After ordering our food, my mom presented me with a plain Manila envelope. I pulled out a red piece of card stock paper with fancy fonts. I noticed my name, too. At first it looked like a letter. Then my mom began to explain the concept of the purity ring.
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I stood in front of the mirror until I spent all my tears. My gut felt the urge to tell somebody. Mine wouldn’t be a thrilling story to tell. This much I knew. I didn’t quite realize it then, but who I told this story to and how would haunt me for over a decade.
Before I felt ready, my friend’s reflection appeared next to mine. My face felt puffy and warm. I could see redness around my eyes from crying. Perhaps to her I just looked tired. She, however, looked radiant having just got back from an all night excapade.
“How was your night?” She asked with her always there grin.
“Well, we had sex.” My hushed voice seemed to carry so much further in the quiet hours of early morning. My friend squealed in excitement for me. So, I should be excited, too. The old me seemed to be leaving. I could feel myself trying to figure out how to frame what happened to me as she continued telling me about her own wild night.
I glanced down at my purity ring.
Guilt came crashing down on me like a monster chasing after its prey. My sinful actions engulfed me. It’s all I could feel, really. I looked down at my 18 karat Black Hills gold ring circling my left ring finger. Three years ago my parents took me out to my favorite restaurant. Only me. I felt special. We sat down in the elegant dining room, me sitting across from my parents. My mom seemed a bit nervous and excited. Whatever the occasion, she’d been planning this.
After ordering our food, my mom presented me with a plain Manila envelope. I pulled out a red piece of card stock paper with fancy fonts. I noticed my name, too. At first it looked like a letter.
Then my mom began to explain the concept of the purity ring.
My purity ring shows three hearts, one in the middle and the two on either side that turned on their side, as if facing the middle heart.
“These hearts are ours,” my mom said, pointing to the two outside hearts. “It’s our job to protect you and guide you.” Somehow God’s protection fell into the mix but I don’t remember how. This purity ring and contract represented protection. I received a clear message from this intense ceremony: Sex is a really really big deal.
And now, looking down at my hand on the bathroom counter, I thought about my broken promises. I knew I fucked up real good and I could either hide from the fall out or face it.
Ultimately I chose to blow my big secret wide open. But I couldn’t decide what to do about my purity ring.
Hours later I sat in a circle with about 15 other students and staff from my church youth group. Our campfire blazed bright and strong, keeping us warm in the cool of night. After months of planning and raising money for this mission’s trip in Alaska, our departure day arrived. And I chose this day to commit the most un-Christian sin.
Like any other trip, we commenced with sharing around the fire. I could feel guilt boiling upwards inside of me. I twisted my purity ring on my finger over and over again. Guilt feels a bit frenetic to me. I can’t see quite straight until I’ve done some kind of purge. But I tried to push it down anyways. Even though I trusted the people sitting next to me most in the world, this secret was too big, too shameful.
In my circle of trust sat Tristan, my youth pastor and my little brother, Jerry. Both Veronicas sat by me though they usually preferred their nick names: V and Vern. Brittany was one of our youth group leaders and it wasn’t a huge secret she had a major crush on Tristan. Most girls did. Sigh, including me for a confusing, brief period of time. Like him, I constantly kept a look out for a potential love interest in most groups I participated in. But not tonight.
I threw a life line out to see it anyone would catch it and be able to reel my back from the depths of my sin.
I felt like a complete hypocrite sitting with my church friends after spreading my legs for a boy hours earlier. How could I? My thoughts raced together while I tried to center them on anything other than me. But no. Guilt wanted a good first purge. She convinced me the key to feeling better is to tell everyone at once. Rip open the bandaid, come what may. It’s the Christian thing to do, after all.
I could feel my moment to share coming, my heart beat a little harder, my pulse punched a bit quicker. With sweaty palms and a tight chest, my brain focused on getting one sentence out: I had sex.
“I had sex.”
The tears fell, my shoulders shook and all eyes maneuvered to me.
I chose to pour rubbing alcohol into an already fresh wound in hopes of healing my sin and helping someone else feel less alone in their own mess. To me, this is what the real Christians do. Somehow I knew the importance of talking about these things. I aimed to confess my sins quickly, learn from them, and grow. Like a good Christian.
I would one day remove my purity ring for good, but not this day.
I told them about my secret life, essentially. How I regularly snuck out of my house to get drunk and party all night with my work friends. Then I told them about giving up my virginity earlier that day. As words tumbled out of my mouth, my body began to shake and I sobbed into my hands. My friends wrapped their arms around me. Most of the others fixed their stare at the fire. It took me a few minutes to realize Jerry left the group. I looked around and saw him behind me, breathing slowly and deeply into a brown paper bag.
My indelicate confessional likely traumatized my little brother. I’m disappointed to say we never did reconcile that night together. I believe I hurt him deeply. And you know what, perhaps my disclosure was ultimately selfish. Perhaps I relished the attention any way I could get it. Who cares who might get hurt on the sidelines.
Or maybe I was just a kid grappling with something bad that happened to me.
During my confession I asked if I should be going on this trip anymore. The group, the leadership, all agreed I should go. We all make mistakes. God promises to forgive us when we confess. And I did all that. I am forgiven now. With forgiveness comes healing, right? So, with fresh fervor to live the righteous life, I went on the trip as planned. The confession rid me of my guilt, didn’t take away my Christian ticket, and gave me a story to share that would impact others for Jesus.
Okay, I can’t even write this with a straight face.
You better believe I found a romantic interest among my fellow counselors within my first day of arriving at camp. He and I talked alone often enough that had he initiated sex at all, I likely would have gone all in, legs freely open.
My wound still lay wide open, fresh, bleeding.
And nobody seemed to notice.
This story is one part of a book I wrote called Freedom Between the Sheets. As I edit my first draft of all 11 chapters, I am publishing the stories for free right here. I hope to take these stories and publish them one day and for build a course. Your feed back is important me. Please comment below.
Start at the beginning of Freedom Between The Sheets here.
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That’s a wonderful thing that your parents tried to do. You are lucky to have them.
They did their past with the tools they had.