I've known dysfunction since I was a little girl. My mother was a loving, devoted Christian, but my father was a man haunted by his own scars, and those scars often filled our house with chaos.
When I was four, I gave my life to Jesus, and I'm grateful because if He hadn't become a part of my life at an early age then I wouldn't be here.
My father didn't want me-he told me so. He made me feel unloved and worthless.
Later in my teen years, things got worse: More chaos! My dad's angry, drunken rampages. I spent so many nights huddled in the corner of my room, in the dark, in tears.
Then on Septe...