Brace Yourself

For all that is secret will eventually be brought into the open, and everything that is concealed will be brought to light and made known to all.

-Luke 8:17

"Lord, if you want me to go speak to a therapist, would you please somehow confirm that to me?"

I had been driving on the highway. Thinking thoughts that no one in their "right mind" should think.

Out in the middle of nowhere, on a road no one knew I was travelling - out away from my friends and my family. Who is my family? My family is made up mostly of people who I've come to love as my own- although there is no blood or marriage that says they have to love me back.

I wonder, if my car careened off the highway into a ditch and they found me unconscious... or worse... who would they call?

An address on my registration to a place I used to live. A place my grandmother called home since 1954. A place that she lived for exactly 60 years before my uncle put her in a nursing home without her consent. A home that is now vacant. All our possessions stripped and tossed away. No phone call. A recurring theme in my 2014. Just an empty shell. With ripped out wallpaper and carpets. With no answers, no consent, no understanding.

No one in my phone with the label Mom or Dad - no one who would be frantically calling wondering where I was. Why I didn't come home.

No boyfriend or husband who is expecting a phone call to say I've arrived at my destination. No texts to say everything's okay and I'll talk to you later. Recalling that I sometimes send texts to friends and they never respond. Most days my phone doesn't ring. Just a quietness that I've had to call my own.

I realized that if something happened that there would be no one who would notice. If it happened on a Friday night, no one would raise an eyebrow until I didn't show up to work on Monday morning.

Really - is this what it has come to? Work? That's what I have. That I could potentially go 3 days unidentified.

Later that night, driving back home on that same long stretch of 495 and I get a series of text messages. I'll look when I get home, but, "Lord - about what I said earlier? Please confirm if that is Your will for me."

I get home and that's when I see the text. The one that doesn't say much but holds back the flood gates for something I never anticipated to come sweeping over me. "Please, God. Why do I feel like she's about to say something awful..."

So I ask the question that gives way to the answer I hoped would be different.

Suddenly everything I knew has changed. Feelings I've dealt with on my own and haven't shared. She had it so much worse and I never realized.

"This is too much," I think.

And then I know.

This is so much more than I can deal with. Suddenly feelings of failure sweep back over me. I tried so hard to protect her. To keep her safe. I fought for us. Day and night and I tried to make a difference. To save us from the Hell we were living in.

Yet, it wasn't enough. My heart breaks for her. For her heart. For the pain she's carried for so many years. Suddenly, it all makes sense. Everything. I see things in the way Jesus does. With nothing but a broken heart and love. But unlike Jesus, I have no idea how to handle this. I don't know how to navigate this new territory. It's not my story to tell but oh, how does it impact mine.

In one instant, I've been forever changed.

I praise Jesus that his sacrifice for us covers all our emotions. Guilt, shame, abandonment, hurt, pain. I know her pain so personally yet I can't share all the reasons why. I still have to protect her. 

And God protected me from that. I am humbled and broken over the thought. But, I wish I could somehow take away that away from her. Bear the weight of this affliction that this little girl has been carrying for 16 years.

She confesses she told one other person. My mother. My mothers response? "That happened to me, too."

How much more, God? How much more of my own story do I not know?

I'm sick to my stomach.

Family, they are supposed to protect you. Not hurt you.

My heart craves even more. Please, God. Let your will for me be a loving kind man as my husband. One who will break the chain of history that has loomed over the generations of women in my family. I wonder how much more do I not know. My grandmother has asked questions that at the time seemed so bizarre. What does it all mean? Did this happen to her too? What about my moms mother? How far back does this go?

I remember the day God spoke to me about how He's going to bless my family. When I cried over having the true kinship of love and protection.

Lately I keep thinking about the man who sternly told me at a wedding not to break my (now-ex) boyfriends heart. His words echo in my heart all the time. He may have thought he was funny, but this man who was also a pastor could have had no idea how much his words stung. No one once told my boyfriend at the time not to break my heart. No one stood at my side and said you better not hurt her. Isn't that the way it's supposed to be, though? I long for that. For a sense of worth and protection. For someone to stand up on my side.

Someone should have protected her. Someone should have protected my mother. Someone should have protected me. 

Will all the real men please stand up?

Where does it end?

I want to erase my last name. Forget ancestry-dot-com, I don't want to know anything about these men. I hope they rot in Hell for the rest of eternity. I'm sure they will. Because no one who knows Jesus could ever be so volatile. Then I remember God. I remember He chose me. He gave me my name. My name that means "beloved one" and it's so funny because I've never felt like I was anyone's beloved one. But I am God's. He chose my name and one day He will give me a new last name. Which will change the generations to come. It will break the curse of evil. That day will not be just a day of love but a day of victory as we stand over Satan and say, "Not this time."

Oh, Lord. I need that person who understands the way a heart breaks when you are so little and you don't understand. A person who has compassion and experience dealing with powers of darkness. Because I've been through a lot and I've held a lot in - swearing never to share what my eyes saw and what my ears heard when I was just a small child. I don't know what I was expecting when I asked for confirmation. Maybe a bible verse or a blog post that said, yes, go. Let it help heal you. I know I'm not prepared or experienced enough for this. Oh, I've got my own share of these same exact things- things I forbid myself to think on- places too dark to go alone. I realize, I need that person.

Lord, If I find the one to speak to...open the door. Let this be seamless amidst all the hard. In the way that says this is Your will. That you are okay with me seeking healing outside of solely depending on You. Also, please forgive me. I tried for 32 years to handle this on my own. I just don't know where else to turn and the road ahead is dark and scary. I am okay with pretending to be brave but for once I just want to be a kid. I want to redeem a sliver of the life that was taken from me. I want to find child-like-joy and child-like-faith and child-like-awe. I want to feel protected the way a child should feel safe in their own home. Is it possible to feel that safety as an adult knowing what I know? Knowing the world is broken and cruel and messed up? I pray, let it be so.

XO,
S