We, as a people, spend a great deal of time being afraid. Sometimes, we don’t call it “fear.” We call it lesser things like “worry” or “anxiety,” but let’s face it: it’s fear. Fear of the future, fear of the present, fear of the past, fear of others, fear of ourselves. Very rarely, fear of God.
There is such a thing as healthy fear, and I’ll get to that in a minute. But there are two primary types of crippling fear – the spontaneous and the pre-conceived notion.
Spontaneous fear, there is nothing we can do about. It can sometimes accurately be called “startle.” For example, I awoke in the middle of a dark night to make a bathroom run. While making proper use of the facilities, a camel cricket jumped INTO my pants. That’s a whole new kind of fear right there, the kind that can keep you up the rest of the night unless you take control of it.
The only way to handle spontaneous fear is to give yourself a proper moment, then move on. You can’t predict it, so you can’t prevent it, but you can limit its ability to take over your mind.
The other kind of dangerous fear is the pre-conceived notion, for lack of a better term. This is where you know something could potentially happen, so you fixate on it and ignore all possible other events.
Recently, I took a family trip to Tennessee to visit my grandmother. It’s a trip I rarely make, and one of the reasons for that is the bounty of snake stories she tells. I don’t like snakes (neither does she), so why put myself in a place where they are highly probable to appear? Even for the love of Grandma, it’s a tough situation to consciously submit to.
I stayed mostly in the house the first couple of days, avoiding the wildlife outside. When the puppy I took with me needed to go outside, I never went alone. Sometimes, I didn’t take her at all. I would not risk running into one of these things and ruining my vacation!
Late the second night, someone else took the puppy outside to potty before bed. Night was falling, but the security light illuminated just enough space to see…the water moccasin. Grandma took the hoe and chopped it in three pieces, then left it in the driveway for identification by sunlight the next day. I have to admit, I had trouble falling asleep that night.
I knew it! I told myself. That lousy snake showed up and ruined everything, just like I knew it would! Why, God? Why can’t I just enjoy a weekend at Grandma’s?
Then I realized – before that snake slithered across the driveway, even if it had never shown up at all, it ruined my time with Grandma before I even left Franklin. The mere thought of it, nay, obsession, took over any joy I could have had in those first few days. It stole those precious moments.
The next day, I sat out on the patio and walked down to the lake. If I saw one, I saw one, but I couldn’t let it keep me inside any longer. Fear is not a good way to live.
This second type of fear can also make us very irrational. I always slept each night with a series of lights on (and for awhile, slept with the TV on in case the power went out and the light stopped working). It took me two decades to figure out how absolutely irrational that was and to change it. (Have you found the flaw yet?)
Yet for all the time we spend being afraid, we rarely experience healthy fear. Healthy fear, as in the fear of God, is not really fear at all; it is more deference. It is respect. It is knowing that what we face is bigger or more powerful than ourselves, so we take a step back in humility.
Fear of God is not hiding under a rock waiting for lightning to strike. It’s not continually working harder to avoid the pit of Hell for all eternity. It’s not even the small fear of being caught, of peeking around every corner before doing something bad, just to make sure He’s not watching.
Fear of God is rooted in love. It’s stepping out into the open and humbling yourself to His care. It’s trusting Him to know you, but to love you anyway – a virtue higher than any that most of us can find in ourselves. It’s refusing to do bad whether or not you think He’s watching because you understand His greatness relative to your flesh. It’s recognizing His significance in contrast to your own relative insignificance.
So you stand, or kneel, in deference to His power, love, mercy, omniscience, grace, and so on and so on ad nauseum.
That’s the difference. It’s just the opposite of what we consider fear. Instead of living in constant obsession, fearing the possible, you free your mind through healthy fear. You free yourself into something Greater, rather than painting yourself into a corner.
Isn’t it weird to consider that the right fear can actually set us free?
Friday, October 9, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Wrestling with the Heart
My heart is in a troubled place, torn between freedom and captivity, between the past and the future, between God and the world. It’s an interesting place to try and process.
When, as a little girl, I dreamed of all the things I might do when I grew up, of all that I might be. Compared with the fantasies of others, it was highly realistic. I didn’t dream of going to the moon or being the president or walking on water. No, I wanted to go to college, graduate, land a successful job, find a husband, and have a family. It’s just that simple. But I might as well have dreamed about being an astronaut.
Life saw things differently for me. A lot of people make good, strong friendships throughout their years, growing up in a wonderful network of fellowship. That was not possible for me, not given my situation. So I find myself now, at age 24, with many acquaintances, but few friends. Actually, there is no one that I “hang out” with. And in pain, self-protection, and anger – that never used to bother me. But as I find my freedom, it is kind of a hard pill to swallow.
Here I am, 15 months after graduating college with an impressive academic record, and I find myself unemployed and alone. It is a life I am highly unsatisfied with, frustrated to the point of tears. I cry often over shattered dreams, of things that have not worked out as I would have liked.
Yet, as disappointed as I am over shattered dreams, I am also cognizant of the fact that God is still doing wonderful things in my life. I can’t imagine another path for myself. If life had not gone precisely the way it has, I would not know the pain of healing that I now deal with everyday. It’s a beautiful feeling. It’s like peeling the scab off a wound and exposing it to fresh air – it stings, but it also feels surprisingly good, freeing.
My freedom grows more concrete every day. I am able to think about things in a whole new way, to consider more possibilities and really open myself up to whatever it is God is (slowly) unfolding in my life. Sometimes, it even seems clear that He is purposely withholding a job so that I can focus on telling my story, on the healing process He’s begun within me and wants so badly to finish, now that I will let Him.
Physically, freedom reigns, too. Mom has a new boyfriend, and they spend quite a lot of time together, which leaves me home alone to “nest.” That’s what I call it, anyway, and it’s something I haven’t ever done and didn’t notice I was doing until I’d already done it. I’ve never had a place called home, but the more time I find myself alone in this place, I wonder, “Why can’t I make it more comfortable for me? Why can’t I make it conducive to living here and growing here?” So I change little things around the house, clean up here and there, and really just have a whole different vibe in my body when I walk around this place and think of it as my HOME. (And, I like the alone time to spread my wings a little and just experiment with the great things inside of me that God is revealing, one by one. Though, I am not condoning alone time. I’d still like some friends.)
But what I am also finding is that if you want something, go out and get it. There shouldn’t be anything stopping you when what you want is good and holy. I didn’t feel very well today, struggling with something I am not quite ready to reveal. But there was in my heart some things that I wanted to get accomplished, so I did them. When you’re in the house long enough, you start to get afraid of outside. As a kid, bugs and dirt did not bother me, but now, the thought of one gnat keeps me inside sometimes. It’s that strong of a hold when you lock yourself away. But I needed to take some photos, capture some images of sacred places before they are totally destroyed (as they are already destroyed a bit by urban development). So I loaded my big dog, Kiira, in the car, and we went hiking through the woods. For nearly half an hour. I wasn’t scared or grossed out, and I didn’t want to come home. And I didn’t feel sick in the woods like I have in this house for the past few days. Other stuff, I accomplished, too.
I’m waiting for God to move in my life. I want Him to move and bring about the glory that will come to Him through me. I want a job. I want a husband. I want a family. I want friends. And I’m willing to do whatever God requires to get that. I’ve even been thinking very seriously lately about moving. In my head, I narrowed it down to Oregon or South Carolina – places with good weather. But I also was told about a possible opportunity last week in Colorado. So you just never know.
I used to see myself staying here forever. Growing up and staying the same and just settling in for the familiar life. That seemed beautiful to me. It doesn’t any more. The only thing that seems beautiful is to get what God is giving, to take what He offers. And to embrace my freedom, gather my strength, and do more than just live another day.
When, as a little girl, I dreamed of all the things I might do when I grew up, of all that I might be. Compared with the fantasies of others, it was highly realistic. I didn’t dream of going to the moon or being the president or walking on water. No, I wanted to go to college, graduate, land a successful job, find a husband, and have a family. It’s just that simple. But I might as well have dreamed about being an astronaut.
Life saw things differently for me. A lot of people make good, strong friendships throughout their years, growing up in a wonderful network of fellowship. That was not possible for me, not given my situation. So I find myself now, at age 24, with many acquaintances, but few friends. Actually, there is no one that I “hang out” with. And in pain, self-protection, and anger – that never used to bother me. But as I find my freedom, it is kind of a hard pill to swallow.
Here I am, 15 months after graduating college with an impressive academic record, and I find myself unemployed and alone. It is a life I am highly unsatisfied with, frustrated to the point of tears. I cry often over shattered dreams, of things that have not worked out as I would have liked.
Yet, as disappointed as I am over shattered dreams, I am also cognizant of the fact that God is still doing wonderful things in my life. I can’t imagine another path for myself. If life had not gone precisely the way it has, I would not know the pain of healing that I now deal with everyday. It’s a beautiful feeling. It’s like peeling the scab off a wound and exposing it to fresh air – it stings, but it also feels surprisingly good, freeing.
My freedom grows more concrete every day. I am able to think about things in a whole new way, to consider more possibilities and really open myself up to whatever it is God is (slowly) unfolding in my life. Sometimes, it even seems clear that He is purposely withholding a job so that I can focus on telling my story, on the healing process He’s begun within me and wants so badly to finish, now that I will let Him.
Physically, freedom reigns, too. Mom has a new boyfriend, and they spend quite a lot of time together, which leaves me home alone to “nest.” That’s what I call it, anyway, and it’s something I haven’t ever done and didn’t notice I was doing until I’d already done it. I’ve never had a place called home, but the more time I find myself alone in this place, I wonder, “Why can’t I make it more comfortable for me? Why can’t I make it conducive to living here and growing here?” So I change little things around the house, clean up here and there, and really just have a whole different vibe in my body when I walk around this place and think of it as my HOME. (And, I like the alone time to spread my wings a little and just experiment with the great things inside of me that God is revealing, one by one. Though, I am not condoning alone time. I’d still like some friends.)
But what I am also finding is that if you want something, go out and get it. There shouldn’t be anything stopping you when what you want is good and holy. I didn’t feel very well today, struggling with something I am not quite ready to reveal. But there was in my heart some things that I wanted to get accomplished, so I did them. When you’re in the house long enough, you start to get afraid of outside. As a kid, bugs and dirt did not bother me, but now, the thought of one gnat keeps me inside sometimes. It’s that strong of a hold when you lock yourself away. But I needed to take some photos, capture some images of sacred places before they are totally destroyed (as they are already destroyed a bit by urban development). So I loaded my big dog, Kiira, in the car, and we went hiking through the woods. For nearly half an hour. I wasn’t scared or grossed out, and I didn’t want to come home. And I didn’t feel sick in the woods like I have in this house for the past few days. Other stuff, I accomplished, too.
I’m waiting for God to move in my life. I want Him to move and bring about the glory that will come to Him through me. I want a job. I want a husband. I want a family. I want friends. And I’m willing to do whatever God requires to get that. I’ve even been thinking very seriously lately about moving. In my head, I narrowed it down to Oregon or South Carolina – places with good weather. But I also was told about a possible opportunity last week in Colorado. So you just never know.
I used to see myself staying here forever. Growing up and staying the same and just settling in for the familiar life. That seemed beautiful to me. It doesn’t any more. The only thing that seems beautiful is to get what God is giving, to take what He offers. And to embrace my freedom, gather my strength, and do more than just live another day.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
New Heart and the Center of Peace
I need to get a couple of things off my heart, if that’s ok.
First, it seems to me that some people tend to get mired in the past. That’s ok, but it just doesn’t work for me. Because the problem is – they are not mired in their past, but in mine. Yes, for several years, I struggled with illness that limited me in many ways. But those days are mostly gone. With the right diagnosis and the right treatment, life has been slowly getting back to normal. And today’s reality is this: seldom does health prevent me any more from doing what I need or want to do. Sure, there are days when allergies get the best of me or fatigue sets in, but doesn’t EVERYONE have those days? I think they do. So you can understand why it pains me so much to miss out on something due to allergies or a simple case of bronchitis (which I’ve gotten twice a year almost my whole life) or something similar, piddly, and normal…only to have someone look at me and say, “Yeah, but you’re always sick.” Seriously? Have these people not been paying attention? I’m NOT always sick. I am always BLESSED. And it is ok for me to come down with a seasonal something and not have it marred by the past. It just seems the equivalent of you accidentally peeing your pants caught in a traffic jam (which could be normal, depending on who you are) and someone you knew in preschool happens to see you and declares, loudly and publicly, “Yeah, but you always pee your pants.” Maybe you haven’t since you were 3, but for some reason, that is all they will ever know or expect from you. And that’s tough. It’s really tough when people look at you, get stuck in your past, and never expect anything better. Because then, despite how much better you are, despite days upon days and months upon months of success, they will never notice that. They will wait for the next time you pee your pants, then use that as evidence to support their point.
Please, my friends, acknowledge the healing power of God in my life and do not hold me to my past.
Second, I want to talk a little bit about calm, relating to the kind of peace that I have found. The storms here yesterday were rather impressive. For while, I had a deep and profound fear of storms that I couldn’t quite place my finger on (and honestly? I’m still not too fond of lightning). As the storms rolled through yesterday, I began in peace. That is because God has removed from me the spirit of fear as of the past many months, and most of the time, I can grasp the peace that He offers in its place. But as time drug on, I found anxiety trying to settle in. And it suddenly struck me what was going on! The anxiety came from a lack of a calm center. All I could see was the storm, all I knew was the raging winds and hammering rain and constant thunder. So I felt myself being tossed about, as if exposed. When I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and realized that everything around me and in me stayed firmly planted, that the bed did not move, the desk did not move, the floor and the ceiling and the walls did not move…it was then that I realized no matter the storm outside, the inside stayed stable. It had peace and firmness. And then, I wasn’t afraid any more. That is what the peace of God does to a person. It gives her a firm, stable place where she knows that nothing is moving, nothing is changing, and no matter how things outside of that peace may be tossed around, nothing inside moves. God plants Himself firmly in the heart, and it is from here that peace and calmness generate.
Finally, I love my new self. Not mired in the past. Free from the heavy burdens that for so long, I have carried. Unafraid to try, even though success is never a guarantee, since the only failure is never to try. And yeah, I have had deep, deep sadness here lately, but it is probably not as you think. From my position of healing, I’ve undertaken the project of writing my story, preparing my autobiography. So many stories out there will tell you all the bad things that can happen, but I want to go deeper and include the healing, as well. People need to know that no matter how bad it is, there is healing out there and it is available to all. God is available to all. As I go through my past, putting words to pain, the sadness does come. For the first time, my heart responds honestly to my own story, which is SO cool. But the sadness does not come alone. It is not the same kind of sadness that draws people to hit rock bottom, for beneath my sadness, there are no rocks. It lays on a bed of hope, strength, peace, and healing. So it is really a dichotomy of feeling – the very low lows of the honest heart, but not without the wonderful gifts and blessings of God to even it out. I’m just allowing myself to feel all of those things and not be afraid. It’s really cool.
That’s what is on my heart this morning. Thank you for letting me share.
First, it seems to me that some people tend to get mired in the past. That’s ok, but it just doesn’t work for me. Because the problem is – they are not mired in their past, but in mine. Yes, for several years, I struggled with illness that limited me in many ways. But those days are mostly gone. With the right diagnosis and the right treatment, life has been slowly getting back to normal. And today’s reality is this: seldom does health prevent me any more from doing what I need or want to do. Sure, there are days when allergies get the best of me or fatigue sets in, but doesn’t EVERYONE have those days? I think they do. So you can understand why it pains me so much to miss out on something due to allergies or a simple case of bronchitis (which I’ve gotten twice a year almost my whole life) or something similar, piddly, and normal…only to have someone look at me and say, “Yeah, but you’re always sick.” Seriously? Have these people not been paying attention? I’m NOT always sick. I am always BLESSED. And it is ok for me to come down with a seasonal something and not have it marred by the past. It just seems the equivalent of you accidentally peeing your pants caught in a traffic jam (which could be normal, depending on who you are) and someone you knew in preschool happens to see you and declares, loudly and publicly, “Yeah, but you always pee your pants.” Maybe you haven’t since you were 3, but for some reason, that is all they will ever know or expect from you. And that’s tough. It’s really tough when people look at you, get stuck in your past, and never expect anything better. Because then, despite how much better you are, despite days upon days and months upon months of success, they will never notice that. They will wait for the next time you pee your pants, then use that as evidence to support their point.
Please, my friends, acknowledge the healing power of God in my life and do not hold me to my past.
Second, I want to talk a little bit about calm, relating to the kind of peace that I have found. The storms here yesterday were rather impressive. For while, I had a deep and profound fear of storms that I couldn’t quite place my finger on (and honestly? I’m still not too fond of lightning). As the storms rolled through yesterday, I began in peace. That is because God has removed from me the spirit of fear as of the past many months, and most of the time, I can grasp the peace that He offers in its place. But as time drug on, I found anxiety trying to settle in. And it suddenly struck me what was going on! The anxiety came from a lack of a calm center. All I could see was the storm, all I knew was the raging winds and hammering rain and constant thunder. So I felt myself being tossed about, as if exposed. When I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and realized that everything around me and in me stayed firmly planted, that the bed did not move, the desk did not move, the floor and the ceiling and the walls did not move…it was then that I realized no matter the storm outside, the inside stayed stable. It had peace and firmness. And then, I wasn’t afraid any more. That is what the peace of God does to a person. It gives her a firm, stable place where she knows that nothing is moving, nothing is changing, and no matter how things outside of that peace may be tossed around, nothing inside moves. God plants Himself firmly in the heart, and it is from here that peace and calmness generate.
Finally, I love my new self. Not mired in the past. Free from the heavy burdens that for so long, I have carried. Unafraid to try, even though success is never a guarantee, since the only failure is never to try. And yeah, I have had deep, deep sadness here lately, but it is probably not as you think. From my position of healing, I’ve undertaken the project of writing my story, preparing my autobiography. So many stories out there will tell you all the bad things that can happen, but I want to go deeper and include the healing, as well. People need to know that no matter how bad it is, there is healing out there and it is available to all. God is available to all. As I go through my past, putting words to pain, the sadness does come. For the first time, my heart responds honestly to my own story, which is SO cool. But the sadness does not come alone. It is not the same kind of sadness that draws people to hit rock bottom, for beneath my sadness, there are no rocks. It lays on a bed of hope, strength, peace, and healing. So it is really a dichotomy of feeling – the very low lows of the honest heart, but not without the wonderful gifts and blessings of God to even it out. I’m just allowing myself to feel all of those things and not be afraid. It’s really cool.
That’s what is on my heart this morning. Thank you for letting me share.
Friday, July 31, 2009
As My Heart Bursts...
I am finding in these times, as I draw nearer to God for the strength that simply does not live in me, certain things are changing. It pulls on my heart in very powerful ways, but frustrating!Where once my heart stood hardened, now it softens. It aches for the pains of others - for the love of my dog (Kiira, my protector) who now faces old age (she is 10), for the fear in the heart of the young mother who used to attend my church whose 6-month-old daughter got run over by a car, for the grief in the hearts of those in my church who lost their loved one today, for my mother who seeks but does not find, for my brothers and their wives who face uncertainty, and so on the list goes. These things, which normally ran off my back like water from a downspout, now stop me in my tracks. They bring tears to my eyes and a soft (or sometimes painful) ache to my heart.And perhaps I noticed this strongly last night, as well. The 11-o'clock news reported a break-in in my town, where two men posed as federal agents and took a house by storm to rob it. My initial response was fear, fear for my own safety. But as I laid in bed thinking about it, sadness overtook me, overtook even the fear. What was breaking the hearts of these young men that they needed to resort to this? What was missing in their lives? What could I offer them?Which brings me to another point. As I connect more with my Father who has healed me (and continues to heal me), I find that my heart bursts. It vibrates with the knowledge, or the belief, that it IS within me to bring healing to others. I close my eyes, and I can see the healing pour from my heart to my hands and outward. It seems nothing is beyond the reach of God's healing power in me. And yet, despite my desperate attempts, my desperate pleas, I am unable to bring this healing to fruition. I can't get it out of my heart and into the world, which frustrates me to no end. I want to help, I want to heal. Not for my own glory, but for God's. The world needs to know He is still here, still powerful, and still willing to heal her.It's hard to live with a vulnerable heart in this way. I'd be lying if I said I've gotten a lot less sleep as God has worked in me and given me this tender spot. How can I rest when the brokenness and neediness of the world echoes in my Spirit day and night? And yet, I cannot yet find the harness to this power.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Unrest and Freedom
And where in your spirit have you found such unrest?
Spirit? What is that? Is it that place of pain, that horrible memory that so long ago died? I believe it must be, for I know not what you speak of.
And yet, I am getting a glimpse.
Something strange has been happening to me lately, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t God and I didn’t love it.
for years, I’ve been bound by brokenness. Brokenness on all levels of my being – emotional, spiritual, physical.
At the emotional level, severe abuse chipped away my core for so many years (and in some ways, still tries to do so) that I could look in the mirror and no longer see anything – no girl, no woman, no face. I didn’t even know myself, more than to know I was unloved, unwanted, a monster. It didn’t really hurt so bad, not back then. What really hurt was love, and there were many who loved me well. From teachers to ministers to everyone in between, it pained my heart (physically, most often) to see them smile, to watch them seek for me, to know their labors to save me. That is what hurt. Everything else, everything I knew and understood, was simple confirmation of the programming.
The physical level of brokenness has been somewhat obvious, but it also has been hidden. From years of injury, my body died. No longer could I feel anything – no pain, no sensation. I often burned myself in the shower, simply because I could not feel the heat and did not know any better. In my mind, I became somewhat of a puppet – I knew my legs existed, but it was as if some other entity moved them for me. I could not do it myself; they were detached.
And how do you love and serve a God who you cannot understand, who has never been real to you, and who has yet to prove Himself? How do you listen when you don’t know His voice? How do you follow when you can’t see His path? This was the blindness I lived in, a blindness I now recognize as being caused by abusers, by a fragile young mind, body, and soul in the hands of Evil.
Some know my story; others do not. Dad said he always wanted a little girl, someone to love and to cherish, someone special. But he did not know how to love a little girl; he only knew how to love the big ones. And so I found myself often sexually at his hands, violated in ways I cannot begin to describe for you. He was sadistic, at best, and very violent. And oh, what a temper both of my parents had! I could earn a beating just by breathing wrong. Late one night, dad even stripped the skin off my legs with his bare hands, and all mom could say was “You know better than to piss him off.” I did all of the cooking, the cleaning, the washing, the care. If one speck of anything lay on the floor of my brother’s closet, that earned me reprimand, usually violent. There was no such thing as “going out to play” or “leaving the house.” No, they hovered over me like hawks. Dad even went to school with me everyday for awhile, in the fifth grade, when I got old enough to speak and he became afraid that I would. The phones were tapped, all calls recorded. My bedroom door locked from the outside, so I could be locked in but could keep no one out. And I have a photo still today as proof of the cameras that guarded me. This is only a glimpse.
Yet for so many years, I could not see my brokenness. I turned it all off, and I died. Never thought I could live again. Never thought I wanted to.
Today, my heart beats. It is alive! God has come into this sacred place of pain and has transformed it. Am I all the things little girls dream of? Nope. I never could have dreamed of this. I am finding passion simply in living, and it’s drawing me out to do more with myself.
I am searching for ways to give of myself, ways to reach out and help. And yet, I am also reaching in. There is the most beautiful, lovely young woman inside this shell that is going to do wonderful things in this world, more wonderful than even she knows. I’ve come to love the gifts that God has given me, and the ones He has cultivated through my experiences.
The best way to say it is this: my heart is melting. My core is becoming flexible as I step further into the love of God, into the roles He’s planned for me. I love to love. I seek out now to have relationships; honest, two-way relationships instead of the shallow “pay attention to me” attitude I once held. I love to live. I’m getting out of the house instead of shielding myself off. I am holding those I love close…then closer. And I am understanding the depth of the pain.
I still must grieve. There is so much here that is lost, so much that could have been but isn’t. But I am happy. Happier than I ever thought I would be. And I cannot get so lost in grief that I forget to celebrate what God is doing.
I guess you could sum it all up in just one word: I finally, after 24 years, finally feel FREE.
It is an unrest in the Spirit that drives us to grow, to learn, and to love. It is the unrest, the discontent with our situation, that sets us FREE.
Spirit? What is that? Is it that place of pain, that horrible memory that so long ago died? I believe it must be, for I know not what you speak of.
And yet, I am getting a glimpse.
Something strange has been happening to me lately, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t God and I didn’t love it.
for years, I’ve been bound by brokenness. Brokenness on all levels of my being – emotional, spiritual, physical.
At the emotional level, severe abuse chipped away my core for so many years (and in some ways, still tries to do so) that I could look in the mirror and no longer see anything – no girl, no woman, no face. I didn’t even know myself, more than to know I was unloved, unwanted, a monster. It didn’t really hurt so bad, not back then. What really hurt was love, and there were many who loved me well. From teachers to ministers to everyone in between, it pained my heart (physically, most often) to see them smile, to watch them seek for me, to know their labors to save me. That is what hurt. Everything else, everything I knew and understood, was simple confirmation of the programming.
The physical level of brokenness has been somewhat obvious, but it also has been hidden. From years of injury, my body died. No longer could I feel anything – no pain, no sensation. I often burned myself in the shower, simply because I could not feel the heat and did not know any better. In my mind, I became somewhat of a puppet – I knew my legs existed, but it was as if some other entity moved them for me. I could not do it myself; they were detached.
And how do you love and serve a God who you cannot understand, who has never been real to you, and who has yet to prove Himself? How do you listen when you don’t know His voice? How do you follow when you can’t see His path? This was the blindness I lived in, a blindness I now recognize as being caused by abusers, by a fragile young mind, body, and soul in the hands of Evil.
Some know my story; others do not. Dad said he always wanted a little girl, someone to love and to cherish, someone special. But he did not know how to love a little girl; he only knew how to love the big ones. And so I found myself often sexually at his hands, violated in ways I cannot begin to describe for you. He was sadistic, at best, and very violent. And oh, what a temper both of my parents had! I could earn a beating just by breathing wrong. Late one night, dad even stripped the skin off my legs with his bare hands, and all mom could say was “You know better than to piss him off.” I did all of the cooking, the cleaning, the washing, the care. If one speck of anything lay on the floor of my brother’s closet, that earned me reprimand, usually violent. There was no such thing as “going out to play” or “leaving the house.” No, they hovered over me like hawks. Dad even went to school with me everyday for awhile, in the fifth grade, when I got old enough to speak and he became afraid that I would. The phones were tapped, all calls recorded. My bedroom door locked from the outside, so I could be locked in but could keep no one out. And I have a photo still today as proof of the cameras that guarded me. This is only a glimpse.
Yet for so many years, I could not see my brokenness. I turned it all off, and I died. Never thought I could live again. Never thought I wanted to.
Today, my heart beats. It is alive! God has come into this sacred place of pain and has transformed it. Am I all the things little girls dream of? Nope. I never could have dreamed of this. I am finding passion simply in living, and it’s drawing me out to do more with myself.
I am searching for ways to give of myself, ways to reach out and help. And yet, I am also reaching in. There is the most beautiful, lovely young woman inside this shell that is going to do wonderful things in this world, more wonderful than even she knows. I’ve come to love the gifts that God has given me, and the ones He has cultivated through my experiences.
The best way to say it is this: my heart is melting. My core is becoming flexible as I step further into the love of God, into the roles He’s planned for me. I love to love. I seek out now to have relationships; honest, two-way relationships instead of the shallow “pay attention to me” attitude I once held. I love to live. I’m getting out of the house instead of shielding myself off. I am holding those I love close…then closer. And I am understanding the depth of the pain.
I still must grieve. There is so much here that is lost, so much that could have been but isn’t. But I am happy. Happier than I ever thought I would be. And I cannot get so lost in grief that I forget to celebrate what God is doing.
I guess you could sum it all up in just one word: I finally, after 24 years, finally feel FREE.
It is an unrest in the Spirit that drives us to grow, to learn, and to love. It is the unrest, the discontent with our situation, that sets us FREE.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)