from the book

“Chapter 1 My Father’s Betrayal “Father,” I prayed, “You know the darkness I feel from my parents. Be my light today. Honor this obedience. ” Jerry added his Amen. I massaged my throbbing forehead. We pulled to a stop at Route 34, just south of Halesburg. It was July 1997. My husband and I had driven north, through the cornfields of central Illinois, for our yearly visit to the family farm. I rummaged through the glove box, found two Tylenol Extra Strength, and washed them down I leaned my head against the seat back. “My father thinks I’m stupid because I grow flowers rather than tomatoes. ” I stared at the green cornstalks in the fields. “And has my mother ever asked me a question about my life? ” “Yeah, that’s them,” Jerry said. As he glanced at me, God’s compassion shone in his gray eyes. In our twenty-five years together, Jerry had often seemed to me like the incarnation of Jesus. He even looked a little like I imagined Jesus to look: tall, with strong features and gentle hands. “I don’t think I’ve talked to them more than twice this year. And once was three weeks ago when I called to set up this visit. ” I ran my fingers through my short brown hair as I gazed at the mobile home park on the south edge of town, bigger now than I remembered. Jerry squeezed my shoulder. I smiled at him.”