May 3, 2006 Dear Ronda, I'll never forget the night you gave me my blanket. You asked me to meet you before church on a Wednesday night. When I got into your car you handed me a simple brown box and a cream colored envelope. My fingers trembled as I opened that envelope and pulled out the letter you had written to me. The words on the page were strong with emotion, and I could feel my eyes burn with tears. (Even four years later that letter still brings tears to my eyes). After I finished reading it, I placed the letter carefully back into the envelope, and then my attention was drawn to the box sitting in my lap. I peeled back the cardboard flaps to find a beautiful blanket. Even now when I remember that moment the tears flow freely. The blanket was made with bright fleece fabric on one side and a simple white on the other. It was held together with hand-tied knots all the way around its edges. I gingerly pulled the blanket to my cheek, then cradled it in my arms as I walked to my car. It sat close beside me on my drive home; I couldn't stop the tears. I had known you only a short while but I felt as if you knew what secret lay hidden deep within my heart. You were the first person that I ever told, the first to learn about the sexual abuse I had endured as a child, beginning when I was just eight-years-old.  Memories of it would haunt me at night and would keep me from being able to sleep. You gave me that blanket to help comfort me on those nights when sleep wouldn't come. The blanket gave me the only safe place to run, a place to hide away all my tears. My blanket wrapped me in warm safety as I sat on the living room floor telling my parents about the abuse. Even to this day my blanket comforts me when I am in a session with my counselor. This blanket has no special powers; it doesn't make life all better. But getting this blanket from someone who cares, just knowing that this blanket has been prayed for, that's what make it's so special. Lisa* (used by permission) *name has been changed Your Gift Touched My Life