To forgive, when his story differed from mine, took several meetings with God in my prayer corner. Years would not change his outlook. It took awhile for my heart to acquiesce with the command of Jesus’ words, “Unless you forgive…. .” He had to help and heal the pain with the immense love of His presence. I quickly put on my woolen plaid skirt, a top and a warm jacket. It would be the last Sunday of this year; he had already left the house for the choir.

The empty church looked barren, only five people and two children in the last two rows of the pews. In order not to be seen in the live webcast, I sneaked in and sat in the back. All of us far from each other, as if we were strangers determined not to become friendly. The masks on our faces hid any possible smiles. I saw him among the few choir members sparsely seated facing the altar. The sermon suited my intention to obey the One I yearned to follow. It was St. Steven’s Sunday.

Our discourse in the church’s parking lot paved the road to peace. We had moments of smiling faces as we drove home unmasked and still married.