by Carol Gustke

Created on: April 25, 2009   Last Updated: May 05, 2009

I knew very little about grief. My grandmother died when I was twelve. I remember feeling sad, but life went on as usual for me. Little did I know the grief that my future held.

I met Jerry while attending college. He was a great dancer and fun to be with. I used all my feminine charm to draw him in and it worked. One year later, we married. Why do I need an education I thought to myself. All I wanted was a home of my own and children. Jerry could supply that need.

Exactly one year later, our first son was born. Jerry was in his last year of college and we were barely making ends meet. I didn't realize it then, but having children meant I wouldn't have to get a job. I suffered from low self-esteem and the thought of working terrified me.

I felt safe being taken care of. I knew how to cook and clean and be a mother. I had gone straight from high-school to college and was never employed a day in my life, except for baby-sitting jobs.

Eighteen months later, our second son arrived. My days were filled with cleaning, washing clothes, shopping and watching soap operas. Jerry worked full time as a salesman but wasn't happy in his career.

One day, he announced that he felt that God was calling him into the ministry. He applied to Southern Baptist Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky and was accepted. That Fall we moved to Louisville and settled into a small apartment complex where other seminary students lived. I loved it. All of the families were in the same boat; struggling to stay afloat and raising children. I met other mothers at the playground and enjoyed popping in and out of each others' apartment.

The third year at seminary, our third son was born. Jerry worked as a superintendent at a rescue mission and I stayed home tending the house and children. Occasionally I would talk with a working mother and marveled at her ability to help support her family. Still, the thought of me working never entered my mind.

Jerry graduated and he was called to a small church up north. I attended women's Bible studies and sang in the choir. We had been there four years when our last child, another boy, was born. My life was full and blessed.

Then, June 3rd arrived. A Tuesday night. The night we went calling on church members. We decided to stop in to see a new couple Rich and Sharon, who had recently joined our congregation. They owned a pair of motorcycles, and Rich and Jerry decided to take a quick ride around the countryside.

An hour later, the phone rang. It was Rich calling from the

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