Rich in Love: When God Rescues Messy People (7 page)

By the fifth day, I knew the real reason I drank was to try to forget my childhood. It was my only escape from those horrible memories. They haunted and tormented me. I could understand why my sister drank. There were memories she would never talk about. And my brother had been injured in a horrifying accident as a child. Because my father would not take him to the doctor, this young, energetic boy became paralyzed on the right side of his body for the rest of his life. He, too, drank excessively.

As I faced my childhood memories, I realized one of the things that hurt me so much was that my dad wasn’t there for me as a child—wasn’t there for any of us children. And there were so many things my family suffered.

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I was doing the same thing to my boys that my dad had done to me. I was never there for them. I was always working, traveling, and drinking. They were watching me treat Irene the way I had watched my dad treat my mom, which I hated to see as a child. I was doing the same things my dad did and, to my best memory, his dad had done as well.

Funny thing was, sitting there stuck in that jail, I finally got that I was running and hiding from myself. Sitting still forced me to think about my sins. The pain and damage I had caused to those I loved. I was miserable. I hated what I had become.

As I think back on those days, I hear the apostle Paul: “I want to do what is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I do what I hate” (Rom. 7:15). I hated what I did and who I became when I drank. And that really wasn’t who I was deep inside. I believe Irene knew that too, and that’s why she stayed for so long.

I felt sorry for Irene and what I had done to her, but I was caught in this endless downward spiral, generation after generation, headed straight to hell. I didn’t want my kids and my grandkids to live out that same hurt. I wanted to stop it. I wanted to change. I wanted a new start at life, a do-over. I’d made a mess of my life, and I was going to live out the rest for God.

I had tried to stop drinking in the past, and it hadn’t worked—at least not for long. I knew I couldn’t do it on my own. I needed God’s help, the same God I had said was unfair and I didn’t want to have anything to do with. But I had nowhere else to go for the kind of help I needed. So I prayed—or should I say
bargained
with God: “Okay, I surrender. If you take away my desire to drink, restore my family, I will follow you. Wherever it takes me. Whatever that means, I will do it.”

I knew I really didn’t know what that meant, but whatever it was, I was going to do it.

When I finished my prayer, I instantly knew something was different. I wasn’t sure what it was, or if it was for real. It was like a huge weight had been taken off my shoulders. I felt free!

At that moment, my name came over the loudspeaker. I was getting out. When I went outside, I found that my truck had been stripped. Normally I would have been furious about someone tampering with my Black Beauty. Now I was just glad it still ran.

I drove down the steep hill from the old Ventura County Jail to Highway 101 to go home. I could see the ocean—it was huge and open. I wasn’t meant to be boxed in.

And then it came to me.
Today is the first day of the rest of my life.
I’d heard the phrase before, but it had no meaning to me then. It was stupid and cliché and sounded good to the people who were saying it. But now, for me, it was a powerful, freeing truth.

I went home to be with those who loved me and prayed they would forgive me for the pain I had caused them.

forgiveness? are you crazy?

“Just a minute, Mary,” I said, putting my comb and scissors down to answer the phone.

“Irene.”

It was Domingo. He sounded broken, ashamed. But I had made up my mind. Our marriage was done. I was done. I wanted a new beginning. I was beaten down, exhausted, and tired of fighting. I didn’t want to say terrible things anymore. I wanted to change and make God proud of me. I wanted to be restored.

But, even though I didn’t want to admit it, I was going to miss Domingo. After all, we’d been together ten years. I would miss the Domingo who was soft and caring. The father of my boys.

I wanted to slam the phone down, not because I was angry, but because I was heartbroken.

“Irene,” he said, his voice soft yet full of conviction, “I know you’re leaving me. I know you want a divorce. But you just gotta hear me out.” He spoke slowly and methodically. “We’ve been married for ten years. In those ten years I’ve given you the worst years of my life, and it’s probably the worst my life will ever be.

“I’m a new man now. I will never drink again. I’m going to be somebody different. Do you want the new me? Or do you want someone else to have me? I feel you deserve the best years of my life. If you leave now, you’ll have only had my worst years, and someone else is going to get the best of me. But I believe it should be you. Do you want me to be someone different to someone else? Or will you forgive me?”

My emotions flipped to anger. I wanted to scream, “How dare you say you’re going to go with someone else and you’re going to give her those good years I deserved!” Instead, I quietly hung up and grabbed the comb and scissors so I could finish Mary’s haircut.

“You’re not going to believe this, Mary,” I said. “That was Domingo.” I proceeded to share with her what he’d said.

“Honey,” Mary said in her soft, sweet voice, “he’s asking you to forgive him. You have to forgive him.”

“Mary, I can’t forgive my husband. Come on!”

She gently grabbed my hand, stopping me from working on her hair. “Honey,” she said again, “God hates divorce. You must forgive your husband because he is asking for you to forgive him.”

Angry words flooded my brain. I wanted to snap at her, “Lady, you come from your little kumbaya world with your little Christian friends, and you don’t really know what my life is about. So don’t you sit there and tell me I have to forgive him. I don’t have to forgive him.” But I clamped my mouth shut and didn’t say a word.

On my drive home, I was still upset. “Why, Lord?” I asked. “Why do I have to forgive him? It’s not right.”

I wrestled with God the entire way home. I wanted a different life. I didn’t deserve all of this. “Please, God,” I pleaded as I maneuvered through rush-hour traffic. “Don’t make me forgive my husband.”

Then God spoke to me. “Irene, I stretched my arms out like this—not only for you, but for Domingo, too.”

I could instantly see the arms of Jesus stretched out on the cross. I felt so ashamed. I wasn’t any better than Domingo. I was as much of a sinner as he was—just in different ways. Jesus died for me, and I gladly accepted his forgiveness. How could I not forgive my husband when Jesus already had? God forgave me, so I had to forgive my husband.

I knew the right thing to do, but it was so hard. I needed to trust God. I had to obey him. For me there was no other choice.

a new start

You’d think I’d have been excited about a new start for us, but the truth was, I still didn’t love Domingo. Nor did I fully trust him. I couldn’t erase ten years of ugliness overnight and still resented that God had not brought me a new husband. It didn’t take long to see that God was already working in my husband’s heart, truly making him a new creature. But my heart remained stone-cold. In the beginning, I forced myself to pray that God would heal my heart and teach me to love my husband. In time, it became easier. Eventually the prayers became the honest plea of my heart.

While he was sitting in jail, Domingo had asked God to help him be a good husband and father. And he knew that in order to get his family back, he would have to mend a lot of relationships—especially the one with our elder son. Anthony and I were very close, and he wanted to protect me, so he, too, struggled with hatred for his dad. We found out later that he was outside our bedroom door, bargaining with God, the night Domingo’s leg broke. He told God he would commit his life to him if God would protect me. When I think of the pain and anguish we caused our boys, I shudder.

Domingo made some immediate changes in his life. First he quit racing, and then he told his brother-in-law he would work only forty hours a week. If his brother-in-law wasn’t okay with those hours, then Domingo would find another job. His brother-in-law agreed to accept Domingo’s new hours.

True to his word, when five o’clock came around and the racers rolled in with cases of beer, Domingo rolled out. No one understood his new behavior. What was wrong with hanging out and drinking a few beers? Domingo knew that in order to completely change, he had to change his friends and habits completely.

Domingo also started listening to the tapes I brought home from church. He was still not a Christian and was reluctant to go to church. His memories of all the phonies he’d seen in church were too persistent for him to ignore. But he listened to those tapes as he drove. A year or so later, he promised he’d start going to church with me. And he did.

The Sunday he came for the first time, I was so excited. I kept looking at Domingo and smiling. We were going to church as a
family
. My long-ago dream was becoming a reality. I warmed and rejoiced inside because God had answered my many prayers.

Sometime after that, he gave his life to Christ and completely surrendered. And then Domingo’s faith took off. That day was the beginning of a new life for the Garcias.

I must admit it has been difficult to write these things about Domingo, because he is no longer the man he was before he quit drinking. But I write them so people can see how God can take two wicked hearts and turn them his way.

I had been so busy looking at Domingo’s behavior that I took my eyes off the cross. When I understood that it’s God’s business to change hearts, not mine, and that I had to work on me and not Domingo, I stood back and let God do the changing. I finally understood that my job was to pray for my husband, encourage him, and not Bible beat him. That was when the change in him really began to show.

Years later, when my husband shared his testimony about this time in our lives, he said, “I knew there had to be a God when my wife kept her mouth shut.” He was right. It was God’s doing. I was learning many things about the power of God and realized I had the power in Christ to overcome the obstacles I faced in every area of my life.

The beautiful thing was, God answered a prayer I had been praying for years. He gave me the new husband I wanted—only it was Domingo. I shudder when I think of my plan to leave my husband and that I prayed for God to take Domingo’s life. I’m extremely thankful that God worked a miracle and that I am still married to the same boy I fell in love with at the drinking fountain so long ago.

honeymoon years

All of a sudden I felt as though I was the most important person in the world to Domingo. The dark veil seemed to have been torn away from his eyes, and I felt beautiful for the first time in my life. There were times when I walked into Domingo’s work unexpectedly, our eyes would meet, and he would glow.

We started to date and spend a lot of time together. We went out to dinner. We bought a new family boat and went waterskiing a lot, and I learned how to ride dirt and street motorcycles so I could keep up with all three of my boys. We went on vacations, played, and got to know each other. Even staying home was wonderful.

My boys began to build a relationship with their dad. When they worked together in the garage, I could hear them laughing and joking around. He taught them how to build and repair things. One time they built a dune buggy, then went exploring our hills. We spent hours at the dinner table, laughing and enjoying each other. While I cleaned up, these three boys planned Garcia adventures.

Best of all, there was no longer a dark cloud over our family. I was married to a man who loved me. My boys were thriving. I didn’t feel I deserved their love after I’d put them through so much hell. Yet miraculously they forgave me. And their dad.

Then the unthinkable happened. I fell in love with my husband. He had become the most important person in my life—my best friend. I was content and felt so safe. Safe! With
my
husband! I looked forward to spending time with him. His body language spoke loudly—I was the one he wanted to be with, and most of all, I was the one he loved. I know there was a newlywed glow inside me. To love and be loved is an incredible gift from God.

We were all blown away by the changes occurring in Domingo. I was so proud of him. And I sensed his pride in me. I will always count those years as the best in my life. I love my life now, but that was a very special time. We went from the deepest darkness of hatred and meanness to the bright light of love, excitement, and joy. It’s sad to think we were married for over ten years and were only then getting to know each other. Still, I thank God for our belated honeymoon. It was then my broken heart was healed.

The word
perseverance
came to me often during those honeymoon years, and still does. God taught me what it means to persevere through the darkness when all hope has been lost, when it seems as though there will never be a positive outcome. It took many years, it wasn’t easy, it took trusting and obeying God even when it felt like the wrong thing to do, but joy and remarkable change did come. But I had to persevere to find that out.