Jesus' Wife

I have a student, John, whom I knew years ago. He's a couple years older than I am, so it is interesting to have him as a student now. We were both single for years, living in a community where there were lots of singles. I invited him out for a date one time. Actually, it was a group date and I had no idea who I should invite. So someone else invited him and two other guys to go on a date with me and my two roommates. No one knew who had invited whom, and it was really wierd. We went to a concert, I think. But I have no specific memories of it.

Now he's my student, and the rest of the story has come out. The other evening while I was assembling my new furniture at the office after most people had left, there was a knock on my door. It was John. "Do you want help with that?" he asked. "I spent most of my life doing maintenance type of work, so I'm good at this." Two hours later I thought he probably was very good at fixing pipes and building walls, but he can't read instructions worth a flip. But it gave us time to chat about old times.

"You know," he confided, "I think I have a larger than life picture of you in my mind." I laughed out loud and protested. "No," he continued. "You don't understand. See, I always thought that you and Sarah (my roommate) were like..." he paused to find the right words, his forehead furrowed with sincerity, voice hushed. "...like...I thought you two would qualify as Jesus' wife!" Howls of laughter from me. "I thought that since I wasn't a doctor, and so many people around here are, and seem to be fixated on marrying a doctor, that you probably deserved someone at least as good as Olaf. So I never tried." Olaf was the local tall, dark and handsome heart throb whose name was on the lips of every single woman. He was a doctor. He was also a heart breaker and I knew better than ever make a try for him. I just didn't trust him to be there at the end of his approach-avoidance dance.

John asked me why I hadn't gotten married until I was in my mid-forties. "I never got over being crushed when I was in my early 20s." I told him briefly that a fiance had called everything off one month before our wedding by telling me that I wasn't educated enough, attractive enough, intelligent enough, sophisticated enough, and that my life goals were inadequate somehow. "I'll never forgive myself if I marry you because you'll hold me back from my career and my life." I believed him, sad to say, and I gave up because I thought if anyone would know, it would be him. John was visibly irritated when I mentioned this. "None of it was true," he intoned, looking kindly at me.

I hadn't meant to say anything about my personal history to John. He's my student, after all, and I am very happily married to Sam. But John was there before Sam and he understood because he had been single for so long, too. I didn't tell him that my fiance had been seeing another woman who had told him, "Why are you settling for hamburger when you can have prime rib?" So I started spending time with another man after I finally felt that I could at least be out in public without feeling ashamed of myself. After two years of hoping for a romantic relationship to form, this new guy let me know that Ms. Primb Rib and he were dating. Of all the irony. And I was good enough to be Jesus' wife. I wish I'd known then.

We got my desk assembled by 10:15. He'd called his wife to warn her that he'd be home late, and I called Sam to say that I'd get home in a few minutes. When John drove off, and I got in my car with a wave and a chuckle. Jesus' wife. Hmmmm.

What I remember about those years is that I fel absolutely horrible about myself. I felt angst about how I looked (even though I was rather attractive for many of those years) and felt defined by the fact that I didn't own a home or have money; that as an older adult student I was a late bloomer. Than no man would want to date a doctor. That I'd been rejected by so many men for so many years that I'd just given up. My light had gone out inside. And this guy was there all the time, thinking I'd be better than anyone he should aim for.

Someone once told me that being shy is really a form of narcissism. I think that not feeling good about oneself is, too. Because all the focus is on what one is not, or what one needs but doesn't feel one has. The emotional energy is consumed with questions like, "Do I look okay in this?" "Is anyone going to talk with me?" "What am I supposed to say?" "I hope I don't say something awful." "Why do I always have to be alone."

Jesus' wife. There are many people who walk around without knowing that others esteem them highly or admire them for something they say or do. Just saying the words to them can make them walk taller. I have, this week.