God is the finisher of my story

Secrets are like poison to the soul. Just as poison spreads throughout a body so does secrets spread throughout all parts of your life. However, unlike poison which could take minutes or hours to spread secrets can take years and years. It is a false sense of security to think they are hidden from the world, safe from being discovered. Secrets are actually begging to be exposed.

There once was a little girl with long blonde hair and a bright smile. At the tender age of five her world became the devil’s playground. Her mother became involved with a man and brought him into her home. It wasn’t long before the little girl, along with her little sister, became the target of her mom’s and his evil intentions.

The spankings came first. The welts were bloodied and swollen like ropes across her buttocks and thighs. As she grew she learned to bite down hard into the pillows to keep from crying out or screaming because those sounds enraged him even more and he would hit longer and harder.

By the age of seven, while sleeping, the little girl was abruptly taken from her bed and brought into her parent’s room. Fear and hope warring in her mind. Fear of another spanking, hope for something she could not name. There was no spanking given that night. On this night the little girl was made to watch her mom and the man have sex.

Eight years later the little girl is long gone. She can’t remember ever being a little girl. Her mind is filled with images she can’t get rid of. Her flesh is a constant reminder of what she was forced to do. Each day’s cruelties ripped and shredded her heart into pieces. She had no dreams because she didn’t sleep. She had no hope because those that were supposed to protect her were the ones that were causing all her pain. One day she tried to end the pain. She took a full bottle of aspirin and went to bed. She wasn’t thinking of dying she just wanted to stop hurting. She was rewarded by a trip to the hospital and having her stomach pumped. She was 15.

Something changed in her after that. She could feel it growing stronger. She spent less and less time at home. One day the man made her come home early from a school swim meet claiming there was an emergency. The emergency was he wanted her to cook him a meal. She expressed her outrage and he punched her in the face saying “I own you.” For the first time her eyes stared back hard, unwavering, challenging him to go the distance.

The final confrontation came when she was 16. Tired and exhausted after a long swim practice she lay sleeping in her bed. She felt his presence standing over her. She could feel the air moving as he undressed. She waited until he was undressed and suddenly bolted up from the bed to stand before him. 10 years of his cruelty had taken away her hopes and dreams. One of them was going to die before he laid one hand on her ever again. At that moment she didn’t care who. Her voice strong and loud she cried, “You vile piece of scum! Just try to touch me and I will kill you! I have nothing more to lose. You have taken everything from me. The only way you will ever touch me again is over my dead body.” She watched as he lowered his head. She waited, almost hoping he would try so she could inflict as much pain on him as he had on her. Instead he got dressed and sat on the bed holding his head in his hands. She ran out of her room and out of her house and never returned.

This shouldn’t happen to anyone ever, but it does. It happened to me.

Even before I gave my heart to Jesus, God worked in my life to heal the wounds that were cut so deep. The first thing he did was give me a man who has the patience of a rock and an unwavering, unconditional love. That man is my husband. (And before you think that no human can do that this is to testify that a human can.)

In 1993, I gave my life to Jesus. I learned about forgiveness and forgave my step-dad and my mother. My step-father had entered the Betty Ford Center back when I was 16 and had been sober ever since. He also found forgiveness through giving his life to Jesus. My mother, however, took another road by becoming a wiccan. When I told her that I forgave her, she said “It’s no big deal.”

Each time I thought God was done there was more that was uncovered. Each time I thought it couldn’t hurt worse, the pain was excruciating. In 1998 I spent a year in that pain while God went deeper, taking out more junk and replacing it with his love and truth. I felt like I had finally reached a place of wholeness.

Little did I know that God was not yet finished.

Experiencing disunity in our marriage, I went to the Real Life Marriage conference with the hope that Dh would hear and finally understand what he should be doing and basically what I could do to help him. I never expected that I would be the one to have open heart surgery---again!

Almost immediately the pain was there as if it had never gone away. I cried so hard at times I physically shook. God was showing me something and I didn’t want to see it. I just wanted to stop hurting. During a talk with S he asked, “Have you given D your heart?” I paused and had to think. Did I? I married him, doesn’t that mean I gave him my heart? I looked at S and said, “I don’t think so.”

The next day it all came to a head as God showed me my fear of intimacy. Sex was one thing. Being gentle and kind was completely different. When Dh would touch me in a gentle way it would literally cause me physical pain. Like being burned. Because of this, I did not enter our encounters feeling loving. It was more of having power over someone else. I couldn’t give myself to him unless it felt like he was taking from me. Oh how I cried and cried and cried. The hurting just wouldn’t end. “Help me Please God Help me” was all I could say. It was like there were two sides of me warring together. One side was feeling hurt, pain, and angry feeding off the ugly words parading through my mind and the other side has a death grip hold on Jesus, wanting so much to feel love without pain.

I believe in God. I believe in Jesus. I believe in the Word. I believe God is sovereign, all-powerful. Did I truly believe in His mercy and grace? After the conference I can say, as real as I can, I’m beginning to.

I may not fully understand God’s mercy and grace in my life but what I do know is through His Son he reached out to me and pulled me out of the darkness. He gave me a husband who beyond my understanding has endured with me this journey that is my life. He gave me 3 healthy, beautiful daughters who have shown me what it means to be a child. They have shown me how to love, how to laugh, how to be humble.

Satan wants my story to end before it's finished because each time I overcome God gets the glory. I can think of no better way to defeat the enemy than to tell him again and again, NO MORE.

NO MORE will the abuse go on.
NO MORE will I carry on the abuse.
NO MORE will I keep my heart from my Dh.
NO MORE will I keep my heart from Jesus.

NO MORE, NO MORE, NO MORE