A Letter to My Younger Self

Dear Child,

I know what happened; I was there. Your innocent heart was like a rosebud, a pure white flower in a crystal vase. Then an evil hand came and smudged one of the petals. In your innocence, you were soon able to forget and go on with your play.  

You didn’t know this wasn’t normal, you didn’t know this was wrong but you kept it to yourself, why?

Maybe because it made you feel uncomfortable, maybe because you were afraid he would find out and get upset.  But it continued, one petal after another was smudged then crushed until one day the flower withered and died and the water of joy that had been feeding it had also drained away.

As a young child, you soon learned to be afraid of—him. By nature, you would have been carefree, but a shell that some called shyness was developing around you.

Time passed and you gradually became more aware of right and wrong. You saw younger children still carrying the beautiful bud of innocence but yours was gone, faded and dying. It was then you began to realise that the delicate vase that was in your heart had also been crushed and the broken pieces were piercing you, causing much pain.

Is that the end: a broken heart, a dying flower?

It seemed like. In fact, the cuts festered over the years as you learned this was not normal and many were going through life happy because no evil monster had snatched away the flower of innocence and left a broken heart.

By now, those pieces have embedded deep into your heart but you observed others were acting ‘normally’ so pretended to do the same. How can a person be ‘normal’ when the slightest memory brings pain and bad experiences would cause the old wounds to start bleeding away?

How can you go on like this? But you did, year after year, you raised a family, had a caring husband …and prayed…

I keep ‘seeing’ the Great Physician hovering over me while I write; He wants me to remind you how He removed those crushed shards one by one and poured in the healing balm of love.

I know and am grateful for what He has done, but there are

others who are still suffering. Give your heart to Jesus let Him remove the broken pieces. It will not be easy but will sure be a lot easier than having them remain there.
I may have lost that flower of innocence at too young an age but it’s okay, now, because the Great Physician gave me what feels like a Garden of Eden in return

Mommy Loves You

I don’t know your name, or your exact story, but I do know you’re hurting, sad. Just a few years ago you looked at ‘them’ with wide, uncomprehending eyes. You were a child, innocent, bewildered that people could do such things. Even in your childlike way you know they were being bad. But they kept on being bad, and when you cried they hurt you, too. You were a child, innocent and uncomprehending. For a while you would block it out because you couldn’t understand it anyways, sometimes you would even forget long enough to play a little.

But that didn’t last. As the abuse got worse, and they started to do it to you more and more often, you became afraid, it became harder to forget the cruelty and other things you didn’t know the names for.

After a while you were big enough to go to school. Someone saw your round, horror-filled eyes and they knew. They knew you had seen too much, suffered too much, but they didn’t know what to do.

That happened to me. I saw a little girl on the street once, she looked at me, I looked at her, and I saw. I read the message of pain in her eyes but felt helpless to do anything.

I still feel helpless, but want to do more, so, so much more. Sometimes I cry when girls just like you tell me the terrible things that bad ‘Daddy’s’ do to them.

I know you are afraid to share with me and I know why. You have learned not to trust adults. I want to let you know I care, I will believe you, I will LOVE you.

 When you are ready you may contact me on Hangouts. Others have. Remember I love YOU and I’m praying for YOU. Will you give me a call so I can show my love, and pray more effectively?

Just call me

Mommy

The others do.