Some background to set this particular story up.

          At one time, I was a member of the American Association of Christian Counselors. This was a national organization of counselors who had to meet certain requirements of education and experience to belong. In our county in Ohio there were only two of us and in the next county over there was only one. Consequently, other pastors would occasionally call me and ask me if I would meet with someone in their church. This got to be such an occurrence and took so much of my time that our Elders finally asked me to not take any more people from other churches. I agreed. It was taking a lot of my time away from my own ministry.

          In our small town, we had an Episcopal church. The priest there was a woman whose first name was Anne. The custom in the Episcopal church is to call their priests ‘Father.’  Anne insisted on being called Father Anne. I just called her Annie. Anne had been married three times and had come away from the experience pretty much hating all men. Her dog’s name was Bock, which was a combination of Bob and Chuck, husbands number one and two. She said it was fitting since they were real dogs. She had bought a hamster just so she could name it William, for husband number three, whom she said was a rodent. The first time we met she chewed me out for being male and for hating her for being a woman minister. I told her that I didn’t hate her for any reason. I told her that the only yardstick I had for was that she be a good pastor for one of the churches in my community. After that, for whatever reason, I was her good buddy.

          That’s the background. One day in February 2002, Annie called me. She had a married couple in her church who were headed for divorce. She had been counseling them and clearly saw the handwriting on the way. The husband was seriously at fault, a regular brute, and there was just no way this poor, defenseless wife could continue to be married to him. But, to do due diligence, would I be willing to meet with them. I agreed and set up a time with the wife first.

          Based on description, I expected Stella to be a defeated, weary woman. What I got was a fiery, belligerent woman who was on her way to hating all men. She was a tiny woman but was filled with venom. I could clearly see evidence of Annie’s counseling efforts. But, the story she told was interesting. Her husband was all business. He had been on a business trip to Los Angeles and had been gone a week when Stella got sick. She had been going along just fine until one evening she passed out at her Mom and Dad’s house. They rushed to the hospital and found she had an infection. She went into a coma for two days. At 9 AM the next morning her father called her husband. I asked why the delay and she said that her Dad said that everything was so chaotic that he actually forgot to call till then. But her husband didn’t bother coming home for four more days. She woke from her coma terrified and her husband wasn’t there.  

          There are two sides to every story, but this story seemed pretty cut and dried. Regardless of the business deal, you would think that if a man loved his wife he would have gotten on a plane and come home. Still, I would meet with George in a few days and get his side.

          When George walked in I expected, by Annie’s description, to see an arrogant bully of a man who had no respect for anyone but himself. What I got was what I had assumed Stella would be. Weary, beaten, confused. Tears in his eyes. He sat down and started to tell me his side. After he got to the phone call from his father-in-law I interrupted and asked why he hadn’t gotten a flight home. He looked at me with a puzzled look. “You don’t know what day I got that phone call?” No, I replied. “Her father called me at 6 AM LA time on September 11, 2001.” Right at the moment the first plane was flying into the World Trade Center. I called the airline and booked the first plane to Cleveland. We were ready to board when they announced that every private and commercial plane in the country was grounded. Rail was halted for a few days, too. I rented a car and drove straight back, catching an hour or two of sleep at a time at rest areas. I just couldn’t get home.”

          So, that was the other side of the story and that changed everything. When next I talked to Stella she told me that Father Anne told her that George was very resourceful and could have gotten home if he had wanted to have gotten home.

          The moral to this story is that sometimes we can become so blinded by our own perceptions that we fail to see the whole picture. We can be convinced of something, really believe it is God’s will, and still fail to see the other side. We may feel totally right about something, but while what we feel may be eight, there may also be multiple ways of achieving the goal. When we close our minds to any other concept, we have lost.

          Just so you know, last I heard from them, George and Stella were living in Atlanta where George had taken a good job with no travel. They are happier than they have ever been in their lives. Their experience with Father Anne drove them away from the Episcopal church and they are happy members of a Baptist church just outside of Atlanta. Once Stella allowed herself to see the predicament George had been in and once George understood the terror Stella had felt when she woke from a coma, the rest was easy. And, believe it or not, Father Anne was angry at me for not counseling divorce.

          Feel with your heart, act with your mind.