SOMETIMES AN AUTHOR
sits around for weeks charting plotlines and developing characters before beginning to write. And sometimes an author is engaging in the glamorous task of vacuuming her apartment when the freckle-dusted face of a four-year-old pops into her mind. I was still living in Germany when Shayla’s soulful eyes first distracted me from my chores. I can remember the exact section of ratty carpeting I was working on when her gaze flashed across my consciousness with a hint of complex history. I turned off the vacuum and gave the apparition a moment’s thought, then shook my head at my flight of fancy and resumed the job at hand. But not for long.
Minutes later, the vacuum stood abandoned in the living room while I curled up in my bed with my laptop and began to type. I had no idea, at that moment, of the zigzagging path the story would take between present and past, nor did I foresee the characters who would come to flesh it out. But as Shelby appeared and stole the spotlight from Shayla, as Gus and Bev ushered Scott into her life, and as present-day muddlehood led back to darker huddlehoods, I realized that Shayla’s face might have been more than merely an excuse to stop Saturday chores.
For the better part of the following nine days, I let myself be guided by the characters—watching them evolve as they suffered, dreamed, and overcame. The Huddle Hut emerged out of Shelby’s and Trey’s minds, not mine, as did Geronimo, swinging chins, and that crazy Vira Snurdly. Trey himself was unplanned, yet he wove his way into the fabric of the narrative. He started out as “Kerr,” but my fingers kept typing “Trey,” so I gave in to the story’s wishes and dutifully made the change. Even now, with the novel approaching publication, I feel it as a creation that breathes in spite of me, and the process that birthed it remains in great part a mystery.
But I hope
In Broken Places
is much more than a tale of huts, hurdles, and the power to overcome. Child abuse is a destructive force. It slithers and marches; it whispers and roars. It either weakens or hardens its victims, but it never leaves them unscathed. If you or someone you know is being victimized, please call the National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE.
My sincerest prayer is that the pages of this book will shed a compassionate light on the ravages of child abuse, its soul-crippling tyranny and deep-rooted legacy. Pain need not win. There is life beyond bleeding. There is love beyond fearing. There is hope beyond despairing. I should know . . .
I am a survivor.
BORN IN FRANCE
to an American mother and a Canadian father, Michèle Phoenix is an international writer with multicultural sensitivities. A graduate of Wheaton College, she spent twenty years teaching at Black Forest Academy, a school in Germany for missionaries’ children.
Michèle fought two different forms of cancer in 2008, a challenge that caused her to reevaluate the direction of her life. In 2010, armed with a desire to broaden the imprint of her remaining years, she returned to the States to launch a new ministry for and about missionaries’ kids (MKs).
Now living in Illinois, Michèle serves with Global Outreach Mission as an MK advocate, speaking, writing, and educating the North American church about the unique strengths and struggles of missionaries’ children.
Her first book,
Tangled Ashes
, was released in 2012. Visit
michelephoenix.com
for more information.