We didn't talk much on the drive home from the lawyer's office.
Before we arrived, our children called and said, "Don't come home. The front of the house is crammed with reporters and camera crews. We've had to tack blankets over the windows to keep them from shining lights into the house."
As we neared the drive, we saw that the kids were right. Hordes of reporters clustered at the entrance to our driveway, so we didn't pull in. Instead, we kept going until we reached the home of our friends Adam and Julie Taylor. They quickly ushered us in and provided a safe haven from the media.
Not long after we arrived, our kids came by, one by one. A news van pursued our boys, who considered outrunning the media an adventure. Christy, however, was not amused. She was deeply concerned and protective of us.
As we waited for the news vans to leave, we moved to the Taylors' basement. From there, I called my parents and my sisters to give them the awful news. After absorbing the shock, they promised to pray for us. I promised to keep in touch about further developments.
When we finally went home, around midnight, the reporters had gone. After I cleared the kitchen counters and locked the doors, I stood in the middle of the house and realized I was exhausted and needed to go upstairs to bed—to the bed I shared with Ted.
I climbed the stairs to our room with mixed emotions. Our bedroom had been our private place, the room devoted to marital intimacy, but now it felt like an empty mockery.
How could I sleep with the man who'd been unfaithful to me? Ted had taken something that was mine alone—the right to physically enjoy his body—and shared it with a so-called escort. A male escort.
I quickly closed the lid on those thoughts; I wasn't ready to consider all the implications. Instead, I slipped into the bathroom to brush my teeth. As I ran the water over my toothbrush, I couldn't avoid my reflection in the mirror. My face looked worn, my eyes empty. All traces of my mascara were long gone, wept away in a flood of tears.
I bent over the sink and rinsed my mouth, then froze as a rogue thought slammed into my mind. What if this man in Denver has AIDS? What if Ted has picked up some other sexually transmitted disease and infected me? How could I face our family doctor and explain that I needed to be tested for AIDS, syphilis, gonorrhea, and whatever other venereal diseases were making the rounds?
The thought made me sick to my stomach.
Ted had already climbed into bed by the time I came out of the bathroom. I slid between the sheets and let my head fall to the pillow.
And then I felt Ted reach for me.
My heart broke in that instant. I knew the importance of physical touch in a marriage. I knew its power to bring comfort, healing, and validation. And I knew the damage rejection could cause. Broken people need to be touched, and by reaching out, Ted was pleading for my help. I wanted to help him; I didn't want to reject him???but what was I supposed to do with the anger, revulsion, and pain that were warring in my heart?
I had coached other women through this. Now it was my turn. I would have to press through my feelings and not lose this important opportunity, because it might not come again.
And so that night I began my journey of choosing . . . choosing to love. I chose to press through my feelings of anger. I pressed through my feelings of revulsion and took the hand I had held so many times, the hand that had brought me such comfort in the past. And in that moment, I realized how much I still loved my husband.
I turned and slid into his arms, but a fresh wave of sorrow overwhelmed me. I sobbed so loudly that I was sure the children could hear me. Waves of anger and sadness swept through me, and within seconds I felt Ted's shuddering sobs as well. I didn't stop to comfort him; I let my tears flow. I needed to cry, because I was terrified. I didn't know what Ted's confession meant, and I didn't know what I was going to discover about him now that he'd opened the door to the sealed-off place in his life. I didn't know what the impact of any of this was going to be on our future or our children. I was afraid of losing everything we loved at the church. I knew Ted had lost his position, but what would that look like? How would we relate to the people of New Life now?
And what effect would Ted's sin have on the body of Christ at large? So many Christian brothers and sisters were scattered throughout the world; how many would be mocked and scorned because of Ted's sin?
As the storm raged all around us, Ted and I clung to what little we had. We drew nearer, each of us sobbing out our sorrow while we held each other tight. Somehow, I felt closer than ever to Ted; and even in my pain, I found comfort in the strength of his arms around me.
I don't know how long we clung to each other and wept. Eventually, wrapped in a heavy blanket of grief and exhaustion, Ted rolled over and went to sleep, but I remained awake. Finally I could sort through my thoughts without worrying about what others might read on my face.
Though I was shocked, heartbroken, and afraid, I felt as though I had spent my entire life training for that moment. I thought about my faith in God and my belief in the Bible. I considered my convictions about marriage and family, friendship, and the body of Christ???concepts I had taught to the women of our church. I remembered how I had learned to stretch in order to love Jonathan more.
I realized that everything I believed was being tested. Now I had to determine whether I had the strength to pass the test. Everything I valued was at stake???my marriage, my children, my church, and my understanding of God.
In those quiet moments, I decided to rise to the challenge. I was going to demonstrate my love by fighting for the dignity and honor of everyone and everything I held dear.
I had no idea how the battle would take shape; I had no idea how the opposition would present itself; but that night I settled the question within my own mind: My faith and the people I loved were worth fighting for. So fight I would, no matter how difficult the battle.