Anyone who’s struggled with an addiction of some sort would agree that finding lasting contentment from the actual addiction is much like a dog chasing its tail—only a lot less adorable. Let Me Fall is the love story between God and His dimwitted daughter. I’m the dimwit in case you were wondering. As a grown woman, it pains me to admit that the catalyst for this story was my obsession with Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight saga, and the despair immediately following my reading it. If my despair were merely of the lighthearted, “oh darn I chipped a nail” variety, you wouldn’t be reading this book description. But it wasn’t, and you are. As in most tales of woe, I hit rock-bottom, which meant all my nails got chipped. Fearing the savage state of my cuticles as well as my heart, I finally called out to Father God for help. Spoiler Alert: He showed up with a spiritual defibrillator. Let Me Fall is where my literal world figuratively collides with God as He shows me more of who I am and who He is. My story isn’t a formula for falling in love with God. But I would be thrilled if it is a catalyst for others to do the same.