by Toye Gillman

Created on: October 30, 2008   Last Updated: August 31, 2010

I was married for 17 years to a wonderful man. We were married when I was 19 years old and he was 21. We started out with nothing. We saved every penny for ten years and spent four years building a home. We built it ourselves, so it was completely paid for and we didn't have the burden of a mortgage. When it was finished, I truly thought I had achieved my life's goals. I had a great marriage, two wonderful sons, and a beautiful new home. According to plan, I quit my job so I could stay home with my boys. I became a room mother, school trip chaperon, T-ball coach, basketball coach, and even home-schooled my oldest son one year.

I thought I was happy, but I had a deep yearning for something. I did not know what it was, but it continued to gnaw at me. Something was missing. Was it the fact that I needed to accomplish more in life than a spotless home and a meal on the table every night? Was it that I needed some adult conversation? After all, my adult contact was limited to my husband, who would come home and talk about his job, my sons, and my Mother. Conversations revolved around home, kids, and motherhood; and at the worst times, consisted of conversations about "Barney" and "Masters of the Universe." I didn't know why, but I just felt empty.

I had always known there was something different about me, and deep down, I knew what it was; however, I somehow kept it a secret from myself. It seems so silly when I think back on it. How could I miss it? I was a complete tomboy. I didn't like "girly" things. I wanted to be outside, getting dirty, playing sports, working on cars, hunting, fishing, camping, and playing army with the neighbor boys. When other girls my age worshiped Shaun Cassidy and Donny Osmond, I had posters of "Charlie's Angels," Ann and Nancy Wilson, and Farrah Fawcett, scantily clad in bathing suits or "Daisy Dukes." Even when I look back at photos of me as a child, I can tell I was not like other girls. I would be in pictures next to my sister, who would be in frilly, lacey, clothing, and me next to her in my old Army jacket. As it turned out, something totally unrelated allowed me to realize who I really am.

I spent a couple years searching for the missing element that I so desperately needed. After exhausting all other avenues known to me, I began reading the Bible from cover to cover. I faithfully read from the Bible every night, sometimes falling asleep with it. When I reached the book of Revelation, try as I might, I could not discern what message

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