I was raised in the Baptist church... but I didn't really have a real committed experience with Christ until my father died.

When we enter the gates of pain and use the healing power of memory, we will hear God speaking, and we can take comfort and rest our weary souls in his crazy, holy grace.

You've been a good steward of it. You've been a good steward of your pain.

Under the guidance of the Spirit every trial enriches the soul... He best heals wounds who has felt a similar wound.

Every sorrow is really the "Shade of His Hand outstretched caressingly."

So when it came to role models, I looked at presidents' wives. Of course, you're talking about a farm girl who stood in the fields, dreaming, years ago, wishing she was that kind of person. But if I had been that kind of person, do you think I could sing with the emotions I do? You sing with those emotions because you've had pain in your heart.

Blessed be those that mourn, for they shall be comforted. Nobody said when.

But some people can't tell where it hurts. They can't calm down. They can't ever stop howling.

Blessed be those that mourn, for they shall be comforted. Nobody said when.

Why cry, you should be happy, you got out. But after all that's happened to me since that day, I understand why. You hold it in, whatever it is, until you can make it through the worst part. Then, once you're safe, you can cry all the tears you couldn't waste time crying before.

I've cut myself off. I can feel the place where I used o be attached. It's raw, as when you grate your finger. It's a shredded mess of images. It hurts. But where exactly on me is this torn-off stem? Now here, now there. Meanwhile the other girl, the one with the memory, is coming nearer and nearer. She's catching up to me, trailing behind her, like red smoke, the rope we share.

I am so thankful I had the strength and promises of a loving God to guide my choices and decisions, and to uphold me through the unbelievably dark days and times of overwhelming sorrow.