Chocolate chip cookies weren’t something I expected to see when I walked into the sup-port group meeting for domestic violence survivors. I felt uneasy sharing the secret I’d kept for years, but I grabbed a folding chair and helped myself to a cookie.
“All homemade,” the social worker who welcomed me said. “A gift from our church volunteers.” She nodded toward the back of the room, where a few people stood by the door. They didn’t join us when the meeting started, just lent moral support. I was touched, thinking
