I can’t tell you how many people have told me, in so many words, I need to move on from the atrocities of my childhood. I was told I didn’t need to stay stuck; that is — until they share a tragedy of their own. Then, the story changes and they get sucked into their own landscape of pain.
Pain is the great equalizer.
Over the years, I didn’t pay much attention to the naysayers. What did they know about my life? Even less about my pain. Besides, what they think about me is none of my business. So, I have stayed on my path knowing that God’s grace is enough for me.
I don’t squelch justice refusing to seek it here on earth. I let God have free reign with my justice, thus ensuring the truest kind.
I don’t hate and I’m not angry with my abusers.
My greatest passion is to help set the captive free from their prisons. Speaking the truth to bring light into the darkness.
When I was three, I had a doll named Mrs. Beasley. I remember her well. She had a string on the side of her body, that when you pulled it, it introduced a burst of chatter into the room. She would converse with you. I loved that doll. She was a shining star in my bleak existence. One day, my brother drowned her in our small plastic pool. When she was given back to me, you could still pull the string but her mechanism to talk had been destroyed.
My voice works. It’s loud and sure. Steady is my path. I won’t stop until I return to the One who made me. I encourage you to use your voice, too.