OUR MINDS, SATAN'S TARGET. PART TW0, continued

I'm  going  to attempt to finish this today. If you are reading this and are a praying Child of God, I ask that you pray for strength for me. Parkinson's has weakened my body until I tire  easily.

No one should ever live with the shame of someone else's sin, but the victim of sexual abuse almost always carries a shame that belongs to the person who abused them. Sometimes we live with shame without recognizing  it. But, it is important to understand shame (also referred to as s elf-contempt) because it is one of Satan's most powerful weapons to sabotage the life God meant for  us  to live. We owe it to Him, to our self, and to those we love to recognize its source and its effects on us.

It's important to separate false shame for what others have done to us and the rightful shame for our own sins. Each of us has committed sins against our God for which we need to repent. It's too easy  to fall into a habit of  blaming our sins on what has happened to us. The other extreme is to accept blame that isn't ours. For a victim of sexual abuse, this can be confusing and hard to separate, and we may need an objective person to help in the process.
There are two ways contempt can be directed. I am not sure what makes some people  direct their shame inwardly toward themselves (as I did) while others direct their angry shame (contempt)  outwardly toward others. Which ever way we direct that shame, it is harmful to us and those we love.

I was so surprised when I recognized my behaviors as described in Dr. Dan Allender's four stages of self contempt below. Like I, you may recognize behaviors that you exhibit in more than one of these stages.

Least severe contempt (shame) is when we have a sense of unworthiness. Here are some issues a person struggles with in this stage:
          1. Being uncomfortable when someone compliments us.
          2. Uncomfortable when somone shows  interest in us as a  person.
          3. Feeling unworthy of attention.
          4. Mistrust of peoople who are kind to us.
          5. Surprised when someone genuinely appears to be happy to see us.
     
          (I exibited all of the above behaviors for years.)

Midly severe contempt (shame) involves comparing ourself to others and rebuking the loser.

        1. Rebuking ourself for making a  mistake.
        2. Beating up on ourself for sinning.
        3. Having a pattern of finding fault with others.
        4. Thinking of ourself as ugly, fat, stupid, dumb, inadequate, or unfeminine.
        5. Being critical of other people.
        6. Giving excuses for our actions when they are challenged.

        (In this category, the behaviors  I exibited most were #'s 1, 2, 4, & 6)

Moderately severe contempt  (shame) is often played out in fantasies. Issues may be:

         1. Being aroused by fantasies, descriptions, or depictions of women being abused or degraded.
         2. Daydreaming about taking revenge.
         3. Enjoying violence in books, movies, etc.  
         4. Abusing food (overeating, under  eating, or vomiting, etc.) but not enough to be life-threatening.
         5. Witholding relatiionships as an act of  revenge toward those with whom  I love.

(As far as  I know and understood my own actions, I don't believe I exhibited any of the above behaviors.)

Very severe contempt might drive a person to harm herself or another. Issues persons struggle with in this stage are:

       1. Thinking about suicide often.
       2. Thinking about killing someone often, or about that person dying.
       3. Thinking about hurting myself physically by cutting, scratching, burning, etc.
       4. Thinking about hurting someone else.

(I am very ashamed to have to say that I not only thought about suicide, but attempted it at age 32. The reason I am ashamed of it is because God has revealed to me  that my trying to take the life He gave me has hurt Him more than anything I've ever done or anything that has ever been done to me. It hurts to know I've hurt the heart of  my God.)

I pray that, if you have identified behaviors in one or more of these stages that have puzzled or shamed you for years, you will find a Christian person who can help you. I am blessed to have as my best friend a wonderful lady who, with her husband, has a counseling ministry in Madisonville called "Transformation Ministries". Martha and I were co-leaders of the sexual abuse recovery groups in our church for the past five years. Parkinson's makes me unable to continue that ministry. However, Martha will be continuing the groups with another co-leader. The two of them will be a great  team.

God is opening new doors for me to minister to hurting women from home. It has become a precious means for me  to tell who our God is and what He wants to do in each of our lives. My greatest desire is to be able to "tell it", as He asked, for as long as I have breath.

OUR MIND, SATAN'S TARGET, Part One

John 10:10 - "The thief (Satan) comes only to steal and kill  and destroy, but I have come that they may have life and have it to the full." NIV
1 John 3:8b -  "The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the devil's work." NIV


I wish I could find the source of what I'm about to write, but since I can't, and since it fits so perfectly into what is on my heart today, I'm going to paraphrase it from memory:
     "If I were Satan and wanted to make sure that I had a person for life, I would send a person with  a perverted mind to sexually abuse a child. Then, while that child was too young to know the difference, I would whisper into her heart that she was evil and should br ashamed all of her life. I would then have that person's mind as mine."

Now that I've paraphrased that, I wish even more that I could find the original source, for  it falls far short of the full meaning of  that original source. But, I think it makes the point.

Some of you may be thinking (especially if you are one  who has never experienced sexual abuse) why I keep writing on this subject. You may have felt that I'm a bit absorbed with the subject. The truth is, I  am --passionately. And the reason is that I know there are thousands of  people, both men and women, who are suffering in silence and shame as I did for years. I want to be a  voice that both validates their suffering  and offers them hope, true hope based on both experience and the promises of God. I want them to  know that there is  healing, complete healing in the name of  Jesus Christ.

Shame seems to be Satan's most powerful grip on the mind, heart, soul and body of a sexual abuse victim, years after the experience, and as I've quoted Dr. Allender before, "Time seems only to intensify this stronghold ." And, it is usually the hardest to overcome. Shame, also referred to as self-contempt, is "a cancer that seems to fester and affect everything in our lives, including our relationship with ourselves, others, and the God who loves us unconditionally....Our experience becomes something we can't talk about....We may have developed an all-consuming terror of being exposed for who we really are...We may fear that if others really see us for who we are--defective, shameful, unlovable--they will abandon us." (Julie Wooley, from her workbook, "In The Wildflowers")

I remember so vividly wondering why I was different from other people. My shame was intertwined with an equally powerful feeling of fear--nothing spicific, just a general unnamed fear. We were in revival one year with a well-known evangelist who opened the floor to questions the last night. Feeling this was a safe place to ask and maybe find an answer to the cause of that  fear, I asked, "What would make a person live with a general fear?" He looked at me as if I were a child and quoted from James, "Perfect love casts out fear." My shame level raised significantly and I wished I could just grow tiny enough to not be seen. I had exposed my heart and let others know there was something lacking in me. I determined not to make that  mistake again.
I don't mean to put that man down in any way for he was a powerful man of God. But, my experience and the affects it had left on me was not something he knew about in order to understand where I was coming from. There is a great need for churches to realize that they have a lot of people in their congregations who need help for healing from traumatic childhoods.I am so grateful our pastor understands that and is one of the strongest supporters of our sexual abuse recovery group.

But, back to my theme of shame. When we finnd a safe place or person and begin to speak out the horror of what happened to us, we have made the first step in overcoming the grip shame has on us. When we find others who understand and accept us just as we are, we have  the courage to continue our journey. That is the power of groups. We are surrounded by other hurting women who understand us on a level no one else can. And, as we listen to their lifes stories, we begin to see that we are actually acting and feeling normal--for someone who has been sexually abused. And when one person shares what God has done in the area of healing, hope rises in our own hearts. That's why it is so important to share our stories. We are fulfilling a scripture in Isaiah 43:12b: "You are my witness", declares the Lord, "that I am God."

I have not begun to write all that is on my heart, and this is full of mistakes that spell check can't take of. But, my hands are growing tired and I need to rest them. So, more later.

MY HEROINES AND HEROES

It takes a lot of God-given courage to speak about sexual abuse, especially to say "I'm one of the one in every three women (or one in six boys) who has been sexually abused."

I read something a few moments  ago about breast cancer survivors. The caption read "The real heroes are  those who speak about it."

How much more heroic are those who are willing to speak about their abuse in order to break the silence that keeps them and so many other victims in bondage?

If you are one of the persons whom God has healed, or is in the process of doing so, give Him the glory. Then pray for the wisdom and guidance that you can find a safe place to tell of what He's done for you. If you've never sought help, I pray you will find a safe person--doctor, pastor, trusted Christian friend, family member (unless you were abused by a family member and know they might not be willing to believe you), Christian counselor or therapist with whom to share your experience.

It's important to choose someone you think will believe you, for not being  believed is another form of abuse in itself. I chose to confide in our doctor who had known me for many years. It was a good choice, for after I told him, he looked at me and said, "Well, now I understand you". He then admitted the help I needed had not been a part of his training.  But he made an appointment with someone who was trained to help.

Sexual abuse is a worldwide problem that leaves deeply wounded children in its wake. These children grow up to live seemingly normal lives. But, in reality they are filled with deep emotions of fear, shame, silent rage, and deep soul pain.

Time is a great healer. But, it does not heal the damage  that has taken place in the soul of a  sexual abuse victim. The majority of women and men who have been abused live in denial--either that they are victims or  that it affected them in any way. 

But, God created our hearts to be true. For, that reason, He will continue to help us clean the basement of our soul by bringing what we stuff there to our conscious mind. And, no matter how many times we cram it back down, it will  eventually surface in a way we can no longer deny. And, you are never too old! Our last group was made up of women ranging in age from sixteen to seventy plus.

I once read a true story of a precious woman in her nineties who lay in the hospital on her deathbed. The nurse noticed that the usual calm with which she had accepted her death had been replaced with agitation. As she heard the nurse's footsteps, she opened her troubled eyes and  motioned to the nurse to bend down. The nurse understood that she wanted to say something, so she put her ear to the dying woman's  mouth. With a quivering voice, the old lady whispered, "I was sexually abused as a little girl." Those were her last words, but as the tears poured down her cheeks, the nurse whispered a prayer of thanks that the woman had found peace in the last moment of her life by telling the hateful secret with which she had lived for better than eighty years.

When I read this, I cried. I had never confided in anyone  at the time, and I knew the pain that lady carried for so many years. I'm grateful that I sought help when I was in  my late forties. And I can never praise him enough for the work he has done in my life. And I have been blessed every time I've had the opportunity to be obedient to "tell it". Praise the name, the holiness, the power and  the love of Our Heavenly Father. It is so everlasting and personal.



It is  vitally important to understand that  we are not to blame for the abuse that was done to us--whether we were three or a teen when it began. The blame for the abuse lies squarely with the abuser, and it doesn't matter if he was drunk, acting from his own perverted  childhood, or any other reason. He may be a damaged adult, but he made a choice and that choice was his alone. And only we can make the choice to seek His healing, restoration, and redemption. May He ever be glorified in my life and yours.

CELEBRATE THE STAGES OF YOUR JOURNEY

I learned a new word in preparation for the final meeting with this group of ladies in the "Understanding & Healing  Hidden Hurts" Sexual Abuse Recovery Ministry I have had the privilege of co-facilitating for the past five years. The word is denouement. I like Dr. Dan Allender's definition of the word:

        "A denouement is not a complete or fully resolved ending but a satisfying closure to a story. In French it means 'an untying, a relaxing of a knot of complexty'....Denouement is a respite that calls us to stop the journey for a brief interlude--to eat, drink, sing, dance, and tell our story to others." 

To me, this meant we should pause to meditate, share, and celebrate where we are now in our journey while realizing we have more to do before we are where God wants to take us on the path toward healing. So, we decided to make our last meeting one of celebration.

As getting around is becoming increasingly difficult for me, the women generously agreed to meet in our home. What a joy to look out the window and see them pulling in the driveway and piling out laughing and talking. After fourteen weeks of being together through tears and shared pain, a strong bond of love and trust had developed between all of us that always makes us  want to continue. But, we need times of denouement, and that was what I saw developing as they got out of the cars. They had carpooled the thirty miles to my home and had already started the celebration before  arriving.

The first thing we did was gather around our large dining-room table for a meal each of us had a part in providing and preparing.There is something about setting around a table, eating, relaxing, and talking that allows us to drop our guard and be willing to share more freely than anywhere else. We learned much more about one another in those moments than we probably had the previous thirteen weeks. Martha asked everyone to be thinking about where they thought they were on their journey.

Our meal made us so sleepy that a couple of us went to sleep before the DVD was finished. Yes, I was one of the two. Some hostess I turned out to be! But, I was so comfortable with these ladies with whom I'd walked as they were on this first part of their journey that I wasn't even embarrassed when I awoke and they laughed with me.

Each lady shared what she felt God had done for her during this first phase of their journey toward healing. As beautiful as it was to hear their words, their faces and actions told it all. Fourteen weeks ago, fourteen strangers, ages sixteen to seventy-three, had met in a room and wondered what was in store for them. As the weeks progressed we lost one member when  she moved to California, another started back to college, and our youngest member lost a way to get to the meetings. As is the case in every group, there were four members  who just weren't up to the challenge and dropped out. We appreciate so much  their effort and courage in  trying and believe they will seek help again someday. And because they walked with us for a few weeks, they became a part of our hearts.

On June 2, 2013 we met as scared and timid strangers. On September 8, 2013 we parted as sisters who knew each others pain of the past and shared a united hope for the future. I'm so glad we took the time to  celebrate one another.

The young woman who was training these past weeks to take my place is going to be a good facilitator. She and Martha will be a wonderful team together. One day I got to the meeting a little after the  two of them. They weren't expecting me as I'd had to miss the two previous meetings. I could hear them laughing together as they were getting things ready and a tinge of jealousy went through me. I shared that with the    two of them and saw t he understanding in their eyes. It has been hard for me to realize that I must step aside, because I've been so passionate about the ministry to hurting women.

For that reason, I don't think God is through with me in this work. He will open other avenues as He did this blog which has reached women in ten different countries. And as long as there is breath in my body, I want to continue to be obedient to His command to "tell it".

I would love to hear your comments or questions. You may e mail me at betty_barber@aol.com or leave a comment at the end of this post.

"LIVING" WITH THE CONSEQUENCES OF CHILDHOOD/ADOLESCENT SEXUAL ABUSE

When Martha and I began our "Understanding and Healing Hidden Hurts" Sexual Abuse Recovery Group for Women, we didn't have the money to have someone design and print pamphlets to let women know who we were, what the group was about, and some general information about the consequences women suffer as a result of having been a victim of sexual abuse. As Martha works full time in her counseling ministry and I am retired, I accepted that responsibility. Through the years of my own healing, I had read profusely and had several books on the topic of sexual abuse, so I had ready resources.

In my last post, I talked about what defines sexual abuse. That has been the most  widely read post on the blog, so I feel there may be some of you who questioned whether or not what happened to you would be called sexual abuse. I hope Dr. Allender's definition helped you to know one way or another.

In this post I am going to list the effects of living as a victim of sexual abuse. I am doing this for a couple of reasons:

• So those who are have been sexually abused can know the reason behind some of their actions that make them feel different. You aren't crazy or different. You are behaving as most victims of childhood sexual abuse behave. (Note the number of asterisks indicating which of these behaviors I exhibited for many years.)
• So that, if, like me, you find you  are "living" with these symptoms, you can know that you don't have to live this way. You will notice that I keep putting the word "living" in quotes. I feel I didn't really live all of those years, I existed; and I did that by living a lie that everything in my life was normal. I takes an awful lot of energy to pretend, and it doesn't honor God. If I were to go back over that list again there would be no asterisk, for by the grace of God, they are no longer a part of my life.

 These are not things that I have come up with but what I've gotten from the books I alluded to earlier. I was so shocked when I listed these in our pamphlet. I couldn't believe how many of these issues had been a part of my life in the long years before I sought healing. I have placed an asterisk in front of each of them. My hope is that if you find you, too, are suffering through many of these symptoms, that you will seek help--Christ-centered counseling or a good support group.

I promise you that there is healing in Jesus Christ if you are willing to  allow Him to walk with you on your journey. There is no quick fix! So, don't expect that. But, as I looked into the faces of the women in our group today, I was so proud of the progress they each have made. And, I realized once again the importance of sharing our stories with other women who  can understand our pain as no one else can. The ladies in our group still have more miles to walk on their healing journey and they know that. But, they have also glimpsed the hope held out by Jesus Christ and they are willing to finish what they started twelve weeks ago. They have no desire to go back to where they were before beginning their journey. How I love these courageous ladies!

  ------

Symptoms Suffered by Adults

As A Result of Childhood Sexual Abuse

• *  Damaged Goods - low self-esteem, depression, suicidal thoughts/attempts, guilt,   
•                                        shame, search for approval
• *  Betrayal - iinability to trust, blurred boundaries, role confusion, rage, grief
• *  Helplessness - aanxiety, fear, panic attacks, re-victimization tendency
• *  Isolation - sense of being different, lack of support, poor peer relations 
• *  Fear - of sleeping alone, night terrors, nightmares
• *  Poor body and self image
• *  Wearing excessive clothing
•    Self-abuse - skin carving, cutting
• *  Phobias - panic attacks, anxiety disorder, startle response
• *  Anger/rage - difficulty controlling anger and rage
• *  Shutdown under stress - unable  to cope with stress
• *  Lack of trust and intimacy
• *  Not able to say "No"
• *  Blocking of memories
• *  Feeling different - crazy, marked (I remember one day thinking to myself, "I wonder 
      why I'm different from other people?"
• *  Denial and flashbacks
• *  Sexual issues - extremes
•    Multiple personalities
• *  Signs of post traumatic stress disorder

We've all heard statements like, "Time is the great healer", or "Time heals all wounds," and "Just give it time and it will get better." But, there are wounds that go too deeply for time alone to heal. Sexual abuse is one of those wounds. In fact, as Dr. Dan Allender states, "Sexual abuse damages the soul. Time seems to intensify this hurt."

My heart aches for those of you who are still living with that pain. And I think the reason God  asked me to share what He has done in my life, is because His heart aches for you a  thousand  times more than mine ever could. And, He wants to let you know what He wants to do for you. May you walk with Him.

UNDERSTANDING WHAT SEXUAL ABUSE IS

Too many women (and men) live with the effects of sexual abuse for years but are unable to understand the reason. Maybe, because they view what happened to  them as nothing serious, they don't  consider it to have been sexual abuse. Also, we have the tendency to compare what happened to us with other women's stories and tend to minimise ours because their stories  are so much worse.

I remember sitting in the first sexual support group I attended and hearing stories of things that I had really never heard about, much less experienced. As I listened, I thought to myself, "What am I doing here? They are the ones who have been abused."  But, that was not right thinking. I learned that if it affected us, then it was  abuse, and I needed help just as much as anyone.

Dr. Dan Allender gives the most comprehensive definition of sexual abuse I've found in his book,  The Wounded Heart:

"Sexual abuse is any contact or interaction (visual, verbal, or psychological ) between a child/adolescent and an adult when the child/adolescent is being used for the sexual stimulation of the perpetrator or any other person. Sexual abuse can be committed by a person under 18 if the perpetrator is older or in a position of power over the victim. Abuse that happens within a family system is technically called incest. .. all inappropriate sexual contact is damaging and soul-distorting."

When I came across this definition, it brought back shameful memories. One memory was when I was somewhere between six and eight. I had run as fast as I could to get away, but two boys had caught me and taken turns holding me down while they had their way with me. Because we were all kids when it happened, I had not put it in the same category as the abuse that began at age thirteen. But, I realized that memory carried an awful lot of shame. Other memories were ones that I had accepted as normal at the time, but realized they were the reason I hated parts of my God-given body. I can't remember a time when I wasn't teased about my big bottom, and was told by a family member that if I was as small all over as I was from the waist up, there wouldn't be much to me; but if I was as big all over as I was from my waist down, I'd be quite a woman. I became very self-conscious of my body after that shaming  picture was formed in my mind. I would never have thought that some one's words could be defined as sexual abuse, but they were shameful to me even then. The  last memory was of being in a shower and turning to see my abuser  watching. Again, though it made me  ashamed, I would never have considered that   as sexual abuse because there was no physical contact.

We are all created in the image of our Creator. Our bodies are holy in God's  eyes as they are the temple of His Holy Spirit. Every man, woman, and child deserves to be able to set boundaries as to who has the right to share their body. But, thousands of children every day are being robbed of this basic right, whether they are victims of  the sickening sex trafficking or betrayed by perverted people they've loved and trusted. What should have been a time of innonence and happiness as they are protected by those who love them , becomes an unending nightmare. Each of these precious children will grow up filled with shame, fear, guilt, and an unrelenting pain that colors  every aspect of their being--physically, emotonally, mentally, and spiritually.  

But, praise God, if they can find people to walk with them, He will turn what Satan intended for their destruction into healing that shines with His glory.

It has saddened me that I  am becoming physically unable to continue walking with women as they journey toward that healing in our group setting. But, I will continue to tell the story of what God has done in my life as long as He gives me breath.  Because, it is His story and is to be told to encourage others as they see what He did in my life and realize He wants to do the same or even greater in their own lives.

THE WILDFLOWERS

One of the most beautiful things to witness in each of our groups has been the release of  their God-given creativity within the women as they heal. Martha and  I have been blessed to be both observers and recipients of that creativity. With her permission, I am sharing a poem one of our ladies wrote for the other group members along with her letter of gratitude she wrote me at the  conclusion of the first  group in which she participated. Martha, too, received a letter from Georgia. 

God has enriched  Martha's and my life through the deep love and passion we have for the hearts He has entrusted to us, and each of us has developed friendships with them that will last a lifetime. What we have been able to sow into them has been multiplied a thousandfold and we give all the glory, praise, and thanksgiving to the One to whom it belongs forever.
I shared in an earlier post that the name of the materials we use in our "Understanding & Healing Hidden Hurts" sexual abuse recovery group is "In The Wildflowers" by Julie Woodley. Thus the source of Georgia's title for her poem.

                                                         THE WILDFLOWERS

Like the wildflowers, we have an inner beauty that we don't let anyone see.

Because of the lies we believed, we won't let them see the real me.

We  were filled with a lot of fear, a lot of regrets, and a lot of blame,

and our minds were crowded with our guilt and shame.

We started a group with ten steps to work through,

but the childhood sexual abuse had hurt more than we knew.

As we began to share our stories, our pain became more revealing.

But, we are now wildflowers on the road to healing.

We learned that tears are salve on our wounds, while silence is salt;

to take the blame  from ourselves and put it on those at fault;

We were taught that our emotions were the heart cry of our soul,

And we are the wildflowers who will continue to heal and grow.

We learned to let go of our anger, resentment, and fears.

And we did it all through our laughter and tears.

We learned that anger can become our enemy, it isn't a safe place,

And as we released that anger, we saw the bud of a wildflower in each face.

Julie says a life without heart is not worth living at all.

But our hearts had been hidden and we felt so small.

Both our heart and soul were screaming inside so deep,

Yet, we are wildflowers who are learning to be free.

Strangers brought together by the past on that very first night,

but friendships formed as we battled the fright.

No more will we have to fight this battle alone.

We're becoming the best wildflowers we've ever known.

God will restore what the locust has eaten from each of our lives,

as, together we're becoming better parents, grandparents and wives.

We are seven petals that God has formed into His wildflower

So that He could heal us by His wonderful power.

by Georgia Purdue

Oct. 10, 2012

__________

October 4, 2010

Betty,

       There are not enough words to tell you just how important you are to me. It started with Pat

Dew (our church chaplain) talking with me about the group. She picked up a pamphlet and gave it to me that Sunday. I first felt, "Oh, no! What now?" Then, I thought, "Why waste my time?" because it had been such a long time since my abuse. "I don't need it. I don't even like groups." But, I might add I love this one. I just hate the reason that I have to be here.

       I know it had to have been three weeks that I wrestled with this decision. Why was I wrestling so hard if I didn't need it? I told my daughter about it to see what she thought. She said she felt a better connection with you. She thought that I needed it and that it would be a good thing for me t o do.  So, I gave you a call, but only after hearing you speak in church.

And I had to make decision because it was  getting ready to start. I don't know if you could tell, but I was nervous. I never dreamed that you would know who I was, but when you came over to give me a hug and said, "I already love you," I knew you meant it.

     I have looked for love my whole life feeling rejected by everyone else who was supposed to love me, except for my grandchildren. But they know nothing else.

     So, thanks for the warm hugs, the tender love, the broad shoulders to  carry all my tears. I might add, you really needed  a barrel. God has truly gifted you for this ministry. I hope and pray that you are encouraged and healed as well. I love you, and hopefully "Old Faithful" may make it to the next group.

God Bless,

Georgia Purdue

SUMMARY & INVITATIION TO JOURNEY WITH GOD

"If you will allow Me to journey with you in the pain, I will allow you to walk with Me into the redemption of your wounds so they may shine with glory."  -John Eldridge 

That beautiful promise from God is almost impossible for us to grasp if we are in the 1/3 of all women who have suffered the degradation of sexual abuse. But, it is so wonderfully true. My journey with Him made a circle of completion that I could have not imagined when I was traveling it.

• Twelve years of safety and innocence
• Perverted betrayal
• Years of denial, guilt, pain, fear, and confusion
• Breaking emotionally and physically
• Journeying with God through  the pain of healing and coming out of denial. That was by no means a pleasant nor short journey, and many times I wanted to quit. But, with the encouragement of other women journeying with me and the promise above held out by God, I persevered.
• Confrontation and eventual reconciliation with my abuser when he genuinely  asked me to forgive him.
• Being a witness to his reconciliation with his Savior
• And, joy of all joys, partnering with God as we walk with other women on their own journey toward healing--Redemption!

I had allowed God to journey with me through the pain, and His  gift to me was His own passion for other women to experience what I have.

This is a story that I have lived, but it doesn't belong to me. It belongs to the One Who has brought me from the black depths of hopelessness  and allows me to be His heart, hands, and mouth to His precious daughters.

If you are one of the thousands of women who have not begun your journey with God, I want to tell you that the eventual joy of healing is a thousand times greater than facing a past of pain.

If I can help or encourage you in any way, I would love to do so. You can reach me through my email address at betty_barber@aol.com

RECONCILATION, RESTORATION, AND REDEMPTION--FOR OUR GOOD AND HIS GLORY

"Tears are how our heart speaks
 when our lips cannot describe how much we've been hurt."

-Anon

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The morning after I had  gone to my abuser's home, I tried to figure out just what all had happened in that confrontation and what it meant. My husband was upset that I had placed myself in what could have turned out to be a dangerous situation. I knew he was right, but I felt something good had come out of it. My abuser had asked for my forgiveness and I had given it. And when I left, he was still on his knees in tears before God.

My thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. It was my abuser. He was calm and friendly as we spoke. Then he said he thought we needed to talk some more. I felt this was good until he added that he thought we should meet alone as  this didn't involve anyone else.

My mind suddenly  went back to other times when he wanted us to be alone, and I was emotionally that helpless  girl again. In a childlike voice, I said, "I don't want to be alone with you." His voice sounded surprised as he asked, "You don't?"  "No!"

I waited for his anger  to explode, but it didn't. He just couldn't understand my refusal to be  alone with him. I began to tell him of all of the years of pain, shame, fear, guilt, and confusion his sin against my body and soul had caused. I wanted to help him understand that he hadn't just made a little mistake, but that his act of perversion had cost me my innocence, my childhood, my peace of mind, interference with the beautiful act of lovemaking between my husband, my relationships with my children, etc. I talked for  a long time, and only when I had finished did he speak. "I didn't know," he said quietly, and once again asked for me to forgive him.

I didn't realize anyone had overheard my side of the conversation, but my husband had. He put his arms around me and said, "You've come a long way to be able to speak to him the truth and not become angry." He w as right, I had come a long way. And the anger and rage that had driven me for years had run out of fuel as I spoke with my abuser. I would never want to be alone in a prearranged meeting with him, but our relationship had become an honest one.

In the year 2002, my abuser was placed in the nursing facilllity with Alzheimer's. Gradually he forgot who people were. One day I felt I needed to go and see him. As I entered his room, I found him sitting on the side of his bed with his face in his hands and sobbing as if his heart would break.

I called his name and asked what was wrong. Looking up, he recognized me and quickly dropped his head again. Speaking through his sobs, said, "I'm so sorry for what I did to you when you were just a girl. Can you ever forgive me?" He had forgotten the day I had come to his home.

I looked at him and  compassion filled my heart.  "Yes, I forgive you", I told him honestly.

He nodded, keeping his head down. Finally, in almost a whisper, he  asked, "I think Jesus will make it all right, don't  you?"

With tears in my own eyes, I answered, "Oh, He already has." He nodded and with a smile of peace slipped  back into the dark world of Alzheimer's.

I left the nursing home with a light heart as  I thought of how God had taken something so degrading and painful that  I had despaired of living, forgiven me, restored the relationship that sexual abuse had destroyed, and best of all, had loved my abuser into reconciliation with Himself. What an all-loving and all-powerful God we serve.

I had thought the circle was completed. But, now  a passion began to burn in my heart. I read 2 Corinthians 1:3-5 over and over:

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the  comfort we ourselves have received from God."

I want to make it clear that I don't  believe  any child should be subjected to the degradation of sexual abuse. I believe  it is a tool of Satan to fulfill his mission on earth--to steal, kill and destroy the soul each of us. But, because one in every three girls and at least one in every six boys are sexually abused, those of us who have suffered as  they have and tasted of the comfort and healing touch of our God have a responsibility to share what He has done in our lives as a witness of what He desires to do for each of us. Exactly the same way? No, but equally as freeing and complete.

In a piece of prose I wrote in 2002, entitled "Poverty of Pain", God's Holy Spirit, I believe, revealed to me these  truths: "....None of us would ever ask for pain in our lives. In fact, we do all in our power to avoid it. But, until we've suffered deeply, we  cannot, nor do we want to share in the pain of others....Until our hearts are vulnerable enough to share our own pain, others will not speak of theirs."

I am convinced  that that is  the reason God directed me to tell my story. I've literally heard hundreds of  others as they were able to voice for the first   time the pain and shame with which they had lived for way too long. I know that being able to tell our story for the first  time is a relief. But, I also knew that it was just opening the door to much more pain that needed to be released and healed. That was the reason for the passion that now burned within my heart. I wanted to do something but I had no idea where to begin.

My husband and I had been attending Covenant Community Church in Madisonville, Kentucky for a couple of years. We became convinced this was the church we wanted to be a part of, so we took the membership class and joined it. I wanted to be active in my church, so I volunteered to work in Covenant Care. Every Tuesday Covenant Care was open  to offer food and clothing to those in need. I volunteered to organize the clothing and put out the new bags and boxes that arrived weekly. It was a difficult and tiresome job at times, but I had promised to do it and don' t like being a quitter.

I had worked there for about a year when a young man came into the room where I was sorting clothing and introduced  himself as Andrew Harris. He had  been hired to manage the different programs in the church. Andy asked what plans I had for the clothing program. We talked for about ten minutes and I asked abruptly, "Andy. do you know where my passion is?"

"Were?", he asked.

"I have a passion to help women who have been sexually abused."

It had to have been God's timing, for Andy was immediately interested and willing to help in any  way he could. I was overjoyed that I was going to get to fulfill a passion I knew that came from God. That joy lasted for about five minutes when I suddenly realized I had no idea how to go about doing it. I had the passion but had failed to plan any farther. I needed help.

Martha Stevenson had led two sexual support groups that I had attended twenty years earlier when I first began my personal healing journey with God. Through the years we had stood with each other through times of heartache and grown together as we shared our lives. A rich friendship developed between us as we learned to trust one another's hearts. Now, we look back and realize God had a purpose in binding our hearts together. He was building a team.

When I got home that night, I called Martha and told her what had happened--that my church was supportive of my working with women who were still suffering from a past of sexual abuse.

Then I said, "You know why I'm calling you, don''t you, Martha?" She told me she did know and that God had laid the same burden on her heart.

I asked her if she would help me lead a sexual abuse recovery group. Martha didn't hesitate to let me know that she would love to. The two of us met with Andy who encouraged us even more when he told us that if the women had the courage to come to the group then their church wanted to sow into their lives by providing the needed materials. That has encouraged the  women in each of the five groups we have co-facilitated.

Martha and I chose the specific roles we would take as co-leaders, ordered material produced by the American Association of Christian Counselors, prayed, and prepared ourselves as we  awaited the women God would send.

We are leading our fifth group of precious women ranging in  age from nineteen to sixty-five. I am never happier than when we are walking with them through their healing. It's such a joy to watch them bond and learn to love one another. I love each of the women God has entrusted to our guidance. Several of them say I am their mother figure as their  own mothers are no loner living. But, my favorite title is Mamaw Betty. Who would have thought that a beautiful young lady would adopt me at my age? 

I mentioned earlier  that God had restored and reconciled what I lost in childhood. Now, by allowing me to be a part of His healing of others, I feel it has also been redeemed for His glory. Praise the Lord!

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Because the Parkinson's Disease is progressing so rapidly, this will probably be the last group I will get to help Martha facilitate. So, we are training another young woman to take my place. Does that sadden me? Very much so. But, I am proud of what I see as she is showing great promise in that role.

I don't think God is finished using me, though. He opened this avenue and this story has already reached women in seven different countries. I believe He will continue to open doors for me to "tell it".

If this story has touched you, please spread it.

And if you would like to share your story, I would love to read it. My email address is betty_barber@aol.com

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HEALING, RELUCTANT OBEDIENCE, AND CONFRONTATION

In the years since my sister had held me in her arms and whispered that God must have something for me to do, He had done a wonderful  work of healing in my heart, mind, emotions, and actions. And often I wondered about her words, but clung to them and believed she was right. Now, He was about to reveal to me  the nature of that "work", and I believed I was ready to obey Him.

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As I checked back through former posts, I found that the first two have somehow been deleted. As many of you have begun to follow them since the first two were posted, I'm  going to repeat some of   the second one. The first post was mostly an introduction.

In our small United Methodist Church , we had a wonderful revival that lasted for three  months drawing people from other areas as they learned about it. Three incidents happened during that three month period that has given my life purpose and direction these last 15 years. I praise God that He isn't through with us on this earth until we are with Him in Heaven, and that age and physical condition are not barriers--maybe just tests to see if we will obey Him when He asks something of us. I pray that this post will allow you to understand my urgency to get this story out. 

The first incident was when a friend told me she'd had a dream about me the previous night. I asked her what she  had dreamed and she related the following:

"I had come to your house for a visit. You were dressed to leave and asked me  to come with you. I asked where we were going, but you just said, "You'll see." We drove until we came  to a large church. I asked what we were doing there, but all you would tell me was, "You'll see." We walked in and the church was packed with women who stood and clapped as you made your way to the podium. You were there to speak to them, Betty."

I had been amused as I listened until my friend spoke the last sentence. My heart felt as if a knife were piercing it and I began to weep. I knew in my spirit this was no ordinary dream, but that God was revealing to me something He wanted me to do. But, I had no idea what I could speak about that would be of interest to other women.

The next night I listened as the young man behind me stood and gave his testimony of how God had delivered him from a life of alcohol and drugs. "And now He is using my testimony to deliver other people."

Again, pain tore through my heart and tears ran down my cheeks. I didn't open my mouth or even move my lips as my heart cried, "Oh, God, I wish I had a  testimony that would help other people, but mine is too filled with shame!" I had not thought of that as a prayer, but God heard my heart.

A few days later, I sat down in the recliner at home to take a short rest when I heard a voice I'd never heard before but one I recognized immediately. In a voice I can only describe as one of gentle authority, He spoke the following words that are seared into my mind and heart:

"Your testimony is not a testimony of shame, it's a testimony of praise. For it's not about you, it's  about Me and what I've done in your life. And I Want You to Tell It."

I jumped out of that recliner praising God, and as I did, that dirty robe of shame fell from me never to be worn again. I was freed of the final grip that Satan had on my soul from the sexual abuse. And now, He had made clear what He wanted me to tell other women--and I was ready!

The next morning, however, I realized there was something I needed to do before rushing headlong to tell it. God's Spirit reminded me that telling my story was going to affect a lot of people, as it would be impossible (I thought) not to include them in it. I had not been sexually abused for four years in a vacuum. So, I sat down and wrote everyone I thought I might have to mention. I received one precious letter and one very angry telephone call in response. That person had every right to be angry as I could tell my story without involving him/her. Mine is the only story I have the right to tell. I guess I'll never know how the other letters were received, for they never acknowledged receiving them. However, I  felt I had made everyone who might be affected aware that I was going to do what God had directed me to do. 

And, now He began opening doors for me to tell it--churches, prison, small women's groups,
and one on one as hurting women heard of my story and  wanted to share the pain they were carrying. I think the place that both surprised me the most and broke my heart was in Kentucky State Prison with approximately 45 inmates. They listened so attentively that I knew I was striking a   familiar chord. A lot of these men had been sexually abused as children. Although they aren't allowed to hug a woman, they would take my hand in both of theirs, look me directly in the eyes, and say softly, "Thank you, Ma'am" as they filed out of the chapel. The last one in line looked to be a teenager. As I looked into his hurting eyes, I wanted to put my arms around him to take away his pain. Instead, I turned quickly and burst into tears.

 As satisfying as each of these experiences was, I knew they needed more than I could offer them in a telephone conversation or speaking to them. My heart became heavy as I tried to pray about this. But, something seemed to be blocking my prayers.

Eventually, God revealed that He wanted me to go to my abuser and tell him that I had forgiven him. I couldn't believe He would ask me to confront someone who had used me so badly and who now appeared to have convinced himself that he had never done anything wrong. I feared confronting someone whom I knew would become angry. In other words, I knew I was in for quite a scary experience. I decided that was asking more of me than I could do, so I didn't go. But, our God is a patiently persistent and loving God. He knew the plans he had for asking me to go to my abuser, and eventually I could no longer stand being disobedient to Him.

Once I had made up my mind to go, I knew I had to go soon or I would lose my nerve. So, early one morning I got in the car and drove the twenty-plus miles to the home he shared with his wife and her son. I was concerned as to whether or not she should be a part of this confrontation. I needn't have worried.

When I arrived, I saw that the person I'd come to see was not there. Seeing his wife's car in the garage, I decided to visit with her and  maybe learn when her husband would be home. I knocked several times before she came to the door. When she finally did, I knew something was wrong. She never  went  without makeup and her hair always looked as if she had been to a beauty parlor that day. But, today her eyes were red from crying, and she hadn't attempted to comb her hair nor apply the ever-present make-up. I asked what in the world was wrong.  I waited  and had decided she didn't want to answer my question, but suddenly she took a deep breath and said, "My husband accused me last night of sleeping  with my own son. How could he ever  think I could do such a  sick thing?"

That answered any doubt I had as to whether she needed to be included in this confrontation. I felt it was time she knew some answers, so I asked her to sit down. We both sat at the kitchen table and I told her that his accusations  were coming from a guilty conscience. Then I told her of the years of abuse I had suffered  at his hands. We  talked for  a good while before we heard her husband's truck in the driveway.

He walked into the kitchen and looked first at me and then his wife. Turning to me again, he asked angrily, "What are you doing here?" Before I could answer, his wife interjected quickly, "Joe (not his real name), I didn't call her." There was fear in her eyes.

Ignoring her, he demanded again to know why I was there.

"I came to tell you that I forgive you for  the years of sexual abuse at your hands," I  answered determinedly.

His anger turned to rage as he shouted that I was lying and that I was out of place. This went on for what seemed to be forever, but in reality was probably only minutes. Finally, with my hands gripped together in my lap so that he couldn't see them shaking, I said quietly but with conviction, "I'm not afraid of your anger anymore."

Suddenly, he screamed loudly and fell to his knees beside the kitchen chair. As he knelt, he began begging God to forgive him. Then he asked if I could forgive him. I walked around the  table, laid my hand on his shaking shoulder and told him that was all I'd ever wanted to hear. He continued praying, so I slipped out the door. His repentance was between him and the Jesus he had  at one time so loved.

(I had thought that going to my  abuser and telling him I forgave him was for my benefit. What I still have a hard time wrapping my mind around is His love--a love that loves abuser and victim alike. All through the years, he had loved the one who abused me--his victim. And the love of God used the victim to draw the abuser to Himself. I just can't grasp that kind of love, but I gladly accept it.) 

I hadn't realized just how much of a toll on my nerves the scene with him had taken. But, as I put my foot on the gas pedal, it shook up and down on it making the car buck jump. I realized then that my body was shaking all over. I prayed, "Oh, God, You brought me here. Please help me get home safely!" He did, and as soon as my husband returned home from work, I told him everything that had taken place with my abuser. He listened but didn't comment just then. It would be the next day before I knew how he felt about the confrontation.

I pray, as you read my story, that if  you, too, have a history of sexual abuse, that you will not compare your story with mine or any other person's. We each, if we allow Him, will walk our own journey to wholeness with God along the path He ordains. I began my own journey at the age of 48, so I've traveled it for 25 years. I've called it a terribly/wonderful journey. God brought me through the terrible part and walks with me still through the wonderful part.            

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 Not, everyone will be asked to confront their abuser as I was. But, in case you feel God leading you to do so, here are some tips I learned from my own experience plus a few I've read of others' experiences.

1. BE SENSITIVE TO GOD'S TIME WHEN AND IF HE LEADS YOU TO GO TO HIM.

    Don't be pressured by others, or your own sense of what is the right thing to do.

2. NEVER GO ALONE!

    Some abusers are violent and could harm you. Confrontation takes a toll on us regardless of the outcome. We need the physical and emotional support of another person.

3. GO IN PRAYER AND NOT IN YOUR OWN STRENGTH.

4. KNOW YOUR MOTIVE FOR GOING.
    
    Though I chose not to share it, I had confronted my abuser once before--in anger. I came away from that experience shaken by the fact that I had wanted to kill him.

5. TRUST GOD FOR DISCERNMENT IN DETECTING FALSE SORROW (SELF-PITY) FROM TRUE REPENTANCE.
   
   True repentance will show itself as real sorrow over his sin. False sorrow will show itself as self-pity.

6. DON'T OFFER RELATIONSHIP WITHOUT REPENTANCE

     Forgiveness can be offered w/out repentance, relationship cannot.

7. KNOW WHAT IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY AND WHAT IS NOT.

    Make no demands on your abuser, but don't back down from stating the truth and offering forgiveness. Once we've genuinely done this, our responsibility toward him is done. We must keep our hearts open for his repentance, but not try and make things easy for him to deny his sin, commit it against someone else, or take away his need for repentance.

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SETTING OUT ON AN UNCHARTED JOURNEY

A quick summary for those who are reading these posts for the first time:

I am 73 years old and was diagnosed last year with Parkinson's Disease. It is a disease in which the brain doesn't make enough of the chemical that controls the muscles. It is progressive and has very  quickly limited my ability to move. The story I've been relating in former posts is one  that I have an urgency to get to as many women who have been sexually abused as I possibly can. I don't tell it as an ego trip. It is a passion I have to let these women  know how very much our God wants us to be healed completely of the shame, fear, and protective habits we have developed to keep ourselves safe. Healing is a journey. This is an account of my journey with the  wonderful and life-changing ending that I want to share. It is an account of what God has done in my life as I've made this journey with Him. It is to  tell you that He desires the same for you as He has done for me.

I have shared the part of my journey that I made mostly on my own. I made many mistakes in doing that--choosing two incompatible husbands, keeping the secret of the abuse locked deep in my soul for many years, living a life of denial, attempting suicide, and finally reaching the end of my own strength by having what the doctor diagnosed as "a near nervous breakdown".  It was at this point, broken and helpless, that I finally admitted that I had been damaged and needed help--help that God was waiting to give. And, I began to allow him to guide and walk with me on the journey toward healing. It was not an easy journey and it would test the strength of my wonderful marriage and me  as an individual.

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When I returned from the 2 1/2 weeks in  the program for sexually abused women, I felt I had done all I needed to do to complete my healing. But, it didn't take me long to realize that I still needed help.   I joined a secular support group led by a trained counselor. They all seemed to be stuck  at the anger stage and soon I  followed their example. My anger didn't stay within the group setting, though. I brought it home with me and my family suffered the brunt of it. After several weeks of this, my husband told me he thought I was getting worse  instead of better. He was right.  I quit that group and waited to see what I should do next.

As I waited, I realized that my husband was getting tired of hearing about my past. He wanted me to quit "feeling sorry for myself",  put it behind me and become the wife he'd married twelve years earlier. But, I had tried that too long and failed. The woman he had married  no longer existed, for I could never go back to living the lie of denial. Whatever it took or no matter the cost, I wanted to be real and honest in my inner being as the Bible tells us God desires.

Our relationship became very strained and we could barely speak to one another.One night I told him I was leaving but that I would be back. He asked where I was going  and I answered honestly that I  didn't know. I just knew that I had to get away from the strain long enough to think clearly. I ended up in a motel room a few  miles from home.  Unable to sleep, I sat and wrote all night long about my past. When I returned home the next morning, I handed what  I had  written to  my husband. He sat down and began reading it. When he had finished, he looked up with compassion in his eyes and asked, "How can I help?" I asked him to just let me heal. I thought I coulld go through the healing process and he wouldn't have to be involved. But, what affects one marriage partner affects the other, so we finally decided to face this together. 

A few  days later, a friend and fellow teacher called. She was having  a  terrible reaction to some medication her doctor had prescribed. Knowing that I had had several such reactions, she thought I might be able to help. Brenda (not her real name) was not making much sense as she talked, so I advised her to call her doctor. She was about to hang up when with as much clarity of mind as ever, she told me she had seen a friend of hers in Madisonville by the name of Martha Stevenson  that day. "She's about to start a group that I  think you should  be a part of." She gave me Martha's telephone number and, without further explanation, hung up.

I  called Martha the next day. She was very friendly and invited me to attend a Christ-centered sexual abuse recovery group that she and her pastor's wife would be co-facilitating beginning the following week. Although I was for some reason terrified, I decided to check it out. Martha greeted me with open arms and calmed my fears.

It was a large group. As it began, we were invited to tell our stories. They began on the other side of  the room and as I listened, all I could think was that, except for the specifics, each of them was telling my life's story. Many of them had attempted suicide, all of them had physical ailments that the doctor couldn't diagnose, all of them had problems with relationships and several had been married more than once, and all of them struggled in their Christian walk. I knew I was in the right place and that God had brought me there through a friend who was out of her  mind with medication.

As the group progressed, the rage that I had suppressed for so long surfaced--along with the pain, guilt, and shame with which I had lived for better than 35 years. (Martha laughs as she tells me how much my anger scared her when I would explode in the  group.)  Fortunately for me, she didn't  let me know that. I would have shut down and slowed the progress of healing. 

There were many times I wanted to just quit the group and slide back  down into the hole of denial. But, that spark of hope and the encouragement of my fellow "travelers" kept me on the journey I had begun. I kept a journal during that time and want to share a few words from it.

Feb. 15, 1992
          "The Monster rears its head again  today! ....I feel drained and deserted as I awaken--numb almost. I lie there until feeling comes. and what comes is a deep desire (fantasy really) for a hospital somewhere that could open up abused persons' heads and cut away all of the pain, the memories, the denial--and I could come back to my family, my friends, and everyone my " old sellf'. Only, this time it would be real and not pretense. The black wouldn't be flauntingly pointing out the  falseness within and I wouldn't be silently screaming for someone to recognize how much I'm really hurting. For I feel that the only time I'm not pretending is when I'm facing the reality of the pain....I'm so heavy! 'Lord, it seems so much easier to kill my soul again--at least temporarily. But, You, in Your all-encompassing wisdom, refuse to allow that. ... I realize that my only source of healing is from you, and that this struggle is mine to face. I cannot force it on my family--even when it seems that the pain is the only reality that there is. So, I ask You not to take the pain away (though my human frame longs secretly for a miraculous instantaneous "cure) until my soul is bared and I see myself in all the ugliness --not only of what someone else has done to me, but the even greater pain I've caused myself by not having the courage to really live, and thus aborting the reason for which You created me. Thank You for Your love, understanding, and strength that You alone can provide. And Father thank You for a place where I can be real for a couple of hours each week among others who understand as no one else can."

My purpose in sharing a little of the pain of my journey is to let those of you who may be at various stages of your own healing journey know that I understand your pain and have been there, and I never want to forget that struggle. For if I do, I will not have the compassion to be willing to hurt with you on your own journey. And if I forget the pain, I will forget to honor the One who brought me through it by obeying Him and telling it.

I shared in an earlier post that I called this a terribly/wonderful journey. When we have surgery to cut away cancer from our bodies, we suffer physical pain before  we are healed. The same applies to emotional healing. As God cuts away that which is making us "sick", there is deep emotional pain. But, just as we entrust our bodies to a surgeon for physical healing, we can entrust our pain-filled emotions to the Great Physician. I've begun by describing and sharing some of the terrible part of this terribly/wonderful journey. I think understanding the terrible part helps each of us to better appreciate and be grateful for God's wonderful healing grace.

As I had done following the group I had participated in during the 2 1/2 week hospital stay, I felt when this group was finished that my healing journey was complete, but it wasn't. Two years later, I attended another group led by Martha. This time we used Dan Allender's The Wounded Heart with an accompanying workbook. It had much more depth than the book we'd used the first time and helped us to see and take  responsibility for how our ways of protecting ourselves had hurt everyone we loved. I began  reading every  book I could find that I felt would help me to reach my goal of being whole. And I found a wealth of them that helped me  to continue learning about  sexual abuse, it's prevalence, and the very real and damaging after effects that haunted those who had suffered at the hands of a perpetrator. The more I learned, the more compassion I felt for these women and the need to do something to help them. 

When I would go to seminars and prayer was offered, I would always go up. Two of those times stand out as evidence that God was continuing his healing work in my life. One was in Goodletsville, Tennessee. Martha and I were becoming trusted friends and had decided  to attend this conference together. As the man leading the conference was praying with me,he asked me to visualize the one who had abused me kneeling at the altar behind us. I am not a visual person, so I was surprised when I did envision him kneeling there crying. But, God did more than allow me to see my abuser repenting. Behind the altar was a black robed person with arms folded across the chest. I could not see a face, but I knew in my heart that it was me and that I was standing in self-righteous judgement of my abuser. When the man who was praying with me asked  what I would like to say to my abuser, I answered, "I think I need to join him at the altar."

The second prayer that affected me deeply was at the altar of a large Methodist Church in Pensacola, Florida. As I walked toward him, he said, "I see that you are in need of some healing." I  didn't have to tell him why I was there, for  God's Holy Spirit revealed it to him. I was amazed  as I listened to his prayer and it was like oil to my soul. Then he asked me to open my eyes and look at him. I looked into a pair of the most compassionate and loving eyes I had ever seen. All I could think of was, "This is what it must have felt like looking into Jesus' eyes."

"Will you forgive me?" he asked. I was completely  taken back. But, as I continued to look into those compelling eyes, there was only one answer I could give. "Yes", I whispered. And I felt a tight band snap from around my heart. Another man had been praying with Dick, and suddenly I heard a heartbroken sob as he threw his arms around me saying, "I'm so sorry for what happened to you." God allowed him a glimpse into the horror of sexual abuse and it broke his heart.

As God poured more of his compassion into my healing heart, I began to look for ways to reach out to others in similar pain.  For two years, I volunteered at Rape Victim Services in Owensboro, Kentucky. While there, my heart ached with several girls and women. But, one child I will never forget. I went  to the police station to stay with her while the police went to get the stepfather who raped her on  a regular basis. As I sat on the couch with her head in my lap, she said, "Now my mama will believe me." I fought back the tears as her mother stood on the other side of the door where the police had locked us for our safety and screamed to her daughter, "You're a dirty little liar. He never touched you." When the police finally took her mother away, that child's hopelessness was too heartbreaking to watch. She lay her exhausted little body down with her head in my lap and slept.

The midnight calls and making the nearly thirty mile drive became too much and I quit volunteering at RVS. Martha and I were becoming closer to each other as we walked with one another through some rough times in each of our  lives. We became transparently true with one another as we learned to  trust each other's hearts. Neither of us dreamed that God was uniting our hearts that we might serve him together one day. I was just content to have a friend who knew me so well and loved me in spite of it. All of the years I had lived with a dark secret, I had not allowed another friend into my heart.

I took the training to volunteer at Door of Hope Pregnancy Care Center in Madisonville and was there about four years. Each experience broadened my understanding and acceptance of people whose experiences in life were so different from mine. And each time I grew, God was preparing my heart for His purpose for my life.  

GROWING UP FAST

INNOCENCE TURNS TO SHAME

I walked slowly toward the house. My heart was broken and the world had become a fearful place in the blinking of an eye. Tentatively, I placed my right foot on the bottom step leading up to the porch. When it held my weight, I was surprised. I had expected to it dissolve beneath me the way life as I had known it had. My mind was whirling as I tried to grasp what had been done to me by someone I loved and trusted. Why had he so betrayed that love and trust? Approximately 30 minutes ago,I had been awakened from a deep and peaceful sleep as I lay on a quilt in the yard to escape the suffocating July heat that made the house unbearable. We didn't have air conditiioning. As I slowly awakened, I felt hands groping my body. I opened my eyes to protest and was filled with horror and unbllief as the bright moonight identified the person who was violating both my body and soul. Filled with shame and fear, I closed my eyes and pretended to stil be sleeping. I was too ashamed to even let him know that I was aware of what he was doing to me. Eventually, he quit and went on his way. I was left feeling dirty, used, and, most of all, confused. It was in this state of confusion that I made my way into the house and to bed. When I awoke the next morning, I lay there with a vague feeling of uneasines until the experience of the night before once again filled me with a pervadng shame. I didn't realize it then, but shame was to become so ingrained in my heart that it would be my constant companion for the next 45 years. I became so flled with it that it affected every aspect of my personality. And it was shame that made me keep that vile secret to myself. Sadly, the same silences many children today and has done so through the years. It was the knowledge of my silence that gave my abuser the opportunity to continue violating me. He knew his vile acts were "safe" with me. I learned to be on constant alert for his presence and tried to avoid ever being alone with him -- without success. But, living in a state of hypervigilence took its toll on my emotional stability. After a year, I began having long, uncontrollable crying spells. Mom tried for weeks to find out what was wrong and finally took me to our gruff family doctor of whom I was afrad. After Mom told him what was happening, he demanded to know what was going on. The only response he got from his questioning was my pesistant "Nothing,". He finally became angry with me and left his office. I was never able to share with my mother that I was living a life of hopeless desperation. The human mind can only stand so much until it must find an outlet for the torment, shame, fear, and guilt that filled every tense moment of my concious thoughts. At age 15, my brain found that outlet in the form of grand mal seizures. My seizures were uncontrolled for the next twenty years. In 1975, I entered the hospital for a hysterectomy. I asked the nurses if they would tell Dr. Segarbarth I would like to see him while I was in the hospital. He was the doctor who had diagnosed me as being an epeleptic twenty years earlier. It was surely God Who had led me to ask to see him, for after an EEG he told me there was no reason for me to ever have another seizure if he got my medication regulated. In tbe 40 plus years since then, I have suffered one seizure. The doctor had put me on a s strong antidepressant when I was hospitalized in 1988 for severe depressiion. It caused the seizure. I had always believed my seizures were the result of the sexual abuse, but because I took so long to confide in my doctor, my belief wasn't confirmed until last year on the day I was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease. I told Dr. Cox, a neurologist I'd known for many years and who knew of my history of sexual abuse, that I had read in a book several years ago that when a teenage girl started having seizures and no physical cause could be found, that her family dyamics should be checkd. He repled quietly, " We're taught that in medical school." For a few days, I was saddened that I had spent so many years on medication and suffered numerous seizures, yet no doctor had ever asked about my family dynamics. Then it dawned on me that even if they had, they would have probably concluded that we were the "perfect family" that I'd often heard my mother say we were, for I realized that I could never have overcome my shame to let them know the truth. Gradually, I figured out a way to make my abuser leave me alone. I would go into a violent rage and he was afraid of my anger. This helped to solve an immediate problem, but eventually became a problem itself, for i used anger as a tool to solve most of my problems. Anger can become an addiction of its own, and that's just wnat nappened to me. And it affected every relationship in my adult life. I began dating a boy my Sophomore year in High School. He was fun to be with, and I was not above pulling an occasional trick on him. One Sunday we stopped at the restaurant in the small town about three miles from my home. We each ordered a Coke. Before they arrived, my date had turned around and was talking with the couple in the booth behind us. I started drinking my coke and waited for him to turn his attention back to me. I waited......and waited.......and waited. Finally, I thought he needed some punishment for ignoring me, so I carefully emptied quite a bit of the salt shaker in his coke,wiped it clean and waited. After a few more minutes of being so neglected, I picked up the pepper shaker and did as I has with the salt shaker.... and waited. At last my patience was rewarded when he turned around and took a big drink from his coke. I'm not sure which bulged the most--his eyes or his cheeks. But, his eyes told me I was in trouble, so I grabbed his keys, ran to the car, and locked the doors. I wouldn't open them until he promised not to hurt me. I was sick the next day and he sent a note home by my sister. At the bottom was a picture he'd drawn of my childish prank entitled, "The Peppering Princess". We dated for a couple of years and I began to realize that his family was a bit higher on the social ladder than ours. Besides, I felt dirty and beneatb him. I sabotaged our relatiionship and began dating a boy I felt was more on my level. I was too hard-headed to listen to the warnings from teachers and others that it was a mistake. I had to learn that lesson for myself.