Fostering HopeНамуна

REDEMPTION

Through the thin walls, she could hear the screaming of her step-dad. Cursing. Crashing. Drunken rage being taken out yet again on her family. She wished she could disappear. Wanted to die. That seemed so much more peaceful a place. But not an option - not to her. Her eyes swept across the tiny bedroom, searching for something to relieve the pain. She reached for a nearby wooden pencil. Its eraser was long gone, and the bent metal end provided an avenue for the escape she was so desperate to find. The aluminum cut into her skin, etching the first letters of a message - HATE - onto her side. Tears from the pain of the cut mixed with tears from the pain in her heart and rolled down her cheeks. Then, her soul quieted, as her heavenly Papa gathered her into his arms and held her close. His voice, His truth flooded her mind, and spilled out onto the worn notebook lying beside her bed. 'I know you, I love you. I liberate you, I light your path. I provide you with friends and a way out when you are stuck. I'm your healer and your guide. You are valuable, you have a future. You are my precious daughter' The pencil, a tool Satan meant for evil, God used for good. The same pencil that started off destructive, making temporary imprints in her flesh, God used to carve a permanent note of redemption on her heart.