I used to be "that woman from the cult." The one you pecked out your window to watch as I spewed my rage at the top of my lungs to tell the world about the man who lived down the street. The police officer responded by saying I handled the situation appropriately. He said, "I know people who would kill for less." It has been an arduous road to recovery. Through it all, I can see how God heard every one of my desperate prayers. He has blessed me with healing and the fulfillment of my heart's desires. Now I want to stand on a hill and sing how He will "...console those who mourn in Zion, to give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they may be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified." (Isaiah 61:3 NKJV)