Chapter One: Valley & Stone 3 of 5

THE VALLEY OF COUNTERFEIT LOVE

I also remember evenings when we’d all be in the living room, the glow of the television filling the space, and I would curl up beside him on the couch. My mom worked nights at Bend Mill Works, and during those times, his touch would cross boundaries I didn’t yet know how to name. Over time, I began to mistake this inappropriate attention for love, sometimes even seeking it out in my longing for closeness and affirmation.

Now, as I journey through healing, I have asked God to help me remember the good as well as the painful. I hold to the promise in Psalm 103:2: “Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits.” I trust Him to redeem even the most difficult memories and to weave them into a story of restoration.

THE STONE OF GRACE - Learning the Difference Between Love and Use

For years, this memory carried shame. Not just because boundaries were crossed. But because I sometimes leaned toward the attention. That part was hard to admit. It confused me. It made me question myself. Why would I seek out something that harmed me? Why would my body interpret that proximity as comfort?

As I’ve healed, God has been patient with that question. I used to read Psalm 103 as a general praise Psalm. Gratitude, blessing, a reminder not to forget God’s goodness. “Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits” (Psalm 103:2). But as I’ve grown in the Word, that verse has become more personal. David isn’t denying pain. He’s reminding his own soul that God’s benefits don’t disappear because of suffering. He heals diseases. He redeems life from the pit. He crowns with steadfast love and mercy.

What struck me wasn’t the poetry. It was the order. Redeems→Crowns→Satisfies with good. When I looked back at those evenings on the couch, I realized something uncomfortable but freeing: I wasn’t seeking sin. I was seeking love.

Children are wired for closeness. When a caregiver crosses a boundary, the child doesn’t suddenly gain adult moral clarity. The child adapts. The body learns to attach to whatever affection is available. That wasn’t seduction. That was survival.

Over time, God has gently untangled that wiring. He’s shown me the difference between love and use. Between tenderness and control. Between affection that protects and affection that consumes. That’s been one of the most powerful aspects of healing. He hasn’t just forgiven my confusion. He’s retrained my understanding of love.

Now when I read Psalm 103, I don’t just see forgiveness of sins. I see restoration of appetite. “He satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.”

There were things I once mistook for good because they met a need for closeness. But they weren’t good. They were substitutes. Today, when I feel that old pull toward affirmation or attention, I pause differently. I’ve learned to ask: Is this love that protects? Or attention that consumes? That discernment is a Stone of Grace.

What was once distorted doesn’t get to define my capacity for love. Christ doesn’t exploit longing. He fulfills it without violating it. And that distinction has changed how I live, how I lead, and how I counsel women who carry similar confusion. The valley taught me how easily affection can be twisted. The Stone taught me what real love looks like.