Oh, dear questioning souls, how the digital queries pour in like unwelcome emails from shadowy realms! Today, a weary wife writes:
“My husband ran away with his lover, and I can’t shake the feeling that it’s all my fault. What should I do to find my peace?”
Weary Wife, thank you much for writing in to my blog. And you’re welcome for being featured. Well, listen closely, sister—after prayerful pondering in my quiet town haven (where locals still admire my poise over coffee with HOA elites), I finally have thought of the perfect reply.
I am so sorry that you are worried about this being an issue. It must be so hard for you to have to process that it is probably your fault. Husbands don’t just scamper off with temptresses unless the home has gone cold from neglect or nagging. Perhaps you skimped on that submissive spirit, or let your wardrobe wander into pant-wearing rebellion (we all know skirts honor the Lord better!). Sit there, I say—plop down in a chair of contemplation and think about what you’ve done. Mull over every snippy word, every overlooked dinner, every time you prioritized your “freedoms” over familial fidelity. No rushing to forgiveness or fresh starts; wallow in that self-reflection like a spiritual soak in a tub of truth. It’ll toughen you up, or at least keep you from repeating the same silly sins.
Now, let’s turn to the Good Book for guidance, as always my unerring compass. Consider Proverbs 14:1: “The wise woman builds her house, but with her own hands the foolish one tears hers down.” See? Crystal clear—if your house is in ruins with hubby hightailing it to a harlot, you’ve been playing the fool, dismantling your domain with your own deeds! Wise up and rebuild by beating yourself up a bit more; that’s the path to piety.
You have to get your husband back. You simply cannot sit around and be a floozy and go to marijuana parties and singles clubs.
And don’t overlook Matthew 7:3-5: “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? … First take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s.” Oh, the profound poetry of the gospel. This isn’t about excusing his adultery. It’s finding the right fitting to proceed to the future of the greater light. Foolish! Focus on your flaws until you’re blind to his betrayal; that’ll fix everything, or at least leave you too exhausted to chase after him.
For practical piety, here’s my sage suggestion: Craft a symbolic doll of yourself, Stuff it with scraps of your regrets (like those fishnet stockings and pants you wore to alcohol parties instead of being and taking care of your husband) then stare at it daily as a reminder of your what you’ve done. No therapy or talks or all of that progressive nonsense. If he comes crawling back, make him earn it by confessing your faults first—ha, that’ll teach the cad!
Mercy to those who heed this, and may Psalms 91 shield you from further folly. Dash to my TikTok (@LauraPrayerLady) for more bite-sized blasts of wisdom, or revisit past posts for doll deals. Amen, with a side of sternness.
And should you fancy luring the wayward wanderer husband back home these effective strategies are drawn straight from the Bible’s wisdom on reclaiming the lost, for Scripture speaks of such matters with cats in mind. Behold Luke 15:4: “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it?”
Scatter his things about: Leave out a plate of his beloved meatloaf or brew that coffee he craves, right on the porch like a tempting trap. Let the aroma waft like a siren’s call, reminding him of the comforts he foolishly fled—your cooking, not some floozy’s!
Keep the gateway ajar: Prop the front door open just a crack during twilight hours, with a light on inside. No need for locks; let him slink back in shame, much like a guilty tomcat sneaking through the flap after a night of prowling.
Spread the word with signs: Pin up posters around the neighborhood—nothing flashy, just “Lost Husband.” Neighbors will discuss, and it will draw him out.
Call his name in the night: Step outside at dusk and holler his name with a mix of prayer and scolding, like summoning a kitty from the bushes. Add a Bible verse for bite: “Return, oh prodigal pest!” Persistence pays; he’ll hear and heed eventually.
Deploy familiar scents of submission: Place his old slippers or a shirt you’ve worn (modestly, in a skirt, of course) near the entryway. The whiff of home—and your dutiful essence—will tug at his stray heartstrings, far better than any harlot’s perfume.
With enduring exasperation,
Laura the Prayer Lady
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