Survivors don’t get to choose their story but they should get to choose if, when, how, and to whom their story is told. . . This much should remain in their keeping- – as so many other things were taken without their consent. For power is gained in the victory of releasing this truth with dignity. And there is no dignity in exposing a soul against its will.  

This was my response to the news leak of the reports of the Dugger girls being molested by their older brother.  That’s all the old me had to say about it. Now here I am, new me, reading it in Facebook memories and trying to support old me in leaving it there.  I’ve always had a voice. The weaving of words is not a new craft for me. It is me.  So old me certainly had the ability to say more. 

But she chose not to. She made that choice because she didn’t believe her unique life experiences formed a point of view that needed to be voiced. 

Having a voice and having something that needs to be said are two different things. And old me- – well She only had one of those things. And new me has no fear. 

How can I say they when I openly admit that triggers, post traumatic stress, and the like continue to be part of my humanity?  I say that because the worst thing I ever thought could happen to me. . . It happened. The reason we “check on” perfectly peaceful babies.  And then become washed in the relief that they are just sleeping.  That sudden, silent phenomenon slipped into my bedroom and left me with nothing to fear. 

Will people think it was my fault? That I am making more if it than what it was? That because I was not raped or physically hurt I should not speak of it? Will they think I’m taking someone else’s tragedy and making it about mine? Will they see me as different , less than. . . Permanently reduced in their minds to the object I was for a time?  

I truly do not care because I truly do not fear. God has not given me a spirit of fear but of power and sound mind. 2 Timothy 1:7

When a spirit of fear is upon me, I know it was delivered by enemy and that he will be beat severely by my God. I can’t even say God help Him because He won’t. He will only help me come back to power and a sound mind because I know where my help comes from. 

Where does my help come from? 

I lift up my eyes to the hills– where does my help come from?

My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. Psalm 121:2

So without fear or apology I declare for the masses that I was molested by an older male in Kindergarten and first grade.  My first sexual experience happened before I knew what sex was and it clouded my heart identity with shame and weight too heavy to bear. And God was good and He was there.  And He was both those things even though sin was there and it is as bad as God is good.  God was there because I am His child and He attaches Himself to all that I am. He rejoices over the parts of my heart that are like His. He sees the ugly, dark parts and because He can have no fellowship with darkness- He covers them with the light of Christ.  

But did He allow me to be wounded and molested at a tender age? And if so, is that a God I want to get behind?

 Yes . 

.And Yes.  

God values real relationship with us over controlling us.  So even though He could have overtaken the hand of My molester, he chose not to. God is so very good that His goodness is exercised and revealed even in the “bad” things that come to His children by way of Sin.  There is no “wrong”  in my life that has not been made right in Christ. If I use my freedom to choose to accept and receive that, then I am untouchable by this  ill willed world. 

Because of this, I  can thank God for the blessings that came with being molested. And I can be released from the curse that it was as well. 

I am thankful that God uses this to carve out special sacred places In ministry for me. I am thankful for the intimacy I have had with Him since a very young age. It is no accident that my closeness with God was real to me at the same time as my sexual abuse. For He was very close to me at that time.   I am thankful He has trusted me to help his other daughters retire their titles of victim and survivor, but rather to walk into the ring as victor and thriver! 

I am thankful that He has shown me my true identity because of Who He Is. The  great I AM. 

For I am all the things He is making me to be. And He’s using all my life experiences- the exhilarating and the painful – to craft a masterpiece.  

And so it is without fear or regret that I say. . . 

Once upon a time there was a beautiful little God girl who was violated and scared. She felt shame-filled and different. But God knew that she was different because she was wonderfully and fearfully made by Him. There was a scary mean enemy who broke down a young man to trespass into territory only meant for her purity.  (Because hurt people, HURT people). But what the enemy intended for evil, God uses for good. And as This great, kind loving God walked with Her- – He taught her what her true worth was. That a man who had never harmed a creature, gave His life for hers. And she was worth His most precious blood. That all those drops of blood formed a spectacular invisible crown that made her free instead of fearful . And blessed instead of cursed. She grew and grew in strength and grace and dignity taking more and more territory in the glorious magical kingdom.  She would  continue learning to rule in love on earth as she will one day rule in Heaven. 

Nowhere Near the End