I’m a little terrified. How about you? Launching into this new endeavor—to create a space that brings together a community of women is overwhelming and humbling but liberating too. Bringing into the open what almost destroyed so many of us. Fighters, who may hold on to sanity by the width of a whisper, yet fight again, again, again. Battered, bruised, yet standing amidst the chaos created by the trauma of childhood sexual abuse.
May each rapid beat of my heart, shallow intake of air, uncertainty that I am equipped, be a testimony to my need for you as much as you may need this sisterhood—may need me. To my need for Jesus to fill in the gap for you and for me too. He will fight for me. He will fight for you. We need only be still. (Exodus 14:14). Be still. Be still? Rest in His willingness to take up our cause? We survivors of demolished childhoods who run, hide, freeze, fight. Trust Him to come to our aid?
The battle to trust made greater by the constant drumming of trauma’s voice. The one screaming shame, guilt, unworthy, straight into our down-turned faces. The push and pull between acceptance of Jesus’ offer and distrust of everyone, most of all ourselves. Yeah, I know it well. For many years I trusted no one. Betrayed by the ones entrusted with our care—mothers, fathers, grandfathers, grandmothers, and brothers, how can we find a way back from there?
The way back to trust is a journey— a proving over time that one will show up. Stand in the gap. Bridge the chasm. Brokenness, pain on one side—freedom, healing, hope on the other. May this community be a place where trust is re-built, hope restored and healing realized. I’ll stand in the gap for you. Maybe someday you’ll stand there for someone else too. Full transparency? I will fail you—not on purpose and not for lack of empathy but because I am human too. Jesus will never fail you. He’s never failed me. Though I’ve railed against his plans, questioned his motives, called Him a liar—straight to his face, he always shows up. No matter how many times I push him away, he waits for my fury, my fear to bring me once again to my knees. And in my fragility, my brokenness, he holds me close, raises me up, squares my shoulders, whispers in my ear, “You, my warrior woman, are worthy of love, born in my image—perfect in my sight, on the path to freedom from past hurts and choices. Let’s get back in the fight.”
“You, my warrior woman, are worthy of love, born in my image—perfect in my sight, on the path to freedom from past hurts and choices. Let’s get back in the fight.”
I hope you will join me as we learn how to trust again, how to move forward in healthy ways and how to secure permanent healing from the effects of our childhood sexual trauma.
Standing by your side,
Sharon
