From the moment we take our first breath here on earth we long for physical touch. There are countless research articles about the physical and emotional aspects associated with touch and child development. God created us with the need to be touched, and He placed the responsibility on our parents and/or caregivers to communicate love to us through physical touch.
Growing up in a family with a pedophile as a father, nobody taught me more about touch than he did. I remember one time being in his blue and white truck with him at his deer lease when he stopped the truck and pulled me close to him. As his hand drifted beneath my clothing and between my legs, the tears began to flow. My tears angered him and he grabbed my face and told me I better stop being a cry baby. As the pressure between my legs intensified, I could not hold back the tears and in a moment of rage he made me get out of the truck and drove away. In a matter of minutes I learned that touch was scary, confusing, and painful. I learned that tears were a sign of weakness and unacceptable. As time went on, I dreaded the times when my father came into my room or we found ourselves alone with each other. I feared the touch of his hands or other parts of his body. With each new touch, another piece of me was taken away. With each touch, the guilt and shame rooted themselves a little deeper.
Don't get me wrong, my mother hugged me plenty and I was never physically neglected, but the evil touching from my father far overshadowed any healthy touch I received as a child. I grew up to be an adult who did not understand the beauty of physical touch in the way God intended it....until one day. It is a day I don't believe I will ever forget. It was a day that appeared to be like any other ordinary day from the outside, but on the inside I was barely surviving. I had managed to get myself out of bed and to work, which at this point in my life was a pretty big accomplishment. While I was sitting at work, one of my co-workers came up behind me and gently put her hand on my shoulder and kissed me on top of my head. In that moment chills ran through me and my heart felt like it skipped a beat. Though it sounds like such a simple gesture, it was much more than that to me. With her gentle touch I felt love, affection and comfort. It was as if God himself had reached down and touched me in the depths of my despair.
This same co-worker grew to be the dear friend I always speak of who has truly become a mother to me. She has held me close on my worst days as the tears seemed to flow endlessly. I have left plenty of mascara stains on her shoulders, but this time my tears were accepted. Unlike my father's touch, her touch said I was loved and that I was going to be okay. Her touch brought with it hope and encouragement. Her touch also produced tears....but this time they were tears of healing.
If you have never experienced the healing that comes with a loving touch my heart is broken for you. I want you to know that you deserve to be loved on and tenderly held in the arms of someone who loves you. I know the touch that brings pain and deep sorrow and tells you that you are unlovable, but I also know the touch that brings healing. Please know that the God of this Universe loves you and longs to hold you in His loving arms. In His arms you are safe and free to cry and leave all the mascara stains you need to. God sees your pain and knows the meaning behind each tear. The Bible says he counts every tear and collects them in a jar. Over the last year I have easily filled a whole shelf full of jars with my name on them, but don't hold back....He has room for your tears too.
No comments:
Post a Comment