Seeing Through the Scars

Note: The names of the people in this account have been changed for security purposes.

It was a beautiful Sunday morning.  My family and I had spent the night at our friends’ house.  We were getting ready to go to their church, which was conveniently located next door.  I was only about 5 years old, and I remember wearing my Easter dress.  Its cheerful pink and green floral pattern made me smile, but I didn’t particularly care for its big puffy sleeves.

Continue reading “Seeing Through the Scars”

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