Life hadn’t gone as I’d planned or wanted—#disappointed. The sweet wife and half a dozen kids lived somewhere else in my mind. I loved my parents, and though I’d isolated myself from my brothers, they were still family. My job had its perks, but the ups didn’t bring me the satisfaction I craved.

My heart hurt for relief without a name. I longed for a woman who might not survive. My leg hurt, and the pain meds put me to sleep. Mamaw had a few choice descriptions for whiners, and I fit them all.

Tonight one of Mamaw’s comparisons about faith and the universe stuck in my mind. She professed if Jesus created the universe and knew every dark-brown hair on my head, then He’d purposed a divine plan for my life. My role with the FBI—to help stop and prevent crimes—filled me with satisfaction. Volunteering with troubled teen boys packed another hole. But at forty years old, I still craved peace. My spirit wrestled with what I needed to do about blaming God for my disappointments. But anger punched my gut. Over fifteen years of animosity toward God was entrenched in my soul. I wanted it gone—forever. But I couldn’t relinquish control.

Unanswered questions about Shelby zoomed in and out of my mind. In the past, difficult cases kept me on task. Nothing drew me away from looming problems. No longer. Shelby had taken root in my heart, and I’d fallen for a convicted murderer, a woman I’d once loathed. What was I supposed to do with that? We’d texted a few times today. Thanks to Sheriff Wendall, he’d positioned an officer to keep an eye on Shelby’s cabin.

So many reasons I stared up at the sky and wished Mamaw would offer her sage advice. I breathed in deeply. Her words from long ago repeated in my mind. “Allen Denton, you need Jesus. Follow Him and you’ll feel a whole lot better about yourself and where you’re headed.”

I stared up at the Big Dipper and recalled another of her statements. “If God can hold up the stars in the sky, He’ll lead you through the mud that Satan slings your way.”

I was neck-deep in that mud—actually smellier than that. Brice’s constant immature comments frustrated me, but the source of my bitterness went deeper. I focused on my pain still evident after fifteen years.

I hadn’t forgiven Andy or Lisa for choosing each other.

Their happiness had shoved me into emotional paralysis. I blamed God for my broken heart when He could have stopped the marriage. Their two boys should have been mine.

And Shelby’s case . . . I blamed God for stealing my victory there too.

Easing onto the porch step, I fixed my gaze on the stars and planets that existed light-years away. Could a holy God who created the intricacies of the galaxy help me shake off the blame and unforgiveness in my life? Mamaw believed so, as well as my family and Shelby.