The costume dilemma...

This past weekend I got into a conversation with my mother about how much she hates Halloween.  This was obviously no surprise to me as we seem to have this conversation every year around this time, not to mention she never allowed us to dress up or go trick-or-treating as kids.  She believes that Halloween is evil and that by dressing-up or carving pumpkins we are worshiping the devil.  As I pondered on my mother's hatred toward this day, I started wondering what it would have been like to get to pick out a costume, get all dressed up and go trick-or-treating as a little girl.  It was then that I realized that actually I did get to wear a costume as a little girl...the problem was that I was never allowed to take it off.

You see, in a family like mine costumes were a part of every day life.  We were taught to never leave home without our costume complete for everyone to look at in amazement.  To the world we pretended that we had it all together, that we were a "happy" family and everything was perfect.  All dressed up during the day I appeared upbeat and light-hearted, but on the nights when the lights grew dim and my father came to visit his little girl, fear and confusion became my allies.  On the inside I was broken and hurting, but I knew that as long as I put on my costume nobody would be able to tell...nobody except me. 

   

By God's grace alone was I able to take off my costume.  It came off one small piece at a time.  It had become such a part of me that it was difficult to actually let it go.  Underneath was the immense pain, the shame, the guilt, the anger, the confusion...all the things I did not want exposed.  As hard as it was, it was through uncovering my brokenness that I was healed.  With the secret of sexual abuse revealed, the body suit I had long been wearing suddenly fell off.  Through the countless hours of counseling, off came the gloves one by one.  After weeks of opening up to a support group, I was able to shed the boots that bound my feet.  Through the support and prayers of those God divinely put in my life, the wig was detached from my head.  As I made a conscious decision to surrender my pain and brokenness to the only one who can heal, the mask I had worn for so long came crashing to the ground.  For the first time in my life I was able to see the person God created me to be, and what I saw was beautiful.

It is ironic to me that as much as my mom hates Halloween and objects to dressing up and wearing costumes, that is exactly what she has done and has taught me to do all my life.  My mother believes we are dishonoring God when we put on a costume for Halloween, but I believe we are far more dishonoring to God when we refuse to take off our costumes and continue to live a make-believe and counterfeit life.  God is honored when our brokenness is healed, not when it is concealed.

While millions of kids are running home from school today racing to put on their costumes, I challenge you to finally take yours off...for what is hidden beneath is beautiful.

Forever changed...

Tuesday, September 11, 2001 is a day that forever changed the lives of the American people.  It was a day of tragedy.  A day of shock.  A day of heartache.  A day of courage.  Like many of you, I sat with tears in my eyes watching recaps of the catastrophic events that took place only 10 short years ago.  I listened to countless stories of both grief and heroism...fear and courage.  There was one particular man who captured my attention as he told of his story of survival.  He spoke of his initial realization of the magnitude of what had just happened and his determination to get out of the tower alive.  He told of the obstacles he faced and the endless heroic acts of others he witnessed as he made his way out of the north tower that day.  As he finally reached the ground level and safety was in his sight, the south tower suddenly began to crumble.  He recalls laying on the ground unable to see anything through the smoke and debris.  Crippled by fear, he made a decision to let go...to just lay there and die.  He realized that in the slim chance that he did actually make it to safety, his life would never be the same.  In that moment, surrounded by complete darkness, he lost his will to live.

 

I was captivated as I listened to this gentlemen relive his nightmare on the television screen in front of me.  Though my mind cannot conceive the unimaginable pain and fear this man experienced on the morning of 9/11, I could relate to so many of the feelings and emotions he described.  Like the man above, I started out determined...determined to unlock the vault within me where the deep, dirty secrets lived...determined to move on with my life and leave the past behind...determined to survive.  That determination was short lived as I realized the magnitude of the challenge I faced.  Soon after I found the courage to disclose the truth to my family, I started to understand that my life would never be the same.  In that moment, surrounded by complete darkness, I lost my will to live. 

A couple of months ago I was watching a repeat episode of Oprah.  This particular episode involved an interview with 4 pedophiles.  Oprah asked the men what effect they thought they had on their victims.  One of the men made this statement, "I killed the person she could have been."  I could not hold back the tears as the truth of these words sunk in.  So often in my recovery process I wondered what I would be like if this had not have happened to me.  I didn't know how to get beyond the sexual abuse or who I was apart from it.  I had lost my childhood...my family...my security...my identity.  I remember laying in my bed just weeping and praying God would take me home to Him.  I was so badly broken and I truly thought my life was ruined.  Like the man retelling his story from 9/11, I was ready to let go...to just lay down and die. 

Toward the end of the interview, I listened intently as the man talked about what kept him from giving in to imminent death.  In the pitch black that surrounded him, the faces of his wife and children were crystal clear.  Battered, bruised, and barely able to breath, this courageous man put one foot in front of the other until he made his way to safety.  By the grace of God he survived the most horrific attack on this nation we have ever seen.  There is no doubt that the events of that day had a tremendous impact on his life from that day forward, and indeed my life is not the same as it was before the day my father designated me as the object of his sexual pleasures.  As I was surrounded by the evil and darkness that accompanies sexual abuse, the nail scared hands of a healing God were crystal clear.  Battered, bruised, and overwhelmed with sadness, God gave me the courage to put one foot in front of the other until I was able to make my way into the safety of His loving embrace.

You see, the things my father did to me may have killed the person I could have been...but they didn't kill the person God created me to be.  In fact, what satan thought would for sure destroy me, God is using to instead restore me.   As I have walked through this journey of healing, I have experienced God's unconditional love...His immeasurable grace...His unfathomable forgiveness...and His infinite mercy.  I'm not sure what my life would look like or who I would be today had I not been sexually abused as a child, but what I do know is that through this pain and suffering I have come to know my God in a much deeper and personal way.  No life I could have had compares to truly knowing the Almighty God.  His plans for us far surpass what we could ever think or imagine.  He has a purpose for your life...one that even sexual abuse cannot ruin.  

Father's Day...

A little over 100 years ago in a town nicknamed "The Friendly City," a lady by the name of Mrs. Grace Golden Clayton organized a celebration that several decades later was written into law as a permanent national holiday.  In this country, every third Sunday in June is set aside to recognize our fathers, showing appreciation for all that they have done and all they mean to us.  Though created to be a joyous and sentimental occasion, many of us are filled with sadness and heartbreak instead.  For some, today marks the first Father's Day they will spend without their Father.  Unable to see him or pick up the phone and hear his voice on the other end only intensifies the grief of their tremendous loss.  For others, today is yet another painful reminder of the abandonment they suffered, leaving them wondering what it would have been like to even have a father at all.  There are others of us who have a father we can physically pick up the phone and call, but have nothing to say to the voice that answers on the other end.  For those of us who have been deeply wounded by our dads, the very sound of his voice represents pain. 

I remember standing in a Hallmark store with my mom one year when I was young and still living in a world full of secrets.  I stood staring at Father's Day cards trying to pick one out for my dad, an experience that proved quite difficult for me.  I read dozens of cards filled with beautiful sentiments, proclaiming a father as a hero, mentor and protector.  I searched for a card that simply said, "Happy Father's Day," but all I could find were cards describing a dad as someone who would always be there with love and support, thanking him for shaping the person I had become today.  Ironically, there were no cards thanking fathers for giving into their perverted desires and ripping out the childlike innocence night after night.  I couldn't find even one single card expressing appreciation for the fear that accompanies a drunken rage or the sting felt with vulgar and hateful words.  My dad had definitely helped shape the person I had become, but I couldn't find the right card that said thank you dad for abusing me...thank you dad for the immense guilt and shame...thank you dad for the abandonment...thank you dad for the overwhelming pain.

When God designed families, He entrusted fathers with a very critical responsibility.  There is no doubt about the fact that children need their fathers.   Every little boy should dream of being like his daddy one day, and every little girl should know the delight that comes with being daddy's little princess.  Children should feel safe and secure wrapped in the arms of their father.  Fathers are meant to instill wisdom and courage in their children, helping them develop into confident young adults with integrity and character.  The basic message....the influence of a father is extraordinary.  When I see a wonderful dad in action or hear of stories from others about how loving their fathers are, my heart is filled with joy.  Oh to know that your father loves you unconditionally and would take a bullet for you without hesitation. 

Thankfully, there are so many remarkable fathers out there who deserve every word written in the Hallmark cards I have read over the years.  However, the sad reality is we live in a country that has become known for being a world leader in fatherless families, a statistic many of us can identify with all to well.  I was overwhelmed as I read through all of the various statistics associated with children who grow up without a loving father, it is quite discouraging.  I, too, feel the void of not having a loving earthly father.  I have a dad, but his unwillingness to live beyond his world of sin and evil desires prevents us from having a relationship.  I once got into a conversation with a friend who never knew her parents.  She questioned if it was worse to grow up without ever knowing a parent, or to grow up with a parent who mistreats you.  The answer...they both stink...and both are outside the realm of God's intended plan. 

Whether you have grown up with an abusive father or an absent father, please know you are not doomed to a life of sadness and sorrow, nor are you destined to be part of the hundreds of statistics.  The void from not having a loving earthly father might be extensive and painful, but it can be filled and ultimately healed.  You and I may not have an earthly father who would take a bullet for us, but we have a father in Heaven who has already taken the nails for us.  He is a Father to the fatherless and takes us in when we are forsaken by our earthly fathers.   When we place our trust in Jesus Christ, He adopts us as His own and considers us as prized treasures.  His love for us is absolutely perfect and in His loving arms we are safe and secure.   On this Father's Day, we too can celebrate.  Happy Father's Day to the Almighty God and Creator of all things...my Heavenly Father who I am blessed to call daddy.

Forgiving when it hurts...

On the same day that I found the courage to tell my mother about the perverse evil I endured by my father, she almost immediately began delivering sermons to me about forgiveness.   If I cried or exhibited any outward signs of sadness, she warned me against dwelling and self-pity and urged me to forgive.  She contributed any expression of hurt or anger on my part to a bitter and unforgiving heart, advising me instead to simply forgive and forget.   She repeatedly informed me that as a Christian it was my spiritual duty to forgive.  Call me crazy, but I don't believe that God expected me to close my eyes, snap my fingers, and determine to never again think about or acknowledge the wicked acts my father carried out against me as a child.  I only wish it were that easy. 

 

Forgiveness is a process, not a one time instantaneous act.  Take it from me, you are not doing yourself any favors if you try to forgive before you are ready.  There is not a schedule or timeline you have to follow, nor is God putting an x mark on his calender for every day that goes by that you don't forgive.  As much as I wish it could be avoided, before you truly are capable of forgiving, you have to go through the pain and heartache of processing the sin that was committed against you.  As my wonderful counselor once told me, the measure to which you forgive is directly related to the measure in which you acknowledge the abuse for the evil that it was.  In other words, until you experience and admit to the full weight of the sadness, grief, betrayal, anger, resentment, or anything else you are feeling, only then can you fully forgive.  Don't let anyone condemn you for not forgiving fast enough or try to spiritually manipulate you into rushing into forgiveness as a "duty" rather than a heartfelt decision.    

 

Just the other day I was talking to my mother and we got into a conversation about my father and I's relationship...or rather the lack there of.  My mother to this day blames our not having a relationship on me being angry and unforgiving.  What my mother doesn't understand is that my forgiveness actually has nothing to do with my father.  Of course I wish with all my heart that my father would take responsibility for his actions and say to me he is sorry, but my forgiveness is not based on him being sorry.  Of course there are times when I still grieve the loss of an earthly father, but much to my mother's dismay, forgiveness is not synonymous with reconciliation.  I can forgive my father with or without having a relationship with him. He refuses to acknowledge the truth and I refuse to ignore sin, defeating any chance of reconciliation...but that doesn't mean I'm exempt from having to forgive.

Forgiving my father for the sexual crimes, harsh words, and disgusting acts I was forced to endure at his hands is for me.  Forgiving my mother for not protecting me from known danger as a child and the present condemnation and judgement is for me.  The act of forgiveness is for me, not them.  Unforgiveness does not hurt the ones who are responsible for my pain, it only further damages me.  Forgiveness does not mean that the sexual abuse was any less of a crime or caused me any less pain, and it definitley does not mean that what my father did to me was excusable.  It is through forgiveness that we are able to let go of the heavy weight of the offense we have been carrying along with us for so long.  When we forgive, the abuse loses its power over us.  For my own healing and recovery, I choose to forgive.  In fact, with each new day I have to choose again and again to make a conscious decision to forgive those who have wronged me.  With every memory, every nightmare, every condemning word...I have to make a choice. 

For those of you who feel your abusers do not deserve to be forgiven, you are right, they don't....but neither do I.  I'm so thankful that when God sacrificed His beloved son, I was completely absolved from the judgement I truly deserve.  Christ's blood covers my sins...and it covers my father's sins too.  As heinous as sexual abuse is in the eyes of the Lord, it is not beyond God's ability to forgive.  God's grace and forgiveness is unfathomable, and His love for His children is unmatched.  He will help you to also forgive your abusers.  You may not be ready to forgive at this moment and that is okay.  My prayer is that as you experience God's forgiveness in your own life and understand it's true meaning, you will desire to forgive your abusers just as you have been forgiven.  It will change your life.

I want to end with the words from a sexual abuse survivor named Nicole Bromley.  She is about my age and has a story that is not much unlike my own.  When I read these words she wrote about the ultimate comfort she received from God, and the forgiveness bestowed to her stepfather who molested her, I cannot hold back the tears.  Speaking of a vision God gave her she writes, "I saw the Lord and my stepdad standing next to each other.  The Lord was on the right; my stepdad was on the left.  Vince (stepdad) wouldn't look at the Lord, but the Lord was looking directly at him.  I could sense that He was very angry about what my stepfather had done to me.  Then I saw the Lord turn around.  Now His back was to my stepdad, and He was facing me.  Vince was behind the Lord and couldn't see me, and I felt safe because the Lord was directly between us.  As the Lord and I looked at each other, I saw Him begin to cry.  Soon He was sobbing because of how His precious, innocent child had been abused.  He was hurting because I was hurting.  He fell to His knees.  I ran into His arms, and He held me as we cried together.  And then I saw that behind us my stepdad was also kneeling.  He was repenting, tugging on the hem of the Lord's robe, crying out for mercy and forgiveness for everything he had done.  Then I saw the Lord forgive my stepfather.  And just as quickly as He forgave, He turned back to comfort me." What a beautiful description of a loving and forgiving God.

Judgment for pain...

This past week has provided me the opportunity to look back and celebrate how far I have come on this healing journey, but it also opened up my eyes just a little bit wider to the reality that my biological family is severely broken.  I spent a lot of time with my mother and sister this weekend and by the time I made it back home where I was emotionally safe, I was completely drained.  Spending eight hours zipped up in my self protective suit constantly guarding my heart from any sneaky attacks left me exhausted and quite honestly, a bit sad...sad that I have to protect myself from those who I should be able to consider safe...sad that I have to be on such high alert with them that I dread our time together rather than find it enjoyable...sad that our relationship can go no further than surface level without the risk of additional pain...sad that the heart wrenching truth is my family does not even know me.  Perhaps what breaks my heart most is that my family not only resents me for disclosing the truth and exposing my pain, they also judge me for it.

Recently my dear friend who has become like a mother to me (my "Mamsy" as I call her) and I started working through Beth Moore's Bible study on Esther.  As we were going through one of the daily lessons we came to a paragraph filled with words that struck a tender cord in the depths of my soul.  I was quite certain that Beth had followed me on my day long journey with my mother and sister and perhaps caught a small glimpse of why my heart was hurting during our time together.   I want to quote for you the words that were written on the page that so resonated in my heart.  Beth writes,  "We've each been hurt by someone, but no one on earth has hurt us more than those who seem callous to it.  We're acquainted with trying to deal with the wrongdoing of others while they go on with life, oblivious to our pain....The situation becomes even more complicated when you sense that the very person who helped your life to fall apart wonders why you can't get it together.  There's nothing quite like someone who hurt you judging you for being hurt."

These words describe my family, particularly my parents, almost perfectly.  Days after I confronted my father about the sexual abuse, I overheard him say to my mother, "is she still causing a problem," as if in a mere 72 hours I should have been able to get over the past 26 years of the pain I endured.  I can so easily torment myself by replaying some of the words my mother has spoken to me through this journey, things like, "you need to forgive and forget," "don't dwell on the past," "it could have been worse," "you just need to be an overcomer," or the one statement that brings on a bout of nausea every time, "at least the oral sex wasn't as bad as the intercourse."  I can so vividly remember the day I poured out my heart to my mother and let the pain and suffering spew out of me like an exploding soda can.  After I processed through the shock that my mother was very much aware of my father's sickness, I watched as she locked eyes with the magnitude of my pain and then quietly turned and crawled into bed with the man she allowed to molest her little girl.

In the midst of the darkest part of my journey when the nightmares and flashbacks took control, I couldn't help but think the next day...I wonder if my father slept peacefully last night as I relived the horrific pain of him raping me.  When I was soaking my hair and pillow in a pool of endless tears contemplating ending the constant torture, I wonder if my mother was having dinner with friends laughing and flaunting her material wealth.  The only thing worse than them ignoring my pain was the constant condemnation for even feeling it.  I don't want to sugar coat or minimize the sting that is felt when you are criticized by others for your pain, it leaves a deep and throbbing wound that takes a long time to heal....but it is not beyond repair.  This weekend with my mother and sister was proof that although my biological family is unwilling to join me in the recovery process and the presence of their judgment looms in the air around me like a thick haze,  I do not need their approval to get better. 

My dear friends, don't let anyone make you feel guilty for hurting.  The reason I was hurting is because I was deeply hurt... and the very people who judge me for it are the ones who caused it.  You might not can stop them from judging your pain, but I hope you can come to the place where you recognize their judgment as a sign of their sickness, not yours.  Most people who judge you for hurting do so because they cannot handle the truth and the pain that will come by acknowledging the ramifications of their actions is too great.  Instead, they make you feel guilty for hurting.  It's a viscous cycle and one that you don't deserve.  What you do deserve is someone to love you through your pain...someone to walk alongside you and offer you a healing touch...someone you can trust to share with you in your suffering one memory at a time.  Jesus sees your hurt and acknowledges your pain.  He will NEVER judge you for hurting.  Let Jesus be your family.  Share with Him your hurt and feel the love and healing that comes from His nail scarred hands.

Learning the hard way...

If you look in the dictionary for the word trust, you will find several wonderful descriptions of the meaning behind this word.  One of the most beautiful definitions of trust that was used in my support group is "to place hope in someone or something; to expect confidently."  I had achieved expecting confidently alright...but what I was expecting was to be abandoned or turned on at any moment.  I didn't know how to place hope in someone, that core ability was shattered when my father decided to trade me in for an incestuous toy rather than the daughter God had entrusted him with.  In order to endure the perversity and betrayal that taught me that trust was an open door to violation...I simply learned to hide inside my own skin.

My chosen method of self protection grew me into a miserable and broken adult.  Constant fear had become my closest companion.  I had never truly taken off my mask in front of others because I was too afraid they would bolt as soon as they caught a glimpse of what was hiding beneath.  It is no doubt that God had a plan when he placed two of the most amazing women I know in my path.  They are the same two individuals I first shared my heart with and the two of them became my first test of learning to trust again...a test I unfortunately failed. 

The more I opened up and the more I shared of my past with my two friends, the more suspicious I became that they too would soon abandon me.  They said that they loved me and cared about me, but my mother said the same thing as she knowingly delivered me straight into the hands of a pedophile.   They showered me with praise and said they were there to help me, but my father also said nice things to me during our 'special' time together.  I was scared and confused...I didn't know how to trust even the most trustworthy of people.

Unlike my abusers, my treasured friends had proven themselves to be safe people.  More than simple words, their actions daily implied their unconditional love for me.  They constantly poured out love, support, and encouragement to me...but still I feared their rejection.  Overwhelmed by the pain being inflicted upon me by my family at the time, I lied to my cherished friends.  I didn't know how to put into words the suffering I was experiencing and the things I was being told by my family, specifically my father.  As the fear intensified and took control, I found myself lying to the very two people I most feared losing.  Why?  Because truthfully I didn't trust them not to jump ship and abandon me.  I didn't trust that they would understand how much pain I felt.  I didn't trust them enough to sit down and just share with them what was happening.  Instead, I tried to control my circumstances...another task I ultimately failed.

Let me be the first to tell you that there are always consequences that follow our actions.  As I confessed my deception to my friends I was left devastated, humiliated, and completely ashamed by my sin.  What is worse is that my unwise choices hurt the very people who loved me the most.  In the fear of losing them, I made a choice that gave them a reason to run....yet they didn't.  Instead, they offered me grace and forgiveness.  They loved me through my sin and through my repentance.  There is no doubt that I made a mistake and that my lack of trust led to a very painful fall.  The amazing part of the story is that as I lifted up my head from the depths of my shame and stood to my feet covered in bruises from my near fatal tumble, there stood my two loving friends....arms open wide awaiting to bandage my wounds.  They had not abandoned me or betrayed me as I expected.  Instead, they embraced me. 

Though I'm not proud of what I have shared with you today and I desperately wish I could take back my sin, it was through this momentary lapse of judgment that I learned a very valuable lesson.  It is possible to trust others.  My imperfection also taught me that I could trust the one who is absolutely perfect.  He will never turn His back on me or abandon me.  Regaining the God-given ability to trust is possible, but only when we cling to the one who is completely trustworthy.  He is safe, loving, kind, and comforting.  He offers grace and forgiveness that is unmatched.  You can place your hope in Him and confidently expect Him to love and care for you.  His arms are open wide...patiently awaiting our embrace.  Run to Him dear friends.  Run as fast as you can.

Shark-free Sunday...

During a Bible study I was in last year my group got into a discussion about the importance of solid friendships and basically just sharing life with one another.  We were talking about making sure you choose wisely who you confide in when one of the girls in the class made the statement, "never bleed in front of sharks."  I can remember nothing else about what was said during group that day because I was completely fixated on that statement.  Never bleed in front of sharks....what a profound message in regards to sexual abuse.  Having a support system in place as you process through and heal from the deep wounds created by sexual abuse is vital to recovery.  Talking about the horrible things that happened to you and sharing the painful memories with safe people produces hope, strength, encouragement and the list goes on.  But let me warn you as you enlist the support of others...you must beware of sharks.

Sharks come in all shapes, colors, and sizes.  Sometimes you can spot a shark from a mile away and other times they sneak up on you when you least expect it.  Some sharks are satisfied with just a little nibble while others have an insatiable desire to destroy their prey.  Sharks tell you things like, "why can't you just forget it, it was a long time ago," "you should have told somebody when it happened," "what did you do to make this happen," "if you tell it will destroy our family."  Sharks encourage you to keep the secret and reprimand you when you seek out help.  Sharks are masters of manipulation and use every tool available to keep you from bringing the truth to light.  An encounter with a shark when you are not prepared is a guarantee for emotional exhaustion and often leaves you deeply wounded.  No matter what the shark looks like or what method they use for attack, they all have one thing in common...they are out for blood.

Let me tell you from my own personal experience, nothing hurts worse than the sharp teeth of a ferocious shark...the piercing pain of their bite is almost unbearable. What's worse is that my sharks were disguised as the people I should have been able to trust the most, my family. Every time I tried to go to my biological family for support, I walked away with more guilt, more shame, and ultimately an even more wounded heart.  I so desperately wanted them to love me and help me that I continually set myself up to get hurt over and over again.  Each time I held on to what little hope I had left that this time would be different....this time they would encourage me....this time they wouldn't hurt me.  Each time they proved me wrong.  In the words of Maya Angelou, "when someone shows you who they are, believe them."  My family had shown me who they were time and time again, but it wasn't until I finally believed them that I was able to come to the harsh reality that they were, indeed, my sharks.  

Over time I learned that if I wanted to avoid the pain of a brutal attack, I could not allow myself to emotionally "bleed" in front of my sharks.  On Sundays after church I attended a sexual abuse support group with an amazing group of women who I grew to love dearly.  Though this group played a major role in my healing and I would encourage any survivor to go through it, I left that group emotionally drained week after week.  I made a decision that on Sunday I would have no contact with my biological family in order to protect myself from being hurt...hence the term Shark Free Sunday.    On days when I went to counseling or just felt emotionally down, I made sure I stayed clear of any sharks.  Oh how I wish I would have learned this valuable lesson long before I did.  It would have saved me a lot of heartache.

Though I have many scars to represent the painful attacks I have experienced on this journey, they also represent survival.  A scar at one time was an open and painful wound, but when it scars over it is officially healed.  Every scar I have earned reminds me that though I have sharks waiting to attack at any moment, I also have a Healer and His name is Jesus.  He has proven His faithfulness to me day after day and He has never withheld His unconditional love for me.  He is there on my best days to share my joy and He is there on my worst days to give me comfort.  He has shown me who He is...and I believe Him.