In my mind's eye, a little girl crouches in a dark and cluttered hallway closet. Mountains of stuff fill this tiny room, where she remains hidden from everyone and everything. Besides the stuff of anger and doubt in this small space, the walls have writing on them that names the fears, insecurities, and reasons for shielding herself from the unfamiliar and the unknown. Many times, the little girl tries to exit her safe place. With a mask of self-prescribed extroversion, she determinedly leaves the four walls of her secret domain to be good at things and people-a good student, wife, even a mother. Hesitantly, she tells herself that hope and joy are within reach. But after a short stay away from the security of the hallway closet, the little girl goes back inside and continues hiding from life.

I was that young girl. I did not want to live this way any longer, so I cried out to God-who had been with me all along. He knew my pain, insecurities, anger, and fear. Bigger than any wall of self-protection I built, God would bring down these walls if I let him. My crying out was the first step.