Desperate for Love
I met Allison Miller 17 years ago in a single parents’ group at North Atlanta Church. She was my neighbor, my friend, and I baptized her youngest daughter. When times were difficult, I stood by her, and she by me. Our relationship took a pause because of marriage, but about 6 years ago we reconnected. I have watched her transformation, her desire to find an intimate relationship with the Lord, and what she has found in her healing process. During this time she wrote a book on her life. Following is my foreword to her book and an excerpt that is a fascinating look into one experience she took while on her journey.
"This book takes you on a journey from rejection, to deception, to addictive infection and leads you into God's perfect place of protection. It is brutally honest and shows you the bruised and battered heart of a little girl looking for Prince Charming. She finally finds him, but not where she was looking." GY
From Desperate For Love, Chapter 12, "Bloodstains On The Sofa" (after a hospital stay for post surgery bleeding.)
"After convalescing at my Mom's I returned home to be with my husband, but I still spent a lot of time on the couch and in the bed to restore my strength and sanity. I was taking several medications related to my surgery, hormone changes, and for depression. One night, after getting the girls bathed and to sleep, I was awakened by the sound of the door opening from the garage to the kitchen. Eric and I had been in a major fight earlier in the week, so he had left home and was spending time with his friends. I had a bad feeling.
With my heart racing, I listened closely as I slowly inched my hand between the weight of the mattress and box spring on my side of the bed and wrapped my hand around the butt of the .38 caliber pistol my mom had given me for self defense in my previous marriage. I wasn't positive who was in the house, but I was prepared. I know it sounds crazy, but I thought if I didn't move, whoever it was might not bother me and go away. The weight of the mattress helped still my hand as I gripped the gun. I kept my eyes on the doorway.
When he entered the room I could tell by the outline of the shadow, it was Eric. I asked, "What can I get for you?" I could tell by the way he was staggering toward me he was drunk or high. Rather than answer he punched me in the face. It felt like a brick hit me in the head and I felt dizzy, but it also kicked in my adrenaline. When he hit me, my hand was still on the loaded gun. I pulled the gun out, sat up and pointed it at him. "Get out of here, get out now, you need to go."
I hadn't counted on him wrestling the gun away from me and pointing it back at my face. He slurred his words, "Now what are you going to do you little (word deleted for this blog)?" The sound of one of my girls crying out distracted him, and I was somehow able to grab the gun from his hand. By now he was more tired than hostile, and he staggered out the bedroom door and up the hallway. Grabbing a loaded gun from the hands from a drunken man in the heat of a battle was crazy, but in reflection, I see how I was protected and given the courage and strength I needed at the time.
I waited a couple of minutes, and then I inched my way up the hallway, stepping carefully so not to cause the creaking floorboards underneath the carpet to give me away. There was no sound other than voices coming from the television in the living room ahead of me, so I figured he was asleep. I walked toward the sofa, one of the few pieces of furniture I cherished from my first marriage, and saw him lying there, snoring, already passed out.
I lifted the gun, pointed it at his head while biting my lower lip, and peered through the site to make sure I would not miss. Then I had a strange thought: If I shoot him now, the blood will ruin my sofa."
(A few paragraphs later)
"I vividly recall sitting in the courtroom waiting to stand in front of the judge for a final ruling. My husband leaned toward me and whispered, "Are you sure you want a divorce?" I didn't say a word, but I know he saw goodbye in my eyes, I had never been so sure of anything in my life."
This is a great book for anyone to read, but especially for women for a wide variety of reasons. This is a true story of how God can fix a shattered heart that was in a self-destruct mode, and reconstruct it with his amazing love. As a man I read Allison’s book thinking of all the mistakes I made in marriage and how tender is the heart of the woman sharing your life with you. As she so aptly says, what you do not know will hurt you. Before we are able to choose to love someone, it is best to take the time to find out how unloved we or our mates have really been.
I will have some books you can buy or you can go to her website at allisonmmiller.com/shop and order for yourself. And, thank you Allison for the courage to be honest and for your desire to help others find the Right Man, before they find the other right man!
excerpts reprinted with the author's permission
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Glenn is an ex-Marine Viet Nam vet who is also a recovering alcoholic, clean and sober for 30 years. He has been involved in start up and ongoing recovery ministry at North Atlanta Church and Campus for the last two decades. He has a passion for outreach and to spread the message that the answer to lasting and fulfilling recovery from addiction is in a relationship with Jesus Christ. He and the ATB team are available to assist in your questions or needs on an individual basis and will do so maintaining complete confidentiality. You may e-mail him at email@example.com.