As a pastor’s wife, people have often come to me for advice and confided in me their secrets and struggles. It was nothing new to me. I had grown up helping Mom and Dad. I grew up listening. I grew up with secrets and was good at keeping them.
In one instance, a woman I’ll call Irene, came to me one day after our church service.
“Do you have a few minutes?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. You know, I’ve been through a lot.” She was a single mother.
I nodded, and asked about one of her children, specifically. This child was struggling academically, and I wanted to know how she was doing.
“Pretty good. Change in schools helped. So far, doing well. Grades are improving. She seems happier.”
“That’s good to know. You wanted to talk to me about something in particular?”
“Yes. I’ve been seeing someone and I need your advice,” she said. Then, before she explained further, she added: “Just between the two of us, okay? No one knows yet since he’s still married.”
“He’s married?” I looked at her dumbfounded. What was she thinking?
“He plans to leave her and is in the process of getting a divorce,” she explained.
“But he’s still married. He needs to work on his marriage. You know, your relationship is adulterous, and you need to get out of it,” I said.
“I know some Christians might think it is wrong, but don’t you see? I’ve never been this happy before. God has answered my prayers. I’ve been praying for a husband. My children need a father as well.” She proceeded to tell me how their paths had crossed. “It is obviously God’s plan.”
I had once thought that God worked like that as well, or so I wanted to believe. Actually, I knew from the very beginning that my affair was very wrong. But after a while, I had convinced myself that, perhaps, it was God’s plan for me to be with him.
He had said that he wished he hadn’t married his wife.
“But you did. So, you must have loved her,” I had said.
“If I had known what being in love feels like, I wouldn’t have,” he’d said. “I would have waited.”
“Waited for me? For so long?” It was difficult for me to believe that. “When I was born, you were already out of college and working. I don’t think you would have waited.”
“My marriage was obviously a mistake. I know now for sure that I was never in love. I thought I was, but I was wrong. It’s you I’m in love with!” he’d said.
It’s a hard thing for me to fathom now, but I had started to believe that perhaps he was right. God had not intended for him to marry his wife. After all, everyone makes mistakes, I reasoned. What if it really was God’s plan for us to be together? God wants the best for us, doesn’t He?
It was so easy to confuse the truth when my emotions got in the way. And now I listened as Irene was rationalizing her emotions, despite knowing the truth. I looked at her and wished I could share my story. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want his name exposed, or my name either, I suppose. Yet, I felt I was cheating her somehow by not sharing.
If she knew that I, too, was once deceived by Satan’s lies, then perhaps, she would be more willing to listen to what I had to say. After all, I’d been there. But, instead, all I could offer was God’s Word; not that I didn’t trust that His Word could make an impact.
The advice she was seeking from me was whether or not they should live together. “You don’t understand,” she said when I told her it wasn’t a good idea. Despite my advice, she followed her heart, and in the end, their relationship didn’t work out.
There’s great danger in following our hearts and not testing what we believe. As God said through Isaiah 55:8-9: For My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways…
God’s commands are for our protection. We create rules for our children for the same reason – we want to protect them, lead them on the right path, and bless them with good things that come as result of obedience.
God ultimately knows what is best for us, and if we obey His commands, that’s what we get, His best.
Chapter 65
Summer 2006
You must have wanted it to happen. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have said anything,” Peter said gently during one of our many conversations about the affair.
I couldn’t believe he would have thought such a thing. “I don’t think so,” I said. “You make it sound as if I wanted to engage in an affair.”
“No. But you could have kept it to yourself,” Peter said. “Many students have fantasized about teachers, yet they don’t act on it.”
“I suppose I could have remained silent,” I said. “I shared with him because I felt guilty. I also think I wanted to be disciplined.”
“Disciplined?”
I had craved discipline. When I saw my friends being disciplined, I envied them. It showed that their parents cared about them. It also demonstrated their parents’ love. I’m not talking about corporal punishment. I’d had my share of it while growing up. Mom would whip our hands or butts with a belt. But as we got older, Mom would send us to our rooms instead.
What I needed, though, was verbal discipline – parents sitting down with me to explain why this or that wasn’t a good idea, wasn’t allowed, or couldn’t be done. As odd as it may seem, I yearned to be scolded and told what to do. During my high school years, whenever I asked Mom and Dad for their opinions, their typical response was: “It’s up to you.” When I asked if I could do this or that, they responded with: “If you want to.”
“With him,” I told Peter, “he was like a father to me. I had relied on his guidance and insight when dealing with my feelings. I had shared with him my fantasy because I knew it was wrong. Perhaps I’d hoped he would’ve taken the time to sit down and tell me how disappointed he was with me. That was something I’d never experienced growing up.”
“That makes sense.”
“It happened more than fifteen years ago. I wish I’d kept a copy of my confession note,” I said. “I don’t remember exactly what I wrote or what went through my mind at the time.”
I think my deep desire for guidance and discipline in my life explains why it had been so easy for me to accept God’s teaching. God had fulfilled the fatherly role I so desperately needed. He had loved me for who I was; He created me after all. He’d forgiven my wrongdoings. He had given me a second chance. He’d guided me through His teachings – the blueprint for my life. And He’d also affirmed my worth, I was someone special.
Chapter 66
September 2008
In all the years I’ve been married, I’d never seen him outside MSD or MSD-related functions, but I bumped into his wife once at Sam’s Club. I was in the frozen food section when I pushed my cart, turning left at the end of an aisle, and she was in the next aisle, turning right. For a second, I had wondered if he was with her – a quick but casual glance around told me he wasn’t. We chatted for several minutes. When we departed, I told her to tell him I said hello.
During the first several years of my marriage, when Peter and I went out to the mall, a restaurant, or any public place, I would look out for him. Not because I wanted to see him, but because I didn’t want to be caught unaware should I bump into him. So, when we did run into each other one morning, I was caught off-guard. It’d been so long since I’d last seen him. We hugged, as Deaf people always do when greeting each other. Neither of us had much time to spare, so we managed to catch up with each other in just a few minutes: health, family, job.
Memories of him, and us, flooded my mind as they did every time I saw him. Certain scenes from our past would replay in my mind and wouldn’t go away for weeks at a time. I had wanted to see how he was really doing. Was he moving on with his life? Finding him was not to
o difficult, thanks to Google. He had shared enough information during our visit for me to look in the right places. I surfed the Internet for the organization where he volunteered. From their staff directory, I was able to figure out what his email address might be if he had been given one.
I asked Peter how he would feel if I contacted him. Although a bit hesitant, he said that he trusted my judgment. So, I clicked the Send button:
Good morning.
I’m not sure if I have the correct e-mail address; hopefully this goes through to you.
It was a nice surprise seeing you last week; you looked good. I left feeling a bit frustrated because I wanted to see how you’ve been doing. Would it be possible for us to meet to catch up? (I have talked this over with Peter and have his permission to contact you).
If, for whatever reasons, you feel uncomfortable with the idea, please say so. I’ll understand. If you are okay with the idea, when would be a good day/time for you?
Deb
* * *
Hi Deb,
It was great seeing you also. I left feeling the same way, but with so many people around it makes it difficult to catch up. You looked very good also. Ummm, I am not sure what your schedule is with home schooling and all. The first available day I have is 9th. We could meet for lunch somewhere. As I told you, I do some volunteer work and I could take an extended lunch break. If that is a problem let me know and we can figure something else out. Please give my best to Peter. Looking forward to meeting you.
* * *
Great. I’m glad my e-mail went through. Unfortunately, 9th isn’t good for me. Peter is off on Mondays, so I can get away easiest that day. So meet on a Monday, perhaps? Hope you are having a good day!
Deb
After several emails back and forth, we agreed on a date. I asked if he would feel comfortable meeting in Peter’s office at the church. I figured there wouldn’t be too many people around.
That is fine, not a problem. Where is his office?
* * *
Friday is all set. We’ll meet in Peter’s office. Meet at 8:30 a.m. or 9:00 a.m.? Will your getting away on Friday create problems with your wife? Are you going to tell her we’ll meet? Just wondering.
Deb
* * *
Deb,
Friday is fine. 8:30 a.m. would be great. My wife does not know. I did tell her that I bumped into you and others at the park last week.
* * *
I see. If anything changes, you know where to reach me. Have a good week.
Chapter 67
October 2008
A week after our meeting, I emailed him again.
Good morning.
Our week flew by and before I knew it, it’s Friday. I had spent some time thinking and debating whether I should write. I wanted to thank you for your willingness to meet me last week. The hour and half went by quickly, and I wouldn’t have minded staying a bit longer, but that was okay. I was basically happy to know you seem to be doing well.
I have a favor to ask; I’m not sure if you are comfortable with the idea, but here it is. I would like to meet you again. This time, I would like for us to talk about what happened twenty-plus years ago. Over the years, I have always wondered about several things, and I would like to have answers.
Don’t get me wrong; I have a good marriage, and Peter treats me very well. It’s just that from time to time, I would go down memory lane, and those same questions would come back. Only you can answer those questions, and I need to have those answers in order to better understand what happened and why it happened.
Take your time this weekend and think it over. If you prefer that we discuss over email rather than in person, that will be OK. If you feel uncomfortable with the idea of bringing up our past, then I’ll just have to honor your wish. If you are in the same situation as I am and have some questions you would like to have answered, then great.
Hope your day is going well. Have a blessed weekend.
Deb
* * *
Deb,
Thank you for your email, and I agree it was nice to sit and chat. Memory lane, well, that is a place I often live in. I have questions also. Yes, I would be willing to chat again. Hopefully, it will be better than it was twenty years ago at Wendy’s on Florida Ave. What day/time would be best? We can try to work something out. Maybe, the 5th? I could meet you at Peter’s office around 1:00 p.m. If that is not good we can pick another day.
* * *
The 5th will not work. We won’t be able to meet in Peter’s office. Let me check my calendar and get back to you. In the meantime, could you refresh my memory as to what happened at Wendy’s? Just a brief explanation will do. Thanks.
Deb
After a few messages back and forth regarding a date to meet, we decided on the 15th. I was nervous about the whole thing and didn’t want to wait until Peter got home to let him know of my plans. So, I emailed him:
He is willing to talk, and said he also has questions for me. We are going to meet on the 15th (time not determined and more likely, in your office). Please continue to pray for him. I hope I’m doing the right thing. I love you, and as I think back on what happened, I feel blessed that God had put you in my path.
* * *
Hi Love,
I trust you to do what is right. If you believe there is value in talking about all that, then I support it. I don’t feel threatened; I am just protective of who God has given me to love and care for (you!). Thanks for sharing, and while I have expressed discomfort in the past about all that, I always want to know what is on your heart and mind. I love you.
* * *
Thanks. You’re the besterest.
Chapter 68
October 2008
Wanting to make most of our meeting, I scribbled down several questions:
What was missing in your marriage?
Was I the only one?
Was waiting until the kids had left the house an excuse, or did you plan on leaving her?
You’re still married. Have things gotten better?
Does she know?
I was seventeen. What were you thinking? Why did you take the risk?
God has forgiven me. Have you asked for His forgiveness?
I stole glances at the paper as I drove to the church, hoping I’d remember them all. I didn’t want to place the list on the table while we talked.
“How could you have fallen out of love so quickly?” he asked me, referring to the summer I’d left him. “You had just arrived in Texas when you wrote me the letter.”
My feelings hadn’t disappeared. “I used Peter as an excuse to leave you,” I said defensively.
I found myself adding: “Remember when we made love? I was hoping I’d get pregnant.”
“That makes me feel good,” he said. “Thank you for telling me that.”
I wanted to kick myself. Why had I told him that? I knew why. I felt he was questioning my character. He had made me feel guilty for leaving him so abruptly.
“When you left, I had made a decision. I was going to leave her in July and ask you to marry me when you returned from Texas,” he said.
I looked at him dumbstruck. He was going to leave her.
“But you are still married to her,” I said.
“I love her,” he said. All of a sudden, a sickening feeling built inside me. I was hoping he’d say this, but actually hearing it was a different story. What did all our relationship mean then? Before I could think further, he looked at me and said: “But, I’m not in love with her. I’m in love with you.”
“I’m a different person from who you knew,” I said. “I was a total mess back then.”
“You were so mature,” he said, “unlike other girls in your class, how you behaved and talked set you apart.”
“But I was only seventeen,” I re
minded him.
“We would have made it work,” he said. He named a friend of his who had left his wife for a younger woman. “You should see them. They are very happy.”
I then realized that we both were living in completely different worlds. He was not able to recognize the sin we had engaged in.
God was mentioned in our conversation, but I couldn’t remember how we got to the subject. He said he attended church sometimes. I had asked why and he said, “Because it makes me feel good.”
I had actually thought we’d have a discussion like two mature adults. Perhaps he would share how his wife had nagged him, driving him into my arms. How he had desperately needed admiration and respect. How his wife had invested her time and energy in their children rather than finding time for him. How the attention I gave him through my letters and poems had made him feel on the top of the world; anything that would justify his adultery. But none of this came up.
“What happened at Wendy’s? You didn’t say in the email,” I asked.
“You scared the hell out of me when you threatened to never speak to me ever again if I said or did something. I can’t remember what, exactly,” he said. “I can’t describe the feeling, but I was so scared. That was why I gave you a lot of room over the years.”
“I don’t remember our conversation,” I said. “In fact, I remember almost nothing about my first two years at Gallaudet.”
Driving home, I pondered our conversation. I was hoping I’d have a better understanding of what had taken place years ago. But that wasn’t the case. It was so difficult for me to see his way of thinking. If we had married, we might have made it work, but that did not make our relationship right. And, the fact that he was still in love with me couldn’t escape me.
If he had admitted the sin of our adultery, I’d have felt a bit more settled. But since he didn’t and he still had feelings for me, Satan pulled the guilt I had nailed to the cross down and threw it back in my face.
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