One thing is for sure: at some point, the bomb WILL explode.
And if we are too close, we will be collateral damage.
But, we have been blessed with an innate ability. You can call it gut, instinct, the Spirit or the Gift of the Holy Ghost. Whatever you call it, it works the same. We can sense the bomb. We can smell it in the pungent aroma that lingers as he kisses us. We can hear it in the lies that come out of his mouth. We can feel it in his awkward embrace. We can see it exhibited in his discomfort of his behaviors.
We know that the blast can hurt us, possibly even kill us. And it's coming...
We know that the only way to protect ourselves is to detach. We have to detach from the bomb.
If the man removes the bomb and takes it far far away to the open field and leaves it there, we will all be fine. We will all be safe. But, we can't make him remove the bomb. Only he can choose to remove the bomb.
We see him remove the bomb with kind actions. We hear him remove the bomb with full and honest disclosures. We can witness a glimmer of safety when he runs like mad to that open field. We can feel our safety return we he leaves it there and runs like never before back to us.
But, only he can choose to take it to the field.
So, in the meantime, every time we see the back pack, we detach. We move ourselves and our kids FAR FAR away from the danger of the bomb.
It's hard. We love the man.
It's scary. He could get hurt.
But, our first priority is to keep ourselves and our children safe.
The man is holding the bomb.
It's traumatic. Every time we see even an empty back pack, it sparks fear in our hearts. What if that's the one that could kill us? We feel like we just have to check and see inside...
Last night, I got a glimpse of the bomb. He opened it up and showed me the wires inside. I could see the nails and bolts. He held the trigger in his hand.
So, I turned and grabbed my kids and ran like hell.
I hope he was on his way to the field. I guess I'll find out at dinnertime.