Emily's Book Continued
Grandpa has a face that looks just like a man called “Hitler”. He has pop-out eyes and sometimes he paints a little moustache on his face with something black, and combs his hair to one side. He pretends he is this Hitler man.
One time he did that when Mrs. Rundquist was visiting grandma, and she got mad and Grandma got mad too.
Sometimes I thought he really was Hitler, but I found out that Hitler was German, and Grandpa was Swedish, so I knew it was just pretend. I knew Hitler was a very bad man, and Grandpa was a bad man too because he hurt me.
Grandpa has teeth that can come out! On the top, one tooth is pure Gold, just in the front and to one side. I am fascinated for years and years by those teeth that can come out! Grandpa likes nice clothes and Gold rings, and a hanky of real silk in his suit pocket.
He loves to drink this Whiskey from a very beautiful bottle that is shaped like a King’s Crown, and it comes in a beautiful purple bag with yellow drawstrings and yellow tassels. Grandpa gives me one of those purple bags to keep my treasures in, and I like it very much.
In the wintertime we usually got a cold and had to have a “Hot Toddy” before bed. Grandma makes it in a tiny heavy glass, with Grandpa’s Whiskey, it is a beautiful amber color, and strong tasting, and makes me feel sleepy. Grandpa drinks it all year long, even when he doesn’t have a cold.
Grandpa took me out in his boat fishing, and I had my yellow bathing suit on, the one Grandma made for me by cutting down my Mom’s suit and making it smaller.
I had to sit beside him so he could put his hand down the back of my suit and put his finger inside my little hole that is down there. He wiggles it around, and I feel a kind of fire there. Grandpa’s boat is a “Clinker Built” and it is open with no cabin on it. Another boat comes close to us and the people ask us how the fishing is, and I wonder if they can see what Grandpa is doing to me. Grandpa wants to go to the shore so he can do things to me where no one is watching. I am so confused because I am feeling all this hot fire between my legs, and I know that something can be done about it, Grandpa tells me he really, really wants to put his dinky in there, and he tells me Grandma is “frigid”, so he cannot do it to her. He tries everything to convince me that it is okay. I am old enough to know now that this is how babies are made, and I sort of want to have the fire put out, but I don’t want to get pregnant. I say no. I pray to Jesus now. I get through this again!
I am fifteen years old now and I have decided Grandpa is not going to play around with me anymore. I have been thinking that if I were to expose him to the Police that they would indeed believe me. I also know that Grandma would be very hurt by this and the whole family would suffer, so I don’t really want to do that. However, I am no longer willing to put up with his blackmail and vile behavior and I have drawn from within my own being a great strength and resolve to confront him.
It is a very lovely sunny day out, and I know Grandpa is home alone this afternoon, so I say my prayers to Jesus and decide today is the day.
I walk calmly the short distance to Grandma’s house feeling confident, and tell him I am going to the Police to expose him and he had better think carefully about it.
I am only bluffing, of course, because I really don’t want to hurt anyone, especially Grandma, but I am very firm and strong and set to my purpose to end my abuse, and he sees it. He got very, very afraid that day! A few hours later, he got very sick and had to go to Hospital. The Doctor said it was a stroke and Grandpa became partly paralyzed. Soon after, he had a second stroke and things got worse and worse for him, and he became confined to a wheelchair.
Within a very short time, Grandma’s house went up for sale, and all her things went to the second hand store and they moved away to Victoria.
God had surely answered my prayers! My ordeal was over, or so I thought!
I am seventeen now and I have a duty to do. I must go to Victoria, where Grandma and Grandpa now live, to help out. Yes, Grandpa has deteriorated with numerous strokes so that he is completely paralyzed. It is too much work for Grandma alone to care for him now, and I have graduated from High School so I am available to help her.
I love Grandma so much and she needs me, so I cannot say no.
I have not seen Grandpa much for two years now and I am not anxious to be near him.
He has to be in a wheelchair all the time, of course, and he has to be spoon-fed with mushy, liquid food like a baby. He has to wear a bib. He can’t talk anymore.
Grandma is old and tired, and she has to have help with everything.
I feed him and watch the food dribble down his face onto the bib.
I hate him every minute of every day. It is almost unbearable for me to do this.
He has to be bathed. He has to wear diapers. He has to be dressed and undressed. I have to help Grandma carry him to the toilet. He is stiff like a board, and I have to pry his legs open and push his penis down so he can pee.
Oh God, I still have to touch his penis!!!!
It is hell for me; the pressure builds and builds. I feel like I am going to explode with the hatred, the loathing. I can’t stop thinking about all the agony this man put me through for so many years.
Finally, it is more than I can bear. Grandma is out shopping, and I am alone with him. I have to get this out. So I begin to tell him how much I hate him how glad I am that he is in a wheelchair and can no longer touch me. I get so much emotion releasing itself that I yell at him like I have never yelled before. I tell him that he has ruined my life and stolen my childhood and that I hope he rots in Hell.
He may be paralyzed, but his mind is clear, and though he cannot talk anymore, he uses what voice he has to make the most horrible animal screams at me. Even now, he is the Devil Himself and I know if he could raise himself from the wheelchair, he would kill me now. I see Murder in his eyes; those horrible pop-out eyes of his. I hate, hate, hate him! Soon, he will go into Hospital for good.
The last time I saw Grandpa, he was in the Hospital. As I came into the room I saw a very tiny, withered little dried-up looking pitiful being lying there in a bed. He had some little hoses going into his nostrils and his body was covered in open raw flesh that seemed to baffle the Doctors. Somehow, I thought it was just what he deserved, to be suffering that way. I felt no pity for him at all, only a kind of quiet satisfaction that God was taking care of things in the most perfect way. I could see he was suffering, but it seemed like just punishment for all the agony I had gone through at his hands.
I knew it was going to be over soon, and I was happy for Grandma that she did not have to take care of him anymore.
I was soon to leave for Washington D.C., to stay with Auntie Hilda, my Grandmother’s sister, and to go to school there. It was going to be a wonderful time for me, a new beginning.
I arrived in Washington D.C. by air, via Victoria, Seattle, and Detroit. It was a long journey, and I was very inexperienced in traveling alone, yet it was exciting to think of going to a whole new World away from all that I had previously known and experienced.
What I knew about Auntie Hilda was that she was very, very rich, and she knew lots of famous people. I knew she had a home like a mansion and the most beautiful car I had ever laid eyes on, a “Carmen Ghia”. Hilda’s Gwenwood Barber Shop was a place where Actors came to have specialty hair and beard cuts and facial treatments and the like.
When I arrived at Auntie Hilda’s house, my eyes took in a World like nothing I had ever seen before. She opened the front door with one hand, while holding her large glass of White Horse Scotch in the other along with her very large cigar. Her hair was a beautiful Silver-gray and cut just like a man’s. She appeared to me to be wearing men’s clothing, pants, shirt and shoes. I had never seen a woman dress like this before. The cigar was almost unbelievable to be seeing in her hands.
It was like stepping into the movies.
The very first night, before I was even unpacked, Auntie Hilda told me of her plans for my life from that moment on. It was a Friday night, and on Monday I had a date with Larry Hart, one of Auntie Hilda’s friends, who would be taking me out to see the First World Tour of the famous Lipizzaner Horses of Austria. I was extremely shy, and not at all looking forward to a date with a man who I didn’t know. As well the following week would see me enrolled in Business College, the thing farthest from my interests in life. I had no choice at all, nor was I consulted. I was penniless, in a foreign Country, and at the mercy of forces beyond my control, and by the first night was very unsure of what kind of life I was going to have here.
It was only a matter of a few weeks after my arrival in Washington D.C. that we got the news about Grandpa. His Death apparently was cause for great celebration for Auntie Hilda too, though I never really knew why, but she opened a bottle of very expensive Champagne from France for the occasion, and it was my very first taste of real Champagne!
It was great to be home after being away at Auntie Hilda’s for a whole year!
I was so happy to have my old room back, and I went right to the little cedar box to find my pictures of Jesus. I missed them while I was at Auntie Hilda’s. The box was just where I left it, in my bedroom closet, on the shelf, but when I opened it up, it was empty!!! Every one of my precious little cards was gone! Who would take my treasure, and never tell me?
I think I know who took them, it was someone who doesn’t believe in Jesus, I feel so hurt and I want them back so much, but I never see them again.
While I was away going to Business College in Washington, D.C., Grandpa went down with the flesh-eating disease. A perfect end, in my mind, for all the pain he caused.
Grandma paid for the very best funeral for that bastard, with a fancy coffin, even though he was cremated. I heard it cost over three thousand, five hundred dollars. A lot of money in 1961!
My girlfriend Annette and I were in Mom’s kitchen one day, and suddenly she said, “Hey, you want to see your Grandpa?” She whipped around the corner, and hauled out one of two golden boxes from their resting place, behind the refrigerator.
Before I could even say a word, she pushed it towards me, removing the lid, as she was so anxious to show me what he looked like now…
I hadn’t known anything about the boxes, so I was a bit shaken up with this news, but managed to keep under control.
Yes, there was Grandpa! I was amazed!! I always thought the ashes were ashes, but no, these were distinctly bones! Two rather big boxes full of them!
Mind you, the boxes were nice looking,
covered in metallic gold foil.
I guess Grandma paid a lot for those boxes too.
I reached in and picked one of them out, wondering just which part of his body this one was. Years of memories flooded back to me, and I found myself shaking, holding back the tears.
Yes, it takes exactly two cubic feet of space to hold the ugly gray bones of Grandpa.
I wondered, just why they were left behind my Mother’s Refrigerator long after the Funeral. I wondered too, just what would become of them.
Little did I know then, how Mom and I would dispose of Grandpa’s bones.
I have been thinking for a while now how to tell Mom. He is dead now, so it is all right, I guess. He died over a year ago.
I will never tell Grandma, of course.
I need to tell Mom. I need her to know this and help me to sort this out.
What will she think? What will she say? She will love me so much and hold me close, and let me cry in her arms like I need to, won’t she?
Well, now is the time, Mom and I are in the Kitchen, and we are sitting at the table.
So, I start slowly, and I am so emotional; I tell from the beginning, all the things he did to me. It is so hard to tell and I am crying and shaking.
Mom is listening, and she is getting that fierce look on her face.
Mom is not hugging me; she is getting very angry. She tells me that she has hated him for many, many years. She has that look on her face that always frightens me. She says that she has avoided him as much as possible all these years.
She never, ever told Grandma why.
She tells me that when she was a young teenager, he came into their lives as her Mother’s boyfriend, and that he also played his games with her. That she wanted so badly to get away from him that she married my Father to get away.
That was her escape.
It was also why she was such an unhappy wife and Mother; because she did not choose this life; she was just running away. She always resented her life as a Wife and Mother because she felt she gave up the life she really wanted as an Artist and Musician. She was so amazingly talented!
I am in shock!!!!! Oh God!!!! This cannot be true!!! She knew all along?
Oh no! She knew what he was, and she did not protect me? All those years and years of tears, agony and pain and she knew!! It had all been avoidable?
I don’t want to think this, but here is the evidence, right before me. My heart is racing, and I am trying to fathom what is happening here.
My Mother put me in this man’s care, over and over, and over again all throughout my childhood. Why? Why? Why? I am thinking these thoughts as she sits before me, completely oblivious to my pain. She only thinks of her hatred for this man, and nothing of me.
I have to conclude that my Mother doesn’t love me. I am shattered!! My pain is tenfold now.
She never hugs me. I never know if she ever loved me until after her death when she finally asks my forgiveness.
I finally asked Mom about the Golden Boxes behind the Fridge gathering dust for so long now.
Mom and I had this bond now, the two of us bound together in hatred for this man who caused us so much pain in our lives.
He wanted to have his ashes scattered in the waters of the Alberni Inlet where he loved to go Salmon Fishing and catch the biggest Tyee and win the Trophies every year, yes, he did.
Of course Mom was never going to let that happen!
One day Mom decided it was time to get those dusty boxes out and get rid of them once and for all.
So she said we would go for a drive with those boxes, and we did.
It was just the two of us, and we drove in the little 1949 Austin that Mom called “Lizzy” with two golden boxes in the back seat. We drove somewhere past the houses and out into the country a bit, and onto a dirt road.
We found a place where people dumped garbage, and we thought it would be a fitting place to dump Grandpa’s bones. Yes, he was just a pile of garbage now.
We took out the boxes and opened them up, and dumped out Grandpa scattering his bones in amongst all the rotting garbage. We did not keep the boxes, no, we just threw them into the garbage dump too.
One of the few things Mom and I did together in a very long time. I think it was the last thing we really did as a team.
There simply are no words to express the feeling I had driving home, and knowing he was there mixed in with all that rotting garbage, his physical presence gone at last!
The Oldest Virgin
So now, I am twenty years old, and every girlfriend I know is no longer a Virgin. Of course I have sexual desires, but how am I going to start to have sex?
I have been going out with Rudy now for half a year, he is Catholic, so they don’t have sex before marriage, you know.
It took me a while before I found out he was Catholic and that was quite a shock!
I just did not see him on Sundays, and I only found out because we visited his sister, and she had that Catholic Cross on the wall. It worried me no end because Mom always warned me about how bad the Catholics are, and never to get mixed up with any of those “Catholic hypocrites”.
I began to think Mom was a bit off-base there, you know.
But, really, we want to have sex now, at least I think it is time, so I ask Rudy if he will help me out with this. I do love Rudy. He doesn’t want to be the one to de-flower a Virgin though. He thinks I am a Virgin. I think I am too, sort of.
Well, after asking a few times, Rudy decided he could live with not going to Confession. Oh God!! Now I have to feel guilty because he can’t go to confession!
We finally make it to the bedroom. Sexual desire takes over, but I can’t bear to look at his body. I can’t bear to touch his body anywhere near the male parts.
It is two years later before I can actually look at his body. I hardly ever touch it.
We travel to Europe and get married in an elegant Catholic Cathedral to please our families who were dying of embarrassment because we were living in “sin”, even though we both knew the real romance was over.
We gradually slip into less and less frequent sexual intimacy, until our routine is down to somewhere like once a month, and in later years once every three months. When I finally got pregnant, seven years after we met, Rudy refused to believe our son was his. This hurt me more than anyone could ever imagine that he accused me of being unfaithful.
Our son turned out to look very much like his Father.
For some, this next part of my book will be somewhat controversial as I came to my healing through many years of soul searching, studying various religions and Sacred Teachings, and somewhere in all of this I found my own way, as each of us must do, according the their own understanding of God.
This book is not written for any one group or religion, as sexual abuse spans all of humanity.
I ask that you see from the bigger picture and realize that I can only write from my own personal story, yet healing is possible for all and does not have to be in conflict in any way with your own personal understanding of God.
This is how it went for me, personally.
Understanding it all
My childhood Vision of “Being”, “feeling” myself as inter-connected with the “All That Is”, has come back to me, over and over in this lifetime.
I felt so fortunate; to realize at such an early age that there is no death and that the consciousness we are is Eternal.
Just what was that experience? How did that come to me? I kept up the search for answers, learning to do Meditation, going deep within my own being, listening to my “inner voice”, as well as reading, absorbing from my life’s experiences, and seeing a picture form of “how it all is”.
At times, the picture looked one way, but then, as I found new pieces to the puzzle, I had to put some aside, and realized that the picture is ever evolving, changing.
What are we? “We can be likened to being atoms in the body of God”, I read one day.
Now this finally made some sense to me. Gradually, my search revealed to me that there is no separation between beings. Each person is really just a part of the Whole; we can call it “God Principle”.
These were some of the realizations I came to embrace:
Why are we here on Planet Earth? We are here to “experience”. There is no “good” or “bad”. Duality is just an illusion, created in order to make choices. God gave us “free will” and so in order to use our free will, we must be able to choose within a system of duality.
In the sunlight, our body casts a shadow. Is the shadow real? Are there now two of us? Or is the shadow illusion?
There is only one God. We are all part of that One God; therefore, each one of us is just a part of the Whole. There is nothing outside of God.
There is no death, when the physical body is cast aside, as there is really nowhere to go. Death of the body is just birth of the Spirit it its less gross form.
So how did all this fit in to my sexual abuse?
I now realized that I chose to learn lessons, in this lifetime. What a wonderful gift, to learn compassion for others, even if it had to come through personal experience of the pain of sexual abuse! I realized there was no other way to get this knowledge. I had to experience it first hand to be able to reach out to others, and help them heal.
It now became a wonderful thing to realize that all that pain and suffering was not in vain, and that I was a much richer, fuller, being because of it, with so much more to offer others.
It is because of this compassion that I can relate to the pain of others, and reach out to them in this way, sending healing energy from within my own being through writing of my own experiences, and revealing to others the gifts hidden in the pain.
Now, I could forgive my abuser, as I realized he and I co-created this reality in order for both of us to learn and experience, and to grow. I learned “forgiveness” now for my abuser, and compassion also for him.
I found myself speaking directly to him in the Spirit Realm, telling him that I forgave him as I knew he was acting out of ignorance of his own Being and God’s plan for us to live “consciously”.
I looked to the many blessings that came from my own pain and confusion; I had gained so much strength, and Wisdom. I had so much more to offer the World!
In1991, I contacted a well-known Clairvoyant Counselor who was reputed to be able to do “Past Life Readings” and set up a time for her to come to my home to do readings for 4 people on the same day.
She knew very little about me, as we had met only one time previously, and that was for a preliminary reading, as she did not do past life readings on the first visit.
Two persons were ahead of me for readings that day, and so, when my turn came, Katherine was ready for a little break in between. As I waited while she left the room for a moment, I wondered just what would be revealed that day. Never, in my wildest dreams could I have imagined what she would see in my past!!
It is very important for you to know, that Katherine knew almost nothing at all about me, as she did not even live in my Community, and came to my Island home.
Katherine Cooper is a very well known and reputable Clairvoyant Counselor, and gives of herself tirelessly to help others find understanding and relief from their suffering.
As she began, she “saw” me in the U.S.A. and on a farm as a young girl. Now here is where much is revealed, and where I came to have the most wonderful healing, and new understanding of how it all works, in this Universe, so incredible!! So in this lifetime, the woman who was my Mother, Ines, in this present lifetime, was also my Mother in the past lifetime. She was very unhappily married, and the man she was married to was the same man, Axel, who was her stepfather in this lifetime, and my abuser. Because of this unhappy marriage, and lack of love between my Mother and Father, there was not the happy expression of the sexual between them.
My Father was very good to me, and he loved me very much, and I loved him. We spent much happy time together, and my Mother saw this, and was very jealous of the love between my Father and myself. She noticed also, as I became older, that I was attractive, and that perhaps my own Father was attracted to me now in a sexual way. She began to have suspicions about what may pass between my Father and I, and so she began to hate me, and to refer to me as “Jezebel”. It came to a point when my Mother accused my Father of this relationship.
My Father was aware of his own sexual attraction to me, and my Mother’s hatred, and so he made a decision, out of the great love he had for me. He decided to send me away. This was to protect me from his lust that he was not sure he would control as time went on.
I was sent away to live with my Aunt. I never understood why, and so I was very sad to lose the love and companionship of my Father. Also, I never understood why my own Mother hated me, as I had only love, for her…
How this relates to my present life:
In this lifetime, I did not feel much love at all from my own Mother; I thought she did not love me all during my childhood, and in fact, never forgot how she yelled at all three of us children, saying, “You God-damned kids! You have ruined my life, and I wish you all were never born!” This one phrase, spoken in anger, one day has haunted me my entire life. Parents need to realize how one single sentence spoken with force will traumatize a child for life.
I felt, somehow that she must know what was happening to me, and that she was not protecting me, and later, of course, I found that it was the truth.
Jezebel is an unusual name, and it was a favorite of my Mother in this lifetime to call people she suspected as being of loose morals as a “Jezebel”… As I became a young woman, I saw very much, that my Mother resented me. The more I tried to please her, the more she twisted my loving actions into something negative. I never understood why. It was also very evident that she had no love for Grandpa.
Hearing this past-life reading was immensely healing to me, as I realized that this man who was an abuser and caused me so much agony in this lifetime, had only regressed in his “consciousness”, and that in the illusion of time/no time, he does now love me and is now protecting me from his own lust. This was one of the most wonderful revelations for me.
More of the Reading
As we finished this part of the reading, Katherine said to me “My Free Friends are telling me that there is a most important message to come to you today from Spirit and they are asking me to go into Trance as that is the only way this message can come to you”.
And so it was, that Katherine went into Trance, and before my very eyes, the most remarkable transformation came about, both in her form, and in her voice, in her accent, and in her body language. As this
transformation came about, I tried very much to be calm, and pay attention.
The scene was unusual, in that we were sitting directly below a skylight, and the day was extremely stormy, with heavy rain drops pelting furiously down on the skylight, with great force and sound. Sadly, this noise overpowered her voice on the tape that we recorded this reading on.
Katherine allowed the transformation to take place by relaxing and appearing to fall asleep before me. Then, “Johanna” came into her body and took over. “Johanna” said that she had come, to give me a very important message from Spirit, and that this message could not come to me in any other way, so it was.
She said first, “The man whose name you have taken, is here with me”. (I knew immediately that she meant Larry Hart, who was my dear friend who had been killed in a head-on collision in 1981, and whose name I had taken for my own, in his honor. Very, very few people knew of this, and certainly not Katherine.)
She said in the Spirit Realm, Larry Hart was called “Joshua”, and was a great teacher. His message to me was that he did not suffer in the accident of his death, and that he wanted me to know this, and that he was now a teacher in the Spirit Realm, also that he is always with me, and that he will, later in my life, come to me many times, and that when this happens, I will know he is there by a certain “man smell” that I will recognize, and also I will feel as if a “warm shawl is wrapped around my shoulders” at the time he comes to me. (I do know that in this lifetime, Larry Hart was extremely fond of perfumes and flower smells, and would always comment on my perfume, and ask me what it was called… He particularly liked one called “Joy” by Jean Patou that is made from Roses.)
After that, “Johanna” went on to say that there was another message for me, and that it was from my Mother. She said that the way it works, is that in order for the message to come, she had to confer with my Mother’s guides who passed on the message, and “Johanna” was able to link to
Katherine’s vibrations, so that is how the message could come… My Mother could not reach me directly. She said that my Mother would never again meet me in the Earth Plane, as our Karma is finished, so there was no way for her to ask my forgiveness other than this way, through the Trance Medium. She said that she needed my forgiveness for allowing my Grandfather to abuse me, but that it had to be done, and that there was “great purpose” in all that had happened.
(I cannot begin to say, now, how important this message was to me, as all I had been wondering about for many years was finally making sense, and it was very emotional for me.)
“Johanna” went on to explain to me many things, that there are “Soul Families” that work mostly together, and re-incarnate together as family or close friends on this Earth from lifetime to lifetime. She said that occasionally, some members of “Soul Families” interact in important ways with members of other “Soul Families” for lessons that we agree to, before we are born. So, it seems, I was born into a family in this lifetime of persons from another “Soul Family” she also told me that if my Mother had been of my own “Soul Family”, that she would not have been able to allow this sexual abuse to happen to me. (This truly makes sense to me, as I have always felt extremely different from many of my blood relatives, and do not seem to be able to communicate with them).
“Johanna” explained to me that this sexual abuse scenario that happened to me was a kind of “test” and that she wanted me to know that I came through with “flying colors”.
(Now at this time, I feel that the success is that I was able to follow through with agreements made before birth that are often “forgotten” because of the veiling process that naturally occurs in birth as a human.)
There was much more to this extraordinary meeting, but does not relate to this story, so I leave it out.
A Letter to Grandpa
Today, I am writing a book all about you and me.
You used your “free will” to create a reality of your liking, and you enjoyed yourself.
I used my “free will” to create a reality not of my liking, and I suffered greatly.
Now, I know it was not an accident; we were co-creators in this reality in order to learn, to grow, and to “be more conscious”.
Your gifts to me were many, though I did not know it at the time.
You allowed me to learn to have faith in God, to be patient, to persevere, and to be very, very strong, you gave me the opportunity to learn compassion, and forgiveness.
I am almost completely healed now, and so, I have this gift to give to the World of wounded and suffering people.
I give them hope that they too may be healed, and I give them love and understanding from the “inside view”.
I couldn’t have written this book that I hope so much will be of value to many, if not for you.
So, thank you Grandpa, for your strange love,
Little Anne Lea
The Present Moment
The most important part of this writing is the link between the events of my childhood and the present moment.
A childhood overshadowed by loneliness and despair, fear and loathing converted into forgiveness, compassion and inner peace. How did this transformation come about? And how best can this writing help those who have been damaged by this kind of abuse?
In the search for answers as to why my own life experiences went the way they did, I studied many teachings, and slowly a picture formed of how it all is.
The first major turning point for me was when I truly connected with the Christ Consciousness through looking into the eyes of Jesus in those little Holy Cards at about age eight. He came alive to me through my love for Him and my prayers to Him for help. He gave me hope and courage. His guidance led me to the greater understanding of life on Planet Earth. We are all in this together and we have choices each and every moment, for this moment is truly all there is.
When Jesus came to me, I knew I was not alone.
All things are interconnected. God is everywhere. Every thread woven into the cloth of Existence is God-permeated.
To dwell on the past is to bring it into the present where it does not have to be, it is up to us to see that leaving the past behind is freeing us up to feel the joy of this present moment.
A great deal of my childhood was stolen from me, but I did not have to stand in the shadow of pain once I realized I could change it into a gift.
Re-living the pain of abuse over and over again continues to rob us of the present.
I came to realize that in order to be the person I am today and have the depth of understanding and Compassion for others that I do; I had to go through what I did. In that realization, came the freedom and the joy of knowing that there was purpose, after all, to the years and years of suffering I went through.
Forgiveness had to come first. I was only able to forgive when I understood that my abuser had no idea he was really abusing himself. This was the key for me. We are all part of one being; therefore to hurt another is to hurt one's self. As long as we see each other as separate beings, the healing cannot begin.
Once we realize this fully, the healing can be instant. Only when we are healed can we help others to cut through the illusion of separateness.
Reading the Conversations with God series of books by Neale Donald Walsch was a pivotal point for me. Suddenly, all the teachings I had studied all those years gelled into one.
In Conversations with God, Book 3 I read words that clearly indicated to me that to keep this all to myself was not the way to help others. We all have “free will” to share, or not to share. To share this story is to expose myself to the unknown, yet to keep it to myself is to deny what I feel is my gift to humanity. If this writing prevents the abuse of one child it is worth it all.
My gift is God’s gift to you.