My book is in a state of half doneness as my creativity waxes and wanes. I constantly question my motivation for its existence; abandoning and re-engaging.  It is an ugly subject, one that I’d just as soon divest myself from.  I’d like to continue to pretend it doesn’t exist, I wasn’t part of it, perpetuate the secrecy that surrounds it.  Keep it behind closed doors and keep the ‘me’ I’ve created for all to see plainly visible so I can continue to hide the pain, the embarassment, the shame of being abused, of being a victim.  Yet through my experiences it has been exposed – I have been exposed.  I stood naked, figuratively and literally, in front of a huge audience and it was impossible to play the part I’d acted anymore.  The layers unravel, the core exposed.  The same person who imprisoned me set me free.  I don’t know if that person is him, in his final act, or me in my attempt to reclaim my life from the ruins of his.  I only know it is possible, whereby before it seemed so impossible.

So when I sit down to write, in this chair which holds such pain, I pray.  If you want me to be the light, give me the candle. If you want me to be heard, give me the voice.  If you want me to lead, show me the way.  If you want me to reach out, hold my hand, tightly.  Never let me go.

The Lord Be With You….and with thy spirit.  Lift Up Your Hearts…..we lift them up unto the Lord.

“Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. ‘You of little faith,’ he said, ‘why did you doubt?'” Matthew 14:31 (NIV)