Deliverance From Bondage

I have wanted to record the events that led to my recent deliverance, but have felt inadequate to do so.  Mere words, combined with my shortcomings, fall far short of relaying the power and wonder of it all.  However,  I realize that even though I feel inadequate to the task, it is necessary that I record the events before they are lost to the fuzzy results of an overcrowded life.

It all began on Passover, April 7, 2012.  I had made a goal for myself that I would try to begin to live my life again.  I know it sounds dramatic, yet any description of the abnormality of my existence would fall short of the reality, as compared to what my life had been three years earlier, when Brett and I had been sealed in the Manti Temple on Passover, then April 11, 2009.

Passover has been a sacred and meaningful day for me ever since I began my study of the ancient Israelite holidays.  Passover marks Israel's deliverance from the bondage of Egypt, but it's symbols point to a deeper and more dramatic deliverance - the deliverance from sin and death through the Atonement of the Lamb of God.  I have "kept" Passover for many years, and shared its beauty with hundreds of people, including seminary and institute students, members of my Stake, audiences at Education Week, and close friends and family.

As I had pondered and prayed over how I might start to "reclaim" any semblance of the Lynda that had existed before the breakup of my marriage, it seemed right and natural that I should hold a Passover dinner intended not only to share the beauty of the ritualistic event, but also to thank the wonderful people who had carried me through the last year-and-a-half.  I couldn't think of anything more "right," life-affirming or testimony-building than opening my home and my heart in this way.

When the day for the Feast arrived, Brandee Leafty came to help me prepare and to offer her love and support.  Even as the sun rose over the trees in the backyard, I felt a sense of breath coming back into my lungs.  Every thing seemed so "normal," as I unpacked the dishes from the cupboard, dishes that I hadn't touched in the year plus since Brett had left.  As I purchased and prepared food, my feelings were somewhat equivalent to having cardiac paddles placed on my chest and the electric charge turned up to produce a heart beat.  The "normal" feeling of life came as a shock, and I became shaky and teary over it.  I had been going on a robotic auto-pilot of going to work, coming home, mowing, weeding, cleaning, taking care of animals, etc. . . . all "going through the motions" in a stunned and silent state.  Now that the sun was shining, and the aroma of spices filled the air, while goblets and china were laid out on the table, I hardly knew what to do with my sense of deja vu and the slippery sensation of time performing roller-coaster loop-de-loops.

At one point, as I tried to express this shock over "normal" to Brandee, I said, "Why, it all feels so normal that I expect Brett to walk through the front door in the next five minutes." . . . and he did!  I hadn't seen Brett for months, and hadn't spoken to him for almost as long, yet within three minutes of those words, the doorbell rang, and Brett stood on the doorstep!  Talk about "normal" overwhelm!  I couldn't even react, because it all seemed so right and natural as Brett explained that he had felt compelled to come and wanted to ask me - for the first time - if I would be open to exploring the possibility of getting back together.

Brett ended up staying for Passover dinner, which all seemed so "normal" that I felt that I was in a daze as to where I actually was, and in which time zone of my life.  Because the events happened in this way, I felt certain that God was at the helm, and also certain that He couldn't possibly be bringing Brett back into my life unless it was to heal the relationship.

Several weeks passed of more roller-coaster bedazzled shock waves of reality and unreality.  I rocked between giddiness and despair as I realized that the Brett I was talking to was nothing like the man I had been married to.  I have truly never known anyone to change so completely, and I have fought that fact ever since Brett's "return" on Passover.  Because of my feelings about eternity and our sealing, I just couldn't believe that a few more times together wouldn't bring back the man I married, but, tragically, this was/is not the case.  In the end, Brett decided that he prefers his new/changed life, and that there will be no relationship between us.  More shock waves for me to deal with while still standing on ever-shifting sands, and trying to keep things together with my new career and the responsibilities of managing the home which had to be in ever-perfect condition for any prospective buyers.

At the end of one particularly rocky encounter with Brett, as I tearfully closed the door behind him, I felt a voice inside my heart say "The house will sell tomorrow."  Brett had forcefully announced for the tenth time (or more) that he had a new life and did not even view me as his "former" wife.  There was a finality to this particular pronouncement, and I had the sense that God had taken Brett's actions and declarations quite seriously.  I knew that the Lord had heard my prayers and had called Brett back at the first possible moment that he was even open to the idea, but each of these encounters, while inviting Brett to healing and to covenant, were also showing me that Brett had made a decided choice not to accept.  There was a sense of "shaking the dust off the feet" when I heard the door close, and the voice inside my heart declared "The house will sell tomorrow."  I didn't doubt it for a moment.

The next morning, in the midst of out-of-town company (Laurie, Andy, Asher and Rowan), Will and Joyce Stowe came by to see the house for the first time.  We had all gone to the zoo after wildly readying the house for their visit.  I received a call while I stood in the African Safari area of the zoo from the Stowe's agent, and I knew even as the phone was ringing that "this was it."  How could that be - after so many promising buyers that came to naught?  Because God had told me that this was the way it was going to be.  It was a testimony to me, and I hope that in some corner of his heart, it has been a testimony to Brett, too.

Will and Joyce did not make an offer that first week, but I patiently waited for it to come.  In the meantime, I received a call from the Stake executive secretary, who told me that President Tanner wanted to bring the visiting General Authority to my home!  Of all the people who are hurting and struggling, and the hundreds of souls who would love to have such a visit, I was one of two people in our Stake who was chosen for the honor.  How to respond?

How does one greet an emissary of the Lord?  I wanted to kneel, of course, when Elder Christianson pulled into the driveway with President Tanner.  I told them that I did not wish to talk in the few minutes allotted for the visit, but to listen.  As it turns out, they insisted that I talk, and President Tanner began with something of my history.  They offered to give me a blessing, which I gratefully accepted.  While I had hoped for a direct quotation regarding the state of my eternal marriage, what came instead was a blessing of love and comfort.  While his hands were placed on my head, I had the impression that the Lord was telling me that my bondage was over, and that it was time to stop mourning . . . something I have not done very well.  Within an hour, the Stowes made their second visit to the house, and presented an offer.  Of course.  Yes, there could be no doubt that the Lord's hand was in it, and there would not be any way of dismissing it as anything else.


So, my deliverance from bondage and my path to freedom has been set before me.  There is more to tell, and I will do so in the next few days/weeks. 


There is a saying that the Lord took the Israelites out of Egypt, but that He couldn't take Egypt out of the Israelites.  I struggle with the same scars upon my soul and my heart.  I know that the Lord is offering relief; there is no question in my mind about that Truth.  I know that the Atonement is real, and that Christ can erase it all.  I am working hard to surrender it all to Him, and to allow Him to clean the slate.  I want to have the suffering and pain removed, yet I do not want to lose the memory of the precious moments that have shaped me so.  Some days, I tell the Lord that I am letting go of Brett, and I mean it . . . and then there are other days that I cling to what seemed to me to be the happiest days of my life. 


I have a better understanding of Lot's wife now than I ever did before.  I am quite certain that she had left loved ones (perhaps children?) in Sodom, and she knew that that fiery rain was going to burn and destroy them.  I heard a saying recently that she turned to salt because of the deluge of her tears.  There has been a constant taste of salt on my tongue from the steady flow of tears that never seem to end.  Yes, it all sounds quite dramatic, but what does sealing, eternity, covenant, and mission mean?  Do we lightly walk away when all seems impossible?  Particularly when the one we love has chosen something so alien to covenant?


Yesterday, I reached the point that I knew that I was either going to take my life or change my life entirely.  As Dr. Phil would ask "How's that working for you?" I'd have to answer that the last year-and-a-half hasn't been working very well at all.  I recognize that even though my heart may feel one thing - devotion, loyalty and commitment - my head and my logic need to get some stability and health.  Therefore, very tentatively, because it is all new ground for me, I am embarking on a new adventure to "clean my brain" and establish new ways of thinking and being in the world.  It seems like that is the only way that I can honor God and walk the path to freedom that He has placed before me.  I will need lots of support along the way, as I have been riding a roller-coaster of sorrow and grief for far too long.


Many thanks for all of the love and support I receive from all of you, and to Virginia, for the slap-in-the-face or cold-water-in-the-face treatment she gave in her comment to my earlier blog post.  Please just know, dear Virginia, that it is hard to stay sane and clear when doing so much on my own, surrounded by ghosts and memories.