...treasure in earthen vessels....

Let me share today with you about a time in my life when I was hurt by someone I trusted very much. At the age of around six, I was so innocent. My parents were still together, and the life I lived then was carefree, no worries. At that age, if you are lucky,you think that the world is there to revolve around you, and that no one would intentionally hurt you. Up until that point, I felt that way. My family lived in a small home, and we struggled to pay the bills. My uncle needed somewhere to stay while he was in town from time to time, so, of course, he was welcome. I loved and trusted him. He was not very loving, but he was fun. I remember poker nights around the kitchen table, smoke and laughter all around the table, watching my mother laugh and be silly. He would sometimes nap in our living room during the day, and sometimes in the hot summers, we would all nap in that room, if for no other reason than to pass the time away. I remember details of this experience because it was such a change in my worldview within a few short minutes. There were two couches in that room. Green, and soft velvet, I remember being fascinated by how they attached the buttons on the backs of those couches. We would pull the cushions off, stack them on the floor, and just go crazy. My brother and I would bounce and jump until we fell out in laughter. I loved those couches. That was the room our Christmas tree was always in, and was associated with happy times. One summer day, all that changed for me. My father was sleeping in his room, I think he worked a late shift, so he was tire in the middle of the day. My brother and I wanted to play outside that day, but my uncle insisted that we take a nap instead. My brother was instructed to lay on one couch, and my uncle and I on the other. I remember thinking at the time that I felt special, laying on his big tummy, resting my little head on his chest. I felt safe there....for about two minutes. That day I was wearing a pink jumpsuit, sleeveless and short, it buttoned up the front. As his hands rested on my back,I was in what I thought was a place of protection. In all reality, my innocence was about to be robbed in the next hour or so. I hesitate to go into much detail here, I will suffice it to say that he began to sexually molest me. I was frightened, and when I tried to get up, he squeezed me tight, saying, 'Where do you think you are going?' I quietly replied, 'Outside to play'. His response was to continue touching me, squeezing me harder, he said, 'You're not going anywhere'. My brother was pretending to sleep on the next couch, but I knew he was awake. I remember looking at him, pleading with my eyes for him to help me. He was only six or seven at the time, but his mind was frantic to try to help. He saw what was happening, and although neither of us understood it, we both knew it was evil. He gathered his courage and pretended to wake up. He stood up. My uncle paused. 'I need some water', my brother said, and he left the room. HE LEFT ME! I was horrified. Now I was alone with this person I once trusted,but who had now become my attacker. He wouldn't let me move. What I didn't realize was that at moment my brother was in the kitchen looking at the butcher knife. He was seriously considering rushing to my rescue. Instead, he was level headed enough to rush to my father's room screaming,'Daddy! Daddy! He's raping her!'. I didn't know what that meant, but it worked. My uncle literally threw me across the room, I landed on a heap on the carpet. He was sitting on the couch, flustered, and red faced, a look of shock on his face. The rest of this memory is a blur, but I remember a lot of yelling from my dad, a lot of nothing from my uncle, and finally, dropping him off after a short drive to the interstate. When my mom got home that day, she cried and cried. She let me sleep with her that night, and she held me tight, crying and grieving for my lost innocence. That was a hard day for all of us. The result of this was a torn family. I still to this day cannot be in the room alone with him. I say I have forgiven him, but how can you tell? I will never forget that day, and writing this has reduced me to tears, even though this happened almost thirty years ago. All of that to say this...If you have been a victim of a similar situation, I can say with a surety that you will not heal by holding it inside. You will not heal by not letting it affect you. I still pray for help from the Lord to forgive Him. I believe God wants me to be compassionate toward him now that I am an adult. He is lost, and God loves him just as much as He loves me. He made a choice that day that was evil, selfish, and destructive. I will not let it destroy me. The experience that day opened my eyes to the evil in this world. It was not my fault, there was nothing I could do to escape or prevent it. I take comfort in the promise of my salvation. God can use me, He is using me. My past is exactly that. It is not my future. I have been cleansed and forgiven. I pray that one day I can say with confidence that I never tried to hide my past. My past is a sparkling treasure He has given me to share.