A lonely foster child searching for love discovered that even in his darkest moments, he was never truly alone.

That Little Boy Inside of Me — Part 2: The Night I Found Hope

There are some things a little boy needs that cannot be bought, explained, or promised. Sometimes all he wants is someone to hold him and show him that love exists.

I was that little boy.

When I think back to my childhood, I remember having an imaginary friend. I cannot remember the name anymore. But I remember what that friend meant to me. In my mind, we sat beside each other, trying to figure out a world I did not understand. I could tell that friend my problems, what I was thinking, and what was going on inside my mind.

My friend never judged me. Never interrupted me. Never told me that what I felt was wrong. That friend simply listened. And in those moments, I felt peace. I also felt peace with God.

I was not a child who understood everything. I was a child trying to survive the circumstances around me. There is a difference, and it matters.

At the farmhouse, I experienced abuse. What stayed with me was not only the trauma, but the feeling that when I needed comfort most, nobody came to help me. I wanted someone to be with me. I wanted someone to show me, through actions rather than words, that my little soul mattered.

There were times I was locked in a dark room at my foster parents' house. Sometimes I talked to my imaginary friend. Other times I wrote my feelings in a Roebuck's catalog I had taken and kept in my room.

I remember the words I wrote.

“I love you. I love you, I love you. I love you, no I love you.”

I did not write those words because I needed someone to give me a speech about love. I wanted someone to hold me. I wanted to know, through that comfort, that love could exist.

Think about that for a moment. A child can repeat the words “I love you” and still be searching for what those words feel like. I know because I was that child.

Sometimes, in my mind, my imaginary friend sat beside me. We did not have answers to everything. We were simply there, trying to make sense of the world. That companionship gave me a place to put feelings I could not otherwise share.

One night at the two-story farmhouse, I remember looking out toward the barn. I was eight years old. I was carrying so much pain that I wanted to jump out of the window.

I have told that part of my life before, in my story about the farmhouse. I am not returning to it to repeat every painful detail. I am returning because of what happened next.

I went back to my bed and prayed one more time.

I remember an angel wrapping her wings around me. That is how I experienced that moment, and it changed my life.

I felt the release of pain. I felt hope. I felt loved. I felt that I could move forward in life.

The circumstances of my childhood did not suddenly become easy. But something inside me had changed. I could look at my life and believe that I was not entirely alone.

I had two who cared about me: God and my imaginary friend. I told myself I was not alone. I could stay calm and trust the journey ahead.

Today, looking back, I understand things that I could not have understood at eight years old. I believe God gave me hope, light, love, and forgiveness. He did not judge me. My faith in Jesus, who died for my sins, became part of how I understood those gifts.

But I will never pretend that the little boy in that room had the wisdom of the man telling this story today. He did not know what all those trials would mean. He was trying to get through them. He was trying to find a reason to keep moving forward.

Sometimes the greatest comfort is not in what somebody says. It is in what they do. A child who is hurting may not need an explanation. He may simply need someone to sit beside him, hold him, and let him feel safe.

I did not have all of that when I needed it. But I found moments of peace in my imagination and in my faith. And on that night at the farmhouse, I felt hope when I desperately needed it.

I have learned that sometimes in life you have to let go of your worries, stay calm, and trust the journey. That is a lesson I can name today, after living through so much more than that little boy could have imagined.

And if there is one thing I want you to carry from this part of my story, it is this:

“Sometimes in life we have different roadmaps and different detours. But remember this: when you get lost, sometimes you have to go back to yourself and find yourself again.”

That little boy was still there. He was still searching. But he had found a reason to keep going.