Maybe Not Tomorrow Morning: Surviving Betrayal

I'm a 6'2" Bible Belt mom of 2 little girls. Former college athlete, schoolteacher, and rescuer of lost hamsters. My 6'4" blonde-haired, green-eyed husband was perfect. He was an offensive lineman for his college football team, president of the Chamber of Commerce, deacon at our Baptist church, a successful oilman, and SuperDad. I thanked God for him every single day. After 13 years of marriage, he asked to talk to me in the bedroom one evening after dinner. Gay. I cried that night after I begged him not to leave us. And then I didn't cry again for almost 2 years. After his many attempted suicides, I took him to a rehabilitation facility on my birthday. That's when his parents and I began to uncover what would end up nearly sinking us all. I spent a night with a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of Crown Royal whiskey in the backyard with my father-in-law as we tried to make sense of what was about to happen to us because of his son's sexual addiction to young men. After a full-blown tirade of rebellion, I came to my senses, saddled myself with the inerrant Word of God, and held on tightly to the promises He made. Through grueling legal battles, an unfortunate education in all things pornographic, and trying to keep my youngest medically-fragile daughter alive, the God of Israel proved to be exactly who He claims to be: a warrior whom hell's fires cannot dissuade. I'm unapologetic in my fierce adoration of His Word because I'm living proof it can drag anyone, kicking and screaming if necessary, through anything this fallen world can produce. Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes in the morning. Psalm 30:5