I know of a house
down an old gravel road
with a white picket fence
and a small red door

Through that door
I took my first steps.
Scaling that fence
I scraped both my knees
But it was there, on that old gravel road,
I lost my faith in love.

The walls of that house
held a crumbling family
with cracks too deep for repair.
My heart, like the paint, was chipped, tattered, and torn
desiring a tender, fatherly hand.

Then came the storm
which destroyed that house,
yet hid another we never expected.
He left us for a better life, and took all that we had
leaving my mother to pick through the shambles.

I watched him drive off,
down that old gravel road,
and knew I'd never trust in love again.
But God had a plan,
for my mom and me.
It started in the arms of friends.

Acts of kindness
broke new ground
with shovels of hope and redemption.
We began to rebuild
our home and our life
on a foundation that could never be shaken.