A NEW START

"For I know well the plans I have in mind for you—says the LORD—plans for your welfare and not for woe, so as to give you a future of hope."

Jeremiah 29:11

"Either take my life or do something with it!" I had challenged God with my face pressed into synthetic carpet. Two years later, close to the exact day, living in a new town and starting over with Neal and me on the same page of knowing not a single soul in the area, God cashed in.

The boys and I walked out of our new parish’s Family Life Center. They were in the summer mother’s day out program. A woman I vaguely recognized vaguely met me in front of the doors. "Shannon Deitz?"

Seth hung from one hand, dragging behind, still tired from the nap I'd disturbed while Ryan ran ahead threatening to run into the middle of the street. I stopped to acknowledge the woman but Ryan ran ahead. "Ryan Deitz! Stop right there." Ryan stopped before his feet touched the parking lot.

The woman gasped.

"Sorry." I picked Seth up, swung him onto my hip and ran after Ryan who laughed and ran in the opposite direction past me and to the Family Life Center doors. I reached out to grab him but only grazed his shoulder with the tips of my fingers.

Ryan squealed in delight and unknowingly ran right into the woman's arms.

"Hey there little man.”

Ryan's eyes got big and he wiggled free to run back to me. With both boys in my grasp I looked at the woman. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, my son is three years old too.” She smiled. "Remember me, Patricia Vincent? I gave you the tour of the school."

Embarrassed I had forgotten so easily when it had only been four months since I'd taken the tour, I laughed. "Yes, yes, of course. I know Ryan looks forward to Pre-K 4."

Ryan pressed his nose on the backside of my leg to hide.

"Well, I was actually looking for you. Didn't you say you had experience working with teens when you were in Deer Park?"

I nodded, hesitant. Unsure if I had said anything.

Her smile widened. "Oh good! I thought that was you. I couldn't quite remember who it was but for some reason your name kept coming to mind. Our parish has a part-time youth ministry position open and I told them about you."

My heart fluttered. Being in youth ministry was a call I wanted to have but knew with my past mistakes, especially having come off of what was undoubtedly an emotional affair, and the fact that my kids were still young that it would be a dream for the future.

My cheeks blazed with the shame. I turned my head. I’m a sinner you don’t want me. "Oh, I wouldn't say I had that much experience.”

She smiled and pressed forward. "I don't know what it is, Shannon, but I think you should at least talk to Carole, our full-time youth minister, and Henry, the faith formation director. They are in the office right now." She pointed to a glass door that was to the right of the Family Life Center. "I can introduce you and then watch the boys while you talk to them."

She didn't wait for my excuse. She quickly turned and walked to the glass door, opening it before I had a chance to say a word. "That young woman is out here that I was telling y'all about," I could hear her say. "Do y'all want to talk to her now? I can watch her boys while you do that."

With a flick of her manicured hand she waved me into the office. "This is Shannon Deitz.” She grabbed my hand to pull me through the door and past her, stepped closer to me and took Seth from my arms. "I'll keep the boys outside while y'all talk."

They sat at a round table in the middle of the office space. I shook hands with Paula, the head of catechesis, along with Carole, the youth minister, and Henry the head of faith formation. They looked at me and everyone seemed prepared and ready for this impromptu interview except me.

There was no time to think or object. The group around the table asked questions about the volunteer work I'd done with the youth and about my education, etc. I spoke about the teens, the CCE class I co-taught and the confirmation retreats. As promised the visit was quick and I was left with an invitation to apply for the part-time youth ministry position. The position was not a lot of money but it was enough to help us pay a bill or two for the month.

At home I agonized about the chance meeting. I was torn inside because I had made a promise with God that if He would get me out of the sticky situation with Sean and back on the right track that I would do whatever it took to be a good mother and devoted wife. Plus, now that Ryan was beginning preschool in the upcoming school year and Seth would be in Mother's Day Out I was preparing to take the extra time to write. If I took the part-time youth minister position I would have no time to write.

Snuggled in my grandmother's antique wing-back chair in my bedroom I took out my prayer journal and flipped to a page I recalled writing a few months before we made our final move.

"If I am to get a job or become a writer or even work for the church (or both) please confirm this for me, Lord! How am I to help our household financially and follow your will?"

I smiled and felt an overwhelming sense of peace cover me like a warm blanket. The journal was now on its last few empty pages and I knew this was the last prayer I needed to offer up to complete this journey and begin a new one.

"Lord, the strangest thing happened today which only means it was of you. So, please know I don't take this possible position as a part-time youth minister lightly. I never thought all of this would happen so soon. I assumed the kids would be older and in school. But this is perfect. It is part time and enough money to help with some of the bills. I don't see how Neal could say 'no'. But, Lord, I'll be honest. I was hoping to have the chance to write more. If you want me to do this job and be able to focus on ministry and my family then please take away this desire to write."

I finished writing in the journal, making sure to include prayers for the boys, Neal, and other people who had asked for prayers. The boys were getting up from their naps and I could hear them rustling around in the playroom upstairs when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Shannon Deitz please."

"This is she.” I had my finger on the END button, certain it was a telemarketer.

"Mrs. Deitz I'm the senior editor at 'ABC' Publishing and we have been considering your manuscript 'Corner of My Mind' for quite some time."

My grip tightened around the receiver and I froze in place. "Yes.”

"Well, we enjoy the manuscript and were considering it for publication but we have also been struggling with some financial difficulties which is what has kept us from making a decision. Unfortunately, we are not able to continue and will have to send back the manuscript. Of course we'll offer you a recommendation."

Disappointment and anticipation collided, leaving me speechless.

"I'm very sorry we are not able to offer you a contract at this time.”

I smiled despite the obvious disappointment. There was my answer, as clear as day. "Thank you for calling.”

When I hung up the disappointment was gone. I asked God to take away the desire to write so I could focus on what He wanted me to do. For me this phone call was God telling me "You are a good writer and you will write but not right now."

My answer was clear. The anxiety was gone, replaced by the anticipation and excitement of what being involved in youth ministry could bring.

Once I got involved in youth ministry it took over my life and though I was still there for the kids to take to preschool and pick up at the end of the day, I was gone at least one, if not two or three, nights a week and every other weekend. And if I wasn’t at the office or doing a youth program then I was on the phone with a teenager or parent helping them deal with an issue. The ‘part-time’ aspect of the position lasted merely a few months before I was asked to take on the position full-time.

Neal was onboard in the beginning because this meant I would receive a full-time salary. A little less than a private school teacher brings in but it was enough to make life a little easier on us financially. Plus I worked where the kids were in mother’s day out and preschool so it was convenient and offered the best of all worlds.

What Neal and I didn’t anticipate was how much of myself I would pour into the job leaving little to give when I got home. I stood before Neal and saw the resignation in his eyes, it felt like our world was about to implode.

"What's going on with us, Shannon?" Neal sat on our couch in the living room and looked up at me with a mixture of disdain and confusion. "We're like roommates living in the same house."

I stood before him with my hands on my hips, the defensive stance I often took when we were in one of our heated battles. These days it seemed we were in a battle of wills daily. Gone was the bliss of the roller coaster. At least it had peaks. We'd come to the end of our ride and neither of us wanted to be the first to exit.

He was right. We weren't living as a married couple.

“You could care less to be with me,” he said with resignation in his voice. “I don’t think you care about our sex life at all.”

My teeth clenched. Sex. Ugh. “Then let’s go to counseling.” Even though the fear of losing him sent alarms through every nerve in my body it still didn’t cancel out the hurt I felt by the original argument. It all came down to sex.

Curse the evil serpent in the Garden of Eden. If Adam and Eve could have lived blissfully avoiding the fruit of the forbidden tree we wouldn’t have the issue of how often, who initiated, and every emotional trigger in-between. Of course it wasn’t really about sex. Sex was the easy fight to have. The underlying issue was much deeper and more complex.

Neal rolled his eyes. “We don’t need to go talk to some stranger. You might need counseling but I don’t.”

“You are such a jerk!” I regretted it the minute it erupted because not only did I work diligently to not yell anymore, it was like the curse of any bad habit: once you give in, you can’t stop.

Even as we piled on the useless words one on top of the other I felt my spirit cry out. “What are you doing? Stop! Stop right now!”

My resolve broke. I cried. The fight was over.

God, I prayed in my journal, you have shown me how valuable it is to be patient for your time, because you'll know when I'm ready to be an example of your light and love to others but right now I realize it's not time. It's not time because I can't get my own marriage right. It's not just me who has to be ready to do whatever it is you are calling me to. It is Neal too! We have to be one another's rock to hold onto - and we'll have to share the same convictions and I'm not sure we are there right now.

Another eye-awakening you have given me, Lord, is what is keeping me from feeling love, desire, and the passion I long to have in my marriage. It is so simple. I'm afraid to love. I love - I love my husband and boys - but it's a guarded love. I now see this. It's why I get testy and short and why I back off at times. My heart literally puts up a wall because if I were to give 100% of me to love them then how would I recover if I were to lose one of them? Or if I were to be hurt by them? I'm keeping defenses up and it is silly!

Lord tear down this wall I've built up around myself. Help me to love -- to love like you want me to love. I have got to let go and allow you to lead me and to do as you command. LOVE.

As if on cue, God orchestrated a conversation between me and another woman who worked at the parish who brought up the fact that she and her husband were going through marital counseling. Without hesitation I obtained the number for the counselor and made an appointment.

I chose a peaceful evening to bring up the appointment to Neal. My moment of surrender to God only two years before came back to me like a cup of cold water splashed in my face. Offer it up. "Neal, I was thinking and you're right. I do need counseling so I made an appointment with a counselor someone at work told me about.”

I had him at 'You were right' so I continued. "But I was hoping you would come with me to this first visit so you could help explain what it is I need to work on."

To Neal's credit he has not been one to back away from doing what was needed to help me in my recovery. Before we were married he attended counseling with me and we'd been to see Fr. Ken, so for him this wouldn't be any different.

I sat on the couch, Neal sat on the chair next to the couch, and the therapist sat in her desk chair positioned in front of us with a yellow notepad balanced on her lap.

"I'm not a priority for Shannon.”

My stomach fell. I couldn't argue my way out of this one.

The therapist scribbled on her notepad and then looked in my direction. "When you hear Neal say this, what does this mean to you?"

My lips quivered and my throat tightened. I shrugged and tried to swallow. "That he doesn't feel like I put him first or maybe that I don’t even care.”

"Is that how you feel, Neal?"

He was apathetic. I could sense it in his slight slouch and poker face. "Yeah, pretty much.”

I found my voice. "I do care. There is a lot of pressure and I guess it's easier to get lost in work or the kids.”

"What do you mean by pressure?"

Neal sat up in his chair and turned to look at me.

I knew if I said what I felt it would hurt Neal and I was certain he wouldn't understand. My face burned with shame. "I know I don't give Neal what he needs and when I'm at work I feel good about what I'm doing. It's easier to be at work where I feel like I'm not a failure than it is to be at home and know I can't live up to what Neal feels is 'normal'."

Neal’s face crunched up in disgust. "Why do you say that? I don't make you do anything you don't want to do and I don't ever tell you I expect something from you."

"You say that, but you do. We can't be intimate without it having to lead to sex."

"What? That’s ridiculous. I don't even ask for it anymore because you make me feel worse -- like I'm putting you out."

"Well it's because I feel like we can't even hold hands or sit next to each other without you thinking it should lead to sex!"

"You don't want me.” He looked dejected and turned to the therapist. "She doesn't desire me. To be honest I'm sick of trying only to get rejected and made to feel like I'm some bad guy for wanting to be with her."

His words stung like salt on a fresh wound. I wanted to interject and tell him he was being ridiculous but he was right. I loved him and I found him very attractive but there was a rock solid mental block when it came to feeling desire.

"I'm sorry, but it's hard when you make comments on how I'm not keeping up with some quota." It felt good to admit this out loud. "And you joke about it in front of your friends but it's not funny."

His eyes widened. "I don't joke about it.”

"Yes you do. You say things that refer to the fact that I'd rather not have sex, or how you never get it or how mistreated you are...or even how I would never be like some sex crazed person."

"Well it's true. That’s not a joke.”

"But it hurts when you talk about it in front of your friends.” How could he not see that?

For the hour we were in her office, the therapist spent most of it clarifying our emotions to one another. We peeled back layers which left us raw and exposed.

In the end she asked if we would be willing to partake in some healing homework. She suggested I could use personal therapy to deal with some issues that I hadn’t touched upon in past counseling.

Knowing the 'cause' was still in my court, Neal leaned in with interest. Right away I felt frustrated, because I didn't want Neal to be fooled by the thought I could be 'fixed' and no longer have these issues. "What is the project and then I'll tell you if I think it's doable.”

"I think you have an issue with boundaries.” She looked me right in the eye. "You're afraid to say 'no' because you never had the freedom to before without it leading to a loss of some kind. Am I close?"

Hearing her say this aloud was as if the numbness from a third degree burn had worn off, and I could feel the excruciating pain for the first time. I was too afraid to say 'no' but I didn’t acknowledge it. It was more of an internal defense which, led to my frustration during intimate moments, especially if I wasn't close to being in the mood.

I nodded.

Neal interrupted. "You can say no to me.”

"Wait a second," the therapist intervened. "You hear this and think it is such an easy fix to the problem. 'Just say no', but this is a deeper issue with Shannon. She needs to feel comfortable being able to be near you and not feel as if she has to deliver sexually. She needs to feel a sense of safety and comfort with you so she can create these healthy boundaries and be able to receive the feelings of desire without them triggering a defensive reaction."

Neal looked as if he could cry, which made me want to cry harder. This was as hard on him as it was on me.

"I'll do whatever it is she needs.”

"What I'd like to propose is that you guys start all over again intimately and I want Shannon to be in control of what pace you guys move."

Neal and I looked at each other with eyebrows raised.

"In this first phase I don't want you to touch, kiss, or have sex. I want you to be around each other, talk like you normally do but no touching. She needs to know you are here for her even without the sexual intimacy. I need Shannon to be in the driver's seat on this."

"Ugh, she's always in the driver's seat.” Neal looked at me and gave a reassuring smile.

A sense of panic swirled in the pit of my stomach. I understood the concept of this homework but it terrified me to be in that position. "How long should we do this?"

"Until you feel like you want to hold his hand. Just hold his hand, nothing else."

"Hold his hand? Come on." The panic moved up to my chest. "I like to hold Neal's hand." I looked over at him. He wouldn’t look at me. The tightening in my chest mirrored the pain he had to be feeling.

"I realize it seems extreme but the two of you need to treat this as a chance to push the reset button. Go out on dates. Get to know each other again. How long have you been married?"

"Eight years," we answered in unison.

"And I'm sure you dated for a year or two before you got married?"

I nodded.

"Neal, how are you feeling about this homework?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. To be honest I wouldn't be surprised if we never get past this first step."

So this is what it had come to. I had pushed my husband to the edge, and now he felt as if I didn’t even want to be near him, let alone hold his hand. Unable to get a word past the lump in my throat, I looked to the therapist, pleading with my eyes to help save this ship we were sinking fast.

She smiled. "Shannon, how do you feel about this homework?"

"I feel like I want to quit it already, like I'm going to lose him." I faced Neal. “I do want to hold your hand and I do want to be with you. I don't know why it is so hard." The tears wouldn't stop.

Within seconds Neal was on the couch beside me, wrapping me in an embrace. "Hey, I'm not going anywhere. I know you love me and I'll do whatever we need to do."

I cried harder. It felt like Neal always gave in and gave up for me. "I'm sorry.”

The therapist interjected. "No, don't apologize. Accept the love he is showing you and recognize you deserve it."

I slumped into Neal's embrace knowing that it might be a little while before I felt his arms around me again. I wrangled my emotions back enough to sit up and finish the session.

"So are we all in agreement? For as long as you need you'll call the shots on when you can hold hands and that's it. If that takes a week, two or even a month, then that's what it takes. Once you feel like you desire and want to hold Neal's hand then we'll discuss what the next step is."

We nodded in agreement. Before leaving we set up our appointment for the following week and I made an appointment to see her one on one before our next couple's session.

The next day I did not desire to hold Neal's hand. But there wasn't a chance if I had desired to. Neal claimed he was on board but he also stayed away. I couldn't blame him. I know it was a blow to his male ego added to the many blows I dealt through the years. His sudden distance only fueled me to take the homework seriously. It took a few personal sessions and another heated couple's session before I fully grasped that this could only be an answer to my prayer if I was serious about the process.

Neal desperately needs me to look at him with passion and longing in my eyes and to want him. We'll argue and he'll cry out, "If YOU can believe God will help you and do miracles in all things then why can't you believe He can change you in this area?"

Good question, I prayed in my prayer journal. I know you can change my heart. So what keeps me from this?

What do I want?

I want to feel comfort and support from Neal. I want to be able to fall in love with him again so I can give rebirth to the sexual desire and intimacy. I want to finally have a relationship of total abandon - to feel like Neal is the only person to whom I can open myself up and give my all. I want the boys to see us in love and feel love from us. I want us to be a family that can sit and pray together, to come to each other with our worries, frustrations, and praises. To hold hands with each other and pray together.

I want Neal and me to be mighty partners able to conquer any struggle in our family or lives because we have all we need and that's one another.

But we aren't on the same page. Maybe Neal is right. Maybe I am a hypocrite. He sees me now as a changed woman, leading teens and doing more at church than with my family but yet I can't trust you, Lord, to heal me from this one aspect of my life?

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