Dating Frank, I got a glimpse into a world many didn't see - the Pastor and his daily home life.  The Smiths were the first Christian family I had been close to, so I was intrigued by them. 

Mrs. Smith took pride in extravagant Sunday meals and would eat in community with other church families.  She worked hard to prepare a feast and to listen to people who sat at her table. Prayers before meals and talk of heartache, dreams and passions would follow. More often than not, the buzzing of the telephone would put the vulnerability on hold.

This isn’t just a story about throwing an ex boyfriend under the bus. It’s a love story of deception, Christ, church wounds and other hot messes. It’s my story about how God transformed my pain so I didn’t become a bitter old lady filled with a house of smelly cats.

This has been something I've wanted to share for months now. With my best friends, husband and through prayer, I've spent time processing through if I should actually write this. The ramifications of posting this topic or staying silent are outweighed  by the freedom that God can bring through sharing my story.

The goal of this blog series is to motivate people to find redemption in Christ and to believe in the local church again.