In 2007, my 24-year-old daughter came to my door with a baby on her hip and a split lip. She had escaped her husband and begged me to let her come home. I was afraid of what the church ladies would say. So I told her, “You made your bed.” She left. Eighteen Christmases passed with an empty chair. Then, last week, those same church ladies took me to a $40 charity luncheon. The speaker founded a shelter for women fleeing abusive husbands. They announced her name. Colleen. My daughter walked onto the stage in a blue dress, looked across the room… …and her eyes stopped on me.
I turned my own daughter away at the door. Her name was Colleen. She was twenty-four years old, holding a baby on her hip, with a split lip she kept …
In 2007, my 24-year-old daughter came to my door with a baby on her hip and a split lip. She had escaped her husband and begged me to let her come home. I was afraid of what the church ladies would say. So I told her, “You made your bed.” She left. Eighteen Christmases passed with an empty chair. Then, last week, those same church ladies took me to a $40 charity luncheon. The speaker founded a shelter for women fleeing abusive husbands. They announced her name. Colleen. My daughter walked onto the stage in a blue dress, looked across the room… …and her eyes stopped on me. Read More
