It has been said that man is the only creature who runs faster when he is lost.
Sure enough, that was me – trying to survive in an abusive marriage, striving and praying and trying – running ever faster but always headed in the wrong direction. At long last I found myself backed into a windowless corner where decades of denial had finally run their course. It was then that I had to offer up my most painful of all confessions.
You see, up until that moment, I had held to my story, the one I had fabricated about my marital destiny, the one that ultimately led to the nightmare from which my children and I now needed to be rescued. The original account affectionately chronicled how and where my husband and I first met, the way he doggedly pursued me and how our courtship and marriage unfolded. Surely I had presented an image where it seemed that God had brought us together.
But so many years later I found myself virtually suffocating under a wave of conviction so overwhelming, it felt as though my heart might explode.
Continue reading The Most Painful Confession: Coming Clean With God – and Myself
My eldest daughter, Charla, recently wrote a paper for her college psychology class about depression and decided to share it with me. The subject of her paper was her younger brother, Brett, and what he suffered as a young boy in an abusive home. (You can read Charla’s account of her class presentation