Monthly Archives: July 2012
…my heart is open, and I’ve been hoping
To find what it is everybody keep on talking ’bout
What’s it like to be in love? That’s all [I’m] thinking of
And I was just wondering, will love ever know me?
…my heart is open, and I’ve been hoping
Somebody show me, what’s it like to be in love?” What’s it Like – Jagged Edge
Malachi 3:6-12 MSG/NET
“I am God—yes, I Am. I haven’t changed. And because I haven’t changed and do not go back on my promises, you, the descendants of Jacob, haven’t been destroyed. You have a long history of ignoring my commands. You haven’t done a thing I’ve told you. Return to me so I can return to you,” says God-of-the-Angel-Armies, the Lord who rules over all.
“You ask, ‘But how do we return?’
“Begin by being honest. Do people rob God? But you rob me day after day.
“You ask, ‘How have we robbed you?’
“The tithe and the offering—that’s how! And now you’re under a curse —the whole lot of you—because you’re robbing me. You are bound for judgment because you are robbing me – this whole nation is guilty. Bring your full and entire tithe to the storehouse so there will be ample provisions in my Temple. Test me in this and see if I don’t open up heaven itself to you and pour out blessings beyond your wildest dreams…until there is no room for it all. For my part, I will defend you against marauders and pillagers, protect your wheat fields and vegetable gardens against plunderers.” says the Lord who rules over all.
“All nations will call you happy, for you indeed will live in a delightful land. You’ll experience what it’s like to be a country of grace.” the Lord who rules over all says so.
Ok…let’s go back…way back…back into time!!
As I walked through this week, he ain’t lie. I realized just how many LITTLE things I do to “shop” meaninglessly. Without thinking about it I’ll go to Rite Aid (where I don’t have the lil club card) and buy a Gatorade at full price just because it’s near the train. I’ll go to the dollar store and before I know it, I’ve spent $5 unnecessary dollars. The most expensive thing to get at the supermarket IS the meat, and even though I love my vegetables, all of a sudden I’ve really had a taste for a steak — and I get it only because I know I can. Cause if I was spending my “own money”, I wouldn’t be running to the store looking for a strip more than once a month.
“I’ve been home for a while now, trying to make sense of it all. What I do know….I don’t belong here.” ‘Tommy Yates’, Home of the Brave, 2006
I don’t know how old I was when I was first molested. I honestly can’t remember. All I know is that I wasn’t in double digits yet. I hadn’t even been able to become a teenager and be weirded out about my body and what it was doing naturally.
I don’t want or desire to get into the who because some of them I don’t clearly remember either. Yes, some of them. Because there were multiple repeat offenders. I know though, that the boys/men who did it know who they are. The ones who wouldn’t allow me to sleep at night. They know. The ones who told me that if I told I’D get in trouble. They know. What’s ironic to me is that now, the ones I know of all have families. Children. Boys and girls. Wives and girlfriends. Though I’m not around them to see, I’d like to know how they relate to those people. Those people that could be taken advantage of and told to be quiet. Those ones who could be scarred internally and only be able to keep going. I wonder what would happen if one of their innocents got their innocence taken from them in the dark.
*sigh* I’m not going down that road again. That’s the spiral that keeps me angry. I don’t belong here. Trapped behind this wall of what happened.
This is not where I was meant to reside (even though my tent has been pretty securely latched down for a while now).
“Every writer I know has trouble writing.” Joseph Heller
As I was sitting here staring at the wordpress app, debating whether to close the window (again) or click ‘new post’, I noticed that quote. Timely.
I wasn’t going to write again. Definitely not now…probably not any time soon. I dare not say ‘never’ because I know for sure that wasn’t going to happen if my Abba had anything to do with it.
My trouble isn’t with writing, it’s with what I have to write. But I know that I have to, simply because I don’t want to.
I’m on a final journey of healing. Healing from being molested. Healing from every crooked decision I’ve made because of it. Healing from never trusting in anything or anyone, including and most of all God. *and before you get your face all twisted, you must understand that BELIEVING and TRUSTING are two very different garanimals.
Up to now, I’ve chatted with God about deliverance and healing and His answer to me was always “my grace is sufficient”. He pissed me off with that cause I never really understood it – at least not until now. I was never ready. I never knew how desperately I needed to deal with having been robbed and cheated of my self-worth, my dignity, my ability to choose, and my freedom. But even more, He knew even better than I did. So His grace has allowed me to make those retarded decisions and suffer minimally (considering the alternatives). But now, because of his Love, in addition to his grace, he is adding his complete and total healing.
It’s only taken 38 years, 8 months, and 16 days.
I really luv this guy….! Praise God.