"The day my Mom died I called my husband...Then he began to tell me a story about my Mom. A story that I never knew about her before because she didn’t want me to know."
"Until a few years ago as December approached I would find myself starting to worry. Would everyone have a good time? Had I remembered everyone’s presents? Did the house look festive enough? Pressure and stress built up as the list of non-negotiable (as I saw it at the time) events filled my diary."
"People have the notion that since I am so often limping along, dragging my frazzled nerves behind me, God must not be real. If He was real, I would not be suffering so much."
I stared at her and she held out her arms for me. Me. The scary monster. She wanted me. The same person who frightened her, she was seeking comfort from.