The Storm
In 1996, my husband told me he was leaving our marriage to pursue a same-sex relationship.
In a moment, the life we had built, the future I had imagined, and even the faith I thought I understood were shaken.
I was angry. Confused. Terrified. And desperately alone.
We had been deeply involved in church leadership, even pastoring a small congregation, and I struggled with questions I never imagined I would have to ask.
Why was this happening? What would happen to our children? Where was God in all of this?
I didn't know it then, but the storm that seemed to be destroying my life would eventually become the beginning of a healing journey I never expected.
The Lifeline
I remember lying on the floor of my den, desperate for answers, crying out to God:
“Lord, if You send someone, I will listen.”
Just days later, a friend called to tell me about a support group for families like ours. I went—not knowing what to expect and honestly questioning whether these people could possibly understand what I was going through.
But as I listened to their stories, their struggles and their healing, something inside me began to change.
For the first time, I realized I wasn't alone.
That night changed the trajectory of my life and put me on a path toward the inner healing I so desperately needed.
The Healing
Healing didn't happen overnight. And it didn't mean pretending the pain wasn't real.
I had to learn to face the wounds I carried, ask hard questions, seek understanding, forgive, allow God into places in my heart I would rather have kept hidden.
Along the way, I discovered that understanding brings grace, and grace makes forgiveness possible. Forgiveness didn't excuse what had happened to me, nor did it mean I had to remain in an unhealthy situation. It meant I could begin releasing the pain that had held me captive.
I also learned that healing isn't something you simply complete and leave behind. It's a journey. There were times when old wounds surfaced again and I realized there was still deeper work to do.
But little by little, the pain stopped defining my life.
The longer I walked the healing journey, the more the rewards began to outweigh the work.
And today I can tell you from experience:
Healing is worth the work.
The Calling
What began as my desperate search for answers eventually became something I never expected—a calling.
Over the years, God gave me opportunities to walk alongside people carrying emotional wounds, family struggles and spiritual questions. But my heart has always been especially drawn to those affected by the silent wound of same-sex betrayal.
Because I know that pain.
I know what it feels like when the life you thought you were going to live suddenly changes. I know the questions, the confusion, the grief and even the struggle to understand where God is in the middle of it all.
But I also know what can happen on the other side.
I know the freedom that comes through understanding and forgiveness. I know that faith can be restored. And I know that the wound that once seemed capable of defining the rest of your life doesn't have to.
For years, I wished I had been able to find someone who could simply say, “I understand. I've walked this road too.”
That's why I wrote The Silent Wound.
This book is the companion I wish I had all those years ago.
And if my story can help someone else feel a little less alone, find understanding in the middle of the confusion, and begin taking their own steps toward healing, then perhaps something beautiful can come from a storm I never would have chosen.