Preface
I am no stranger to terrifyingly dark nights. I know what lingering despair and isolation can do to the human soul. My story, however, is not about darkness, but about discovering my light and divinity in the midst of utter darkness—of realizing that despite the horrors of my childhood and circumstances thrust upon me, I had choices.
As chaos and crises erupted all around me, I carefully watched and experimented with choices of my own. Eventually I realized that I could either choose to continue the unhealthy traditions of my family, or I could choose to break the chains. One step at a time, one choice at a time, I consciously began to create something new—something healthier . . . Despite this shift, however, hidden deep inside where no one could see—where I wouldn’t let anyone see—a sinister black hole lurked. It refused to be filled, no matter what I did. Food didn’t fill it. Material goods couldn’t touch it. Relationships and religion sometimes shifted my focus, but eventually that raw, nagging darkness would intrude unbearably into everyday life. Like black holes in space that suck energy from the surrounding universe, my life was being robbed of joy and passion from within my own self.
Then quite suddenly, before I could prepare myself, before I was ready or even wanted to be, my seven-year-old daughter, Aspen, ignored the nails, locks, and buttresses of my secrecy. She asked an innocent question, expecting an honest answer.
“Mommy, where is your daddy?” my daughter asked, her eyes full of open curiosity. “Everybody has a daddy. You have to have a daddy, too, don’t you?”
Aspen’s questioning brought me literally to my knees. This was the child I reassured every night that there was no such thing as monsters. How was I supposed to tell her that some monsters were real? How was I supposed to tell her about her grandfather?
Your grandfather is a serial murderer. He is locked away in prison for the rest of his life because of the atrocities he has committed . . .
Being honest with Aspen would mean facing what the world considered a demon. It would also mean that I would have to face the demons within my own self. To choose change—true, honest change—meant bringing light into all of my dark places, including that seemingly unfathomable black hole within me. I did not reveal anything to Aspen that day about her grandfather, but my mind couldn’t stop racing. Should I let her grandfather be a part of her life? As a person of faith, wasn’t I supposed to believe that the human soul could change? Did I give him that chance? Or were there inherent dangers lurking—the ones I had been furiously trying to protect her from?
I felt I had no clearly defined answers. I couldn’t find a single book on the subject. The few people I entrusted with my inner battle seemed as bewildered as I was. This is a question that has faced millions of people—the skeleton in the family closet—and even after a millennia of the human experience, most of the time, the issue is not spoken of openly. Shame and humiliation win out, and the deadly silence continues.
You are only as sick as your secrets . . .
I’d had enough of the sickness, the secret-keeping, the blame, and my racing mind. I got on the internet and wrote a letter. As I pressed send, I knew I was changing my life forever, and maybe that of many others. Magically, some of the darkness within me began to lift . . .
That one act has created a huge ripple, for I have learned that we are all connected. I am never alone. Not one of us is every really alone. And now I know I am in the perfect place at the perfect time, telling my story to those who have been searching for answers within the dark crevasses of their own souls. I know that I am bringing light into that darkness. I know that I am literally breaking the chains of horror, secrecy, and devastation, for I am a child of Light.
Do you ever wonder who you are?
Do you ever wonder as you stare into the stars?
Where you began and how you got this far . . . from home.
Have you ever walked along the shore?
Have you ever seen the water dancing back and forth?
Did you look inside to see if there was more . . . to life?
Well, there’s a dream taking wing.
There’s a voice that wants to sing.
Even in the deepest, darkest night.
The torch is raised to the sky.
There are hands that hold it high.
You were born to keep it burning bright.
You were made to fly.
You were meant to shine.
Child of Light.
You will never, ever stand alone.
You were never called to bare the burdens on your own.
Where there is fear, love will take control, and lead you on . . . .
Well, there’s a dream taking wing.
There’s a voice that wants to sing.
Even in the deepest, darkest night.
The torch is raised to the sky.
There are hands that hold it high.
You were born to keep it burning bright.
You were made to fly.
You were meant to shine.
Child of Light.
(Printed with permission. Child of Light by Mindy Gledhill, copyright 2004).
