FORGIVENESS

Epilogue

“But now, thus says the LORD, who created you, Jacob, and formed you, Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name: you are mine.”

Isaiah 43:1

As a survivor of abuse, I've learned the forgiveness I give is for me and not necessarily for the person or persons who have harmed me. Forgiving is an act of letting go of the control the person or act the person has afflicted and giving it to God, placing it in his hands and trusting he will take care of the person or persons as he deems suitable.

Sounds good in theory but it isn't easy. I spent years in therapy in the beginning of my marriage to find a place to forgive the men who raped me and to forgive my grandfather for what he'd done to my mother and my sister. It took longer to work on the forgiveness of my grandfather and grandmother (because she knew the abuse was taking place and didn't do anything to stop it.)

Once I'd come to a place of complete transformation with God, I knew holding onto anger and resentment poisoned me and not them. With pity in my heart, for I knew well that evil would reside in them if they didn't personally come to their own spiritual transformation, I placed them in God's hands.

What helped to heal was helping others, to have a voice and lead other survivors to find their voices.

But I was incomplete. As God led me into youth ministry and later into speaking, I found I felt more insecure with each accomplishment. I'm not good enough. My thoughts taunted me when I prepared for programs, retreats, and conferences. I'd journal and pray to understand what was hidden so deep inside I couldn't quite overcome.

Others, who were older, wiser, and spiritually led, gave me encouraging notes, and made references to how obvious it was I needed to go deeper spiritually. Something kept me at the surface and I needed to allow myself to sink below the depths of comfort to recognize what itwas in order to overcome the insecurity.

In writing this book with Neal, I still struggled with the underlying nagging feeling there was a piece missing in my life that would make some of my behaviors make sense. I knew the rapes accounted for a lot of what I dealt with sexually but there were other behaviors that didn't add up to what I'd gone through. In writing EXPOSED I had the same nagging feeling but quickly attributed it to what I'd endured as a child consuming my sister’s behaviors.

I didn't want to dwell further into that dynamic of our family at the time so I let it be addressed, acknowledged, and swept away because it was their story, not mine. Until I came to write in this book about the counseling I received to embrace forgiveness. At the time the logical need was to learn to forgive myself. Much was accomplished at the time but even still, now eight years later, the underlying nagging feeling remained. I'm not good enough.

This is hard to admit when I speak to thousands on their self-worth, self-respect, and dignity. I believe God. I trust God. I know his love and there is purpose planned for my life. But still I felt unworthy.

As I wrote about the time I was hypnotized and went to the young girl within me, who needed me the most, I remembered going to a very young self, three or four years old. Much younger than at the age I’d been when I experienced anything tragic or witnessed my sister in her own demise.

Why had I not gone to a teenage version of me? But I put the thought away. When I wrote this memory it was like taking a key and unlocking a treasure chest that had been lost in the depths of the sea for thousands of years. Once opened and the contents were revealed they poured out and overflowed as if the chest were so old and brittle it disintegrated and could no longer hold its contents.

The sounds, smells, flashes of memories, comments, words, and worse, the feelings poured over me and fit like the last missing puzzle piece.

I was complete.
I, too, was molested by my grandfather.

The pain erupted deep and searing. I could not stand to keep it in. In the sanctity of my home I wailed and wept. It makes sense. It all makes sense. I rejoiced in the pain because I finally made sense. I had flirted with the knowledge this was my truth as well but something always held me back from accepting I’d suffered the same abuse as my mother and sister.

Timing is everything, and I do believe when my spirit was ready God brought me to it because he knew I'd go through this with Him.

This truth helped me to understand some of my actions as a teenager that led me into situations that weren't smart or safe. I understood why I often had things done to me, and yet I felt as if I were the one at fault.

When radio interviewers asked, "Didn't you have a good relationship with your father?" I'd be bothered by the question because I love my father and have a good relationship with him.I couldn't rationalize why I was desperate to feel love and sought love in situations that were clearly harmful.

I matter. All I ever wanted to feel is that I mattered. Everything I fought for, everything Neal and I argued over, and all I reacted and responded to, it all came down to the little girl within me trying to say, "I matter!"

What my grandfather did to me does not define me. However, the knowledge of what was done helps to work on redirecting my thoughts and to finally accept I am good enough and believe it as much as I believe in God.

My grandfather passed away four months after my memories came back. I didn't have the opportunity to confront him, but in the end I knew I wouldn’t have received the response I felt I deserved. It was best to put my grandfather in God's hands. But I needed closure.

I feel righteous anger, pain, and betrayal. I couldn’t understand why but I needed to take the journey to be at his memorial service. Not to celebrate his life but to give a voice to the little girl inside of me who needed to be heard.

His four sons stood before the handful of church friends and fellow veterans telling stories of their childhood together. I sat in the back and kept to myself recognizing the difficulty of the task my uncles had in reconciling the monster I knew with the father who taught them the importance of loop traveling to see the most on a journey and how to take care of their lawns.

At the end of the day I came face to face with his picture, alone in the chapel while everyone else was with his ashes giving him a military salute.

"You hurt me." I stood stoic, the little girl came forward shedding the tears.

"What you did scarred me and warped my security." The teenage girl emerged outraged at the innocence he stole.

"I was too afraid to love, to get close, or to feel." I stood before his picture as a wife and mother and wept.

As angry as I was I turned and walked away and gave myself the gift of letting go.

God is in control in the matter of his soul.

The forgiveness is for me and right now I am still on my journey of learning to love the way God calls us to. I believe every person, no matter what evil he or she has done in life, is a child of God and deserves the same redemption as me.

What I am thankful for in surviving this journey is God took the gifts He's given me from the moment of conception along with the strength and courage I’ve received from the trials to bring forth healing to all those who’ve been through similar pain.

God is relentless in finding a way to get us where we need to be. The journey of my life has clearly headed in the direction of helping others. The most recent endeavor is founding Hopeful Hearts Ministry, a 501 C3 non-profit, dedicated to restoring the lives of those abused and giving them a voice.

I thank God for my life. All of it. And I thank Him for giving me a husband who was willing to give his life over to God and receive his redemption in full in order to lead me closer to him. This is what forgiveness can bring, an appreciation of life and the freedom to embrace redemption.

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