AcknowledgmentsTo Bill Bunting and Amy Bunting Storrie, my two cousins who shared bone marrow and the gift of life. I’m so sorry, Bill, that you are a boy and couldn’t be inducted into The Cousin Club. I love you dearly anyway.
To Katharine Conover, Executive Director of the Community Safety Network in Jackson Hole, for all the time you’ve given, the questions you’ve been willing to answer, the stories you’ve been able to share, and your passion for sheltering women who have nowhere else to turn.
To Sherrie Lord and to Barbara Campbell, whose days of fun and escape have become precious gifts from the Lord. This book would never be what it is without your thoughtful editorial comments, your laughter and, above all, your prayers. You have lifted me up as your sister in Christ, and have held me high. I can never repay what I owe you.
To my family at Hachette Book Group, Rolf Zettersten, Jamie Raab, Leslie Peterson, Elizabeth Marshall, Andrea Davis, Preston Cannon, and Kathie Johnson, for your enthusiasm and your belief in me. Thank you for running the race beside me. I count it all joy! Together, we offer up this work of our hearts and our hands to the Lord.
To Peter and Natalie Stewart, Megan and Eddie, for letting me borrow Brewster.
To Margaruitte and Bob Cornell, for your fiftieth wedding anniversary celebration, even though you did threaten to terrorize us on our wedding night.
To Judy Basye, Director of Oncology at St. John’s Hospital, for your willing heart and for all the lives you’ve touched here in Jackson Hole. This book would not be what it is without your research, insight, and advice. This town would not be what it is without your healing touch.
To my beloved family at the Jackson Hole Christian Center, to whom I am accountable and whom I love dearly, with sincere apologies to members of the presbytery committee, who work diligently.
To Kathryn Helmers, Agent 007, who stands beside me and makes me brave. You are proof that good things, when relinquished into the hand of the Master, reappear as rich treasure in our lives. Thank you for helping me cross into safety.
To Pam Micca, friend and counselor, for making me float Flat Creek with you, and for making me walk barefoot across the thistle pasture when my tube got sucked underwater.
To Joyce Bunting, my aunt, who was willing to share her heart.
To Lisa, who first made The Bunnery a wonderful place to write.
Finally, to K. and S., for your unfailing, honest faith in the Father, for standing on truth when everything else wobbled around you. It is because of your lives, because I’ve seen the miracle, that I can write this story with great boldness.