As I read this chapter 5 of Nancy Leigh DeMoss’ Lies Women Believe: And the Truth that Sets them Free, I could not help but think of the preview for the movie I Don’t Know How She Does It. The Plugged In review said:
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When almost no one was around, he asked me if he could speak to me. With the way he’d eaten, I thought he was going to ask for some food to take home, and I was already doing a mental inventory of what I could give him.
Instead, he asked me if I could read a passage from the Bible for him. He looked around but saw no Bibles sitting out and said, “That is, if you can find one.”
I was talking to a retired homicide detective last week. He said that every dead child, every drug induced murder, every senseless death born of greed and anger and malice destroyed him inside. But, as a homicide detective, he couldn’t let those emotions out. Instead of going into some dead child’s bedroom and crying in a corner, he had to buck up and do his job. To compensate, he would go home and drink. His wife didn’t understand what he was struggling with, because he couldn’t open up the floodgate of emotions that would come as a result of acknowledging them, and in the end it nearly destroyed their marriage.
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