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The Magazine of The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America

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I'm here. I love you.

About 20 years ago I was raped outside my home in rural Indiana. I don't know why I'm still alive; I don't know why my assailant stopped strangling me. But suddenly, for no apparent reason, he said, "Don't move" and left.

My husband, Marty, and I had been married a year and a half. We weren't prepared for this — no one ever is.

The aftermath was as frightening for me as the rape itself. I felt isolated and vulnerable since the rapist knew where I lived. I started keeping a loaded shotgun nearby — even when I showered. I felt out of control, as scared of my emotions as I was of the rapist.



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November issue

NOVEMBER issue:

The ELCA's aging clergy wave

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