All alone, she sat in the back of the church. The rest of the 500 women at the women's conference that weekend had already exited the auditorium. I was gathering up my books, papers, and props when I saw her at the back of the room.

I walked over to where she was sitting; her head was bowed low, and her shoulders were drooping. I sat down, and she began to tell me her story.

She was the mother of three. Her oldest son, suffering from muscular dystrophy, had been confined to a wheelchair for most of his 17 years. Her other two children had a variety of learning and emotional challenges.

With her head still bent, she whispered, "I'm married to a mean, hateful man who makes my life miserable. He won't help me with our son. He even refuses to help while I hold our son when he goes to the bathroom.

"I buried my father this week," the woman continued. "At the funeral I learned that my father had disinherited me from his estate because he hated my husband."

Then she told me something that still haunts me: "I came this weekend with one prayer," she said. "I asked God to kill my husband. I prayed, 'Lord, I need a way out! I feel like a bird in a cage.' "

Finally she lifted her eyes and said, "When I prayed that prayer, God spoke to me as clearly as I've ever sensed His voice. He said, 'Even a bird in a cage sings.' "

With tears running down her face she asked, "What am I supposed to do with that? How do I live with that answer?"

Feeling utterly impotent, I replied, "If God says, 'sing,' you need to find your song."