Before You Even Ask Him...

I’d seen him before, but never met him.  Tall, handsome, quiet spoken.  And he is one of the only people on the planet I can tell you the exact day, and almost the exact hour and minute I met him.  Not because it was one of those magical moments in life.  Nor that it was a romantic thing.  But it was a meeting that changed my life.

July 5^th, 1979.  I got a phone call from the director of the church’s summer camp up in the San Bernardino Mountains.


“Is this Liz Carson?”


“Yes….”


“Uh…do you know Larry Ballew?”

Oh no!  It’s a nightmare!  Wake up!  Wake up!  (You see, Larry Ballew was our high school P.E. teacher, and he and I didn’t get along very well.)


“…umm… yes…?”


“Liz, you don’t know me, but my name is Pastor Joe Smith…”  (Okay, that’s not his real name, but names have been changed to protect the innocent – though more of those who read my blog will know who I am talking about than not.) 


“And the Ballews tell me you might be the very solution to my problem.  You come with the highest praise and recommendation…” he continued.


It turns out that Pastor Smith had found it necessary to fire one of his staff members that morning and was looking for a replacement.  Would I consider coming up and working for him?  I’d been to the camp before and loved it there, so I was thrilled at the thought.


“Sure.  I’d like that!  How soon would you need me?”


“Can you be here in an hour?”


An hour?!  It was an hour’s drive from here to there, and I had no means of transportation. 

But my dear friend, Wally, said he’d take me, so I asked, “Would an hour and a half be okay?”


And so I threw some clothes into a small suitcase and headed “up the hill."


When I got to camp they were at supper, so I met the camp director and he told me, briefly, what was expected of me.  

I would have a cabin of eight girls.  My job was to be with them twenty-four hours a day and be sure they got to where they needed to be.  I would basically be their mother.


I got a little nervous at that point, never having been directly in charge over anybody.  But I played it calm.  I needed the job as much as they needed me.  So he took me into the cafeteria and introduced me to “my” campers.


Supper was just over, so he sent us down to a covered wagon that was our ‘cabin.’  The sun rapidly sank to the bottom of the valley to the west.  It would soon be dark.  

The camp director sent his son down to help bring me light, so to speak, by educating me in lantern lighting.  

I’d never used a lantern in my life, and that was to be the only source of light we’d have in our wagon.


But when his son got there, I met him at the steps. He took one look at me and asked for my counselor.  He became impatient with me when I insisted that I was the counselor.

"C'mon.  Go get your counselor," he insisted with a roll of his eyes.  (He knew all of the camp staff, and I had always looked much younger than my age.  Besides which, he was used to the female campers and staff members flirting with him.)


When my giggling campers finally convinced him I was indeed the counselor, he blushed deeply and then showed me how to light a lantern.  And so my peculiar friendship with my dear friend – let’s call him Joel – began.


I worked with him the next few years at summer camp.  Our paths crossed, but he was in another league and we were no more than acquaintances. A few summers later, his younger brother married one of my best friends from high school.


When I first married (my last quarter in college), my hubby and I actually lived up at the camp year round and worked as caretakers/cooks.  It is the most serene, beautiful place in the fall and winter, with nothing but silence and the whispering of the wind up in the tops of the huge, ponderosa pines. 


For the first couple of months Joel lived and worked up there too and came over for dinner occasionally.  Then he moved down the hill to go back to school at La Sierra University.  And my husband and I had the entire mountain side to ourselves.


But the first night that he had to stay away overnight, I was terrified.  Eddie had to stay the night at his parents' in Ojai. It may have been the first night in my entire life that was actually alone.


So there I was, all by my lonesome in that cabin in the mountains, the nearest human beings six miles away…!  Certainly an axe murderer would know that and sneak down here in the dark and murder me.


So when the phone rang shortly after dark, I just about jumped out of my skin.  It turned out to be my friend, Joel.  He was taking the same art history class I’d taken. They didn’t have any more text books in the book store, and the one in the library had been checked out.  Could he borrow mine?


He drove all the way up the mountain that evening to pick up the book.  And I can tell you, I was never so happy to see a friendly face.  It was all I could do to keep from launching myself into his arms when he showed up at my door.


He stayed for a while, had a cup of cocoa and then I gave him the huge, seven-pound textbook and walked him to the door.


I lingered awkwardly at the door, and as I was about to say goodbye, I suddenly burst into tears.  I felt so very stupid, and unbelievably embarrassed.  

Certainly this quiet, reserved man could never understand why I was crying.  When I wiped away the tears and told him, I was just afraid to be alone – and now mortified and humiliated, he was so very sweet.   


He didn’t laugh at me.  He didn’t just walk away and pretend he hadn’t noticed.  He listened and calmly assured me and that it wasn’t stupid to cry.  Then, bless his heart, he even offered to spend the night so I wouldn’t be alone. 


I so desperately wanted to take him up on it.  But my very possessive husband already envied Joel’s good looks and resented his popularity.  And he would never understand me allowing him to stay the night in one of our guest rooms.  So I reluctantly declined his offer, and he went home.  But his kindness brought me a measure of comfort and helped me make it through the dark, lonely night.

After college, our paths didn’t cross often.


Then ten years later my world fell apart.  The phone rang one morning before the sun was up. Eddie jumped out of bed and ran to the kitchen to answer it. 

Half awake, I naively thought, “That is so sweet of him going to the other room to answer it so as not to wake me!”  (Because I am a naive and kind and thoughtful person myself.)


But then I had a second thought.  Who in the world would be calling at this time of the morning unless it was bad news?  Oh my gosh!  Something must have happened to his father!


I quickly got out of bed and went to join him in the kitchen, to be with him and comfort him if it was bad news.  And as I rounded the corner from the hallway to the kitchen, I froze in mid stride and became chilled to the soles of my feet when I heard his voice.


I couldn’t yet hear his words, but the tone of his voice was the tone he used with me in only our most intimate moments.  

My heart stopped, my brain shut down, time stood still, and my world came to an end.  I then heard him say, “I love you too.  I’ll see you at 7:00.”


When I came out of my frozen state, we had our first and only really big fight.  It ended with him saying I was crazy and a degenerate and sick in the head, then locking himself in the bathroom. 


Of course, after years of emotional and psychological abuse, I did begin to question myself.  Maybe I was going crazy.  Who in the world would believe the great Eddie Rosas would possibly be an adulterer? 
 
But when I found hotel receipts in his wallet and condoms in his office trash can later that week, I knew it definitely wasn’t my imagination.


He finally admitted to me that it was some woman he’d met at Bally’s gym, but said it was over.  I knew in my heart that neither was true. And yet, I kept that secret to myself for almost a year.   

I was devastated, embarrassed and afraid.  And besides devastating me, he continued to intentionally degraded me. 


To make it worse, it wasn’t consistent.  He’d belittle me and call me crazy and sick.  Then he’d apologize and say he was sorry and that I was always such a good mother and wife.  

Then he’d tear me apart again.  And after that, he’d write me a card saying how very sorry he was for doing this to me. And we would work this out. And then he’d be out screwing around.


I’d signed on for “better or for worse,” but no one had ever told how bad worse could be!  

I signed on “until death do we part.”  

And I felt that if I was dying inside, it wouldn’t hurry up and happen fast enough.


So after almost a year of carrying this secret and covering for him at work, being the doting, supportive wife I’d always been, I just had to tell someone before I burst into a million pieces or melted into a puddle of nothingness.  


I had a few friends, but had not kept in touch with them.  I know now that that is a classic tactic of a sociopathic psychological abusers – to alienate their victim from all friends and family so they have no one to get a reality checks from.  But I finally got to the point I had to talk to someone despite my fear of the wrath that might bring down on me.



I had to wait until he was out of the house - most likely with his 'other woman' - so that I could call my friend.  And I had to be sure he'd be gone long enough so that I could have time to talk....


So I sat down and after several attempts to dial, and then hanging up again, I finally called my high school - Joel’s sister-in-law.  When a man’s voice answered, I panicked.  I almost hung up, even though I recognized the voice as her husband's.  All the men in that family (her husband, his two brothers and her father-in-law) sounded the same on the phone.  But I knew if I hung up I probably wouldn't be brave enough to try again. 


I asked for his wife and he said she no longer lived there.  She had moved to Oregon.  This was her brother-in-law, Joel. 

He’d bought their house when they moved and just kept their phone number.


My instinct was to hang up, but he recognized my voice and said he was glad to hear my voice and let’s catch up.  And I so desperately needed to talk...  I just didn't think I'd be able to get up the nerve to dial the phone again.


And so before you know it, I was spilling my most dreadful, shameful, painful secrets to this dear, sweet man who I didn’t really know that intimately.  Even though he had brought me the light that first night at camp, and come and spent an hour with me when I was so afraid of the darkness, and we'd known each other coming and going at camp for years.


I should have been mortified, but I was so relieved to just put it in words, finally after all this time. 


Certainly, coming from such a devout, perfect family, he would understand my life-devastating quandary. 

What does one do in situation like mine?  I’d committed for life.  My husband had committed just until he was temporarily over feeling guilty again.  

All the gifts and affirming cards from my husband about how we’re going to work this out and live together forever meant nothing.  Because he continued to cheat on me while he said these things.


Joel listened, totally shocked, as was everyone else I eventually confessed my toxic secret to.  

(I mistakenly believed for way too long that if I told no one, we could eventually fix this.)


And it was through his quiet listening that I slowly found the strength to stand up for myself.  To begin to become whole again.  

I had to smile at the thought of coming to him for relationship advice, as he’d never married.  But he’d been given to me (I believe by God) as counsel.


We talked for hours and hours over the next several months.

“How can I ever leave him?” I asked him pleadingly.  "I don't believe in divorce.  I promised 'Til death do we part.'"


He said simply, “I just believe you will know when the time is right.”


I couldn't believe he, of all people was counseling me this, since he came from such a rigid, puritanical background.  But I accepted this, though somewhat skeptically.  Joel was such a rock through those horrible days and talked me down off the ceiling a few more times.


It was a few months later that I knew that the Joel was right – that I would know that the time had come.


You see, I was still working in the library at school part time.  Still being the faithful wife I’d signed on to be, I would bring his lunch with me to work and he’d come pick it up on his very short lunch break.


He had the script down to a science.  He still knew how to play me, promising we would work this out…  I mean it had worked for almost a year now… why not?


He came to the library door one noon, and I handed him his lunch, my heart in my hands.  He said thanks and kissed me on the cheek, and it was then that I saw it.  I don’t think it even registered on a conscious level – a simple thread sticking out at his collar.


But being the good wife that I’d always been, I automatically reached up to pinch it off – to help my husband look his best.  Something that came second nature after all these years.  But as I pulled, it came out without resistance.  I pulled and pulled and it kept coming and coming.


It wasn’t a thread at all; it was a long, dark blondehair over two feet long!  And it was at that moment that, as Joel had said, that I just knew. 


“Who’s is this?” I asked acusingly, knowing well what the answer was.  “And more importantly, what is it doing inside your shirt?!” 


But before he could answer, I said, as calmly as can be, “You know what?  It doesn’t really matter....” My words came as a shock even to myself.   


No lie he could tell would be good enough anymore.  That afternoon – it was a Friday – I went to his office in the gym when school let out.
  
“I need to talk to you,” I said calmly.




The two other teachers who were lounging in his office and shooting the breeze began to get up to leave.  That is the first time I ever saw either fear or guilt on his face – and certainly the first time together!  

“Um… No, you don’t have to leave,” he told his friends.  “Whatever it is, she can tell me in front of you.”

But I called his bluff.  “I don’t think this is something you want your friends to hear.”


I have no memory of them actually leaving the room, but in a heartbeat we were alone.  He began to talk, and the mousey wife who’d lost all her ‘self’ during ten years of marriage to this man, held up her hand.


“It’s my turn,” I said, so calmly and forcefully that certainly it could not be me speaking.  

“It doesn’t even matter anymore whose hair that was.  Nothing you can say means anything to me anymore.  I’ve decided I want you to move out by the end of the weekend.”


That was the next two days.   

Playing his same bully role he’d played so well for so long, he swelled up and snapped, “Who are you to tell me that?  That house is my house, and I don’t want to move out.” 


I simply told him quietly that he had a choice. And if he didn’t move out by Sunday, I would, and I’d be taking the kids with me.   


So that Saturday night, like a thief in the night, he took half the family photos, half my pots and pans, and some bedding, and he slunk away without saying a thing to his kids.


I trembled in my boots.  It was pretty much the first time I’d ever stood up for myself against his tyranny.  

Shoot, it was pretty much the first time I’d ever stood up for myself in my life! 


The next year I lived in emotional devastation.  I taught school all day, then came home and played mother all evening and night, and then cried myself to sleep.  And the next day I did it all over again.  

People said they were so proud of how well I was doing through all of this.  But they had no idea.  I’d just become very good at putting on a good face.


It took me a whole year until I could open my heart just a crack for God to slip back in.  I never blamed anything on him, nor felt as though He had left me.  I just didn’t think I was worthy enough.  And I’d closed my heart to everyone and everything.


But when I finally did begin to talk to Him again, one of the first things that I had to thank Him for was sending me such a wonderful friend as Joel.  

Because I don’t think it was an accident at all that I found him on the other end of the line.  God knew what I needed.  And he knew that my girlfriend had moved.


And way back a decade before that, he’d known I would need to talk to Joel, so he sent him on a dark, cold, two-hour round trip in search of a textbook. 


And even four years earlier when God sent me to summer camp and sent Joel to bring me light. 


I didn't know I would need Joel when we met that first July 5th over an old, Coleman lantern.  I thought he was just the solution to my immediate problem.  (And maybe that devilishly handsome guy I could stare at across camp when nobody was looking.)

But God knew better.  You see, I know that God knows everything from beginning to end.  I don’t believe in destiny. But I know God has a plan long before we know we will need it.


Everything in life is a choice.  God gives us the power of choice.  Things will come our way – good things and bad things – and how we choose to deal with what comes our way determines who we will come to be. 


When God had Joel’s father call me and say can you pack your bags and hit the road in less than half an hour because you’ve been called to counsel God’s children, I could have said no.  My life would have taken a completely different course. 


When I finally had to reach out to a friend to share my secret, I had a friend to whom I’d been closer than Joel’s sister-in-law, but I believe now that God impressed me to dial her old number instead. 


When Joel answered, I could have easily panicked and hung up.  But I timidly chose not to.  Or my life would have been dramatically different.


When Eddie tried to bully me even to that last day when I told him that his choices had brought us to the point where he had to move out, our lives became dramatically different.


You see, God knows the beginning from the end.  

He says “I am the Alpha and the Omega; the beginning and the end.”  And he knows us (and our lives) so well that he knows the number of hairs on our heads.  

He knows when we will need a steady, level-headed friend long, long before the day we know we will. He knows what we need before we even ask.


(Of course, sometimes we choose not to ask, or choose not to follow when he answers, but that is a story for another day.)


Today is Joel’s birthday.  And I want to thank the Lord for sending my friend, my rock, Joel, to bring me light that first day that we met, way back on July 5^th, 1979.  To be there on so many other occasions to bring me Light when I needed someone.


God is so amazing - and always has a plan - even before we know we're going to need one.

Liz Rosas

7 Jan 2009

".…he knows what you need before you ask him.”   -- Matthew 6:8

“Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God.  Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.”  – Luke 12:6, 7