These ”Tough” Bikers Make A Huge Difference For Abused Children
I am noticing people of late, those that are in love.
The way love works for them, the give and take of it.
I find that I am learning it isn’t what I was taught.
It is a give and not take.
Yes, there is the getting, but it comes in giving, not demanding or grabbing with expectation.
It is more of a glowing.
I like what I am seeing and learning.
I notice the gentle leaning in to experience the others space.
Full attention given to the other, because they want to truly hear what is said,k share in the excitement and enthusiasm of the words.
There is a body language here of communicating and concern, of care and true devotion.
Smiles shared, tears caught, linking happening.
I like what I am finding.
Yes, I cry about it, I drip drops of, “What would it be like if that were mine?”
But they are cleansing tears, emptying kind.
Ones that wash out the memories so I am empty of past for God to fill with present.
Perhaps someday I will find this, someone to hold as precious to me. Who will see me as such too.
I have my Lord to love me like this, I am so in love with Him. I know He understands my desiring a person as well, while also knowing He is my enough.
I never really had love as it was meant to be. Mine was using and discarding, taking with no return. But that was then and is no more.
I chose to see now, to marvel at the love that surrounds me. To embrace friendship, family ebb and flow, to give love as it was designed.
Love finds its way around, it is a circle of life…
I am in that circle now…
here to stay.
I remember when I doubted myself, when I thought there is no way the abuse happened to me. Perhaps I remember wrong or the feelings are causing me to over react. It couldn’t have been all that bad, I am still here after all. I would say to my first counselor, “Why do you believe me?”
Looking back I realize now how much I was living my past. My reactions to things that others took as normal were always so on edge or set me to panicking. I had triggers everywhere it seemed. One doesn’t get that way without reason.
So, i would face those triggers once i recognized them, head on. I would slowly build my ability to do things i couldn’t by pushing myself. Wear a scarf around my next totally loose til eventually I could tie it, finally have it close to my neck. Wear it for it’s purpose without thinking and feeling and remembering the abuse.
Long road this is, still fighting the battle is some areas. Healing is that way, a process, one that may never be done this side of eternity. Such is the molding and healing of our Lord, all good, all to His glory, all in His perfect timing.
The last few days I have been finding myself on a new path of healing. My mind being opened to perceiving things differently, with more of a focus on the truth of my past.
I often feel, yes, I lived it. I don’t doubt that anymore but I think I am unaware at times what I lived. The true depth of it, the truth of my existence, the substance of it.
You see, some one has made a few comments that have given me pause. Mentioned how I how much I have suffered, used the word brutal to describe my childhood.
When they said this it got me to thinking, wondering what does that word actually mean, especially in relation to me. I didn’t like what I found.
I looked at each of these words and thought, “Does this fit, Lord?” He to prompt me to say this out loud, “My childhood was savage, my childhood was cruel and vicious, etc.”
I said them, all the way through, crying. Gentle tears of accepting the truth that it was. I asked Papa why I needed to admit this to myself? Why can’t I just say it was hard and uncomfortable?
He answered me, as He always does.
It’s simple really, not the process, but the reason. How can I say I have given all my pain and suffering to my Lord if I don’t claim it to yield it.? I can’t. Just as the path to Calvary is seen in all it’s pain and suffering that we truly understand so must my abuse be for me.
So I have been sitting with the emotions these words awake. Sitting with god and yielding them to Him. In the process I am finding my gratitude to Him is swelling as well. His powerful touch of healing on me and in my life even greater than I fathomed.
My childhood was brutal,
Yet, so was my Lord’s crucifixtion..
look at How God uses that!
2016 found us last evening.
I spent mine home, alone.
Away from partying and celebrating, no other person around.
No televised broadcasts of dropping this or that, no cheering or reveling.
I quietly saw it pass and loved doing so.
Reveled in the contentment I experienced in being by meself.
This is a bit of a miracle for me, a sure sign of healing.
Holidays always are a challenge, in one form or another. Some to be triggers to abuse gone by or remind me of how alone I was. Oft I would find jealousy knocking much as Scrooge did watching Tiny Tim’s family through the window.
New Years Eve saw me not even giving this a thought beyond to be thankful to my Lord that He has healed me so much that it is natural to live in thankfulness, to see the beauty of what is now as it literally obliverates then from my heart.
I enjoyed a quiet night home, doing things i find relaxing and bringing in the New Year just the right way for me.
New Years Eve alone, a precious, cherished memory.
New Years Eve alone, that I experience contentment with self, celebrate the joy of life in Christ and come to understand that I do belong, I am loved and I am someone too.
This is an article I came across that is so full of truth for healing. How oft I went to my church in the wee hours of the morning to pray, throw myself upon the altar, before my Lord. Oft to simply weep in the beginning, for I could do no more. There were no words for the horrors awakening within my memory. No sense to the flashbacks hounding me, nothing I felt I could do to help myself.
That was the key, I had to realize, that I couldn’t help myself. I needed my Savior, I needed to do more that plead with Him to take it away, to make me all alright.
My morning ritual to become more than my pleading as I faced the dark and pain of the abuse memories draped in prayer, reading the Word and journaling. Sharing with my pastor and friend, ones who I new I was safe with.
Almost every morning for three years found me here. And the road didn’t end there, the healing is still a work in progress. Still requires me to stay active, be involved in my progress. Stay true to me.
Such is all of life, really. Eating and sleeping, working and friendship, the day to day doings of existence.
Life is not passive, so why do we oft thank healing is?Because it is an uphill journey. But, remember once you reach the top the view is amazing.
I know, for I stand atop my Mountain of God’s healing even now.
Won’t you join me?