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"Come on! I can’t imagine anything else. Why would anyone choose anything else? Is it because you think that you’ll go to hell if you have a good time with someone besides your husband?"
"No," I answered. "I think it would create a hell for both of us right here. Some things just don’t work."
This is how the conversation went till the shadows of evening began to work their way across our table. Then with a sigh, she said, "I’d give anything to have what you have. I’ve had some great lovers, but it never lasts. I’ve always wanted to have a couple of kids, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen either. In some ways my life has been a fantastic success. After all, I actually produce and direct movies--who wouldn’t want to do what I do? But when the day’s over I go home to an empty apartment. Your life sounds like a fairy tale. I didn’t think love lasted anymore. You’ve been lucky."
"Luck? I don’t think so. I remember a cartoon that read, ‘Some people think marriages are made in heaven; I think they come in a kit and you have to put them together yourselves.’ This is more in line with reality; at least this is the way it has worked for us."
"Okay," she said. "So what you’re saying is that you don’t just stumble onto a good thing, you create it?"
"Right, you can buy a great car, then trash it and have it break down. Same thing happens in relationships. Love relationships are very fragile. They can start out right and good, but if not cared for properly, they can go sour.
"Statistically, our marriage didn’t have a chance, but we have been able to keep our love growing and renewing through the years. It hasn’t been easy, but the truth is I just keep falling in love with the same man over and over--my husband."
"Tell me about it."
"Well, we were very young. I was only fifteen when I met my husband; he was nineteen. It seemed like one day I was in high school carrying a load of books, and the next day I was out of high school carrying a baby. The slap into motherhood--and adulthood--was painful. I was haunted by the thought, ‘This isn’t where I belong. This isn’t where I belong.’
"The experience was so traumatic that for years I had nightmares about going back to high school and not remembering where my locker was. Then when I finally found it, I had forgotten the combination. Oh, how I wanted to go back--to again be leading a cheer at a football game! To just walk through the hallways and see everyone. It was so difficult to accept that I would never be with my friends again. Sometimes my girlfriends would come over to see me, but it wasn’t the same anymore; our worlds were different.
"I recall one night; it was late, but I couldn’t sleep. I had turned off all the lights, and was pacing the floor like a caged lion. Everywhere I looked I saw gray. The walls were gray, the junk furniture that we purchased at a garage sale was dirty gray, the cold tile floor was sprinkled gray, the rain running down the windows was silver gray.
"Questions kept racing through my mind, ‘What am I suppose to do now? Who’s going to tell me what to do? What are my goals now? What do mothers do? What do mothers look forward to? Why didn’t someone tell me this would happen? Why didn’t someone warn me? I don’t know this life; I only know being a teenager and high school.’
"I wanted to run--but where? I wanted to hide--but where? I never felt so lost. I found myself doing something I never thought that I would do--praying. I didn’t know if I even believed in anything like a God, but there was nowhere else to turn. My heart screamed out in silence, Let me go back. Please let me go back; I promise I’ll do better. Let me go back home. Let me be with my family. Just let me be a kid again.
"I figured if there was a God, He ought to be powerful enough to take me back in time. For hours and hours I sobbed and prayed. Then at the point that it seemed I would be swallowed up in complete despair, a thought formed in my mind: ‘You have the power to change your life. You can’t go back, but you can go forward.’
"I realized then and there, I had a choice--I could either continue to grieve over my lost life, or I could begin to build a new one. I decided to begin building.
"In my longing to go back, I had been unwilling to go forward. Even though I was going to be a mom, I still had myself. I loved learning, so I began taking classes at the local college. I stopped reading romance magazines and began reading classical literature. I enrolled in ballet classes. I kept growing--learning, becoming, meeting new people. I stayed alive. Years later, when I was expecting my tenth baby, I graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in English and American Studies.
"No, I never regained my carefree teen years, and I’ll always feel a nostalgic longing at football games and formal weddings. I will never know what I lost, but I do know what I gained, and I am grateful. Looking back I realize that however painful this experience was, it was that moment in time when I formed resolves that would last my whole life."
Then she asked, "So that’s the reason you’re writing this book, because of the mistakes you have made?"
"Not really," I said, "I think my experience has helped me to have understanding and compassion for others, but the real reason is because I think those who settle for promiscuous sex are missing out, and they don’t even know what they’re missing out on. My search for answers has been rewarding. There are solid reasons, rational reasons that support chastity. I just want to share them."
We parted friends. When I arrived home the younger children were outside making a slide in the snow. The teenagers were listening to music and dancing wildly in their room. Our son, Adam, was composing music with his synthesizer. I began to pull food from the refrigerator for dinner--grateful for the noise of family, and the life that surrounded me.
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