Fourteen Years

Tomorrow is April 29th, 2024.

Tomorrow, my ex-husband, a sexual predator, is released from prison.

14 years went far too fast.

It’s not that I’ve dwelled on April 29th;, for the longest time, I couldn’t even remember how many years he had been sentenced to serve, or how many years he had already served. I was too busy single parenting, too busy working, too busy surviving.

But now that day is here, and I do not want it to be here.

My ex-husband was a Southern Baptist Youth minister, accused and guilty of horrific crimes. Our lives and our church family were shattered years ago, at the news of his arrest. We did not know how we would get to the other side.

I did not know what to do. Where to go. How to put the pieces back together again.

But God, in his infinite goodness, mercy and kindness pulled us into the comforting shelter of a church family and community who wrapped their arms around us and walked beside us….day, after day, after day.

If you are interested in hearing more about our story, which is truly a story of grace and mercy, you can listen to a podcast hosted by our current senior pastor, who invited me to onto the podcast to discuss sexual abuse reform in the Southern Baptist Convention: Pilgrim’s Devotion – Episode 35: Shelly’s Story (While there, check out some of his other episodes – great content worth a listen.)

Today, it truly is well with our souls. There is much to celebrate. Beautiful weddings, the birth of grandchildren. Middle School, high school, and college graduations. So much laughter. Adventures. Joy.

But tonight, we are also reeling a bit, as we approach his release from prison.

One of my four had the very best words to describe the current situation: “It’s like he was a mystical beast locked away and we’ve not had to think about it and now that he’s being let loose in the world, forcing us to deal with it.”

The pain, anger and grief are, in some ways, more poignant today than they were 14 years ago. 14 years ago, there were decisions to make. Everything was urgent. Every day brought new horrors in those early weeks. There was job hunting, school, moving multiple times, lawyers, court dates and fear. Yes, there was anger and sadness, but there were so many other things swirling in those dark days that there was not much time to dwell in the grief. Not that we didn’t wallow in the grief, at times, but the tyranny of the urgent ruled our days. And time marched on – and a new, beautiful normal was created from the ashes. What was decimated, was redeemed in new and astounding ways. (see Joel 2:25a and 2:26-27).

Today – we are older. Or, rather, today I feel old. Tired. There is a weight on my soul tonight, that I cannot shake. Each night for the past two weeks has been wrecked by sleeplessness and nightmares.

I know – am 100% confident – that the anticipation of his release is worse than the actual event. Tomorrow will come and go. And God will remain faithful. His mercies will be new tomorrow morning when I awake – no matter what time of the night or morning it is. And his mercies will be new the next day, the next day, the next day…

And the next.

But tonight, my Mom soul aches for my crew – for the sin done against them. For the pain of being fatherless for several years, until God brought my Ken into our world. I ache for them because I know that they are also hurting tonight. I hurt for their significant others who vacillate between beautiful, protective anger and a sense of helplessness.

Tonight I grieve all the hard days and nights – the times when I had to work three jobs and they had to fend or themselves. The days when I made the wrong decisions in parenting. The times when I couldn’t be there for them, and they had to learn to be there for each other. I grieve the tennis games and music concerts and academic awards events I was unable to attend due to work.

I am also angry. Angry at the evil that sexual abuse is. Angry at how it has deeply scarred my life. And the lives of my children, directly and indirectly.

Angry. Enraged. Furious.

And sad.

Tomorrow will come and go. Tomorrow night, I will get together with my four kids – we will ‘circle the wagons’ once again, as we did 14 years ago. We will be together on this first, hard day of the mystical beast out in the world again. We will laugh, I know – because there is always laughter when we are together. We will also celebrate what God has done – how he has been our everything – our merciful God.

But we will also hurt, together. There will be hugs and “remember when’s” and reassurances.

Friends, I recognize the very rawness of these words tonight – this entry into my website that has, so often, been a saving grace to me; an outlet to process who God is and what this world is – and who I am. But even underneath the bandaid-ripped-off wound tonight, there is a profound and renewed sense of the truth of Psalm 94:17-19, pasted in below. I know these words are true, and at the same time, I am crying out to our God tonight that these words be truth, just as the Psalmist who wrote these words did so many years ago to remind himself of who God is.

My crew and I will not live in the land of silence, because God has been and continues to be our help.

His steadfast love will still and always hold us up.

And He alone consoles and cheers our downtrodden souls tonight….tomorrow…and always.

And as firmly confident as I am, in these truths for my life and for my family’s lives…I am confident they are true for you as well. If you need to a safe place to talk, or want to know more about who this God is, that restores and redeems, helps and holds, consoles and cheers, and saves – please, please feel free to reach out to me via email. I long to introduce you to my Savior.

Psalm 94

If the Lord had not been my help,
    my soul would soon have lived in the land of silence.
¹⁸ When I thought, “My foot slips,”
    your steadfast love, O Lord, held me up.
¹⁹ When the cares of my heart are many,
    your consolations cheer my soul.