As a child, the confidence I should have had in my parents to protect me was severely damaged. I did not trust that they would keep me safe. I could not go to them for help. In fact, when I was a teen I went to my mom and told her that I needed help – that I was going crazy. Her response to me was “your just growing up”. That response left me so devastated that I realized I had no where to turn. Shortly after that, I attempted suicide, which landed me in the hospital for several months. From there, I went to a foster home.

When a child’s confidence in their parents is damaged, it has a profound affect on their ability to trust people. Even more important, was the fact that my ability to trust the Lord, in all things, was severely damaged. Oh, I have tried so hard, so many times, to trust Him, but my confidence in His ability to keep me safe was lacking significantly. Regardless, I did not give up the ship, so to say. I continued to seek His guidance for my life over the years – sometimes basking in it and sometimes falling away from it.

This week opened my eyes to a new level of understanding of what having confidence in the Lord means. Years ago, I prayed that the Lord would change me. I was deeply depressed – angry to the point that I was taking it out on my children and husband. I was dissociating so much that my husband never knew who he was coming home to each day. I have struggled for so many years in any relationships that I had – at home and at work. I tried to wrestle with the damage of my childhood only to run away from it as hard as I could. I could not understand why I can’t “get better”. I was not only diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder, but also Chronic Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. When anything stressful came along, no matter how minute it was, I reacted way out of proportion to the crisis.

In therapy this week, I felt for the first time, the extreme terror and chaos that I grew up with. I have blocked it out for so many years. It was like beginning to walk through a mirror, only instead of the mirror breaking, it liquefies, (like what happens in the movies). On the other side, the reality of the horror that I grew up with was there. I could not walk all the way through, because the terror was too real, but for a split second, I was there again. (No hypnosis involved here). I realized that there was no way that I could have trusted my dad because of the terror and the chaos that I lived with on a daily basis. That experience was profound, as I have held my dad up to be a good, loving man – in a sense trying to protect myself from the reality of who he was. Tears come to my eyes right now as I write this.

My dad was an extremely violent man. We always had to be on guard as we never knew when he would start in on us, yelling & screaming, throwing things at us, hitting us, etc. There was no safety as my mom would just sit or stand there, frozen in fear. All these years I have been angry with her, when I should have been angry at dad. I am happy to say that is changing – thank the Lord for His grace. What made everything so crazy for me is that my dad would apologize and tell me that he would never hurt me again. Did he keep his promise? NO. His final lashing out at us was when he took his own life.

Having confidence in the Lord has been a huge challenge for me. Just this morning I was reading how Ezra had confidence in his Lord. He knew that God’s hand was on his life and his journey. He fasted, prayed, and waited on God, trusting that He would provide a safe journey to Jerusalem. Like I said earlier, I prayed years ago that the Lord would change me. It has been a long, hard journey. Many times I fell off the path, only to have God’s gracious hand come along and help me up yet again. As I look back I can see where He has protected me from the enemy – Satan. Because of my background it is truly a miracle that I am still alive. I could have taken my life many times over, but when those times came, the Lord came alongside in one way or another, whether I could see Him or not. He has protected me on my journey and will continue to do so. My confidence in Him is becoming more secure. He is our only sure protection against the enemy who seeks to destroy.

This was a dream that I had a while back.

I was standing with a group of people watching a performance when I noticed a man start to play the violin. I said to those who stood near me, “Look at the man playing the fiddle!” His music was beautiful. He played with so much emotion. It brought tears to my eyes. Then a whole group of violinists joined him. After it was over, he sold me his violin for $600. For some reason, I went shopping afterwards, carrying the violin with me, while I made other purchases. It was difficult to carry so I went in search of a bag – once I got a bag that it would fit in I went back to where I had been stayng with a large group of women. We had lunch. I had my new violin with me. I decided to play it. When I opened the bag I found that the violin had come apart. Every joint had separated. I was devastated! Different people looked at it and said that it was useless to have it put back together. One girl said that after so many years a violin just does this. It gets tired and worn and old and just falls apart. It was to old to put back together. I thought to myself that there had to be a way. If I could find someone who would put it back together then I could play it and I would handle it with such love and care. I wouldn’t play it really hard as the man had done. There had to be someone who would see that the violin still had some life in it! Then I woke up.

God speaks to me through my dreams. He used this one to give me hope in spite of having such a broken life. He can put a broken life back together. Nothing is impossible for Him! Even though there are others who don’t believe – believe in what God can do and will do! With Him, nothing is impossible!

There I was, five years old, dressed in a pretty, white party dress, and standing in front of a door. As I stood there the door opened and Jesus came walking out. He held out his hand to me. I started to reach for his hand, then I lowered my arm and my head, knowing that I couldn’t take his hand. Fear and shame gripped my heart. I knew that I was too dirty. I feared that I would make him dirty as well. On top of that, I was afraid that he would hurt me as I had been hurt so many years ago.

That was a vision that I had many years ago. Even though I made the choice to follow Jesus long ago, I could never seem to give myself completely over to him. There has always been something in the way. I have been studying, with our churches women’s Bible study, the Sermon on the Mount, since the beginning of the year, and this past week our study focused on the wide vs. narrow gate.

From the very first time I had the vision, I wanted so badly to trust Jesus enough to take his hand. As I sat in my small group, last Wednesday, I was suddenly reminded of that little girl, all dressed in white, reaching her hand up to take his – this time I said yes. There was no fear in my heart. Tears began to well up in my eyes and I tried to share with my group what was happening to me. I don’t know if I made any sense, but it really didn’t matter as I knew in my heart what had just happened. It was beautiful.

Since January we have carefully gone through each section of the Sermon on the Mount – the Beatitudes, Salt & Light, the Fulfillment of the Law, Murder, Adultery, Divorce, Oaths, An Eye for an Eye, Love Your Enemies, Giving to the Needy, Prayer, Fasting, Treasures in Heaven, Do Not Worry, Judging Others, Ask Seek Knock, the Narrow & the Wide Gates, A Tree & Its Fruit, the Wise & the Foolish Builders. Each week I was challenged to change different areas of my life in obedience to Jesus’s teachings. Oh, I’ve read Matthew 5, 6, & 7 before, but only applied bits and pieces of it to my life. However, with this study, (by John Stott), I found myself convicted each and every week – all the sections applied to me. It has been a very humbling experience.

So, last Wednesday, we arrived at the Wide & Narrow Gate. We could take the wide gate with the wide path on which to walk – easy – everyone does it – no rules – etc. Or we could take the narrow gate with the narrow path – hard – only room for one person – many rules – etc. The difference – the real difference between the two gates is that Jesus stands just past the entrance of the narrow gate, ready to take our hand, to lead us in becoming more like him. That takes trust – when we rely only on him to help us walk.

To be honest with you, I never thought I would get to this point, but here I am. My hand in his.

I had a real “Job” moment last Sunday morning in church. Seated in front of me was my dear friend, Sandy, who has battled cancer for a year now. A little over a month ago the doctor discovered another tumor, which means another round of radiation. I know that many people, me included, are praying for her to be healed. But, I didn’t want to get my hopes up for her.

As I was sat there in church, listening to Pastor Jim’s sermon, I heard God speaking to me. He said, “Who are you to question whether Sandy will be healed or not? Who are you to question whether or not I will heal you? Who are you to doubt whether or not I will or won’t heal a person?” Tears quietly streamed down my face as I tried to keep it together.

Last November, my (foster) sister-in-law, Wendy, found herself very sick, with severe abdominal pain, unable to keep anything down, . She was in the hospital for a period of time while the doctors tried to figure out what was wrong with her. Over the next several months she battled the “illness”. By late January, she ended up back in the hospital for exploratory surgery. It was then that the surgeon discovered that her appendix had ruptured and had probably done so back in November! She is now back home and is on the long road of recovery.

I tell you these two stories because of the one thing they have in common – not the illnesses – but the promises that they both received. God gave them both a promise that their illness would not result in their death. Wendy clung to that promise because she had an unshakable faith in the Lord. And, it is the same promise that Sandy clings to.

God reminded me today of the same promise He gave me back in Dec of 2006 in regards to healing my wounded childhood. I had been living with this sense of dread that if I allowed myself to remember the wounds of my childhood, I feared that I would not survive – that I would surely die. God spoke to me through my reading for that particular day in Psalm 91. When I read those words back then, I realized that God’s promise to me was to walk along side me and to keep me safe – not safe from bodily or emotional harm – but from my soul being destroyed. In my prayer that day I had written these words, “My Lord & Savior, I so understand how You protect me from danger now. The area in my life that needs to be protected is my soul. That is your promise to me. While I may go through and have gone through so much trouble – well, there will always be suffering, physically and even mentally, – but, You will hold my soul in Your hands so that no one can touch it!”

I know that the Lord has healed my heart in so many ways and I know that there is yet a lot of healing to be done. I understand the reason why He doesn’t heal instantaneously in my life. If He had I would have missed out on so many lessons learned which has caused my faith to grow exponentially. So, I chalk this latest “episode” to a lesson learned.

A couple of weeks ago, our associate pastor shared with our women’s Bible study group, a story concerning a small boy whose hand was stuck in a expensive vase. His mother tried in vain to pull his hand out, but to no avail. She hated to break the vase because it was so valuable, but finally it was the only solution. After she broke the vase she discovered that her son had his fist balled up. Inside his balled up fist was a penny. He had been hanging onto it for dear life and was not about to let it go. I have heard several versions of this story. In some it is a penny, in others it is a quarter. However, the size of the coin is not the issue here.

When I told my husband, he reminded me of how monkeys are sometimes caught in India. Since they believe in reincarnation, they don’t want to hurt or kill the monkeys, so they came up with a humane way to catch the monkeys. They make special metal vases with a narrow opening, drop a banana inside, which the monkeys can see and smell. The monkey puts his hand inside the vase and grabs the banana, trying to pull it out. But the clenched fist with the fruit is too wide to come out through the narrow neck of the vase. The monkeys are extremely stubborn, they never let go of a fruit once they have found it, so they are stuck there, sometimes for hours, with their hand caught inside the vase. Eventually, the monkey is caught and released deep in the forest with his banana.

I know that I have held on to many “bananas, pennies, and quarters” way to long, never willing to completely let go. I have preferred to remain stuck without even knowing it. The story of the little boy has been on my mind quite a bit lately as I deal with my mom issues. It dawned on me that the little girl inside is holding on so very tightly to the dream that maybe, someday, my mom will be there for me, for that little girl. I, like the little boy, who put so much value in the penny/quarter, or the monkey, who wasn’t about to give up one of his favorite foods even if he got caught, don’t want to give up on my mom – my dream.

What I didn’t realize is that it is keeping me stuck! To let go of my dream, I need to open up my fist, let go, and allow myself to be vulnerable to what ever happens. That could very possibly be that my mom will never be the mom that I have always wanted.

But, there was something bigger here that I failed to see until now. By keeping my fist clasped tight around that dream, I kept myself from having a deeper relationship with family, friends, and with the Lord. I have also not handed over my life completely to God. By refusing to open up my hand, I refused to allow myself to receive the healing that my wounded heart needs. I short-change myself, allowing myself to be fooled by the lies of Satan. Am I willing enough to let go of that dream, that penny/quarter or fruit, to allow myself to go free and let the Lord do His work in me?

Having been wounded so deeply, it is not easy to just open my hands, but I do have a promise from Him. Regardless of how my mom responds or doesn’t respond to me – if my dream never becomes a reality in regards to my mom – the Lord will meet my need. “And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus” – Phiippians 4:19. Actually, He already has in that He has given me a wonderful foster mom, Vera, and a wonderful spiritual mom, Halee. Duh! It takes me awhile to get things.

“Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.” Matthew 5:7. This verse hit me hard last Wednesday morning as I sat listening to our associate pastor, Betsy, talk about the Beatitudes. I could not hold the tears back and I almost had to get up to leave as I had a hard time holding my sobs in. (I have learned to take Kleenex with me all the time)

Several weeks earlier I had sent an email to Betsy asking her what it means to honor my parents in light of child abuse. What are my obligations? I found it interesting that Betsy had not gotten back to me yet, which turned out to be a good thing, as I learned another lesson. I need to ask God first. So, as Betsy spoke last Wednesday, I got my answer not just from her; more importantly, it came straight from God.

I don’t deserve mercy from the Lord. I am a sinner, plain and simple. I have done things that I am terribly ashamed of – some things that I know I would be judged harshly for – some things that I would be too afraid to even mention to people – some things that I would rather not know myself. The good thing? Jesus. He has extended mercy; loving me regardless of what I have or have not done. I did nothing to deserve it – no work – no good deeds. Nothing. He simply loves me unconditionally.

Yet, I have placed conditions on whether or not I extend love to my mom (my father took his life in 1987). I have judged her. I have condemned her. I have shut her out of my life. Yes, the world says that she deserves it. The world says that I don’t have to honor her – that I don’t have to care about her. Yes, she hurt me by not getting me the help I needed when I asked her. She hurt me by not protecting me and my siblings from our father. She hurt me by believing that I didn’t need her (when I really did and have all of my life). Yes, it hurts very deeply, but when it comes to extending mercy to her the way Jesus does – well, I need to discard all that hurt – all that pain. I need to quit judging her.

As I write this, my heart is so heavy. Tears are brimming over. My throat is tight. Regardless, I know that what Jesus wants me to do is to let go of all that Mom has done or not done, and just love her. I ask that you who read this to pray for me. It will not be an easy process, nor do I expect this to happen overnight. The Lord knows that some healing needs to take place in my heart, but I know that the process of healing has begun.

Deep down inside me is a hurt child, who so badly wants to love her mommy, but she can’t understand why things happened as it did. As an adult and a mom, I know what it is like to pick up your child and love them regardless of the bad things they have done. Unconditionally. I want to love my mom the same way. Pray that my mind will clear of all the bad stuff that clouds my ability to love her.

I hope that this has not been to difficult to read, but this has been heavy on my heart for quite a while. I would love to get your feedback and support.

May the Lord bless you!

In an earlier blog I promised to write more about about how I used music to escape. In elementary school I wanted to play the cello, but I was told that I was too small, so I learned how to play the violin. I was good enough that my friend and I used to play for women’s clubs and other small events. We played in the advanced orchestra during the summer months which was always fun.

After six grade graduation my family moved to a different part of So. Cal. which meant that I would be going to a new Junior High School. That September, I discovered that my new school did not have an orchestra, but they did have a band. The band teacher offered to give me violin lessons after school, but after a few lessons he realized that he was not skilled in strings so the lessons stopped. It was shortly after that when my dad “decided” that my violin was broken. He “took” it and said that he would fix it. Several months later, I discovered it up in my parents closet, broken. I never saw it again.

Understand that for me playing my violin was how I cried when no tears would come. It allowed me to escape the hell hole I was living in. Music of any sort would wisk me away. Music became my way of dealing with the intense feelings that I had inside. When my father took away my violin all “crying” stopped. Years went by. I was removed from the home and placed in a foster home. I got married, had several children, when I finally summed up the courage to try to play again. I rented a violin, but I just couldn’t play. There was too much emotional pain attached to playing and I was drowning inside. So, I returned the violin.

About ten years later I tried again. This time I was at a place where I could allow my tears to flow through music. I had been using a borrowed violin, when my spiritual Mom, Halee, purchased a beautiful violin for me. A gift from God she called it and indeed it was! I began taking lessons, but about six months later, my hands were giving me major problems. It was then that I discovered that I had Rheumatoid Arthritis. I had to stop playing as it was too painful, physically, to play. My heart was crushed. I felt like God had ripped something beautiful from my hands. I didn’t understand and I was very angry.

Just two years ago, I thought to myself, since it hurts to much to play the violin, maybe I could play the cello. I figured that it would be easier on my hands. So, I rented one. I could not believe how easy it was too play! Here was the instrument that I had wanted to play from the beginning – the one I loved the most. As far as the arthritis was concerned, I was not having problems as my meds were working. Unfortunately, my wrists began to bother me more and more, before I finally had to give up playing the cello. Needless to say, I was crushed again. For a long time my doctor assumed that I had the early stages of carpel tunnel, and that the soft tissue inflammation from the RA was squeezing the nerve, but that was not the case. I was sent for nerve testing, which showed no carpel tunnel. It was then that the diagnosis for Fibro was dumped in my lap. On top of that is severe pain from Osteoarthritis in my right hand, which the doctor told me that I am not to use (yeah, right!). So, it doesn’t look like I’ll be playing much cello or violin. Oh, well. I can still listen, even though it is painful to listen, I still find myself feeling emotions. Music has been an awesome tool in my life when it comes to my healing and surviving.

I came across a poem on the internet many years ago which I found really speaks of my life in so many ways. It was written by Darren Maybee. I’d like to share it with you.

The Violin

Alone and so silent

This lost violin without a bow

That no one has touched

And no one even knows

Trapped in a deaf world

I was locked in my case

Too quiet to hear

The tears crying on my face

Until one lovely morning

My world was opened wide

Angels from Heaven shouted

While silence ran to hide

God’s hands reached deep

And lifted my soul and sin

He cradled me in His arms

Placing my heart to His chin

The comfort I felt

Was like never before

I knew He was the love

I’d been waiting for

He said, “My dear violin

I’ll make you mine

And touch your soul

With music divine”

He took a bloody cross

And made it into a bow

To strike across my soul

To reveal the scars below

For only His cross

Can make this violin cry

When the sins of my past

Remember to lie

For with each painful stroke

Across the bridge of my soul

The blood from His bow

Washed my heart completely whole

Now this violin

Forever will play

Melodies of Heaven

And dreams of eternal days

For the sweetest song

I shall ever sing

Is when Your peace

Caresses my strings.

I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia just this week. The diagnosis explains the chronic pain and fatigue that I have been dealing with for quite a while. I also have Rheumatoid Arthritis which I have been treated for over eight years. Fortunately, the current medication that I am on has slowed the progression of that disease. I also have Osteoarthritis which there really is nothing that can be done for that. I just have to deal with it. The interesting thing about these two diseases (RA & Fibro) is that on the outside I look like nothing is wrong other than my gnarly hands and the long scar on my left leg from a knee replacement. Chronic pain is extremely fatiguing, plus the medication that I take for it causes drowiness among other side effects. Kind of like a double whammy. It is hard for people to understand how debilitating chronic pain can be unless they have walked the road themselves. I may look like I am fine, but I am in constant pain. It even hurts to hold a newspaper. That is the physical pain that I deal with on a daily basis.

Then there is emotional pain. Invisible to others unless I share all that I have been through with them. Even then, many people don’t understand why I just can’t get over “things”. I was diagnoised with Chronic Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder several years ago, but it was only a few months ago that I finally understood just what that meant for me. I spent a month in the hospital in a special trauma treatment program. One of the things that I had to do was list all the things that I have been through. I was blown away when I really looked at that list. It is a wonder that I am alive today.

The thing about PTSD is that certain situations or places or even people can trigger a flashback. The problem for me is that I live in the area that I grew up in. I drive by places that bring back bad memories. I suppose that I could avoid those places, but that would mean that I could not even walk out my front door. I don’t want to be held prisoner for the rest of my life.

The biggest problem is that my emotional pain is invisible to people. Do I share with them all that I have been through or do I just keep my mouth shut? How do I explain that, for today, I feel awful, when I look just fine? It has even been difficult for my husband of thirty-two years to understand the extent of emotional pain that I deal with on a daily basis. It was just this past August when he finally realized what I deal with every day and he broke down in tears for me. That realization for him was a gift from God. He had been in the process of repairing our brick wall when this name popped into his head. Little Tammy. He got to thinking about little Tammy always being hurt by her daddy in the middle of the night. What must have that been like for her to suffer over and over again. It was then he realized the extent the of damage that child abuse can do on a child, and just how difficult it is to deal with it. Tears began to roll down his face. He put down his tools and went looking for me. I was sitting by the pool when he sat down next to me and proceeded to tell me what had happened. We both cried.

So, just how do I deal with both physical and emotional pain? I put one foot in front of the other, with some days being easier than others. I do what I need to do to help myself. If it is physical pain I take my meds, or soak in the spa, or take a nap and curb my activities. If it is emotional pain, I take care of myself by talking to someone, or by writing, or recalling God’s promises to me. One time I was in so much emotional pain that I couldn’t sleep. I had gone upstairs to read my Bible, because I had found that helpful many times, but this time I couldn’t even read. So, I simply laid down on the sofa clutching my Bible to my chest. The best “pain” medication of all comforted me, because I knew that every word was filled with truth and that I could depend on God even when I couldn’t read. I was able to calm down and finally fell asleep.

My faith is what gets me through each day. If I didn’t have the Lord in my life I simply would not be alive today. I would love to hear how God has worked in your life when it comes to dealing with either physical or emotional pain. When we share we find strength to continue walking the road of life.