My husband came home days before he had to turn himself in. I have no idea what he told #2. But we celebrated his birthday as a family. And then, just like that, we dropped him off at jail. He had 3 years to serve. And we absolutely needed it.

The wear and tear of the last 3 years’ chaos had left me like a war-torn country. Without peace or an identity. Now sleep came easily. I knew where he was. I knew he was safe. I could fully lock in on all God had for me to do. And I believe the same was happening for my husband.

You know the term brainwash? I had to do the opposite. I had to wash my brain. Cleanse it of my old way of thinking. Soak it in new ideas about all of it. Myself, my husband and making us work.

I listened to anything I could get my ears on. CDs, DVDs, cassettes. Anything and everything.

I found teachers who spoke to me. Who taught me a new language that would serve us rather than damage us. Men like Noel Jones, Bishop Jakes, and Creflo Dollar blessed me with their wisdom.

Slowly my mind was shifting. My heart was growing. And even my words glowed with hope for my marriage.

Now hold on a second.

If it suddenly sounds like I’m sneezing rainbows and butterflies, uhh, no.

While the strange and extreme blessing of jail gave me peace of mind to do my work in, there was still tension between us. My husband was still in contact with this woman.

I know. Bear with me. She had a son—not my husband’s. But he felt obligated to the child. Uh huh. Exactly. Not on my time. That’s what my mind shouted.

And yet I knew I couldn’t control him. He was a grown man—even when he didn’t act like one- and he was going to do what he was going to do. That was his.

Mine was to pray. And so I did.