T
his is what the Sovereign Lord says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the Lord. Ezekiel 37:5, 6b
When the city arborist stopped by to tell us they had received a grant to plant new trees in our neighborhood, we were delighted. We would receive two Shumard oaks, hearty ones that would grow tall and had a long life span, unlike our pretty laurel oaks that suffered so much in recent hurricanes.
The city planted the oaks, and someone came by regularly to pour water into the irrigation sacks around their trunks. However, a few weeks later the leaves on one of them started turning brown. Before long all the foliage on the tree appeared dead.
One evening when we went out for a walk, Marv said, “I wonder if they’ll take that tree out and bring us a new one,”
“Maybe we should call the city and let them know it’s dead,” I said. “It apparently never got a strong start.”
Each day we speculated about its prospects but didn’t make any calls, and the tree remained.
One morning Marv announced that a city truck came by and the driver again watered our new tree. We shook our heads and wondered why they were still watering a tree that was clearly dead. A few days later, however, when we stepped outside, we noticed a few green leaves at its base. The city continued watering it, and each evening as we went out to take our walk, we were astonished to see new life appear as green leaves continued to spread from the bottom to the top. In a few weeks, the entire tree was green once more. Our new Shumard oak was alive and growing.
“It’s amazing how that tree has come back to life,” Marv said. “You should use it in one of your stories. It would be a good analogy for marriages.”
When New Life Appears in a Marriage
It was, in fact, a good analogy for what had happened in our own marriage. For although at one time our marriage seemed dead, we gradually saw new life appear.
I remembered an afternoon thirteen years earlier at the beginning of what was to become our painful three-year separation. At this point, Marv and I hadn’t seen each other for two months, and the Christian couple he was staying with urged him to come talk to me. When I saw him at the door, I hoped it would be the beginning of reconciliation, but his downcast face quickly told me otherwise.
He slumped in the burgundy club chair he always sat in when we had our “talks.” I sat on the couch.
“I can’t tell you anything you want to hear,” he said dolefully.
My heart withered. I knew that meant he couldn’t say he loved me. I knew that meant he couldn’t say he wanted to reconcile our marriage. But, being a gentleman, he didn’t want to say the words. He didn’t want to hurt me more than he already had.
But I knew. The absence of words told me the ones left unsaid.
I plied him with questions, but he remained expressionless, and his answer stayed the same. When he left, I ran upstairs and collapsed on the bed, sobbing. I could see he felt our marriage was dead.
But like the Shumard oak, even though our marriage appeared to be dead, unbeknownst to either of us, a flicker of life still lingered.
As the months unfolded, each of us began allowing God to convict us of what we individually needed to do to change the dynamics between us. It took time, patience, and grace. But when we gave God the freedom to make us the new persons He wanted us to be, we began to see new life appear in our relationship. Our love returned, and we eventually reconciled.
A New Foundation of Love
Some time after we got back together, a sweet moment signaled that a new foundation of love had finally been rebuilt between us. I had removed the biscuits from the oven, placed the cookie sheet on the stove top, and begun placing the plump rolls onto the serving dish. The rich aroma of pot roast filled the kitchen. Feeling movement behind me, I turned.
Marv’s eyes sparkled as he looked at me. He leaned down and kissed me. “I love you,” he said warmly.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he held me tight. “I’m glad to be spending my life with you,” he said.
My heart danced as I gazed happily into his eyes. “Me too.”
Although the words “I love you” were common between us now, the spontaneous gesture gave them special meaning. No longer did the debris of brokenness dull the luster of our renewed relationship. The past hurts had scattered. The empty hole had filled. Our love was truly reborn. Twenty years and five grandchildren after that heart-wrenching day in our living room, life is as good as I could ever have hoped.
Marv tells the men in our marriage classes every week, “Feelings change. Don’t make your decisions based on feelings because they’re unreliable and they change.”
We are living examples. Marriages that appear to be dead can indeed be reborn. Many times people come to us saying the love in their marriage has died. However, when God is given the freedom to work in each of their lives, He can open their hearts to one another so green leaves of new life can begin to sprout.
When new life appears in a marriage it is a testimony to the promise of new life God gives to us both through nature and His Word. His power to bring life from death rocked the world 2,000 years ago and continues to rock the world today.
Share your heart. How can God make things new in your life?
© Linda Rooks 2019
Fighting for Your Marriage while Separated available on Amazon and other online retailers
Listen to Marv and Linda’s story in a three-part series on Family Life Today as they both share from the heart about their separation and restoration.
