Blinded (19 page)

A
SLIGHT DROP WAKES YOU UP
.

You remember that moment between Lisa and yourself.

You remember that prayer.

You realize that God answered it in the strangest of ways.

T
HE CITYSCAPE OF CHICAGO
is in full view from your tiny window. The plane circles the city and you look down to see the great waters of Lake Michigan. Sun is piercing the buildings and they glow in the midmorning light.

You think of going back home. Of greeting Lisa and embracing the kids.

What is there to tell? To say?

I want a change, Lord
.

And you don’t know exactly what that means. Maybe it’s in some of the late-night habits you have. Maybe it’s in the way you view the rest of the world.

Maybe it’s with Lisa
.

But what do you want?

Maybe it’s not necessarily about me
.

You have lived with this woman for some time and have loved and supported and provided for her. But …

I want to be her friend again
.

The high-rise buildings and skyscrapers pass by and you feel their comforting familiarity.

The suburbs, sprawled out for miles, the endless towns with so many lives, so many people, so many individuals.

This is the life you’ve made and the life you’ve been given, Michael. Be happy with it. Be thankful for it
.

You might not be sitting here on this plane. One slight step or detour and everything could be over.

You breathe in. You look at your hands and can feel them trembling.

So many things await you down there.

A job that needs figuring out. A company that thought it knew where it was going and now has to start over. You’ll develop a new plan and try for the best. But you’ll be starting at square one.

Square one
.

Then there’s the family that needs figuring out. And more specifically, a marriage that has needed CPR for some time.

Good friends from church can’t help. Counseling can’t help. Even every little thing you’ve tried to do can’t help. You can’t solve this.

You don’t want to admit it but there is really only one way.

God I need you now and I need you more than ever before
.

A packed interstate passes by below. Thousands of people like you, trying to live their lives the best way they can, are waiting, hoping for the best but making dumb decisions and living with those consequences.

Help me to know what to do and where to go
.

Because you know Lisa is ultimately not the answer.

Your kids—as much as you love them and as much as they are a part of your very being and the very fabric of your soul—are not the answer.

A bank account and a secure job and a home are definitely not the answers.

And wandering around, flailing around in the darkness, trying to desperately look for something that fulfills you … none of these things are the answer.

I am
.

As passengers begin filing off the plane, you stand and begin walking and see the cute attendant looking at you with a grin.

“Is this home for you?” she casually asks.

“Yes, it is,” you say.

“Then welcome home.”

“Thanks.”

You walk through the gate and through the masses at O’Hare and go toward baggage claim. You turn on your phone, and a few minutes later you feel the vibrating call coming in.

You look at the phone and feel your heart tighten.

There is one name on the phone.

Lisa
.

You look at the phone, eager to hear her voice, eager to talk to her, eager to try and figure out a way to make things work for the two of you.

Today is the first day of the rest of your life
.

It’s a saying you’ve heard before. And today, that saying fits.

“Hey, stranger,” the voice says.

Hearing it is soothing. You just want to take her in your arms and never let go.

“Hi.”

“You sound tired.”

“Long night.”

“The kids miss you.”

“I miss them.” You pause for a moment, then add, “I miss you.”

Lisa laughs. “You weren’t gone long enough to miss me.”

I’ve been gone for some time
.

She talks about going to the grocery store and the day ahead and how the kids are doing. You listen attentively as you walk toward the baggage claim.

“So I’ll see you soon, right?”

“Very soon,” you say. “It’ll be nice to be back home.”

“I’ll say. Having you around will give me a little break.”

“I love you, Lisa,” you say.

“You too,” she says automatically.

But you know you love Lisa. Sometimes a saying and a feeling and a life can be taken for granted. Sometimes it takes almost losing it all to know what you have and appreciate all you’ve been given.

You walk to get to your luggage and wait for a moment.

You have your iPod on and scroll through the songs. You find a familiar song that you haven’t heard for some time. It seems appropriate enough.

The guitar starts sweet enough, until the heavier guitar and drums come pounding in. Then you hear Billy Corgan singing.
Today is the greatest day I’ve ever known
.

A new day. Another day to try again, to make amends, to keep going.

Today
.

And today you’re asking—you’re praying—for a change.

I
T WAS THE SORT OF HOT SUMMER NIGHT
that made a young woman abandon her fears and jump into the lake with barely anything on. And the sort of night that made a man in the nearby woods watch.

He heard their voices first. Laughter, conversation, even shouts, as if there wasn’t another soul in the surrounding countryside. The night air was thick and the forest full of aged trees and wild growth. It was easy to be swallowed in the black pit of the woods. And easy to observe.

He watched as one thing led to another, and a bet turned into a splash, and then the girl shouted as the boy ran off, leaving the swimmer all alone.

She didn’t seem to mind. The moon lit the murky waters of the lake, the ripples gliding out from the arms and feet that calmly stretched out. She looked peaceful. Peaceful and very naive.

He watched from behind a nearby oak tree, wondering when the girl would come out, knowing that would be the time to make his move. He was used to walking in shadows, walking without sound, walking without anyone knowing.

For several moments he held his breath.

He waited, his eyes unmoving, his hands flexing.