I will never look at October the
same. There was a weekend women’s
retreat with our church and my husband had stayed home with our 3 amazing kids,
who were very young at the time. I had
reluctantly decided to attend the retreat last minute, and had the strangest
feeling about the weekend away. It was
as though there was a strong force pulling me to keep me from leaving. I looked forward to the time away in the
beautiful Colorado mountains, yet from the first step out the door I knew. It is amazing when you look back on the sweet
ways that God will whisper to your heart, preparing you for what lies
ahead. During my time at this small,
intimate retreat, each lesson that was spoken was written as though my name
could have been inserted directly into the notes. Scribbles of scripture written out on bound
spirals, with my secret struggle pasted right over the top. I can hear the prayer over me from a woman I
barely knew, as she searched me out, telling me that God had given her special
words to speak over my life. I sobbed
and listened with intensity, cherishing her faithfulness and openness with
me. It was the secret struggle I felt,
yet had no idea to what extent or even what the details were. I knew that we had been having marriage
issues and that our life was a chaotic mess with the kids, one being a baby, a
complete house remodel, and a very involved, successful ministry. I still seemed to be pushing forward trying
to keep the train full steam ahead, naively believing that we would fix this
thing. If we could just finish the
house, our stress level would go down.
If we could just get a little sleep, we would have energy for each other
at the end of the long day. If we could
only get away for a relaxing vacation, the worries and busyness of ministry
would dissolve and our passion for this great work could carry on...
But the darkness was deep, driven by
secrets, and there was about to be a horrendous train wreck on the other side
of that weekend. I stepped out of the
van to a cold feeling that I remember to this day. My husband greeted me with a weak smile,
loaded my luggage into our car, and we drove home in awkward silence. It was as though we were complete strangers. I asked what was wrong. He ignored the question. I went to bed. He stayed up late. The next day, the idealistic world that I had
been living in crumbled and the story I had written for my life was
erased. It was a new day, and God was
bringing healing through excruciating, heart breaking truth. Little by little, He began to rewrite what
would become the new us, and it was a story I did not want any part of. My identity was being changed by the minute
and I was not at all happy to be a part of this awful club I was forced to
join.
That Monday began the same as most
others. We woke up, took our oldest
daughter to school and began the morning as always. Breakfast, clean up, play time, work. Around lunchtime the babies were asleep and
my husband returned home from work for lunch, only there was no eating. He walked through the door and sat with me on
the end of our bed, letting me know he needed to talk. This moment seems like such a blur, yet I
remember every pain filled detail. I
remember the effect of his words, and the way they tore at my heart. I remember the questions instantly flowing
from my mouth… How? Why?
When? He confessed to me that he
had been involved with several sexual relationships over the past 7 years
outside of our marriage. He opened up to
me about his sexual desires that were not fulfilled and the addictions and
expectations that were not met. He
mentioned the woman he had been in conversation with over the internet that
encouraged him to share these private, personal details with me. The woman who had no business being a part of
our lives, yet she knew so much. Too
much. I remember walking out the front
door into the freezing October weather, walking down the street without even a
coat on, in complete shock. I was not
crying, only walking, and trying to figure out what had just happened and if it
was real. Eventually, I returned back to
the house, our home that now seemed so foreign and dark, calling my mom to come
get our precious children. She had no
idea. No one did. He left and I was so alone and confused and
broken. I instantly began praying,
asking God to make sense of it all. I
began to play worship music to try to calm my ever-questioning mind. It was the first day. One of the worst days.
It was also one of the best
days. Now I know that this day of sadness was also a day of God’s grace
over both of our lives. Now I know that for darkness to flee,
the awful secrets must be spoken boldly.
Now I know that deceptive
marriage is not good marriage. Now I see that God can take any ugly,
beat up, sin filled marriage and make it beautiful again. But it has to get worse before it can get
better.
Written by an Anonymous Pastor's Wife
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