I do not write a lot of fiction these days. In fact, the last fictional short story I wrote was for Dr. Tony Cartledge's Ministry of Writing class several years ago. It
is not that I do not still love to write stories, but simply that I do not
often find time and opportunity to craft a good fictional story. I want
everything I write to convey important message and meaning for people. The
following story is a fictional account, but it is one that, given the number of
victims of sexual and physical abuse, could have been played out very
similarly in many lives. If you have been touched by abuse in some way, I hope
the words of this story are healing to you. Even if you have not been effected
personally, I hope that you can learn something from this story. Trigger
Warning: Sexual and Physical abuse are discussed in this post.
"You didn't do
anything wrong."
The words were
almost painful to hear because of their truth. It was even harder to believe.
They were as precise as a surgeon's scalpel, penetrating through years of
hurtful and abusive words and actions. They were words that, as she would allow
herself to dwell in them would allow for healing.
Only one other time
had words penetrated so deeply and so accurately into Carlie's painful past. It
was in the arms of her husband one night that he uttered the words, "You
are loved." Though she knew that Philip had spoken, she felt as though
the words came from God directly. It was the first time she ever felt truly
loved, truly worthy of love.
Though these words
were spoken to a grown woman, married with children of her own, she did not
hear them that way. She heard them as a little girl, abused and neglected. The
memory that stood out most was when she was nine years old. She told her
parents what had happened only to be met by a silent, disapproving glare from
her mother. Later she listened as her parents fought over her. Clearly her
father believed her, but her mother refused to. She heard her mother call her
names that she could not reveal to anyone, or even repeat in her journal.
Nevertheless, she did believe the things her mother said. Mothers are supposed
to be right after all, and they are supposed to be believed. "I must have
done something wrong," she wrote in her journal the next morning after the
yelling had stopped. "I brought this on myself and and I really am the
whore my mother told my father I am."
Carlie was nine
years old on the night she wrote that journal entry, but the abuse began long
before that. She was abused sexually by her uncle, physically by her mother,
and emotionally by her mother, grandmother, and even her older brothers on
occasion who were constantly critical of everything from her appearance to the
way she walked and talked. The years of abuse had damaged her self worth, and
her ability to feel loved.
When Carlie became a
Christian as a young teenager, she thought she had found a way out of the
criticism and abuse. The promise of "all things becoming new" meant
that she had a chance of escaping the labels that had been put on her. For
awhile it helped a little for her to feel better about herself. Eventually she
even enrolled in a Christian college where she caught the attention of Phillip,
a young man studying to be a pastor. The two were engaged within a year.
When they returned
home to share the news, the nightmare began again. Her mother found her alone
and began her attack. "What makes you think you're good enough to be a
pastor's wife? You are too selfish and spoiled. You'll never be good
enough."
Those words would
haunt Carlie. They opened the door and brought back all the insecurities and
pain from childhood. The physical abuse from her mother and the sexual abuse
from her uncle all came flooding back, as did the feelings that it was her
fault because of the words which served to constantly tear her down. Words
hurt. They can tear into the heart and mind of a person like a machine gun
carelessly fired into a crowded room, and they are much more difficult to
remove than a stray bullet. They stay lodged in, slowly and steadily leaking
their poison into the soul.
Words can also be
the antidote, but only when the poisonous words are quieted enough to hear the
healing ones. "You are loved," penetrated into the soul of a little
girl who felt unlovable. "You didn't do anything wrong," spoke
directly to a five year old who could not say "no" to an uncle who
was much bigger and stronger than her, and to the eight year old who was
slapped around and called names by her mother.
Words have power to
wound and to heal. Sometimes we use too many words, and they lose their power. My hope is that this story
reminds us all that we are responsible for what comes out of our mouths. We
never know what another person has endured. The Bible tells us that, "Out
of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks." I hope that my mouth
overflows with words of healing, restoration, and peace today.
