WORTHY

“Yet you have still a few names in Sardis, people who have not soiled their garments, and they will walk with me in white, for they are worthy.”

Revelation 3:4

Neal couldn’t care less about my experience on the ACTS retreat. I told him about naming our child Michael and he was interested but the animosity was too deep. I had left him again with the kids. I left him alone all the time with the kids to do ministry work and he wasn't happy.

We had regressed quicker than I could bat an eye. The way we spoke to each other was a mutual disrespect. All I wanted was to be on the same page and have Neal be the man that would back me up in my ministry, maybe even be a part of the ministry with me, and to support me.

It didn't help how refreshing it was to meet more and more men within the world of youth ministry who displayed a complete belief and trust in God. These men prayed aloud, adored their wives, and brought others closer to Christ. They weren't skipping Mass because they didn't feel like going and they understood the work of ministry was not a typical forty-hour work week.

I loved Neal and we weren't in such a bad place that I wanted to leave him or end things. On the contrary I was desperate to share everything I was learning about our Catholic faith and my personal faith with him. I couldn’t fathom the stress he was under with work and supporting a family. I wanted to pray with him so he could talk about these worries and concerns and have him be the one who would lead our family in prayer. I wanted him to be the 'head of the household' especially when it came to our family.

When I received the following letter I knew I had to do something to help him, to help us.

Shannon,

For some reason I am feeling very melancholy. I've been doing a lot of thinking about life and what is truly important to me. I feel inadequate at times as a father and a husband. It's almost like I have not measured up but I don't know what it is I'm supposed to gauge it against. Work and life can be hectic so I try to escape to golf but then I feel guilty with leaving you and the kids. For some reason I feel blah. I love you and the boys with all my heart and would give you the world if I could. I am not sure why I'm even telling you this but I just feel lost. I try looking into my life to see what's missing and I can't put my finger on one thing. I have a family, God, and friends but I still feel somehow I'm lacking. If you have any suggestions I'll take them. I love you and do not feel anything is wrong with our relationship. It's just I'm in a funk and overwhelmed with life. I pray to God every day to take control so I don't lose myself. I feel like a duck. On the surface all looks fine but below the water my feet are going ninety miles an hour. I know everything will be fine but I'm tired and maybe borderline depressed.

I love you,

Neal

“Why don’t you go on the Men’s ACTS retreat?” I sat on the bed next to Neal who flipped through channels on the TV.

“No.”

“What? What do you mean ‘no’? You need something you said so yourself.”

He looked away from the TV and at me with no expression on his face. “I don’t need a retreat where I have to go and share my feelings with men. I don’t sing. Besides my prayer life is private.”

I sighed. What he didn’t know was I had signed him up anyway. A month before I went on my ACTS retreat they had registration for the men’s retreat. I signed him up as a surprise. I thought if I came back rejuvenated he might reconsider.

When I got back from my retreat his mood worsened. I called his friend who happened to be on the men’s retreat team. “Hey, Neal still doesn’t know I signed him up on that retreat but I need to tell him. He’s going to mad and do everything he can to find an excuse to get out of it.”

“Don’t you worry about it, Shannon. We’ll work on him. We still have a few weeks.”

"I told you I’m not going on a retreat. I don't need to pray with other people. I'm fine praying on my own.”

“But you said you needed something that you were lacking. I promise, this retreat will help you figure it out. Besides it’s paid for and it would be good for you to get away from work for a few days.”

“Get our money back. I’m not going. I can’t take off work for two days.”

“I already called your boss and he supports you going on the retreat.” I held my breath for his reaction. I knew it was a bold step for me to take but when I knew he would use work as an excuse. His boss was a Christian man who agreed it would be beneficial for Neal to attend the retreat.

“You called my boss?”

“He said there was no reason for you not to go. That you have the time to take off and it’ll be good for you. Really what can it hurt, Neal?”

He stormed out of our room.

Lord help us.

Two weeks before the men’s ACTS retreat was my own ACTS retreat reunion. Before the reunion Neal and I had to attend a meeting for a married couples’ group at our parish. The group was called Teams of Our Lady. It was another push on my part to get us involved with other Catholic married couples and introduce praying together and with others.

Within the parish this program had about 20 groups with six to 7 couples in every group. Each group had a RC - 'responsible couple' who ran the meeting for a year. This was our year to be responsible which made Neal that much more irritated.

“Why do we have to go to this meeting?”

“Because we’re the RC and we have to meet with the other RC’s from the groups.”

“Okay but why do I have to go?”

“Because we are the responsible couple. Not person. It’s not going to be long.”

“And where are you going after the meeting? Why are we taking two cars?”

“I’ve told you a thousand times, I have my ACTS reunion this afternoon and then I’ll meet you at Mass.”

“So I have the boys, again.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Loud and clear.

Begrudgingly Neal followed me to the meeting. We sat together on a couch and before we began while others were talking and getting to know one another the couple leading the meeting asked me questions that pertained to our parish. I worked at the parish so they knew I would have more inside information.

I could not see Neal but I felt his frustration. He shifted every few seconds on the couch and cleared his throat.

I couldn’t concentrate on what they were asking because I was too preoccupied with Neal’s frustration. I could almost read his mind. “You talk too much. You don’t have to be the one that answers everything. You don’t need to be the center of attention.” These comments were hurtful and when he’d say them. I’d get quiet, which was his point.

What is wrong with me answering questions about work?

The meeting began and the couple asked all of us to answer a few questions about each of our teams and update them on a few things. They started on the opposite end of us and we listened patiently until it was our turn. When it came time for us to speak I decided to keep quiet and have Neal speak for us. He says I talk all the time so I'll let him speak. I knew he really didn't want to speak but I wanted to make a point.

I sat back on the couch and looked to Neal to speak for us. Everyone in the room looked at us.

Neal turned to me. "You might as well speak. You'll talk over me anyway."

It felt like a verbal slap rung out in the silent room with a loud 'snap'! My face burned with humiliation.

I giggled to diffuse the uncomfortable moment. “Ha, you’re funny.” I tapped his arm. “He just doesn’t pay attention.” I proceeded ahead with the update of our team.

For the rest of the meeting I fumed inside. You might as well speak you’ll talk over me anyway replayed in my head. I flopped between the need to make everything seem fine and a strong desire to stick up for myself.

How dare you for embarrassing me! Who do you think you are? You can’t treat me that way? My mind reeled with what I would say to him once the meeting was over.

The typical response would be for me to apologize and stuff what I felt inside. I surprised myself and headed straight for the door. I made it out without one word or glance his way.

In the car, on my way to the ACTS reunion, I gripped the steering wheel with both hands and screamed. "God, I can't do this anymore! If you want me to work for you and speak about faith then I can't be a hypocrite with my marriage the way it is."

I should not have been driving as the sobs wracked my body with each syllable spoken. "I want Neal to support me. I want him to appreciate me. I need Neal to want to pray with me. I want him to respect me and understand me. Lord, I can't change him! Only you can bring him closer to you. I can't do this anymore. You have to do something."

When I pulled up to the house for the reunion I was a mess. I needed prayer but I couldn't pray. I needed some of the women at the reunion to pray over me. What will they think of me? I don’t want them to think bad of Neal. He’s a good guy but he can be a jerk! I cried harder. I didn't want them to judge him or get the wrong impression. Neal was a good man and a good husband but I needed more.

Despite the condition I was in I walked through the front door, into the living room, and grabbed the first two women I saw. "Will you please come pray with me?"

The look on my face must’ve told them I was desperate because they didn't question and followed me into a nearby guest bedroom. I knew the owner of the home and therefore knew where I could go to be private. I sat on the bed and faced the women who were practically strangers. They were both on the retreat leadership team so I knew they were at least well-versed in prayer through the preparation of the retreat. Other than the little bit I learned of them while on retreat I barely knew these women.

They stared at me with wide eyes and looks of concern. One spoke up. "Shannon, whatever you say here stays here. What's going on?"

Relieved I poured out everything that took place that afternoon and Neal's personal struggle with stress and life. They already knew I realized my part in the mess and I told them how I was already working on moving from full-time to part-time ministry in order to be there for the family. But I couldn't continue with a husband who wasn’t willing to try and be on the same page in our faith.

"I need you to pray over me so I know what to do or say. I'm so upset right now I can't think so I need you both to pray."

"Oh, okay.” They fidgeted.

Sensing a discomfort or a lack of experience in intercessory prayer I grabbed both of their hands and held them. "Now, please, pray to God for me in this situation."

They squeezed my hands and we sat in brief silence. Finally someone took the lead. “Heavenly Father, your precious daughter, Shannon, needs you right now. Whatever it is that is going on within her marriage we know you can make it right. We know we can do all things through Christ who gives us strength and we are all here asking you to give Shannon the strength she needs to endure the issues in her marriage.”

“Lord we all have issues in our lives that are hard to handle but we know you give us the courage we need to push through. Please watch over Shannon and Neal and their family. Bring them together in Your name and help them grow closer together with you. Let’s ask Mary to pray.”

Together we recited the Hail Mary:

“Hail Mary, full of grace the Lord is with you. Blessed our you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb Jesus. Holy Mary mother of God pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death, Amen.”

My well was dry. The tears were gone replaced with peace. These women both poured out their hearts for me and I felt peace rest on my shoulders like a warm blanket.

When I came home that evening I realized Neal had not gone to Mass. Frustrated at his indifference and still upset with the exchange earlier in the day I went into the bedroom where he was on the bed watching TV.

"Neal, I need to talk to you about today.”

"Oh you know you were going to talk over me. What I said was true."

I was furious that he seemed non-affected or apologetic by the event. “What? How…”

"You’re nosy and you want to be in everyone's business. You’re always talking."

He attacked my character which made me shut down. It was his sure way to make me stop. I turned to walk away, defeated when I felt a surge of courage and heard an internal whisper. "Don't give up."

I stopped, took a deep breath, and turned back around. He sat on the edge of the bed.

"You said in the letter you have God and our family. You said you want God to take control so you don't lose yourself. Well, the way you acted to me today was not you. In our relationship it is supposed to be God and then us, together, as one.” I used my hands to illustrate the point and clasped my hands together. “We are supposed to help bring one another closer to Him. But I'll be honest with you, what you did today hurt.” I unclasped my hands and pointed a finger at him. “It felt like you were the enemy to me."

Neal sat on the edge of the bed with an expression of defeat but he didn't say a word.

"I don’t deserve to be treated like that and from now on I will call you out when you put my character down again. I don't care if it is in front of your family, your friends, or even your co-workers, I don't talk to you like that and you shouldn't do it to me. You have four days before you go on this retreat." I paused to take a breath before I lost control of the tears pooling in my eyes. "I pray you find what you need there because this isn't right."

Neal never said a word about the exchange. We went about our typical schedule and spoke amicably to one another. He was reluctant to pack when it came time for him to attend the retreat send-off at the church. There was no way for him to get out of going. But he tried.

“I’m taking my own car to the retreat.”

“No you’re not. A bus takes you. Everyone goes on the bus.”

“What if I need to leave. You know how my stomach gets.”

My resolve remained. “You’ll be fine.”

I pulled up to the send-off and smiled at the obvious difference between the men and women's retreats. With the women's send-off there were fewer cars because the men dropped them off at the curb and left instead of coming in to participate in the singing and hugging good-bye. But the parking lot was full at the men's send-off and from the looks of long faces on the men every wife had to drag their husband in by hand. If I’m not mistaken I also believe some women stood by the doors to make sure no one 'escaped'.

During the music and prayer the men were stoic and unresponsive and the women were hopeful and desperate. Essentially we all wanted the same for our husbands - to feel freedom in Christ.

Not until I saw the red headlights of the bus did I breathe a sigh of relief. Thank God.

I prayed every day. I knew what he was experiencing and going through on every single aspect of the retreat so I tailored my prayers to specific requests. Help Neal relax. Give Neal the courage he needs to open up. Open Neal’s heart to hear your message of hope. Help Neal realize his worth.

Plus the friend on the team text me daily to let me know how he felt things were going. He told me who was at his table, which was important because it would be who he would share with and hear about the most. When I found out he was with a young man who was on my Core team in youth ministry I flipped.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. He’s way too charismatic for Neal. Neal will shut down.” This young man was one of my more charismatic and enthusiastic Core members. He had a great testimony for being in his early twenties but I also knew he was one who might rub Neal the wrong way.

“Shannon don’t you think God’s got this?”

Oh, Lord I pray you have this. He’s right I need to trust in you. Your plan is always best. You bring a greater good from everything. Help me to trust in you.

On Sunday, four days later, I attended the return Mass and reception. I patiently waited in the pews with my boys flanked on either side of me who watched for their Daddy. The men processed in as a group and I saw Neal stand next to the young man from my Core team. Well, at least he made it the entire weekend. The men opened Mass with one of their gathering songs from the retreat.

In dismay I watched as my husband put his arm around the young man and sang with his head held high.

Oh my God. You are so good. I can’t believe it. All through Mass I praised God in prayer. I could see the transformation all through Neal’s body language and the genuine smile he gave when he sought us out as we sat in our pew.

At the reception I did my best to not ask questions. I wanted Neal to divulge what he wanted. He held onto my hand and introduced me and the boys to his new friends.

“This guy is the best.” They’d slap Neal on the back and hug him.

“What a great guy. He’s hilarious.”

“You’ve got a good guy here.”

I beamed with pride.

A man I'd known from working at the parish came up when Neal went to get the boys drinks. "Now he isn't just 'Shannon's husband', he has a name."

I smiled but inside his comment pinched. Did Neal feel like he was no one when it came to being here at the church? There wasn't time to dwell on it too much as more and more men and their families came to meet us.

Finally when we found a break to sit down and eat, Neal looked at me with swollen, puffy eyes. "You can say it."

My cheeks burned. I knew what he was thinking but I wasn't going to say anything. That wasn't the point. I shook my head in response.

"Oh come on, I know you want to. Say it, 'I told you so'."

"No." I shook my head emphatically and smiled. "No I don't want to say it. I'm glad to see you had a good experience and I can't wait to hear about it, that's all."

On the car ride home Neal held my hand as he told me about all the personal messages he received from hearing the speakers’ testimonies and what he learned through the group at his table. "We’re going to pray together as a family. And you and I, we are going to pray together too. Every morning."

If he weren't holding onto my hand I might have checked my pulse to see if I were still alive.

“You know that young man that volunteers for you? He had the most influence on me this weekend. To be that young and know God the way he does is awesome. He said something that really resonated and changed how I look at life. ‘It is my job as the husband to bring my wife and children closer to God.’ He’s right. It’s my job.”

My heart stopped. Is this really happening?

By the time we were in the house tears welled up in Neal's eyes from recalling all the ways in which the retreat touched his heart. "I went to confession for the first time since we'd been married. Eleven years.”

He admitted he went to our parish priest and I felt my knees get weak. In the past he’d get upset with me if I went to reconciliation with him because Neal felt like he didn't need to know our business because he was my boss. Neal had at least five priests from other parishes to choose from to confess to on the retreat and he chose our parish priest. Amazing.

He stopped and looked at me real serious. "It was in confession I felt worthy."

My breath caught. I reached out and hugged him because I knew how important that moment must have been. When he walked back into the bedroom I looked up, held up a hand in praise and mouthed, "Thank you, God."

Back in the bedroom he showed me a few things he'd saved and then he turned to me and gently held onto my arms as he looked me in the eye. "Shannon, if I have not been supportive of you and what God is calling you to and if I have not appreciated what you are doing or respected you the way you need me to, I am so sorry."

In one breath I saw God through Neal and heard him speak to me giving everything I cried out to receive. My knees buckled.

Neal still had a grip on my arm, he held on to me, bent down, and wrapped his arms around me as I cried. “I know God is calling you to do something and I believe in you. I’m always here for you.”

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