Shade of Home

Shades of Home

Sarah learned from an early age that home wasn’t always a place of safety. The old wooden house on the outskirts of town creaked with ghosts of anger and despair. Her father, a man once full of promise, had lost himself to the bottle long before she was born. He was a towering figure with a voice like thunder, his words slurred by vodka and bitterness.

Her mother, a fragile woman with eyes that had long since lost their light, was a prisoner of fear. Every night, she braced herself for the storm—whether it came in the form of shattering glass, the crash of furniture, or the harsh sting of her husband’s hand. Sarah watched in silence, too young to stop it, too old to pretend it didn’t hurt.

From the time she was six, Sarah had learned to move quietly. She tiptoed through the house like a ghost, avoiding eye contact, knowing that even a misplaced glance could ignite her father’s rage. She had no siblings and her mother, though she tried to protect Sarah, had little strength left to shield her.

Then came the nights when her father turned his fury on Sarah. His words were daggers, telling her she was worthless, unwanted. And sometimes, the blows followed. Each strike bruised not only her skin but her spirit. She learned not to cry—tears only made him angrier.When the house was quiet, when the demons of alcohol had lulled her father into unconsciousness, she would have a bit of peace to do her homework and rest.At seventeenteen, Sarah made a decision. She was leaving.

She had nothing but hope that some day she will be free and have a diffrent kind of family. The night she left, the air was thick with the scent of cheap alcohol, her father passed out in his chair. Her mother stood by the door, tears streaming silently down her face.“Where will you go?” she whispered, voice trembling. Sarah shook her head. “Anywhere but here.”

Sarah hesitated. She had dreamed of this moment for years, but now, standing in the doorway, fear gripped her. What if she failed? What if the world was just as cruel as the home she was leaving?Then, deep within her, she heard it—**a voice, not her own, whispering, “Go.” So, she left in the middle of the night with no direction

The first weeks were the hardest. She slept on park benches, in shelters when they had room. She found odd jobs—cleaning, washing dishes—anything to survive. Some nights, when hunger clawed at her stomach, she wondered if she had made a mistake.She wept that night for the first time in years.

As months passed, Sarah found her way. She got a stable job at a small café, and with the help of a kind friend, she was able to rent a tiny apartment. It wasn’t much—just a mattress on the floor, a secondhand table, and a Bible by her bed—but it was hers

Every night, she prayed. Not the desperate, broken prayers of before, but prayers of gratitude. She was still healing, still learning to silence the echoes of her father’s voice telling her she would never be enough. But she was free.

One day, she met a young boy, no older than she had been when she first dreamed of escaping. The boy had bruises on his arms, a haunted look in his eyes. Sarah sat with him, held his hand, and whispered the words she had once longed to hear:“You are loved. You are seen. You are not alone.”For the first time, Sarah saw her pain as something else.She realized that God hadn’t just saved her from something but He had saved her for something.

Years passed, and Sarah became a counselor for women escaping abusive homes. She stood before them, strong and whole, sharing her story, showing them that healing was possible.

One evening, as she was closing the center, a familiar voice called her name.She turned and there stood her mother, older now, weary, but full of joy for seeing her little girl,who now was a mature woman wich was doing something so amazing that never even dared to dream about . “I left him,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “I didn’t think I could, but I remembered what you did. And I found a church… they helped me.” Sarah pulled her mother into her arms, sobbing she couldn t bevive after so so much time she was still alive and actually was able to find her .That night, as she sat in her small but warm home, she looked at the Bible beside her and thanked God Almighty that ,He gaved her power and the will to win this battle aginst abusive family ,keeped her pushing it into the unknown fearfull or not ,never giving up on her dream to just be free. Older now, wiser now beeing able to help other people to go on with life ,encuraging them to be brave and work hard to become a better person was all she wanted to do,wasnt about gain anymore,was abot saveing the lives of those who needed the most help,those like her ,oane and never again.Sarah smiled. She was free after all,more free then she ever tought is possible,now she and her mother are reunited and forming a family as she was supposed to have from the first place.Both are helping others to find Christ and heal all of their wounds wich were never supposed to be there in the first place . After all who is best to help u overcove pain if not someone who actually overcomed it already not alone indeed but by the power and mercy on Jesus Christ of Nazareth.Everything that happends to us is meant to brake us into makeing us the best version of ourselves.

"When the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed." – Joh8:36