" I don’t care what the shameful voices in your head tell you, or the deafening lies that the memories whisper. I don’t care if you’re reading this from a prison cell staring at decades in the face, or from the plush comfort of first class staring out over the shimmering face of the Pacific. We’re all broken, all walk with a limp. Here is the truth about you and me: even when in a far-off country, wasted life, stripped bare, smeared, squandered, nothing but scar tissue and shameful, self-inflicted wounds, the love of the Father finds the son and daughter. He finds us. This "

― Charles Martin , Long Way Gone