Choosing to SEE - Mary Beth Chapman [21]
We had already struggled in our first turbulent years together, and now we realized that just saying “divorce isn’t an option” wouldn’t necessarily protect us. So we began seeking out godly counsel and putting what we called “preventative maintenance” into place.
We met with our pastor, with counselors, with whoever would meet with us to help us build our marriage as strong as possible. We told these people the truth about what we were feeling and how we were struggling, which was sometimes ugly and sad. We were honest and open because we knew it would only be by the grace of God that we could not just survive but grow. We did not want to be one of those Christian couples where everything seems perfect on the outside, and yet they’re falling apart on the inside. We wanted to be real.
Steven has always responded to life’s challenges and hurts through his music. Certainly this was the case with the pain of his parents’ divorce. Their breakup was a wake-up call, a catalyst, to say to me that he would not leave me, that in spite of the difficulties we faced, whatever came, we would be together.
“I will be here,” he promised, and those lyrics were a comfort, a commitment, and a lifeline that would prove vital on the road ahead. So on Mother’s Day 1990, he sat me down. He played me a song, written to me, for me, to encourage me.
And it did.
“I Will Be Here”
Words and music by Steven Curtis Chapman
I will be here, and you can cry on my shoulder
When the mirror tells us we’re older, I will hold you
And I will be here to watch you grow in beauty
And tell you all the things you are to me
I will be here
I will be true to the promise I have made
To you and to the One who gave you to me
9
Crying in the Bathroom
at Chuck E. Cheese
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares
the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm
you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
Jeremiah 29:11
All had been well with Caleb’s birth, but once he started taking bottles at home we had a problem. He spit up just about everything, and as he got a little older he moved on to projectile vomiting. We were amazed that this itty-bitty baby could hit a wall ten feet away.
I changed his formula about fifteen times and took him to the doctor repeatedly, and eventually we discovered he had a narrowing of the pylorus, the opening from the stomach into the small intestine. Normally, food passes easily from the stomach into the first part of the small intestine, but because of the blockage, Caleb’s formula had nowhere to go but up, up, and away.
This condition is easily corrected by surgery . . . but if it’s caught too late, babies can lose weight and eventually even starve to death.
After the surgery, Caleb was on morphine for about twelve hours . . . and then, when he was finally alert, he looked at me and smiled. I gave him a tiny bit of formula, and then I knew from the look on his little face that all was going to be well. We still waited for the heave-ho of vomiting . . . but it never came.
When Caleb was five months old, chubby, happy, and healthy, my brother called me to announce that his wife Yolanda was pregnant with their third child, due on Valentine’s Day. Then Steven’s brother Herbie and his wife Sherri called to say that they were pregnant with their first child, due on . . . February 14th. We decided to all meet at Chuck E. Cheese to celebrate. The children could play for the afternoon, and we could all dine on fine pizza.
What my extended family didn’t know was that my period was a few days late. Since I was always irregular, I didn’t think much of it. But I did stop at Target on our way to the party and bought a pregnancy test. That way I could be sure that I had nothing to announce to the family.
At Chuck E. Cheese, I helped Steven get the kids settled at a table, and then I headed off to the bathroom with my little science experiment. In the distance I could hear the mayhem of the restaurant, but there in the bathroom stall it was just Mary Beth and God. I stared