The air felt cold and heavy as I trudged through the snow to where my husband's ashes lay. It was January of 1997, two and a half years since Dan’s death, and I came not so much to talk to him, but to God. I needed to fulfill a decision I had made before Him in the previous week. I dug through the snow, uncover the marker, and carefully laid a dozen red carnations beside it. Through blurred eyes, I saw the brilliant red against the pristine white. "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be white as snow.” (Isaiah 1: 18). I knew that in his last hours Dan had come somehow to know and accept the grace of God—a grace greater than sin and its consequences. Now I was in need of that same certainty of grace. So as I lay the flowers down I began singing, "Blessed be the name of the Lord, who gives and takes away ...”

I grew up as the daughter of a pastor in a home that overflowed in ministry. I dreamed of always serving God and having a home filled with the love of Jesus. When I met Dan at Houghton College, I thought my dreams had begun to come true. We dated for three years and married a month after we graduated. We wanted to minister to others and were thrilled when God led us to serve as missionaries in Japan. Dan taught in a Christian school there and I poured my heart into our marriage, our four sons, and into many foster children who passed through our home. God had granted my heart’s desire; my cup overflowed.

But in the spring of 1990, a slow unraveling of our lives began. I was in the U.S. for my oldest son’s wedding when I received a call from a hospital in Tokyo saying that Dan was seriously ill with menegitis. After the wedding, I rushed from the airport in Japan straight to the hospital. Dan looked like he was dying. He regained some strength but the doctors were still concerned. After further testing, the doctor quietly told me that Dan was HIV positive. Within hours, I too was rushed off for blood tests.

The next day was our twenty second wedding anniversary. As I faced Dan, I was stunned as he revealed secrets from his childhood. When his older brother, David, was ten or eleven years old, his piano teacher began molesting him. David, in turn, began molesting Dan. He repeatedly warned Dan that if he told anyone, he would drop dead. Ironically, five years later, David was giving a piano recital and suddenly died of a ruptured pancreas. Fearing that David’s death was related to their dark secret, Dan lived with an intense fear of death. For years, he believed his life depended on never revealing the truth. This, along with his feelings of anger and shame, gave Satan a foothold in his life and set him on a path of self destructive behavior.

The pain of his secret intensified over the years and Dan tried to erase it by being outgoing and striving for perfection. But, this didn't work. Eventually, he began to seek out relationships with men. There were no emotions involved or faces remembered. It was a form of escape and relief from pain… a sexual addiction. Despite his secret life, I felt Dan loved me very much. Later I often wondered how I had been so deceived, why I hadn't picked up on any signals, why our marriage seemed so solid and healthy. Now I realize that this can be true in cases of sexual addiction.

The doctor said Dan had only two months to live. It was a sad time, but the first mark of God's mercy and grace was that neither I nor my children tested positive for HIV. But, a blur of decision-making began…who to tell and how to tell them, when to leave what to pack, where to go—and what about finances and housing? We sorted through years of possessions, closed down the ministry, and said our goodbyes. The boys did not want to leave and were not cooperative. Loving friends helped as best they could. We arrived in the States numb and devasted. Within a week, Dan was admitted to a hospital for psychiatric care. I had never bought a house or car, or made decisions about where to live, how to support ourselves or how to pay hospital bills. I felt very alone. We gathered our immediate and extended family together and told them the truth about his illness. When we told our two oldest sons, they could scarcely comprehend—and I had no way of easing their pain.

Defying the doctor's predictions, Dan’s condition stabilized and we both found part-time jobs. There was still a great deal of stigma attached to HIV/AIDS and we felt we were carrying the heaviest of secrets. To prepare for the future, I returned to school to earn a Master's degree. There were times when the only way I sensed that God was still with us was through His provision of people who cared and helped. I had never been in a place of such utter helplessness and dependence on Him. His Word became very precious as I held very tightly onto Psalm 112:7, "He will have no fear of bad news. His heart is steadfast, trusting in the Lord."

For the next four years, I experienced the extremes of almost every emotion possible. I felt betrayed. I grieved for the loss of our life in Japan, our friends and ministry there. I was filled with terror of the future and felt shame for the secrets. I had nightmares and each day was an exercise in survival.

Dan was often hospitalized and with each illness grew weaker. In June of 1994, the day after our second son’s wedding, Dan gathered our family together to say goodbye. He told us he was finally able to accept forgiveness from us and from God, but would never be able to forgive himself. Two weeks later, his temperature escalated and his mind began to go. As I sat next to him and swabbed his lips with wet cotton, I pleaded, “Dan, please forgive yourself.” On July 10th, at 2:15 in the morning, he took his final breath. There was a smile and a miraculous light on his face when he saw Jesus. In death, he experienced the truth that there is no evil that God can’t forgive and tranform. I knew that Dan had seen Jesus and heard Him say, "You’re forgiven.” God's amazing grace.

I thought that when Dan died, life would slowly return to normal. But I didn’t realize how deeply my foundations had been shaken. I had always had an optimistic personality, but now I became haunted by fear. Each day I expected that another tragedy might strike. I feared each routine HIV test would be positive. There was also an intense, unacknowledged anger. It was as though both Dan and God had betrayed me. I had trusted God and felt He had abandoned me. I had loved and served Him faithfully and with real joy, but it seemed as though He had turned His back.

A year later I was engulfed with debilitating fears and was barely eating. Depression and suicidal thoughts increased. My sons, my pastor and my counselor intervened, wanting my consent to be hospitalized. But I said, “No way, I’m fine.” My sons replied, “We watched our dad die before our eyes and now we are watching you die.” I conceded and agreed to intensive outpatient care.

It took time, work and the prayers of family and friends to get me to Dan’s graveside that wintry January day in 1997. The song, "Blessed be the name of the Lord" wasn’t a song I sing daily. Recovery is not a linear process. As I inched forward, a small stress, a misspoken word, or a flash of memory flung me back down into a pit. But the healing continued. At times God pierced my heart through a Sunday School lesson, the words of a friend or the chapter of a book. At other times, He allowed me, surprisingly, to be His instrument in the healing of others. He demonstrated the truth that nothing He allowed to happen in my life would be wasted.

It is now over a decade since Dan’s death and there have been miracles far greater than our testing negative for HIV. There was the miraculous light on Dan's face when he saw Jesus and experienced the truth that there is no evil that God can’t forgive and transform. There were miracles of God's faithfulness and provision for our family. And, I have been able to move on. Satan’s intent was to wreak havoc in my life. He wanted to "steal, kill and destroy" (Jn. 10: 10). But "where sin abounded, grace abounded all the more" (Rom. 5:20). The evidence of His grace has been seen not only by me, but by those who are closest to me. The Lord has brought healing in my life. I have seen the evidence of God’s promises in many areas. He has bound up my broken heart, given me joy instead of mourning and a garment of praise instead of despair.

Isaiah 61 describes a sinful and broken people in the process of restoration. God promises that they will grow to be "oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord, for the display of His splendor... All who see them will acknowledge that they are a people the Lord has blessed."

Acknowledgements

Miriam's story has previously been published as “Heart Lessons” by Emily van Dalen in Women of the Harvest (Vol. 8, Issue 1: Jan./Feb./Mar. 2005) and as “Lessons for the Heart” in Reach Out Columbia, editor Anne Buck, (Vol. 2, Issue 1: January 2006). This current version is a blend of those works by Rebecca Madden-Magnuson.

Miriam wants to help women whose husbands or loved ones are struggling with sexual addictions. You can send her a confidential email.