After an EMS weekend I have begun to believe that I can reconcile with my husband, the betrayer. I love him and always have for 35 years. We are slowly moving back into each others lives, talking, healing, reconnecting, etc. My adult children can not accept my forgiving their father for his betrayal. They are so afraid that he will hurt me again. They watched and experienced first hand the pain and heartache he created in their lives. They feel that he has ":just gotten away with it" and has been forgiven too easily. I am afraid if I share their feelings with my husband it will hurt his relationship with our children. How should I handle this situation? Do I let time work things out and avoid the "family time" for the present time? Do I discuss it with my husband? Do I let him discover their feelings on his own? I need direction.

Rick,
I can’t tell how long ago you posted or reposted “The Magic Eyes” article. That fable may fit for some but not for me. Here’s my version:

In the village of Faken in innermost Friesland there lived a long thin baker name Fouke, a righteous man, with a long thin chin and a long thin nose. Fouke was so upright that he seemed to spray righteousness from his thin lips over everyone who came near him; so the people of Faken preferred to stay away.

Or at least that’s how Fouke’s wife Hilda saw it. Hilda was short and round, her arms were round, her bosom was round, her rump was round. Hilda did not keep people at bay with righteousness; her soft roundness seemed to invite them instead to come close to her in order to share the warm cheer of her open heart. She was sure that this was the correct way to live, indeed, the path to happiness—making herself available to any and all who may come near and consider her friendly and warm. She gained such a pleasing high from the approval and attention of others. These others, of course, didn’t really know Hilda intimately the way Fouke did and so they never called her out, or challenged her with criticism, or just plain got annoyed with her faults. As the years went by and her marriage staled, she found herself increasingly invested in superficial yet pleasant relationships with others, and further and further withdrawn from Fouke. She knew it hurt Fouke, but these others enabled Hilda to live in a fantasy world where she was the warm, friendly good person whom everyone adored. Without ever saying it, Hilda convinced herself that by virtue of her warm, friendly personality, she was, in fact, the righteous one.

But every so often, unwanted thoughts would rise up in her mind and she would be forced to face things she had tried hard all her life to stuff down. Thoughts about the secret life she led, projecting an image of warmth and goodness on the surface, but in private living against the rules of the village of Faken—secretly cheating others in the market, lying to her family about her life, stealing small things from her neighbors, spreading slander against others, involving herself in unwise associations behind Fouke’s back in order to guarantee the success of his bakery. So shamed was she by her true nature and deception, she never shared these things with Fouke. She knew that because of his integrity and good character, he would not abandon her, but he would insist that she acknowledge what she had done, make amends to those she had violated, and stop the wrong dealings. The truth was, she didn’t care to. She had fallen so much in love with herself and her double life that regardless of the pain it was causing Fouke, she would do anything to maintain her double life and good image—even spread false rumors about Fouke that turned some people away from him who didn't know him well.

You see, deep down Hilda knew the truth; Fouke was a righteous man but not a self-righteous man. Fouke knew he was not perfect and knew he had flaws, but he knew he was worthy of love and chose, in as much as it was possible for anyone, to live a life of honesty, sacrifice, commitment and love. Fouke was thin but not in an unattractive way; and Fouke’s chin and nose were really not that long; they were pretty normal. But as Fouke’s goodness mirrored back to Hilda her double life, she began to see Fouke as long and thin and cold and harsh. She convinced herself that he sprayed righteousness all over everyone, but really, it was her guilty conscience that caused her to react so defensively. She told herself villagers stayed away from Fouke, but she had to admit, he had many, real, meaningful relationships with family, friends, and customers, but he never crossed lines like she did into secrets and inappropriate intimacy and she grew to hate him for his upright decision-making. Hilda respected her righteous husband, and tried to love him, as much as she would allow herself, but her heart ached for something less demanding and more exciting that would take her mind off of her own guilt and shame.

And so, after neglecting Fouke’s needs more and more, leading to his hurt, frustration, and, at times, lashing out, Hilda had her ‘proof’ of Fouke’s coldness, cruelty and meanness, proof that she was in a loveless marriage and had married the wrong person, and justification for seeking happiness elsewhere with others. And there, in the bed of her need, lay the seed of sadness mixed with desire.

One morning, having worked since dawn to knead his dough for the ovens, Fouke came home and found a stranger in his bedroom lying on Hilda's round bosom. Hilda's adultery soon became the talk of the tavern and the scandal of the Faken congregation. Everyone assumed that Fouke would cast Hilda out of his house, so righteous was he. But he surprised everyone by keeping Hilda as his wife, saying he forgave her as the Good Book said he should.

It took years of suffering, hard work, and prayers, but in Fouke’s heart of hearts, he finally forgave Hilda for bringing shame to his name. At first, his feelings toward her were angry and hard; he despised her as if she were a common whore. When it came right down to it, he hated her for betraying him after he had been so good and so faithful a husband to her. In response to his profound hurt and anger, little pebbles of resentment built up in his heart. But his faith had taught him how he could be healed of his hurt. There was one remedy, only one, for the hurt of a wounded heart. Fouke would need ‘magic’ eyes, he would need to ask God to help him see things through eyes of love, eyes that would see Hilda, not as a wife who betrayed him, but as a weak woman who deserved forgiveness and a second chance. Only a new way of looking at things through the magic eyes could heal the hurt flowing from the wounds of yesterday. Fouke fought with himself. "Nothing can change the past," he thought. "Hilda is guilty, a fact that no one can change." He knew he was right, but he also knew he could heal his hurt with new vision. He had to ask and truly desire it and new vision would be given, which in time, it was.

Fouke poured out his feelings to God and to Hilda and begged and begged God to soften his heart and allow him to once again open his heart and risk being vulnerable with his wife. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t easy but he knew this was the pathway of true love. Each time Fouke intentionally saw Hilda through new eyes, one pebble was lifted from his aching heart. It took a long time, but Fouke’s heart gradually grew lighter. Soon Hilda began to change in front of Fouke's eyes, wonderfully and mysteriously. He began to see her as a needy woman who loved him instead of a wicked woman who betrayed him. He invited Hilda to come into his heart again, and she came, and together they began again a journey into their second season of humble joy.

Or so Fouke thought. As Fouke had battled his profound pain and anger and pebbles of resentment, Hilda had built up her own store of pebbles in her heart. “Damn Fouke,” she thought privately. Just when Hilda had found an escape for her self-created pain—the indescribable thrill of a sexual affair—Fouke had to ruin her plans by continuing to be a man of character. He took her back and forgave her! This only added to her well of guilt and shame and resentment. She only pretended to reconcile with Fouke because she was afraid, now that some of her secrets were out, no one else would have her, and she never had trusted or loved herself enough to be on her own. But Hilda's fakery did not sit well in heaven. So each time Hilda would feel her secret hatred toward Fouke, an angel came to her and dropped a small pebble, hardly the size of a shirt button, into Hilda’s heart. Each time a pebble dropped, Hilda would feel a stab of pain like the pain she felt when Fouke’s faithfulness forced her to face her own unfaithfulness. Thus she hated him the more; her hate brought her pain and her pain made her hate.

As Fouke worked at their relationship, Hilda became better and better at deception. She knew exactly how to confuse Fouke—she would go through the physical motions of a devoted wife: cooking, cleaning, family get-togethers, vacations, church, etc., but emotionally she would withhold her innermost self, be distracted in Fouke’s presence, complain of being tired, be inattentive and disengaged, lack initiative in their relationship. Fouke couldn’t put his finger on what was going on because Hilda was physically present at all the right times, but inside, Fouke felt deeply hurt. He had no idea of the fake life Hilda was living despite Fouke’s forgiveness and committed love.

The pebbles in Hilda’s heart multiplied. Her heart grew very heavy with the weight of them. Weary with bitterness, Hilda began to wish she were dead. With every kind and loving act Fouke offered Hilda, Hilda’s secret hatred grew, as did the mound of pebbles. The angel who dropped the pebbles into her heart came to Hilda one night and told her how she could be healed of her hurt. There was one remedy, he said, only one. Hilda would need the miracle of the magic eyes. She would need eyes that could look back to the beginning of her hurt and see herself, not as a weak sinful girl who would never be good, but as a precious child loved by God, who was capable of self-sacrifice and committed love. She would need to forgive herself, admit her wrongdoing, and finally come clean about her years of lies and deception.

But right about that time, after the angel had spoken to her, Hilda found herself alone at the well as an attractive man approached, looking at her hungrily. Instantly Hilda’s desires for approval and pleasure rose to the surface, and she pushed Fouke and his unsettling integrity and character out of her mind. There, in the bed of her need, lay the seed of sadness mixed with desire. She reminded herself that she was short and round, her arms were round, her bosom was round, her rump was round. She did not keep people at bay with righteousness; her soft roundness seemed to invite them instead to come close to her in order to share the warm cheer of her open heart. She could tell by the look in the man’s eyes that he was looking for the same attention and pleasure, and that, together, they could easily push away the thoughts they were running from and forget about the pebbles in their hearts.

The next morning, having worked since dawn to knead his dough for the ovens, Fouke came home and found another stranger in his bedroom lying on Hilda's round bosom. Fouke was shattered, devastated, reeling, but just as he had always been, he was still anchored to his faith. So righteous was he, that he surprised everyone and invited Hilda to stay as his wife once again. But Hilda refused. With the false words of her deceiving lover on her mind, Hilda convinced herself that she had in fact been wronged by Fouke all these years, and was now, for the first time, receiving the love she deserved. Though she had betrayed Fouke more than once, she parted with greater resentment and anger and a substantial amount of pebbles in her heart. So many, in fact, that the weight of them caused Hilda to have to walk doubled-over and she had to strain to see straight ahead. But she didn’t mind, so great was her passion and distraction from herself. Hilda spread false rumors about Fouke. She then left the village of Faken behind in search of a new village where she could keep her secrets hidden and fake goodness by sharing the warm cheer of her open heart. She knew that for as long as she lived, there would always be someone wanting to be deceived by charm, someone running from the same shame she was.

Fouke, on the other hand, stayed put in Faken, working hard at his bakery, his family and friends, and his healing. It took him many years of suffering, hard work, and prayers, but in time, Fouke’s journey took him into his third season of humble joy.

Is there any stereotypical characteristic of the cuckold omitted from this story? Cold, sanctimonious, hypocritical....
Just asking.