A Voice
Once upon a time there was a little girl, and she was small for her age, often sick and not very strong. She played by herself mostly, in her room, or on long walks in the neighboring woods. She was pretty content to spend hours alone, and only once in awhile wished for a friend.
But all too often, her solitude was broken by her brother. He was older, and much bigger and stronger. When he wasn't off doing his own thing, he loved to torment his little sister. His favorite amusement was to hold both her wrists in one of his massive hands, and with the other hand, he would poke, pinch and slap her around until she was crying and begging to be let go. And he would laugh and scorn and mock her crying. Or, he would "play" a game with her; a sinister game of inappropriate touching. And she lived in fear and dread and shame.
Afterward, she would be filled with feelings of helplessness and loneliness and unworthiness. She was a nobody with no voice, no one to stick up for her. A little girl who no one seemed to notice, a little girl whose spirit was being crushed.
Somewhere along the way, someone told her that there was a way to bring a boy down with one kick to a certain part of his body. The little girl wasn't too sure about that, but one day, while enduring yet another round of torment at the hands of her brother, something in her snapped. And before she knew what she was doing, she kicked him. Bulls eye! Down he went, screaming and crying, the bully, writhing on the ground. He was almost pitiful. Almost. Suddenly, the little girl had power over her tormentor. She had power over her own person. As she stood over him, terrified yet triumphant, she felt things she had never felt before.
And that lasted all of five minutes or so. Mother swooped onto the scene and asked the brother what had happened. He whimpered a reply and pointed weakly and angrily at his sister. How could she have done such a thing, she was asked. How dare she? The little girl was severely chastised for what she had done, and was told she was never to do that again. And as Mother picked up her wounded son to take him into the house to comfort him, the little girl was left outside alone. Alone with her thoughts. Guilt for being a bad girl. Sadness for incurring the displeasure of her Mother.
But more than that, and far more subtly, was a feeling that lasted long after that day. She somehow knew that defending herself was no longer an option; that she was not worth the trouble of defending. That she was at the mercy of those who were bigger, stronger, smarter. And that there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say. She had no voice. And that's just the way boys were, she was told. All brothers are like that. And she believed it. And even if she had a voice, there was no one to hear. And so she endured more years of abuse, and the abuse turned sinister. And then, mercifully, it ended.
And the little girl grew up, believing she was worthless, believing she had no voice. But then, she became a mother. And she saw the world differently. The way it should be. And she realized she had to protect her children from each other and teach them how to behave toward one another. She made sure her boys treated their sisters with gentleness and respect. That when a girl says 'no' or 'stop' they were to stop immediately or suffer the consequences. She made sure to tell her girls that they were allowed to protect themselves in any way they could.
She made a very unpopular decision concerning her brother. She broke ties with him to protect her own children. So unpopular, that already fragile relationships crumbled. She had incurred displeasure from her family, but she no longer felt guilt or shame. She had found her voice.
The little girl's feelings of unworthiness and loneliness? They were taken care of by a saving relationship with Christ and reinforced by a husband that believed her and believed in her and has her back always, and by the love she receives daily from her children. Children who are far from perfect, but who are learning to love and protect one another. Children who are learning to cherish and respect one another, and build relationships that will last their lifetimes. And these children and this man and her Savior have filled her life and heart and healed her. And she has a voice.
But all too often, her solitude was broken by her brother. He was older, and much bigger and stronger. When he wasn't off doing his own thing, he loved to torment his little sister. His favorite amusement was to hold both her wrists in one of his massive hands, and with the other hand, he would poke, pinch and slap her around until she was crying and begging to be let go. And he would laugh and scorn and mock her crying. Or, he would "play" a game with her; a sinister game of inappropriate touching. And she lived in fear and dread and shame.
Afterward, she would be filled with feelings of helplessness and loneliness and unworthiness. She was a nobody with no voice, no one to stick up for her. A little girl who no one seemed to notice, a little girl whose spirit was being crushed.
Somewhere along the way, someone told her that there was a way to bring a boy down with one kick to a certain part of his body. The little girl wasn't too sure about that, but one day, while enduring yet another round of torment at the hands of her brother, something in her snapped. And before she knew what she was doing, she kicked him. Bulls eye! Down he went, screaming and crying, the bully, writhing on the ground. He was almost pitiful. Almost. Suddenly, the little girl had power over her tormentor. She had power over her own person. As she stood over him, terrified yet triumphant, she felt things she had never felt before.
And that lasted all of five minutes or so. Mother swooped onto the scene and asked the brother what had happened. He whimpered a reply and pointed weakly and angrily at his sister. How could she have done such a thing, she was asked. How dare she? The little girl was severely chastised for what she had done, and was told she was never to do that again. And as Mother picked up her wounded son to take him into the house to comfort him, the little girl was left outside alone. Alone with her thoughts. Guilt for being a bad girl. Sadness for incurring the displeasure of her Mother.
But more than that, and far more subtly, was a feeling that lasted long after that day. She somehow knew that defending herself was no longer an option; that she was not worth the trouble of defending. That she was at the mercy of those who were bigger, stronger, smarter. And that there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say. She had no voice. And that's just the way boys were, she was told. All brothers are like that. And she believed it. And even if she had a voice, there was no one to hear. And so she endured more years of abuse, and the abuse turned sinister. And then, mercifully, it ended.
And the little girl grew up, believing she was worthless, believing she had no voice. But then, she became a mother. And she saw the world differently. The way it should be. And she realized she had to protect her children from each other and teach them how to behave toward one another. She made sure her boys treated their sisters with gentleness and respect. That when a girl says 'no' or 'stop' they were to stop immediately or suffer the consequences. She made sure to tell her girls that they were allowed to protect themselves in any way they could.
She made a very unpopular decision concerning her brother. She broke ties with him to protect her own children. So unpopular, that already fragile relationships crumbled. She had incurred displeasure from her family, but she no longer felt guilt or shame. She had found her voice.
The little girl's feelings of unworthiness and loneliness? They were taken care of by a saving relationship with Christ and reinforced by a husband that believed her and believed in her and has her back always, and by the love she receives daily from her children. Children who are far from perfect, but who are learning to love and protect one another. Children who are learning to cherish and respect one another, and build relationships that will last their lifetimes. And these children and this man and her Savior have filled her life and heart and healed her. And she has a voice.
Praise God for His redeeming love and work in your life!
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