Why Mixed Marriages Fail
"Where have you been?" she asks shortly.
"I've just been at Church saying some prayers," he replies.
"You've been seeing her again haven't you?" his wife asks.
"What do you mean, I-"
"That woman!" she exclaims, "Oh, don't you worry, I know all about your little game! Yesterday, I spotted you going there with flowers for Heaven's sake. Flowers!? How much did they cost, eh?! You never buy me flowers!"
The man now on the defensive replies, "Yes, yes I did take her flowers. Nobody else buys her flowers nowadays so I did. She's a Queen! She deserves flowers!"
The wife becomes more agitated.
"A Queen is she? I see. So, she is the queen of your life and what am I? I suppose I'm just your hobby! And while we're on the subject, did you have a nice day at the office?"
"Yes, actually, work went very smoothly today, I think I'm in line for a promotion soon, thank you darling," the man replies, regaining his composure.
The wife walks up to him, face to face and digs inside his jacket pocket.
"Not that office! This Office!" staring at him accusingly.
"What?" he replies.
The wife reads out the introduction. "Seven times a day shall I praise you. Interesting, because you've never got a good word to say to me. I never hear you praise me."
"Have you lost your mind?" the husband says.
"No, but I should ask you the same question," says the wife. "Look, you get up in the morning and you're in the study praying to this woman. You go to work and on the train you're talking to this lady. You come home and go to the Church and give the woman flowers. At night you're on your knees before her asking her for help. Just where do I fit into all of this? I can't cope with it anymore."
"You're jealous of Our Lady?" he asks.
"Well it looks like there are three of us in this marriage," she replies. "So, come on. Out with it. What's she got that I haven't got?"
"What do you mean? She's got everything! She's perfect! She's the Mother of God, Queen of Heaven and Earth, refuge of sinners and crowning glory of the Saints!" says the husband.
"What the-," says the wife.
"I know you don't understand it, darling. Shall we pray to her together?" he asks tentatively.
"Look," the wife replies, "its your religion and I don't want a part of it. I know its something that is important to you, but I can't cope with it anymore. It feels like I'm always in competition with her."
The husband tries another angle. "Look, this woman leads me to the Heart of Her Divine Son. For you, things can only be good as a result. Praying to her makes me kinder and more compassionate and things. I can't understand why you would object."
"Kinder, eh? More compassionate, eh? Well, next week I want some flowers," she demands.
"But I can only afford one bunch of flowers a week. They have to go to her. Anyway, darling, I'm saving up each week to take us on holiday" he replies.
"Oh, really. Oh darling that sounds wonderful." The wife begins to calm down.
"Yes, its a delightful little place in Portugal," the husband says, putting his hands around her waist.
"Oh darling, I can't wait. What's the place called?"
"Well, honey, its a beautiful little place called Fatima," he replies.
"Fatima...Oh it sounds delightful," says the wife as she walks over to the coffee table and picks up the husband's Office. She flicks through and out falls a prayer card which has been used as a bookmark. The wife reads it.
"Our Lady of Fatima, ora pro nobis."
The husband, caught off guard, hurriedly says, "Now, darling, don't be mad. I can explain everything! It's not how it looks, I-."
"Gerry," the wife says, "I think I want a divorce."