Why I wrote the book The Secrets in the Walls

I wrote Secrets in the Walls as courage for broken people.

I know I’m not always surrounded by brokenness, but I’ve seen it, I’ve felt it, and I know how heavy it can be. Whatever your struggles are, I want you to know this: I see you. I hear you. You are not alone.

You are not defined by your struggles, by your pain, or by the shadows in your past. There is hope—for healing, for finding love, for finding people you can trust.

I know that finding love can be really tough for people who have grown up in brokenness and your heart is calcified, and it feels like you will never get through and there will never be sunshine. I want you to know that there is hope.

I wrote this book because the story of foster care speaks deeply to me. There are so many children growing up in brokenness, carrying wounds into adulthood, and the cycle just keeps repeating. The Secrets in the Walls follows Manoah, a boy raised in that world of fracture and survival. And yet, in the middle of all that brokenness, he discovers love—in Ophelia Mayberry, the girl next door. I’m not saying that this is the solution but I wanted to show that if someone grows up in an environment where they are loved and they are seen, that’s what creates this totality of wholesomeness.

Ophelia isn’t perfect. She’s prickly, sharp-edged. She comes from a family with its own flaws—a racist mother, a father who works a lot but HE IS present. So, she is loved. And because she is loved, she carries a kind of wholeness, a resilience. And that resilience met with Manoah’s open-hearted and forgiving nature, is just a explosive mixture that can lead to hope and that’s what I love about this book.

I think if you feel broken, that can be the answer where you look for wholeness in people or wholeness in areas that you feel broken in. I know we’re inherently drawn to people who share our pain, who are broken too but actually this is just perpetrates the cycle. If you look for wholesomeness, copy people who are that thing you’re after, that can lead to freedom, that can break the chain, and can release you from that cycle of brokenness.

That’s why I wrote this book, as a beacon of hope and light into your hearts.

There’s a Japanese art form called kintsugi—the practice of repairing broken pottery with Japanese lacquer dusted with powdered gold. The cracks don’t disappear; they are filled, illuminated, and made beautiful. The vessel becomes stronger, more valuable than before.

That’s what I believe about broken people. You may carry scars, but you are not beyond repair. You can be made whole again. And in that wholeness, there is light.

You can find my book here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DYHPDF3R