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A few years ago, when my husband and I were in the process of purchasing our first home, I received a disturbing call from our mortgage broker. He informed me that our credit report had come back with some derogatory information. It showed a string of delinquent credit card bills and other expenditures listed under my name. The mortgage broker suspected identity theft because he noticed that on the same report we were paying our other accounts on time and in full. He advised me to get a copy of the report and contact each creditor to investigate the situation.

I obtained a copy of our credit report and began making calls. The first credit manager I spoke to responded suspiciously when I explained to him that the charges were not mine and that I did not live in Stockton, California, as the credit report indicated.

"Are you sure you don't live in Stockton?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," I replied.

"Well maybe you and your husband are separated and now you're living in Stockton," he said with an accusing tone.

"No," I answered emphatically, "I am not separated, and I didn't make those charges." I felt my patience dwindling. Apparently, I was considered guilty until I could prove my innocence.

Before I made another call, I decided to talk to my husband about what had happened. He suggested that we both pray about the situation. "First let's put things in God's hands," he said. I knew he was right. God had always taken care of us, and I knew He would do the same in this vexing situation as well.

The next day, before I started making my calls, my husband and I prayed again. With a renewed faith and a calmer spirit, I picked up the phone and made another call. My conversation with this credit manager went much better. She assured me that they would do all they could to resolve the issue as quickly as possible. The rest of my calls also went smoothly. Two months later, all three of the creditors had sent letters to the credit-reporting agencies absolving me of any responsibility for the accounts.

Things were wrapping up nicely, and we were about to move into our new home when we were surprised by another bill. We were days away from closing on our house and there was no time to go through the process again. We were faced with the choice of paying the bill or losing the funding on our mortgage. After talking it over, we decided it was best to simply pay the bill.

I learned from one of the credit managers that the woman who had stolen my identity had worked in the admissions office of the local university from which I had graduated the year before. She had also been a neighbor. That is how she knew my name and address. With that information, and access to my college records, she was able to obtain my Social Security number—the critical piece of information she needed to start applying for credit in my name.

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