My mom was murdered when I was five years old. As a result I’ve felt abandoned by love. Thirty-some years late,r however, Love is finally breaking through that veiled trauma.
Many of the things God showed me, while writing my book, stole the breath right out of my lungs. The healing in my soul dripped with honey straight from a place I never knew existed within me. I have not been one to dream dreams or have visions. I used to look upon other’s experiences with the Creator with a slight twinge of envy, wondering and hoping for the day I would have those same experiences, but this past year has been heavily saturated with the tangible presence of Love.
why is love so hard to grasp?
I now understand that I had a fortress built around my heart to keep me safe from the dangers of letting love in. If I don’t allow love in then the hurt and disappointment that is sure to follow won’t be so painful. Love could not be trusted. The Creator has always felt too wild and unpredictable to me. I would witness the faith of others, their certainty, and their unwavering trust with wide-eyed wonder. All the while, doubts arose in my chest as I watched and waited warily to see how God was going to work in any given situation.
I went through a deep and very dark depression the year prior to my book being written. I couldn’t seem to find my way out of the tunnel of grief I was suddenly feeling over my mother’s sudden death. Apparently, grief has no timeline and I had never fully grieved the loss of my mom. How could I? I was barely five years old when I lost her, an entire lifetime of running while still frozen to that moment. I was becoming increasingly desperate for help. The walls I had been building were crumbling.
the beginning stages of deap healing
God is in the smallest of the details because the therapist I found specialized in trauma therapy, also called EMDR. This type of therapy uses sounds, lights, and vibrations to rewire the brain’s Nero-transmitters. I was cautiously skeptical in the beginning, as I am with most things. My therapist was so kind and sweet that she disarmed much of my suspicious nature.
I nervously sat on the couch, hands wringing, heart beating, as I recounted my childhood.
My dad had to raise three children on his own. It was not an easy path for him. As a little girl, my dad had always been my hero, larger than life, invincible. As I got older, things began to change. He remarried a very wounded woman, and our home became a place of chaos, angry outbursts, and turmoil. In the eighth grade I told my dad to go have another beer, with disastrous consequences. My dad had never laid a hand on me before that night. I saw the anger, hurt, and fury flash in his eyes, and immediately cowered in fear as he charged toward me.
After my dad slapped me, I sputtered a rebellious fuck you! I was hurting. He was furious. Round after round we continued. A slap across the face, followed by a fuck you. Things were never the same again. In my dad’s attempt to break my stubborn will, he only succeeded in breaking my spirit and the fortress around my heart became impenetrable. My mom’s death and that moment shaped my life in ways unimaginable.
I was a little girl who felt abandoned and unsafe in the world, and after that night I felt utterly forsaken as well.
I blamed God for everything that had gone wrong in my life, from the death of my mom to giving me an alcoholic and angry dad.
During one of my therapy sessions, I had a vision of Jesus. I was recounting what had happened with my dad in the eighth grade. Suddenly I burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably, my whole body shaking. In my vision, I saw Jesus standing in the room at the end of my bed. His love completely expanded within every cell of my being, as if I could tangibly touch it. I felt surrounded, enveloped, and cracked wide open by pure and inescapable Love. What on earth was happening?
Jesus was looking directly at my dad, in all his rage towards me, with an unbearable amount of love. The kindness and compassion in his eyes felt consuming. It was a gift to witness how much Jesus loved my dad in the same moment he became a monster to me.
The miracle of unconditional love
Even now my heart still swells within my chest, as the tears roll down my cheeks. It’s overwhelming to experience the Presence of that much Love.
I wish I had the words to adequately convey what I saw and felt that day. After that day I haven’t been the same. Jesus looked at my dad as though he was an innocent child, before the painful stain of hurt and disappointment took a hold.
I am no longer that little girl who always felt abandoned by Love! I feel love in every fiber of my being.
If you have ever felt abandoned or unworthy of love you’re not alone. Trauma causes us to question and doubt the existence of Love.
I hope that one day you will encounter true, unconditional Love! May your heart be open to the possibility of Love interrupting an ordinary day, in a full stop, extraordinary way! Above all, may my experience give you hope that its possible. Unconditional love exists. Love has never left your side. The pain you’ve experienced can not be wiped away but can be healed. Pain has an incredible way of distorting the lens through which we percieve the world. When Love enters the room and time stands still for that moment, you won’t be left unchanged. The Jesus that I met is not the Jesus you hear about within religion so you don’t have to go there to find him. You must look within and remove the walls that are blocking you from seeing and feeling his unconditional love.