The beginning of grace... (Part 3/3)

        The months that followed our union were worse than any I had ever lived.  Now, I belonged to him.
I remember one night not long after he totaled one of his cars while driving drunk, he found the keys to his sports car that his brother had hidden from him, and off he went.  A few hours passed, and there was a knock at the door.  I looked out and saw a police car, and so I opened the door and stepped out onto the porch where an officer stood holding Nel by the arm.  He was covered in blood, pieces of glass dug into his skin, visibly sticking out of his face and arms, and yes, very much drunk.  I was speechless.
“Does this guy live here?” the officer asked.
“He does…”
The officer went on to tell me that Nel had driven his sports car across the median on I-30, and proceeded to drive directly under an oncoming 18-wheeler, which then ran over the front end of his tiny car, barely missing the passenger seat where he had been sitting.  After hearing that, I couldn't understand, first of all, how he made it out alive, but second of all, why this officer wasn't taking him to the hospital, or jail.
“Ma’am, he refused medical attention, and our jails are full tonight.  We called INS (immigration), and they don’t want him either.”
“Officer, isn't there anything you can do with him?  We aren't safe here when he’s drunk, and now we don’t have a car to go anywhere.”  I was literally crying, begging this officer to do something.  His only response was, “We charged him with a DUI, but we can’t hold him.  Just give us a call if he tries to hurt you or the children.  Have a good night, ma‘am.”
To say that I was baffled by all of this would be an understatement.  It merely reinforced my feelings of isolation and desperation, the feeling that there was no way out.  Though my faith in Christ was growing, I still felt obligated by this marriage certificate to stick around, and so I learned how to “play his game”.
Over the remainder of our time together, things progressively got worse.  But, I became quieter and more obliging while he was sober, gaining his trust, as he was generally paranoid that I was looking for an escape.  His sober self became more permissive, more relaxed, and began allowing me more freedoms, such as grocery shopping without him, and visiting family without having to check in as often.  All the while, his drunken self became worse, becoming violent and destructive.  His verbal taunts became physical marks.  Things had gotten so bad that even his brothers told me that they had had their fill of his nonsense, and would no longer come to my aid if the boys and I were in danger, and because they were tired of fighting him, they would simply leave if things got out of hand.
I became more bold in protecting my children while he was drunk, as I knew he wouldn't remember my actions once he was sober, fighting him if need be.  There were nights when I would lock him out of the house, thinking we were safe, only to watch him punch through the windows and climb in after us.  He wanted the boys, always saying that he needed to “take them away”, that they didn't need to be here, which always sent chills down my spine.  His drunken nights turned our home into a war zone - shattered glass on the floor, blood spatter on the walls, broken furniture, and tables turned upside down.  It was routine, with me cleaning it all up once things had settled down again.
I had to be so prepared for his drunken nights, that while he was sober, I would do things like rearrange the furniture in our home in order to aid in my escapes, as it had become the norm to literally have to run for our lives when he was in a drunken rage.  I would claim that I was just “freshening up” the look of our home, and he would even praise me for it, when in reality, I was strategically placing furniture items in places where it would be easy to barricade doors, or trip him up, anything to slow him down as we got away.
As scared as I would be when he was in a rage, I would act as though I wanted to hug him, just so that I could sneak the car keys out of his pocket so that the boys and I would have a chance to get away.  Too many nights, I would have to do little things here and there to prepare to get way, like quietly unlocking the front door…  and then waiting until he wasn't watching to sneak the baby bag outside the door…  wait until he wasn't watching again, preparing for the moment when he would be distracted or passed out just enough, as it wouldn't be for long, so that I could snatch the babies out of their beds and run to the car, hopefully getting inside and locking the doors before he could reach us.  Most nights, for time’s sake, there would only be enough time to sit the boys in the front seat, hold onto them with my right hand, while using my left hand to steer, and I would speed away while he often chased after the car, trying to bust out the windows.  When I felt like I was far enough away, I would pull over and buckle them into their car seats.  Sometimes, I would go to my parents house, while other times, whether it was due to the time of night or my own feelings of shame, we would just spend the night in the car, and not return home until I knew he was sober.
I knew that we couldn't carry on like this, the boys and I spending at least one weekend a month in a ratty hotel, which was all that we could afford, or asking to stay the weekend with my parents, all the while simply returning home as soon as things had settled down.  He was dangerous, and our need to get out was urgent.  I continued to pray for a way of escape from harms way, while still being sure that divorce wasn't an option, as he hadn't dismissed me, nor could I prove yet that he had committed adultery, despite my suspicions.
         At some point, during the winter months of 2010, as I was gaining his trust more and more, I began to mention the idea of me getting a job.  I presented the idea only occasionally, generally around bill time, as it was more apparent to him that money was tight, despite his having a good job, since so much of his money went to alcohol.  He eventually consented, but with conditions.  I had to work with Hispanic women, as he held very little regard for Americans, and a job where there were no men.  I found a listing for a professional maid service in a Latino magazine, and so I applied and was hired soon after.  Another condition was that the boys had to be kept by his female relatives, or the wives of his own friends, no daycare.  I wasn't extremely comfortable with this, but I knew that I had to make money somehow, and I knew that these were kind women, and so I agreed, praying that things would soon begin to change.  As he grew tired of driving me to and from work, he requested that I find someone to carpool with.  Luckily, there was no one readily available.  In January of 2011, he agreed to let me buy a car, again, with conditions.  It had to be in his name.  I prayed desperately for this car to be made mine and not his, as I knew that it wouldn't truly be resourceful if he could take it at any time.
As we shopped around for cars, we finally decided on one to purchase.  As we were required to insure it before signing the final papers, we left the dealership to visit his insurance agent.  I still felt so disappointed that my money was going to a car that wouldn't truly be mine, and I tried hard to appear happy about buying the car for the sake of convenience, which was all he cared about.  As we were applying for insurance, the rates that were quoted to him were outrageous.  Whether it was due to his DUIs or car accidents, I’m not sure, but what happened next just about sent me to the moon with excitement.  He asked the agent to give us a quote using my information, which she did, and those rates were much more acceptable, thus the insurance was bought in my name.  We walked out of the agent’s office and got into the car, at which point he starts the car and says, “Well, I guess we’ll have to put the car in your name then.”
I couldn't believe my ears.  He didn't realize that the car didn't have to be in my name for insurance purposes, but I wasn't about to educate him!  It was all I could do not to shout for joy, praising God as his providence unfolded, but I casually said, “Okay.”  I felt like my insides were going to burst, and I knew that we were on our way to freedom.  Going back to the dealer and signing the paper work to buy the car in my name was so hard to do without crying.  It was as if I had been locked in a dark room for over a year, and now someone was handing over the key, literally.
As I continued working, God granted me favor at my new job, and the boss, who wasn't the nicest person, was becoming generous for no real reason at all, always giving me many of the highest paying homes to clean, and always concerned with how I was doing personally, even though she knew nothing of my home life.  At the same time, all of a sudden, both of the women who had been alternating days to babysit the boys while I was at work became otherwise obligated and could no longer watch them.  One of them, who had been seeking full time employment for over two years, received a job offer.  The other lady, who had two daughters, the youngest of which was nine years old, had been praying for years to have another baby, and she became pregnant…  what timing!  I saw this as a hiccup in my plan, as it could prevent me from working.  I doubted God’s sovereignty, as this was a new concept to me.  I went to my boss and explained to her my dilemma.  She told me to wait a moment, and she went to the back office and made a phone call.  She talked to the owner of a well-respected daycare nearby and offered to exchange cleaning services for discounted childcare for my boys.  I was blown away.  Suddenly, all of my dependence on this man was beginning to unravel, and my eyes were being drawn to a God who obviously loved me more than I could imagine.
         This idea of God being in control, being sovereign over all things, believers and non-believers alike, was so hard for me to wrap my mind around.  And there He was, proving it to me, taking care of details that were completely out of my control.
         He was preparing a way... and I was falling in love with a Savior.

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed us in the Beloved. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight making known to us the mystery of his will, according to his purpose, which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth."    Ephesians 1:3-10


Read "The beginning of grace... (Part 1/3)"
Read "The beginning of grace... (Part 2/3)"