"How do you tell your children about this? Don't you just dread that talk?" she asked.
I flinched at the questions. "No," I replied quickly, only to hear my heart whispering, "and yes, too."
A week ago, a simple white envelope in the mailbox gave my husband and me an evening where we paused in sadness, lowering our shoulders in defeat yet again. Because of one woman's lie to protect herself almost five years ago, my husband permanently lost his Louisiana law license earlier this year. And now, the other state where he practiced law, Mississippi, has done the same.
There went Plan B for his career and our family's future. But this time, there were no tears, no feeling of brokenness inside. Most days, we accept that God has caused this to happen for our eternal good. Most days, this catastrophic event is just something else to tuck away in our hearts as we move forward in a renewed life full of God's grace and blessings.
But my mother was right--he and I will need to sit the children down one day all too soon and tell them their daddy's story, a story any child can relate to of someone not telling the truth because she didn't want to get in trouble.
Since the Internet makes history permanently visible for public consumption, I don't want them relying on a google search for a definition of their father's character.
Google doesn't even tell a tenth of who he is.
It doesn't show a man who refused to lie when offered the deal to sell out somebody else in order to save himself and his family from this shame.
It doesn't tell of a man so generous with his money and time that the thought of him trying to defraud anybody is laughable.
It doesn't show the long days and nights he works to support his family only to come home and put in more hours playing with his children, changing diapers, and helping out with supper.
It doesn't tell of the humble spirit, the many hours he spends in God's word, the heart that loves Jesus.
No, Google doesn't show any of that.
And that's what I'll tell my children...when they're ready.
(Photo: My man, home from work and arms already full before the tie comes off.)