I Divorced the Preacher and Became a Pariah—And That Was Just the Beginning

They didn’t burn me at the stake, but they sure as hell tried to freeze me out.

The day I divorced the preacher, I might as well have been excommunicated. Not officially, of course, but let’s just say my church community suddenly lost their ability to make eye contact with me in the produce aisle. If they spotted me near the bananas, they’d bolt for the dairy section. If I reached for a loaf of bread, they suddenly had a deep, urge…