Proof The Bible Is True

My husband, James, was a drinker. We’d been married 15 years, and every day he wasn’t working he hit the bars as soon as they opened. Beer after beer washed down shot after shot of whiskey. Then he’d come home and scream at me, “You’re nothing!”

That particular summer afternoon, James stumbled in and snarled, “Gimme some money.” I didn’t have any. I was terrified he’d start hitting me. Again. Abruptly, James staggered toward me and knocked me over. Then he went out, slamming the screen door behind him. I heard his truck squeal out of our driveway while I lay on the floor, sobbing.

I can’t go on like this, Lord. After picking myself up and snatching my keys, I left the house. For the last time, I thought as I got into my Plymouth Duster. In my mind, one of us had to die for this situation to end. And I was going to be the one.

I headed toward the bridge, intent upon driving my car off it. I had that utter sense of clarity that overwhelming despair sometimes brings. It’s the only way, I thought.

Read More  The Little Blond Angel – Guideposts.