Two things shape us and make us who we are.

Pains leave their scars,

While Pleasures shine like stars.

Eventually we understand,

Their intentions were not planned.

We drove away from a beautiful seaside town with peaceful coastlines, beaches and scenery, to arrive a couple of days later at a jam packed, smoke filled city with  bumper to bumper buses, taxis and cars. High rise brown buildings lined both sides of the streets. Graffiti covered almost every public wall. Shattered glass lay piece by piece around every bus shelter. Homeless people lay in doorways, parkways and tunnels. Immediately it felt like we had arrived home. This was where we were meant to be for sure.

We fell naturally into the groove of city life, we loved the buzz and busyness of our new home City.

Months passed as we easily settled in. We were among some lovely people, living in our sixth home, we got our first mortgage. Life was good, plans were coming together. We were very happy and in a strong position for success.

In just over a year of living in this city, uncertainty regarding the Reverends private life began to ring its unwelcome bells. I recognised those familiar bell ringers.

I called the police twice, possibly three times because he hadn’t arrived home and it was long past midnight.

The first time this happened I was panic stricken. Drug and alcohol addiction was prevalent. Along with prostitution, domestic violence and abuse. Knife crime was rampant. Aids and HIV had only recently begun claiming its victims. This City was rife with all these addictions and diseases as well as Hepertitis B and C.

During this time frame many casualties presented themselves not just among our church community but we came face to face with vulnerable and dangerous situations on our doorstep too. The Reverend would not hesitate to get involved in potentially hostile circumstances if it meant he could help or rescue one precious person. The first time I met a self harmer, she arrived unannounced on our doorstep for help. She showed me her one inch wide, six inch long scars along her inner thighs. This wonderful teenage child had veiwed herself so worthless she had slashed her own thighs to ribbons to mask her greater pain of violent abuse.

Expecting him home by ten thirty at the latest, by midnight my naivety and lack of experience of habitual obsessions, crime and self harm fuelled my fears regarding my husbands wellbeing.

When he did come home, police were in our living room, I burst into tears with relief. He gave his reasons for being so late. He was believable.

Typically I soon forgot about these infrequencies, writing them off as the mysteries of men, who can lose all sense of time when out and about at work.

I clearly remember being in bed one night in our new family home. Our two children were very young and fast asleep. Suddenly I was awake, feeling alarmed! I was aware of a dark spiritual presence in our bedroom. I sensed something evil and menacing.

I woke my husband. I asked him to deal with it. He did. The room felt right again as it should. When Jesus said we would drive out demons in His Name, we believed Him.

Casting my mind back to this experience now, in 2017, I wonder, had my husband through his curiosity, invited an unholy spiritual force, the Grey Visitor, into the most intimate room in our home and marriage?

I sincerely believe the dark spirit left when the Reverend used his God given authority to command it to leave. Sadly he invited it back again, leading to even greater darkness.

I cannot recall what sent me looking for what I did not want to find. Maybe it was that same unsettling presence that I grew to recognise when something dubious was causing unrest. This was to become a way of life, checking for evidence of the Grey One’s enigmas.

There it was before me, in print. The very first piece of evidence to give me a clue where my suspicions lay regarding the Reverends mysterious traits.

I had not seen or heard of anything like this before.
I had to confront him, why was he getting involved in this stuff, it seemed impossible to believe. This was not just looking at pictures of naked women. It was far more immoral, not illegal, but grossly offending against our faith and wedlock. As well as objectifying other human beings.

Fantasy was always his answer. It’s not real he would promise me. It’s just fantasy.

I was walloped for the first time in my life with paralysing horror! I had no reference points for anything like this, it was way off my chart. I dont think I knew anything about pornography, it was not a word on my lips or in my head! I was floundering and I would continue to flounder with every exposure of a deeper level to which the Grey One would continue to sink.

I had no idea what to do, I had no one who I could confide in. I would never raise this subject with anyone else.

We had zero preparation for this stuff in the seventies as young people. I sincerely hope more awareness is available for young adults and couples today, specifically those whose career depends on a moral lifestyle.

My only experience was The Grey one, and he was telling me what to believe, that there was no need to worry, that fantasy was normal.

How could I argue, I was completely uneducated about pornography. I had no alternative but to take his word for it. I could not expose the Reverend, he was my husband. I would be nothing less than loyal to him.

I loved him, he loved me I knew it. He was an amazing father and husband. A strong Christian and a dedicated Reverend. Compared to all I held dear in him, the fantasy exploration that I had discovered was so off the scale, it was impossible to anticipate the Reverend would take his searching deeper.

It didn’t make any sense to me that this wonderful man would be any less than loyal to me.

How very wrong I was!

The next time evidence crept up on me I wasn’t looking for it. The details of which may never be published, definitely not now, not here at least. The Reverends abnormal behaviour went directly against his earlier promise to me. It was shattering.

Suspicion began its long slow and painful purpose of corroding my mind. It would dominate my future like slow growing poison ivy, intertwining itself tightly around me layer by layer. Burning painfully from my core, damaging my emotional wellbeing and strangling the breath out of my marriage.

It was like an earthquake happened in my living room, I had nothing to hold on to, there seemed no place of refuge. How could I have prepared myself for this. In those brief minutes his written words caused me to fall between the cracks of secure expectation into a chasm of dark despair.

I became unhinged that day, and never got hinged back together as I was before. My marriage, my opinion of the Reverend, my lovely husband was sullied. I had become aware of a dimension of life I didn’t know existed and definitely wish I hadn’t.

My emotional wellbeing was impared forever in that moment. It would never be the same again!

I would never be the same again.

A happy man marries the women he loves. An even happier man loves the women he marries.

My world grew larger when I married my handsome husband. My children and I are blessed and have benefitted enormously from the relational associations and friends we have, because of who my husband is, for which I am very grateful.

My husband was extremely protective by nature, his instinct to protect was strong. We were only married for a matter of weeks, when one evening I had gone into the bedroom for something. One of my absolutely greatest fears was larger than life on the bedroom floor.

I let out this blood curdling, sharp ear piercing scream as I was desperate to alert my new super hero to rescue me from the biggest blackest ugliest furriest eight legged spider I had ever ever seen! I should have warned the Reverend about my intense repulsion at the sight of these creatures!

As I did not expect him to come running into the room faster than the speed of light with a posture posed to fight off an axe murderer! All bright red, eyes bulging, and his biceps bursting like Popeye having just eaten spinach!

Married to the Handsome Gift of God. His application for a career as a Reverend was accepted. We were settling into our new home and town with a family in the making.

We were both quite stubborn and defiant in our own set of ideals when we were first married.

Considering wedded bliss, it can take years to mould together to actually become bonded as a couple. When you do, it is precious to have that one person in the world who complements you, and both can appreciate each other’s differences. Then embrace and accept them and with patience and love make them work for the advantage of your marriage and family life.

It is well worth all the conflict it takes to get there.

I admit, as a young wife I could begin an argument about which way the wind blew! I could occasionally exhibit a very short fuse and wouldn’t be very tolerant if things didn’t go my way, as I genuinely thought I knew best.

The problem was that the Reverend genuinely thought he knew best too. We were two firebrands so sparks were often flying! In the heat of the moment the Reverend would leave the house, go for a walk or a drive to cool off.

Over a period of time intuition provoked perceptions which messed with my mind. When the Reverend left the house after an argument it caused me even greater turmoil, anger and hostility towards him, as I couldn’t trust him not to do something foolish to spite me.

After a year of living in the lovely holiday town, we had a toddler and another baby on the way, while being very excited to be making another baby, my worries grew.

He would be late home, and then it began to happen more often, I would be pacing the kitchen floor, waiting for his car to pull up on the driveway, well past midnight sometimes, I had no way of contacting him to put my mind at ease.

There was always a reasonable explanation. He was kept behind talking. He lost his way or the car broke down. There was an accident. Or he fell asleep when he parked up to take a break because he was tired!

I had no way to prove anything other than what he had said, I had no choice but to accept his word and believe him.

The alternative, that he was lying, to cover up an awful truth was unthinkable at the time.

Already I was picking up on behaviours that signalled all was not as it should be. I was losing confidence in his reliability, which was very very sad. I loved him so much and I knew married life was not easy and the perfect man or woman doesn’t exist. I was troubled and felt uneasy for some undisclosed reason regarding my husband.

A couple were coming for dinner, they were arriving at seven pm. I had prepared the meal, fed, bathed and put our two babies, by now, down for the night, tidied the house laid the table. Everything was ready to greet our guests just before they arrived. There was only one problem!

The Reverend wasn’t home! This was a really big deal for me when I was in my twenties. Putting on a dinner party for guests who I didn’t know very well. It further added to the stress that their host was late.

He arrived at the same time as them, apologising prefusely, explaining that he had fallen asleep on the beach, which amused everyone. I complied with the majority and laughed along with our guests. But sadly it served as more damage to the wall of trust in the Reverends reliability and honesty.

I have learned that it takes years to build up trust, all it takes is suspicion, not proof, to destroy it.

So what if the Reverend hadn’t been completely straight with me, maybe I set too high an expectation on him, and judged him unfairly when he didn’t arrive home on time. Who wouldn’t choose to make a good excuse rather than find themselves in conflict?

The benefit of the doubt was the only way I could move on from my disquiet as it was only suspicion. What I was actually suspicious of I had no idea at the time.

EC.

Hang my locket around your neck,
wear my ring on your finger.
Love is invincible facing danger and death.
Passion laughs at the terrors of hell.
The fire of love stops at nothing,
It sweeps everything before it.
Flood waters can’t drown love,
Torrents of rain can’t put it out.
Love can’t be bought, love can’t be sold.
                                                         Song of Solomon 8:6-8 The Message

You may or may not share our Christian faith, or exercise any faith at all. Please don’t allow my strong reference to our beliefs and spiritual experiences put you off. If I didn’t include these testimonials that underpin the personal foundation for our lives, our marriage and vocation, I would only be telling half the story. It is essential to make certain everyone understands the vast polarisation between the very wonderful and the very rueful expressions of my husbands’ two characters was actually possible.

There was no doubt in my mind that he was the one I would spend the rest of my life with. We were compatible in many ways, but opposite when it came to football, rugby, cricket, sewing, knitting and crochet.

I was so in love with this man, I trusted him completely. I knew he could take over from my parents to defend my wellbeing!

The biggest contribution I brought into our marriage was my want of him. My knight in shining armour, the answer to all my uncertaintanties. I would never have to walk alone in the dark ever again. The dark being one of my fears as a young woman.

My childlike expectation was that we would enjoy a long, happy and exciting marriage. Any troubles and challenges we faced would be insignificant compared with our happiness together. It would be his primary responsibility to make sure his future family were provided for and protected. It was my responsibility alongside part time jobs when necessary, to make a home that would create an environment for refuge, nurture, love, comfort and safety. This was the eighties and I was more than delighted to be the primary homemaker.

Our combined weaknesses and flaws were already set up to fail each other, as I had the gullible vulnerability that would provide the ever expanding allowances for the wilful indiscretions my loved one needed, to satisfy his troubled mind.

We were a perfect storm! I needed him, he needed a secret keeper!

As I look back I remember that nothing was too much for my husband to do for me. He ‘pandered’ to my every whim. Of course I wasn’t intentionally expecting this of him. What I interpreted as him being romantic and hopelessly in love with me, was combined  with his want to please and possibly earn my love as a probable result of the neglect he suffered as an infant. He didn’t believe he had a choice, his default was set to give me every pleasure he could, to please me in every way possible. Making him the answer to the surfacing of my insecurities, to compensate for them, to step in when I wavered, or felt overwhelmed.

Subtly, it was the unseen child in him that subsequently perpetuated my dependancies. It must have been tiresome, the constant pressure to please. Neither of us recognised the precedent we were setting. The wheels buckled under the pressure occasionally, without realisation we were navigating our own ruin. Never imagining one day the tandum would completely fall apart.

The needs of the child in me was met with the needs of the child in him. Heaven help us if he ever became intimately obligated to another women!

I cannot explain how i have I managed to astride the double life of Reverend Grey that we sustained for over thirty years. I can only invite you into our story at the very beginning of our marriage and describe the backdrop. The backstage, wings and props behind every scene and what unfolded behind the public presentation of our ‘Perfect Life’.
I was in character, dressed for the role I was born for and knew I would love. Setting aside promising hopes, dreams and expectations of how I imagined our story would evolve. There were no rehearsals, we were given no lines to learn and neither of us had any experience of the expectations that lay before us. There was only going to be one take of the ‘Drama’ of our life.

Lights – Camera – Action. We’re on!
It’s the opening scene of the very real life presentation called
‘Reverend Grey’.
I assumed my character ~ I did my best for the audience of Mr and Mrs Public.

EC.

We had a fabulous holiday, all together, our entire family, children and grandchildren. All except the one who was the Reverend. With him being completely lost in the Grey One’s identity, he was missed, but he couldn’t join us.

Easter is one of the main events in the Christian calendar. It was my husbands favourite celebration, remembering the finished work of Jesus. Again he is missed.

Too awkward… What could we have talked to him about…? Where would he have slept…? Were a few of the comments the children made when we talked about his absence. I wouldn’t be alone anymore in wondering who he was texting, or what he was looking at on the Internet. Who he was thinking about in his silence or why he has taken a selfie with only himself in the frame. When the Grey One was a secret that only he and I knew of, I kept those fears and suspicions to myself to protect him. I protected him because I love him, I protected the children because they love him.

He would have loved being with us, playing with his grandchildren. Building castles and digging holes in the sand. Playing beach cricket and swimming in the sea. Many were the nooks and crannies for a game of hide and seek in the huge farm house he paid for, for us all to enjoy together. I could hear him in my head chuckling in his high pitched laugh that would bring tears to his eyes as he got one over on one of his little off spring, who would never give up in their search for Papa.

He was my trusted wingman when all the family were together, we were chief mama and papa. We led the convoy, organised the food and other arrangements. Our hands continually reaching for the purse to treat the little ones to ice cream and the bigger ones to bigger treats.

This time, I feel somewhat redundant of my long running role without my wingman. It’s ok, I am adjusting to a different position in our family dynamic. I have very capable sons and daughters.

Though at the moment I feel like I am salt on the table without pepper and bread without butter, a knife without a fork. Trying to eat and drink with my right hand because the left hand is missing. Most times he was the right hand, I was the left, but where family was concerned, he was my left hand. He would not stop until all the tasks were completed. Much fun and laughter would be enjoyed as even the chores became an opportunity for fun and games with the children.

It was his choice to trade us in. Even though it wasn’t what he intended. He took a big risk and he lost. He’s not used to losing. He has always been the winner, always landed on his feet. He may not have landed yet, still hoping to land sure footed I am sure. All our affection and fondness is still here for him when he is ready. There is no more ‘Cake and eat it’ – he cannot have us and promiscuity, pornography etc any longer. He knows what he needs to do. Then our unconditional love and forgiveness is his.

I should be relieved and free of the Grey Ones betrayals but I miss the lovely one, the other one who is the love of my life.

• Be thankful for those who love you!
• Be thankful for their loyalty!
• Be thankful for the joys!

Make the most of the moment it’s our choice…

Happy Easter all,

EC.