Jun 17, 2016 | We have just received an opportunity which will allow us to represent Bloom in the Dark and its mission of healing at both the 2016 AND 2017 conferences of the American Association of Christian Counselors for half the normal cost! The opportunity is only available if we commit and pay the $3,000.00 today. This will pay for both years.

Our attendance at the 2015 conference (we paid $2,000.00) was hugely successful in that it allowed us to establish connections with Christian counselors, coaches, professionals, and students from around the world and to share with them the work that God is doing through Bloom In The Dark, Inc.

These pastors, counselors, and ministry leaders are our target audience because they are the ones helping hurting women who need our message on a daily basis. They are helping through counseling, coaching, community outreach, public speaking, writing, etc. At last year’s conference, we were able to give digital or paperback copies of Bloom in the Dark to over 2,000  of the 7,000 conference attendees, which has in turn spread our message of hope and healing through Christ to their multiple ministries across the country, from prison ministries in Wisconsin to domestic violence awareness training services in Arizona.

We are incredibly thankful that God has blessed us with the opportunity to attend this influential conference for the next two years, and we are seeking His will about the ways in which we spread His vision at these events. However, in addition to help paying the booth fees, we need transportation to and from Dallas, food while we are there, and merchandising and printing costs so that we can give (yes, GIVE) books away to any and all who have the resources and connections to reach those who are in need of hope.

We are confident that attending these conferences is in God’s perfect will for this organization as He has miraculously provided this discount for us to be able to attend at such a reduced cost. If you would like to support us as we continue to seek His provision and guidance in planning for this September’s event in Dallas, you can donate at our GoFundMe account, through the PayPal link on our website, or by purchasing books or other merchandise through our online store.

Whether or not you feel led to give financially today (as a 501c3 charity, all your donations are tax deductible), we ask that you continue to pray with us for wisdom in operating and growing this ministry and continuing to reach the broken so that they may find healing in Christ. We also ask that you share this on Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter, email, or any other way you see fit. We can reach far more people together than we ever could alone!
 
With love,

 Kylie E. Snow, VP of Bloom In The Dark, Inc. (a 501c3 charity)

Jun 14, 2016 | I sat in the little room at the pediatrician’s office with my little boy, swallowing hard and trembling. The nurse had just gone to get the doctor to discuss my decision.

After much research and prayer, I had come to the conclusion I would not allow my son to receive the full range of immunizations. Just as I feared, the doctor’s reaction left me feeling like a fool. Whatever your position is on vaccinations, here’s my point: I was scared to death of saying no to an authority figure. 

Why was I so afraid? I’d been raised in a Christian home, with parents dedicated to my welfare. I had made a decision to follow Jesus at age eleven.

Yet all of that failed to give me personal strength. All of that failed to undo the damage done to my soul.

All of that didn’t erase the fact that, as a young girl, I lost my innocence to someone I should have been able to trust.

I’d been taught to be a good girl, to be obedient, respectful and compliant.

But no one ever told me I could say no. So I complied. I kept the secret. And I lost what little voice and courage that I had.

I didn’t even realize what happened. Not for years. I didn’t connect the dots of my twisted view of submission in marriage, my fear of displeasing authorities, my anxiety attacks, depression and exaggerated startle response.

I’d been caught in a perfect storm of religious compliance and confusing shame. My battered soul had not yet found refuge.

I was stuck as that little girl, emotionally barely older than my own children. Fast forward a couple of decades. These days, I have confidence even in the middle of confrontation. I’m much better at standing up for myself and others.

I’m happy and fulfilled doing a job which guarantees conflict – I get to be a voice for the voiceless by working at a pregnancy resource center.

I’ve gotten to speak to hundreds of troubled young women, many of whom struggle with the pain of past childhood sexual abuse.

What happened? How did I find myself here?

The Jesus I had come to know and love early in life was not content to leave me in my wounded condition. So he put me on a journey of healing and walked by my side.

It was not an overnight process. Over the years, I went to counseling. Caring friends prayed with me and for me.

Breakthrough started happening.

In my thirties, as friends prayed for me, I saw Jesus in the room where the abuse was happening. It was incredibly comforting to know he was there, that I was not alone.

However, he looked like a white statue. Motionless. Expressionless. At that time, my perception of Jesus was still religious, not life-giving.

Some years later, as friends prayed for me again, I saw Jesus in that setting a second time. This time, he was very much alive. He was strong and manly and wild.

And he was angry. He was restraining his rage at what was going on.

When I saw that Jesus, the real Jesus, my soul finally threw off its heavy lid. I screamed and sobbed, “No! No! NO!” until I lay exhausted on the floor.

I finally said what I couldn’t say back then.

I got my “no” back. I got my voice back. And I got my courage back. Religion had kept me bound. A revelation of the real Jesus set me free.

This Jesus, the alive one, the mean and wild one, gave me the power to forgive the very thing that angered him and wounded me.

Jesus is my source of healing, of strength, of courage. He is my beautiful savior. I am so grateful to have my voice back – so I can praise his name always.

Susanne Maynes is a Board Certified Biblical Counselor with the Board of Professional and Pastoral Counselors. She is the Counseling Director at Life Choices Clinic, and her literary agent is looking for the right publisher for her devotional, When Compassion Calls for Courage: Forty Reflections on Rescuing the Unborn. Read Susanne’s blog, “Unleashing your Courageous Compassion” at www.susannemaynes.com. She also blogs about “Passionate Parenting” at the same site, and is working on a parenting book.

May 10, 2016 | Jesus wielded parables powerfully and effectively. In the story of the sheep and the goats, an eyeopening parable defining evidences of true faith, He emphasized the importance of visiting those in prison. There, the need is desperate and aching. And so, because we love Him and those He loves, in a nearby prison our small group of Christian women leads two ongoing Christ-based 12-step programs.

Type your new text here.

There we have learned that women end up in prison for many surprising reasons. There’s always a backstory. It usually involves a man, hard times, and sexual assault. Drugs and alcohol are often involved. But there’s always a deep heart wound. Prison ministry has blessed my life, not only because I am privileged to know these women, but also because in knowing them God has opened my eyes to many truths.

I’ve learned lessons about God’s grace that I never even knew I needed to learn. I now have an increasing awareness of my own sinfulness and my utter need for Christ alone. My brokenness doesn’t decrease God’s love for me, rather just the opposite. This fact is life-giving. The women in prison are just like you and me. They need God’s grace, too.

If given the same life experiences of most people in prison, we would find ourselves in the same place. That our life experiences have not tipped us that direction is a gift, for we are merely human. We usually fail to understand the depth of our human brokenness. The majority of us are never pushed to the extreme places that tip that first domino, causing one event after another to fall, eventually putting someone into prison.

We tend to think we’re far better than we are. We take our good circumstances for granted. We may have grown up in a loving home. We may have had two parents. Our parents probably didn’t teach us to use and deal drugs. No family member raped or assaulted us. No sexual violence occurred right in front of us when we were children. We didn’t witness one parent kill the other. No one placed us in the foster care system.

No cruel family member or mother’s boyfriend destroyed our sense of worth, making us an easy victim for a preying pimp, resulting in a life of prostitution. We weren’t kidnapped and trafficked. No unexpected injury caused an agonizing pain from which we could never escape, producing an addiction to painkillers that prompted a crime. We never found ourselves hungry with no money. We never acted desperately and illegally, so our family could eat. We never killed our spouse in self-defense.

But things could have gone differently. But for the grace of God, we could be in prison. For those of us who have experienced any of those harmful events, if we have not ended up in prison, it is a miracle, an unexpected gift. Complete and total grace.

We’ve learned that around 80% of the women who participate in our program were sexually abused or assaulted, usually as children or young teens. With destroyed sense of self and damaged sexuality, as wounded women they later turned to drugs, prostitution, and other harmful experiences. Why? Because they are human, just like us. When sexual harm occurs at that young age, we often can’t even verbalize what has been done to us, let alone recognize what destruction it wreaks upon our souls. Therefore, we barely understand how we arrived at the broken place we did.

The sin that takes root is insidious. It cannot initially be identified: We turn from God. We no longer trust Him. We feel a coldness of heart toward the One who allowed this to happen. From that place come all the other sorts of brokenness.

So, Jesus identified with us. In a culture where modesty was the norm, Jesus chose to die stretched out naked and exposed on a cross. His endurance of the shame of this final abuse of nakedness before the world, bodily fluids releasing in death, people mocking Him – all of this was the gift that reaches down into the hearts of sexual abuse victims. It demonstrates His deep love, mercy, and grace to those who find themselves utterly destroyed by the abuse they lived through.

The women who come through our Christian 12-step program experience God’s hand as He helps them to understand how their abuse or other damaging life event tipped that first domino, and how the effect of one-after-another seemingly inevitable steps have led to prison. As they work through the program, the grace of God opens their eyes to see how God now utilizes that awful domino effect for their good. It has brought them face to face with the Healer of body, soul, and spirit – Jesus, who empathizes with their experience. God brings them to Himself.

Bloom In The Dark, Inc., a 501c3 charity, has donated the book, Bloom in the Dark, to our program. Each traumatized female prisoner will receive a copy. Filling this book are the testimonies of Christian women who have been likewise abused, giving hope for recovery and for blooming into godly women. This is what the women in our program want and need. Bloom in the Dark makes it feel as if other Christian women have come alongside the prisoners to meet them in their most wounded place and to help them toward the Light.

We’re so grateful for the generous gift. We highly recommend this book and applaud the benefit it brings to broken women. In this book they will read of how God has helped many others to trust Jesus to heal, to overcome, and to grow.

Might Bloom In the Dark benefit your own life, program, or ministry?

Melinda Viergever Inman was raised in a storytelling family. There her roots were sunk. During years of relocation, tragedy struck. Wounded and heartbroken, Melinda forsook her roots and ran from herself and from God. A journey of trial and heartache brought her home again. A prodigal now returned, she writes with passion, illustrating God’s love for wounded people as he makes beauty from ashes. Fallen is her second novel; Refuge, the sequel, is her first. Melinda shepherds women in prison ministry and writes inspirational material at https://melindainman.com/blog/. With her family she is involved with Mission India/RIMI, rescuing orphans and providing theological and job training for impoverished students.

To learn more about Melinda: https://melindainman.com/

To buy Melinda’s books:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Melinda-Viergever- Inman/e/B00GFYI0RU/ref=dp_byline_cont_book_1
Barnes & Noble: https://bit.ly/1vEQGyJ for Nook OR https://bit.ly/1zOvvRi for paperback Apple iBook: https://bit.ly/1D4GfK3

May 9, 2016 |Crystal Sutherland is an Ex-Victim who has created a tool to help others dealing with the type of sexual abuse she experienced as a child. While most victims of childhood sexual abuse never deal with the damage, Crystal chose to reach out to God for healing. In her book, Journey to Heal, Crystal shares seven steps on that journey.

You may be ready to consider facing your past, or you may be on the healed end of the spectrum. Either way, Journey to Heal can clarify the process and strengthen you for your journey.

Each of our stories of abuse is different, so each journey to healing will be different. You may need professional counseling or intervention, like I did. You may need a combination of ministries and 12 step programs. You may need self-help books and friends. The more severe your story, the more likely you are to need a more intense level of intervention. There is no shame or guilt in recognizing that your healing journey is unique to you.

Crystal and I want you to feel hope for your future. Whatever stage you are facing in your healing journey, don’t give up. Ask for prayer, help, and support. Don’t minimize the importance of facing your past and walking forward into a healthier future.

Crystal also expresses hope and healing through art. I am obviously drawn to this particular painting because it shares our heart to help others BLOOM–no matter what! To purchase this painting, click here.

Bloom In The Dark, Inc. wants to partner with others sharing hope and healing. We hope Crystal’s book, Journey to Heal, can help you move forward in your healing journey.

For more information about Crystal, check out her website: www.crystalsutherland.org

Find more information about the book at www.journeytohealbook.com

Are you the “vessel of honor” you want to be? If not, watch my 5 minute testimony and then comment below on how the video affected your view of yourself. Thanks.

https://vimeo.com/160678766

Feb 11, 2016 | I’m so excited to introduce to you another Ex-Victim who has shared her testimony of brokenness and abuse to give hope. Tracey Casciano is an inspiration. I’m thrilled to be sharing this book that showed me how God is always faithful to meet and heal us. I cried through parts of it, but finished it with great hope. I’m blessed to be friends with someone else who refuses to stay silent. Thank you Tracey!!

Interview with Tracey Casciano- author of “Out of the Darkroom, Into the Light”

Type your new text here.

Q: Did you always want to write a book? 
A: Not this book! I am a mother to four wonderful sons and thought that it would be fun to write about all the experiences (good and not so good) that I’ve had. When God told me to write this book, I was very scared.

Q: Which has been tougher – forgiving your parents or believing in yourself? 
A: I have an amazing husband and incredible friends who have helped me believe in myself. Forgiving my parents was tougher because I thought it meant that they would be “off the hook” for what they had done. Once I learned that forgiveness would allow me to move on, it allowed me to be free.

Q: What are some of the most dramatic early responses from your readers? 
A: My closest friends from my childhood and my in-laws were shocked by what I had endured and were very supportive. Others who read my book started sharing that they too had a similar past, which confirmed the need for this book.

Q: What was the hardest part about writing this book? 
A: I struggled with the memories and emotions as I wrote the book, but as I realized that I was writing to help other people, it became easier. My story is just one of many out there and I feel strongly that these stories need to be heard in order for victims to heal.

Q: What is your message to readers who are struggling as a result of childhood abuse? 
A: You aren’t alone! I didn’t tell anyone about my past until I was 41 years old. I was full of shame and guilt and was afraid of being judged. Get help, trust God, and remember that forgiveness will ultimately bring you peace.

Q: What are your goals for “Out of the Darkroom”? 
A: My goal is to have my book get in the hands of those who need help with healing and forgiveness. I hope that by sharing my story other victims will feel more free to talk about their past and the stigma of abuse will go away.

About Tracey:
Tracey is a passionate speaker and writer ready to shine a light for Jesus. She shines that light through encouraging words as a blogger, speaker, and writer to help others who may be suffering or doubting themselves on their current path in life. After a childhood with an alcoholic mother and abusive father, her love for the Lord helped her rise above her past. She describes this in her book, “Out of the Darkroom, Into the Light: A Story of Faith and Forgiveness After Child Abuse.” She is happily married and in the midst of raising four wonderful sons. Tracey has a background in Special Education, has taught History in public high school for eight years, and has been a missionary in Guatemala and the Dominican Republic. Learn more about Tracey and her book at her website www.traceycasciano.com, on her blog https://Ephesians2v8.wordpress.com, twitter @TraceyCasciano, and Facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/TMCasciano/).

Nov 26, 2015 | Thanksgiving. Panic. Run. Most people would not put those words together, but since my divorce, no other holiday has felt so painful. Just the thought of Thanksgiving would start the tears and plans to run away.

The first year, I fell apart at work the Monday of Thanksgiving week. I couldn’t stop crying. I had a hard time breathing or thinking. I was shaking. My boss said I could take a break to pull myself together. Caught completely off guard, I had to figure out what the panic was about.

Thanksgiving was the only holiday we celebrated growing up. We made pine cone turkeys, pilgrim and Indian outfits, cornucopias, and our best food. We were grateful on paper, out loud, and in prayer. We celebrated family and faith. Even after I started celebrating other holidays as an adult, Thanksgiving was always my comfort holiday.

Until my world fell apart. My divorce tore up my family. Growing up, no matter what poverty or sickness hit, we always stayed together to fight it out. As a family, we could conquer anything. But now, my own family was broken. Despite the heritage of successful marriages (my parents and four of their siblings have celebrated 50th anniversaries, and my five siblings are still married to their original spouses), I couldn’t keep mine together. I was a failure.

In my brokenness, Thanksgiving symbolized everything I had lost. Hopes. Dreams. Belonging. Loyalty. Love. Family. How could I ever be thankful when it hurt so much?

I figured out why I was panicking, got control of myself and went back to work. My ex-husband had our three boys for Thanksgiving, so I planned my getaway….Daytona Beach. Alone. Nothing to remind me of Thanksgiving.

Coming from a large family, I’d never learned to be alone. For the first time in my life, I did fun things alone. I watched the new James Bond movie at the theater. I walked on the beach with my Starbucks. I relaxed in the hot tub. I cried and prayed. God helped me start focusing on what I had, instead of on what I’d lost.

The next year, even though I started panicking, I didn’t run away. I just boycotted my family’s Thanksgiving dinner. Without my boys again, I watched movies and went to Waffle House with a friend. The pain was almost manageable.

I knew my family was hurt that I wouldn’t let them love me through the holiday. They wanted to help me. They couldn’t fathom that their togetherness made my brokenness hurt worse.

The third year, I cried and felt tightness in my chest, but I didn’t panic. I kept my boys and had Thanksgiving with my extended family. I had finally come to terms with my revised family unit. My boys and I were a whole family, not a partial one. We were developing and owning our new identity. Our value was based on God’s unconditional love for us.

No panicking or crying this year. We’re creating new traditions as a family of four. We’re not boycotting the extended family, but we’ve put our needs first. Instead of traveling, we’re catching up on life and resting. We’re attending a Thanksgiving dinner with others from our church. Today is Thanksgiving Day, and I am thankful. God has brought healing and hope into my life. My sons are my world. We are blessed beyond measure! May you find hope and healing in a relationship with the Creator of the Universe, too.

Oct 19, 2015 |By Black-eyed Susan

Here we go again, I thought as I drove to my daughter’s school. Her substitute teacher had slapped her face in class for not paying attention. The teacher got fired immediately, but I was having to go meet with the Department of Children’s Services about the mess. When will we Lentz women quit being punching bags? Now. That’s when. I thought back through the choices I’d already made to stop this family curse. It wasn’t just the women, either. We were good at marrying men who had a history of abuse. We were the poster family for “Hurt people hurt people.”

Both of my parents and their parents experienced traumatic childhoods. My dad came from an extremely abusive family. His earliest memory is of his dad holding a knife to his mom’s throat and her begging for her life. My mom’s stepdad would often beat her until she was unconscious. The pattern was obvious.

Our family didn’t discriminate on types of abuse, either. Verbal abuse set the stage for the other types of abuse. When my dad was angry, which was often, he would call us fat cows. We were stick thin. When I was six and didn’t know any better, I cried when I got hurt. My dad’s response was to tell me that my face looked like “a chicken butt” when I cried. I quit crying then and tried to never cry again.

If being stoic and tough was what he wanted, I would learn to be that. I desperately wanted approval. I made myself shut down. Don’t feel anything. I would lecture myself. I would become just as tough as my dad. Show no emotion. Don’t be weak. Of course, I never got his approval. But I didn’t get bullied as much, so I kept refusing to feel anything.

The physical abuse was called “discipline” when it was aimed at us kids. In a rage, dad would grab our hair and smash our heads together. We didn’t seem to know how to be good enough, so he would beat us with his belt or a huge switch from outside. One night, when I was on the phone after dad told me to get off, he ripped the phone out of the wall. Then he grabbed me by my hair and threw me across the room. Out of nowhere, my older sister showed up and punched him in the head. They fought long enough for me to get away.

After a family battle like that, he would mope around the house for days, not speaking to anyone. He would just sit around and pout with this dark shadow seeming to hang over him. Everything that he did was somehow our fault. That’s all we’d ever known, so we believed him. Even when we had done nothing wrong, he was able to twist situations around so much that we would start to think we were actually in the wrong. My mom, my sister and I were all confused and terrified. He was a master manipulator. He was a bully who was bigger and stronger than all of us, so he always got his way.

One night when my dad was beating mom up, she yelled at me to call 911. Shaking, I quickly dialed the number. It worked, because he quit beating her to grab the phone away from me. But then, he smashed my head into the side of the piano. That really hurt!

I heard him sweetly tell the dispatcher that he had a delinquent teenager who needed to have the “fear of the law” put into her. He asked them to send an officer. When the cops showed up, I had to listen to my dad tell lies that he seemed to actually believe.

My battered mother hid in their room while I listened to a lecture about obeying my parents. I couldn’t really focus on what they were saying because my head hurt so much. My dad was obviously above the law and could get away with anything.

One day, after a beating, I was so afraid of going home after school that I went to a friend’s house instead. When I told my dad that I wasn’t coming home, he called the cops and had them arrest me at my friend’s house. I was horrified, but I showed no emotion when they hauled me off to juvenile jail for the night.

I wasn’t sure which was worse, home or jail. Being stuck alone for four hours with a huge, tattooed linebacker slanted things against the safety of being in jail. Supposedly, that should never have happened, but after that, I thought I was better off just trying to avoid the abuse at home. At least I knew how to survive that.

Where was God in all of this? Well, a twisted, abusive “God” was shoved down our throats by the Pentecostal cult my dad had started following. He took us to church every Sunday to show us off as the perfect Christian family. It was so confusing to have the “strong Christian man” be so mean and hurtful at home. He had a wonderful reputation at church and in the community.

His reputation was extremely important to him. We knew we had better never say or do anything to make him look bad, or we would be severely punished. My dad’s habit of twisting scripture to justify his actions and his being such a hypocrite really damaged my relationship with God. It was a long process for me to develop a real relationship with my loving Father God.

When people would tell me what an amazing father I had, I would just smile and nod. No one would ever believe what we lived with at home. For example, one day I forgot my uniform for work. I hated going home, but I had to stop at the house after school to quickly change. Trying to avoid being late to work, I ran into the house. Uh oh. I had just burst into a Bible study my dad was having with some church friends.

I was horrified that he would yell at me. Instead, his face lit up. He invited me into the middle of his prayer circle, telling everyone what a godly daughter he had. I was too afraid to say I was going to be late for work, so I stayed for over an hour as they prayed in tongues. When my dad told me I had to pray, too, I made something up that I hoped sounded good enough that I wouldn’t get punished later. I ended up getting written up for being two hours late for work.

Mom always told us that we had it easy, so I figured that it couldn’t be all that bad. She would say that we had no idea what it felt like to be beaten or hurt. Sometimes she would tell us that we were spoiled rotten. Knowing we’d get severely punished, she would still tell on us to our dad. She was so terrified of him that she would do this to deflect his attention away from herself.

For over twenty years, my mom worked a full time job and handed my dad her paycheck every week. She was not allowed to have any money, because money would enable her to leave. I know she loved me in her own way because she stayed with him until I turned eighteen. Since I was the youngest, she moved out the same day I did. The only person she told where she was staying was her mom, who understood and wouldn’t betray her. It was a full two weeks before my mom dared to come out of hiding.

In my late twenties, I finally found a man who could really protect me from my dad. LeBrone was a huge, black body-builder with a shaved head and a beautiful smile. He was twice my dad’s size and he loved me. I believed LeBrone would protect me from anyone ever hurting me again. When he would hold me, his strong arms would make me feel safe. LeBrone seemed to be one of the genuine guys. He’d been abused as a child, too, so we had a lot in common. We were going to help each other heal and be stronger.

My dad’s fear of LeBrone was a huge bonus. After our wedding, however, I found out they had a lot in common. Over the next six years, I learned that they were both verbally and physically abusive. LeBrone was addicted to alcohol, drugs and other women.

After seven years of marriage, when my husband started being abusive in front of our daughter, I left him. I had told myself that I would never do what my mom had done. I would not raise my children in an abusive home. I regretted staying as long as I did. I had stayed, hoping my husband would change.

I started reaching out to the God, Who I had been told actually loved me. I also started going to counseling. I wanted to provide a loving home for my daughter. I wanted to raise her in a healthy, loving environment. God started showing Himself to me as a God of love and healing.

I started softening enough to feel again. I had to feel the bad things and do a bit of crying, but I also got to feel the good things. I was able to let myself feel emotions. More importantly, I could trust others enough to show my emotions to them. I no longer had to be the toughest person around.

A setback in my journey to recovery happened when I tried to have a relationship with my dad after my divorce. Since I’d changed so much, I guess I thought he was different. My daughter and I went to a party at my Dad’s house. When my dad asked me if he could spank my daughter if she disobeyed, I froze and didn’t answer. I was still afraid of making him mad by saying he couldn’t spank her, so I just ignored the question.

I bit my tongue a few times when he made ugly comments to me. I was trying to “honor” my father, but then my daughter did something foolish. I watched in total shock as my dad grabbed her and spanked her severely. As soon as the shock wore off, I ran over and picked her up. She was devastated at the anger and pain aimed at her. I held her close and ran out of the house to our car.

I left and haven’t spoken to my dad since. I realized that I had to forgive him, but I still needed to stay away from him. He wasn’t capable of a healthy relationship. I pray for him, but I will not subject us to his abuse. Hurt people hurt people. I need to be healed so I don’t pass this heritage on to my daughter.

Through counseling, divorce care at church, and talking with other true Christians, I’m starting to tap deeper and deeper into my emotions. The numbness is being replaced with intense feelings of both pain and joy. I’m learning to give God my anxiety, rejection, shame, and guilt. I’m learning that there is hope for me.

God is near to the brokenhearted. He is nothing like the abusive, controlling “God” that my dad portrayed. God is showing me that He loves me. I am worthy of His ultimate sacrifice on the cross. I am worthy because God created me and loves me as His beautiful daughter. His validation is the only one that matters.

My life will break through the generational curses of abuse in my family. My daughter may face a few hard things in life, like the mess with the substitute teacher at school, but they will be the exception, not the rule. She will see God as a loving Father. God is bigger than any problem we face. He can heal and restore us from any damage. As we look to Him, God will help us win the battle in our minds. He will give us the validation we need. He will help us end the generational curses. We will be the ultimate BREAKTHROUGH!

Thanks again to the amazing ex-victim who shared her story to bring hope and redemption to others! Paula

Sep 30, 2015 | What do you do when you feel like running away in the face of a choice that you know is going to cause you a lot of pain? I felt torn between my desire to help others and wanting to run because I knew I would have to experience a lot of anguish in the process of helping others like me. Yes, I’m talking about writing true stories of abuse, brokenness, and personal darkness.

Unfortunately, I can’t write from my head. My writing only flows when it’s written from my heart. So, if it is painful material, it really hurts me to write it. I have to walk through the pain and darkness to make it real to readers.

Bloom In the Dark is intense enough that I’ve been told some people can’t read it because it triggers their own pain. I guess that is a compliment, because it means I’m drawing them into the stories effectively. I want to tell them that the hope at the end of each story is worth the pain. That denial never healed anything. Pretending you’re not sick doesn’t make you well. But I understand the desire to just run. From the past, the pain, the emotions, the scars, people……

I did that for most of my life. I ran away–emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually. What good did that do? It numbed the pain, or at least distracted me from it for a little while. But it robbed me of loving relationships, time with my kids, appreciating the beauty around me. Running away didn’t help me grow, change, get stronger, feel fulfilled. It never got rid of the past or the pain.

I finally quit running away and started asking for help. Getting help is like going to the doctor or dentist. Treatment is very important for long term health, but it is usually uncomfortable or downright painful! I’ve gotten a lot of help over the years. Many times, healing time is proportional to the amount of damage. I had to invest a lot of years, tears, and pain into getting better.

God used some amazing ministries, including Celebrate Recovery, Be In Health, and Crossroads Christian Counseling. These were safe places for me to heal and change. I learned to understand why I was broken. That it wasn’t my fault. That I didn’t deserve the abuse. That hope and healing could be found in a relationship with Father God through His Son, Jesus.

As I healed, I realized that I wanted to help others like me. I wanted to tell them, “You are not alone. It is abuse, and it’s not your fault. You are loved and lovable.” But how could I tell them that? I don’t know who they are because they aren’t advertising their pain. Fear and shame kept my mouth shut, too.

But statistics say that I’m “normal.” By percentages, as an abuse victim, I’m in the majority group. So why did I feel so alone? Because silence keeps us isolated.

Victims are too afraid or ashamed to admit what they’ve been through. Like me. So how could someone have reached me? One of my escapes was reading. They could have given me a book that would share other women’s brokenness and healing. That way I would know I wasn’t alone and that there was hope– without my having to admit anything to anyone!

So back to reliving my own pain or living through other women’s pain. Crazy, right? Yes, but worth it. Cathartic. Rewarding. Meaningful. I am doing for others what I wish had been available for me. I’m sharing true testimonies that are raw and painful, but end with hope and healing.

I’m feeling the pain, but I’m also getting to experience the miracle of healing, my own and others. I’m getting to watch women and girls start their journey to wholeness. I’m getting to meet more women who have already been healed. I’m surrounded by miracles, joy and beauty.

Psalm 23 shares a progression that has been true in my journey of writing painful stories of intense hope:

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

He restores me and leads me before the valley! I don’t need to be afraid because He’s with me. Boundaries keep me safe. I am sustained and restored. Then goodness, mercy and home. God offers restoration and redemption to all of us. Despite the pain, I wouldn’t trade this journey for anything in the world!

If you are encouraged or challenged by any of my blogs, please like, comment, and follow my blog. Bloom In the Dark can be purchased at www.bloominthedark.com or in Kindle format at amazon.com. If you have a story of healing that you would like to share, email me at bloominthedarkbook@gmail.com.

Thanks for joining me on this journey of healing, Paula

Sep 11, 2015 | As I remember the impact 9-11 has had on the lives of my loved ones, I go back to this poem that discusses how WAR has affected families across America. My heart goes out to all those hurt by the horrible events on September 11th and the war that followed. I share this poem contributed to Bloom In the Dark to honor of my brother.

Living With War
Tears cascading down my face
I watch my man marching off to war
He stands so proud and tall
As he answers the call
To protect the weak and downtrodden
To defend our nation’s freedom
To support his troops
I smile through the tears
And keep waving long after he’s gone
Not wanting to turn and face
My life alone for a year
Patriotism won’t keep me warm at night
Loyalty can’t laugh at my jokes
Valor doesn’t show affection
I will strive to be brave
I will smile on our rare calls
I tell myself that our love is worth it all
We are just doing our part
Independence requires fighting
Freedom calls for sacrifice
Liberty isn’t free Finally the day came
To embrace my strong, weary warrior
Who had fought bravely for us all and survived so many battles
His body was whole and strong
His soul was battered
His spirit broken
Terrors he could still see
Nightmares making him scream in the night
Danger still haunting his reality
Loss permeating his days
Survivor’s guilt making him feel unworthy
Survivor’s hell tormenting his mind
Survivor’s medals reminding
I know he wants to protect
Yet he explodes in anger
Trying so desperately to keep us safe
From anything that could harm
Wars against communism to win freedom
Wars against all terrorists to win safety
Wars against “whom” to win “what”
Disillusionment destroys from the inside
Stealing his purpose in life
Replacing it with anything
That dulls or distracts from the war within
Controlling the outcome of every single thing
Restricting his loved one’s freedom
Forcing everyone to comply
God, please help me love
This broken man who is breaking me Instill
Your forgiveness in us both
As we navigate these stormy seas
Nurturing life to replace the death
Believing in hope and healing
Loving the unlovable
Surviving the war he went to fight and the war he brought home inside
That’s caused damage in ways I’ll never understand
Loving the husband who once believed
Forgiving him for his harsh cynicism
Praying for unshakeable faith
Years and wars have passed
Children have joined our ranks
Hello’s have matched every goodbye
Our family stands together against all odds
Choosing to love God first and then each other
Having faith that God’s plan is always best
Making the most of each day together
We Will Win This War!

[For complete poem with commentary get Bloom In the Dark in Kindle or paperback at www.bloominthedark.com

Sep 10, 2015 | Since I launched Bloom In the Dark, I’ve started considering what being successful in this new career might look like. Is it how much money I make? Is it how many books are sold or donated? Is it my book making a best seller list? Is it how many books I write? Is it how famous I become? Is it how many likes or followers I have on my blog or Facebook? Is it how many people are on my newsletter email list? Articles about becoming a successful author say these factors are signs of a successful career.

But what makes someone truly successful? The Bible tells us the two most important things to do–love God with everything and love your neighbor as yourself. Relationships with God, ourselves and others trump all other commandments in scripture. Crazy, right? But if God says relationships are the most important, wouldn’t you say He sees success in the form of relationship units? Not money, position, power, possessions, appearances, accomplishments, but rather loving relationships?

This concept became crystal clear to me today. I’ve caught myself crying off and on all day. I’m not depressed or hormonal, so why the tears? Well, someone I met 23 years ago lost her battle with cancer on Monday–Labor Day. I hadn’t seen her or talked to her in the last 10 years. We would see each other’s posts on Facebook, but had no real connection for way to long. It didn’t help that we ended up on opposite sides of the country.

I thought back to how close we’d been before. I had helped her get ready for her wedding. She was one of the most beautiful people I’ve known. Inside and out. I remember how I thought she was the most photogenic bride ever. Beauty always seemed to surround her.

Yes, everyone always says the best things about those who’ve died, but I’ve always seen Deborah this way. Even when we lost touch. Even when we couldn’t seem to reconnect. I knew that if I showed up on her doorstep, she’d invite me in like we’d never been apart. Despite time and issues between our families, she would show Christ’s love to me. I am only one of hundreds of friends who are hurting because she’s gone.

She had the amazing ability to make people around her feel loved and accepted. No matter what. She gave hugs that squeezed out any bad feelings. Her smile was contagious. Her grace under pressure was impressive. She battled cancer for the first time at 15. Then again during the last few years. Fighting cancer, but always loving and forgiving people. I’ve been crying because I miss her. I hate the fact that we’ll never reconnect here on earth.

When my best friend, Victoria, died last January, I pictured her cuddling my babies that are in heaven. Now, I am picturing Deborah and Victoria each holding one of my angels. Two amazing friends who loved fiercely. They touched people’s lives just by existing. Two amazingly successful women who left us way too soon! They consistently put relationships above everything else. Loving God and others without reservation.

If you measure success in relationship units, these two women were definitely more successful than Bill Gates, Donald Trump, Hilary Clinton or President Obama have ever been. They loved with absolutely unconditional loyalty. New friends, old friends, close friends and distant friends all felt the pain of loss when Deborah and Victoria left this earth.

When tears come to my eyes as I think of never seeing my friends here on earth again, I am challenged to focus on my relationships more. I want to follow my friends’ examples of love, service, loyalty, and generosity. I want to be successful the way Deborah and Victoria were! I want to invest in what God says is most important–loving God and loving others.

Aug 27, 2015 |Have you ever wondered why some people seem so sure of God’s intervention in their lives? They believe that everything is God blessing or helping them. The open parking space, the surprise discount, the green lights, the job promotion, the accident that didn’t happen, the disease that disappeared, the sun that starts shining……to them, nothing just happens!

My life is like that. You may think I’m crazy. I’ve had a lot of really bad things happen to me, but my focus is on the blessings that completely surround me. I really believe that God intervenes in my life in extraordinary ways.

Maybe, that’s because I ask Him to bless me. I ask for the parking space. I ask for the discounts. I ask Him for the “go” lights instead of stop lights. I ask Him to be my provider. I ask Him to be my protector. I ask Him to be my healer. I ask Him to give me life and hope.

Then, I thank Him.

Oh yeah, the bad stuff. What do I do with that? I thank Him for giving me patience, growing my character, giving me peace in the middle of chaos, giving me hope in the setbacks and discouragement, giving me strength when I’m too weak to make it, giving me wisdom when I’m not smart enough to have a clue, giving me courage when I just want to run away.

I’m not a saint or more special than anyone else. I just have a Father Who created me, loves me enough to die for me, has an amazing plan for me (despite the bad stuff), is with me always, would never leave me nor forsake me. Kind of like a loving daddy who is perfect and has the coolest super powers!

Father God knows what I need–when what I want could do me harm. He knows what my future holds when I’m panicking about my past. He knows where I’m blind, deaf and dumb–where I just don’t get it. He smiles at my foolishness and then does the loving thing for me.

Sometimes, that means I have to face the consequences of my choices. Sometimes, God just shuts the doors to keep me safe. Sometimes, He blesses me beyond my wildest dreams because I trusted Him to choose for me. Sometimes, He gives me peace to rest in the middle of the hurricane. Sometimes, He just asks me to trust Him–even when I won’t understand.

Maybe I see God’s hand everywhere in my life because I’m just one “of the masses” that needs the “opiate.” Regardless, I would never have survived my life without His divine intervention, and I certainly wouldn’t have the amazing life I live filled with love, joy and peace.

I wouldn’t trade my childlike view of a Loving Heavenly Father who takes amazing care of me, for all the money or fame in the world. As Paul (my namesake) said, “I have found, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.” Even on days like today–when the headache and cramps keep distracting me, my amazing sons are fussing and whining, my internet keeps messing up, and I’m way behind on my responsibilities.

You see, the coffee tasted amazing, the weather is gorgeous, the new friend gave us treats and magnets of castles from Romania, my eyes have stopped being irritated and watering, and I have a whole day to get things done!

Have a blessed day:-) Paula Mosher Wallace

Aug 22, 2015 | Have you ever realized you were drowning in good things? That you were losing yourself in the craziness of your life? That you weren’t sure why you were doing life this way?

My life got really hectic last month as I was finishing everything to launch Bloom In the Dark: True Stories of Hope and Redemption. My boys and I were finishing our homeschooling for the year, only a couple months behind schedule. I pushed myself so hard that I had a lot of health issues pop up that last week. With God’s help, I managed to get everything done and get to Georgia for the book launch.

The book launch event was unbelievable! I got to experience so much love and support from family, friends, and others with a heart for broken women. I cried a lot. Happy tears. And got tons of hugs! I was humbled and amazed! So many good things happened for me and around me. The next day, when we counted the books sold and donated, we were up to 258 books! Since the average self-published author only sells 100 copies of their book, I knew that God was blessing this.

Then the adrenaline and excitement wore off. Everyone went home. Now what? I was “weary in well doing”…… well, exhausted, anyway. Good thing I had enrolled the boys and I at a retreat for a couple weeks.

In the middle of nowhere, with no cell reception and spotty WiFi, we got to focus on God. They had programs for kids, teens and adults. I knew my boys were having fun and making new friends, but at first, I had a hard time letting everything else go. I wanted to focus on God, but the wheels in my head didn’t want to slow down……

I was distracted by the need to capitalize on the momentum started by the book launch. How was I going to get word out about the book while I was off grid? Then, I felt God prompt me to trust Him. Bloom In the Dark was His book anyway, right?

I chose to focus on getting myself and my family aligned with God’s word and plan for our lives. To breathe in the peace and joy surrounding me. I rested and reevaluated my priorities, choices and use of time.

I laugh as I look back on the ways God showed out during that two weeks. I found out that my story and link to my book was on Squire Rushnell’s God winks Facebook page for August 1st (215,158 page likes). The Macon Telegraph published an article about the book launch. People were buying and sharing books without me.

At the retreat, I met people who got the book to share at a youth detention center in Texas, a town in Mexico, a city in Canada…….Florida, Michigan, Missouri, Virginia, Ohio, Kentucky, Alabama. The list keeps going. I also realized that 1 book touching and changing someone’s life was much better than 100’s of books sitting on shelves collecting dust.

Best of all, though, I connected with my kids in a new way. We got to discuss what our goals were as a family. We agreed that God chose us to be together through this journey. That I wanted to love and parent them like the children of God that the Bible says they are. I asked their forgiveness for all the ways I had let them down or hurt them. They forgave me and showered me with love and hugs.

We agreed that homeschooling was still our best option. We decided to rearrange our plans to accommodate the new writing/publishing business I was embarking on. I would put my boys first and only choose the opportunities that didn’t take away from them. Our team would keep working together to share God’s love with hurting people around us.

We got back to Tennessee, rearranged our home, and started the new year of school. We know who, what, when and why we’re choosing what we are for our family. I’m excited to see what God has ahead for us in this new chapter of our lives.

For our 2FOR20 deal, go to my site and select the 2FOR20 deal. At checkout, use promo code 2FOR20. This will give you 2 autographed books and get 2 donated to a charity helping hurting women. That’s really 4 for $20! This deal is only good through the end of August, so please spread the word. Thanks.

Paula Mosher Wallace

Tomorrow begins my new career as an author (rephrase–I’m hosting a book signing event). I’m sitting here thinking about how I got here? It seems like everything in my life has been leading up to this specific event. What if it fails? What if it succeeds, but I fail? What if I’m just an author “wannabe” who just thinks she has a message that can change people’s lives?

Then, I remind myself of the feedback I’ve gotten from the women who’s stories I’ve had the honor to share. Each woman has told me that sharing her story has furthered her healing. My support team has shared how the stories have impacted their lives with renewed compassion and hope. When I think of the smiles through the tears as someone shared her ongoing story with me, I realize this can’t be a traditional “wannabe” story.

I “wannabe” sharing life and hope with others. I “wannabe” a rule breaker who doesn’t realize that “once a victim, always a victim.” I “wannabe” showing others that you can be an Ex-Victim when Christ intervenes on your behalf. I “wannabe” focusing on the miraculous impossible instead of the expected norms. I “wannabe” the change in this world that helps others “wannabe” healed, too.

As I sat across the table from my mom putting together little gift bags to go with book purchases at the book launch tomorrow, I felt so blessed. The little bags each included a pack of tissues and a box of chocolates. The warning on the back of the book says, “better when read with tissues and a box of chocolates.” So, with an Alive & Beautiful bookmark, each gift set gives the reader the tools to navigate some deeply emotional waters.

Procedure: Read a story, mark your place with the bookmark, use tissue to wipe tears, and reward yourself with a chocolate!

I’m not a trained writer. I’m not being professionally published. I’ve never been to a book signing, much less a book launch. I have no idea what I’m doing. This makes you really want to read my book, right?

What I do know is that I’ve experienced damage and abuse. I do know how I’ve been helped and healed. I do know that there are way too many of us who’ve been horribly hurt. I do know that I feel best when I’m helping others. I do know that hiding things or living in denial doesn’t bring healing. I do know that I can be vulnerable and share my story. I do know that other women have trusted me with their amazing stories.

I’m excited to step into the unknown. I’m just crazy enough to trust my Creator with the outcome. I’m weak enough to ask for tons of help from people much smarter and more capable than me. I’m stupid enough to put my neck out despite dire warnings about people wanting to chop my head off. I’m childlike enough to believe in the impossible idea that sharing the stories of a few Ex-Victims can change how abused women see themselves.

I “wannabe" the spark that sets off a flame of hope that keeps spreading. Like a story in the book, Bloom In the Dark, my light on a hill might just be a pile of burning $#;+. But if that light gives hope to just one victim, it’s all worth it.

Despite all this craziness and uncertainty, I “wannabe” me!

If you like my blogs, please like, comment, share and “Follow.” Thanks for taking time to share my journey. Paula

Jul 22, 2015 | I’m proud to be an Ex-Victim! Like being an ex-wife who was a wife for fifteen years, being an ex-victim says that I was a victim for a period of time, but I am no longer a victim.

A lot of people are afraid to admit they are a “Victim” because it’s a label that they feel will always define them. So, they live in denial. I did the same thing. I couldn’t get help to stop being a “Victim” until I admitted it.

I wrote this poem that is at the beginning and end of Bloom In the Dark, to help others recognize the healing journey past denial. I wish I’d never been a “Victim,” but I had no choice about that. I do, however, have a choice about becoming an Ex-Victim. That is a title I am extremely proud of.

Definition of Ex-Victim: I AM NO LONGER A VICTIM!!!

I don’t want to admit I’m a “Victim”
Tainted by abuse
Feeling irrational fear and shame
Defensive and jaded
Frigid, stoic, rude
Rejecting before I get rejected

I don’t want to admit I’m a “Victim”
Who was too weak
To get away, to fight, to stop the pain
To stand up to the bully
Who killed my innocence
Who massacred my soul

I don’t want to be the “Victim”
Making mistakes
That cause more abuse
Broken choices that hurt me
I end up hurting others Instead of stopping the pain

I want to stop being a “Victim”
Attracting predators
Accepting abuse as my due
Putting myself at risk
Choosing to trust the wrong ones
Who just pretend to protect

Jesus, help me stop being a “Victim”
You became a victim for me
You hung naked on the cross
You bore my shame
You were bruised for my iniquities
By Your stripes, I am healed

I am no longer a “Victim”
Forgiven of sin
With wholeness of heart
Redeemed, healed and loved
My innocence restored
My soul saved

I am now an “Ex-Victim”
I testify of His grace
I was lost but am found
I was shattered but am restored
I am filled with relentless love
I am sharing it with others just like me

If you’re an Ex-Victim like me, join me in proudly telling the world. Please share with anyone who will be encouraged. Thanks

Jul 22, 2015 | I’ve been asked how this book, Bloom In the Dark, came to be. It’s been a lifetime process of darkness and pain followed by hope and healing. It’s funny how you take the light for granted until it’s gone. When it’s gone, you feel absolutely isolated and alone in your personal darkness. You feel like you’re the only one in the world experiencing the pain. At least that’s how I felt.

In the “Dear Reader” chapter of Bloom In the Dark, I tell about some of my healing journey. As I began to heal, I wanted to reach out to others experiencing personal darkness. The problem was that I had no idea who they were. I could be sitting next to her in church. Others sat next to me and had no clue what I was going through. So how to reach someone like me, still in that dark place?

I realized that I read books while I was hiding my hurt. If I had had a book that told me I wasn’t alone, I might have had more hope. I could read a book without admitting anything to anyone. What if that book gave me the hope I needed to get help? What if it helped me not to feel so hopeless and alone?

The book definitely couldn’t be theory or fairy tales. To actually give me hope, it would have to be real women sharing real stories of healing and redemption. But these dark holes are the ones that we never talk about. The shameful, embarrassing secrets. How do we tell those stories? That would be like being naked for the whole world to see. Showing your worst to everyone……the intro to the book is “Naked on Stage” which describes this feeling.

I started thinking about diving back into the darkness to describe it honestly. To join others in their darkness to share their testimonies. I told God, I definitely wasn’t strong enough to do this. He just reminded me that in my weakness, He’s made strong. Well, I am definitely weak enough for Him to be REALLY strong!!!

Even after I knew I had to do this, I spent a year arguing with God about why I couldn’t write this book. I was a single mom with a full time job. I was also homeschooling 3 boys. I obviously didn’t have the time.

God, I don’t know enough women with these testimonies. Who would really want to read this? I haven’t written creatively since college–other than marketing and promotional materials. I don’t know any publishers……..and every other excuse I could think of.

God didn’t argue, He just moved us away from all my busyness and then took away my job. I started asking Him why. God, why do you have me isolated? It’s beautiful here, and I know You wanted us here, but why? Is there something You really want me to do that I couldn’t do before? I have forty hours a week that were set aside for a job……and now I can’t seem to find a job….

Remember your testimony? Remember the book that would give hope to women who are hurting? Why can’t you write that now? He impressed on my spirit.

But how would I support us? Once again, He reminded me of His provision. He had always provided for us. Besides, I had some savings to tide us over. I could live on that for a while if I wrote really fast. It became increasingly clear that He would not open the next door for us until I obeyed Him about writing this book.

Over the last four months, God has been faithful to inspire, provide, and protect us. He has orchestrated so many miracles and “coincidences” to make this book happen. Even though I’ve cried more during this time than ever before, I’ve been more at peace and more full of joy as well. I wouldn’t trade this journey for all the treasure in the world.

All the women who have anonymously helped with this project have been blessed, healed and restored to new levels during this time. We’ve all gotten to experience the joy of testifying to God’s grace in helping each of us Bloom In the Dark. If you are hurting or have been hurt, we just want you to know that you’re not alone. There is hope and healing available through a relationship with Jesus Christ. And we’re praying for each of you who read our testimonies.

Looking forward to hearing back from you after you read Bloom In the Dark. Please share this blog and the link to www.bloominthedark.com. Thanks.

Jul 21, 2015 | I’m a mom of three boys. After growing up with four sisters and just one brother, I was thrilled to have sons. They were so cute and sweet. They liked to play outside, climb trees, ride bikes, and play with bugs. They could learn to hunt and fish with their dad. In fact, they could do all kinds of things with their dad, so they didn’t need me as much. Everything seemed to be just perfect.

Then my marriage fell apart. I ended up completely on my own, with sole custody of three boys. Somehow, that changed things. I’m a girl, a woman, a female, a lady–not like them. They are boys, men, male, gentlemen….a true revelation, right? They’re stuck with a girl to raise them.

I used to like to do outdoor things but over the years, with work and household responsibilities, I had stopped doing fun things outside. Actually, I wasn’t doing much of anything fun.

I don’t like playing video games. I don’t know how to hunt or fish. I don’t even own a bike. So I just focused on doing “mommy” things like taking care of their daily needs–food, clothes and a roof over their heads. I figured they would get the help with the “guy” stuff when I found a man. But, since I didn’t just want a place filler, it might be a long time.

I started feeling bad every time I thought, if only I had a man in my life to mentor them or teach them that skill or take them there….. I needed to provide that male role model for my boys by finding another husband, right? Whatever was wrong with me seemed to be making it really hard to find them a dad. I was failing. I realized that too many things were fitting in that category of “when I have a man.”

Then I read in Isaiah 54, where God says He’s the father to the fatherless. Did that mean that I didn’t have to find a man to help me with my kids? Did that mean that God could provide role models through family and the church? I suddenly felt very foolish. I had wasted two years by putting stuff off until “I have a man.”

I started thinking about what I could do with my boys without a man. I could drive four wheelers. I could shoot a gun. I could check the oil, change a tire, or wash a car. I could go hiking, ride scooters and roller skate. I could be adventurous and have a great time outdoors. I didn’t need a man to provide opportunities for my boys. Today, the boys and I jump into our truck with our roller skates or scooters. We play, ride, hike, and have all kinds of adventures. They also go on outings with the boys’ groups at church and spend time with their uncles. They are no longer missing out on boyish adventures. The biggest change for them has been that they get to do all kinds of things today, with their mom, instead of waiting for “someday” when a man is available. I’ve learned that I really like the boy stuff like shooting, riding, hiking, and playing outdoors! These things are a great getaway from my other responsibilities. Sometimes we are waiting for something to change before starting something important–even though we already have everything we need. What are you waiting for? Stop waiting. Start something today! If you enjoyed this post, please like, comment, subscribe and share.

Jul 18, 2015 | I just got home from meeting three other single moms who also homeschool their kids. Each of us felt alone and isolated. The homeschool and church groups we’ve attended have moms who stay home to teach their kids, but they all have husbands. They have the support of a breadwinner and a second parent. They usually do not have the betrayal, loss and pain at the same levels as we do, either.

Yes, we’re the exception to the rule. We have to earn the money, carry all the responsibility, run a household and be a full time teacher as well. Most single parents don’t homeschool because they feel overloaded just taking care of everything else. It’s challenging enough, without feeling like you are the only person in the world living this way.

We had found each other on Facebook and decided to meet. It was incredible how much help a couple of hours could be. We talked and laughed. We didn’t have to explain how it felt because we all knew. We had so many things in common: betrayal, loss, pain, resiliency, strong work ethic, adventurous spirit.

We all live in our “big girl panties.” We don’t understand quitting or giving up. We’ve heard about it, and even wanted to, but kept going anyway. We trust in God because we know we can’t trust in anyone else. We are a rare breed. We are unique, but thankfully, no longer alone.

I left feeling empowered. With God’s help, I really can do this. Each of us is already doing this. We can encourage each other, as only someone who’s been there, can. We will include our kids in our get-togethers because we all know how much a babysitter costs. Besides, we’d rather give our kids the chance to make new friends, too.

We’re used to multitasking and making every minute count. We can sit and relax in the middle of the chaos because we’re not having to explain ourselves and justify our choices. In this group, I’m normal and my choices make sense–what a relief! Share this story with others who feel like they’re the only ones in the world with their unique situation. Also, tell me about how you’ve chosen to be unique.

Jul 17, 2015 | I’m walking through the woods on a beautiful summer evening, wondering why God didn’t make me perfect. At eighteen, I feel like I should be put together. I’m an adult now, right? Shouldn’t I know who I am by now? But I’m not happy with who I am.

Everywhere I look, I see beauty. God made these beautiful trees, fluffy clouds, bright yellow flowers. They are so amazing! Then, I picture myself looking in the mirror this afternoon before my walk. I see myself as awkward, too skinny, wearing braces. My long blonde curls are pretty, and I like the color of my eyes but the rest of me is all wrong.….

God, why didn’t you just make me perfect?

I’m thinking that perfect means that I look like the Venezuelan Miss Universe with a warm complexion, high cheekbones, long wavy dark hair, big eyes, and the perfect figure. Perfect means no self doubt, absolute confidence, a permanent smile…. It means that my boyfriend would never have broken up with me. He would have wanted to marry me. Perfect–is what I’m not.

Then it hit me. I was talking to my Creator! In fact, I talk to Him all the time. Some people call that prayer or meditation. I call it a running dialog.

If you were perfect, you wouldn’t need ME was whispered in my soul. Of course I would still need Him. But if I was perfect, why would I need Him? Lucifer lost everything when he thought he no longer needed his creator. Would I really lose that dependence on Him if I didn’t have all my problems? I count on Him for everything. My heart and soul look to Him for meaning and help, constantly.

In your weakness, I am made strong suddenly took on an entirely different meaning for me. I didn’t need to be perfect to be the perfect vessel for Him to use for great things. Maybe I’m not perfect by my standards, but just maybe, God made me perfect for His plan for my life.

Jul 23, 2015 | Right now, I’m just excited about my life! To give you some perspective–I have no job and even child support didn’t show up this month; my boys are two months behind on finishing homeschool for the year; I just got soaked in the rain as I brought in the groceries; and my headache won’t seem to go away!

Why on earth be excited, right? Well, I’m following my dream of helping hurting women. My book, Bloom In the Dark is officially in print and on Kindle!!! Giving away a book for every book that sells means no profit for the first six thousand books sold ($89,700). These facts won’t stop me from appreciating the 6 books that have been pre-ordered on Kindle. Or celebrating the 13 paperbacks that people have already paid for. Each baby step means I’m following my dream and women will be helped.

I’m also excited that my two older boys both made 100% on their final science tests of the year and 96.5% and 97% on their spelling/vocabulary final tests!!! We have been working hard while others are taking the summer off. That’s what we get for taking time off to move twice, attend 3 summer camps, and travel before our school year was finished. Only one more day of tests and we’ll officially be on summer break–YAY!

Opportunities and open doors always give me hope for the future. When those doors open despite the big padlocks on them, I want to dance in the rain instead of carrying the groceries into the house! Today, two of those doors opened. When other doors are closed, I know it’s for my good. I can relax in the absolute certainty that my God has an amazing plan for my life.

When friends reach out to encourage and support me even though they should be telling me I’m crazy, I get emotional. Soon, the kids aren’t going to recognize me without tears pouring down my face…..happy tears–most of the time. The sad tears are from empathizing with the other Ex-Victims as I write their stories. Did you know that the good keyboards work even when they’re covered in tears?

Today, I am blessed! I am full of peace and joy! Not because circumstances are perfect, but because I have so much more to be thankful for than to be complaining about: an apartment, a vehicle, food, furniture, healthy children, purpose, a computer, and you reading this blog Be blessed today, too!

If you like these random thoughts and stories, please click on the follow button on your screen. You will get an email with each blog I post. I’d love for you to share them with your friends. I’d love to hear your stories of how you are blessed. We can all help and encourage each other!

Jul 16, 2015 | Today, as I walked away from the huge, fenced playground where my boys were playing together, I started thanking God for the good things in my life. I thanked Him for my three healthy boys playing well together, perfect weather, fluffy white clouds, a great park with a mile trail around it for me to stretch my legs. The breeze that felt wonderful as I power-walked the first mile.
Then I started thinking about what I was missing. I didn’t have a job to pay the bills. I had just moved here, and I didn’t have any friends or family nearby. I had just started going to a church, but hadn’t made friends there yet. I had met some amazing single moms who also homeschooled their kids, but they live too far away to meet more than once a month.

God, it would be really nice to have a friend to walk with.

As soon as I thought this, I remembered last year when my best friend died. I cried the whole six hour drive to her funeral. I was mad at God for taking her away. Then, when I started to thank Him that I had had such an amazing friend for eight years, I realized how blessed I was. Most people never have a friend that they can go through hell with and come out laughing.

Be the friend you want to have was whispering in my spirit.

Oh yeah, other people need that friend who doesn’t judge or criticise. The friend who will lovingly tell you the truth. The friend who will tell you to put on your big girl panties and get it done. The friend who can scheme with you about how to “get them back for hurting you,” but then remind you that God says to forgive. The friend that sticks closer than a brother. The friend who loves you when you are PMSing and can’t even tolerate yourself.

I had just lost that kind of friend, but that meant I knew what it felt like to be that friend. Over the next year, I made several friendships like that, but then I moved too far away to see them.

So when I saw the mom with her son walking ahead of me, I wondered if she needed a friend, too. I checked her hand for a wedding ring–nope. What if she was as lonely as I’d been? What if she didn’t have the courage to reach out? What if she needed the encouragement?

I stopped and talked to her son and then introduced myself to her. We walked the next half mile, talking. Then, we went to the playground to introduce the kids. My youngest son was the same age as hers. We talked for another hour while they played together. She was just as lonely as I was. Her divorce had messed up a lot of friendships and people were just too busy with their own lives. We laughed and cried. We both understood the pain of betrayal and the weight of carrying the load alone.

We agreed to meet at the park tomorrow and go to church together on Sunday. Our sons had such a great time together. Our only problem was getting them to leave each other. I don’t know the future, but I do know that being the friend has once again gotten me the friend I needed.

Oct 14, 2015 | by Paula Mosher Wallace | As a victim of childhood rape, I didn’t see how I could ever be a “vessel of honor” for God. As any child who’s been abused, I thought everything was my fault. As the years continued and different types of abuse piled up, I had absolute proof it must be my fault.

I must have been created warped and messed up. Like a child making a clay jar in school, God must have been having a bad day when He designed me. I was misshapen. I couldn’t stand straight. I had holes and bulges. I was incapable of holding anything.

Oh yeah, then I got thrown on the concrete and shattered. No matter how hard I worked to glue the pieces back together, I would never be better than the original misshapen vessel, right? But with cracks and scars…..

I must just be a vessel of dishonor. My role must be to make the vessels of honor look better. I saw others as beautifully crafted by an artist to display God’s glory. They could stand straight, hold water, decorate a palace. I wanted to be that kind of vessel, too. With ALL my heart.

Years of crying out to God didn’t change the brokenness or ugliness. I just seemed to get broken in more ways. The pieces never seemed to line up right when I tried to put them back together. I tried to do more, help more, be more. I cried out for God to make me a vessel of honor!

People who’ve never seen themselves as misshapen and broken, don’t seem to understand the hopelessness of my view. They think God just magically transforms the broken vessel into a beautiful one–like the fairy’s wand did for Cinderella. Instantly, a beautifully carved, gold vessel is where a broken vessel was. All I knew was that this did not happen for me.

One day, I was asking God why, despite all the healing in my life, I still saw myself that way. He gave me a vision that completely changed my perspective.

The vessel was misshapen, broken, and patched back together. It couldn’t stand or hold anything. Many had discarded it as useless and ugly. So it lay on the floor in the corner of a dark room.

Then a set of golden hands picked it up and held it. The hands completely covered and sealed the vessel. I no longer saw the vessel. Instead, I saw beautiful golden hands that radiated light. I watched as the hands tilted the vessel and golden liquid poured out.

The hands chose where, when, and how much liquid was poured. In fact, I forgot about the vessel. All I could see were the glowing hands of gold and the radiant liquid pouring out.

I suddenly realized that it wasn’t about me at all. It didn’t matter how I saw my vessel. I would become a vessel of honor when the hands held me, directed me, and poured through me. My usefulness or beauty was never about me in the first place. I was only as good as the hands holding me, the Spirit directing me, and the life pouring out of me.

I no longer have to worry about how I measure up or what people think of me. Without shame or guilt, I can expose my ugliness and brokenness. I can trust that as God holds and directs me, His life will pour through me into those He chooses.

This paradigm shift three years ago has enabled me to start walking in my calling to be an advocate for victims of all types of abuse. I get to write and speak to bring hope to other broken vessels like me.

For 30 more stories of our brokenness and His redemption, read, Bloom In the Dark. If you’d like to share your story of brokenness and redemption, please contact me through my website: www.bloominthedark.com. Thanks for the love, prayers and support for me, my family and the Bloom In the Dark mission. Paula