Tag: faith

Lessons from a Fire: Lesson 3 – Grieving What Was Lost

My last two blog posts shared connections I saw between a fire at a local bank and recovering from sexual abuse. The first showed how setting up boundaries is essential to rebuilding in safety. The second explored the dangers hiding within the walls. Today I’m going to move from the bank fire to something a little more personal—a fire at our home.

We were jolted awake by pounding on our front door. Jumping out of bed and running down the hallway, my husband yelled over his shoulder, “Call 911—the garage is on fire!” From our bedroom, I saw an orange glow filling the window at the end of the hallway, a stark contrast to the night sky. I stumbled to the phone, but just as I got there, Doug hollered up the stairs, “Never mind. They’re here.”

It was a police officer who had been pounding on the door. The newspaper delivery boy (remember those?) saw the fire and called 911. I was thankful for the young entrepreneur making his rounds, tossing newspapers on porches before sunrise. Fire trucks rolled up and started dousing the flames. The backyard filled with first responders, onlookers, and possibly the arsonist. We found out from the police that it was arson season. At the change of seasons, the arsonists come out. And they like to hang out and watch the devastation. I never knew.

Fortunately, our garage was at the back of the property, safely away from house. It was actually three structures meshed together over 100 years. The oldest was a chicken coop, then a storage shed, and finally a garage. We used the entire structure for storage. It was full: projects we were working on, kids’ outdoor toys, tools—you name it, it was stored there.

And that was the problem. So much stuff. By the time the fire was completely out, the garage and its contents had been reduced to ash, mangled metal, and unidentifiable melted stuff. The insurance company was happy to reimburse us for the value of everything we lost. All we had to do was figure out what was lost and the replacement cost for it—before googling was a thing.

First, we had to remember or identify all that was lost. Sifting through the remains, some items were obvious and some were not. A melted red and yellow lump stumped us for a short time. Then we remembered: the Little Tikes car. There were antique tools that just needed to be cleaned up. But other antiques, including a set of French doors we were refinishing, were destroyed.

The research began. We lived in an area saturated with antique stores. I visited several of them, asking about the value of the things we had lost. Then I browsed the local Sears Hardware store to price all the tools, ladders, gardening supplies, and other items we could remember were inside the garage. The insurance company would only pay one time, so anything we had forgotten to claim could not be claimed later. As the years went by, and we needed a particular item but couldn’t find it, we realized it was probably in the garage.

The connection to rebuilding after sexual abuse is that it is necessary to recognize what was lost. We may even have to make a list. That list might include childhood innocence, trust, safety, relationships, self-worth, and more. Grieving the things that were lost is necessary. But we don’t want to stay in the ashes. After acknowledging what was lost, it’s time to rebuild.

Over time, flashbacks or memories of abuse may surface. I still get those, 45 years after my abuse ended. I believe God brings to mind past abuses when we are ready to work through them. Unlike the insurance company’s one-time payout, we can continue to work through the memories and effects of abuse for as long as it takes.

For our garage, my husband designed the new garage and did most of the rebuilding himself, with some help from friends. The police never found the arsonist, so justice was never served in that way. Likewise, most abusers are never charged with a crime or brought to justice, but that doesn’t mean we are stuck with a pile of ashes. After the fire, we removed the ashes and rebuilt something better than the hodgepodge of structures that was there before.

Survivors of abuse can do the same with the help of friends, support groups, counselors, and God himself. He is the master designer and builder. The life he can rebuild from the ashes of abuse may be more beautiful than if the abuse hadn’t happened. But it takes work. Set up boundaries to rebuild from a place of safety. Recognize the harmful effects of abuse. Grieve what was lost. And trust God to create beauty from ashes.

And provide for those who grieve in Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor. Isaiah 61:3 NIV

If I can help in your rebuilding, please contact me.

Lessons from a Fire – Lesson 1: Safety First!

A fire tore through a local bank building just over a year ago. The lobby was destroyed. Remnants of black smoke clung to the stone facade above the boarded-up doors and windows. Clearly, there was structural damage to the drive-thru, and large pieces of fascia curled away from the building like peeling paint. Over the next few weeks, a salvage company demolished the rest of the building and leveled the ground around it. The burned-out business put up signs saying they were rebuilding. Several months passed with no evidence of rebuilding. But then a construction company’s billboard-sized sign appeared, announcing the rebuilding project was underway.

This time, evidence of rebuilding appeared. Heavy equipment was parked on the property. Dirt was pushed around. But what stood out to me was that barricades were set up. One of the first steps in rebuilding was making the project safe. A big part of that safety plan was to keep out those who might cause more harm.

As an abuse survivor, those barricades were a visual reminder of the need to set up boundaries while in the process of rebuilding what was lost. Many survivors have false guilt when they create space between themselves and those who might cause them harm. They know that some of those people don’t mean to cause harm, but their words or attitudes do just that. So, to rebuild their emotional health, they may need to erect some barricades and keep certain people out of their lives, at least for a time.

The barricades on the bank building remained until the construction was just about completed. They were in place until all the structural work was done, and just the finish work on the inside was left. But it occurred to me that the inside still has a barricade in the form of a vault. Very few people who enter the bank will be allowed access to the vault. It’s not for everyone, just those with the right clearances. Survivors should make note of that too. There will always be parts of their life or story that are not for everyone, just the most trusted people in their lives. And that’s okay. It’s not just okay, it’s necessary.

Most abusers are people who were trusted. Being harmed by someone you trusted is as damaging to a person as that fire was to the bank. Like the rebuilding of the bank, survivors need to do the work of removing the damaged areas and preparing their hearts to rebuild trust. Rebuilding trust takes time.

Start with the barricades. They allow you to rebuild from a place of safety. The first steps might be with a counselor, pastor, or trusted friend. It might be in a support group. It needs to be with people who won’t do more harm. Over time, you will rebuild trust and be able to take down some of the barricades because you’ll feel safe without them. In the process of rebuilding, you’ll become more resilient. Even if someone harmful shows up in your life, it doesn’t mean that what you’ve rebuilt will come crashing down. You will have learned that other people don’t control you or your emotions—a big step in the rebuilding process.

Eventually, you’ll feel that the barricades can come down, except that vault. The keys to that are only for certain individuals and God himself. He is the one who can be fully trusted with your heart and life. We will never fully understand the depth of his love and care for us. He promises he will fight for us, he will restore us, and he will bring us safely home. Even when we don’t feel safe or wonder if all that was lost to abuse can be restored, God will fulfill his promises, and we can rest safely in that.

After you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. 1 Peter 5:10 ESV.

Scar Season

It’s the season of scars. The kids are outside again. Skinned knees are just a stone-under-a scooter-tire away from happening. Time to stock up on the Paw Patrol Band-Aids® and fill the freezer with boo-boo bunny ice packs. The adults are not immune to the scars of spring either. My husband has already started a few new ones from cutting down some trees, pulling out picker bushes (his nemesis), and getting the zero-turn ready for the season.

My scars are well documented in my second book, A Time to Laugh: My Life Over Fifty with talk of tattooing them into something fun (check it out). But just for good measure, I tripped over one of the picker bush vines while walking in the woods yesterday and did a full body plant. I told Doug where it is so he can eradicate it from the face of the earth. Fortunately, I didn’t break a hip, but I may have a new scar somewhere. Oh well. Tis the season.

The most important and most talked about scars of this season are the ones Jesus acquired when he went to the cross. And they should be. His scars were from wounds that bring us healing. Think about how he got those scars: from the crown of thorns pressed into his head; from the scourging (short whips with sharp pieces of bone and metal) of his back, buttocks, and legs; from the nails in his feet and hands; and from the spear that pierced his side. They ought to be talked about and pondered this Easter season.

In the past year, I had torn rotator cuffs (yes, cuffs, both of them). Because of my FQAD, torn tendons are common. I’ve had a torn rotator cuff repaired in the past. But this time, as I remembered the pain and difficulty recovering from that surgery, I hesitated to do it again. I didn’t have FQAD then. It can be negatively affected by anesthesia. It could cause more tears after the repair. I was torn about what to do with these tears. So I spoke to my physical therapist.

He said that if I decided not to have surgery, PT would help build the muscles around it, and scar tissue could develop, which would maybe do some “repairing” of the tear. I opted not to have surgery. I’m so glad I made that decision. I have almost full use of my shoulders. It seems scar tissue did form over the tears. So, the scars had some healing properties, but they can’t do what Jesus’s scars did.

His scars healed the broken relationship between the Father and his children. His scars brought eternal healing, full and forever. My scars bought me a little time to be able to do things with less pain. His scars healed me for all of eternity. My scars only affected me. His scars were effective for the whole world.

He was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace; and with his wounds we are healed. Isaiah 53:5 ESV.

Daffodil Hope

Early spring in my neck of the woods is one of my favorite seasons. Down by the lake behind our house, the peepers hatched, and they fill the air with unending chirps. The red-wing blackbirds are back, squawking loudly. Their songs are challenged by the grackles’ return and their calls that are reminiscent of an old rusty swing.

There’s a red hue on the tips of the tree branches, promising the gray winter woods will soon be replaced with the pale green of new leaves. Slivers of bright yellow are peeking through buds on forsythia bushes, ready to burst. A few pink cherry blossoms have already popped open. All of these are signs that spring is indeed here.

My favorite sign though is the daffodils blooming in the woods. I think it’s because they sprout and bloom among the dead leaves on the forest floor. New life rising from where there was only death. I can walk through the woods, with the dead leaves and fallen branches crunching under my feet and come upon a delicate daffodil with its colorful little trumpet reaching for the light. They brighten my mood, making me smile. They give me hope that more flowers and warmer temperatures are on the way. And they are a perfect picture of new life in Jesus. We were dead in our sins, but God made us alive in Jesus.

Maybe it’s not a perfect picture of new life in Jesus because the daffodils always had some life in them, even as dormant bulbs. They just needed the right conditions to sprout and come to life. We are kind of the opposite really. We are alive: eating, breathing, heart beating. But spiritually, we aren’t dormant, we’re dead. Warm temperatures, a change in seasons, the right amount of rain and sun—none of it will bring us to life. It took another death, the death and resurrection of God’s own Son, for us to have a chance at new life, eternal life.

New life can come at any time of year for those pursuing it, not just springtime. It doesn’t have to wait for the seasons to change. It just takes recognition that you’re dead in your sins and a desire to be alive. Believing that Jesus died in your place so that you can have eternal life is the beginning of faith. Faith blooms and flourishes as it pushes through the dead stuff of our lives, leaving it all behind, and reaches for the light of the world. These are the thoughts I have when I see the first flowers of spring among the deadness of winter’s remnants. And my heart is forever grateful for the new life I was given forty-five years ago.

Why stay dead when Jesus offers you eternal life? Spring is a perfect time for a new life—a season of new beginnings, of hope, when the dead are raised to life, like my little woodland daffodils.

But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. Ephesians 2:4-5 NIV

Monochrome Life

Does your life ever feel monochrome? Gray? Boring, lacking color or vibrancy? That’s what I thought about as I looked out at the scene before me. Gray rocks, gray water, gray sky. The mountain, too, would be gray, if it wasn’t socked in behind the gray fog. A darker gray line delineated the horizon. There is beauty in it if you’re willing to see past the bleakness.

As I sat there looking into the gray water and sky, I thought how this is the way I sometimes see my life. Chronic pain is its monochrome feature. Always there, some days with the heaviness of darker, stormier gray, other times just a little misty gray fog.

Glancing to my left, the late July huckleberry bushes were covered in green huckleberries. More monochrome, only green, making it difficult to distinguish the berries from the leaves. But then I noticed a few of the huckleberries had started to ripen. A lot were green, but some were pink, some were a deep wine, and others were already purple. It won’t be long until they will bring joy to a little girl I know who loves to pick them.

The changing berries gave me renewed hope. Life is not monochrome forever. Even today, I can tell the sun is trying to burn off the fog and gray clouds. A brightness comes and goes bringing hope for a more colorful day ahead. Sometimes it just takes a little time.

My monochrome of chronic pain will have its season. But there will be colorful times interspersed, even during days when the pain is great. There are friendships that bring hot-pink laughter. There are soothing violet pleasures in reading a good book. There are happy, bright yellow squeals from grandchildren. There is the deep blue calm of prayer. The monochrome that tries to take over gets pushed back just a little.

And when the gray lingers, it is a reminder to lean on the one who created the full spectrum of color. He has chosen which colors to use in just the right amount to create his masterpiece. He knows when to blend in other colors and when to just leave the gray. One day, when we look back at the design he has chosen for each of us, we will be amazed at the beauty the grays brought to our lives.

Embrace your monochrome days. They have beauty and purpose and will make the colors around them even more glorious. And just maybe with a little time, they will give way to unexpected vibrant-colored joys.

For I consider the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. Romans 8:17 ESV