One in Three

  “They come out at night, snarling like vicious dogs as they prowl the streets. Listen to the filth that comes from their mouths; their words cut like swords. “After all, who can hear us?” they sneer. But Lord, you laugh at them. You scoff at all the hostile nations.

  You are my strength; I wait for you to rescue me, for You, O God, are my fortress. In His unfailing love, my God will stand with me.” Ps 59:6-10

  “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” 1 Cor 6-8

 

  What can I say? It was a teddy bear kind of day. Fuzzy comfort eased the chill in my soul and body that the furnace was unable to touch. Setting Bear on a kitchen chair so he could watch, Cricket sat and painted before our Abba Father.

  The low, ash gray clouds poured out God's tears for His daughters, His children, His beloved. His tears rained down for the ones who do tremendous and lasting damage.

  Many different things came to mind as painting number twenty-one began to take shape. I am not bored with the image even though it’s been repeated so often. Boredom is a sign I have taken the lead from God and am pushing my own agenda onto the process. When God says, “It is finished,” it will be.

  I thought about how my body remembers what happened even if my mind doesn’t. It’s like when an amputee has an itchy hand that is no longer there. The nerves remember when the hand existed. I wish my body didn’t remember when someone’s soul was tied to mine.

  As the image of the little girl holding a teddy bear took shape, Cricket remembered the hands that hurt, specifically the monster from the closet. The baby-sitter’s forced intimacy left a piece of him behind.

  It left me feeling very dirty but it’s the kind of dirt a shower will never wash away. It’s the kind of dirt only a victim of abuse can see and feel. Our souls have been soiled with invisible filth.

  Over the years I have stood under a scalding shower and prayed that somehow I would feel clean. That was before I learned about soul ties. The shower became the place to speak the names of people my soul had been tied to through forced intimacy and assault. I said the names of people who had gotten close because of my consent, my desperate search for love in all the wrong places.

   I gave them back the piece of them they gave to me. I reclaimed the piece of my soul that was not theirs to keep.

  It was surprising to find there were women in the mix as well; women who had become attached to my soul through no fault of their own.

  It’s like having a spiritual STD.

  Even if I wasn’t able to name them, pieces of other women who had been intimate with the men involved were attached to me. I gladly returned what wasn’t mine to have.

  These women, too, had a piece of my soul needing to be reclaimed.

  As God led me through this gathering together and restoration of my soul to its rightful owner, I stopped feeling so thin, so vaporous, so translucent.

  God used repentance and forgiveness like a body wash. That’s part of it, too. He showed me where this was needed to complete the process of reclamation. Bear was my witness a lot of the time when we had these difficult conversations.

  Forgiveness was frequently spoken through clenched teeth, with a bitter and angry heart. Sometimes it still is that way. God honors the verbal sacrifice offered to Him in speaking His language of love. 

  I give the anger to God because He is the only one who can change how I feel. It’s an ongoing and wonderful process especially when, “I forgive,” means just that. Some days I can, some days, not so much. Some days forgiveness happens but a few days later dives right back into anger mode. God knows my heart and my deepest desire to want to be forgiving. Forgiveness is giving someone else's soul to God.

  Now the shower is for when I am visibly dirty. My skin is eternally grateful.

  My body still has memories although they have grown less powerful. I wonder…does the forced creation of unwelcomed soul ties create another layer of trauma? Well, yes! Spiritual and emotional trauma creates the greatest damage. Our bodies can heal from injury far quicker than our soul…most of the time.

  Lord, be with the women and children whose bodies have been and will be irrevocably damaged by violence, hate, and evil.

  Thank you, Lord, for reminding me about soul ties. It’s an ongoing process as things come into the light. It’s important to tie up loose ends because breaking soul ties doesn’t only heal me; it helps restore other souls even if they are unaware of what’s happening.

 

  The hands holding the child in today’s image belong to women. The photo reference I used was of a teddy bear cuddling, blond, fair skinned child. I made her hair brown and her complexion darker for a reason. It’s not just fair-skinned, blonds who are subjected to abuse. It’s not just women of colour. It’s not just the young, or the old or the beautiful.

  It’s one in three. This number is what binds so many of us together.

  The sisterhood of experience is creating a force for good unlike anything evil has ever faced since Christ laid down His life for us.

  Until very recently, the statistic was one in four. Filthy, evil secrets are being exposed and talked about. There is still a long way to go. There are still prejudicial and ignorant attitudes about victims of sexual abuse. The police have much to learn.

  These are the terrible and unthinkable odds that proclaim the truth for many women shaped by abuse and trapped in its vicious cycle: thirteen or thirty or three hundred to one.

  Heaven is still crying today.