Honoring Truth

"I can be changed by what happens to me, but I refuse to be reduced by it." Maya Angelou

When I first saw her....I was drawn to the softness in her face....and to her smile. There was a warmth, a kindness, a gentleness about her. She had been admitted to the hospital after falling and breaking a hip. I knew she was from Poland. I asked if she had been through the war. 


Putting her head down, she let the tears fall and began to tell me the horrors she had lived. As I listened....I struggled to stay present. I found myself wanting to close my eyes and go away. She talked quickly, wanting to get it all out....she knew dates, places, times, names.....She wanted to be accurate...she wanted to say the truth. 

I asked her how she managed to live all those years with what had happened to her....She shook her head and cried unashamedly. I don't know. I think God let me live to tell....

I went home that night....detached...like I used to be....feeling separate from myself...that 84 year old woman's words echoing in my mind...I think God let me live to tell.....

When I got home...my friend called....two people her husband works with bought the book. Two other people ordered it online. And a bookstore in the city next to where I live asked me to bring some books to place on their shelves. 

Writing this...I feel sad...I don't know why. Maybe sad for that woman...that  survivor who knew at 84 God let her live to tell her story....Maybe because in some way that lady gave me a message today...a message to be strong...a message to tell the truth of what happened...to not be afraid....It wasn't my fault...and what happened doesn't define who I am today. 

And maybe by telling my truth....I can show there is a way out of darkness...a way out of hopelessness. I think of friends who died...who took their own lives or died by accident because of the damage they had done to their bodies...and I think of the many times I tempted death......Yet He let me live - Maybe He let me live to tell. 

There is still a part of me that thinks what happened defines who I am....In my head I know that's not true...but somewhere inside me....it doesn't feel like that's completely true.

I want to be strong...and give that strength to others. I want to use what happened and give hope. And I want to show the gentleness of His power is able to break through any darkness.

Speak up

"When we speak we are afraid our words will not be heard or welcomed. But when we are silent, we are still afraid. So it is better to speak." Audre Lorde 

     My older sister tells me things I've forgotten. She has told me I never talked as a kid. When someone asked me a question, I wouldn't answer - I would look to her. Relatives thought I was excessively shy. - Maybe some even thought something was wrong with me. 
     I didn't speak. I was too afraid. In school.....I never talked. When a teacher asked me a question - I didn't answer. I couldn't. One teacher told me I was the saddest child she had ever seen. 

     I don't remember being sad. I remember being angry. Very angry. Angry at me. Angry for being stupid - for not being able to talk - for not speaking - for not standing up for myself....Angry at me because I believed my parents were right....I was stupid, worthless, garbage. I failed in school. Everything. I lived in my own world - alone - lost - holding my breath - trying hard to be invisible....to not be seen.  


    I kept secrets. Lost of them. Secrets that hurt me and I would find out later, that also hurt others. I didn't believe I had the right to talk. If I tried to say something...I was told I didn't make any sense. 


    Being silent seemed easier...It wasn't. Silence crippled me - it made me feel different. It made me angry at me. - I held everything inside....then I took it all out on myself; shooting dope, throwing up, cutting myself.


     Over time I learned I need my words. I need them to express what I feel....what I need....what I want. Having my voice...being heard.... gives me a sense of freedom. But....
     ....it's easier for me to stand up for others than for myself. And I still wonder if what I think makes any sense. In a group I'm still afraid to say anything. When I do, the words seem far away...like they're not a part of me.  
      I want to speak....to tell the truth....to tell my story, to maybe make a difference in the life of someone else. 

     This week there was an article in the paper about a nineteen year old girl held in prison for minor acting out behaviours. She had a problem with hurting herself. The guards....the professionals decided to ignore her.....even when they watched her... in her cell, make a noose with a piece of clothing, place it around her throat and pull it tight. The officials said, Don't help her. Leave her alone. She died. Only nineteen. Why? Because someone felt her self-harm needed to be controlled and she needed to be taught a lesson.

That girl needed compassion....She needed understanding. I don't know if she was raped, molested, beaten.....Something was wrong for her to have wanted to hurt herself. And she didn't belong in prison. She hadn't hurt anyone. Just herself. Now she's dead. Why? 

     I remember the professionals who tried to control me. They ended up hurting me, not helping me. I want to speak. I want my voice to be heard.I want to speak out. Speak up. Make a difference.


     I'm working on finding my voice and speaking up. When I'm alone in the woods....when I hear Him whisper in my heart...encouraging me....I wonder if that's why He let me live...to tell.....

Taking A Stand

"The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controvery." Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Taking a stand and speaking out when we see or hear an injustice being done takes courage. It's not easy to get involved, to have our voice - it's so much easier to walk away; to kid ourselves into believing we didn't see, we didn't hear, we didn't really know.......

Whether it's standing up for the rights of a child to be free from harm, or a nation to be free from unjust rule, or a cause that we know we cannot look away from - taking a stand tells the world we will not be silent, we will not allow wrong to be be perpertrated - whatever the cost to ourselves.

I have struggled recently with family members who knew my sister and I were being abused. They said they didn't know how bad it was, but they admitted they were terrified or our father and that many times they pulled our mother off us when she was beating us so badly. And finally they said, "we didn't want to interfere in someone else's family problems." So they walked away and left. Left us to fend for ourselves against adults who bullied and terrorized us.

Then they said we should have asked for help. They blamed us. They said we didn't reach out. It's hard for me to understand their reasoning. We were children who had no voice. They said I was quiet, that I never talked, never spoke. I had no words. No voice. How could I have asked for help?

To protect myself, I tried to disappear, first in my head, then through drugs, throwing up and cutting myself. I willed myself to not be present. Once, while at the park, it started raining. I ran to the store to look for my sister. She wasn't there. I ran back to the park. Everyone had left. Alone in the rain, thunder and lightening, I ran home. As soon as I got in the house, my mother attacked me - punching, kicking and slapping me. She put her hands around my throat and two of my aunts grabbed her and pulled her off. I slipped away and made it to the bathroom, locking the door. I dropped to the floor, soaking wet. Her screams filtered through the door. I closed my eyes and forced myself to pull away in my mind until I couldn't hear her anymore.

I became lost. I never talked. Teachers told me I was the saddest child they had ever seen. But nobody did anything. Nobody helped.

When God wrapped His gentleness around me, poured out His love - I knew I needed to be a voice for those who had no voice. I couldn't do what my relatives had done, look the other way and walk away from anyone experiencing any form of injustice or cruelty.

I went back to school. Got my degree. For all the drugs I did, the many times my head was bashed against the wall, for all the times I was called stupid, retarded, garbage, an idiot, I somehow managed to get on the Dean's Honor List.

God empowered me. He gave me my life back, then my voice. I will never keep silent again. I will stand up and speak for those who cannot speak for themselves. I will not turn away. I will be a voice for the vulnerable, the weak and those unable to stand up for themselves. I want to make a difference, regardless of the cost to myself. With Him in my corner, I will not be silent anymore.