“not once,” i whisper. “not once did you or mum come into my room, sit on my bed and say sorry. not once did you ask me how i was doing; why i was hurting myself, and what you could do to help.”
wish I could tell you the whole story of how God rescued me and healed me, but that would take at least ten posts. But I will say this. It was personal, intimate, and totally tailored to where I was each step of the way. God kept bringing the right friend, the right book, the right message, the right quote, the right mentor, or whatever I needed at exactly the right time.