First, I have to tell you that I’m not Abigail. I’m a teenager who had some pretty serious issues. I want to tell you my story – well, at least part of it. But first I want to explain what happened last night that got me riled up.

Our beloved husband and dearest friend in all the world often spends time reading out loud with us – sometimes I read to him but mostly he reads to me. One of the types of books we like to read about are books about Amish. We have read a variety of authors who write on this theme and have been pretty pleased…until last night.

Have you ever had someone in your life who occasionally would approach you with one arm extended towards you and a hearty smile on their face as they walk briskly over to you, looking like they intended to enfold you in a warm, loving embrace. But the other arm is hidden from sight behind his back and balled up into a tight fist. You let them approach in expectation of a warm embrace but when they get close enough to hug you the fist comes out and punches you hard in the stomach or back. Then they (and often their buddies who were standing around and were in on the joke) laugh uproariously at your vulnerability and gullibility to fall for the joke again.

We have had several persons like that at different times in our life. Cruel and hurtful people who thoroughly enjoyed making us look foolish. One of them was our first husband.

So what does this have to do with reading Amish stories together w/ our Beloved? Last night we ended a trilogy and at the very end, right after the two heroes of the stories finally got married, The last chapter felt like the author gave us a huge punch to the stomach – for no other reason that he was the author and could end it any way he liked. But it took our breath away. It brought back countless times a brother, a husband, a boyfriend, a pychiatrist did the very same thing, and I cried the rest of the night.

Tomorrow I will tell you my story, if I get an opportunity at the computer again that soon.