This is a fictional work based on real life events. Though I have taken some liberties with the lives of those mentioned in the Bible, I have done my best to portray the love and character of our Lord and His deep desire to help us heal. There are a few graphic scenes that some may find hard to read. But life in the world without Jesus is much harder than anything you will read on these pages. And sometimes our choices make it even worse. Obviously, to cover so many years, numerous details had to be left out and the most horrible have been omitted. To understand the enormity of the miracles that take place, you must understand the character’s immensely dysfunctional life.

A life, not of joys and sorrows, but of abuse and pain and wounds so deep that you wear them like garments. A life where criticism, discouragement and neglect are the norm.  Where understanding, compassion and most of all, love, are given out sparingly, if at all.  A life where what you do and how well you do it determines your worthiness of attention. And if you don’t do a job well, then prepare yourself for the wrath or sometimes worse, the silence.  Days go by without a word—ignored—as if you don’t exist.  If you try to speak during this time, you will only hear, “Go away!  I want nothing to do with you!  You are an embarrassment! You are good for nothing! I disown you as my daughter!” Then there are the nights.  Never feeling safe because you don’t know who might come into your room.  Or what they might do.  The shame and fear are devastating.

How does a little child endure that kind of pain?  What does she learn that she carries with her into adulthood?  What coping mechanisms does she integrate into her personality so that when she becomes a woman, she can put on her mask and pretend she is “normal?”  The answer lies deep inside the recesses of the brain—a place many of us consider “safe” because it’s where we escape the anguish we experience in our lives.  A dark, hidden, secret place where “all is well” and where the birthplace of denial and codependency are found.  A place I hope to take you.

My prayer is that you may hear some morsel of familiarity that would cause you to seek the one who can release you from that place.  The only one who can bring you back.  The one who knows no darkness, but is willing to rescue you from yours. The one who allowed himself to be wounded long ago so that he could understand how you acquired your wounds, and more importantly, why you won’t let them go.