Behind closed doors, I knew another man entirely: a man who struck me, who betrayed me, who left me in fear. Over time, those shadows hollowed me out from the inside until I no longer recognized myself. And yet, even in that hollowing, I pray I have heard God rightly in telling the truth of what I lived.
Would you like to add truth to your darkness? I welcome your truth here. There’s a particular ache that comes with being a mother in later years, carrying truths you’ve never spoken aloud. Silence is heavy — sometimes heavier than the pain itself. For decades I stayed...
Writing my memoir wasn’t just about editing costs or cover design. The real cost was emotional, relational, and spiritual. It has taken a toll, but I believe this: truth is always worth more than the pain it takes to tell it.
Have you ever carried a story that surprised you once you began to share it?