When I was fourteen, I started 9th grade. I remember the threats beginning, promising pain and torture. I would be passing classes at school, and someone would whisper- get ready for the whale watching. I would get into history. A note would be on my desk, an my teacher would somehow insert the text of the note into the lesson. On the way home, reminders would come in the form of dead animals on my route, or blood written words on the sidewalks or posts. Sometimes a particular flower would be wrapped around the fence. The cult enjoyed their anticipation causing me fear. I was watched. And read. There was no escape. There had never been escape. And it was intolerable.

I remember my mom giving my sister and I a little money, then taking us to the local mall. We had three hours to shop and were to meet at a designated place/time for her to take us home.

I couldn’t. That was my loudest thought. I could not. Not anymore.

I knew I could not stay in town, they found me in 9 days last time. I decided to head north. Geography was very messed up by my training. So I decided to stay near the coast so I would not get turned around. I climbed the hill to the onramp for 8 headed west. From the beach I would go north. And I stuck out my thumb. In the mid seventies it was not such a big deal.

I ran away.

The outline of that six weeks is that I made it up to Washington state. Hitchhiking. Using my body for food and a place to stay sometimes. I traveled over a thousand miles north and then back down again. I had many adventures. Some good, many not. Probably the worst was when they found me. About 800 miles into my journey, a retired police officer picked me up. He was cult. Everything I had run away from, and more, were delivered to me over the next few weeks. They have different rules for the kids who might legitimately disappear. It was so hopeless. I thought I could never get away. Devastation facilitates more breaks. Internally I became more disconnected from my skin. I cry as I remember.

But the Lord has shown me that he was at the beach before I reached it. He was there during the times the abuse occurred. And he remained after I left, even while he accompanied me as I continued on.

He did not do what I wished he would do- stop it or hide me. Instead he did something that was very hard for him to do, thousands of years before I was born. He took what I could not, and is willing to take what is too hard for me. He does it for love. He will always do this for me. He does not serve my wish- he changes my realization that what he offers is the more perfect way. I love that about him. Sitting with him today, receiving his love and kindness, I am washed in gratitude again. Surely he does all things well- just look at my life!