VANISHED
"Love sometimes does a vanishing act, like an earring lost in plain sight. "
David was a driven man, in leisure and in work. He always needed a challenge. If something became too repetitive or familiar, he bored of it. He said that was why our relationship never soured; I was mercurial enough to keep him interested. I think that was a compliment.
Over the course of our marriage, he jumped from hobby to hobby, partially because he had family responsibilities and couldn't jump from job to job. He became a chess master, a stunt kite flyer, and a dirt bike rider. He tried his hand at the guitar, the banjo, and the mandolin. He set up a woodworking shop and played with a scroll saw. He mastered chair stringing and dabbled in furniture restoration. He tried learning French, Spanish, and Apsaalooke, a native American tongue. His longest fascination was with computer photo manipulation. He learned to make photos lie. His alterations were indiscernible because he added shadows and played with coloration until it was perfect.
In some ways the pastorate was the ideal job for someone with his desire for fresh challenges. Congregations were always evolving and changing. If one no longer provided the needed stimulation, another group in need of a leader could be sought. While this sounds unspiritual, nothing is farther from the truth. God made David, personality and all. He knew of his need for challenge and change. He guided him to ministries where that need would be met. When David's visions were realized, God moved him on and brought in someone with the necessary skills to follow through and stabilize the gains.
I'm sure the Holy Spirit put words into the mouth of a member of that first pastoral search committee when he told David, "Don't expect the church to grow. We're a country church, and there aren't that many prospects around."
The gauntlet was dropped. David set out to prove him wrong. Within two years, the congregation quadrupled. At that point David might have looked for greener pastures. What provided continued stimulation was the desire to earn his doctorate. The seminary had granted him a two-year reprieve after he took his orals, stopping his doctoral clock temporarily. The church encouraged him to complete the degree and gave him the time he needed to do research. They also offered a scholarship that would cover half his tuition.
When David returned to school, as part of the readmission process he took a personality inventory, the Myers Briggs Type Indicator. The inventory was not required when we worked on our Masters. When he got the results, David was excited because the description of his personality was so accurate. He came home with an MBTI for me to fill out.
"You've got to take this personality test, Syd," he said. "It's uncanny how well it pegged me. The school allows the wives to take it and they score it for free. In fact, the counseling department will give us a free consultation about how personality factors into relationships. It's part of somebody's doctoral research."
I was intrigued. I'd never seen David so animated about something that addressed relationships. I readily told him that I wanted to take the test and go for the consultation. I sat down that night and completed the inventory. David took it back to the seminary for scoring and made us an appointment to talk to the counselor.
After the consultation, I was just as enthusiastic as David about the inventory. We knew our thought processes were different, but we had no objective way to express the distinctions. The MBTI gave us a skeletal frame on which to develop a verbal picture of our differences and similarities. It helped us to understand each other and gave us the ability to comprehend why the other's mental progressions seemed so weird.
David always was incredulous that I would make decisions based on subjective feelings and values rather than on objective logic. He believed I was the only person in the world that behaved in such an aberrant manner. Imagine his surprise when he discovered that 50 percent of the world thought the same way I did. Admittedly, 50 percent of the men didn't; 60 percent of the men used objective criteria to make decisions, while 60 percent of the women used subjective ones.
Myers Briggs called the opposing traits 'thinking' and 'feeling.' I felt this was quite appropriate, since I often told David that if he had feelings, they were buried deeply. On the other hand, he often told me that God gave me a brain so I could weigh the pros and cons of a situation before jumping into something based on how I 'felt' about it.
"What were you thinking, Syd?" was a familiar refrain.
"David, didn't you even consider how she might feel?" was my mantra.
When we were contemplating a move, the clash between thinking and feeling came to a head. I talked until I turned blue, but he wouldn't concede that factoring in the feelings of other people – like spouses and children – was a logical course.
Finally I'd agreed that we'd each make pro and con lists to use as mediation tools, because that is what David deemed the most logical way to make a decision. We sat down to negotiate, with lists in hand.
David looked at my list.
"What difference does it make how far we'll be from the grandparents?" he asked. "Wherever we are, they're going to find a way to visit."
"But the boys will feel abandoned if they don't get to see Maw and Paw very often. They're used to frequent visits."
"Sydney, that's not a logical reason to stay. You're going to make wimps of our sons."
"Are you a wimp? You lived across the street from your grandparents all of your life, and Maw Gilbert spoiled you rotten."
"Maybe, but I wouldn't have been scarred for life if we'd moved."
"Well, what about your list. Your first item is salary. If God is calling us, we don't need to think about salary. He'll provide."
"He is the provider, Syd, but even the Bible teaches fiscal responsibility. Do you think God would bless us if we spent money foolishly and then went crying to Him for necessities?"
"We're not talking about spending anything foolishly, David. We're talking about whether salary should be a number one priority."
"I think it would be pretty foolish not to make it a top priority. God gave me the responsibility of providing for my family."
And so the discussion went. He talked about benefit packages, while I lamented having to leave friends behind. He lectured about the cost of the move and the proximity of the proposed new house to schools and grocery stores. I asked if there were many children our boys' ages in the neighborhood and moaned about having to leave my church family.
Finally I threw my hands up in surrender.
"Ok, ok," I said. "Have it your way. Of course yours is the only logical way. Who was it that drove completely around the circumference of Dallas on the circular by-pass and added over an hour to our trip, because you were certain you could find the correct exit, when all you had to do was pull into a gas station and ask directions?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Nothing, but it shows where male logic often leads."
"Well when we finally did stop, you wouldn't even ask directions because you didn't feel like imposing on those poor, busy gas station attendants who were trying to do three things at once."
"Somebody had to consider their feelings."
"And what about my frustration?"
"You wouldn't have felt frustrated if we'd stopped earlier."
David took the lists. He handed me his and took mine.
"Will you just take this and think about it?" he asked.
"If you promise to read mine and try to understand how the children and I feel about making such a drastic change."
"Deal." He pulled me to my feet and pointed out the window where a country road wound its way into the distance. "Just think about the adventures that await us down the road," he said.
"I don't feel like it," I replied. "Your adventure requires the pain of parting."
"Kleenex are cheap," he said. "Adventure is priceless."
I thought he might be right, but I just didn't feel his anticipation.
#
Mama and Daddy had a running game about thinking and feeling. When he wanted her to focus, Daddy would say, "Come on over and pay a visit to Mars, Sydney. Venus has your mind befuddled."
When she first heard him say it, Faith had no idea what he meant. Mama explained that there was a book that talked about men being from Mars and women from Venus. She went on to tell Faith the difference between thinking and feeling, using an illustration a little girl could understand.
"Remember when Zach's newborn hamster died?" Mama asked.
"Yeah," Faith said.
"What did Daddy want to do?"
"Flush him down the toilet."
"And what did I suggest?"
"That we make a match box coffin and bury him."
"Well, Daddy was using what is called thinking. He wanted to do the simplest thing, and since a hamster is not a person, he thought it would be okay to flush him."
"That's just wrong!" Faith stood with legs firmly planted and arms crossed.
"That's what I thought, too. I was using feeling, just like you are. Even though he was an animal, he was the baby of Mrs. MC Hamster. She was Zach's pet, and he loved her. I knew he would want to bury the dead baby."
"Feeling is better," Faith said.
"Sometimes," I said. "But sometimes it's good to use thinking."
"Not when you have a dead hamster."
"No, not when you have a dead hamster."
Faith's rumbling stomach brought her back to the present. She looked at her watch. It was already 9 o'clock. She had eaten a late lunch and skipped supper. Smiling at her Mama's description of the difference between thinkers and feelers, she went into the kitchen. She put the teakettle on and rummaged through the fridge. Nothing she saw made her mouth water.
"I wish I had some pie to go with my tea," she thought. "I guess I'll just have to settle for toast and jam."
As she retrieved a loaf of bread, her doorbell rang. Who could be here at this time of night?
Faith hurried to the door. Flipping on the outside light, she peered out the peephole into the night. She didn't see anyone. Shrugging, she turned off the light and headed back towards the kitchen. The bell sounded again, causing her to jump. She turned quickly and looked out but was greeted only by the luminous pool around the streetlight that pushed back the blackness. Cautiously she opened the door a crack. Nothing. She was about to close the door and return to the kitchen when her peripheral vision caught something. Sitting on the floor in front of her door was a brown paper bag with 'TOY' in bold black letters on the side.
Faith picked up the bag and brought it inside. Leaning against the front door, she opened the bag. She spied a square white box with the word April's stenciled on top. Without opening the box, she knew that her tea party would no longer be a 'virgin' tea party. She had her lemon icebox pie to complement her Earl Grey.
Aaron had to be out there. She looked down. She was wearing a pair of pajama pants and a baggy t-shirt. It would do. She flipped on her porch light, opened the door, and called into the night, "Hey, lemon icebox pie stalker, you want to join me for pie and tea?"
Aaron emerged from the shadows. As he stepped into the light, she could see the grin that split his face, "I thought you'd never ask," he said.
"I think I know why we're at odds about whether to postpone the wedding," Faith said as they ate pie. "Do you remember when Mama gave you the Myers Briggs?"
"Yeah. If I remember correctly, we didn't have a whole lot in common on that thing."
"No we didn't. Do you remember what the letters stood for?"
"Not all of them. I remember that men are usually 'T's and women are 'F's, but the rest are kind of fuzzy. What do the letters have to do with postponing the wedding?"
"The last letter in your personality type determines how structured you want life to be. You were a 'J' – a 'judger.' I was a 'P' – a 'perceiver.' That means you like to have things settled. You don't like living in limbo and are uncomfortable until a decision is made."
"That's only natural, who wouldn't be?"
"Me. I don't like being locked into a position." Her voice sounded defensive. She tried for a more mellow tone. "I prefer to put off decision making until I've gathered every possible scrap of information."
"But, we don't have a lot of time for gathering extemporaneous information, Faith."
She laughed. "Not to you. Two months is not much time to a 'J.' Your inner clock is ticking and your nagging voice is saying, 'Get that girl on board, boy, time's a wastin'." Faith waved at the calendar on the wall near her phone. It was still on February. She hadn't even turned it to March even though the month was half over.
"P's aren't that concerned with time. My inner clock won't push the panic button until about a week before the actual wedding date. Then I'll start running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to get everything done."
"But you're the one who suggested postponing the wedding even though it's almost two months away."
"That's because your 'J' is already starting to feel pressure. I'm trying to spare you some agony while giving my 'P' lots of time to gather info."
"But, Faith, it's already on the calendar. We've been planning this thing for six months. The invitations are in the mail. People have made plans."
"I know. When I was reading Mama's journal, I could almost hear her telling me, 'Put yourself in his personality shoes.' When the boys and I would have disagreements, that's what she would tell us. I put myself in your personality shoes. I realized that even though postponing the wedding might turn off the nagging voice that says, 'There's not much time left,' it would release a much louder voice that says, 'I've had this calendared for six months. What'll I tell my friends and family who've already made plans?'"
She reached across and laid her hand on his, where he had started drumming the table with his fingers.
"When I calendar most things, it means they're possibilities. When you put something on the calendar, it's pretty much set in stone. You needed a pressing reason to change it. Changing our wedding date goes against your nature."
"It would go against anyone's nature, Faith." He pulled his hand out from under hers and waved it in the air. "Even you "P's" should know a wedding date is set in stone, especially once the wedding invitations go out."
"I do know that, Aaron, but my personality is urging me to get more input before I make such a major decision. In my mind, a postponement is better than calling it off completely. Some people might be inconvenienced, but a little inconvenience is better than a lifetime of regret."
He ran his right hand through his hair. He let out his breath loudly. Then the left side of his mouth quirked up slightly. "I hadn't really considered how our personalities might be affecting this decision. Remember that card you gave me with a porcupine and a possum. There was a heart over their heads. You wrote INFP over one and ENTJ over the other. On the inside it said, 'Love can make this work.' Well, I still think love can make this work, Faith. Even though my nagging 'J' voice is practically screaming, I've given you your month to gather sensory input."
"I'm sorry, Aaron," she said. "I don't mean to be difficult."
"It's okay." Glancing at his watch, he got to his feet. "I'm getting to practice my 'P' while you get acquainted with your 'J.' In the meantime, I need to get home. I've got to go to work tomorrow."
"Are you out of kissies yet?" he asked when they stood at the door.
He was only inches away. His smell filled her nostrils. It would be so easy. But she shook her head. "Not yet." She didn't want her feelings to overwhelm the fledgling logic she was trying to employ. This decision was for a lifetime. She had to get it right.