Looking for Eden, Christy's Voice (Part 2)

Tamar's Redemption Tuesdays

 How We Hurt, How We Heal

Eight years ago, in a time of immense trial, God became real to me. Although God and I met every Sunday since I was very small, sitting next to my Grandmother in the church pew, he always felt far away.

For many years, I imagined myself at the front of the time machine line – clicking back the years and changing history. I thought a re-write was exactly what I needed. Cue the knight in shining armor to save me from my childhood sexual abuse. This would change my life – for the better.

As I imagined my perfect story, free from betrayals and hurts of any kind, full of love and laughter and – everyone doing things my way –it hit me. I was looking for Eden when I live in Pennsylvania.

Used by permission, Photography by Christy Mae, Copyright 2012

Viewing my world through “personal hurt glasses” I was rejecting the story God was writing for my life. I saw every hurt, every trial as a punishment, or a lack of protection, against me. I struggled to understand how evil things happened under the watchful, ever-present eye of a loving God.

Counseling helped me to remove those glasses until I finally understood. My hero did come –but it was not in the way I had pictured it. I needed to put aside my own stubborn self to see a hero strong enough to withstand my nagging questions, loving enough to handle all of my doubts, and faithful to stay with me until I was ready to see.

"That which we fear might happen to us — might be the thing to produce deep faith in us. Why be afraid of anything — when He’s using everything?"

-- Ann Voskamp, "A Holy Experience"

You may want to read, (Part 1) Looking for a Hero, Christy's Voice

We invite you to visit Christy's blog - http://www.ahearteninglife.com/

Protecting Our Kids from Sexual Violation: The Hope (Part Seven)

"I was violated at the age of five, ten, and fifteen," she said. "At five I was touched inappropriately, at ten my girlfriends and I were playing at the park and a man exposed himself and masturbated in front of us, and at fifteen an older boy sexually assaulted me on my way home from school."

I've known this woman for over twenty-five years. I know her well. She has lived and does live a joyful life. So I asked, "Why haven't these events paralyzed you in your adult life?"

"It's how my parents handled each incident that has made all the difference," she said. "They listened to me, believed me, and took action every time. I have little memory of the first incident. I know I told my mother about the inappropriate touch, she took me to the doctor to make sure I was okay physically, and she and my father protected me from the perpetrator. They dealt with him.

"I remember the second time well," she continued.  "It was awkward, but my friends and I ran and told my dad, he took us to the police station immediately. The police caught the exhibitionist and he went to jail. We found out later that this man was a wanted on other sexual charges.

"And the third time, I ran home and told my parents. They took me to the police station and we ended up with a court case. I had to testify. It was scary, but my parents supported me the entire time. The older boy was charged and sentenced to prison.

"But do you want to know what happened after that? What's really amazing?" she asked.

"Sure," I said.

"Being a tiny girl and a racial minority in a large public high school, I used to avoid the cliques of students standing outside the front of the high school each morning and slip in a side door to avoid any kind of taunting or bullying. After I won the court case . . . I used the front door."

I can't promise you by following the six steps to protecting your kids, outlined in my previous posts, that your children will not experience a violation. It happens to one out of four girls and one out of six boys before their eighteenth birthdays. But what my survivor friends will tell you is that it's not the sexual act or violation that does the most damage to their hearts, minds, and souls. It's the isolation. It's the secret. It's the not being able to tell, or worse, not being believed.

My friend was blessed to have amazing parents who listened to her, believed her, and took action. She knows this and thanks God for them. And she has allowed me to share her story with you so your children can use the front door too.

We can follow all of the steps to protect our children from sexual violation and still a violation can occur. It happened to my daughter in high school, and I have been educating her on this issue for years. But you see, because I built the bridge of communication with my daughter, regarding sexual abuse, she knew she could cross over the chasm that abuse creates and run safely into my arms. No secrets had to be kept, no internal lies that abuse creates had to be believed. She got to hear from her parents over and over again, “It wasn't your fault.” When we take steps to educate and protect our kids we have hope. And by teaching our kids about sexual violations, we have nothing to lose.

Looking for a Hero, Christy's Voice (Part 1)

Used with permission, Photography by Christy Mae, Copyright 2012

Tamar's Redemption Tuesdays

How We Hurt, How We Heal

Thirty-six years a survivor and I still wrestle with God.

When painful memories overwhelm, it’s hard for me to see – to see God in that darkness. I have pleaded with God for His “five w” answers, but all I really want to know is “Why?”

Blaming my adult abuser was not enough for me. God became an easy target for my barrage of questions and doubts, my feelings of anger and helplessness.

If You created my inmost being and my days are written in your book, then how did You know and do nothing? Was I not worth it?

How easy it was to assume He had turned a blind eye. If He wouldn't look out for me, I would have to do it.  Stubbornly I assigned myself protection duties and began a career as a control freak – I would never be hurt again.

Back then, I needed a hero to swoop in and save the day. But He never came.

Or so I believed.

“Where were You when sin stole my innocence?

Where were You when I was ashamed?”

-Matt Maher “You Were On The Cross”

Protecting Our Kids from Sexual Violation: The Conversation (Part Six)

"And what do you write about?"

All eyes are on me. It's my turn to answer the question.

I take a deep breath and respond, "I write about sexual abuse."

I get this question all the time when I attend writers' conferences.  It's a natural inquiry at lunch or over dinner with fellow writers. Sometimes my response is followed by an awkward silence, especially in mixed company, but most of the time, the table comes alive with questions, comments, and most often, with a disclosure from a female. "It happened to me." She says, "Thank you for doing what you're doing."

"You're welcome." I say.

I know sexual abuse isn't easy to talk about, but the more we talk about it, the less power it has to enslave survivors and harm our kids. The pain of sexual abuse thrives in silence; the act of sexual abuse depends on silence.

So talk about it, talk about it, and talk about it some more. Let those around you (friends, family, babysitters, and neighbors) know you've been reading about how to protect your kids. Ask your child's coaches, church leaders, and music instructors what their organizations are doing to protect your kids from perpetrators.

Raising our voices regarding this issue has the power to shatter the silence that erodes a survivor's life and the power to divert the perpetrator who steals a child's innocence.

Please join me. Take a deep breath and say, "I speak about sexual abuse."

And I promise you, someday, someone will say, "Thank you."



Step Six: Talk about sexual abuse. Joining our voices has the power to shatter the silence that erodes a survivor's life and the power to divert the perpetrator who steals a child's innocence. Perpetrators thrive in environments of silence and ignorance. They also count on our children to keep secrets. We must teach our children that, within our families, we don’t keep secrets (step five). We must also empower our children to say no to adults when they don't feel like hugging or kissing because perpetrators avoid confident children who know they can set boundaries (step four). And remember that perpetrators avoid knowledgeable, confident kids (step three) who have a relationship with their parents (step two), especially those parents who refuse to ignore the epidemic of childhood sexual abuse (step one).

Voices of Tamar’s Redemption: Christy’s Voice, Christy’s Journey (Part 4)

Tamar's Redemption Tuesdays

How We Hurt, How We Heal

Desperate, I wanted to trust people.

I searched for acceptance and love from anyone who was willing to give it to me. Internally, I traded my trust for a guarantee – that I would never be hurt again. I jumped into relationships with everything I had. I clung to them, relied on them, looking for some security. I wanted to feel safe.

Like a teeter-totter, I swayed between depending on others for what I needed and relying on myself.  I knew deep down I would get hurt, but I also knew not trusting anyone was impossible. So I remained skeptical, ready to step in to protect myself at any moment.

Marriage was a proving ground. Initially, the promised commitment felt safe. But it wasn’t long before it all started to fall a part.

All I knew of sex and love came from untrustworthy sources. Because of my abuse, sexuality was covered in a veil of shame. Still in denial about my abuse, marital intimacy became a struggle.

I finally felt the nudge to deal with my sexual abuse. Up until that point I was suffering in silence. But the infection inside of me had become contagious. It was infecting other people. The cure, I relented, would be to finally talk about it.

Counseling became an outlet, helping me to make sense of the abuse and find my voice. It was a long, arduous process. Like surgery, my counselor helped me open it up and dig around in there. Together we removed the parts that were unhealthy.

 Used with permission, Photography by Christy Mae, Copyright 2012

It hurt a lot at first. But slowly, I was stitched back up. Tenderly, we cared for the wound until eventually it is healed from the inside out.

I have a scar.

It’s not raw anymore. Most days I don’t even see it, forget about it. But remnants will always remain. Flare-ups will happen. It’s a part of my story.

I am a survivor. And I have finally learned to live that way.

For more of Christy's story see Part One, Part Two, Part Three

 Christy's blog www.ahearteninglife.com

If you would like to encourage Christy or comment on her post and prefer not to respond anonymously on this blog, please feel free to email your comment to this secure address Tamarsredemption@verizon.net. I will be glad to send your comment or question to Christy. Blessings to you, Carolyn

Protecting Our Kids: The Secret (Part Five)

"Do you want to know a secret? I know one."

Longing to hear her whisper the seeeecret, I leaned in close and pulled my doll's string again.

"Do you want to try on my glasses?” Mrs. Beasley asked. “You may if you wish.

Huh? I pulled her string again.

"Do you want to play?"

I stared at my doll. I didn't want to try on her glasses or play with her—I wanted to know the secret! Frustrated, I grabbed her by the neck and pulled her string over and over again. Mrs. Beasley asked me more questions until she asked again, “Do you want to know a secret? I know one.”

With one more pull of the cord, my hopes of hearing her secret were dashed forever. Mrs. Beasley never divulged her secret but continued on with the same cycle of questions, and I was ready to yank her string right out of her polka-dotted little bottom.  I still loved my Mrs. Beasley doll, but I was one disappointed six-year old. Why? Because children love secrets.

Perpetrators love secrets too. They depend on them and will use cunning methods and various threats to convince your child to keep their secrets. Understanding this fact gives parents an opportunity to thwart a perpetrator’s plans by creating a home environment where secrets are discussed and discouraged.

“But what about ‘fun’ secrets?” You might ask. Lest you think I’m an old humbug, let me give you a replacement word for secret that’s even more fun for children and it begins with s. Replace the word secret with SURPRISE.

Let’s say you’re going to have a surprise party for grandma and you don’t want your little darling to blow the cover. You could say, “Sweetheart, we’re going to have a surprise party for grandma. We’re not going to tell her about it until she walks through the door and we all yell, ‘SURPRISE!’ and then you get to answer all of grandma’s questions and tell her everything.” Choosing our words wisely as parents requires some thinking and creativity, but it's well worth our time and effort when the goal is protecting our kids.

I don’t know who designed Mrs. Beasley, but whoever did, took the time to understand children. Thousands of Mrs. Beasley dolls were sold in the sixties and early seventies. Perpetrators take the time to understand children too. And thousands of children will be molested this year. It’s important for parents to remember what it’s like to be a child and do what they can to keep their children from becoming another statistic, shackled by a lonely, senseless secret.



Perpetrators count on our children to keep secrets. Our fifth step in protecting our kids is teaching our children that, within our families, we don’t keep secrets. We must also empower our children to say no to adults when they don't feel like hugging or kissing because perpetrators avoid confident children who know they can set boundaries (step four). And remember that perpetrators avoid knowledgeable, confident kids (step three) who have a relationship with their parents (step two), especially those parents who refuse to ignore the epidemic of childhood sexual abuse (step one).

Voices of Tamar’s Redemption: Christy’s Voice, Christy’s Journey (Part 3)

Tamar's Redemption Tuesdays

How We Hurt, How We Heal

I was just a kid. I had no reason not to trust him, but this left me vulnerable. He had relied on my innocence, my ignorance, and my trust. I obeyed his instructions because that is what I had always done, what I felt was expected of me. I was unaware of appropriate body boundaries. Not at that age, not back then. My abuser had certainly crossed the line.

 Used with permission, Photography by Christy Mae, Copyright 2012

This betrayal changed me.

After awhile I stopped trusting adult men. I didn’t know I was doing that at the time, of course. This change was deep inside of me, mixed into the undercurrent of how my young mind had interpreted the yucky things that happened to me. Confusion birthed lies, which took root under my surface.

Inside, my world was a swirling mess. I wanted to trust others, but I was always skeptical. On one hand I knew I could always rely on myself. But I also questioned whether I could trust my own instincts. They had been “wrong” before.

I began to believe the only way I could keep someone from taking advantage of me was to be the one in control. I doubted people had my best interest at heart so I depended on myself and set high expectations of others.

I was in bondage. Chained, to lies I had unknowingly accepted as truth. All the control I thought I had could not keep my world from falling apart.

I needed help. But I knew I couldn’t do it on my own.

“Peace and trust take years to build and seconds to shatter.”   --Mahogany SilverRain

For more of Christy's story see Part One, Part Two

 Christy's blog www.ahearteninglife.com

If you would like to encourage Christy or comment on her post and prefer not to respond anonymously on this blog, please feel free to email your comment to this secure address Tamarsredemption@verizon.net. I will be glad to send your comment or question to Christy. Blessings to you, Carolyn

Protecting Our Kids from Sexual Violation: The Boundaries (Part Four)

No child was injured during this photo shoot. 

Imagine you're three foot nothing. The world is big, very big! Adults are tall, really tall!

"Guess what, Pumpkin, today we're going to a family reunion," your mother says as she pulls open your bedroom blinds. "Time to get dressed."

You use your little fists to wipe the sleep from your eyes. You're not quite sure what a reunion is, but your mom tells you you're going to have fun, lots of fun.

A Child’s Perspective: Take One

After a long ride in the minivan, you're happy to be out of your booster seat. Your mom takes your hand and you enter a room, a really big room. There are people, really big people--everywhere. Suddenly a woman you don't know comes racing up to you. The next thing you know all you can see are big red lips, all you can smell is coffee breath, all you can hear is "Oh, isn't she a cutie patootie?", and all you can feel are your cheeks being pulled so tight you want to yell OUCH, but you can't move your lips into the OU position.

Next thing you know, you see giant hairy arms grabbing you. They pull you twenty feet off the ground. You try to look up to see who it is, but you can't. Your right cheek, still sore from Red Lips, is crushed up against someone's big green shirt. All you can see is green, all you can smell is bad aftershave, all you can hear is "Grrherherherher", and all you can feel is every ounce of air being squeezed from your tiny body. Finally, that someone lowers you to the ground. You spot your mom across the room. You run as fast as you can away from Red Lips and Green Shirt and nearly topple your mom over as you grab her legs, refusing to let go.

Being a kid is scary sometimes. Adults forget that.

A Child's Perspective: Take Two

After a long ride in the minivan, you're happy to be out of your booster seat. Your mom takes your hand, bends down, and looks you in the eye, "Now remember, you don't have to hug or kiss anyone if you don't want to. It's okay to say no thank you. I'll be right here if you need me."

You enter a room, a really big room. There are people, really big people--everywhere. Suddenly a woman you don't know comes walking up to you, she stoops down, looks you in the eye, and says, "Well hello, Sarah, it's so nice to meet you. My goodness, you're a cutie patootie."

You see her smiling face and reach out for a hug. She hugs back. You smile.

The next thing you know a giant man in a green shirt bends over, looks you in the eye, and says, "Hello Sarah."

You know him. He's your uncle.

"Do you have any hugs for your ole uncle Frank today?"

"No thank you, I don't feel like hugging right now."

"No problem. It sure is good to see you. My how you've grown. How about a high-five?"

You feel safe. You slap him a high-five. You giggle. You look up at your mom and smile. She smiles back.

Teaching kids that they can set boundaries and say no is wise all the time. Adults need to remember that.



Empowering children to say no to adults, when they don't feel like hugging or kissing, is our fourth step in protecting our children. Perpetrators avoid confident children who know they can set boundaries. Perpetrators avoid knowledgeable, confident kids (step three) who have a relationship with their parents (step two), especially those parents who refuse to ignore the epidemic of childhood sexual abuse (step one).

Voices of Tamar’s Redemption: Christy’s Voice, Christy’s Journey (Part 2)

Tamar's Redemption Tuesdays

How We Hurt, How We Heal

Used with permission, Photography by Christy Mae, Copyright 2012

I met Shame in high school. That's when the memories came flooding back. I’m sure I had met him before, but I never knew his name.

Shame became a constant companion. When the memories continued their assault, Shame made me feel like the sexual abuse had been my fault. Shame kept my mouth shut, too embarrassed to talk about it. Made me feel like I should have known better.

Not dealing with the abuse seemed easier then facing it. Denial worked, for a while, to keep my enemy Shame at bay, a shield to protect myself from his attacks. If I didn’t think about it or talk about it, I wouldn’t have to feel Shame’s nagging taunts. Or so I thought.

I was one of the “walking wounded." On the surface I used denial like a cheap Band-Aid to cover up what I didn't want to see. But an infection was slowly spreading inside of me from the pain and confusion I kept hidden.

Protecting myself became my best defense against future impropriety, along with an arsenal of denial and mistrust.  In my innocence, someone took advantage of me. If I could help it, I would never let that happen to me again.

“Shame corrodes the very part of us that believes we are capable of change.”  - Brene’ Brown

Part one of Christy's story.

http://www.ahearteninglife.com/ Christy's blog.