"Larry, we have to talk," I said as my husband prepared to go to work. Our argument from the night before still hung in the air. "There's something wrong with our marriage."
"Judy, I have to go," Larry said, clearly irritated.
"Don't you love me?" I asked.
"Sure I do. I have employees waiting to be let in."
"Larry, if you love me, why don't I feel it?" I needed him to put his arms around me and reassure me.
But he didn't. He just walked out the door.
What had happened to us? Two years before, when we'd committed our lives to Jesus Christ, Larry and I had been like newlyweds again. I was sure with God as our partner, our journey through life would be smooth.
But it wasn't. Our first child, Matthew, who was born shortly after we became Christians, needed major surgery when he was six weeks old. A few months later, Larry lost his job. I thought about going to work, but then discovered I was pregnant again. I was scared and needed Larry to reassure me, but he couldn't because he was dealing with his own fears.
We started to fight, sometimes over the most ridiculous things, such as the way he read the newspaper or ate his cereal. I felt guilty for my angry outbursts. Christians didn't act that way, I reasoned. So in the name of peace, I swallowed my feelings and prayed God would make Larry more thoughtful, open, loving, and romantic. But with each passing year, our fights grew in frequency and intensity. We became like strangers sharing a house.