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Love had to be given without the assurance of reciprocity or a lifetime of security under its umbrella.
He accepted all her sharp angles and so with him she felt . . . at home.
“God has a soft spot for those of us who feel like we’ve been thrown onto the garage sale pile. A giant soft spot for us,” Wendell had said to her that day at his kitchen table. “He’s never closer to us than when we’re beaten up, unloved, betrayed.”
incredibly, after all her years of rejecting Him, God was with her still. Loving her. She knew it with deep intuition. She
