My friend Susan Starrett wrote this slam poetry about sexual abuse of young hockey players. Read it, be healed, pass it on….
Let a child know they are not alone. Someone listens and cares…
My friend Susan Starrett wrote this slam poetry about sexual abuse of young hockey players. Read it, be healed, pass it on….
Let a child know they are not alone. Someone listens and cares…
Here is a sample from my new book–Meeting Myself, snippets from a binging and bulging mind…..soon to be on the shelves
Luke 6:27, 33– But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. And if you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Even ‘sinners’do that. (NIV)
When I read verses like this, I knew that God expected me to forgive my (now dead) abuser. And I did. But when He told me to go to the cemetery, lay hands and flowers on the tombstone to complete the job, I balked. Some 25 years passed. Circumstances placed me in that graveyard and God spoke the same words to me again.
Body trembling, I forced myself toward the memorial stone. Aloud, I prayed forgiveness for him and healing for me. “God,”I said, “I am sorry. I don’t have any flowers.”I turned to walk away and found two silk flowers lying on the path I had just entered. “They’ll blow away, Lord,”I said, “but I’ll put them there anyway.”Then I noticed two small holes, equally spaced, at the stone’s base. I put the mauve flower in one. The mauve stood for mourning, for surely God mourned with me in the midst of sins committed against me. I put the white one in the other opening. White, for purity, because He had made my heart pure by wiping it clean of all bitterness.
Dear Ones, let us not postpone when God tells us to do something, for in that something lies our healing.
–and the heart and the emotions and the pain and the—–whatever. That’s what journaling is.
Sometimes I wonder if anyone will be able to read, let alone understand my thoughts as I wrote them. It doesn’t really matter, because those pages fulfil their original purpose. They help me remember where I was, the difference God has made in my life and the places He wants me to go.
When I read that journalling was a key to freedom from sexual abuse, I started writing immediately. My journals (about 35 now!) are the place where I tell the truth to myself and to God and in doing so, I find the real me. They walked me through painful abuse issues to healing and acceptance.
What about you? Tried everything but? Why not give pen and paper (or online journalling) a chance.
Brenda J. Wood
www.heartfeltdevotionals.wordpress.com
www.inscribe.org/brendawood