Little Girl Pain

My Dear Friends,

I shared some time ago that I was reading Dr. Phil’s book, "Self Matters." Well, the truth is I haven’t touched that book in months. I got stuck at the part where I had to go back in time and remember significant moments.

I couldn’t figure out why I was stuck. I knew there were no monsters in my past. I knew there was nothing to be afraid of. So I decided that it must be the 40 plus years of memories to sift through. Looking at that task was exhausting so I dropped it.

Thankfully God didn’t drop me. Through a series of unrelated events that really irritated me, God was able to peel back the layers of denial and self preservation to expose the truth.

There was something in my past that I didn’t want to look at. Something I didn’t want to deal with. I had been circling around it, examining it, rationalizing it, but never feeling it.

My problem is that I am "invisible." My parents may have loved me but they never "saw" me. You see, they themselves were "invisible." It is very hard to "see" others when no one "sees" you.

Part of my dilemma was a question I didn’t know how to answer. How do you hold someone responsible for hurting you when you know they didn’t hurt you on purpose? How could I hold my parents accountable for being "bad" parents when I know that my grandparents were also "bad" parents?

I’ve been emotionally detached for a long time, not wanting to blame my parents for my problems. My problems are my problems. Because I could explain my parents’ poor parenting skills, I didn’t think it was fair to be mad at them for hurting me. I was more invested in taking care of their feelings than I was my own.

This is not something I’ve already gone through. This is something I am in the middle of dealing with right now. I dearly love my parents and I truly understand and sympathize with the reasons for their dysfunction.

Never the less, I have chosen to finally hold them accountable for my pain. I have asked God to give validity to my feelings, to give me a healthy, non - destructive anger over this loss. I want to be able to grieve and then to heal. I want to finally be able to "grow up."

There’s a Country Western song that was popular a few years back. I don’t remember the name of the song or the artist. But it talked about a little girl hiding behind a couch one night while her parents were killing each other. Later her foster parents took her to Sunday School and the teacher was talking about Jesus. The little girl, who’d never been to church or heard of Jesus before, said, "I know him. He came and held me behind the couch that night."

Although my parents would never dream of killing each other, I have been "hiding behind the couch" my whole life. I was waiting to see if they would "miss" me and come "looking" for me. But they never came.

And the message the "little girl" in me got from my parents was that I wasn’t important enough to "miss" or to "look" for. The only one who came looking for me was Jesus. He’s been behind the couch with me the whole time.

Does this sound familiar to you? Are you "invisible?" Do you rationalize your pain? Are you hesitant or even afraid to be angry with your parents for the pain they caused you?

I believe that God has great things in store for me - and for you. But you and I need to go back to the source of our pain and be honest with ourselves. We need to allow ourselves to feel the pain.

If you are also hiding, I want you to know that someone should have "missed" you. They should have come "looking" for you. You and I deserve to be "seen."

The good news is that Jesus "sees" you. Jesus "missed" you and came "looking" for you. Wherever you are hiding, he is with you right now. He sees the pain the you are afraid to acknowledge.

As for me..........well, like I said, I’m right in the middle of this. I don’t have all the answers, but I have Jesus. In the last part of Joshua 1:5, he promised, "...I will not fail you or abandon you."

So I hold on to Jesus and believe that my future is bright. I know he loves me. He found me when no one else knew I was missing.

Thanks for listening,

Sarah