It is our wedding anniversary in the coming week. Next to my baptism,  our wedding day was the happiest day of my life. I’m supposed to say the birth of my children, aren’t I? But actually that is dishonest. I don’t remember my first child’s birth as happy, exactly, it was more overwhelming than anything else. Coerced into marriage, coerced into giving up contraception, finding out I was pregnant within a month of marriage, giving birth at just 22 years old… none of these things added up to it ranking among the happiest days of my life, however much I subsequently came to love my son.

But after all those years of quiet despair, believing that divorce was wrong and that therefore, somehow, being abused and beaten was God’s will (what else does one conclude when one hears the absolute ‘God hates divorce’ with nothing more?), I remarried. God hates divorce. Good, because God is love and divorce does not happen when there is love. God hates lying, too, and judging others, and failing to do something for someone else who needed it because it wasn’t convenient for me, and having murderous thoughts when that person pulls in front of me at reckless speed on the motorway…

I have never been happier than the day I married Frank. He’s my hero: God-given, God-blessed, my best friend, my lover, my confidant. Thank you, Frank.