The hotel room reeled as I hung up the call, stunned and in tears. The intensity of the week spent in class working toward my master’s degree seemed to pale in comparison to this news. My husband of thirty-two years had decided, in my week’s absence, that our marriage was over. He had already moved out. Everything was a blur as I headed home. Questions came one after another. Where was God in all this? How could I ever be divorced? Hadn’t I done everything I possibly could to save my marriage? What would I do alone? How would I manage financially? Emotionally?
I was overwhelmed with sadness and confusion. I had been a “good wife” for years. I tried to keep my husband happy and not rock the...
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