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“Honey, I think I need to see a counselor,” she announced. Janet had known that for several days. Her heart was so heavy, heavy with shame. It was an undeserved shame.
“Why? Can’t you talk with one of the pastors?” Her husband was frugal and didn’t want her to spend money foolishly. They had health insurance, but the policy wouldn’t pay for counseling. He couldn’t get a handle on what was troubling his wife. He, like most men, tended to understand things in black and white concepts.
Janet nervously answered, “I need to talk to someone who doesn’t know me.” Her anxiety level was increasing by each tick of the clock.
“I don’t understand. Why?” Men don’t understand sometimes. There are some topics so personal a woman wants to talk to someone she doesn’t know. This was one of those topics.
Janet, a usually outgoing person, was so ridden with guilt. It was as if a dark cloud hovered over her. The memories of years ago haunted her. Janet took a deep breath and blurted out,
“Because I was sexually molested when I was a kid.” Having verbalized her deepest, darkest secret, Janet ran to the bathroom. She desperately wanted to hide. It was a small bathroom, barely large enough for one person. Janet climbed into the shower, trying to escape the humiliation she thought might follow. Perhaps it was figuratively a means of washing away the disgrace.
For a very brief period of time, there was silence. Between Janet’s sobs, the soft scraping of metal on metal could be heard. Craig was pushing the shower curtain aside. He tenderly wrapped his loving arms around his sobbing wife.
“It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.” Janet cried for several minutes. Craig tenderly held her until her tears subsided and her energy was spent. She felt like a wet doll in his arms. “Yes, honey. You may see a counselor. I’ll help in any way possible.” He gently stroked her hair, assuring her of his love. Suddenly she felt safe, secure in his loving embrace. It was all she needed.
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