Some times, you read a book and find yourself the centre of the story. It puts what you have never been able to articulate, into meaningful sentences, leaving you feeling exposed and raw. It leaves you in tears and tears open the bandages you’ve covered over the wound that have not allowed it to heal. It has festered, and where you once had soft tissue, your heart has hardened. You find yourself in pain again, only you know it’s always been there and sometimes you’ve acknowledged it, but most times, you push it down. In trying to escape it you find you lose yourself and the confidence you once held. You don’t know the person you’ve become and you wonder when the struggle for peace and sanity ends. The book makes you realise that you might never totally heal and the things you are holding on to are things you know are choking the life out of you but you are not willing to let go because you don’t really know what else you have left. That’s what Francine Rivers’ Her daughter’s dream did for me and God I pray that somehow, you soften this heart.