"I could feel hot, salty tears coming down my face. I sat and cried silently... I was scrunching myself up against the wall as far as I could. All of a sudden, someone from behind us taps on the guy’s shoulder..."
"I could feel hot, salty tears coming down my face. I sat and cried silently... I was scrunching myself up against the wall as far as I could. All of a sudden, someone from behind us taps on the guy’s shoulder..."
In churches across America, a quiet but consequential conversation is unfolding. It often begins with a question—sometimes whispered, sometimes posted publicly on social media....
One morning in college, I woke up, got ready and drove to a church to buy myself a purity ring. My heart ached a little bit at the thought of it because I had already had sex before marriage, and because even at that time, the last word that I would have used to define myself was “pure.”
"My parents were in there with us. My mom held me as I screamed my head off, crying my eyes out, and hyperventilating. Kenny was behind me and my dad was behind him holding him. We were all a complete wreck. I will never forget what I saw in that room that day."
"I got in the front and he put our baby in her seat. I have no memory of the rest of the night. Jake died that night. I lost my husband, and I became a widow at 18."
"We were thinking, 'We're good, normal people! Why are we the ones who have a sick baby? Why are we the ones whose baby died? Is this really happening?'"
