safe place – Lisa J Radcliff ~ Finding Freedom from the Past

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.

I spent the past few weeks working on issues surrounding Child Sexual Abuse (CSA) for two different organizations. While I welcome those opportunities, sometimes the burden of talking about the ugliness of CSA gets a bit heavy.

So, when I recently read at least half a dozen Facebook posts claiming “we never had to worry about our safety when we were kids. We could walk around our neighborhoods, ride our bikes, and play at the park until suppertime without fear,” I thought, Really? The thing is, I grew up in the same era, and I was not safe walking the three blocks to the park. And, even though they didn’t know it, neither were they.

As elementary-school-age kids, a friend and I would hurry home on winter afternoons, grab our ice skates, and head off to the ice rink at our local park. We usually walked from school to her house, then to my house, then to the rink, all within a few blocks of each other. Donning our snow pants and skates, we’d hit the ice and spend about two hours skating around the oval rink—trying new moves, jumping onto a “snap the whip” line, diving onto the ice just to see how far we could slide.

It was a great time with lots of laughter. At five o’clock it would be time to go home. We’d tread to the park entrance, feeling like our skates were still on our feet. Then we parted ways, she would go straight, and I would turn left to get home.

A sex offender lived across the street from the park. I don’t think my friend ever knew he was there. She probably walked past, still giddy from our skating adventures, feeling no fear. I would walk past with rising anxiety, hoping not to encounter him. With my heart pounding and eyes darting, happy thoughts of an afternoon of winter fun melted away.

Winter was a safer season than the others. Spring and Fall, he was more likely to be outside. I don’t know if he really enjoyed gardening and yard work that much, or if he was outside looking for kids (or victims) coming from or going to the park. Summer was the worst. He didn’t just hang out at his house. He spent a lot of time at the park’s swimming pool, trolling for victims.

No, the little girls at the park or walking by his house were not safe. Although, most of them never knew they were in danger. For some of us, our lives were forever damaged, a piece of childhood lost forever. And because of the silence, secrecy, and shame associated with CSA, most victims never told anyone what was happening. That is how non-victims can be ignorantly thankful they grew up when the world was a “safe place,” blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked in their neighborhoods and the fear and pain some of their closest friends endured.

So, did they really live in a world where kids could walk around their neighborhoods, ride their bikes, and stay out until suppertime without worrying about being harmed? Fortunately, for them, that was the world as they knew it. I wish it had been the same world for all of us.

The man who abused me died a few months ago. A known offender is dead—our world is a little safer. Or is it? There will always be another to take his place, shattering the safe world of select children. Offenders may never be caught, but they, too, are wrong if they think they are safe. God is just.

“Behold, at that time I will deal
    with all your oppressors.
And I will save the lame
    and gather the outcast,
and I will change their shame into praise
    and renown in all the earth.” Zephaniah 3:19 (ESV)