I still remember the evening as I watched my two girlfriends squirm. They sat across from me in a cozy living room among a small gathering of friends. I knew they had something important to say. We waited as they struggled to control their emotions so they could speak.

These two women were very close. I remember feeling excitement when their friendship began; they had much fun together. Having had several close friendships with women over the years, I knew the importance of such relationships. As time progressed, however, I grew concerned about their “closeness.” These gals were not just spending time together; they were spending every possible waking moment together. And if they couldn’t be together in person, they talked on the telephone, often up to five times a day. Consequently, I worried that their families and responsibilities were being neglected. I also wondered about the intensity behind their emotional closeness.

While I don’t recall the exact words shared that night, I do remember how hard it was for each of them to confess and articulate the struggle emerging in their friendship. They believed God had gifted them with each other’s companionship. They truly treasured and loved one another. But they also admitted they were crossing physical boundaries: their relationship had become sexual. This left them confused and extremely frightened. They were unsure of themselves, their friendship, and their relationship with God. They asked for our help.

In reflection, I am amazed at the courage of these women that evening. They were completely open and honest about their confusion and struggle without knowing how we would react. They took an incredible risk. While we may not have been perfect in our response, as a group of friends we did our best to show them our care and support. I have since heard of many horror stories of women in similar situations. They genuinely reached out to their friends, clergy, family members, and even counselors for help and understanding, only to be met with shock, anger, judgment, or referral. It breaks my heart when I see the impact of these confrontations.

As I listened to my girl friends, I admit I was filled with questions. I wasn’t sure what I believed. I knew they were both deeply spiritual women. They were full of integrity and sought to live lives of service for the sake of God’s Kingdom. What caused them to become sexually involved? Can Christian’s be gay? Should they continue to be friends? What did they believe?

Although I was compassionate with them, I was also extremely impatient. Their confession had impacted me, and I wanted relief from my stress and confusion over their situation. I thought if I could understand them better, maybe I would ultimately feel better. My energy was obviously more focused on my conflict and turmoil than their personal hearts and journeys. Fortunately, these women were full of compassion and patience towards me.

Within the next week, on a beautiful sunny day in the Colorado Rockies, one of these friends and I went for a hike. We both loved the outdoors and enjoyed the opportunity for exercise. The sun beat down on our shoulders as we listened to the wildlife chirping in the distance. But what I recall most about the hike is my incessant questioning. I asked my friend one “why” question after another. She used the word lesbian – a word I insisted did not fit her. I asked why she would use such a label. I probed, dug, interrogated, and debated. My poor friend was so gracious. She answered what she could. Otherwise she simply and honestly said, “Janelle, I don’t know.”

In my search for understanding I eventually became involved with a local Exodus Referral organization that existed to support and help people impacted by homosexuality or bisexuality. After reading, learning and working as a support group leader within the organization, I decided to secure my counseling credentials to work with the women in a professional setting. I did not have a clear picture of how therapy would differ from a support group format, but I sensed the women would benefit from a therapeutic one-on-one encounter.

When I began my counseling internship, a comprehensive publication for understanding and treating women struggling with same-sex attractions did not exist. At that time, material was being published on male homosexuality, but little could be found for the women and their counselors. Fortunately, I did know of several other therapists specializing in this area, but they were also at the beginning of their professional careers. We would periodically “check-in” with one another, but for years floundered in our ability to articulate a practical framework for the treatment process.

The bulk of my learning came after graduate school through firsthand experience with my clients. The mountain trail conversation with my girlfriend was repeated time and time again as I asked questions and was allowed into the hearts of many other women who were on a similar journey. My clients were and still are patient and willing to teach me, and I am grateful. They have painstakingly painted detailed pictures with their words, stories, sorrows and joys, gifting me with glimpses of their world. It is these glimpses and the understanding gained that I attempted to document in my book. I hope I did so in a way that showers them with the respect and love that they deserve.