Blessed to be Broken

I recently watched the movie The Burning Bed. It’s based on the true story of the years long domestic violence suffered by Francine Hughes.

It’s not the first time I heard of this movie. It first appeared in 1984, so it’s been around the block a few times.

It was however, the first time I could bring myself to watch it. Mind you, I had to check with my spirit to see if it would be something I could handle.

Let’s give a little backstory to the why behind it, shall we?

I don’t share this for pity. I don’t share this for opposition. I share this for awareness. I share this so you can know the healing power of God.

Generations of my family tree suffered the effects of domestic violence, drug and alcohol addiction, sexual, mental, and emotional, abuse.

If this were a game, I guess you’d yell Yahtzee at this point for scoring all the points. Go us! NOT!

That’s the thing about family trees, you never know what kind of fruit is hanging from those branches.

Back in my growing up days, that being the 60s and 70s, the law was not domestic violent helpful. At least, not to the ones being abused.

Phrases like, “We didn’t witness him abusing you,” (caught in the act), so to speak. “Let him sleep it off.” “It’s your word, against his,” despite the obvious physical marks.

Obviously, I could go on and on. But, where am I going with this? So glad you asked.

In the Burning Bed, Francine had three children. Her in-laws lived close by. They knew the score.

They knew because they witnessed first hand the abuse she suffered at the hands of their son. Yet, their “help” to her was ignoring who their son had become.

They made excuses for him all the while blaming her for not tolerating his abhorrent behavior.

You know who else suffered at the hands of this “man”? The children.

They saw things they never should have seen. Heard things they never should have heard. They inhaled the abuse, and it attached itself to their body, their minds, and every fiber of their being.

They didn’t know any other way of living.

There were so, so many similarities in that movie reminiscent of my own upbringing.

As I watched the movie, I felt sort of numb, until I got angry at the people who covered up the abuse. The people who ignored the abuse, The people who made excuses for the abuse. I still get all twisted up about it.

At the time, the “system” wasn’t set up to help women get away from their abusers.

To be honest, I don’t know if it’s much better today. Especially when I read accounts of women and children still dying at the hands of their abusers.

Don’t get me wrong, I know women can be equally guilty of abusing men and children. It’s a sad state of affairs when the children suffer a world into which they had absolutely no control over being brought into.

Over and over again, we held onto hope that our dad would change his ways. Over and over again, we were disappointed. Over and over again, we inhaled the toxic stench of abuse.

Excuses were part of our family make-up. Allowances that would later prove to be detrimental to our psyche in more ways than one.

My mother would always say, “If he would just stop the drinking,” everything would be okay.

As if stopping the drinking and prescription drug abuse would address the underlying demons that drove him to self-harm in the first place.

My dad died at the age of 45. My mom? She’s still among the living. They divorced when I was 18 years old.

She remarried another abuser within months. She never gave herself any time to heal in between.

Funny, not in the ha-ha sense, I used to “depend” on her for healing, forgetting she was part of the problem.

Placing your healing into the hands of your abuser is like drinking poison, and expecting it not to harm you.

It just doesn’t work. It keeps the abuse alive, and your body in a state of anxiousness, and dread as you relive the memories over, and over. There’s no good in that.

Ok, so let’s wrap this up. As I came to the end of myself at the ripe ol age of 48, Jesus stepped in with great grace, forgiveness, mercy, and love, with an arms wide open invitation.

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” ~ Matthew 11:28-30 (The Message)

He extends that same invitation to you. That’s the thing about invitations though, isn’t it? You don’t have to accept. You can totally decline.

Which, I did. For years. I may have been a victim to my childhood abuse but my healing, well, that’s totally up to me.

It’s digging into the hard places of acceptance, compassion, grace, grief, anger, and forgiveness.

It’s releasing blame, and acknowledging that yes, my abusers had faults, but I’m not responsible for their behavior, their healing, or their acceptance. That’s way too big a burden for anyone to carry.

It’s learning to take every single thing, no matter how small, and talking to Jesus. It’s trusting that what His Word says is true, and it’s having faith that He will keep His promises.

It’s a daily process. And I’m living proof that as I breathe in more of His character, it chips away at the toxic parts of me that are not of Him.

I used to hide under the umbrella of my family secrets. You, know, the “nobody talks about Bruno” kind of secrets. (That’s from the movie Encanto)

But, now, I know by the telling of my testimony AND the blood of the Lamb is the way others can come out from the darkness and into His LIGHT.

I don’t know what your story is, but rest assured, God does. He sees your heart. He sees your pain. He just straight up, sees you.

It’s ok to come out from the shadows. Lord knows if I can tell the deepest, darkest, parts of me out loud, you can too. There’s so much freedom in the release.

You may not know it now, but someone out there needs to hear your story.

And from personal experience the helping of someone from the pain of my past helps me to know God truly won’t let my pain go to waste. He’ll use it all up for the good and the glory of His Kingdom. Can I get an amen?!

And with that, I hope you all have a most excellent day! God bless you.