1974 was the year the world lost its head.
Before my parents’ divorce was final, I saw a warning that the adults missed. I remember being chased across the yard by a headless chicken—a body still moving, still attacking, even though the life was gone. It was a grotesque image of the chaos that was starting to chase my family, but no one seemed to notice the danger but me.
I needed an escape. I found it in the old Chicken House. My grandparents had seen my need for a place of my own; they had spent the time cleaning out all the remnants of the chickens and the straw, telling me it was mine now, my very own playhouse.
It was a place of weathered wood and drifting dust, but because they had prepared it for me, it felt like a cathedral. In that quiet light, the “headless” chaos of the yard couldn’t reach me. I could finally breathe.
As many of you may know, even sanctuaries can be invaded.
The peace of that place was broken by an evil that no child should ever have to face. In an instant, the one place I felt safe was violated. For a long time, I thought that “tarnish” was all that was left of me.
Because 1974 wasn’t just a hard year; it was a shattered year. The things that happened in that chicken house, and the darkness that followed, left me feeling like a vessel that could never be whole again. I know what it’s like to live in the silence of shame.
I wasn’t alone in that dust. I know now that Jesus was walking that dark path right alongside me. He didn’t look away from the shattered pieces; He was there to gather them.
I want the brokenhearted to know that your “violated” places do not define you. God is waiting with open arms to take back every inch of ground the enemy tried to steal. My sanctuary was invaded, yes—but my soul was being prepared for a Legacy.
If you’re living in the “Rest of the Story” today, know that the light is stronger than the shadows. We aren’t hiding anymore.

National Suicide & Crisis Lifeline: Call or text 988
National Domestic Violence Hotline: Call 1-800-799-7233 or text START to 88788
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