A Turn

“Well, then, I resign.”

I overheard these words in a church parking lot when I was 15-almost-16.

It seems like a dream; like I totally invented it.  Truth is: it could be.

But since I had no clue that this overheard line would shape the rest of my life, I don’t think I invented this issue.

The person’s lips through which these words were spoken could not have known the impact that moment would have on my awakening life.  That person could not have possibly comprehended the immense respect he would earn from my soon-broken heart. I could never have known that I’d spend one-third of my life grieving that moment and would wait until I had gotten comfortable with 24 years of age before the pain caused at that moment would be jerked away by the very savior I had entrusted with my life just a few years earlier.


It was intense.

It still is.

But I’m stronger.

And I’ve learned.

That humans, even with the best intentions, can be horribly, relentlessly jerkfaced.  That forgiveness is not saying, “It’s okay.”  That healing is a long–usually painstakingly torturous–process.  That amazing lessons come from deep pain.  That the Christ-derived love of humans helps healing progress.  And that this love can sometimes spark emotional healing.

And also that pain can use up a heart’s love space.

All healed up,


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