To the editor:
The first Christmas after my dad remarried. I was 9. I got a Barbie, Ken and their Dream House. It was made of heavy cardboard. I put it together with my dad. Tab A went into slot B, etc. It folded up into a suitcase like storage box with furniture pieces tucked inside. It was my all-time favorite gift. I sometimes wish I still had it.
The summer after that Christmas, I was playing with my Barbie and Ken and their Dream House. I'm really not sure what triggered it, but my stepmother transformed before my eyes. It was the day the beatings started. It was the last time I remember playing with my favorite childhood toy. It was the last happy memory I have of my childhood. My cardboard Dream House, Barbie and Ken were banished to an out building we had. They didn't survive the leaks and the weather over the years.
Just as Barbie and Ken were banished to the out building, I was banished to the backside of the house where I spent many hours and days alone. I spent most of my days, imagining what it would be like when I would leave my prison. I had a small New Testament Bible, not sure how it came into my possession. I played a game where I would make a wish and then open my Bible and upon finding the phrase, "And it came to pass," my wish would come true. I wished for a new life, wished I'd be able to drink and eat when I wanted. I wished for someone to rescue me. Somehow reading that phrase in that Bible, whose words I didn't understand, gave me hope.
For me, a childhood game of wishes, became prayers to God and He heard me. John 6:35 reads: Jesus said, "I am the bread of life, He who comes to me shall never hunger, and he who believes in Me shall never thirst." And it came to pass ... My wishes came true, He rescued me, I no longer hunger and thirst and I have a new life.
Over 50 years ago, while playing my childhood game, I didn't realize the power I held in my hands. Today I still open my Bible, and on its pages, I still find hope.