At five years old, I hid in a dark closet during a home invasion, holding my infant siblings while armed men terrorized my family. At ten, I watched my father walk away with regret in his eyes and suitcases in his hands. At forty-eight, I walked away from the church that had defined my adult life for twenty-eight years.

Three different crushing moments. One devastating pattern: trusted people becoming crushing heels, and safety becoming a source of pain.

But here's what I discovered in the wreckage, inspired by Mark Twain’s insight that "forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it": violets are designed to be crushed. Their sweetest fragrance doesn't emerge from perfect conditions but from pressure that seems intended to destroy them. And when the heel comes down, we have a choice: become bitter or release fragrance.

Forgiveness is the Fragrance picks up where my first memoir, Turtles Win Rabbit Races, left off. This isn't just another church-hurt story or a manual for getting over betrayal. It's an honest exploration of what happens after the crushing, how trauma can prepare us to help others heal, how manipulation can teach us discernment, and how our deepest wounds can become sources of our most beautiful healing.