31 years ago today, on the day I got married, I was 21. There was a lot I didn’t know. A lot! I look back now and can see just how utterly clueless my 21-year-old self was about life, love, and marriage. I’ve heard it said that love is blind and that perhaps it’s good that it is for no one would ever marry.
Category Archives: marriage
My husband and I have attended countless marriage conferences and retreats. We have participated in, led, and even preached a slew of marriage studies and sermons over the years. I am also well-versed in the 5 Love Languages and I do appreciate them for their practical application of showing love to one another. I tell you all of this not to boast but to explain that while those were all good things, they weren’t enough. But when the bottom dropped out of my 30-year marriage and everything was measured with distrust, my heart longed for a deeper understanding of how I might know my husband loves me. I was reaching for a handle that could help me distinguish between the expression of love and what love actually is.
A prayer for my unfaithful husband? I’m sure you’re wondering why I am praying for my husband who chose to betray our marriage covenant. Honestly, sometimes I wonder the same thing.
Infidelity in marriage is such a complex form of pain and trauma. Everyone’s story is different and deep no matter what the circumstances of the betrayal are. All stories of marital infidelity, at least the ones I’ve come across, come with a thick layer of anger that relentlessly bubbles to the top. While anger is a prominent feeling when we’re wounded, it is not the root feeling. Anger ignored, no matter the root, will turn to bitterness and bitterness steals our peace.
I need to tell you something. I’m coming to you vulnerable, emptying my heart in hopes that it will fill yours. When it (the thing I need to tell you) happened recently, I knew it was a hug from God that had to be shared. My hope is that this piece of my story that has been private for seven years of September 3rd’s will encourage you as you wait on the Lord even when He seems to be moving at a snail’s pace.
JJ Heller’s song, Braver Still, is playing as I hit “publish”. I know this is not a coincidence.
Dear friends and family,
You know how “they” say, “there’s always more to the story?” Well, if I didn’t believe that before (which I did), I certainly do now.
There’s no easy way to tell you this except to just spit it out.
Due to the recent discovery of my husband’s sinful choices, he and I have entered into a season of therapeutic separation. Our marriage is very broken. I’m sure many of you are stunned but no one could be more stunned than I.
Dear hurting wife, I see you.
I see you because I am you.
I see your despair behind those honest but cleverly crafted Facebook posts.
I see your questions because I, too, have questions.
I see your fears for I, too, battle the all-consuming flames.
I see your utter loneliness while standing in the midst of the crowd.
Dear old husband,
I’m aware that neither of us really think of ourselves as old. I wonder if we’ll be old when we’re 80. I’m not quite sure. I don’t know what “old” is but I think we’re there and if not, we must be close because the physical signs are flashing in neon at this point. There are times when I simply can’t believe all that we’ve made it through but then there are times when I’m reminded of every single adventure as they run deep throughout my slowing bones.
I’m sharing a bit about my anger issues over at JordanHarrell.com as it relates to marriage and making peanut brittle. Here is an excerpt of it. I hope you pop over to her site to read the rest. Thank you, Jordan, for allowing me to be a part of this amazing series, 31 Days of Marriage Guest Series.
As I watched the video I put together of our “life so far” eight years ago for our 20th anniversary, a flood of emotions made their way to my eyes and gently trickled down my cheeks. It wasn’t like other times, though. This time the 3 minutes and 26 second photo journal concluded with a deep inhale of relief rather than exhales of grief.