I Love Being Married To An Imperfect Man

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By Lana Moline

I love being married to an imperfect man.  He’s not very talkative and sometimes falls asleep in the middle of good movie but, truth is, I absolutely adore him.  His imperfection challenges me to look beyond the surface to find other solutions to life. I am more creative, quicker and extremely resourceful.  I don’t know that I would have reached my level had it not been for his imperfection.  I don’t know that I would be as strong had I not cried a few times and had him wipe the tears away.  I can’t say that I would strive as diligently as I do to carve out the authentic me, the one who needs to make a positive impact in this world somehow.  The imperfect man who loves the imperfect me is my dichotomy of love and the older I get the more I realize how important that love is and how much I crave it.

With love, just like life, I want all that is due.   I want the multiplicity of love.  I want the heart racing, anticipation of “when can I see you again?”  When can I hold you again?  When can I kiss you again?  My heartbeats are dull when you are gone.  My breaths are shallow and my outlook is somewhere between dreary and bleak.  I figure if I were married to a perfect man, there would be nothing to aspire to, nothing to improve upon, little still to achieve.  I am imperfect too and my imperfection needs balance and an equally flawed shoulder to cry on in this big, imperfect world and maybe together, somehow, we can define what perfection really means.

Lana Moline is a freelance writer and poet who lives in Fort Worth with her husband and three kids. She has been married 11 years and understands that marriage truly is a journey that is sometimes complicated by our own thoughts, perceptions and feelings. Visit her at her blog LanaSuccess4Kids.wordpress.com

My Gay Ex-Husband

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By Carol Shwanda

Remember when the governor of New Jersey announced he was gay?  I sure do. I remember smiling ruefully to myself when I  heard people talking about the scandal and  asking, “How could his wife not know? Can you imagine being married to someone and not knowing he’s gay?” Yep, I can because it happened to me. I don’t mind telling people about this because I somehow feel it gives me a free pass for a failed marriage. There was no “we just grew apart” or ”we wanted different things” excuses. Nope. I married a gay guy. Not my fault. Except when you consider that I was, how should I say this?, STUPID enough to marry a gay guy in the first place. By way of explanation, let me just say this. My ex, whom I will refer to as Jared, was more the Rock Hudson type of gay rather than the Liberace sort. It wasn’t like he was into decorating or Broadway show tunes. He did like ballet, though, maybe that should have been a  clue. These days when he comes over to the house to pick up the girls wearing Bermuda shorts and socks and sandals, I look at him and say to myself, “You are sooo gay. How did I miss that?” Back when he was still in the closet he played the part of the straight, ex-highschool football hero pretty convincingly and I and everyone else was fooled.  And to answer the most often unasked question, yes, we did have sex.  No problems there, so you can see, I really had no  idea.

Jared and I met in 1987 at a Christmas party my roommate and I were throwing at our apartment.  He was her guest. They worked together. He seemed like a nice, genuine guy who wore T-shirts and jeans and watched sports. At the time I had been having a lot of short-term romances with playboy types who strung me along with promises of trips to Jamaica and then dumped me with no notice. My current beau fit the profile, but hadn’t arrived yet, so Jared and I struck up a conversation about just exactly how did the guy who played Latke on Taxi die, (we learned we were both obscure trivia buffs) when my date showed up and whisked me away. Two weeks later the lothario stopped calling and I swore off dating forever. I was 26 and decided that marriage and children were just not going to happen for me. Little did I know. I concentrated on my career as a rising fashion industry star and embraced 80’s VCR technology.

Sometime around spring I decided it was time to venture out into the dating world again. I informed my roommate, who responded excitedly that Jared was still available, had just gotten his own apartment and really liked me. I was making chocolate chip cookies at the time and gave her some to give to him at work. A few days later he called and we went out on date. I liked him a lot, thought he was really nice, but did not get those nervous butterflies in my stomach, which I reasoned at the time was a good thing. It was the butterflies that had gotten me into so much  trouble in the past. I didn’t feel that instant chemistry, but decided to wait it out until I did because I knew Jared was a nice, decent guy. A mensch, not a chump and all my friends liked him. After a month of dating I really fell for him and thought, “This is what love is supposed to feel like — calm. Not insecure or nerve wracking.” After 9 months of dating, we got engaged (at the ballet)  and 9 months after that we were married. The first two years we lived the  ’80’s yuppie, pre-kids lifestyle. We indulged our hobbies of dining out, browsing bookstores and going to movies.

In November of  ’92 Jared got recruited by a high tech company in California and we were moved from the East coast to the West to start a new life. At the same time I got pregnant with Sophia. There were a lot of changes in our lives and the accompanying stress that goes with them. Jared became a work-a-holic  which was kind of typical of the high tech boom in the early ’90’s. Something wasn’t right in my marriage, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I shrugged it off to the hectic life with small children. When Eva was born in ‘96 I quit my job to stay home, which only made Jared spend more time at work. Because I was now with the kids full time, I looked to him more to give me breaks with the girls. Instead, he worked 6 days a week and slept ’til noon on Sundays. We never did anything as a family. Forget vacations. I would have settled for help with the laundry. With our family all on the East Coast I spent a lot of time alone. I look back on those years and I don’t know how I survived. As a kid my dad was never an active participant in our family and I regretted that. I began to see the affects Jared’s absence had on the girls and it made me very sad. One year on Jared’s birthday, Sophia sat on the front porch with his gift on her lap and he never came home.

Why did I put up with this for so long? I was afraid of the alternative. Being the eternal optimist that I am, I looked on the bright side. I enjoyed my children and was grateful that I could afford to stay home and spend so much time with them. I looked for diversions and decided I needed a bigger house with a large yard so we could have a dog. We bought a minivan. I don’t know why Jared agreed to it because he told me later the trappings of a middle class lifestyle put him over the edge. A bigger house, a bigger mortgage. He was screaming inside. He felt imprisoned in a marriage he should never have been in and  became more and more distraught and desperate. He coped by working, his only escape.

Shortly after our move to the new house, Jared and I were barely speaking. He left for work before the girls got up for school and came home after they were in bed. He refused the warmed dinners I saved for him saying he had already eaten at the office. I knew something was seriously wrong with him and kept prodding him for explanations and answers. He would push me away and tell me I was imagining things and to leave him alone. Around the same time Sophia was diagnosed with a learning disability and needed a lot of my attention. I was exhausted all the time and did not know what to do about my marriage so I did nothing. I think I went months without even looking in Jared’s direction, until one day I saw him get out of the shower and was shocked to see that he was dangerously thin. Jared was always a slender guy with a small build. Six feet tall he usually weighed around 155 lbs. I could see the bones sticking out of his ribcage. I exclaimed, “Oh my God, you are so thin! What is wrong with you?” and demanded he get on the scale and he did. He weighed 128 lbs.  He admitted to me that he thought he was anorexic, but he wouldn’t explain why. I told him he needed to get counseling and he agreed and even ate some breakfast.

I was encouraged by his admission, yet very troubled. After he left for work I got on the Internet to research anorexia in men and found an article that offered two explanations. The first one I immediately discounted and scoffed at. Anorexia in men is caused by the suppression of latent homosexual tendencies. Ridiculous. My husband is not gay. I read on. The second reason seemed more likely. Repressed memories and hostilities as a result of an authoritarian father. That had to be it. Of course, growing up in the sixties, who didn’t have an authoritarian father? Armed with my new knowledge, I decided to approach Jared that evening. Instead we had a big fight about something and he went to bed. I stayed up stewing and watching stupid TV shows. Something told me I had to confront him. I had to know. I went into the bedroom, sat on his  side of the bed and woke him up. I told him, “Jared, I am your wife. You have to tell me what is bothering you. I don’t care what it is. This is eating us both up. Tell me. I have to know.”

At first he said nothing. Tears started to stream down his face and his body was shuddering and rocking slightly. Softly, he started repeating these words over and over again. “I just want to be happy. I just want to be happy. I just want to be happy.” It was at that moment that it hit me like a ton of bricks. I remembered what I read on the Internet. He’s gay. So I asked him, “Jared, are you gay?” (He told me later he could not believe I had guessed.) As if the words were coming from the bowels of his being, for the first time in his life he admitted to someone, me, his wife,  that he was gay. It was as if he were speaking in slow motion and under water. “Would you hate me if I told you that  I think I am bisexual?” I was so relieved to finally know that I wept too. “No, I don’t hate you, I love you.” I assured him. I promised to help him and to stick by him. I knew that night my marriage was over, but I could not admit it to myself. The girls were little, I hadn’t worked in years and he was a basket case. I threw myself into my plan to get him well. I started the next day stuffing him with high calorie smoothies and calling around for referrals for therapists. Jared told me later that if I had not come in and forced the truth out of him he would most likely have killed himself the next day. That was his plan. I know now that he was having a nervous breakdown.

For the next two years we clung to the hope that somehow we could make our marriage work. Jared considered himself bi-sexual, and by marrying me he was simply making a choice. During the first two years of our marriage he was fine with his decision. It was when I got pregnant with Sophia that he started to feel confined and panicked. Once everything was out in the open and we both sought counseling, we explored all of the thoughts, issues, conflicts and struggles he was feeling. I read books, searched the Internet and consulted experts in the field. One of the most significant things I learned, and probably the greatest source of confusion and controversy regarding human sexuality, is that some people, not all, but some,  have varying levels of homosexuality and/or heterosexuality in their makeup. While some people, like myself, have no doubts about their sexual orientation. I have always known that I am straight. Likewise, there are gay people who have similar certainties  of  their homosexual orientation. However, there are those, like Jared, who are not so sure and are unfortunately  therefore so conflicted. This uncertainty coupled with the social construct opposing homosexuality is what closets so many people.

After two years of feeling like I was walking on eggshells, always watching Jared to make sure he was OK, of meeting his needs and not my own, I decided I needed more. I needed to be either with a man who wanted to be with me or to be alone. It was a difficult decision and one that was long overdue. The tipping point  came at one of our final visits to see our marriage counselor. The counselor suggested that we settle on some kind of “arrangement” , in which we would agree to time apart and I would simply look the other way while Jared went off on some gay Club Med trip. This apparently works for some people. Not for me. With tears streaming down my face I made a vow to myself that I deserved better and I would find it.

After twelve years of marriage, two children and a relocation across the country, Jared and I ended  our marriage, but not our family. I was determined to keep my dignity and composure and to have a positive divorce. We told the kids in February of 2002. It was Black history month and the girls were learning about segregation in school. I used that backdrop to make the comparison of discrimination against gay people. I explained to the girls that Daddy was gay. Because we live in a very liberal community where there are lots of gay couples, the girls knew that some people of the same sex are happier being together. However, not everyone is accepting of gay people which is why their father kept his feelings a secret for so long.  I told them that because we love Daddy we want him to be happy and we have to let him find what is going to make him happy. At first they were worried they would not get to see their father very often. They both have friends whose parents were divorced and the dads had moved out of the area. I assured them they could see their father whenever they wanted to and they do. Although the children live primarily with me they see their father every day when he takes them to school.

About six months after Jared moved out, he met Keith, his life partner to whom he is now married. Shortly after, it was Jared’s birthday. I suggested to Jared that he invite Keith to our house for dinner. I did this for the girls to show an act of solidarity and to give my approval. I wanted the girls to know that is was OK to welcome Keith into their lives. I never wanted them to feel like they had to choose sides or feel guilty about liking him. I also didn’t want them to worry about me.

The morning of his birthday, Jared met the girls and me at our country club to go swimming. As I watched Jared rough house with the girls in the pool, tossing them in the air and playing Marco Polo, I realized I had never seen him so happy. During our marriage, when I could get him to come with us to the pool, he often sat on the sidelines reading a book, retreating into himself. When I saw how delighted the girls were with his attention, I knew that I made the right decision. I sacrificed my marriage, so that my children could have a father.

Later, Keith arrived at the house with gifts in hand for me and the girls. While I got dinner started, Keith and Jared played hopscotch and jumprope  outside with the girls. Later, Jared wrote me a lovely thank you email telling me how much he appreciated my generosity and that it was the best birthday he ever had.

Was I always so amicable and giving? No. There were several times I felt such incredible anger and resentment toward Jared that I could have clocked him. I spend many mornings sobbing in the shower. Jared, because of his guilt I guess, put up with a lot of my tirades and sarcastic barbs until one day he asked me point blank, “How long are you going to punish me? I’ll give you twenty years and then after that the statute of limitations runs out and you have to forgive me.” He  sounded like he was joking, but I knew he was serious. I realized at that moment that I was only hurting myself and if the girls sensed my feelings, they would suffer too.  I decided from that point on to take stock of my life and acknowledge what was  good. I had two wonderful daughters, a beautiful home (which I got to keep in the divorce settlement), I lived in a beautiful place and I had the talent, intelligence and perseverance to start over.

Why did Jared  marry me you wonder? I asked him the same question. His answer, besides the fact that he loved me, was that he wanted a family and a conventional lifestyle. When we separated he did right by me and the kids. He gave me the house, paid very generous child and spousal support so I could continue to stay home with  the girls while I figured  out what I wanted to do since I hadn’t worked in a while.   At the time of our divorce, an acquaintance of mine from my kids’ school was also getting a divorce. Her husband left her for another woman and moved to Brazil, but only after he drained their bank accounts. Since he was self-employed he was able to hide his assets and income. She, like me, had been a stay-at-home mom with three kids. Her car was repossessed and her landlord evicted her for non-payment of rent. She was forced to go on public assistance. Now I ask you, which man, my ex-husband or hers, had better family values?

Although I have no regrets about marrying Jared, I know that if he had felt the freedom to live as an openly gay person, who had the rights to marry and have children, we would never have gotten married. This brings me to the topic of same sex marriage and the general acceptance of homosexuality. We, as compassionate and reasonable people have to dispel this notion that it is wrong to be gay, that homosexuality is a disease that has to be cured or prevented. It is not. It just is. Accept it. By doing so you would save others from experiencing the pain and unhappiness we have had to endure as the result of society’s discrimination against homosexuality.

To read more about Carol Shwanda’s life as a newly remarried mom with two kids and three step kids, check out her blended family blog at: www.shwanda.com

Marriage 101: What To Do When You’re Weary Of Going To Church Alone…

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By Cindi McMenamin

Do you know what it’s like to sit in church, week after week, and feel lonely?

For years, Debe longed to have Randy worshiping alongside her. She was tired of sitting in church alone, singing songs of praise alone, taking notes on the pastor’s sermon alone. Her heart ached for her husband to experience what she did through the music and the message at church.

Because her heart was focused on her husband’s need to be there, Debe remembers filtering every sermon through her husband’s life. Randy needs to hear that, she would think. Or, This verse is for Randy.

After several years of worshiping alone, Debe became discouraged – and sometimes even depressed – that her husband was not joining her in the most important quest in her life, and she was not growing because of it. She finally decided it was time to leave the marriage so she could find someone who would share her heart, worship alongside her, and encourage her in her walk with God. But Debe’s pastor talked her out of it. He encouraged her to start focusing on her growth with the Lord, not her husband’s. As Debe began to do that, she discovered that there was a whole new side of God she never really knew before.

Worshiping alone then took on a whole new dimension, Debe said. “The intimacy of my worship began to increase as I looked to God – and not Randy’s presence beside me – to fill the longings of my heart. It became more one-on-one with Jesus and me. My spiritual and even emotional needs were being met during those times.”

The day Debe realized that worship was not about who was – or wasn’t – sitting next to her was the day she really learned to worship. And she also came to realize that being alone in worship could be a wonderful thing!

Embrace the Alone Times

There are powerful stories in the Bible about women who were alone in worship. One of them was Hannah, the mother of Samuel. She knew well what it meant to worship alone, pray alone, and carry burdens on her heart alone. She desperately wanted a child more than anything else on earth. And one day she bitterly poured out her heart to God about it. She told Him of her longings, her sadness at seeing all the other women around her with children, her frustration that she couldn’t give her husband a child, and her sorrow at being the brunt of jokes from her husband’s other wife. She prayed, cried, and told God that if He would give her a child, she would give him back to the Lord for service in the temple all his life.

This woman laid it on the line with God, and she did it alone. Her husband, Elkanah, must have been in another part of the temple worshiping and offering his sacrifices. But Elkanah didn’t need to be with Hannah. God met Hannah there as she prayed and worshiped alone. And He gave her that child she prayed for.

After weaning her son, Hannah again went to the temple, but this time she went to praise God for His gift to her and to leave her son with the priest. And she appeared to do that alone, as well. Do you ever wonder why she didn’t ask her husband, Elkanah, to pray with her for her child? Do you find it odd that it’s a mother’s prayer and song of praise that is recorded in First Samuel 2 and not one that is shared by the father, too?

I tend to think that Hannah had such a deeply personal experience with God when she begged for a child that she wanted to be alone when she went back to God again. In her earlier visit to the temple, she had some “pouring out” to do and she did it alone. Later, after being given a child, she had some praising to do, and apparently she wanted to do that alone. It was personal -between her and God. And it didn’t matter to her, apparently, whether or not a man or someone else was beside her.

My friend, Sara, can relate. “Prayer is such a deeply personal thing between me and God, and I treasure those times alone with Him. My husband does pray with me, when I ask him to, but why would I want anyone else in the room with me when I’m pouring my heart out to God?”

God had to show me – a pastor’s wife who many times feels alone in worship because my husband is in the pulpit ministering, rather than being alongside me – that praying to Him, and worshipping Him should always be a priority, no matter what the situation, and no matter who comes along.

Make It Personal

I was encouraged recently – while looking through the Bible’s “song book” – that more than half of the Psalms were written from a personal perspective, recounting a personal experience with God. Only about 25 songs referred to corporate worship, using the terms “us” and “we.” This seems to indicate that much of worship takes place as a personal encounter with God. While we are not to forsake assembling together with other believers for corporate worship (Hebrews 10:25), we can’t live off of church worship services as our extent of worshiping God. And we can’t depend on someone else being there beside us for it to be meaningful. Worship must flow from our personal lives, and much of that flow will happen when we are alone.

When Debe switched her focus from who was sitting next to her and onto who was above her, worship became a much more fulfilling experience – to the point that God’s presence alone was what she longed for.

I know you’d prefer someone beside you as you worship, dear friend. But as long as you and I keep our gaze heavenward, we won’t feel as if we’re worshiping alone.

Cindi McMenamin is a national speaker and the author of several books, including When Women Walk Alone, When God Pursues a Woman’s Heart, and Women On the Edge. For more on her books or ministry, see www.StrengthForTheSoul.com

Are We Ruining Our Women?

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By Ilex Bien-Aime

I hear men complaining about damaged women all of the time. If you were to listen to most men, you would believe that we are always the correct and sane sex, while women  are crazy and always wrong. Too bad life is never really that black and white. Long before the book “Men Are from Mars, Women are from Venus” was written, men and women knew that we could not have come from the same planet. In all honesty men and women really don’t see eye to eye on most subjects. At the same time though, we see and know more than we  let on that we see and know.

I’ve written before that “Men are Vultures” because like the bird, we like to attack what we consider to be weaker prey. Men love opportunity and we will pounce on you when you are at your weakest point. Unless a man has been hiding under a rock all of his life, he generally knows the biggest weaknesses of women. Like a trained boxer, if he sees a cut under your eye, he will keep punching at it so that he can exploit it. This is why I can’t defend men completely when women attack us for our misdeeds.

Back in the day men used to lie to women in order to get what they wanted. Over time we realized that there was no need to lie. We can now tell you the truth and still get the same results but without the negative names and labels that women used to apply to our deceit. At some point most women have heard “I am not looking for a serious relationship”. If you haven’t heard it, trust me you will. That is the famous clause that both men and women use however the “male lawyer mind” has perfected it.

Telling a woman that we are not looking for a serious relationship is our way of saying, just in case something goes wrong with this little “agreement” we have, you don’t have grounds to disrespect me or be upset because I told you so from the beginning. If you look back at my article, “Your Weaknesses Used Against You,” you will see I have written that men know exactly what we are doing when we tell you we are not looking for anything serious. We know that women tend to say that they are cool with this arrangement at first but the law of averages will tell you, that most women cannot handle It. The man thinks that because we can say “I told you so,” we are somehow exonerated.

Men, like women, love to be in relationships. The difference between the sexes is that at some point women tend to want one man and men tend to want many women with that main woman leading the pack. Men want the benefits of being in a relationship but do not want the responsibility of the relationship. So he is willing to take you out, come over  your house to watch “Love Jones,” and in many cases spend quality time with you doing whatever. He will unofficially be your man but trust me, he officially still believes that he is not your man.

Deep down fellas, we are ruining our women because we use what we know are their weaknesses against them, for our own selfish gain. If you know that women think a certain way and you still choose to do certain things, you should hold yourself accountable for your dishonesty. You are purposely riding this gravy train and in many cases are purposely being misleading. You really don’t care that she will be hurt in this, all you care about is getting what you can get for as long as you can get it.

I understand that this is frustrating for both sides. On one hand we are telling women the truth. One the other hand women claim to understand and maybe even believe that they can survive the “just friends” category, yet both sides are GUILTY! Men are guilty because we know the results of this game before we start to play and women are guilty for deciding to play and then screaming foul once the game gets heated.
For my future daughters, I hope that men will change and learn to be more responsible. At the same time, if men never change I write this so that my future daughters and other women will decide not to get caught up in this foolish game.

My name is Ilex Bien-Aime and I live in Washington, DC with my lovely wife. I write as a man who has seen women mistreat themselves and who have allowed themselves to be mistreated. I write as a man who wants to give my future daughters a guideline on how to deal with men. Lastly I write what I write because my female friends are always asking my opinion about these situations.  Connect with Ilex at Iamsayingit.blogspot.com or via email at ilexbienaime@gmail.com

I Was Frustrated, Disappointed, And Mad As Hell…BUT…What A Difference A Year Makes (Part 2)

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By Neysa Ellery Taylor

Yesterday, I wrote about the day my husband’s sons were born. I wrote about the range of emotions that I felt and how ill prepared I was to handle those emotions. Today, I am writing about 365 days later. Today is the boys’ birthday. Who would have thought that I would be ordering cake for little ones that I now call my sons? But today that’s where I am.

I wish I can say the past year has been an amazingly glorious time of reconciliation and growth. While that statement is true, I have to note that for each step we’ve taken forward, there have also been some pretty big potholes that we’ve had to overcome.

Like the fiscal aspect. It goes without saying that kids are expensive. When you are pregnant, you get a baby shower with cake, games, and gifts. These gifts help offset the huge financial hit of having a baby. Well, imagine having TWO babies, years after you’ve given away all of your oldest kids’ baby stuff without a shower. From formula to diapers to clothes to cribs, it’s been a tough fiscal year.

Then there is the legal hassle. Call me crazy but I thought that since there are 365 days in a year, one parent would get 182 and the other would get 183. In this age of all sorts of blended families this should be easy, right? Ummm, not so much. This has been a painfully slow, nerve racking process that still isn’t over.

An unexpected problem has been the interference from family. We’ve had the oddest people to totally overstep their boundaries and basically act a fool. For the first few months of the twins’ lives, they were not allowed to come to our home. Because of that my husband and I had one rule – no extended family should meet the boys until the immediate family meets the boys. Not because we were hiding anything. Not because we were ashamed of anything. But we as a family unit had to come to terms with this first. We were the ones who were going to be here day in and day out. And we deserved a few moments to define ourselves and unify before we had to deal with anyone else. That went out the window when family – family that we thought would be rallying around us – decided to ignore our wishes. And not just once but repeatedly. So some family have been dropped from our “family circle.” If you can’t respect my husband as head of our household, and abide by the rules we set for all of our children, then you can no longer darken my door. Harsh? Maybe. But I can not concerned about what extended family thinks when I am fighting for the survival of our family unit.

The question I get asked most often is “how do you and the other woman interact?” I guess in this age of Basketball Wives people expect me to continue the drama. And why write if you aren’t going to keep it honest? While I wish I could say that I’ve been all Joyce Meyer-ish, I’ve gone “Real Housewives” more than a few times. For the longest time I wanted an apology. I wanted her to look me in my face and admit her wrongdoing in the situation. I wanted her to look past her wants and think about the kids and what’s best for them. But alas, we aren’t there. And honestly we may never be there. I may never like her – ever. But I do have to respect her as a parent and eventually forgive her – not for her sake but for my own. But for now, we rarely cross paths. It’s better that we keep it real church-like. You know “let the Lord watch ‘tween us whilst we are apart.” And that is a good first step.

And finally, I’ve embraced my title as mom-mom. Is it made up? Yep. But it’s mine. In the past year I’ve learned that I can love God enough to trust him. I’ve learned that people really can change. I’ve seen my daughters show such compassion and care for their brothers. I’ve learned that forgiveness is real. And I’ve learned that in just 1 year – just 365 days – that my life can be fuller than I ever imagined. I get to live Jeremiah 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Read Part 1 HERE

BLAM Fam: Neysa’s story epitomizes the essence of our company tag line: “Stop Playing. Start Pushing.” For those of you that are going through similar situations or much less….Are you being intentional in your healing and/or growing process?

“Any fool can criticize, condemn, and complain but it takes character and self control to be understanding and forgiving.” ~ Dale Carnegie


“Don’t dwell on what went wrong. Instead, focus on what to do next. Spend your energies on moving forward toward finding the answer.” ~ Denis Waitley

Neysa Ellery Taylor lives in Nashville, Tennessee with her husband, Chris, and their 4 children – Asyen, Maya, Preston, and Patrick. An Emmy-Award winning journalist, she hopes to share her passion for marriage and God through her writing. You can read more of her work at www.myriadthatisme.blogspot.com.

I Was Frustrated, Disappointed, And Mad As Hell…BUT…What A Difference A Year Makes (Part 1)

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By Neysa Ellery Taylor

A year ago, the phone rang and I received  phone call that I knew was coming but that I dreaded nonetheless.  My husband called to tell me that his mistress was in labor.  Of course, I knew this day would come.  I mean I’m not slow.  I knew that she was pregnant with twins and that unless she was hit by a bus, chances were she would deliver one day.  But as much as I understood that logically.  I did not understand that emotionally.  But lo and behold, the phone rang.  And with the words, “she’s going to the hospital”   I knew that my life was changing although I didn’t know if it was for the better or the worse.

I thought I was ready for this day.  I thought I had prepared.  Our marriage had reconciled and while it had bumpy moments, we were slowly but steadily moving forward.  We had a nursery ready to welcome them to our home.  But I wasn’t ready.  In my mind, the plan went like this.  She’d have kids at the hospital.  After they arrived, we would travel to go see the babies in the nursery.  We would immediately start paperwork for paternity and visitation.  And life would continue.  That was my plan.  But in reality it went something like this.  My husband went to the hospital.  I stayed home with our daughters and almost drove myself crazy.  Big things were happening.  Life changing things were happening.  Things that directly affected my life were happening and I could do nothing about it.  That drove me crazy!  I am a do-er.  I plan, I execute, I do.  Inaction is never an option for me.  But in this instance there was nothing useful that I could do.  So I cleaned my house.  I hung with my daughters.  And then I washed all of the baby clothes that friends had given me.

I washed and gingerly folded clothes that for a child that didn’t come from me.  With each tiny little hanger that I placed in the closet, I wondered what was going on at the hospital?  Would my marriage make it through this situation?  Would my daughters see this as a form of weakness or a lesson in faith?  Would my husband be able commit to being faithful?  How would I feel about the babies?  How would my children feel?  Will my family ever accept the situation?  Am I ready to be a parent to babies again?  Will this woman ever understand the enormity of what she’s done?  Does she finally get it?  Will she use the children as pawns?  I asked this and a million other questions.

Throughout the night my husband would call me with updates.  I wish that I could say that I handled it well.  I wish that I prayed and said loving words of encouragement and understanding.  I wish I could say that.  But instead I’m going to tell the truth.  I cussed him up one side and down another.  After dealing with the affair, after learning of the impending births, after preparing the nursery, we hadn’t emotionally and spiritually prepared for this moment.  And all the hurt that I thought I was past and over, came flooding back in that moment because I knew what it was like to have his child.  I knew how special that moment was.  I knew that in the moment where your child is brought into the world you look at them and want them to have every advantage under the sun.  You want their lives to be free from hardships, especially hardships that you helped to create.  And for the first time, when my husband felt the emotions of holding a child for the first time I wouldn’t be there to share in that moment.

The moment he shared with me was later when he sent me pictures of his sons.    As I looked at the images I searched for signs of him in their faces.  I asked all the required questions, “what are their names?  How big are they?  Are they healthy?”  I had no emotional connection to them.  That wouldn’t come until much later.   But I had hope  – hope that the storms we had already weathered had made us strong enough to weather this tsunami.  And I had faith – faith that all the painful lessons that I learned weren’t in vain.  Faith that however this story ended that God would see me through.

*Check out Part 2 tomorrow to see the miracle that can happen when you allow yourself to go through the process.*

Neysa Ellery Taylor lives in Nashville, Tennessee with her husband, Chris, and their 4 children – Asyen, Maya, Preston, and Patrick. An Emmy-Award winning journalist, she hopes to share her passion for marriage and God through her writing. You can read more of her work at www.myriadthatisme.blogspot.com.

Taught To Focus On Sex INSTEAD OF Being Taught To Focus On Love

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By Ilex Bien-Aime

For as far back as I can remember, sex has been on my mind. It seems as if the thought of sex dates back to elementary school. In a time when we are supposed to be our most innocent, my friends and I started to discover something that was too advanced for us to comprehend. Many little boys grow up in a house where uncles, fathers, and brothers inevitably have a porn stash.

I was talking with my wife the other day about the differences between little girls and little boys. A little girl plays with Barbie and Ken with a sense of innocence. She may have them walk together holding hands and will occasionally make them smooch but little boys are conditioned differently. Little boys will try to make the dolls hump each other while trying to replay the scene from a dirty movie. Long before he has had sex, the young boy has already developed a view of what sex is.

Think of the porn that men generally hide. Maybe back in the day it was Playboy, but trust me Playboy is like watching a sex scene on NBC compared to other magazines and media. Not to be crass but little boys are exposed to women with their legs wide open, penetration, and oral stimulation. In a time in which we should be learning about the Declaration of Independence and long division, we are learning about sex in the most unhealthy of ways.

Now times have changed and I saw the beginning of that change while I was growing up in South Florida. 2 Live Crew used to play on the radio. Guys would drive around in their cars with loud speakers blasting “Shake what your momma gave ya” and “Hey we want some p___y”. Before we knew any better, we were singing “head, head, and mo’ head”. Now little boys don’t have to sneak to watch Playboy because BET makes sure that we see more than enough soft core nudity.

Little boys aren’t really raised with the mind set of what healthy sex is. He is raised on terminology like “when you gonna let me hit that”, I am gonna blow your back out”, and “When you gonna give me some brains”……So this is what he has become. Women aren’t really seen as queens and princesses, but rather as objects of desire. For most men, it does not make him angry to see Nelly swipe a credit card down a woman’s behind -he may think that it’s funny and maybe even something that he wants to try. This is not an excuse for the male behavior, however I believe this to be an important insight into why he behaves the way that he does.

My name is Ilex Bien-Aime and I live in Washington, DC with my lovely wife. I write as a man who has seen women mistreat themselves and who have allowed themselves to be mistreated. I write as a man who wants to give my future daughters a guideline on how to deal with men. Lastly I write what I write because my female friends are always asking my opinion about these situations.  Connect with Ilex at Iamsayingit.blogspot.com or via email at ilexbienaime@gmail.com.

Aiyana Ma’at Talks About What It Takes To Be Married With 1690 WVON’s “Talk Of Chicago” Matt McGill

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Recently Aiyana wrote an article on our site titled, “Ladies, You’re Not Ready To Get Married If….” Needless to say it generated a lot of buzz and attracted the national radio audience. She was called by the Matt McGill Show (WVON 1690AM) and asked to speak on her piece. Check out the interview and let us know what you think.

Two Religions. One Marriage. What Happened When A Bapist Married A Seventh Day Adventist

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By Lana Moline

As sunset approached each Friday, everything suddenly got quiet in my home. That was strikingly different. I grew up in the Baptist faith. Yet at 29, I married a man who was reared in the Seventh Day Adventist faith.

Well let me backtrack, I didn’t just grow up Baptist, I was born and raised in the church that my father helped to build and my mother was and still is the little hat wearing Sunday School teaching mother of the church. So by proxy, I was active in every facet of the church from singing in the choir to teaching Vacation Bible School and eventually starting an education foundation for the youth. I suppose, just like every other young lady, I dreamed of marrying someone who had a similar background and experiences. I truly never thought about whether denomination would be a consideration in choosing a mate. I will admit now that I took some things for granted. My mother was raised in the Methodist faith yet my father was Baptist. It wasn’t until now that I even thought about how different that must have been for her.

For me, I married a friend, my classmate with whom I graduated high school. That certainly helped me to feel less weirded out about the idea of marrying someone who was not apart of a church I was more familiar with. But there was still the matter of sharing this with my family and facing their reaction. At first I was extremely nervous so while we were still dating, I casually slipped on a dress, nonchalantly joined him for worship service one Saturday and worked it into conversation on Sunday after I attended church with my mother. Her face showed some confusion but I quickly shared how powerful the service had been. That calmed her concerns. Even though this approach worked this time, I knew that eventually I would have to spill it and let my family know. I rationalized with myself comparing everything that was worse. He wasn’t a bank robber, wasn’t evading arrest or a drug kingpin. He was just a guy who loved me, wanted to spend the rest of his life with me who just happened to go to church on a different day. I figured that if I explained it that way, it would go over well and it did.

After I got married, I heard all this buzz about bringing in the Sabbath. At first it felt and looked like a race against time to have everything done before sunset on Friday so that the entire day on Saturday or Sabbath would be devoted to worship. This was easy enough to do in theory but with worship being extremely personal, I desired an authentic experience. So I set out to make Sabbath worship my own and that’s where I saw some of the major differences.

What I love about the Seventh Day Adventist church is that as a world religion, it is extremely organized. My husband held a regional position in youth ministry and we travelled quite a bit during the first year. From a global perspective, I saw hundreds of churches, youth groups and organizations moving and operating by the same guidelines and with the same purpose and specificity in mind. One of the main differences is that the church believes and promotes its health message and the importance of Christian Education consistently. There are many people within the faith who attended church schools from pre-k to graduate school. That was huge for me because as a former baptist, I don’t think I ever considered attending a baptist university. The lesson that I learned from this is the consistency of values. It certainly made me look closely at the choices I was going to make for my children. Another glaring difference was the health message. I had heard that many of our illnesses are caused by the consumption of unhealthy foods so I was open to understanding a better way. I had never been in the company of so many health conscious people in all my life nor had I eaten Veggie Gumbo before now. I must admit that it took some getting use to but considering the quality of my diet now, I wish I had made better choices sooner.

As for fellowship and the social aspect, my girlfriend said it best

when she visited the day I was baptized. She looked at me and said

that her experience there was not any different from other first time

visits. Truth is, I did marry someone who had similar experiences and

background. In my mother’s effort to cook for her son-in-law, she has

also made healthier choices and my entire family adores my

husband. I’m happy to report 11 years later, I would not change a

thing. I relish the fact that as we worship on Sabbath, I unplug from all

my cares and get some much needed rest. Again, I only wish I had

done it sooner.

Lana Moline is a freelance writer and poet who lives in Fort Worth with her husband and three kids. She has been married 11 years and understands that marriage truly is a journey that is sometimes complicated by our own thoughts, perceptions and feelings. Visit her at her blog LanaSuccess4Kids.com

First Lady Michelle Obama Speaks Wise Words To Young Girls That We Can Definitely Apply To Our Marriages

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By Team BLAM

First Lady Michelle Obama recently traveled to South Africa and Botswana with daughters Malia & Sasha. While there she spoke to a group of young women who were participants in the African Women’s Forum and were apparently heavily impacted by her words to them while there.

In the October issue of Ebony Magazine they capture some of those words.  And as I read them while laying on my bed in my room I found myself  deeply moved as If I were there sitting next to those girls as they listened to our First Lady’s every word. And as I took the words and message in, it hit me–these words are just as relevant and appropriate for us married folks out here trying to get it right. Amazing! Read on for a little of what she said as she used Mandela’s life as a platform to inspire and empower…

“Mandela has lived through a struggle that few nations know. … There must have been moments in that jail when he thought, “This is too slow.” I am so tired. And this is never going to work,” she said. “But … if we see Mandela as hope, we would see the slowness not as a reason to stop and be impatient but to keep moving, and not get so caught up in the immediacy.”

….”The only that happens in an instant is destruction. … Build something…earthquake; it’s gone. But everything else requires time. Raising children, building a family, having a career: All of it takes time. I want all of you to continue to work fiercely, and to be impatient. But don’t let the struggle discourage you because it’s hard. It’s supposed to be hard.”

Think about it BLAM Fam: Haven’t there been moments in your marriage where you’ve thought “This is too slow.” I am so tired. And this is never going to work,” ? Nobody ever said marriage was easy but it is good, soul growing, character building, potential stretching work that is worth all of our effort and time. Don’t you agree?