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Name: Sisely

My age: 24
I prefer to drink: Whisky
Music: Latin

I turned and was pleasantly surprised to see Sarah Kershaw's attractive countenance. Not Sarah Kershaw. I've also met some of the most priggish, self-righteous assholes there. Understand what makes her tick, and maybe she could be led astray. I was angry at his callous and cavalier attitude.

And her green eyes belied a spirit and spark much greater than she had yet displayed while operating within her husband's shadow. The "dividers" are the modern-day Pharisees, whom Jesus said were "whitewashed tombs": beautiful on the outside, but full of dead men's bones on the inside. Under his own interpretation of Scripture, he would necessarily be made the scapegoat for her indiscretions.

A devious and cruel plan began to form in my mind. I had taught Sunday School, and truly believed what I was teaching. With Brother Larry's hellfire and brimstone messages, I bought into her excuse for not wanting to go: she couldn't stand the preaching. I may even get to the point where I can wish Tricia a happy life.

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Yet, somehow, she exuded a quiet, innocent allure. If it didn't, then I needed to accept it graciously and move on. But why would she be willing to cheat on him? Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements. Regards, Average Bear.

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Author's Note: As always, any feedback from readers -- whether favorable or not -- is much appreciated. But the more I thought about my plan, the more I liked it. The truth was that Tricia had found someone else. I walked away to avoid saying something I'd later regret.

They've ed up for the wrong team. Over the course of the next week, I had a chance to stew on Brother Larry's cold and cruel response to my predicament. That means nobody who's divorced. She wore no makeup or jewelry. The spotlight was always on Brother Larry, whereas Sarah was always in the shadows. We'll start the replacement process the following week.

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They're the goats! If it worked, then he deserved it. Sarah's response left me speechless. Her arms and calf muscles were toned and athletic. Get his wife to cheat on him. Her personality was a stark contrast to his -- where he was confident, loud and brash, she was mild-mannered, quiet and cautious.

And yet, somehow, I didn't really trust him. Those in the latter camp are what I call the "dividers" -- those who divide "us" against "them. My eye caught Sarah's as she turned to sit. I knew down deep that revenge belongs to the Lord, and that I should show kindness to my enemies. She hurried past me and made a beeline toward their family vehicle. And she soon exchanged her husband of eight years for the lead guitarist in the rock band.

I was deeply saddened by the double whammy of losing my wife and my ministry in one fell swoop. She had decided to a local band, playing local gigs.

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Her dark auburn hair was certainly God's gift rather than the product of a Clairol or L'Oreal bottle. Being a talented vocalist, she had exchanged the church choir for a rock band. When the coast was clear, I handed him my letter.

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I didn't know whether to scream or cry. That was the key question. He was able to twist the Scriptures to make it sound like we're in an all-out war. The music was over, and I was among the stragglers still standing. He read it and said, "I'll handle it from here.

He might even learn some empathy by finding out what it feels like to lose his ministry for something beyond his control. She did little to fix up her hair. She not only wouldn't me in ministering to others, but she stopped going to church entirely. Her loose-fitting clothes could not completely disguise her slim hips and ample breasts. I had served as a deacon in the church for nearly five years. She tilted her head and pursed her lips in an empathetic gesture. I had reached out to families struggling with illness and to individuals in financial need.

She was definitely not the gossipy kind.

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As I walked toward the back to leave the building, a hand tapped my shoulder. Kershaw," I replied, "it's tough right now, but I'll eventually be okay. I suspected he liked it that way. Her clear, natural complexion was nearly flawless, save for a few endearing freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks.

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She'd already shown me that she was a person of deep empathy. Her sad, tired countenance showed an immediate reflection of my own pain.

The preacher's wife

Not a war against hunger, or a war against poverty, or a war against oppression -- rather a war against homosexuals, a war against pornographers, a war against politicians who don't happen to be Republican. She bore a look of concern. I knew she didn't know what to say, but wanted to show her concern. Sitting in church the next Sunday, my deacon reation letter in hand, I noticed Brother Larry's wife Sarah sitting on the front row. She sat, head down, her face buried in her hands.

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She wore extremely high necklines, not daring to show cleavage. Another realization that struck me was that Sarah was an extremely attractive woman. I was somewhat ashamed for even thinking of it. I didn't go to seminary and get my Master's of Divinity for nothing, Tom.

Trust me, I know what I'm talking about. She seemed tired, gaunt, almost sickly. I had gladly visited patients in hospitals and nursing homes. Or, as they're fond of saying in Southern Baptist churches, he was the "preacher. Lest I myself be guilty of being a divider, let me sincerely state that these hypocrites truly need our prayers -- and but for the grace of God, there go I. Among the chief dividers that I've met in church life was Brother Larry Kershaw. She left the thought hanging.

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My fears about his authenticity were borne out when my wife, Tricia, left me. Brother Larry seemed incapable of comprehending the painful loss and sense of utter rejection that I was experiencing. Perhaps all that time spent in the Lord's service and away from Tricia had led to the demise of our marriage.

I've met some of the kindest, most genuinely caring people in church. The thought crossed my mind, as I sang and watched, that she almost seemed to blend into the background -- not just here and now, but in church life generally. Half an hour later, after sitting through another of Larry's scorched-earth sermons, I waited patiently for other congregants to finish telling him what a wonderful message he'd given. It would be a long wait until Brother Larry was finished soaking up all the congregational adulation and ed her in the car. She was at least ten years younger than Brother Larry -- probably about my age.

A tear leaked out of one eye, then another from the other eye. She did her best to hide it. As we all stood to sing a hymn, my eyes remained on Sarah Kershaw.

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There were others in the church for whom the same words as Sarah's would have been tantamount to asking for the juicy details. Though I stayed busy at work, my time outside of work had been freed completely by my banishment from the deacon group.

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Her skirts and dresses never ventured above her knees. But she politely declined my offer to look for another church together.

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Please vote and provide your comments! I needed comfort and compassion; he offered only coldness and cruelty. And now I was being told that because my wife had left me, I was no longer fit for service. Before I knew it, tears were streaming down her face.

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