Hope that endures.

(taken that night)

Almost one year ago, I was in Savannah, Georgia. It was the night before my sister's wedding. After the rehearsal dinner, Debra, the bridesmaids, and I decided to go to the beach.

Two weeks before that night, my husband had told me out of the blue that he had had an affair. Four days before, he had left me and moved to his brother's house while I was at work. Two days before, he had called, apologizing and imploring me to let him come home. My dad had put him through the wringer. We all decided it was best to go to Savannah for the wedding without him, and sort everything out when I got back. I had reasonable hope for my marriage, but I also knew it could just as easily go the other way.

The night was cold, but the car was like a warm incubator, all of us piled in together, music and laughing. As we drove through the dark, I had no idea what was going to become of me. But as I looked out over the dark marsh, on the way to Tybee Island, I felt this wave of peace sweep over me. I knew deep down that no matter what was ahead of me, the God who created the marsh and the stars and the ocean and the universe was with me, and always would be. And no matter what, there would still be love and happiness in my life, and life would still be good. And in the year since then, I have been shown the truth of that moment over and over again. I believe in it with all my heart.