Life has been busy, busy. We are doing well to keep our head above water raising our three daughters, working full time, staying connected to people we love, and we're going on almost two years in the adoption process. Our schedules are restrictive, our lives are constantly on the go, and we are doing the very best we can to be people of character, people who extend grace and forgiveness, and people who hold true to the faith we profess. We are also people who find it of upmost importance, now more than ever, to raise our girls in the same way. To be kind to others regardless of color, looks, or what they're wearing. To stand up for those who are being bullied and if they are being bullied, to have a voice. To love without limits and to forgive easily. I just told my Callie last night who is now 7 and whose heart is as soft as mashed potatoes- after she had a hard day and she had apologized and kept apologizing over and over- "I forgive you. If I said I forgive you, we don't have to keep talking about it anymore. It's over and we move on and make better choices." "But mommy, I was so mean. I don't deserve for you to be nice to me." Ah, sweet child, the things I am not deserving of. Our littles are great teachers.
We are in a sticky place with social media. I tell myself every other day I'm deleting it. It can all be too much sometimes with the opinions, the hateful spews of people who disagree with other people, the name calling, the mom shaming, the joy stealing trap of comparison that's put on display day in and day out. But I stay because of the good that comes from it. The pictures I get to see of friend's families, the women's group I'm a part of through my church, the business page I'm tied to with my job. The outpouring of love and prayers I've seen given to grieving families, people getting answers they need, or direction they're searching for.
Something that is certainly unavoidable right now are the situations where women are coming forward with abuse allegations and they are met with doubt, questions, and worse, unbelief. And hear me, this is not me talking about one specific situation, what they've said and haven't said, what they've done and haven't done. I'm not writing this as someone's attorney or defendant. It has however, stirred something in me to write about my own situation. My own experience. I don't feel there are any clear answers, but everyone is so quick to jump on social media, share all the memes tearing others down who have an opposite stance, so quick to judge someone's entire character based on what they think about a situation that is so far from their actual life. Who do we think we are to treat each other this way? It's so reminiscent of the election, nauseates me to think of where we're at as human beings.
I'm sharing this because I'm a woman who was sexually abused. I'm sharing this because I'm a mom. I'm sharing this because I'm a daughter. I'm sharing this because I'm a friend to other women who have gone through the same things. I'm sharing this knowing I'm being completely vulnerable, knowing it may not be received well. And that's ok. I am encouraged by other women in my life who have come forward with their experiences and if I can be an encouragement for someone else experiencing any kind of abuse in any way, then it's worth it.
When I was six years old, I was molested by my great uncle on multiple occasions. Let me say it again- SIX YEARS OLD. My oldest daughter is 7, my middle is 5. He was a man my parents trusted. He was someone my family loved and when he became very ill, he lived with us. I was left in his care just a couple of times, once being when my parents had to run my sister to the ER because I slammed her finger in the door- yikes! These memories are in no order but these are the ones I remember. I remember him being on top of me in the living room floor. I remember his hands all over me. I remember him leaving the bathroom door open while he urinated. I remember him holding me close to him while he was sitting down so he could rub himself on me. I remember pushing away my four year old sister when he reached for her. I remember sitting on the toilet crying because of physical pain. I remember when he was on his death bed in the hospital, I stayed as far away as I could until I was escorted to his bedside to give him a "hug" goodbye. He held on tight as I tried to pull away. I wanted him to die and when he did, I didn't shed a tear. I didn't understand what had been done to me but I knew it was wrong. I knew I didn't like it. I knew it felt dirty. He threatened me and made me promise to keep it a secret. I didn't tell anyone until after he died. I was seven years old when I finally told my older sister first. I said, and I remember to this day, "Do you know the sex thing? Uncle ---- did that to me." So began the crying, the breaking of my mom's heart, the many nights I spent awake, being rocked by my mother, afraid he was going to come back and get me. I spoke with the school counselor a few times but it was really the comfort of my parents that gave me the most solace. My dad would have killed him. He would've been in jail no doubt.
There are parts to that story that I don't remember. It was just last year, as a 33 year old, that I finally got the nerve to ask my mom what that conversation was like between she and I when I was a terrified seven year old. She told me I said "his fingers hurt me". She told me after she put me to bed that night, that she stood on the back patio with my dad screaming and crying that she hoped he was burning in hell. That was something the Lord blocked from my memory. I remember pain after but not during the abuse. Does that make it any less true? I am thankful I don't remember all of it. That is grace to me. But how hurtful it would be to be told I was lying or making something up because I couldn't recall every detail.
Fast forward a couple of years and my mom, sister, and I were heavily involved in our church at the time. My mom drove the van for Wednesday night kids program because no one else would. There was a boy, a bigger boy, probably atleast 2-3 grades older who liked me. He wrote me a note one Wednesday night to be his girlfriend and I said no. On a Sunday morning following that night, we were upstairs in one of the classrooms of the church. Our sunday school class had released early and everyone left the classroom and he closed the door before I could get out. There was a long rectangular table with chairs around it. I watched him lock the door and turn and look at me. He started to come after me. I was on the opposite side of the table. I by the grace of God, made it to the door to the joining classroom, where they were still in session. I put my hand on it and told him I would open it if he didn't let me out. Then he did.
Jump ahead many years to where I was working my first waitressing job at 18 years old. I had just come back into the kitchen from taking an order and was getting glasses out to make the drinks. When I bent down to grab some glasses, a man working there, stuck his hand down the back of my pants into my panties. I stood up quickly, looked him in the eyes, but couldn't utter a word. I was frozen. He gave a slimy smile and walked away. I never said anything to anyone about him.
These are the things that I carry with me. These are the memories that help shape what kind of mother I am to my daughters. I take every precautionary, I have had many talks with them about who can see them naked, touch them, etc. What inappropriate touch is, to ALWAYS tell mommy or daddy if ANYONE touches them in anyway that makes them feel uncomfortable. When I was in high school, I knew many girls who had experienced similar abuse, some went through way worse than I did. A couple I knew were raped by family members. It is staggering to me to think about my daughters going through anything like this. What's worse to me is them feeling they can't say anything to anyone about it. So here momma is, laying it all out. The gruesome and the ugly. One day, I will tell them about my experiences because I want to lead with vulnerability. I want them to know that God has healed my hurt. I want them to know it's imperative that they be their own advocates in a world of rock throwers and hushers.
If you are a woman or a man who has been abused in any way, please tell a trusted someone. It's so important for healing to make that first step giving voice to hurt. We are not required to stay in ANY situation, job, marriage, or relationship where there is ANY kind of abuse. Even verbal and emotional abuse can cause lasting damage and can trickle down into other relationships year after year. The stones of abuse will only be unturned for so long. It always finds ways to rear it's ugly head if not properly dealt with. Keeping things quiet is a detrimental poison.
I am a strong woman. I know and love strong women. I'm doing my best to raise strong women. Strong doesn't equal silent. It doesn't equal passive. Strong comes with experience, with transparency, with vocalizing hurt and finding ways to pursue healing. I am strengthened by my God and His promises for me, I am strengthened by my loved ones who show up always, and I am strengthened by the ones who give a head nod and say "Me, too."
Monday, October 8, 2018
Thursday, January 25, 2018
Bird in a Barren Bush
A few days ago, I found myself sitting in Walgreens parking lot. I was there picking up a prescription for my daughter who was just diagnosed with strep and of course, meds weren't ready. Instead of driving home, I found a cozy parking spot, put my van in park, and closed my eyes. Silence. Quiet. Escape. Breather. It was a crazy couple of weeks with sick kiddos and mine and my husband's work schedules and it was nice to just stop.
After a few minutes, I opened my eyes. I was parked where I could see traffic going in and out and to my right were three bushes. They were brown and barren like most of the trees and and surrounding bushes. Something about these bushes caught my eye though and drew me in. In these bushes, there were birds. I started looking closer and there were birds in all of the bushes, hopping around. They started chirping loudly in unison. The chirping went on for a couple of minutes then came to a complete stop. No one would ever know these birds were in these bushes unless they were as close to them as I was. They were camouflaged by the color of the sticks. These little guys must have been seeking shelter from the cold wind that day. I remember being out in the wind taking my daughter into the doctor and covering our faces because the air was so frigid. Maybe that was it. They were trying to get far enough down into the bush to cover themselves from the fierce wind. Maybe they were looking for a bush that had leaves on it, maybe they were trying to get sticks to take to some other place to form a nest. Maybe they didn't know why they were in the bush, they just saw a fellow bird, and started flying behind them and that's where they landed. Maybe they heard the chirping and wanted to join in.
On the way home, I kept thinking about those birds in the barren bushes. Now I know it's probably common practice for birds to gather like that. I'm no bird expert. I couldn't help but see something familiar here, something close to home, something I've seen before. I've seen this scenario played out in my friend's lives, in the lives of family members, in people's lives I've never met, and I've seen it in myself. I think the obvious comparison we want to jump to is the bird. So, let's be the bird for a moment, the bird in the bush. Have you ever felt like you wanted to hide? Like you wanted to cover up something? That you needed shelter? A safe place? That your cries were drowned out by someone else's cries or not heard at all? We are a society that loves to hide. We find comfort in knowing we'll never be seen for who we are. In fact, we go great lengths in safeguarding ourselves so no one will ever be allowed to REALLY see what's going on in our world, our homes, or our lives. Even at surface level authenticity, we are really on the struggle bus. What's the first thing we as women do when we're getting ready for the day? We cover up. We pull out the concealer, the foundation, the powder, the contour stick, ALL THE COSMETICS, and we blend and rub and cover. What about those lines that are on my neck? Nope, not showing those today. What about my dark circles? They won't ever know I have them. And forget about showing any trace of acne or blemish. Sephora has my back. Now listen, I am a hairstylist and have been in an industry for 10 plus years that centers around making women feel more confident in their looks and I love me some makeup and I love hair color, but it is in fact, covering your God given natural assets. Just like hair color can take away those grays in about 30 minutes for 5 more weeks, we so quickly want to cover what we see in the mirror from head to toe. If you can't tone it, tan it. Wear four shirts to cover up the jiggle. Never show your legs because they look like a roadmap of varicose veins. Cover, layer, and put it away.
How does that translate emotionally? Mentally? At work? In relationships? With your spouse? As a parent? As a Christian? As a human being? We cling to social media in ways that are detrimental to our well being on so many levels. We fuel passive aggression by posting memes and statuses that don't mention names but we have it out there for certain people to read in hopes that they'll get offended or insecure or will be upset. Passive aggression is one of the most attractive ways to keep hiding because it keeps everyone and everything in the dark. We hunker down behind our screens and shoot out missiles without any purpose other than to hurt. But hurt who? Hurt people hurt people. We want to prove a point, shine a light on someone else, point the finger, and cast the blame. Why? Because they deserve it Because they hurt me. Because I'm so offended by X, Y, and Z. What does it look like to gather those missiles and turn that pointer finger around? What kind of hard work does it take to look in the mirror, accept what you see, and work on it from there without lashing out? What if our selfies were less about the angle of the camera and more about a straight picture of the heart?
The bird is no longer in that bush. It came out, flew out, went about its way to a warmer bush, maybe still a barren one with it being winter. But the bird knows there are blue skies, green grass, lavish bushes, and plenty of twigs coming in Spring. So the bird makes due until then. In this scenario, lets not overlook the barren bush. The barren bush is not seen. It's brown, naked, and really can't even claim it's worth looking at. It's feeble attempt in keeping the birds warm is sad. Raise your hand if you see yourself in the bush. Hello, there I am! I go through seasons of feeling vibrant, full of life, and beaming with the sunshine and bearing yummy fruit. And all too often, I feel like that barren bush. Weathered by the storm, feeling cold and naked, longing for someone to take shelter beneath my leaves but I have none to offer. Something I've learned over the years is I can't protect all the ones I love. I see those birds in that bush still shivering, still longing for shelter from the cold. I've always wanted to protect and preserve. To uphold, encourage, and edify when needed. But I have also learned we can absolutely be depleted of those things and be left feeling like a pile of dry sticks with nothing to give at all. I have carried that burden and will carry it for years to come I imagine. But the Lord has been gracious in reminding me it's not my job to uphold, to fulfill someone else's emotional needs, or to protect everyone from harm at all times. If I stay in that space, I am liable to self destruct in a way. Then I will have nothing to show for, nothing to produce, and nothing to offer.
My favorite part of this scene is the part that hadn't happened yet, not while I was watching anyway. The part when the wind got a little warmer, the birds got a little braver, and they all came up out of that barren bush, spread their wings, and took off. Shivering, I'm sure. Flying maybe a little wobbly from being perched in that bush for a little while. But the wings are open, the sights are set, and while destination may be unknown, the bird is breaking free and soaring. No greenery around yet, not much on the ground to make a nest out of, but there he goes. Vulnerable, bare, showing everyone what he's got. Not a bald eagle making it's flight across a majestic ocean, but a little shivering bird, freely flying to whatever's next.
What's got your wings tied friend? What are you hiding from or trying to cover up in your barren bush? Or are you trying to be someone else's safe harbor only to find yourself barren and unable to fulfill? Truth, authenticity, and transparency are hard things, but my God, when we embrace them, we are sure to be flying. It doesn't come without hard work, raw emotions, and real conversations, but start somewhere. Wipe off the makeup, take off the Spanx, come out from behind the screen and do the hard things. The creator of the world says we are fearfully and wonderfully made. Even if you can't stand the sight of yourself, or others for that matter, just think about that. The same God that formed the mountains and gave light to the stars also made you and says you, says they, are wonderfully made. Look up, take a deep breath, and spread your wings!
After a few minutes, I opened my eyes. I was parked where I could see traffic going in and out and to my right were three bushes. They were brown and barren like most of the trees and and surrounding bushes. Something about these bushes caught my eye though and drew me in. In these bushes, there were birds. I started looking closer and there were birds in all of the bushes, hopping around. They started chirping loudly in unison. The chirping went on for a couple of minutes then came to a complete stop. No one would ever know these birds were in these bushes unless they were as close to them as I was. They were camouflaged by the color of the sticks. These little guys must have been seeking shelter from the cold wind that day. I remember being out in the wind taking my daughter into the doctor and covering our faces because the air was so frigid. Maybe that was it. They were trying to get far enough down into the bush to cover themselves from the fierce wind. Maybe they were looking for a bush that had leaves on it, maybe they were trying to get sticks to take to some other place to form a nest. Maybe they didn't know why they were in the bush, they just saw a fellow bird, and started flying behind them and that's where they landed. Maybe they heard the chirping and wanted to join in.
On the way home, I kept thinking about those birds in the barren bushes. Now I know it's probably common practice for birds to gather like that. I'm no bird expert. I couldn't help but see something familiar here, something close to home, something I've seen before. I've seen this scenario played out in my friend's lives, in the lives of family members, in people's lives I've never met, and I've seen it in myself. I think the obvious comparison we want to jump to is the bird. So, let's be the bird for a moment, the bird in the bush. Have you ever felt like you wanted to hide? Like you wanted to cover up something? That you needed shelter? A safe place? That your cries were drowned out by someone else's cries or not heard at all? We are a society that loves to hide. We find comfort in knowing we'll never be seen for who we are. In fact, we go great lengths in safeguarding ourselves so no one will ever be allowed to REALLY see what's going on in our world, our homes, or our lives. Even at surface level authenticity, we are really on the struggle bus. What's the first thing we as women do when we're getting ready for the day? We cover up. We pull out the concealer, the foundation, the powder, the contour stick, ALL THE COSMETICS, and we blend and rub and cover. What about those lines that are on my neck? Nope, not showing those today. What about my dark circles? They won't ever know I have them. And forget about showing any trace of acne or blemish. Sephora has my back. Now listen, I am a hairstylist and have been in an industry for 10 plus years that centers around making women feel more confident in their looks and I love me some makeup and I love hair color, but it is in fact, covering your God given natural assets. Just like hair color can take away those grays in about 30 minutes for 5 more weeks, we so quickly want to cover what we see in the mirror from head to toe. If you can't tone it, tan it. Wear four shirts to cover up the jiggle. Never show your legs because they look like a roadmap of varicose veins. Cover, layer, and put it away.
How does that translate emotionally? Mentally? At work? In relationships? With your spouse? As a parent? As a Christian? As a human being? We cling to social media in ways that are detrimental to our well being on so many levels. We fuel passive aggression by posting memes and statuses that don't mention names but we have it out there for certain people to read in hopes that they'll get offended or insecure or will be upset. Passive aggression is one of the most attractive ways to keep hiding because it keeps everyone and everything in the dark. We hunker down behind our screens and shoot out missiles without any purpose other than to hurt. But hurt who? Hurt people hurt people. We want to prove a point, shine a light on someone else, point the finger, and cast the blame. Why? Because they deserve it Because they hurt me. Because I'm so offended by X, Y, and Z. What does it look like to gather those missiles and turn that pointer finger around? What kind of hard work does it take to look in the mirror, accept what you see, and work on it from there without lashing out? What if our selfies were less about the angle of the camera and more about a straight picture of the heart?
The bird is no longer in that bush. It came out, flew out, went about its way to a warmer bush, maybe still a barren one with it being winter. But the bird knows there are blue skies, green grass, lavish bushes, and plenty of twigs coming in Spring. So the bird makes due until then. In this scenario, lets not overlook the barren bush. The barren bush is not seen. It's brown, naked, and really can't even claim it's worth looking at. It's feeble attempt in keeping the birds warm is sad. Raise your hand if you see yourself in the bush. Hello, there I am! I go through seasons of feeling vibrant, full of life, and beaming with the sunshine and bearing yummy fruit. And all too often, I feel like that barren bush. Weathered by the storm, feeling cold and naked, longing for someone to take shelter beneath my leaves but I have none to offer. Something I've learned over the years is I can't protect all the ones I love. I see those birds in that bush still shivering, still longing for shelter from the cold. I've always wanted to protect and preserve. To uphold, encourage, and edify when needed. But I have also learned we can absolutely be depleted of those things and be left feeling like a pile of dry sticks with nothing to give at all. I have carried that burden and will carry it for years to come I imagine. But the Lord has been gracious in reminding me it's not my job to uphold, to fulfill someone else's emotional needs, or to protect everyone from harm at all times. If I stay in that space, I am liable to self destruct in a way. Then I will have nothing to show for, nothing to produce, and nothing to offer.
My favorite part of this scene is the part that hadn't happened yet, not while I was watching anyway. The part when the wind got a little warmer, the birds got a little braver, and they all came up out of that barren bush, spread their wings, and took off. Shivering, I'm sure. Flying maybe a little wobbly from being perched in that bush for a little while. But the wings are open, the sights are set, and while destination may be unknown, the bird is breaking free and soaring. No greenery around yet, not much on the ground to make a nest out of, but there he goes. Vulnerable, bare, showing everyone what he's got. Not a bald eagle making it's flight across a majestic ocean, but a little shivering bird, freely flying to whatever's next.
What's got your wings tied friend? What are you hiding from or trying to cover up in your barren bush? Or are you trying to be someone else's safe harbor only to find yourself barren and unable to fulfill? Truth, authenticity, and transparency are hard things, but my God, when we embrace them, we are sure to be flying. It doesn't come without hard work, raw emotions, and real conversations, but start somewhere. Wipe off the makeup, take off the Spanx, come out from behind the screen and do the hard things. The creator of the world says we are fearfully and wonderfully made. Even if you can't stand the sight of yourself, or others for that matter, just think about that. The same God that formed the mountains and gave light to the stars also made you and says you, says they, are wonderfully made. Look up, take a deep breath, and spread your wings!
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