Who We Are

Kevin and I have known each other since my late teens, we dated, casually, I was so intimidated by him I eventually stopped returning his phone calls. My first memory of Kevin is inside of a common area of a church; we are both volunteers for an after-school program for under-resourced students. Kevin is standing around with a basketball cupped by his side. Exuding inspirational, coach-like leadership, in a nearly commercial like quality, I notice him, but I don't recall what our very first conversation was about. Forcing Kevin to go on romantic picnics on the lake and dinners downtown did not yield much of anything meaningful back from me. Kevin will say we were formally boyfriend and girlfriend, but my memory does not recall that formality either.  Mutual friendships kept us in onesie, twosie, every now and then contact. This contact was usually him rebuffing my inquiries and changing his attention toward another person. I didn’t blame him. Yet, my feeling for him stayed with me,...

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. ...