The door bell rang.
Her heart sank.
She thought this might be the end. But, she hoped it wouldn’t be.
For so long she’d waited for this moment. For so long she had wondered if he would ever come home. The kids had finished their spring sports season, and now summer was beginning to set in. They had always taken family vacations in the summer. This year seemed different. So different. Words couldn’t describe her emotions. She was mad. She was hurt. She was tired. But, she loved him. She needed him. She missed him.
Now…it was here. She knew it was him, because his car was parked outside.
Time froze.
He rang the door bell again.
He thought to himself, “Am I really ready?” Am I really ready to love her. Am I really ready to own my responsibilities…my faults…the hurt I’ve caused…the pain. He paused. He remembered the night things fell apart.
There had been issues brewing for some time, but this night was different. The sadness in her eyes. The anger. The harsh words. The hapless attempt he made at justifying his choices. She was finished. He was fed up. The kids heard every word…tears ran down their faces as he pulled out the driveway. She turned and put her hands in her face. She cried. She was fuming. She was hurt. She was sick and tired of him. He drove down the street…remembering the first time they’d driven down this street as they finally found their first house–this house he was now leaving. But now, he was tired. He was annoyed. He was thinking about all the other responsibilities pressing down upon him. He needed to clear his head. And so, they parted that early winter night. She said papers were coming shortly. Papers. The one turn of events he never thought would arrive. He was so successful in his career. People loved him at the office. He had respect in every other environment…except at home. She had gone too far this time. “To divorce me”, he thought. No sir. I’m divorcing her.
Months had gone by without a word. Neither could muster the courage to draw up the papers. And so, months without love…without kindness…without companionship.
Until now.
She got up, came to the door, and slowly opened it.
“Hello,” he said.
Silence.
Then…
Her voice: “It’s been so long…”
Pause.
Silence.
He spoke again.
“I…”
“I…”
Silence.
“I am sorry,” he said.
Long silence.
She looked into his eyes. She knew things were different. She felt electricity run through her body. She believed him.
“I am sorry, too,” she replied.
“I’m sorry for not loving you as you ought to be loved. I’m sorry for not caring for you as you ought to be cared for. I’m sorry for not being the husband you need. I’m sorry for not being a present and intentional father to our children.”
Tears filled her eyes. She rushed into his arms. They embraced. Her head leaned into his chest, and she wept. She cried for joy. She cried for hope. She cried, because she knew things would never be the same. She could see it in his eyes. She could hear it in his voice.
He loved her until his final day. She honored him all the way to the end. They often talked about that early summer day. They remembered with fondness the time humility and three words shaped their marriage…shaped their lives…three words that could change the world:
“I AM SORRY.”
“So then, if you bring your gift to the altar and there you remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to your brother and then come and present your gift.”
Matthew 5:23-24
— October 16, 2020