"I'm completely, totally alone."
"Silly child." Her foster-mother slapped one hand lying lax on the table. "You know that's not true at all. You got me, you got my boys, and you got God. That means you got everything."
"Don't talk to me about God. Ricky always used God like a big stick to keep me down. I figure, if God wouldn't straighten him out, God won't help me--"
"Have you asked Him?"
Hope caught her breath, feeling like the question had slapped her in the face. If night after night, muffling her sobs in her pillow and asking God why, asking how she and the children could get along, counted as asking, then yes, she had asked God. Until she decided that He wasn't listening anymore.
"I've got no use for the kind of God they talk about at that church. If He's so all-powerful and knows everything, why do I have to ask Him for anything?"
"That's okay. I can see why you'd feel that way." Iris chuckled when Hope sat back, stunned by her calm reaction. "Although, from all the discussions we've had over the years, it escapes me how you can still think the people at that church know anything about the living God, about the Savior who gave His life for them. Still, I've been in situations where I understand how you feel, and why. But if you don't mind, I'll ask for you."