Sitting upright on his cold bed, looking at the razor blade he traded a meal for, his thoughts were frantically racing. Facing over two decades in a cold concrete cell was challenging his thoughts, his courage, his hope. Was warm blood dripping onto the cold floor a solution?
Was it the way out of a living hell?
Suddenly, there was a shift in the dreary atmosphere. Almost like a gentle breeze blowing across the lonely room. Hope. Purpose. Life!
A touch from Holy Spirit – a loving touch that without a single utterance, spoke to his wounded heart.
Too many years of feeling filthy, dirty, and rotten to the very core had left Giles in a place of abandonment. He ……