I never knew my dad. After Mom died, my uncle got me addicted to drugs. He taught me to steal in order to fuel his drug habit. His crimes grew increasingly bold, even tying up an old man to take all he owned. Finally, out of control, my uncle beat up a cop and was arrested. I never saw him again. Numb and alone, I didn’t know what to do. After I ate all the food in our small apartment I walked away without a backwards glance.

Sneaking onto a train, I traveled to a big city. What could a worthless person like me do? Beg? Before I could start, a policeman found me and took me to a man with soft eyes, who asked me if I wanted to go to school like the other kids. I sobbed. Didn’t they know I was a criminal? Why were they being nice to me? They took me to a place with soft beds, clean water, and new friends. It was wonderful! I felt…loved. Though no one said it, I knew THAT was the feeling I’d been missing.

After a lifetime of proving my worth by how much I could steal, I learned my value was in who God created me to be. Educated. Safe. Loved. Finally, I knew that I was home.