"Dear Golden Lady, won't you tell your story?"

She paused, dish rag in hand.

"Oh, I'd love, too."

That's one thing I love about her -- she is never too busy.

The Orphan Child sat at the Kitchen Table, eyeing her warily.

The Golden Lady had nothing to prove -- she just had a story to tell.

About her Heavenly Daddy. How He is Love. About the Healer. Hope. Rest. Peace. Finally Safe. Broken being made Beautiful.

By the time it was all said and done, the kitchen was clean. Golden Lady just reached out and offered to pray for this scared, hurting Orphan Child.

Despite the tears streaming down her cheeks -- maybe it was fear? -- the Orphan Child shook her head.

I felt so helpless. 

Hurt. Anger. Betrayal. Rejection.

Broken on multiple levels, an Orphan Child sat on the couch, glaring at me.

It was as if all the pain, all the fear, all the pride were taunting.

I couldn't fix it. I didn't have a magic fix. I could only tell of the Healer.

"At the end of the day, you must know Him.  You must touch Him. He is waiting. When you are ready, He will be waiting."

---

I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer.

You are yourself the answer. Before your face questions die away.

What other answer would suffice?

You alone are the Answer.

-- C.S. Lewis