Loving to Death

"There is a way that seems right to a man, but in the end it leads to death." Proverbs 14:12

Ever since the Garden of Eden, the human condition has been that we think that we know better than God. That if something seems right, it is right. That we don't need to clear it through the word of God or a fellow believer, we can handle it. So when I met Isaac, it seemed right, meant to be, sensible. In hindsight, warning bells were ringing all over the place, but at the time, since I was away from a body of believers who could've held me accountable and helped me see Truth, I didn't hear those bells.

Isaac was a sweet, quiet, hard-working guy who I met when I'd traveled out to California for my job interview. We went to a movie together and promised to keep in touch. When I moved to LA county, we reconnected and started dating. It was nice to go from being married to someone who was very selfish, to being alone, into dating a considerate guy who acted crazy about me. All of the starry-eyed feelings I had made me blind to tendencies he had...things like him disappearing when he got paid, not hearing from him for awhile, then he'd reappear broke. Changing jobs a lot. Having arguments and issues with his family. I just chalked these all up to 'just how he was' and kept dating him.

Much to my embarrassment after being a youth leader of young girls and advising them to live holy lives, I got pregnant. Isaac and I talked about getting married, and even started driving to Las Vegas one night, but each of us took turns getting cold feet. His was probably good old-fashioned not wanting to be tied down, and mine was hesitation as Isaac started being around more and more. I began to see the missing pieces to the behavior pattern...between getting paid and becoming broke, he no longer disappeared. He would show up at my house with a case of beer and begin drinking...and when that was gone, he would keep buying beer until he was out of money or passed out. Usually the money went before he did, then he would be very unreasonable, trying to get more money. Imagine a tired kid who won't go to sleep, becoming more and more unruly....then turn that image into a 40-some-year-old guy, and you can partially imagine what it was like.

By the time I was near to giving birth, I decided that Isaac and I couldn't be together. I'd given him chances to change, he made a lot of promises, but it always ended up with him repeating the same pay-day pattern. I couldn't have my sons around that anymore. Even when we'd lock the doors, Isaac would knock, knock, knock, ring the doorbell, knock, pound on the door, yell, beg, promise, anything to get us to open the door. My older son tried to act like it didn't bother him, but my younger son would beg me to just leave and go rent a motel room or something, so that we could hide from him. We would often have to call the police, then I would embarrassedly feel like I was on the next episode of "Cops."

I felt sad for many reasons...one, deep down, Isaac was a caring and kind person, but he could NOT turn from alcohol! He would act shy and almost unworthy until he drank, then he would be loud and obnoxious...it was like he drank to become brave or something--sad. His family had hoped, and felt crushed, so many times with him, and after he met me, they again held out hope that he would change--so sad. I'd put a horrible role model smack-dab in the middle of my sons' lives--very sad. And I was having yet another son who wouldn't have regular contact with his dad--more sadness.

The morning I went in to have the baby, Isaac showed up to see him, which was fine. He was his sober, shy, sweet self, and it was his only child, so I didn't want to deprive him of the chance to see the baby. But later that day, he returned to visit the hospital after having gotten drunk, back to his 'brave,' loud, rude ways. The nurses finally asked him to leave because I was so embarrassed and upset.

After coming home with the baby, my older sons were so good about helping with him. Unfortunately, we kept having 'close encounters of the Isaac kind,' with more visits from the police. He was finally arrested after breaking my bedroom window one night, when again we wouldn't open the door to his repeated knocking. He served some time in jail, then left the area, occasionally calling drunk to check on his son. He eventually faded from the picture, with no word of where he was or how he was. I still pray for him and am sad for who he could have been. And although I regret this chapter of my life, I am eternally grateful for yet another wonderful, talented, hilarious son and wouldn't trade him for anything!