And it came to pass...

     This post comes at a great cost to me... I seldom reveal so much of myself in my writing, but I need to say this. I'm a very analytical person - very measured. I measure twice and cut once. I know the consequences long before I perform an action and most of the time go ahead anyway. But it's much more difficult to charge ahead with only faith to guide me. And when I say that this comes at a cost, I only mean that I'll be divulging very private feelings; Which for most of us, is quite taxing. We pay a toll when revealing what's real.
     I've made it no secret, my struggles with the years of torment dealing with the aftermath of a rape. And in addition to that incident, I've undergone other sexual attacks - none quite so severe, but none-the-less damaging. But I discovered something recently and I feel compelled to share it. Not just for my sake, but for the sake of anyone else struggling to overcome. I believe we all have a sore spot. A subject or topic that makes us cringe, that draws out our defenses and makes our pulses race and nostrils flare. For some it's sexual, for others it's race. For one it might be health, and for another, abandonment or bullying. But for all it is a wound. A hurt that never quite goes away. A pain that keeps us held hostage in a chamber of want. A wanting to let go, but never quite knowing how... A comfortable, torturous hurt that we're afraid of living without.
      A couple of weeks ago, I was on a long drive home from work. I had 3.5 hours of lonely night drive time and my mind got the better of me. One thought led to another and before I knew it I was engulfed in remembrance of the rape. And worst of all - what came after. The aftermath I believe was worse than the act itself. Knowing that his friends knew. Seeing them in public places, being followed, nearly run over, harassed, tormented. Knowing that I was a point, a notch, a conquest, made it that much more horrifying. And worse, some of the VERY few friends I told didn't believe me. The ultimate betrayal came at the hands of my once "best friend". (Because I've moved on, I won't divulge more of those circumstances.) My mind was snared in a dark circle of pain. I felt a fear like I hadn't known in years! I was terrified and completely alone. I called my best friend. I called my husband. I tried to talk about it but again was awash with shame and fear. After 17 years, can't you just get over it already?!?! (My thoughts, NOT theirs!) I tried to talk about what I was feeling but kept hearing myself smooth it over. I wanted it to go away... It didn't. Eventually I became so frightened that I had no choice but to become angry. There was a power in my anger. It fueled my ability to ask God the un-askable questions. The questions that for years, I logically knew the answer to, but was too chicken-shit to ask. I was afraid that God would tell me something I didn't want to hear. I put off facing a demon for fear that I wouldn't like the answer. But finally the time had come. I was so frightened, so frustrated that I had no choice but to ask... "Why did you make us Lord? Why did you create women? Was it to abuse, to hurt, to rape, to victimize at leisure? Are we here to "serve" and "obey"? Am I here only to live in fear? Am I weaker than men because they should hurt me?" I asked these long-standing questions aloud. I proclaimed them. I waited - baited. And if you've ever received an answer from your creator you will understand me when I say that the answer came with such calm and clarity that I had no choice but to immediately settle down. I was calmed... soothed. I was delivered. He said to me, "Nothing you have suffered is new to me. None of your experiences speaks of you. It speaks of them. It is the sin of the individual, the wickedness that lives in them, not you. It is not your sin to repent. It isn't your shame to bare. You are not weak. You are mine."  I can NOT explain the release I felt. I was let go - freed from the prison of despair I'd lived in for nearly two decades. I drove another hour to my home and told no one, not even my husband.
      Last week I was driving to the home of a client and couldn't find my way. Neither my mobile nor car GPS would lead me there. I gave up and four hours later, after seeing other clients, I found my way. I fumbled through mapquest and county land record directions. I drove dirt road upon dirt road until I arrived at the home of a 78 year old black woman. Earlier that morning, on my long drive to Southwest Georgia, I felt compelled to ask God for something else. I asked for esteem. I wanted to know when I should gain some. After living in the prison for "victims" for so, so long, I had no idea how to not be one - a victim that is. You see, once you've been attacked, you assume the defensive position - the sore spot. You don't mean to, but you retreat and you regret and your shame becomes a home, a haven. You go there in an effort to defend against the enemy, who in your mind can be anyone; Even those you love and claim that you trust. And so with my newly found freedom, I wanted to know when I might expect a healthy dose of self esteem? At the time I thought my question was reasonable. The opposite entirely...
      You see, I found that esteem is only discovered in gratitude. Despair is a form of narcissism. To despair is to turn your back on God's gifts. To lack in self love is a proclamation that what you have been given is not enough. I will never wear white and not spill on it. I will never read directions once and understand them. I won't buy a plant and not kill it. I won't sing and not have others regret it ;) But I will listen and make a friend. I will talk and be truly heard. I will write and convert. I will love and be loved. I will be grateful and find peace. And after the long, long mis-labeled dirt roads led me to this lady's home, I arrived at an answer, her doorstep. Almost immediately, this soulful and gracious woman said to me that I was in the right place, that I was so good at what I did, I shouldn't doubt where I was placed. She knew I was there for a reason. I've always believed that my simple job was more than a way to earn a living. I believe it's a call to answer prayers - be they mine or a stranger's. I left her home afloat. I had been there four hours late, at just the right time. She knew to confirm my whereabouts, and I knew to accept her wisdom. She told me that I was where God had intended for me to be. And so did I... It was more than chance. It was an aswer to the longest prayer of my life. I had been looking for a way out of the "sore spot". I had wandered around for years, looking for an out. I wanted to be set free. And all this time, the answer was simply waiting on me.
      The point of my revealing this is not to convert a non believer, or to win you over with promises of release. I'm sharing this story to let you know that whatever your struggle, ask the question! Don't let it go on... Relinquish yourself of blame. Live outside of pain. Receive your answer, because it's waiting. There is nothing you can't ask. Live in gratitude... We can all be free, regardless of our prison.