{"id":40779,"date":"2026-04-09T14:49:39","date_gmt":"2026-04-09T14:49:39","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779"},"modified":"2026-04-09T14:50:03","modified_gmt":"2026-04-09T14:50:03","slug":"i-married-a-woman-39-years-older-and-what-happened-at-our-wedding-silenced-the-whole-town","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779","title":{"rendered":"I Married a Woman 39 Years Older\u2014And What Happened at Our Wedding Silenced the Whole Town"},"content":{"rendered":"

Part 1<\/strong><\/p>\n

My name is Ethan Cole, and if you had asked anyone in Maple Creek, Iowa, what they thought of me six months ago, they would have said the same thing with a sneer.<\/p>\n

That I was the shameless young man who trapped a rich old widow.<\/p>\n

I was twenty-seven when I married Margaret Whitmore, a woman nearly four decades older than me. She was sixty-six, elegant, sharp-minded, and once one of the most respected literature teachers in our county. After her husband died and her daughter passed away two years later in a highway accident, she became a quiet figure behind lace curtains, the kind neighbors pitied in public and ignored in private.<\/p>\n

Then I came along, and suddenly their pity turned into poison.<\/p>\n

I had moved to town with a toolbox, an old pickup, and a shoulder that still ached when it rained. I rented a cramped room above a hardware store and picked up construction jobs wherever I could. I was the kind of man people barely noticed unless something went wrong. Margaret first hired me to fix the loose steps on her back porch. Then I patched a leak over her kitchen window. A week later, I repainted her fence after a storm ripped half the boards loose.<\/p>\n

We started talking between jobs. At first it was simple things\u2014books, weather, the town, her roses, my work. Then it became longer conversations over coffee. She listened in a way few people ever had. Not politely. Not absentmindedly. She really listened. For a man who had spent most of his life being dismissed, that mattered more than I can explain.<\/p>\n

But Maple Creek noticed.<\/p>\n

They saw my truck in her driveway after dark when I stayed late finishing repairs. They saw us buying groceries together. They saw me carrying bags into her house after church donations were dropped off. Then they saw me helping her down the courthouse steps with my hand on her waist, and from that moment the rumors caught fire.<\/p>\n

Gold digger. Fraud. Opportunist.<\/p>\n

One afternoon outside Miller\u2019s Diner, a man shoved me hard in the chest and laughed in my face. \u201cHow much is she worth, boy?\u201d he asked while two others stood there grinning. I didn\u2019t hit him. I should have walked away sooner, but humiliation burns hotter when a whole town is watching. Margaret found out later and begged me not to let them drag me down to their level.<\/p>\n

When we announced our engagement, the town exploded. People I had never even met suddenly had opinions about my heart, my motives, and my future. They said Margaret was lonely, confused, vulnerable. They said I was playing the long game for her house, her land, and her savings.<\/p>\n

On our wedding day, half the town crowded into Margaret\u2019s yard pretending they had come out of support. I could feel their judgment before I ever touched the microphone. Margaret stood beside me in a pale blue dress, her hand trembling in mine.<\/p>\n

Then I saw someone at the back of the crowd\u2014a man I had prayed never to see again.<\/p>\n

And the second our eyes met, I knew this wedding was about to tear open the one secret that could destroy us both.<\/p>\n

Part 2<\/strong><\/p>\n

I froze with the microphone in my hand.<\/p>\n

At first, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. The sun was brutal, the yard was packed, and faces blurred together beneath hats and borrowed smiles. But when the man stepped sideways near the fence, I saw him clearly.<\/p>\n

Caleb Mercer.<\/p>\n

The last time I had seen Caleb, I was nineteen years old, bleeding from the mouth, pinned against a concrete wall behind a mechanic shop three counties away.<\/p>\n

My throat tightened so fast I could barely breathe. Margaret glanced at me, and I knew she felt the change in my hand. Her fingers squeezed mine once, small and steady, but the panic was already moving through me like poison. Caleb had the same heavy shoulders, the same crooked nose, the same dead-eyed stare of a man who enjoyed watching fear settle into someone else\u2019s body.<\/p>\n

I lowered the microphone.<\/p>\n

\u201cEthan?\u201d Margaret whispered.<\/p>\n

I should have told her everything earlier. I had told her pieces, fragments, enough for her to understand that my past was ugly and that I had left another state for a reason. But I had never given her Caleb\u2019s name. Never told her what he and his brother did to me after my mother died and I got shuffled between relatives and bad apartments. Never told her how they used me when I was broke, hungry, and stupid enough to believe loyalty could keep me safe.<\/p>\n

Caleb knew better. Caleb taught me what pain was.<\/p>\n

He made me work unpaid jobs under the table, then accused me of stealing if I asked for money. He hit first and talked later. Once, when I said I was leaving for good, he slammed my arm in a truck door so hard I thought the bone had split. Another time he kicked me in the ribs until I couldn\u2019t stand straight for a week. The scar at my hairline? Caleb smashed a beer bottle over my head behind Murphy\u2019s Auto because I \u201clooked ungrateful.\u201d<\/p>\n

I ran after that.<\/p>\n

I changed cities, changed jobs, kept my head down, and tried to build a life no one could touch. Then Margaret found me half-starved in every way a person can be half-starved. She gave me work, then dignity, then something even more dangerous\u2014peace. Not pity. Not charity. Peace.<\/p>\n

And now Caleb was standing at my wedding.<\/p>\n

People in the crowd were starting to notice the silence. The whispers rose again, but this time they weren\u2019t about the age gap. They were about me. Why I looked pale. Why I wasn\u2019t speaking. Why the groom looked like he had seen a ghost.<\/p>\n

Caleb smiled.<\/p>\n

Then he started clapping.<\/p>\n

Slow. Mocking. Deliberate.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell?\u201d he called out. \u201cAren\u2019t you going to tell them the truth?\u201d<\/p>\n

Margaret stepped half in front of me. \u201cYou need to leave.\u201d<\/p>\n

He ignored her. \u201cAsk your husband where he came from. Ask him why he really ran. Ask him what kind of man marries into money after disappearing with nobody knowing his real story.\u201d<\/p>\n

Several people turned toward me at once. I could feel their suspicion shift, sharpen, become hungry. This was all they had ever wanted\u2014proof that their cruelty had been justified.<\/p>\n

I should have stayed quiet. I should have let the day die with dignity. But some wounds get tired of being covered.<\/p>\n

So I raised the microphone again.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy name is Ethan Cole,\u201d I said, my voice rough. \u201cAnd yes, there are things about my past this town doesn\u2019t know. But the man back there? He\u2019s one of the reasons.\u201d<\/p>\n

Caleb took a few steps forward. \u201cCareful.\u201d<\/p>\n

I laughed once, bitter and dry. \u201cYou always say that before you hurt somebody.\u201d<\/p>\n

A shock moved through the crowd. Margaret didn\u2019t flinch. She just stayed beside me.<\/p>\n

I told them enough. Not everything, but enough. That I had grown up around men who used fists like punctuation. That I had been threatened, beaten, and controlled. That I left because staying would have either buried me or turned me into someone I hated. I told them Margaret never chased me, never manipulated me, never \u201csaved\u201d me like some grand fairytale. She simply treated me like a human being when I had almost forgotten what that felt like.<\/p>\n

Caleb laughed again and walked straight up the aisle between the chairs.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou ungrateful little liar.\u201d<\/p>\n

Before anyone could stop him, he grabbed the front of my jacket and drove his fist into my jaw.<\/p>\n

I stumbled sideways into a row of white folding chairs. Guests screamed. Margaret shouted my name. A second blow glanced off my cheekbone before I shoved him back with both hands. He came at me again, wild and hard, and this time we crashed into the plywood arch Margaret\u2019s neighbor had built for the ceremony. Flowers snapped loose. Wood cracked. Someone yelled for the sheriff.<\/p>\n

Then Caleb reached toward Margaret.<\/p>\n

And that was the moment the whole town finally understood who the real predator was.<\/p>\n

Part 3<\/strong><\/p>\n

When Caleb lunged toward Margaret, something in me broke loose.<\/p>\n

I caught his wrist before he could touch her and twisted hard enough to throw him off balance. He swung with his free hand and clipped the side of my head, but I drove my shoulder into his chest and slammed him backward onto the grass. The guests scattered in every direction, chairs tipping, flower jars shattering, people shouting over one another as if the whole yard had become a storm.<\/p>\n

Caleb rolled fast, faster than I expected, and came up on one knee. He grabbed a broken piece of the ceremony arch, a jagged length of wood about as long as a bat. I stepped in front of Margaret without thinking. My jaw throbbed. I could taste blood.<\/p>\n

\u201cStay back,\u201d I told her.<\/p>\n

Caleb spat into the grass. \u201cYou think they\u2019ll believe you now?\u201d<\/p>\n

But they had already seen enough.<\/p>\n

They had seen him strike me first. Seen him push toward Margaret. Seen the rage in him that didn\u2019t need explanation. The same people who had called me a parasite now looked at Caleb with the same horror I had carried for years. It would have been satisfying if I weren\u2019t so busy trying to stay on my feet.<\/p>\n

He swung the board at my ribs. I barely got my arm down in time to block it, and the impact sent a bolt of pain from my elbow to my shoulder. I rushed him before he could swing again. We collided near the cake table, knocking it sideways. The cake Margaret\u2019s church friends had baked slid off in one beautiful, tragic collapse. Caleb hit me twice in the side. I drove a fist into his stomach and another into his jaw. He staggered backward, tripped over a metal chair leg, and went down hard.<\/p>\n

Then three men from the crowd rushed in.<\/p>\n

One pinned Caleb\u2019s shoulders. Another kicked the broken board out of reach. A third held his legs while he cursed all of us with the kind of language that strips a room of any last illusion of decency. By then someone had already called the sheriff. Margaret came to me with trembling hands and pressed a napkin to the cut near my mouth. She was pale, but her voice was calm.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook at me,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

I did.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re here,\u201d she told me. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t get to take this day.\u201d<\/p>\n

That was the sentence that nearly broke me.<\/p>\n

Not because of the fight. Not because of the pain. Because she understood exactly what had just happened. Caleb hadn\u2019t come to object to the marriage. He had come to drag me back into fear, back into silence, back into the version of myself that believed I deserved whatever was done to me.<\/p>\n

The sheriff arrived within minutes and took statements right there in the ruined yard. And that was when the second truth came out\u2014the one I had not planned to share publicly.<\/p>\n

Margaret had known who I was before she ever hired me.<\/p>\n

Not my full story, not at first, but enough.<\/p>\n

Years earlier, when she was still teaching, she had volunteered at a county literacy program in the city where I grew up. I was one of the boys who came in smelling like motor oil and cigarettes, pretending I didn\u2019t care about books. She remembered me, not by my face at first, but by a sentence I had written in a workbook: I think some people are born too early for kindness and too late for luck.<\/em> She had never forgotten it.<\/p>\n

When I showed up at her house all those years later to repair her porch, she recognized my last name and then my eyes. She said nothing because she could see I was trying to outrun something. She just gave me honest work, a meal now and then, and room to breathe until I was ready to talk.<\/p>\n

That was the \u201cfortune\u201d people thought I was chasing.<\/p>\n

Not money.<\/p>\n

Not property.<\/p>\n

A person who had seen me when I was young, broken, and invisible\u2014and who still saw me as worth something.<\/p>\n

The sheriff took Caleb away in handcuffs after two guests confirmed he had crossed county lines looking for me. One woman, who had spent months whispering that I was after Margaret\u2019s bank account, actually cried while apologizing. Others couldn\u2019t even meet my eyes. I didn\u2019t need their shame. I had carried enough of other people\u2019s ugliness.<\/p>\n

An hour later, after the blood was cleaned up, after the broken chairs were restacked, after somebody salvaged what was left of the flowers, Margaret asked me a question.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you still want to marry me today?\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at the yard, at the wreckage, at the neighbors now standing in stunned silence, and then back at the woman who had given me back my life piece by piece.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I said. \u201cMore than ever.\u201d<\/p>\n

So we did.<\/p>\n

No music. No arch. No cake. Just the two of us standing in the grass while the late afternoon light turned gold around us. My lip was split. Her dress was smudged at the hem. But when I said my vows, they were the truest words I had ever spoken.<\/p>\n

If this story moved you, share it, comment your thoughts, and remember: kindness can save lives more than judgment ever will.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Part 1 My name is Ethan Cole, and if you had asked anyone in Maple Creek, Iowa, what they thought of me six months ago, they would have said the same thing with a sneer. That I was the shameless young man who trapped a rich old widow. I was twenty-seven when I married Margaret […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":40782,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-40779","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-purpose"],"yoast_head":"\nI Married a Woman 39 Years Older\u2014And What Happened at Our Wedding Silenced the Whole Town - Purposeful Days<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"I Married a Woman 39 Years Older\u2014And What Happened at Our Wedding Silenced the Whole Town - Purposeful Days\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Part 1 My name is Ethan Cole, and if you had asked anyone in Maple Creek, Iowa, what they thought of me six months ago, they would have said the same thing with a sneer. That I was the shameless young man who trapped a rich old widow. I was twenty-seven when I married Margaret […]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Purposeful Days\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2026-04-09T14:49:39+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2026-04-09T14:50:03+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/Woman_and_man_202604092147.jpeg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"1000\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"1000\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Phong Nguyen\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Phong Nguyen\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"11 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779\",\"name\":\"I Married a Woman 39 Years Older\u2014And What Happened at Our Wedding Silenced the Whole Town - Purposeful Days\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website\"},\"primaryImageOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779#primaryimage\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/Woman_and_man_202604092147.jpeg\",\"datePublished\":\"2026-04-09T14:49:39+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2026-04-09T14:50:03+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951\"},\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779#primaryimage\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/Woman_and_man_202604092147.jpeg\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/Woman_and_man_202604092147.jpeg\",\"width\":1000,\"height\":1000},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"I Married a Woman 39 Years Older\u2014And What Happened at Our Wedding Silenced the Whole Town\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/\",\"name\":\"Purposeful Days\",\"description\":\"\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":{\"@type\":\"PropertyValueSpecification\",\"valueRequired\":true,\"valueName\":\"search_term_string\"}}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951\",\"name\":\"Phong Nguyen\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"caption\":\"Phong Nguyen\"},\"sameAs\":[\"http:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\"],\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=3\"}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"I Married a Woman 39 Years Older\u2014And What Happened at Our Wedding Silenced the Whole Town - Purposeful Days","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"I Married a Woman 39 Years Older\u2014And What Happened at Our Wedding Silenced the Whole Town - Purposeful Days","og_description":"Part 1 My name is Ethan Cole, and if you had asked anyone in Maple Creek, Iowa, what they thought of me six months ago, they would have said the same thing with a sneer. That I was the shameless young man who trapped a rich old widow. I was twenty-seven when I married Margaret […]","og_url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779","og_site_name":"Purposeful Days","article_published_time":"2026-04-09T14:49:39+00:00","article_modified_time":"2026-04-09T14:50:03+00:00","og_image":[{"width":1000,"height":1000,"url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/Woman_and_man_202604092147.jpeg","type":"image\/jpeg"}],"author":"Phong Nguyen","twitter_card":"summary_large_image","twitter_misc":{"Written by":"Phong Nguyen","Est. reading time":"11 minutes"},"schema":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@graph":[{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779","name":"I Married a Woman 39 Years Older\u2014And What Happened at Our Wedding Silenced the Whole Town - Purposeful Days","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website"},"primaryImageOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779#primaryimage"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/Woman_and_man_202604092147.jpeg","datePublished":"2026-04-09T14:49:39+00:00","dateModified":"2026-04-09T14:50:03+00:00","author":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951"},"breadcrumb":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779"]}]},{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779#primaryimage","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/Woman_and_man_202604092147.jpeg","contentUrl":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/Woman_and_man_202604092147.jpeg","width":1000,"height":1000},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=40779#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"I Married a Woman 39 Years Older\u2014And What Happened at Our Wedding Silenced the Whole Town"}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/","name":"Purposeful Days","description":"","potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":{"@type":"PropertyValueSpecification","valueRequired":true,"valueName":"search_term_string"}}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Person","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951","name":"Phong Nguyen","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g","contentUrl":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g","caption":"Phong Nguyen"},"sameAs":["http:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org"],"url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=3"}]}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/40779","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=40779"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/40779\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":40785,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/40779\/revisions\/40785"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/40782"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=40779"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=40779"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=40779"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}