Hope is the opposite of fear.

The first copy of my book, Courage in Patience, arrived on my doorstep yesterday. I arrived home to find it standing up on the end of our kitchen counter, where my husband had placed it. "It's BEEEEEEE-UUUUUUU-Ti-Ful!" I said, then I picked it up and held it close. Then I danced around, jumped up and down a bunch, and generally convinced my dogs that I am, indeed, crazy.
Getting to this point has not been without a sense of trepidation that trips me up ever so often. Had I allowed it to invade my thoughts as I danced around with the first copy of Courage in Patience that I've ever held in my hands, I suppose I might have fallen flat on my face.
You see, my book is "Telling." Courage in Patience is the story of Ashley, age 15, who has been sexually abused by her stepfather since age 9. When she finally works up the courage to tell her mother what has been going on, her mother turns her back on her, refusing to hear what she is saying. Even though Courage in Patience is not an autobiography or memoir, it is "Telling." And fellow survivors of sexual abuse, no matter what age they are, will identify with what I am saying here. "Telling" is excruciating. It feels like betrayal, which, I know, I know, is really ironic, seeing as how a child having her innocence stolen by a family member is the real betrayal.
Courage in Patience, though, is more-- much more-- than telling. It is a story of hope, not just for survivors of sexual abuse, but for anyone who has ever had to face their greatest fears and find out what they are made of.
It is that-- that HOPE-- that lifted me off the ground yesterday, high above my fears and scars-- and danced me across my kitchen.