The Healing Choice

Introductionby Fred Stoeker Not long ago, lung cancer stalked my mother-in-law, Gwen Hulett, and finally crushed the life out of her. Satan spent that same withering year sifting my wife, Brenda, like harvest wheat while Gwen was torn slowly, agonizingly from her hands. I've never observed a closer mother-daughter relationship. Brenda's mother was her dearest friend. I haven't forgotten how harrowing it was to look into Brenda's eyes back then. Horrific things lurked behind the windows to her soulthings I never dreamt I'd see, like the raw anger that flashed one night when I gathered the kids around to worship and to pray for Gwen's healing. Brenda spat, "I'm not going to worship a God who would allow this to happen to me!" Gritting her teeth, she crossed her arms, her steely eyes ablaze. At other times, I saw in those eyes the lost, vacant confusion of a bag lady unable to cope with the complexities of life. Brenda simply couldn't face her mother's suffering. Agonizing regret and constant guilt over her responses to Gwen's diagnosis pillaged her peace of mind. Brenda's trust in God was weighed on the scales and found wanting, and her emotional collapse left her unable to care for her mother as she wanted to. The resulting shame and self-condemnation tormented my wife night and day. But most harrowing to me was when I searched those lovely green eyes for my Brenda and found no one home. Her smile was lifeless; her mood unresponsive. The Brenda I'd known was now gone, somewhere far, far away. I knew we'd pass through this yawning bleakness together, but would I recognize my wife on the other side? I'm very grateful that, though it took a little time, my Brenda is back, and her smile is just as mesmerizing as ever. To meand to hereverything seems new again, even her perspective. This was illustrated to me not long ago when we strolled hand in hand through our neighborhood on an orange-tinged autumn afternoon. "You know what?" she said, suddenly breaking the silence. "This grief process has parallels to the emotional mess a wife goes through when she catches her husband in sexual sin. You would be amazed." I stopped in my tracks. It was an incredible thought in its own right, but it seemed somehow more incredible coming from Brenda. Brenda has always been more into human relationships than philosophical musings, so this tying together of unrelated topics like a mother's death and a husband's sexual sin was not her normal gig.But something has changed,I thought as we resumed our walk. Sure, I suppose everyone tends to think deeper thoughts in the wake of a loved one's death, but this seemed like something more to me. Somewhere in the midst of Gwen's sickness, Brenda shifted from deep collapse into high gear with God. From that moment on, I've never seen Brenda so hungry for God, so hungry for the truth. This conversation, like so many others in past months, showed me that not only was my old Brenda back, but she was also a deeper, more resilient woman, sure of where she stood with God. For me, her husband of nearly twenty-five years, she was now more like a Brenda-on-spiritual-steroids, an even more intriguing wife than the one I knew before. All the confusion, dread, and loneliness she felt when she entered a private world of grief had dissipated like a summertime cloudburst. "I don't get it," I commented. "I mean, I understand how a wife grieves the loss of her dreams for marriage, but what you said makes it sound as if the parallels go deeper than that." Brenda thought a moment. "Think about it like thAllen, Susan is the author of 'The Healing Choice' with ISBN 9781400074259 and ISBN 1400074258.