I was a small child then. I have no idea how old I was. I had a room of my own. Every night I would cry and cry and cry. I don’t remember why. I do remember my mother coming to ask me why I was crying. I would answer, “No one loves me.” She would reply, “I love you.” I hope I did not say, “You’re only saying that because I’m crying.” I think that was true.
I was abandoned, all on my own, lost.
“I can’t do this” But I found a place to turn to. On my desk was a picture of the Good Shepherd and sheep. The sheep were flocked. The colors were pastel pinks and blues. It had a thermometer on it. Desperate, I saw the picture. And I tuned to the Shepherd. I pictured him come and sit on my bed, the very Jesus in the picture. I said, “I can’t do this. But I can if you lead me. Lead me and I will follow.” So I put out my hand. Jesus sat on my bed and took my hand. I ceased to cry and slept.