Broken Wives Devastated by Adultery
I was 17 years old when I walked in on my first lady balling her eyes out in her office after a Sunday afternoon service at our church. As a young teen, I admired her so much. She was beautiful and so were her 3 children—all boys. And her husband seemed to be the most charming man in the whole world. His smile, charisma, sense of humor and love for people made him one of the most popular pastors in our city.
I wanted to marry someone just like him back then. I also imagined myself adorned in one of those big sparkly hats just like the woman who stood by his side. Being pastor and first lady seemed so glamorous.
I used to spend a lot of time around the pastor’s wife because I was her eager adjutant-in-training. Anything she needed, I was right on it and happy to serve. On this particular day when I found her crying, I wasn’t quite sure what happened, but I knew I had caught her at a very vulnerable moment.
“Oh, I-I’m sorry first lady,” I stammered an apology, quickly backing out the doorway, feeling like I was invading her personal space.
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