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I don't think I heard a word of the sermon that Sunday. The whole morning seemed to move in slow motion. I didn't greet my friends with the excitement typical of a college student home for the weekend. I was more like a zombie. My family sat together in our usual row, each of us dreading what was to come. As we stood for the reading of Scripture, my mind returned to a hot and humid morning in May several months before …

I had just finished my freshman year of college. I had only two weeks to spend with my family before heading off to a summer missions project. I was busy unpacking and re-packing when my dad told me he needed to talk to me about something.

We walked outside, and as he leaned against my car, the look in his eyes told me he had something very serious to say. Standing in uncomfortable silence, I tried to anticipate what that something might be. My heart quickened as tears choked his efforts to speak. He must be dying, I thought.

"Haley is your sister," he said through his tears.

My expression changed from fear to shock.

My dad said all he needed to say. In that one sentence he told me his friendship with a co-worker had been more than friendship, and as a result, I had a 2-year-old sister.

My mind reeled. I had babysat her when she was a baby.

"Does Mom know?" I asked.

"Yes, she's known for a while," he explained. "We waited to tell you because we didn't want you to have to deal with this while you were away at school.

"You probably won't want to talk to me very much," he said. "But I want you to know you can say whatever you need to say to work through this."

At that point I couldn't imagine not wanting to talk to him, and I certainly didn't want to say hurtful things. I could see he was in enough pain already.

I pulled him close and hugged him fiercely, wanting him to know I still loved him.

"Daddy, I forgive you," I said. "If I couldn't forgive you, then I wouldn't deserve forgiveness."

I meant what I said. But I had yet to experience the hurt and the bitterness of betrayal. I was still in shock. So I really couldn't understand what forgiving him meant.

I went on to the missions project and had a good summer. But all the while I was trying to ignore questions which left me feeling uneasy. How could he? was usually the one that got me started. Then I'd begin thinking about God's punishment. How is God going to punish Daddy? Will he punish me, too?

Sometimes I'd think about my little sister. Her life can't be a mistake, can it? Then was her birth a part of God's plan?

When I headed back to school in the fall, I was still trying so hard to be strong, despite the questions that clouded my mind. I read that "all things work together for good" (Romans 8:28) and assumed God could somehow use the experience in my ministry to others. I told myself the pain would make me stronger, so I should be joyful. I didn't know it was OK for me to hurt first and maybe even get a little angry. So I bottled up everything inside.

Then one night as I was attempting to study in the library, I reached the breaking point. I was staring at pages of notes, but not really seeing any words, when it hit me: My dad had an affair, and I have a little sister. A forceful tide of emotion swept over me when, as if for the first time, I acknowledged the reality of the situation. I jumped up from my seat and began to run toward the door, afraid I wouldn't make it before the tears began to gush.

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