All was quiet as the young girl pretended to be asleep. She had said a prayer he wouldn't return. She kept mumbling to herself, over and over the same words, "Please don't let him come, please don't let him come." But he did. Night after night.
The smell of alcohol on his breath would stain the girl's memory. It was a nightmare. When she ought to be fast in slumber after a bedtime story and good night kiss, she found herself terrorized instead, waiting each night for the inevitable.
This little girl, whose stepfather would wait until everyone was in bed and all was still, would lie shivering as he made his stealthy, evil walk to her bed where he would ravage her childhood. It all began at age five and didn't end until she was near her teens.
Each time he finished taking another piece of her happiness, he would whisper, "If you tell your mom, she won't believe you." Oh, how many times she wanted to tell. Her heart screamed from within, but no one ever heard it.
Finally, after a few years had past, the girl summoned the courage to tell her mom the dreadful news. And just as her dad had prophesized, her mom called her a liar. That night, he paid another noctural visit and afterward, with whisky fresh on his breath, he uttered, "I told you so."
It took her older sister to finally come forward and support her story, and later two cousins to share the times he had tried to hurt them. The little girl's mom threw her stepfather out and the madness stopped.
Years would pass, but the horror remained vivid in her mind. Every night when she curled up to sleep, she would wait for the sound of the creaking door as it opened, but it didn't. She was never really sure if he was gone or if it was just a dream.
In time, this girl would grow to be a woman and embark on a quest to fulfill her dream of becoming a teacher. She left home and moved far away to attend college. "Out of sight, out of mind," she thought. 300 miles from home gave her some measure of security.
It was while she in college she met her future husband. She called him her "Knight" and "Savior." What she didn't know is he felt the same way about her.
You see, I'm that little girl's husband. She rescued me from myself and didn't even realize it. I remember her waking up in the middle of the night, startled and shaking. I'd jump and ask, "What's wrong?" She would breathe a sigh of relief and say she heard a noise that sounded all too familiar. It was the wind--maybe God's breath--reminding her he was there and so was I and she didn't have to worry anymore.
My wife grew to be a brilliant, fragrant daisy. They say plants need plenty of sunshine and water to survive. But my daisy grew in darkness, emerging strong and vibrant.
She's a teacher now and lives her dream. I get to live mine every day, too. I should say I get to live WITH mine each day.
My daisy grows in God's light and reflects that everywhere she goes. She still carries with her the painful memories of her shattered childhood, but she has taught me a valuable lesson about forgiveness, which is something she made a point to tell her dad before we got married. She let him know he was forgiven and I've never seen a man hurt as bad as he did that day.
If she can forgive him for something like that, then I can forgive others for lesser offenses.
She's my daisy. From darkness into the light she grew and from the light she shines.
TFR
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