One particularly sleepless night, Debbie sat on her bed, her hands trembling as she opened her journal. She hadn't written in weeks, but something inside her compelled her to start again.
She wrote about her pain, her loneliness, and her longing for Pasco. But as the words poured out, a new thought emerged
—What if this isn't the end?
She didn't know where the thought came from, but it was there, a quiet whisper amidst the chaos of her mind.
For the first time in weeks, she began to pray not just for strength, but for clarity. "God," she whispered, her voice cracking, "I don't know what I'm doing. I feel so lost.
Please, show me the way. Help me find a reason to keep going."