She wakes day after day from restless sleep to find herself living every mother’s nightmare—watching her son, the second of her five children, wither away from the ravages of cancer. He depends on her to survive. They all depend on her. Their needs move her feet and guide her hands. 

As a single mom, she is beyond tired. Her soul grows weary. Every waking minute laced with fear for her son’s tomorrows. Each sleeping minute entangled with fear from her childhood yesterdays. As her head hits the pillow at night, haunting memories of abuse return without invitation. Dark basements with ominous figures. Attics with swinging belts. And utter, encompassing loneliness.  

Her very existence seems to be a revolving door of hopelessness until a mysterious box appears in her mailbox with a beautifully handwritten note … But no signature, no return address. No clue as to its sender. Her hands explore the brown paper as her heart ponders its secrets. Scriptures, long forgotten, from her childhood days flash through her mind. She has not thought about God in many years. How could a loving God allow her to live through the pain and abuse that she’s endured? Is the God of her childhood trying to speak to her? Will opening this gift pierce the darkness looming in her soul?