divorce

Temptation: The choice to make life easier (or harder) on/for ourselves

“…’You are my Lord; apart from you I have no good thing…The sorrows of those will increase who run after other gods.” – Psalm 16:2,4

I needed to run into a department store to pick up…I don’t even remember what it was, now….but it doesn’t matter, anyway. It was going to be a quick stop, so as I pulled into my parking space, I asked my two kids if they wanted to join me or wait in the car. My daughter, Evelyn opted to stay in the car. “Really?” my 10 year-old son Alex challenged. “They have toys in there.” Without missing a beat: “I know,” Evelyn responded. “And I don’t need that kind of temptation right now.”

Try to not chuckle out loud as a parent overhearing your seven year-old talk so unwittingly big…and mature.

In that moment, at least.

Her short life experience has taught her that putting herself in an environment that will spark her cravings–perhaps cravings that didn’t even exist in her mind minutes earlier–and not seeing them fulfilled, will result in little more than disappointment. Disappointment that also didn’t exist prior to walking into the situation. She doesn’t have money for anything, and she knows, in our family, just because you want a toy or whatever, that doesn’t mean you just get it.

So, in her wise-beyond-her years elementary school logic, why even bother making life harder on herself? My son, on the other hand? Yeah, like most kids his age, he seems to be in a constant cycle of lust-turned to hope-turned to emotional-wreckage due to the willful exposure to things he suddenly can’t live without…only to find out he’s going to have to find away to live without them. At least until he saves up enough money to purchase that item on his own.

Admittedly, my son comes by this tendency right. Whether he even knows it or not at this point in his life, he’s a lot like his father.

I’ve spent way too much of my adult life facing the painful back end of a choice I thought would bring me some kind of pleasure. Some more dismal than others.

*There’s the moment I craved a certain article of clothing that I didn’t need but thought would make me look cool. I went to the store, spent more money than I really should have on it, was embarrassingly late to an important meeting due to a slow checkout line, and ultimately realized the clothing was cheaply made and I ruined it after one wear.

*There’s the moment I succumbed to the urge to make myself look good by making a work colleague look not-so-good and shared some confidential and personal information I’d learned to a group of other industry peers over a late-night dinner conversation. Only to spend several days later feeling sick to my stomach because I’d broken confidence, potentially altered others’ opinion about this person on my account, and feared that information getting back to the person who shared it. Not to mention, does anyone ever really walk away from someone who just gossiped and like and/or trust that person more than they did before the gossip?

*There’s the moment–as a married man–I decided I wanted to win over a hurting, female co-worker (whom I also found attractive), and stopped by the coffee shop on the way to work one morning to get her favorite coffee as a self-indulgent act of chivalry. Only to open the door to what would be an extramarital relationship that would break apart my marriage to eventual divorce and cost me the job that I very much enjoyed three months later.

…And there have been countless other instances where I walked through a door with flashing warning signs all over it (some, the same door over and over) thinking it’d make my life better…this time; but only result in a deeper hurt, sadness, guilt and shame than the heart-emptiness I tried to fill ever was. When I thought I needed to put someone who was annoying me in their place; when I drove over to a single woman’s house late at night for a drink and “to just hang out;” when I spent most of my time at a gathering of my friends or family ignoring them (especially my own kids…ugh) as I incessantly tried to manufacture the perfect social media post to proclaim how awesome I was for doing something awesome.

This isn’t an airing of my wrongs for the sake of self-condemnation. Anyone reading this can relate to one+ of these examples. And that’s why I articulate them here, because we’re all running after other gods and as the lead verse promises, sorrow (synonyms: regret, heartache, grief, sadness, trouble) will increase to those who choose that course.

I’m naturally a person who tends to put the weight of the world on my shoulders. When I’m living out of my flesh, I beat myself up a lot and expect that life isn’t going to go my way. In my spirit, I also deal with a sadness over the sinfulness of the world and how out of order, chaotic and distant people, societies, and belief systems are from how the Father intended them to be. That’s why I pay attention to the word “increase” in Psalm 16:4. I’m already dealing with some sorrow…some sadness. We all are. By running to another god in the pursuit of eliminating that sorrow, I’m doing the exact opposite. Maybe only burying it for awhile, but eventually, that sorrow’s going to burst out in tragic proportions.

In that same passage in Psalm, King David goes on to assert in verse 11, “You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand (NIV).” From what I know about David in scripture, I have to think this is self-talk as much as it is praise. A reminder to himself that it’s God’s job to take care of his/our pleasure.

Conversely, Satan couldn’t care less about our longings for wholeness and fulfillment, but isn’t going to stop tempting us to compromise–both spiritually and sexually–until our sorrows have wrecked our lives, and often the lives around us.

So how do we kill the idols that threaten to make life only harder for us? Honestly, I’m still working that out. Thankfully, though, there’s limitless scripture to guide me in that work. I start with choosing to belief to the best of my ability that I Corintians 10:13 is true:

“God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.”

Then, praying–literally–Psalm 139:23-24:

“Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there’s is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” 

If I/we mean it, this can be an incredibly risky prayer for us(!!) Because our hearts in their nature are pretty filthy…and there are tons of offensive elements about us that–when put before a sinless, stainless, mighty God of the universe–are surely cringingly gross in comparison. This same God delights in us, though, so in our gnarliest state (“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name, you are mine.” Isaiah 43:1 NIV), we can still come to him and ask for his help to unpack our mess, bring it all into the light via confession, and then repent of it.

In the Bible, Peter says, God “resists the proud but gives grace to the humble (1 Peter 5:5 NKJV).” When I’m stuck in my self-satisfied pride, I’m not seeking his strength. If I think I’m going to overcome any flaws of my heart on my own, I’m kidding myself, hardcore.

Author Elyse Fitzpatrick wrote: “Humble confession is the door that opens streams of grace to me. I know He’ll give me His help when I bow before Him, confessing that I’m hopeless and helpless without it.”

Augustine said: “He who conceals his [sin] will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will find compassion. Confession shuts the mouth of hell and opens the gates of paradise.”

I’ve learned that confession is only going to benefit me if I’m specific about what it is I’m confessing. I can say I’m an open book all day, but wow will my pride lock me up when it comes to putting the details of my folly on display in front of even my most trusted and loving confidants. My tendency is to go into details of what happened in the acted-out behavior, but truly, confession is also in spilling the dirt about my motives, desires and thoughts that drove me to the action in the first place.

I admit, I don’t often hate my sin. In fact, a lot of times, I really like like my sin. Which is why the truth that comes out of a Psalm 139 prayer is so essential. As I’ve learned to get more honest with God (and myself), my prayers have changed from “Lord, I want to change,” to “Lord, I want to want to change.” I want the desire to fight it. And often, unless I’m completely in a situation where I’m screwed, that desire’s absent. Because, again, I don’t want to honor the Lord like I say I do. So I prayer becomes one of wanting to want to honor Him.

It’s amazing that God can love us enough to absorb not only our sin, but our lack of discipline at times to turn from it. Not only love us, but work with us and not leave us on our own to figure it out—or not figure it out. And beyond that, work with us to resist getting to those points of temptation in the first place. Which is why, as I grow older and slowly gain more understanding of who (and how and why) God is, verses like Matthew 11:28-30 carry so much more meaning for me than they ever did growing up:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Innocence

“To the pure all things are pure, but to those who are defiled and unbelieving nothing is pure; but even their mind and conscience are defiled.” – Titus 1:15

Have you ever found some artifact from your distant past–a book, a souvenir from a family vacation, a CD–and reflected on how much life has changed since you last held that thing in your hands?

When you last read those words, touched the edges of that familiar nic-nac, pressed “Play” on that disc and absorbed the melodies coming from it 10…15…20 years ago, you had some form of worldview of what life was like. You had hopes of what your life would become one day. You hadn’t considered how or when your relationships could or would go away. You had no idea the people you’d meet who would bring you great gladness or open your eyes to beauty. Or introduce you to a pain you wouldn’t dare–or even know how–to imagine.

Sometimes, I’ll come across something–maybe a picture or a note from high school or college–I shake my head and grin as I face that younger me and reflect on how hard I tried to be funny. Or cool. Or anything else that I wasn’t. Can’t say I ever thought I had the world all figured out, but I certainly always wanted it to like me–and worked countless angles to make it so. The world scared me before I even really stepped out into it.

Now, what really makes my heart weigh a few pounds heavier are those pieces from my pre-adolescent-era life. When the only hurt I knew were my parents’ spankings and confirmations that, no, we weren’t going to Chuck-E-Cheese for dinner. So much innocence. Not that I acted innocently–hence the spankings. But I didn’t even know to expect anything out of life outside of countless pick-up baseball games, Little Debbie snacks in my school lunch and agonizing countdowns to overnight trips at the grandparents’.

The last time I read through the pages of a Henry Huggins book was at my son’s age of nine. My kids like me to read about Henry and Ribsy and Ramona Quimby’s adventures out loud, which I’m more than glad to do. Just like my son and seven year-old daughter now, when I last read this story, I didn’t know rejection nor had I ever betrayed anyone who trusted me and broke their hearts.

I hadn’t failed an important test or lost a job…nor lost a loved one…yet.

I hadn’t faced the fear of growing old alone or wondering where the money was going to come from to pay my mortgage.

I didn’t pine for the someone else’s approval of me to affirm that I was OK, in my humanness, as it was.

I hadn’t questioned if God really liked me, much more, loved me.

I hadn’t really messed anything up yet.

And then, for a minute, comes a deep longing to go back to that moment. Before I’d scarred or been scarred. When I read that book or listened to that song free of nagging pains of what my sin has done or what others’ sins have done to me circling my consciousness.

This is all kind of heavy thinking, for sure. Not to back-pedal, but it’s not that I live in this space 24-7. There’s freedom from that sort of misery. And I’m grateful for the journey toward that, fully. But how beautiful is that innocence. The kind I see in my 10 year-old son and seven year-old daughter, yet very much does dwindle away a little by the hour as travelers exposed to the World’s destined-for-death elements.

An author named John A. Ritenbough once wrote:

A well-known series of scriptures, beginning in Matthew 18:1, touches on innocence and its destruction. It starts with a question from the disciples: “Who then is greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” Jesus replies that unless we become as little children, we will not be in the Kingdom of Heaven. Is not the beauty of their innocence and the harmless vulnerability of little children a major reason why we find them so adorable? They produce no harm, shame, or guilt. But what happens as they become adults? They become sophisticated, worldly, cosmopolitan, cynical, suspicious, sarcastic, prejudiced, self-centered, cool, uninvolved, and many other negative things. They also seem to lose their zest for life. Sin does that.

Of course, we can never become children again; and none of us really want that anyway, really. God mercifully gifts us with wisdom (James 1:5) and discernment (Proverbs 2) as we persevere to mature through life (James 1:4), in spite of what we’ve done and what we’ve been exposed to. To live in naiveté as an adult is novel, but it’s also dangerous–which is why children can be rarely left unattended–and dumb.

I don’t know that I’ll experience the same “zest for life” again until heaven. Which makes me all the more eager to get there, though I also don’t want to die anytime soon. Father, give us the faith to believe that we are, in fact, whole and seen as flawless in your sight because–only because–Jesus’ blood has made us that way. Let us be glad in that above any and all of our deceitful hearts’ (Jeremiah 17:9) guilt or shame.

 

 

Stumbling & Not Falling

“If the Lord delights in a man’s way, he makes his steps firm; though he stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand.” – Psalm 37:24

“For though a righteous man falls seven times, he rises again, but the wicked are brought down by calamity.” – Proverbs 24:16

“Do not gloat over me, my enemy! Though I have fallen, I will rise. Though I sit in darkness, the Lord will be my light. Because I have sinned against him, I will bear the Lord’s wrath, until he pleads my case and establishes my right. He will bring me out into the light; I will see his righteousness.” – Micah 7:8-9

I met with a new-er friend for lunch today. Because we’re young in our relationship, having only met up twice prior, there’s a lot of “getting to know you” ground to cover. There are times when I think I’ve hit my limit on the amount of people I can adequately maintain in my social circle. But when a guy like John comes around who’s inquisitive, transparent, and intentional about building a friendship–and also insightful and biblically perceptive–I always gladly find a way to stretch out that circle to fit in one more. Guys like John are gold to me.

He’s taken a lot of interest in my four+ years-old decision to stay single and wait out the potential for God to restore a presently-divorced marriage between my wife (not a fan of “ex-wife”) and me. That means remaining abstinent and not getting involved in any kind of romantically-inclined relationship. It also means facing the loneliness, frustration, extra work of being a single parent and sometimes-gigantic void of sexual intimacy.

“Man, I don’t know how you do it,” John said, gazing off over my shoulder, head shaking. “…I don’t think that I could”

He was pondering what a lot of men who sit down with me ponder. “Could I be that obedient? That consistent? That self-controlled?”

NOTE!!: Though that is truly my assignment–and I am determined to stick through it, I’ve been far from the poster boy of self-control. I’ve wandered off the path–sometimes by a step, sometimes by an overseas voyage–uncountable times.

Yes, it has been a very tough exercise of faith to abide by what scripture clearly directs divorced Christ-followers to do: remain unmarried or reconcile with my wife. No, I haven’t always had enough faith to act obediently to this direction. But the point of this post is to emphasize what I believe is true for everyone who chooses a way that chases the spirit’s leading over the flesh:

Though you stumble, there is opportunity for you to rise again. If your path is purposed to delight (and delight in) the Lord, He–the Father–won’t let you fail. At least not in a way that disqualifies you from your heart’s ultimate desire: wholeness and satisfaction. The real kind, not the kind you get from a compliment, a delicious meal or a compelling concert experience. That’s cool, but it’ll fade–and there’s still SOME sort of disappointment involved. The fact that it was a brief, temporary moment is disappointment in itself, right? The real kind of wholeness is unending and the real kind of satisfaction brings God glory, which is what we were created to do. Believe it or not.

I don’t always believe all of this.

In fact, it’s a struggle to believe it, even most of the time. I’ve made so many blatantly-wrong decisions, that, in my weakest moments of trust and/or hope, I can be pretty convinced that I’ve used up my allotment of “stumbles.” And now it’s just waiting to reap whatever ugliness I’ve sowed.

And, yes, there have been/will be consequences for my actions (Gal. 6:7-8), to be sure. Still, as I learn to trust God more, I’m getting to know him less as a coach that’s about to pull my athletic scholarship because I’ve completely failed to meet expectations and more as the high priest described in Hebrews 4:15. The one who isn’t “unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.” Jesus experienced all the limitations of living in a fallen world and he understands my carnal struggle t0 want to go a route that differs from God’s best.

One of the things I’ve had to pray for wisdom about the most is knowing the difference between God’s plan for my life, and Satan’s. I’m well-aware they both have one for each of us. As I seek to know the Lord better, I trust that I’ll grow deeper in love with him and THAT will be my main motivator to stay away from sin. While I do think sin and its after-effect stumbling equal a lot of pain and, practically, a lot of wasted time, I don’t want to not sin for that reason. I want to not sin because I delight so much in my heavenly Father, that, by comparison, I’d look at sin and be like, “Why would I want to do that?”

John Piper says, “Faith is not merely believing that Christ died for our sins, but also that he is far better than sin.” We’re going to sin. I’m going to wander off of the path God has me on. I want the faith to always know that, wherever I’ve stumbled off to is far less appealing than where God had me. And even in my stumbling, wandering in dark places…He will see my desire to live righteously and pick me back up, into the light.

 

There’s Purpose in Now

The night’s getting late, so I don’t have time to beat around the bush with this very random mid-summer thought: winters in the midwest are rough. Especially the past several in Northern Indiana. It kind of makes my stomach turn even writing about this right now–in late July–with crickets chirping and fireflies glowing outside my office window.

There’s obviously nothing that can be done about the weather, so it’s fruitless and wasteful of time/energy to gripe about it. But this year was pretty miserable. What made it most…traumatic…was not so much the degree of cold and gloom, but the longevity of cold and gloom. By February, anyone breathing and feeling in the local population I reside is generally over it and ready for warmth and longer days with sun involved.

So when snow is falling down and piling up en masse throughout March and April, the pain cycle is very much in effect: Immobilization turns into denial. Denial becomes anger. Anger into depression. Some people never even get to acceptance…and move to Texas (Hi Mom and Dad).

For example, in late March, amidst mountains of snow in the parking lots throughout my hometown, below freezing temperatures, and a barrage of school and office closings, scores of high school and college students will return from their spring break trips in heavenly Key West, Cancun, San Diego, etc. Hit the mall some Saturday afternoon during this time of year and you’ll know spring break had just wrapped because it’s a walking sea of sun-kissed skin, beach-bleached hair and shorts-wearing. A PacSun with skinny, teen legs.

Oh, did you catch the ‘shorts-wearing’ thing?

Thirteen degrees outside with snowflakes the size of throw pillows, falling sideways from the Oh-I’m-going-to-lose-my-face freezing wind.

The situation is this: these kids–understandably–have just experienced a glorious climate for five to seven days somewhere not in Indiana and they’re now ready to experience a glorious climate back home. So they dress that way. Even in a markedly un-glorious season, where short-wearing outside the home or gym is nothing but physiologically regrettable.

When I watched this spectacle most recently, I thought: No matter how badly these kids want Northern Indiana to be warm, dressing for ‘warm’ wasn’t going to make Spring come any faster. They could wear short-sleeves all day in attempts to will the next season into existence, but until the current season’s over, they are only going to be miserable.

The concept of “seasons” has been particularly important for me to understand, identify and accept over the past few years. I’m learning to accept and respect the famous verse in Ecclesiastes about seasons and how they are all made beautiful in their own time. Not mine. Not anyone’s.

Over the past few years, I’ve sat in a couple of very painful seasons where I’ve had to live through hurt I’ve caused others (most notably to the extent of it ultimately leading to a very painful divorce), the hurt I’ve had placed on me, tremendous loss, loneliness, sadness, shame and guilt. I’ve wanted to do anything and everything to get out of those unpalatable places.

And I certainly tried. I hoped for and pursued more-than-platonic relationships with women; I tried keeping myself super busy (distracted?) with friends and activities; I poured myself into work and expected the fruit of a healthy income to pacify my voids. But I’d get into those things and realize–not only are they not giving me what (I think) I want, but they’re actually slowing me down from getting to the place my heart longs to be.

Not unlike the shorts-wearing kids in the mall, just because I was doing certain things to push a season along, those things didn’t force the next season to arrive any sooner.

In his book, Emotionally Healthy Spirituality, Peter Scazzero writes:

I prefer the notions of seasons to stages when describing our life in Christ. We don’t control the seasons; they happen to us. Winter, spring, summer, and fall come to us whether we like it or not.

I tend to believe that the season I am currently in is a product of the season I came out of. And the season I am heading into (at some point) will be the product of the events — good, bad or otherwise — happening in the present. And though my decisions can sometimes affect the timing of my personal seasons, God’s best timing really is up to him (Act 1:7).

**As stated earlier and maybe a caveat to what Scazerro says above, I do believe if I can do things to slow down the process, when I’m living by my own desires/perceived needs and getting off the path that really would get me to where God wants me to go more directly. This is also why I’ve come to believe everything happens for a purpose–for what it was created to do or be. There are tons of things I do daily that are not purposeful, but a choice.**

This blog is named A Salient Season because one of the most critical things I’ve learned (especially over the past couple of years) is the importance of knowing there is purpose and value in every season of our lives. Salient means “notable, crucial, important, essential, vital, pivotal” and if we see the current place that we’re in as those things–preparation for our NEXT place–it’s a lot easier to not only take this time more seriously and intentionally.

And relax.

I’ve mentioned James 1:4 in previous posts because it’s a remarkably refreshing and inspiring promise to me: “Let endurance and steadfastness and patience have full play and do a thorough work, so that you may be [people] perfectly and fully developed [with no defects], lacking in nothing. (AMP)”

Patience isn’t exactly a great time when we’re ready to move out of an undesirable situation; but to know that a loving God who delights in us far more than we delight in ourselves is making things beautiful in his time (not ours) should be at least somewhat soothing. Especially when we look at it the way I just did.

Who knows what the next season looks like. It could be warm, cozy and sunny. Or it could be an even worse storm. Either way, what we are doing with what we have and where we are now is preparing us for where we’re going, later. And I have to believe (after trying and coming up short on a variety of other alternatives) that our decision to endure, trust, hope (I Cor. 13:7), pray, serve and wait now — without a self-mandated timeframe — will adequately (fully) prepare us for whatever lies ahead.

 

One way to start a season, Part 1

We don’t always get a choice when we start a new season of life.

Someone you love is diagnosed with cancer. Or you are diagnosed with cancer.

Your boss fires you. Or your spouse walks out on you.

You lose everything in a tornado. Or in a fatal car crash.

There are countless circumstances that can dictate the end of one season and the beginning of another. Circumstances that form a line between “the way things were” and “the way things are now…indefinitely.”

As Ecclesiastes 3:1 says for every activity under the heavens, there’s a season–we’re always living one out. Good or bad.

Sometimes, we make decisions that can (and will) immediately change the trajectory of our life, which ultimately leads to the unfolding of a new season.

We make an impressive discovery or resolve at work that leads to a huge promotion.

We absentmindedly swerve our vehicle into another highway lane and clip a motorcyclist we couldn’t see during the quick glimpse in our mirrors.

We take a job across the country.

We tear our ACL playing basketball with the kids in the driveway.

For me, my season-turning born from the decision to divulge a secret to my wife. Something that didn’t feel too secretive at first, because it didn’t totally feel too…wrong. But that’s how all extramarital relationships go, right?

In September 2009, about 14 weeks into a relationship with a co-worker that went from, “You and her need to figure out a way to work together” in May to blatant flirtation in June and physical “intimacy” in July, I finally realized this whole thing was only destined to get worse if I didn’t blow all of this up and bring it into the wide open.

I had tried to stop the relationship dozens of times before. Tried talking with her and rationalizing with her. She (also married with child) agreed. But when no one’s watching (because no one knows to watch) and the thrill of being a part of something “sexy” that’s just between you and someone else is right in front of you every day, it’s impossible to face those demons alone in the dark. And you are alone because you’ve decided to not let anyone else in.

Could I have kept it a secret forever? Maybe. I don’t know that she would have ever told her husband. He worked in the same office we did (even!). It would have been super-messy for her to bring that to the surface. So, I convinced myself that God’s grace is enough to take care of my sins. And, for a short, miserable season through August and early September 2009, I tried to convince myself that I was forgiven and, thus, free from my sinful burdens–and any real need to bring this up to anyone in my circle. God and the woman and I dealt with it. We’re good.

And this is what I learned on the night of September 5th, 2009 is called “false repentance.” Interestingly enough, I was supposed to lead my church Sunday School class through Chapter 5 of the book we were reading through the next morning on this exact topic of false repentance. The more I read, the more my heart pounded. Did God forgive me for my infidelities? He’s an amazing Father and yes He did. Did God have big things in store for me and my life and my family? Yes he did. Could we go through the rest of our lives with a secret? Yes. Would I be stealing from her? Yes. Is stealing disobedient? Yes. Does God honor disobedience? No.

So, I had a decision to make, lying next to my wife that night. My wife, who had just two weeks prior given birth to our second child. That night was among the worst of my life. Sweat poured out of me. I couldn’t get physically comfortable. I was too tired to cry and too wired to sleep. I tried to rationalize and thought of dozens of worse-case scenarios. They were all worse-case. A best-case scenario was still going to suck, bad.

Ultimately, it came down to this: I can not tell her about my adultery and go on living the rest of our lives together with a secret. Because there’s a secret inbetween us, we’ll never experience maximum-level intimacy in our marriage. In fact, that intimacy will continue to decay over time, most likely. It may rise up now and then, but it’d never rise over maybe 50%. We’d peak at a 50% intimacy level. OR, I get it all out now. Drop our current intimacy level (surely) to 0% and, at LEAST over time, have a chance at 100% with her. One hundred percent intimacy would never be possible if I didn’t share what was going on.

So I did. Early the next morning.

As expected, she was stunned and angry and indignant. I was scared, self-protective (defensive) and mostly numb to her. We’d gone through similar things like this before. I had dropped a bomb on her 18 months earlier about a couple hours once spent with a woman that turned into more than a conversation. She almost seemed to expect this might happen again. Not even two hours after I shared the news, she had packed the kids in our Highlander and taken off for her parent’s house in Michigan, just as I expected she would.

I cried as she left, but I didn’t really feel sad. Just scared of what all of this was about to mean. I knew she was gone, but was sure she’d come back and, over a lot of time and pain and truth, we’d work this out.

That never happened. And this is how a new season begins.