or would I just be like a fond memory that would slowly fade and disappear into their past?” That night for the first time in years, my pillow was drenched with my tears. I thought it would get better in a day or so, these dark feelings usually lifted, but this time I could not shake this miserable feeling of hopelessness. My marriage wasn't just in trouble, it was over. Everyone told me it was hopeless a long time ago, before and after the divorce so why was I hanging onto any HOPE for my marriage? Maybe for the sake of my children."

When suddenly, still standing at the gate lost in my thoughts, I am jarred out of my thoughts by Ian’s voice. Is he still here? I thought he had left. That could mean only one thing, he wants to talk and that means I did something wrong… again... Turning I asked, “Sorry, you said something?” “Yes, I asked if we can talk,” Ian repeated. “What’s wrong?” I said out loud, but in my mind it sounded like “Ugh, what have I done now?”

“Well,” Ian started, “we see that you have not used the pencil cases that we gave the children and instead bought them other pencil cases?” That pronoun “we” hangs in the air as I quickly try to figure out where this is going. The fact that they knew that I was buying the kids their pencil cases because I discussed it with the kids on speaker phone while they were visiting their dad and stepmom. This unnerves me. All I wanted was to be sure to find the correct one for my daughter who was looking for something specific. I could not for the life of me think why they would buy more pencil cases, but when the kids arrived home with them, I told the children that they could use either of the pencil cases they want. They could even rotate them or use one for school and one for home. I mean they are just pencil cases, right? Who cares.

In the end, the kids chose the ones that I bought them. Maybe they chose mine to impress me or because they did not want to hurt my feelings or maybe, just maybe they really like them more, but again, they are just pencil cases right? Instead of saying all that, what I did say was, “I can ask them to use the other pencil cases, it really does not matter.” Ian mumbled that it was okay and I was wondering why this would matter to him. Things like this never use to bother him before, but then again, he has changed so much, and yet sometimes, at rare times, I see a glimpse of the boy I married all those years ago.

After the pencil case debacle that I thought was done, Ian still seems uncomfortable and not really making any signs of leaving. It seems as if he still has more to say and as my mind groans, but my mouth says, “Was there something else?” as I am feeling, “Please say no, please not today, I don’t have the strength for this today!”

“Yes, there are more things that I was supposed to let you know, but what I want to say is that I made a terrible mistake and I have no idea how to fix it.”

Wait! What?

At first I did not grasp what he was talking about. Did something happen to one of the kids? What is he talking about? And why is he saying this to me? Probably seeing the questions in my eyes, Ian continues, “I wanted to invite you for coffee last week, but I was not sure how you were going to react so I chickened out. Do you think there is any way that you will be able to forgive me? I don’t have a lot of time today, but can we meet for coffee next week Friday when I get the kids from school so we can talk?”

I was flabbergasted of course, because this was not what I was expecting. My mind was spinning but I had my children to think of as well. Having grown up myself with only my mother and an alcoholic father dropping in and out of our lives, I know what it felt like growing up in a broken home. Whereas according to my way of thinking, Ian grew up in the perfect home, with a mom and dad, with stability. He did not know how utterly rejected a child feels when your family falls apart and all of the consequences of those actions. He grew up with the white picket fence life when, although I still think back of my childhood as mostly happy, the dark days were really dark compared to what Ian grew up experiencing.

With this in mind, I stumbled over my words, but they came somewhat coherently as I said, “This home is yours as well and you are welcome here anytime.” Half of the house was his, in fact and he was paying the mortgage and he was the father of my children. Unfortunately for Ian, he was told he was not “allowed” in the house (but that’s a story I will share a bit later). All of this went through my head as I said this to him, but also deep inside, I remembered that I do love him and so I agreed to coffee the next Friday.

As I watched the back of his white Isuzu drive away, still feeling a little confused over what had just happened, my mind drifts back to seven years ago. Sometimes it is all just a blur, like it happened to someone else, but at other times, it may as well have happened yesterday. That was the night Ian said these fateful words, “I don’t love you and I don’t think I have ever loved you, should we have met today, we would have never fallen in love in the first place.” It was the night I went snooping. Let me tell you the whole story as it unfolded.

“Take heart, daughter,” he said, “your faith has healed you.”
And the woman was healed at that moment.