Aftermath

In the aftermath of a storm comes peace. Sometimes we are greeted with blue skies and sunshine, light breezes and clean, fresh air. Other times the aftermath is less peaceful as we view destruction all around us and hot, stifling air that makes it almost impossible to get a deep breath – almost as though breathing under water.

That’s how it is with me today. I am in the aftermath of a storm and around me I see all the years of destruction this storm wrought in my life. My breathing is shallow and the ache in my heart is real and very deep. This wound is deep and the infection within it was massive. Now, with the scab ripped off the infection is oozing out and I am on the bench, trying to remain calm as the depth of the infection and the stench of the wound make me weak and ill.

As I sat with Father this morning He led me to verses about anger and wooed me with words of love and healing. He wants me to acknowledge the anger – give myself permission to be angry. He wants me to rage and scream and let it all out so that the infection will be washed away but I am too weak and still too much in shock from what has been revealed. I am still surveying the damage all around. The realization that my own wounds caused me to make choices that inflicted the SAME WOUNDS on my children has left me in an almost vegetative state. I cannot change my past but I can confront it and be free from it. BUT HOW DO I HELP MY CHILDREN? I cannot change THEIR past AND I CANNOT CONFRONT IT FOR THEM SO THAT THEY CAN BE FREE!!   O God, help my babies!

Anger. There is so much anger. How could he? We are his children and supposed to be protected by him, not terrorized and abused by him! How could he?

But then I know the answer to the question. He abused because he was abused. He hurt us because he was hurt. He suffered not only the trauma of an abusive childhood but also the trauma of being in the trenches during WWII – at Normandy, on the road to Paris, and into Berlin.

My heart of compassion only hurts for him. I cannot release the anger yet because I am still making excuses for him. I am still giving him the benefit of the doubt and offering forgiveness when none has been requested. I am offering unconditional love in return for betrayal and abuse, terror and neglect. I am still a very sick little puppy.

This is so hard. The tears come unbidden without provocation, it seems. I try to stifle them because it won’t do to cry in public without reason. My pain is real and the hurt so bad I can hardly lift my arms. I am mourning for an entire lifetime lost to abuse.

Today I have been in contact with my sisters but no response yet. Today I have stripped off the mask – no longer willing to be a silent partner to the abuse of our shared past. Perhaps they are still in hiding. Perhaps they are still in denial. It doesn’t matter – I am giving them an open door to be free and I pray they will take it.

Even as I write this I feel the ache in my heart lessening. The truth will, indeed, set you free.

John 8:32  And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.

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