How could Don ever love and forgive me after all I’ve done? How could God? • Tears blurred my vision as I watched Don walk across the tarmac at Santa Barbara Airport, then up into the airplane. The handsome sailor and I had met at church, then dated for three weeks. Now he was leaving California for his new assignment in Virginia.

The sight of Don pausing to give a final wave brought a lump to my throat. He looked so strong in his “dress blues.” But it was his playful blue eyes that intrigued me most. There was a depth behind them that I longed to explore. Even though Don had recently said, “I love you,” I doubted I’d ever get the chance to find out more about what that meant. He didn’t know about my past. At 20, I already harbored too many secrets.

As Don’s plane taxied down the runway and then ascended into the sky, I remembered how innocently my troubles had begun. From childhood, I’d only wanted to play the piano and be recognized as a musician.

When I was 7 I asked my parents to enroll me in piano lessons. By age 13, I was playing during our church services. The music just seemed to flow from deep within.

But well-meaning youth group leaders sent me the wrong message: “Other girls can play piano too. Don’t make yourself better. Don’t show off here.”

Those discouraging words stole the joy from my piano playing and reduced it to a duty. At an impressionable age, I was left feeling hurt and vulnerable. But I soon got the encouragement my young soul craved. It came at school — from my good-looking young music teacher.

“You have a gift,” he’d tell me in front of other students. “You need to be in my jazz band.”

That praise coming from a person of authority helped soothe my hurt and gave me status among my peers. But it also enticed me into a web from which it would be difficult to escape. My teacher and I were soon meeting after school, and growing intimate.

This is wrong, I knew deep inside.

Despite these misgivings, his affirmations kept drawing me back to him. I was finally able to escape our relationship by going away to college, where I majored in music. However, there was no escaping my wounded heart. When I didn’t find appreciation for who I was, I would step over the line to find it. A shared love of music soon entangled me in a new relationship.

Becoming music minister at a church in Lompoc, CA, helped me refocus my priorities. I ended the relationship. Retreating to the small church when it was empty, I’d sit at the piano and practice hymns. The piano was beside the altar where a large wooden cross seemed to reach over and embrace the sanctuary.

But then, unexpected news sent my life into turmoil. I was pregnant! Abortion seemed like the only way out. I hadn’t anticipated the guilt that would follow. I couldn’t stop crying. Would God send me to hell for all I’d done? And now, what about Don? Would he hate me if he knew?

As his plane faded into the clouds I prayed, Forgive me, God, recalling the Scripture, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins … ”
(1 John 1:9).

Despite my prayer, I didn’t feel forgiven. Had I gone too far?

Over the next month, Don and I exchanged letters. When Don told me he’d soon be coming home on leave, I made a decision.

I want to be up-front about my past. If Don knows the worst about me, he can make a choice. If he still loves me, I’ll know this relationship is real.

I arranged to pick him up at the airport and purchased a stylish, off-white dress for the occasion. “You look beautiful!” Don exclaimed as he greeted me with a kiss.

Although the compliment thrilled my heart, our relationship felt as hazy as the mountain fog we drove through on our way home. Telling the truth was the only way I could clear things up between us. Still, fear of Don’s rejection made me unsure about how, or where, to do this.

God, I silently prayed, let me know when the time is right.

As Don’s leave slipped away, I tried to tell him but couldn’t get the words out. Then one day he joined me at the church as I was picking out music for the service. While he sat beside me on the bench, I practiced hymns on the piano. Before I knew it, Don was singing along.

In that tender moment, I glanced at the cross near the altar. My heart felt its embrace.

Now is the time to tell him, God’s voice seemed to whisper.

Don’s eyes never moved from mine as I wept out the truth about my teacher, the other relationship and the abortion.

“If you never want to see me again, I’ll understand.”

His voice unwavering, Don spoke with sincerity: “It doesn’t matter to me what you’ve done. I love you for who you are.”

That instant, I knew as never before that God loved me unconditionally too.

As my tears of sorrow turned to tears of joy, Don kissed them from my face. Then he told me about wrong turns he’d made in his own life, straying from his childhood faith during his teen years and in the military. However, a family he had met in Virginia had taken him under its wing.

“They loved me back to God,” he said.

Only a month later, Don and I were married. As we repeated our vows, I gazed into his clear blue eyes, now recognizing what I’d always seen reflected in their depths — Christ’s fathomless, never-ending, forgiving love. When Jesus’ arms reached out from the cross, I’m glad I reached back.