CHAPTER 57
It’s Sunday afternoon. The blizzard outside hasn’t even thought to let up. Grandma Lucy’s been praying so long over me, my mind’s been wandering all over the place. To Chris. Reginald. My perfect little baby on the morning of her delivery.
By the time Grandma Lucy says, “Amen,” I realize I’ve been daydreaming nearly the entire time. I can’t remember a single word of her prayer.
She looks at me. I feel like I’m ten years old and my mom is scrutinizing me to see if my hair is combed nicely enough for picture day at school.
“Your road hasn’t been an easy one.”
I offer a slight half-smile at the understatement.
“But God wants to bring beauty to your pain, reap gladness from the seeds of your hurt.” It’s nice poetry, but I’m not thinking about that right now. I’m thinking about
