One of my biggest struggles through everything I have experienced has been not allowing my anger and fear to turn into hatred. I haven’t always done this well. In many ways, it is still a battle I fight today.
Romans 12:14 says:
“Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse.”
If I’m honest, this has been one of the hardest commands in Scripture for me to obey.
Today, I am mostly on the other side of the persecution my husband and I experienced—persecution I never could have imagined. Before all of this happened, I had spent my life trying to be someone others could trust and respect. At least I thought I had.
And if I’m being completely honest, that mattered to me.
I wanted to be known as a good wife, a good mother, and someone who treated people with kindness. I’ve never been overly extroverted. In fact, I’m pretty shy, and it takes me a while to really get to know people. I’ve never wanted to be the center of attention or well known. I actually prefer the opposite. But I hoped that those who did know me would see someone who was compassionate, genuine, and cared deeply for others.
So when the first article was published about my husband and me—filled with things that were so far from the truth—it was gut-wrenching.
Then it went viral.
The story spread across the country and even around the world. Local news stations picked it up. Tabloid reporters waited outside our home hoping to get pictures or a statement. Our small town’s Facebook page exploded with hatred, assumptions, and judgment toward our family—especially my husband and me. I received threatening text messages from people I had never met. I no longer felt safe in my own home or even in my own community.
It felt like I was living in a movie. I couldn’t believe this was actually my life. Everywhere I looked, it seemed there was darkness, and I couldn’t see any light at the end of it.
How could this be happening?
It all began because one woman manipulated the truth to serve her own agenda. She preyed on our son when he was vulnerable, twisting reality until he believed she cared more about him than the people who had loved him his entire life.
But she wasn’t rescuing him.
She was pulling him further away from the people who loved him most.
In the process, she wasn’t only trying to destroy us—she was destroying our son too.
So how do you bless someone like that?
I have never felt hatred toward another person the way I did during that season. Looking back, that realization still grieves me.
And yet, almost every day, I prayed.
I prayed that God would soften my heart.
I prayed that I could forgive her.
I prayed that somehow she would recognize the damage she had caused—not only to us, but to our son.
Then there were the people who knew us. Or at least, I thought they did.
Some turned against us. Others fueled the fire, adding their voices to the accusations, eager for their own moment in the spotlight. Very few of them were actually interested in helping our son. They believed the lies, but when his life began to spiral because of the very lack of boundaries they encouraged, they quietly disappeared.
None of them stayed.
None of them walked through the hardest days with him.
None of them were there when the cameras left and the headlines faded.
So how do I bless them?
The truth is, I don’t have a perfect answer.
I wish I could tell you I have completely forgiven everyone involved and that none of this hurts anymore. But that wouldn’t be true.
Forgiveness is still something I am walking through.
So, I am still a work in progress. I am still learning what forgiveness looks like. I pray for those who have hurt me, and I ask God daily to soften my heart so I can love them the way He calls me to. Some days I do that better than others.
But I refuse to let hatred have the final say.
Unpolished Truth 