Worth Dying For...

This is the second in a series of posts that I’m writing about the years that John and I had conflict over religion. At this point in time John had recently voiced his doubts about LDS doctrine. I was a believing, active, Mormon. This experience below occurs a few months after this one. For those of you who can relate to the experience of having a spouse lose their testimony, I'd love to have you guest-blog your story on pilgrimgirl. Drop me a line: phddilly at yahoo dotcom.

Saving John became my daily obsession. I would read articles on the Internet, in the Ensign, and in Mormon books. I was sure that there was some way to rescue John, if only I could find it.

As a Christmas gift I made scrapbooks of our correspondence during John’s mission. I highlighted those moments where he shared his spiritual experiences. I cried many tears as I reread the letters from my genki elder. I was sure that he would be impacted from re-reading his own words about his belief in Mormonism. I wrapped the albums for him, sealing each seam with a prayer of hope, and placed them under the Christmas tree. He opened them and briefly thumbed through them, but soon put them away and didn’t look at them again.

I tried to think of people from our past who had wielded spiritual influence on my husband. I contacted our former Home Teachers, mission companions, and Institute teachers. I poured out my heart to them, pleaded for them to help me help John. This yielded some sympathetic conversations, but no help for me in reaching John.

I went to our Bishop and asked him to pray with me to reach John. I received several blessings at his hands. In one memorable blessing I was told that “I was the key that would unlock John’s heart.” I continued to search and pray to discover what that key could be, what the trick was to helping John remember his former faith in the LDS church.

In the meantime, I was losing John. I could no longer handle the conversations where he voiced his doubts. I told him not to speak to me about his diminishing testimony. My inability to face his changes created a barrier between us that was growing taller each day. We were quickly drifting apart. I began to wonder if our marriage would last. Were we on the road to divorce?

Then one night as I was kneeling beside my bed (pleading with God once more to fix my husband), I had an epiphany. I realized the one thing that would ‘reach’ John. It came to my mind that if something awful happened to me--something on the scale of my cancer returning—that John would step back into his Mormon role. I imagined myself lying pale and wan in a hospital bed, my husband sitting at my side. John's hands were clasped together and his eyes closed. I could hear him pleading with God for my healing. Then he placed his hands on my head and gave me a priesthood blessing, a petition for my recovery. I imagined his change of heart as he regained his belief in the gospel. I felt an upsurge of joy and hope. Yes, I realized, it was worth it for John’s eternal salvation.

I laid myself on the altar that night, a willing sacrifice. I told God that he could strike me with any infirmity—-even my death-—if it would bring my husband back into the fold.