Today I Am Grateful for....

A husband I can grow with. We have both grown during this last 5 years and God is so in the midst.

The Word of God in my life.

Freedom in Christ.

When Daddy Found Out

When my step-brother had sex with me and beat me for the last time, I stayed away from my Dad's house for two years. I would not go over there anymore anymore. At this time I was about 6 or 7 and while the molestation stopped with my step-brother, it continued with a neighbor who would babysit me and told me that I was his secret girlfriend and we would play boyfriend/girlfriend games almost daily.

By this time that way of life was so ingrained in me that it was a normal occurance. In my little mind, it was a part of life; although it was not a very good part of my normal daily existence.

Anyway, my dad did not get why I stayed away. I always had an excuse. He was so hurt I could hear tears choking him sometimes. So he would come and get me during his lunch hour and take me to the race track (I loved to see the horses run...they seemed so free).

You see the last time was it for me because my step brother beat up something awful. After having his way with me, he put a frankenstein mask on me, told me I was ugly, and punched me in my face continuously until my lips were big, split, and blood was everywhere. I am not sure if my jaws were swollen, I just remember the pain.

I also remember feeling ugly and unloved.

He made me tell my dad and step-mom that I fell against the dresser. I don't think they believed me but they did not press the issue too much. They knew my step-brother was bad and needed help. They also knew he did not care for me, but again they never pressed the issue.

I went home and determined I would never return. I was terrified of my step-brother and confused. Why would someone who was supposed to love you hurt you so bad.

The guilt must have gotten to me step-sister because she finally told my dad. I am not sure how they felt about it after it happened, I just know my dad called, told me that he knew, and that I would not have to worry about my step-brother again.

My dad never told my mother. I think he was afraid she would keep me away from him or something worse. You see my mom is a fighter and as a woman who was abused by her first husband she would have been ready for a fight with whoever got in her way as she tried to ring my step-brother's lamp.

At 67 we still know that when her eyes get big and that leg gets to shaking...watch out!

I went over to my dad's house and I did not see my step-brother. He was not allowed there when I was over. I also never heard another word of it from anyone in the house. No holding me, no drying my tears, no counseling...nothing. I did not see until I the last year that my father really took a coward's way out.

I loved my daddy and even after 21 years I still miss him. However, I think that the first thing a parent should do is handle the issue head on. A spanking and a threat won't solve the problem. Daddy and my step-mother did nothing. I think I remember me step-sister telling me that I never had to worry again. Like I said, I can't remember half of my childhood...especially the good stuff.

I have to look at pictures to jog my memory.

The fact that Daddy did nothing only fueled my belief that it was ok, although it felt so wrong.

My step-brother and I did not make much contact. He was not allowed to be in the home while our parents were at work and by that time he was into gangs, drugs, and other things so he was seldom around the house anyway.

I guess you could say I was angry with daddy once I figured that he knew, but I did not realize this until some years later. My relationship with daddy was strong because I knew he loved me with all that was in him. However the fact that he did not do much angered me. I lost a little trust and never felt very comfortable at his house. Although being with my daddy was always fun. I was his "T" and he would not let my step-brother hurt me again.

He never asked me if it happened with anyone else. Like I said, he never said anything after our initial phone conversation.

I am still dealing with being angry at a dead man. I have forgiven him, but I am angry because he did not do more. There should have been more done...so much more.

It may have taken me down another road!

Today I am Grateful for....

My life!

In spite of it all, I am here. I am destined to be more than I ever dreamed and I am grateful that I have a chance to make a difference with my life.

I am grateful for all the small things because they say so much.

I am grateful for my sons who are my biggest encouragers. They help me to heal.

I am grateful for my Sister Circle, the ladies who give me a place to bleed, but keep me from bleeding to death.

I am grateful for the times I have cried and grown through the tears.

I am grateful that I am finally coming out of the pit and the Lord will set me on a rock to stay.

I am grateful

Coming Out of the Pit

Last night I attended a Pink Collar Club book of the month call. The book of the month is Beth Moore's Get Out of the Pit.

I have yet to read the book and kept saying I need to get it.

The call last night reminded me that I did not put myself into the pit, but that I was thrown into the pit. WOW! I did not put myself here.

However, at 38 it is time for me to get myself out of this pit. Why? Self-absorption!

Pits are often small, tight, dark, and lonely. No one else resides there but you. What happens when it is only you. Life becomes about you! Yep, I said it.

Let's get real and be honest with ourselves. My molestors did put me in the pit and as a child I had no way of getting out. I learned to be in my own world and make it all about me. I statyed in the "victim" mode.

What a shame!

Here I have the Word of God and a Daddy who loves on me everyday whether I accept it or not and yet I refuse to step out of myself and move beyond the junk of the past. Who am I to stay stuck in my past and allow it to suck up all the oxygen out of my life. Without oxygen you will die!

I was reminded last night that I don't need to stay stuck because I am more than a conqueror. God has been good to me and has created me fearfully and wonderfully! Who am I to tell Daddy that He is a liar. God never lies! He is who He says He is and He does what He says He will!

So I am climbing out of my pit and learning to speak the truth of God in my life.

I am more than a conqueror!

I am fearfully and wonderfully made!

I am the apple of God's eye!

I have been placed on rock to stand!

The Lord is my light and my salvation.....Whom shall I fear!

I was created with purpose! Designed for destiny!

Speak God's truth into your life today!

Never Knew Innocence (WARNING....Some Graphic Language)

When you are molested every ounce of your innocence is snatched away from you.

This past Sabbath afternoon I was in the living room having a family discussion as we do every Sabbath. Suddenly that thought came to me and I got up, went into my room, closed the door, and broke down in tears.

Then I started journaling.

As a child you don't realize that the innocence was stolen, but it is. Your life becomes filled with lies, manipulation, and stealing and it becomes a part of your life. Why?

You are taught to. Your molestors often tell you not to say anything. "It's our little secret", "Your mom or dad will be mad at you", " I will beat you up" and those are only a few ways they get you to lie.

As much as I hate to admit it, I did all those things well into my adulthood. What a shame that I lived the very lives of my molestors by lying, stealing and manipulation. It was as if their DNA had become a part of me.

Funny thing....the DNA was a part of me. You see everytime you have sex with someone or kiss them open mouth their DNA becomes a part of you.

Boy was that a revealing fact for me to accept as I came out of my promicuous stage later in life.

I remember as a little girl my step brother would tear my insides up and cum inside of me.

His DNA became a part of me.

This I remember well. I was about 4 or 5. Maybe younger. My mind has blocked so much.

When a man would kiss me and place his tongue in my little mouth...that DNA became a part of me.

When a woman would make me touch her in places no child should be forced to touch...that DNA became a part of me.

As much as I tried to get the stinch of the filth off me and pretend it never happened, it all became a part of me. The DNA of a depraved and evil group of people. In essence their filth became my filth at an age when innocence should have been such an integral part of my life.

No matter how much I tried to wash, the filth was still there.

It was with me for so long that after a while I could no longer smell the stinch. It was so much a part of me that lying, manipulation, and stealing became ingrained within my entire being. I learned it all from my predators.

I learned to be exactly what they were. It was the way Satan wanted it and because I had no place to bleed, that is what he got.

As I sat crying on this past Sabbath afternoon, my husband and three-year-old walked into the room. When my husband asked me what was wrong, I grabbed a hold of my baby and told my husband that I never want my children to lose his innocence. I want them to experience every facet as it is their right as children.

My right was taken away.

I never knew innocence. It was snatched away from me.

A Place to Bleed

"Everyone needs a place to bleed."
Marilyn Griffith

Today I have the privilege of interviewing Christian Fiction author Marilyn Griffith for one of my freelance assignments.

The quote I used above was so on time for me in my walk.

We do all need a place to bleed. Now just what does this mean?

Here is my take.

As children of God we tend to put on this air and make like all is well, when it is really not. We are like that because that is what is expected of us.

But what about when we hurt!

We are supposed to have a chance to seek out our brothers and sisters in Christ and be able to share our burdens with them. No matter it is were our sin or the sin of someone else, we should be able to share it.

As a child growing up I did not know who to share it with. I was threatened not to tell anyone. I was so in the mix that I just thought no one would even care. It taught me to clam up. One day my father looked at me and told me I was so bashful that it made me seem stupid. Now he meant no harm, I had a good Daddy. However, I was so shy and timid around older people or when I was asked about something it did make me appear a bit strange.

Daddy did not know why until later after he found out what was being done by my step-brother. He never knew about the others and I never brought myself to say a thing.

As I got older, I found it difficult to share with anyone. I had a built a wall that was made of the same steel Superman was and not even kryptonite could weaken it.

I bled alone!

I had a lot of friends and some of them knew I had been molested but I never let them see me fall. When I tried they would turn away from ignorance of just not understanding what is was I was going through.

Once I started going to church it was even worse because Christians can be so judgmental. I just did not share.

So I cried to God, but even He knew I needed someone else to share in my pain.

I was led to my mentor Nancy. Through the love of God flowing through her, the steel walls were weakened a bit. I started learning how to trust someone with my bleeding wounds. She never judged, never said I was at fault (people will wonder what you did when you say you have been molested numerous times), and she always bared my burdens as I would hers.

We shared so much together!

Today I have more women like myself to share this burden with. I have a few places where I can bleed.

As I heal for deliverance and liberty, I am reminded that I have a Sister circle that crossed the state lines, goes beyond the Mississippi and deeper than the Grand Canyon.

How grateful I am for my places to bleed.

Please if you are reading this and you don't allow others to bleed think about your why and ask God to help you to support another Sister.

Forgiveness is Just The Start

So many years are wasted on just forgiving and not progressing past that point. When someone does something to us we forgive and say we have moved on.

Have we really?

For me it started when I was in my twenties after accepting Christ in 1989 I started on a journey towards change in my life...proactive change. This led me to kneeling at the foot of my bed and forgiving every one of the five individuals who took away my innocence and led me on a road to pain, confusion, bitterness, and anger. I needed to forgive them in order to move on.

However, some 15 plus years later, I am still there at the foot of my bed. As a matter-of-fact, I am still in the bedrooms, closets, empty living rooms, and all the places I was molested. I left my little girl in the corner crying her eyes out not knowing who to trust. Unable to tell even my own mother who to this day still does not know. I am not sure if she ever will.

This stagnation in my life has caused me years of turmoil and unnecessary anguish. At 38 I am in a state of bewilderment because I thought I had moved beyond that point. I see now that I have not.

So it is time to pull up my sleeves, get down in the mud and work this stuff out. It won't be so bad this time though because I am doing it with God. I am in a process of being healed, so that my deliverance from this darkness will move into the light of liberty.

It is my prayer that my open book moments will be a testimony for more than just me. It is time for a change in the lives of all abused individuals. I pray that some woman, boy, or girl will read this memoir and be healed, delivered from darkness and moved into the light of liberty.