It is sometimes difficult to see that God is paying even the slightest attention when our lives are a mess. I mean, where is He, exactly, when you really need Him? The "God is great," "God is good," and all the other "God is terrific" stuff is hard to find during times of turmoil and tragedy. I know I did not think God was so "great" when my now ex-husband was dragging me up a flight of stairs by my hair. No way was God "good" when my bones ached from punches and kicks, and my eyes burned from hot tears of despair and fear. God did not seem so "terrific" when I stared into the hate-filled eyes of my husband as he held a knife to my throat or a gun to my head and sneered, "If you scream one more time I will kill you." My parents divorced when I was young, leaving an emptiness in my heart I could never understand. As a teenager, I felt apart from girls my own age, and I rebelled strongly against any and all authority. I had given up on God long before I ran away at the age of fifteen to marry the eighteen year-old man who in one year went from being the love of my life to my abuser, jailer, kidnapper, rapist, and attempted murderer. By the time I was "sweet sixteen" there was no doubt in my mind-if God existed it was certainly not in my world. After the birth of my son and my divorce, both at the age of sixteen, there was no room in my life for anything but the here and now. Practical things consumed me, like going back to school, working, child care, housekeeping, paying bills, and learning how to be a mother. I was so very lost. I filled my days with busy take-charge tasks. I filled my nights with alcohol, drugs, parties, and self-destruction. I filled my soul with empty promises and emptier pursuits. Over the years, another marriage and divorce, several broken engagements, more than one abortion, and frequent extreme weight gains and losses left me even more emotionally crippled. Why couldn't I find happiness? Why did it seem as though nothing I did worked out? Why did I feel so worthless? The feelings of utter helplessness and hopelessness, the unrealized dreams, broken promises, and dead-end streets overwhelmed me. One summer evening I was taking a walk in my neighborhood when I noticed people going into the neighborhood church. Suddenly my legs developed a mind of their own, virtually propelling me up the steps and through the doors. Alone in the church balcony, I looked toward the pulpit and saw the statue of Jesus with outstretched hands, looking