A Meek answer Turneth away Wrath.

A meek answer turneth away wrath. A meek answer turneth away wrath. A meek answer turneth away wrath. These words rolled over and over again silently in my mind as I sat curled tightly and safely in a ball, shaking, the tears running down my cheeks. Why was he still yelling? I do everything, I work my butt off, and you do nothing! He screamed. I watched from the corner of my eye with my head tucked in, as he threw his prized laptop across the room. Bits, wires, plastic components bounced off the broken closet door and fell to the ground. The children were in the other room. Could our neighbors below hear him? I was scared they would call the police. I apologized to him. Knowing all the while, he wasn't really mad at me. He frequently took his anger to himself, out on me.

We had just returned from tithing settlement. We didn't pay a full tithe that year. We were $400 short. Tithing was the one bill he paid personally. He hated his job loading trucks. He put in 15-20 miserable hours a week providing for us. I knew it was a great sacrifice for him to take time away from his schooling to provide for us and was very careful with every penny. Since tithing is a sacrifice, I felt it was important for me to let him write the tithing check each month. On the way home from tithing settlement there was silence. I felt bad for him. I forgave him for not paying for our family faithfully. I didn't say a word. Then he asked, When was the last time you balanced the check book? Six months. It wasn't like there was anything to balance, we lived on 1.3k a month. My heart filled with fear as I realized he found a way to pin responsibility on me.

I continued shaking curled up on the bed, crying as he screamed. His voice was deep and threatening. He didn't stop. He went on, and on, and on. Why couldn't he see he was hurting me? Why didn't he stop?

I hoped if I submitted myself to him and apologized, he would feel bad for what he did. I believed his own conscience would work on him. The yelling lasted a long time. He didn't stop.

The next day I was still shaking. For three days I shook. The shaking just wouldn't stop. Something deep inside of me died. I loved him so much. He was my best friend, everything to me. I tried hard to please him. I wanted him to be happy. He seemed inclined to continual anger and spite.

The next day, I though he probably felt sorrow for his prior actions. As I sat at the computer, entering the data from our check book I wondered how remorseful he must have felt. It's hard to type when your hands are trembling. He came in the room. In a warm forgiving way, he sat down behind me in my chair. He put his arms around me as I typed.

He had benevolently forgiven me.

Later he related to his friends on how he felt sorrow for his temper. He told his friend he destroyed his precious laptop in a temper tantrum, and how he regretted the loss of his laptop.

Why is it some people cannot see they are hurting someone, and continue on to hurt? How is it they cannot see the pain in your eyes?

Sometimes, when someone is challenged and in pain themselves, they fail to see how much others are in pain and suffering. My husband was overwhelmed by his challenges, but had no clue how overwhelming my challenges as a mother were.

Some are moved by the unwillingness of others to fight back, some see it as a weakness.