What a Mighty God We Serve

Last night was the first night I had used the dead bolt on my bedroom door. I actually felt fear for the first time. The lock would certainly slow down my husband if he decided to act on his anger.
Yesterday was a 12 hour shift for me. When I got home from work, the pets were not in their right spaces. One house cat was even in the back yard because a door to the outside was wide open. The reason: husband half naked passed out on the basement floor. 20 shots of vodka will do that.
(My morning bible reading was in Genesis where Noah was passed out drunk and half naked. What is it with excessive alcohol and going nude?)
I got all the animals where they ought to be and then put some clean clothes on the floor beside my husband. He woke up then and asked for help to get up. I asked him to get into a better position so I could lift him without hurting myself. Apparently, that was very selfish of me and he began a whole tirade of how evil I am. I did raise my voice to him and let him know that he was totally out of line. That didn’t register. How can you argue with drunkenness? I did the rational thing: walk away and slam the door.
Somehow, a short time later, he made his way up to the 2nd floor and got pants on. Then he opened my bedroom door and wanted me to drop my drawers and hop in the sack with him. “Let’s talk” I said. From his angry reaction one would have thought that I had said something very offensive. He went back to the basement to drink some more.
That’s when I locked the door. I laid in the dark, straining to hear his footsteps. What would I do if he came back upstairs? He has never physically hurt me, but with the alcohol level and his angry outburst, was tonight the night everything would change? My head was swirling with all kinds of scenarios and my anxiety was increasing.
I tried to remember all the scripture passages of peace, protection, safety. Slowly but surely the feelings of fear and dread left me. Compassion/pity for my husband took it’s place. What a sad life he lives! I prayed that he would not suffer and be broken enough to get help for his alcoholism. I remembered my two friends who had physically abusive alcoholic husbands. The fear I had felt was an everyday occurrence for them. I was overwhelmed with thankfulness for how good God has been to me, protecting me, and now allowing me to experience something that will help me relate to other women. I am blessed and greatly loved!
A while later, I heard my husband come upstairs. “Lord, thank you for your mighty army of angels protecting me. Confuse my husband and keep him away from me.” I heard his bedroom door open and then some unrecognizable sounds. A half hour must have passed as I laid in the dark, listening. I opened the door, finally, and found my husband spread out on the floor in the hallway. He refused my offer to help him get up, so I locked my door again.
I slept in peace for the rest of the night.
My psalm for this morning was 109: “Help me, O Lord my God; save me in accordance with your love. Let them know that it is your hand, that you, O Lord, have done it. They may curse, but you will bless; when they attack they will be put to shame, but your servant will rejoice. My accusers will be clothed with disgrace and wrapped in shame as in a cloak. With my mouth I will greatly extol the Lord; in the great throng I will praise him. For he stands at the right hand of the needy one, to save his life from those who condemn him.”


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