She had carried in his groceries.

James lowered his head, his hands resting against the counter. This was not right!

The anger inside—at God, at the pain, at the unfairness of what was happening, at the lack of sleep—roiled through him.

“I don’t need another mother,” he snapped at Rae, taking the last sack from her as she came in from the garage. “I can put away my own groceries.”

She pulled back, her eyes going wide. He watched as the light of animation gave way to confusion and deep hurt. She started to say something, stopped, then left the kitchen.

“Rae…”

He’d been to the doctor and then to the store and she’d been waiting for him when he got home. He was tired, in pain and frustrated with what he couldn’t do. He didn’t need her doing one of the few things he could do.

She didn’t deserve having her head bit off because he was in a foul mood.

“Rae.” He found her sitting on the couch in the living room. He lowered himself into the chair opposite her, setting the cane down. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“If I help you, you get mad. If I don’t, I feel horrible.”

He leaned his head back, hating the situation. He wanted her help, but resented it, too. “I know. I’ve been a bear with a sore head lately. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“Can I at least fix dinner?”

It pulled a half smile from him. “Would you settle for helping me fix it?”

She bit her lip as she sighed. “Sure. The doctor’s news was bad?”

“Nothing different than last time. Wait it out.” It was impossible to make light of how desperate he was to get some sustained improvement. There were few if any glimmers of hope.

Kevin was right. He had to accept the limitations and learn to live with them. But he hated it, hated the implications of a life with this pain. Hated the cost he was going to have to pay.

If he didn’t recover, they didn’t have a future together.

She didn’t want to talk about the possibility of this pain being a permanent reality. She still believed it would fade with time. He was no longer sure.

The only thing he was certain of was that he could not burden her with it.

It was dawn. Rae looked out her office window to see the clouds turn pink on the horizon, slowly glow as the sun touched them.

She looked down at the list of her day’s priorities and slowly curled her hand around the pen she held. Had it been a pencil, it would have cracked under the pressure.

There was too much to do and not enough time to do it.

It was no longer a matter of delegation, of prioritization, of managing her time better, of controlling interruptions. She was in over her head, and she had two options. She could throw away everything outside of work that was important in her life to deal exclusively with delivering the kind of investment returns her clients had the right to expect, or she could sell the business. A partnership was not going to happen. Richardson had regretfully declined last week, Walters had called her last night.

Rae looked at the list of items to be done, looked around her office, quietly closed the schedule book.

God, I’ve been thinking about Psalm 37 for months now. Verse 23 says the steps of a man are from the Lord. We’ve been talking about this decision for a long time. It’s time, isn’t it?

Rae was surprised at the peace she felt.

She was selling the business.

The demons liked to come in the middle of the night. His personal ones. Doubt. Anger. Frustration. The clock beside his bed showed 2:00 a.m. The pain had ensured he had yet to fall asleep.

God, I am so angry at this pain! Why, God? Why me? Why show me a future I would love to have and then cripple me so I can’t have it?

It’s not fair.

I love Rae. I can’t do this to her. I can’t so limit her life to this level.

I know what marriage demands of people. Why put love in my heart and deny me the health I need to enjoy it? For years I have accepted being single as one of the costs to pay for serving on the mission field. Is this how You reward that sacrifice? Why, God? I don’t understand.

How do I explain this to Rae? She’s not going to understand and I don’t have the words. She’s going to see the things I can’t do—mow the yard, take out the trash, carry a sack of groceries, that long list of daily obstacles I am dealing with—as minor things. But they are not. They are the tip of that iceberg of energy and responsibility necessary for a marriage to work. It can’t be such a one-sided equation that she is put in a position of constantly having to give. The marriage would never survive.

Oh, God, why does the pain not leave? What caused this relapse to be stronger and more persistent than the others? Is there anything else I can do that will help? Anything else the doctors have not tried? Just lying here in bed is making my muscles burn. I can feel the joints stiffening. I know morning is going to be another adventure in agony. I am so tired of it, Lord. There is no relief. I am dreading where this is heading.

How do I tell the lady I love that I can’t marry her?