Who We Are

At some point, amongst the crushing waves of pain and hard hitting despair, Kevin calls me, saying he has something to tell me, wanting to make sure I am home. This cold intro causes an intense reaction from my body. Historically, Kevin had always delivered the worst news, out of nowhere, a feeling, even now, percolates even when he opens his mouth to start speaking to me. Before this Kevin had been given a sexual integrity test, which flagged him as addicted to sex. I was floored, feeling naive, and further betrayed. But Kevin has a seemingly laissez-faire attitude when telling me, I am confused as to what this all really means, and in reality, am in no way prepared for what this addiction really means.  As I waited for Kevin to come home, I went over hypotheticals, I had demanded he tell me what was going on, but he would not purge any sort of narrative. I completely thought the other person involved with him had killed themself or had tried to. This did n...

All of the layers begin to unfold as we trudge on, after leaving the stage, we walk 20 feet over to our house, I don’t remember what we did. Many of our close friends come to us offering love and support. They come over and over again. The church would hold a healing service later on that evening that Kevin and I have no clue about, even though we are the reason for it. We are not invited to participate, and only find out later through friends saying how much meaning and comfort it brought them. I smile and nod, distancing myself emotionally from the absolute uprooted nature of my relationship with the church. How strange, to be a central part of something, and then not, and then be shut out of a process of healing. I stand outside of this process, intentionally or not, and feel very still. This stillness is not peace or understanding but a universal effort to keep both feet on the ground as the world has in no way stopped to accommodate me.  Everything in our lives to...

Standing next to Kevin as he told the entire congregation he was resigning from the church, because of an extramarital affair, turned the dagger in my heart clockwise. The layered nature of this entire event seems supernatural. No one had any idea what was happening beforehand, members and friends eagerly met us, as they did every Sunday morning, eager and energized to worship. Maintaining my composure as I put one foot in front of the other is not for me, or my friends, or the strangers in the sanctuary. I only hold my entire self together for Kevin. To be so broken, to fail as deep as all the oceans combined, and then walk through all of the shattered glass, to start over, with integrity, is an action I am still very much in awe of.    In the moment, I could only feel the shock in the room; I kept my eyes on Kevin the entire time. I, in no way, wanted the memory of everyone’s face to have a permanent fixture in my mind or memory.  Standing up in front of the church mean...

Kevin leaves the house exasperated, rubbing his hair and face dramatically, stating he would be out dealing with something. I nod my head and continue reading to Harper and Elijah. Time passes. I start looking for open positions in the Oklahoma City area, my hometown, as I feel like normal people do not live like this. I can no longer sit, waiting, on my hands for this life to change. And I am very tired of not being normal. This is the first time I have cracked in five years under the mantle of ministry and the mantle of Kevin's depression. The most core portion of my heart speaks to my brain.   If I can change our circumstances our lives will be more normal; I affirm this vision with further Google searches. I accept my broken position of failure to achieve many of the goals I have wholeheartedly clung to, knowing all my efforts have meant nothing in the context of my survival inside of a rather large vacuum. I start framing how I will tell this to Kevin. ...