Dragon's Kin

  “My Father! If this cup cannot be taken away unless I drink it, Your will be done.” Mat 26:42

 

  “Beware that you don’t look down on any of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels are always in the presence of my heavenly Father.” Mat 18:10

 

  This is for Cricket.

  Be with us, Lord.

 

  I have no idea why I woke up. My eyes opened wide, my entire body tensed. I stared at the door, my heart pounding, my dry mouth offering a taste of fear unlike anything I had ever known. I didn’t know the person standing there, silhouetted against the hall light. Maybe hearing his unfamiliar footsteps in the hallway had caused this alert-something-isn’t-right explosive wakefulness.

  I tried to make myself as small as I could, shrinking into my nightgown, wrapping my arms around my shoulders. If I was small enough, he wouldn’t see me. He wouldn’t come any closer.

  Even what? Fifty-four or fifty five years later, the fear still wraps itself around my mind like an unwashed blanket. I can hear Cricket’s silent whimpers.

  Somehow I knew if I cried out, there was no one to hear me. There were none of the familiar, family, night time noises my parents made. I was completely alone with this monster from the closet.

  Terror: the voice stealing, breath choking, extremes of fear filled my little body.

  He came closer, treading stealthily on the hardwood floor.

  Did I close my eyes? I thought if I couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see me. Maybe if he thought I was asleep, he would leave.

  His weight pushed my mattress down. Helpless, my body sagged into the bent springs. Then the monster from the closet touched my arm.

  I fainted.

  But not really. My mind did what was needed to protect itself from things it couldn’t understand. It shut down to protect my sanity.

  Or maybe God’s angels covered my eyes and ears and consciousness with their wings. I’d like to think that’s what He did for me, for Cricket, for a baby girl far too young to have this kind of knowledge. Maybe this is why I had to drink this cup today, to find out where He was when this happened, when I felt so alone. He knew how angry I was with Him on Sunday.

  I don’t know what happened next. I don’t remember. My body does, though, if I listen carefully enough.

  I still can’t describe what took place beyond a certain point. I wasn’t there.

  It doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

  Cricket and I know it did. It’s taken adult me to put it in words.

  There’s power in truth. There’s even more power in knowing what is real and knowing that I know it was real. Far too many times my reality has been downplayed or ignored or minimized.

  Today is a good day. I can finally look Cricket in the face, hold her close and tell her, “You weren’t making the monster up so you wouldn’t have to go to bed. He hurt you, me, us in ways you couldn’t understand. He stole innocence and left fear in its place.”

 

  A friend has mahogany slab doors that have never seen paint. Her house was built in the 1960’s. We’ve been working on painting them. I found the doors to be very unsettling but didn’t understand why. Unsettling isn’t the right word… it is more like having a primal, fangs bared, cat hissing fear itching to take over. 

  It’s the same type of door the closet-monster opened.

  Sometimes our triggers don’t seem to make any sense at all…until they do.

  I have no idea how long I was afraid of the monster in the closet. It went on for quite a while. Nobody else believed there had ever been one. At some point, it relocated to under the bed. (This fear transference happened because I began to believe the closet monster wasn’t real like everyone assured me it wasn’t. The fear he left behind, however, was still alive and kicking.)

  As far as I know, this particular monster never came out of the closet again. There’s a real possibility he was a baby-sitter who had come over after we were asleep so my parents could go out. They must have thought we would never know.

  As an adult, I ruefully smile at my own foolishness; at having to make 100% sure the closet doors are closed before crawling into bed. My foot never hangs over the edge of the bed…my hand doesn’t either, just in case.

  As mentioned earlier, I was very angry at God on Sunday. This grave and vivid memory has been first and foremost in my mind for many days now, warring with “Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus.” That’s why I was angry. If God loves little children, how could He let this happen?

  He couldn’t stop it.

  He was there, though, with Cricket. It’s why we don’t remember everything. That is His blessing, His gift, His loving on us just the way we needed Him to.