Behind Closed Doors
We've all heard the saying about not knowing what goes on in other people's homes. For some, we are the story no one sees. Yesterday I was flipping TV channels and stopped on the cable channel ID . A show was profiling true crime stories. I watch those once in awhile and began listening as I crocheted. First I heard the name of the town I had lived in 10 years ago. Interesting. Then I heard the last name of some former neighbors. Coincidence. When I heard their first names I looked up. What? Staring back at me was an old family photo of our neighbors and former small group members with the children my daughter once babysat. We lived a bike ride away on the other side of the hill from their palatial home and watched the elaborate gardens, pool and landscaping be installed over a summer. They were the glamorous family most people in our church fawned over - always looking like they stepped out of a magazine and doing something exciting that cost more money than we ce...