Category: marriage

Back to Our Future, aka: We’re Moving!
Community · marriage

Back to Our Future, aka: We’re Moving!

Jacquelyn Sill3 Comments


It was 1988, I had been a Christian for less than 2 years, David was one month out of Bible college, and we were three weeks into our marriage, when we left California and drove across the country to Danville, Illinois, where my husband had taken a job as a Youth Pastor. During the transition, people called us “fearless.” Honestly, we weren’t fearless. Clueless, perhaps–but fearless? Not even close.

We learned pretty early on that our lifestyle was different than our peers, as their date nights and toddler’s schedules didn’t revolve around other people’s teenagers. Investing in someone else’s teenager is much like a welcoming a virus into your home, as the joys and trials overtake your thoughts, conversations, and family activities.

In the two decades that followed, we were both blessed and exasperated by the hundreds of young people we encountered living and ministering in the midwest and Southern California. We witnessed teenage friendships evolve into dating relationships that sometimes resulted in marriages, and then we experienced the joy of watching most of those marriages thrive and the grief when some of the marriages ended in divorce. My husband stood beside a young man when the frightened seventeen-year-old told his parents that his girlfriend was pregnant, and thanks to social media, we’ve watched that unplanned child be loved as she grew into a beautiful young woman. To say the least, our lives were positively altered by the teenagers who allowed us to be a part of their lives.

Over the course of the last decade, David’s ministry role within the church shifted. He was subtly ushered into jobs that were highly administrative and less relational. It would take several blog posts to explain how the transition began, how we each responded to and resisted these new roles and the way the undesired change affected his self-esteem, self-confidence, and ultimately our marriage. Mentioning the shift is irrelevant anyway, except in that it eventually frustrated us both to the point of asking questions in regards to what we wanted out of life, and the ways in which we each desired to serve the Lord and the community.

We began asking each other the romanticized question, “If money were no object, what would you do?” My answer was easy and obvious (#amwriting). David’s took months of contemplation to be realized.

After much prayer, consideration, and conversation, David is leaving his career as a Pastor to become a High School teacher.

Days after David made this decision, I woke up with random thoughts of Ruth Bell Graham, wife of Billy Graham. My heart sank as I compared myself to the upstanding woman. I thought, perhaps, if David had married a woman like Ruth, his life might have turned out so differently. Those in church leadership might value all he has to offer.  I blamed myself, the selfishness of my infidelity, for David’s life taking such a dramatic change. I felt as if I robbed him of a great life.

Once I was able to conjugate my shame into words, I shared my brokenness with my husband.

“If you had married someone like Ruth Graham, you wouldn’t be leaving the ministry,” I whispered through restrained tears.

“Who says I’m leaving the ministry?” he responded, “I’ll never stop doing ministry…and besides, if this is what comes of everything that happened, then GOOD! I couldn’t be more pleased,” and in his gentleness, he pulled me out of myself and into his belief.

And, he’s right. I can see how he will love these students and how they will bless his life. This man was created to be involved in the lives of students; he is a natural shepherd, a breathing example of God’s love as it is available through Christ. So, we leave the life we have always known for the life we once knew.

But, where?

95ccea7ce7a76aa1011145a2d49a9c43Perhaps you’ve heard the saying, “the third time is a charm”, but do you know it’s folk history? The saying evolved from a British law, which said any person who survived three hanging attempts would be set free. The law came about in 1885 when a West Country sailor was convicted of murder and sentenced to death by hanging. After three failed attempts, the sailor was imprisoned and later released. He died a free man in the 1940’s.

Likewise, after two attempts at living in the Antelope Valley we are returning for the third time to live in the high desert of California. Beginning August 8th, David will be teaching at a public High School, and we will be investing in the community that has twice before been our home.  We are eager for whatever God has planned as we return to living in the wide open spaces, amid the wild poppies and Joshua Trees. Our hope is that the third time will be a charm, and this will be our final relocation. We have felt for a while that ‘the best is yet to come’, and we see that in going back we are moving forward. 

When It Matters Most
affair recovery · Freedom · marriage · spiritual growth

When It Matters Most

Jacquelyn Sill4 Comments

I like to imagine that I have my own bodyguard. A tough guy, who is equally intelligent. Imagine James Bond, minus the misogyny, following me around and protecting me from the world’s terrors. Oh, and the terrorizing is primarily internal, so he also lives in my brain. You know…phenomenal cosmic powers…itty-bitty living space.

My brain bodyguard has been a hard working guy for the last couple years. He’s worked every weekday and then straight through the weekends. He’s even had to put in overtime, working every effing holiday. I’m sure he gets tired, but he keeps showing up with his weapons of truth and encouragement whenever I am tempted to crawl under a rock of shame. When I am eager to walk the path of comparison, he reminds me to walk the other way. In attempt to help me stand confidently, rather than quivering in a corner, he prompts me to see the truth, without relying on the lies in commonly used, but altogether false, phrases:

“In the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take.” False. We regret the times we hurt people. We regret the mistakes we made that caused distance and division. We regret our failures. That being said, we don’t live in those failures.  We brush ourselves off and keep moving forward, but we sure as hell regret hurting people. We aren’t sociopaths, for crying out loud.

tumblr_lnjyxzj72n1qm7w50o1_400“Live. Love. Learn. Regret Nothing.” False. Regret SOME things. We need to allow ourselves to feel the searing pain of regret without fearing that we won’t recover. Because the truth is, we CAN completely acknowledge our wrong doing, feel horrible about it AND recover. God’s work through our defects is actually the definition of grace. When our failures are transformed and we grow there is a double blessing. We are restored AND God is glorified. The learning is beautiful and the growth is immeasurable, but it is only true growth if it comes from a desire to never do it again. Which by the way, is also known as a regret.

Anyway, back to the bodyguard. Even though he is on fleek and does his job “hund-P” there’s a crack in the wall. There’s a backdoor, a way in, so to speak. You see, when I go to sleep, my bodyguard takes a break, and quite often I have terrifying, shameful dreams. I am continually assaulted and accused by a person who had every right to be enraged with my selfishness. Everything about the dream interaction is chaotic; it’s noisy and polluted. There’s rage and anger coming at me with any response I make to the person. Every apology is unwelcome. Most recently, last night that is, the person handed me a frightening book and told me I had to read it in its entirety. (Yes, this is what nightmares can look like for writers…pretty boring, I know.) The book was terrible, not because it was part of the “50 Shades of Grey” series, but rather because the title spoke of my personal weaknesses. This morning, I can’t even remember the words on the cover of the book. It was bright blue and the lettering was yellow, but the guilt inciting words have receded back into the darkest recesses of my mind. Not being able to remember them in the light of morning has given them added power over me.

When I rose, and my husband and I began to make our bed, he asked, “How’d you sleep?”

“Not good. Dreams, well, nightmares.” I answered.

“Oh no…what of?” he asked.

“Same thing. Shame. Always shame. It’s just exhausting.”

I can’t blame my bodyguard for taking a break while I am sleeping, especially when I consider how hard he works in my waking hours. I brush my teeth and look in the mirror. The bodyguard still hasn’t shown up. I am alone. As I walk out to the kitchen, I make the mistake of opening a social media app on my phone (because no one else ever does this when they are already feeling awful, right?). The very first post reminds me of a large event happening at my former church. This is a huge trigger for me. Something that I had once spearheaded before I self-sabotaged my life is right in front of me. I see tables. I see painted pillars. I see mistakes made in the name of lust. My hands are shaking, and I hear a ringing bell and a woman declares, “Shame!” (That’s a Game of Thrones/walk of atonement reference…I don’t actually own a bell.)  Eventually, I grab some hot coffee and wander out to my front porch to read and recover. The breeze has caused a film of dust to fall on my books. They are gritty to the touch. The trees are full of birds, winged rodents, making noise. They chip and sing, but it’s not my song. It’s meant for someone else. The tears are coming now–but there is still no sign of my bodyguard. Is he sick? Did someone get to him? Where is he? Why am I alone?

I don’t have a particular plan when I open my Bible, but there is bookmark shoved in the book of Isaiah. I begin to pour into the words. I’m reading and I’m praying. I’m looking for a salve. Unfortunately, the bookmark is at Chapter 28. The subtitle is Woe to Ephraim. These are not the pleasing meme worthy verses that are so often Instagramed. I read them anyway. I will not pick and choose and only focus on the popular verses.

I arrive at Chapter 29. The subtitle has only a slight variation: Woe to David’s City. The variation is not a good one in my case. I push through because, oddly, the pain of the nations is not making me feel worse. It is making me feel normal and reminding me that I am not alone. I am not the first person to make choices that brought woe. I am not the only one to mourn and lament. I continue reading for two more chapters: Woe to the Obstinate Nation and Woe to Those Who Rely on Egypt. I am just about to close my bible when I see the heading for Chapter 32: The Kingdom of Righteousness. 

13072859_10154011175611970_792728843836938532_oAs I begin to read I am no longer looking for a salve. I am just absorbing the calm that has taken over the porch. There is a quietness that I am not only comfortable with, but relishing in. A light breeze moves the wind chimes and their bell-like sounds blend with the music of the sweet birds. An altered perspective is a glorious thing. And as I read a verse jumps from the pages of Isaiah and lands on my heart.

Justice will dwell in the desert

and righteousness live in the fertile field.

The fruit of righteousness will be peace;

the effect of righteousness will be quietness and confidence forever.

Isaiah 32:16-17

No, I am not three hundred miles away participating in an event, and I cannot silence every regret that surfaces while I am sleeping, but when I am awake, when it is quiet and when it matters most, I am not alone.

He said, She said
affair recovery · marriage

He said, She said

Jacquelyn Sill14 Comments

heartsHe said he would be her friend.

She said she had never had a friend like him.

He said, “Let’s take a walk on the beach.”

She said, “You can hold my hand.”

He said, “I’ll write to you from England.”

She said, “You can kiss me goodbye.”

He said, “I want a Christmas wedding.”

She said “I do.”

He said, “I hope we have a girl.”

She said, “I can’t believe we have a daughter!”

He said, “Don’t be afraid to love a baby boy”

She said, “I like the name Austin.”

He said, “God loves this baby.”

She said, “I think her name is Molly.”

He said, “Our family is complete.”

She said, “I’m pregnant…again.”

He said, “We will hold our baby girl in heaven.”

She said, “I’m clinging to that truth.”

He said, “We need to find another church home.”

She said, “I will follow you anywhere.”

He said that he was sorry.

She said that it wasn’t his fault.

He said, “There’s been a car accident”

She said, “I loved Dan, too.”

He said, “My Mom is gone.”

She said, “I’m sorry.”

He said, “That boy wants to marry our daughter.”

She said, “I want him to marry her, too”

He said, “Our son is going to marry that girl.”

She said, “I certainly hope so.”

He said, “I can’t wait to be a Grandpa”

She said, “No one will do it better.”

He said, “What’s wrong?”

She said, “I lied and I fell.”

He said, “I forgive you.”

She said, “I messed everything up.”

He said, “I love you more.”

She couldn’t respond.

He said, “God has a plan.”

She said, “I believe you.”

He said she was his best friend.

She said she had never had a friend like him.

1798500_10152740422496970_6692481151554192273_n

The Twenty-Seventh List
affair recovery · marriage

The Twenty-Seventh List

Jacquelyn Sill17 Comments

The Twenty-Seventh ListTomorrow is the day of our Twenty-Seventh Wedding Anniversary. For 10 months I’ve wondered what this day will feel like. There has been a list of reasons why this day was to be dreaded.

After any crisis, when we encounter holidays, birthdays and anniversaries, there is added weight to the calendar. We learned about this nearly two decades ago after our daughter died. When we were in the beginning stages of grieving, her birthday didn’t just arrive. It occurred in extremes. As we moved closer to the date, with no party to plan, our mood shifted downward. Then there was the mind-blowing low as we acknowledged the reality that our nineteen-month old would never age, accompanied by a calm peace as we (somehow) survived this knowledge. Throughout the actual date of her birthday, friends and family reached out and demonstrated their love to us, and we were catapulted to a high. Their acts of kindness lifting us heavenward, towards her. Towards Him.

This crisis of marital infidelity takes out stones and lodges them at my calendar. A heavy awareness of broken vows weighs me down when I think of my wedding anniversary. My own mind throws the stones, and each stone tears a hole in the calendar, as if it is trying to rip the 18th of December from time and erase it completely.

You see, when we celebrate we are essentially saying, “Good job!” After an affair, do we utter such an absurdity? It feels false. It feels as authentic as congratulating a drunk driver for surviving a collision. Sitting here, the day before our Anniversary, my mind reels at the thought of how we will navigate through the day.

Overhead clouds roll in and respond to my aching heart. As the dark rain clouds release themselves, everything slows down for a few hours. I look out the window and watch as the desert ground absorbs the moisture, and I wonder if this year, this horribly-hard-year, is to be the defining year for our marriage. Will the betrayal of last year absorb itself into our lives for good? There are twenty-seven years to consider, but it seems as if it all comes back to this horribly-hard-year.

I find myself trying to remember something significant from each year we’ve been married. There has to be more to our marriage than this horribly-hard-year. If this is the sum of it all then let the stones have their way and rip this date from the existence of time. Without a verbal prompt, I grab a dry-erase marker and board. I begin to make a list.

I list memorable moments in our marriage. I try to think of everything that may stand out in each of the twenty-seven years. I use a calculator to keep track of the years and the ages of our children. Over the course of the afternoon, I continue listing small, somewhat meaningless events and activities.

I am making what I call The Twenty-Seventh List, but I stop before I’ve reached the end. I am afraid to list anything from the horribly-hard-year. Our marriage is made up of so much more than what we’ve been living through lately.

The Twenty-Seventh List: (an overview)

I note the times we have relocated because of ministry. Three weeks after our wedding, rather than taking a job where we could stay near family, we began our marriage by relocating to another state and taking the responsibility of a full time ministry position. It was just the two of us and we were beyond frightened, but we believed that God would provide us a community and life in the unfamiliar land.

I note the homes we have bought together; there were four. My husband and I have survived escrow together on four occasions–surely that alone is worth some type of celebration.

I note the animals who have been a part of our family. Dogs & cats, turtles & fish–too many to disclose. The names of each animal bringing about a memory that causes a grin or a grimace. Which memory was the most heartbreaking? It’s a tie between, Sami-girl, everyone’s favorite poodle mix who disappeared one Fourth of July, and Maximas the black Godfather cat who was run down in front of our home on Christmas Eve.

I note the four greatest blessings to ever grace the home of an undeserving couple.  In the seventh year of our marriage, for a short amount of time, we lived in a household with all four of our children. Everyone was born and no one had died. Every night there were four little bodies to feed and bathe. Jammies had feet, cups had lids, and everyone had a blankie. We were aware that time was fleeting, but we weren’t aware that everyone’s clock wasn’t set to the same timer.

I note the day our daughter died. Passion turned to depression. Pain turned to more pain. Hard turned to perseverance.

I note the bicycles, scooters and cars given as gifts. The dance attire and graduation gowns. The California Missions projects, photo shoots, and science fair failures. I note the piano lessons gone wrong and baseball games gone well. I note the yard sales, overseas missions trips, and sleepovers. I note the wedding engagements and the evolving nature of our still extending family.

I note the day our daughter told us we were to be grandparents. An unexpected fear had come over me when she shared her news. I knew what it felt like to love and lose a child. For her to love greatly would mean that one day she may hurt greatly.

I note the look on our granddaughter’s face two weeks ago. When this little one came to visit, she knew us. This little perfect girl knew her Papa and Mimi.

10448699_10152640953166970_4820699958563815258_oHere’s the thing. Not one good thing on the list makes the whole of our marriage anymore than any one failure makes the whole of our marriage. To survive this horribly-hard-year we are reliant on grace. To survive any marriage, the players are reliant on grace. A wedding anniversary is a day to celebrate a series of days where two people were successful at treating one another with more grace than either one deserved. This year we are celebrating twenty-seven years of failures and successes. Neither being more significant than the other. Our failures have worked their own good, in the same way that our successes have been stumbling blocks.

Tomorrow is the day of our Twenty-Seventh Wedding Anniversary. For 10 months I’ve wondered what this day will feel like. There is a list of reasons why this day is to be celebrated.

Why I Don’t Like Weddings Anymore
affair recovery · marriage

Why I Don’t Like Weddings Anymore

Jacquelyn Sill10 Comments

I used to like weddings. 

There is something surreal about them; everything is familiar, and yet, different. There are the basic elements: bride, groom, flowers, a general feeling of enchantment, and the personality of the couple shines in the variations that emerge. At one wedding the relaxed nature of the couple shines in the simple elegance, while at the next wedding the bride’s whimsical flare, spice and love for life seems to bounce off the over-the-top centerpieces. White rose buds tipped in golden glitter line the isles, and cream colored satin ribbons dance in the breeze. Chairs sit uniformly under lofty trees as guests arrive and greet one another.

Yes, I used to like weddings. But, as I am going through this season in my life, I feel differently about weddings.

The music begins, heads turn to the back of the room, and as the bride makes her way down the isle my eyes are fixed on the groom. He believes in her, and it shows in his eyes. He pursued her for this moment. He has arrived to make promises to be true to her for the rest of his life. I remember when my husband had that look in his eyes–and my heart cringes at how I disappointed him. The vows are made–vows to be honorable and respectful. I think of my vows, and I believe I meant them with all sincerity when I made them. I didn’t enter into marriage lightly, and yet, I still found myself in the place of those who are often accused of doing just that.

My heart beats against my chest when the couple takes their vows. They are making a covenant before God and before the people who matter the most in their life. This is a sacred and holy moment, and this is why I have realized that while I used to like weddings, I can’t say I like them anymore.

Because, now…I love weddings.

Inside of this shattered soul the difference between liking a wedding and loving a wedding is the difference between death and life. Yes, the reminder of how I failed is real, and dreadfully painful–but there is another fascinating reminder I’ve encountered. Now,  more than ever before, I am so thankful for the covenant of marriage. A marriage covenant is a vow that a man and a woman make before God that involves promises and commitments. It’s a spectacular thing. The obvious point of taking the vows is to keep them–a promise to be faithful is meant to be kept, and if I could change the past–that would be my story.

That’s not my story.  However, my story still has the wonder of the blessing of a covenant. When my heart failed, my husband’s heart held tight to the covenant HE had made. When I was blind, he led me. When I couldn’t believe, he believed for me.

The first few weeks after the affair was disclosed I was horribly confused. My mind was completely out of kilter when it came to making the most basic decisions. On the very first day I said these words: “I’ll be okay if I end up alone.” Interestingly, that same night when “alone” came calling I had a near panic attack. I was lost in a world of fear, and my self-made isolation was a breeding ground for lies and insecurities. My nervous system was a wreck, and all of the tension and anxiety I had been pushing down came screaming out in the way of ticks and nail biting. Sounds lovely, doesn’t it? It’s amazing that my husband didn’t turn and run. And, why didn’t he?

Because he made a vow.

Even when I failed–he held his side of the vow. This is the reason I am so much more in awe of the marriage covenant.  The marriage covenant was not made for the days we spend on the beach watching the sunset. It wasn’t made for the late nights we sneak in and watch our children, or our grandchildren, sleeping in their beds. The marriage covenant was not made for the Instagram days. The marriage covenant was made for the days that one of us may feel like quitting.

On day two after disclosure, my husband looked at me and asked, “Do you want it to work?”  I had already asked myself that question over and over, so sadly, I knew the answer was not going to please him. I couldn’t tell him that I wanted it to work. The best I could give him was, “I want to want it to work.”

In that moment, when I might have given up, he wouldn’t quit. My husband remembered our covenant–for the both of us.

Brennan Manning talks about a time in his life when he longed for “more”. The unattainable “more” was leading him and his choices. First he searched for “more” in military accolades, then he searched for “more” by chasing his dreams of being a writer, until finally he had an encounter with God and he was given a glimpse of everything that Christ truly is. He describes it in All Is Grace,

It was not that I found the more but rather the more found me. Christianity was not some moral code; it was a love affair, and I had experienced it firsthand.

We have made a covenant with our Lord, and He longs to have a love affair with us. It’s a love affair that is made stronger by the covenant–a lot like a husband pursuing his wife whom he adores. And in the same way that my husband believed when I was trapped in a place of doubt, when we cannot find the unattainable more God allows His more to find us.

God longs for us with the same furious love that a husband longs for a wayward wife. He wants so badly to bring us back into the relationship that we once had, and He will stop at nothing in that pursuit.

The weddings of Kings and Queens, of Dukes and Royals, the wedding of even the fairest young Princess does not compete with the glorious day that we made that covenant with our Lord. Every wedding I attend reminds me of the strong man I married and of the faithful God who pursued me.

There is nothing that cannot be forgiven, and no vow broken that cannot mend. A wedding is a day, and a covenant is a lifetime. Jack and Billie McElroy

The Lies We Believe
affair recovery · marriage

The Lies We Believe

Jacquelyn Sill10 Comments

I am an obsessive researcher, but only compulsively.  Driven by this nature, God spoke to me in a most unlikely place. Through a Google search I wound up on an advertising website reading an article entitled, Changing Beliefs Vs. Changing Behaviors. The article stated that while it is easy for advertisers to change customers behaviors, changing customers beliefs is a daunting task. In other words, if you are a die hard Coke fan, you may purchase Pepsi because it is on SALE–but deep inside, you still believe (and may be willing to argue) that Coke is better than Pepsi.

Now, I am not interested in the cola wars, or even in advertising. What I am interested in is the truth. Recently, I made a lot of self destructive decisions that ended up causing a great deal of pain, and knowing the truth about my motivations matters to me greatly.

One of the things that I’ve come to realize is that my belief about how I felt about my marriage was a major influence. According to Rick Reynolds, Founder and President of Affair Recovery,

“Most of us believe that the path to a better marriage is through better behavior, but that is not the full truth of the recovery process. In fact, it might not even be the most important thing. More frequently, the path to a better marriage is through changing the lens through which we view our mate.”

This is where is gets tricky, because this is where I unload some of my baggage, or “air some laundry.” Prior to meeting my husband, I had a habit of dating young men  who were not chivalrous. I gave myself completely to several relationships, and each relationship followed the same pattern of intimacy & thrill followed by rejection & heartache. My draw towards people who would treat me poorly increased. At the ripe young age of 21, I understood and even empathized with Glenn Close’s character in Fatal Attraction.

Then I met a very kind young man who treated me differently. His composure with me demonstrated the love that my Heavenly Father has for me. He was respectful and faithful. As much as I knew this was a good thing, it was equally confusing. During our engagement period, there were signs that I was struggling. I did not understand why I didn’t have the erratic feelings that I had experienced in the past. What I didn’t know was that the feelings to which I had become accustomed to were not associated with love, but rather with rejection.  I did not understand how to allow myself to be loved rather than used.

Being used was familiar and understood. This was new territory, and while I attempted to understand it–I didn’t talk to anyone about what I had come to believe, because sadly, what I had come to believe was that I had made a mistake. I had taken a vow, and I had started a family–what I felt was irrelevant. I assumed that as long as my behavior emulated a strong Christian wife, my heart would follow suit and walk the line.

Circa 1988

“If I just had the right behavior, it wasn’t important what I believed.”

Over the last several months, that lie has been shattered. I did not make a mistake when I married my husband. It’s a terrible lie and I don’t believe it anymore. It is also true that believing that lie is dangerous. Every single lie we tell ourselves is harmful. Every. Single. One.

Changing patterns of belief may be uphill work, but the Lord is in me and He is driving every step I take. Sometimes it’s unpleasant and ugly, but I am not interested in looking good on the outside and being confused on the inside. I am not interested in presenting a persona that isn’t true to who I am. The only reason I would strive for that would be if I were selling something. And, once again, I am not interested in advertising.

Outtakes of a Crisis
affair recovery · marriage

Outtakes of a Crisis

Jacquelyn Sill24 Comments

Over the last 12 weeks, David and I have been on a journey, and because we had our situation announced to the large ministry I was a part of, we decided that we would not hide what was happening in our lives from the people who were interested and invested in walking this journey with us. We’ve posted pictures of us at the Grand Canyon, scriptures that have touched us deeply, moments with our granddaughter, and other updates. This morning, as I lay awake in the too-dark-to-get-up-hours, I began to scroll through pictures that haven’t made the cut. These outtakes made me smile and reminded me of some simple things I’ve come to learn.

my family

I didn’t lose everything.

Initially, the enemy wanted me to believe that I had lost everything.  “You’ve lost your job… you’ve lost your reputation…you’ve lost friendships…you’ve lost your platform…you’ve lost your voice!” he laughed at me.

 But, really…I did not lose the most important thing. My husband and my children stood close to me on the day I disclosed my affair. It was not easy for them to do, but in their anger…they did not sin. They chose to forgive me over focusing on their pain. We’ve had hard moments. Ugly, tense, tear-filled moments. But we’ve had them together.

boys will be boys

There are young men watching it all. 

My husband did not sign up for this. He wouldn’t have chose it, and given the chance to redo it all, I wouldn’t have chose it for him either. But, here he is. An example to younger men. We have an all male college/young adult Lifegroup that meets in our home weekly, and these young men were told in the first week what was happening in our marriage. They have continued to gather in our home, and they are like family to us. As they come and go from our home, they have seen my husband talking and praying with me on our front porch on many occasions. The way he has treated me is penetrating them in ways they aren’t even fully aware. Seeds are being planted without them having a foreknowledge of their future trials. How will they respond if their wife should fail them in this way, or another? Will they ask her to leave? Will they punish her and treat her badly? Or will they walk with her through the mess she created? 

beach family

We get to share what we are learning. 

That’s such a great privilege. It’s one I don’t feel I deserve, but God has already begun to redeem this sin in this way. In the same way that young men are watching my husband and how he responds to me, we are watching our adult children differently. We are open and honest about the ways we neglected small issues early in marriage.They are asking questions and we are willing to share honestly–with a broadened perspective.  We are blessed to have this time with people who want to learn from our mistakes, so that they can make different choices…better choices.

us at the parkIsla at the park

We are going to be okay.

Sometimes it’s scary. Last week when the leaders of the church decided that there was no longer a job for my husband at the church, we were heartbroken. It felt like it would be the final blow when we were already down for the count. But, that’s not the truth. God is still on His throne. He wasn’t surprised by the affair, and He wasn’t surprised by the reaction of others. He has had a plan for us that included the responses of everyone involved. God is the redeemer of all.

isla selfie

God’s timing is perfect. 

When our daughter died in 1995, our younger son was an infant. Days after we buried her, I remember glancing over at our messy little nine-month-old boy in his high chair and saying, “well, hello.”

God had given me an infant to love at the darkest time in my life. My baby was completely dependent on me and he didn’t have a clue as to the depth of my pain. He just knew that he wanted his Momma. And here I am, nearly 20 years beyond those dark days,  and I have found myself revisiting some terrible days filled with terrible fears. And then there is Isla. God has given me this precious little granddaughter to love at one of the darker times in my life.

How can I doubt a God who took these things into consideration? He knew these wonderful hearts–the way they would be burdened by my sin, and He still showed mercy on me. I did not deserve the mercy I have found, and I will never be the same after experiencing it.