One of the most intimate, kindest gifts God has ever given
me is the gift of forgetting. She has a
name and a face. I do not remember
either. I can recall so many of the
details of what once happened along the years of our lives together, yet these
specifics are lost. At one point in my
life I thought I needed all the answers, and now I know that I have what is
necessary, and no more. God allowed just
enough. Just the right amount of
information to move me forward, yet not enough to break me.
It was a cold November night when I felt that I had been broken. The one before he left and we were together
in the same bed yet worlds apart. The
last excruciating night when I asked again and he finally answered. The night I learned that the woman from the
internet was more than just someone to talk to in the alone hours of the
night. He said she was amazing and she
understood him. She allowed him to be
himself and listened and encouraged. She
had been there when I was not. She was a
wife and a mother, and in an unhappy place herself. She needed and he needed. Through secret communication there became a
drawing of hearts and souls, needing to be fed.
Words were no longer enough, there must be more.
My husband left the next morning in search of more. More passion.
More excitement. More
attention. More of what he felt he
deserved at the young age of 30, too young to be so burdened and tied
down. And she promised the freedom he longed
for.
I decided long ago that my battle with her was not worth my
time. In my heart, I knew that she was
also being lied to and made to believe that this fairy tale ended with a white
horse instead of a burned down castle. I
made up my mind to focus my attention on what I needed to do to keep my family
together. That was not an easy task
considering the fact that he had left me for her, and was not giving me any
information as to what was happening or even where he was living. My mind was full of so many brutal questions,
and in search of answers, I searched for her.
Was she beautiful?
Was she provocative?
Where did she live?
Were they seeing each other often?
Were they sleeping together?
Could they truly love each other?
I had no name and no idea of where to start. He protected her and had allowed her into our
personal space. He had put a wedge
between us and the closer they grew together, the farther that wedge pushed us
apart. The thoughts of and feelings for her
became an obsession of both of ours. He
wanted more and I wanted less. I wanted
her gone. GONE.
It is the most defeating feeling to know your husband has
left you for another woman. There is
such a drastic force of insecurity and depression that takes you over, leaving
you for dead. Another woman. The awful words
no wife wants to hear. And, Satan, in
all of his evil and hatred, shining the light of YOU ARE NOT ENOUGH in your
face, leaving you blind. Blind to God’s
truth and purpose. Blind to the fact
that she, this other woman, also has faults
and mood swings and bad days. Drowning
in a sea of worry that you should have done more, been more, loved harder. After all, if you had been more like her…
this would have never happened.
And then God happened.
He took that dim light from satan and shoved it down his throat. Little by little, He began to open my eyes to
the fact that we truly were not enough, but He was. He wrote on my heart that until we searched
for Him to be what we needed, we would always be discontent and looking for
more. While it took a good bit of
healthy growth and prayer to overcome the insecurities that are left in the
aftershock of an affair, I see now. She
holds no power over me. I feel like that
is why God sweetly erased her name out of my memory. It is a symbol that she does not get to play
a role in the script of my life any longer.
He has made all things new.
Written by An Anonymous Pastor's Wife
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