God Winks

Webster's defines a wink as the shutting of one eye briefly as a signal.  It's kind of a joke in our family that I can only wink one eye, but not the other.  There have been had a handful of times around our family dinner table where the kids and Mat will each demonstrate their winking skills and then laugh at me as I try.  What can I say?  Our family excels in sarcasm and teasing, but that's no surprise to anyone who has met us...especially my husband and oldest son.  With all that being said though, I think of winking as a sign of endearment.  Since we began first dating, Mat and I have used winking at each other, albeit with my left eye only, to let one another know we are thinking about each other.  We often wink at each other across the room, over the dinner table, or in a situation where we know the other might be uncomfortable.  It's a gesture of affection, friendship, and even love in my mind. 

When I began seeing a therapist recently (which is a hard thing for me to even say, but that's a whole other blog post), and was sharing with her just how desperate I was feeling to hear and feel the voice of God, she told me about a book called When God Winks at You.  I was intrigued as she shared with me that it was full of short everyday circumstances where God often "winks" at us through what we might think of as a coincidence.  Because I have been doing a lot of reading and journaling, that I ranked of higher importance, I have not yet read this book, but there is a whole God Wink Series, by Squire Rushnell, that I really look forward to checking out in the very near future! 

This past week though, I experienced what is a total "God Wink" in my book, and I just had to share.  Not too long ago, I don't think I would have necessarily recognized God's hand in this, but he was certainly all over it, in my opinion.  Last Thursday, Mat and I went out to dinner along with our three children and one neighbor child.  We'd had a big thunder storm roll through late that afternoon, leaving us without power for awhile, we were stir crazy, not too motivated to make dinner, and just felt like doing something easy.  We took all the kids and went to a local pizza place.  It was so crowded though that there was quite a wait, but there were four open spots at the bar.  We plopped the kiddos on stools at the counter, and Mat and I stood behind them.  We really did have a great time....everyone was happy, we were laughing, being affectionate, and I mean really...when there is pizza, wine, and family it's a good trio of happiness, even if you are squished in a crowded restaurant!  I did happen to notice a man at the end of the counter who was by himself and appeared to be waiting on a to-go order.  He was standing, and I remember thinking poor guy has been there a long time, his food must really be taking forever.  That's all I remember though until a server came and let us know that a man who had left recently had paid for our entire meal.  He had given her his business card, as it pertained to their discussion apparently, and then she passed it on to us.  We had never experienced anything like this before, and we were both just really honored that he had done this.  I may have even shed a few happy tears right then and there...maybe.  ;)  I mean, really....to choose a group of 6 to pay for their meal and drinks is a pretty loving act in my book! 

Because we had his business card, I took the opportunity to email him the next day and just thank him for his act of kindness and briefly share with him how much it meant to us.  He responded the following day and completely out of the blue shared with me that he had recently retired from the sheriff's office after 28 years as a detective, most spent on sexual assault cases.  So this is where that part of me for a second thinks "wow, that's a crazy coincidence", and then my heart feels that little flutter and I know it's God's way of winking at me letting me know he sees me, he believes me, and he loves and cares for me.  This man could have not responded at all, or he could have just said a simple "you're welcome," or really anything at all, but for some reason he felt the need to share that with me and that when he saw my family and I that night that he felt like it was something he needed to do.  Those feelings happen to us for a reason, and I am so thankful he listened to that feeling last Thursday, because besides the obvious joy of a free meal, he really brought God's voice to life for me. 

Her Story and Genesis 50:20

In my last post, I shared that during my first week away at college, I was required to attend a freshmen convocation, which ended up being a speaker named Katie Koestner.  Her bravery was life changing for me. 

Katie Koestner 
Read a great, quick, overview of her here!  She was so influential in even bringing the term "date rape" to light, and if there's nothing else I take away from her, it's this...

While I was still in college, I started going to high schools and telling young people about what happened to me to try to save them from going through what I had. Then I just felt like I couldn't stop and I've kept going these past 25 years.

You should see their tears. They hug you, they write notes, they tell their secrets and that is all worth it. Every time I make myself tell my story, there are 10, 20, 30 more stories that are told.

I tell young people that they are the generation that can change the conversation. It must be, "I am never too important to ask for someone else's consent," and, "I must always expect respect from everyone I am with," so expect respect and ask for consent.

That was me.  I was one of those girls with the tears.  I was one of the girls that wrote her a letter, sharing my secret.  I never imagined I was just one of many, and although perhaps I wasn't ready to change the conversation out loud at the time, I was ready to change it in my head, and now here I am many, many years later ready to change it out loud as well.  

She's right though, in that for so long people have typically thought of rape as a woman attacked in a dark alley late at night by some total stranger dressed all in black.  And while that happens as well, and would be an absolutely terrifying and horrible event, date/acquaintance rape is happening at a much higher rate and the statistics are staggering.  By the age of 18, 1 in 3 women have been sexually assaulted.  Anyone reading this can think of a small handful of women they know and quickly figure the odds.  The thing about this particular type of sexual assault is that not only have you lost trust in another person, but you've also lost some trust in yourself.  The therapist I'm currently seeing helped me make this connection, and I really found it powerful.  When someone you know and thought you trusted breaks that for you on such an intimate and deep level, you question your own judgement.  "How did I let my guard down or trust someone like that?"  "What does that say about me??"  Questions I still struggle with to be honest.  

The night I posted my original blog post, I did so with a knot in my stomach.  It was completely me stepping out in faith with the nudging that someone, somewhere was meant to hear it.  It was meant to free me, in some way, from beginning to stop hiding this.  It was meant to be one step in the direction of rediscovering my worth, letting go of some shame, and praying that someone else needed me to step out and remind them they are not alone.  I won't lie....it took a little liquid courage to push that "publish" button.  I even woke up in a panic that night scared that I had said too much, and needed to take it down.  The results though, to me, were completely reassuring that God is stirring something deep inside and it's not to be ignored.  Their stories are not mine to tell, but I was quickly faced with the obvious realization, that I am not alone in this.  There are others, and I'm sure for each one that did reach out to me, there are several more that did not.  People are hurting and carrying a burden that was not ever meant to be theirs to be carried.  I am figuring this all out one step at a time.  I'm often weak and feel so far from brave myself, but if me sharing the ugly secrets of this can help one other person rediscover their worth and their relationship with God, and just remind them that they are not alone, then it will all be worth it.

Cut to the Chase

So, there's no proper etiquette that I know of for just dropping something like this, but I am just going to cut right to the chase as to why I have even started this blog.  I'll be sharing more of my story, its impact on my life, and why it's brought me to this point.  No need to beat around the bush though or try to draw it out.  I'm jumping in with a power and a purpose (if you stick it out with me), so here it goes...

A little over 20 years ago, I unfortunately experienced acquaintance rape.To be honest, I didn't even totally realize it at the time.  Down deep perhaps, but not at the surface level.  I was mostly scared, disappointed in myself, and not even really sure what to think or where to go from there.  I was in physical and emotional pain but pretended I wasn't, and moved forward.  The few months that followed are a bit of a blur.  I lived a carefree lifestyle as probably many 17 year olds do, with little regard to my feelings or sexuality, kept focused on school, dance, partying and getting into a college, and all while trying to wrap my head around (or maybe ignore) the fact that my mom was being diagnosed with cancer.  I'd been a pretty good and reliable kid up until this point, but not exactly daughter of the year by now.  Looking back, I know I was breaking inside, but from the outside it looked like I was living it up and doing it all with a smile on my face.

Fast forward even more, and about nine months after the assault, I met and began dating the man that would eventually become my husband.  We dated for about six months until I went off to college.  He was in Missouri, while I went away to Florida.  Helllo, long distance!  He was totally different than anyone I'd been interested in before, and he was my first serious long-term boyfriend.  I left for college feeling pretty positive that we could make it despite the miles.  My freshmen orientation week, the college required us to go listen to a speaker in the auditorium.  Her name was Katie Koestner.  I'll remember the sound of her voice forever.  She stood on the stage and told her story.  Tears were streaming down my face, as I sat quietly in my chair just listening.  I was completely overcome with emotion and surrounded by people I'd only met less than a week earlier.  Her story sounded all too familiar.  It was in that moment that I truly realized that I had been raped that horrible night over a year ago.  I went back to my dorm room, crying to my new roommate (God bless her, she probably wondered what she was in for), and then wrote my boyfriend a letter.  I had to tell someone, and remember how I mentioned I am soooo much better at writing than at speaking?  Well, there ya go...perfect example. I even remember the light blue stationary with the jagged edges on which I wrote it.  I don't remember if it was later that day, or the next day, but I remember reading my letter, over the phone, to my boyfriend and listening to him weep when I was done.  That was the start of something.  It was telling the person I loved the scariest, darkest thing about me that I could imagine ever sharing.  He was all of 21 years old at the time, but handled it amazingly well and never once doubted what I told him or made me feel loved one iota less.  For the most part though, my sharing stopped there.  I did write that speaker, Katie Koestner, who promptly wrote me back, and my Resident Advisor, who had picked up on my emotions that day and had sensed what happened to me also reached out to me, but that was pretty much it, and once again I buried it and moved forward.  It definitely had on impact on my life, but it was something I kept to myself for the most part.  I didn't see a counselor, report it, or confide in many others.  I chose to focus on college, my relationship with my boyfriend, my family and my overall future.  My lifestyle had most definitely calmed down by this stage, and overall things were going pretty well.

Another fast forward, and my twenties were all focused on my future.  I enjoyed my college experience, was looking forward to my career, and became very involved in my sorority.  I went on to become the president of the sorority, became engaged to my love, and graduated with honors.  Within a month of graduating, I married and then started focusing on my career as a teacher.  My twenties were spent advancing through my career and degree by adding my Master's and National Boards.  We moved a few times, tried to start a family unsuccessfully, and suffered with infertility. All throughout this period, my husband suggested that I should try talking to a professional.  There were times when I would just feel overcome with emotion, have flashbacks or bad dreams, etc. but overall  I kept thinking I was "fine", and that I could handle it on my own.

Then came my thirties.  Just a few weeks before turning 30, we finally had our first child.  We were elated to be a family. It has been a stressful journey followed by a very scary birth.  When he was only six months old, we made a cross country move, and our careers drastically changed.  The next several years were spent with focusing on our family.  I was either having babies, experiencing miscarriages, nursing babies, preparing to become a  foster parent, or reading about how to do this whole parenting-gig.  My feelings were quite low on my priority list, and life was about babies and raising little ones.  No regrets, as it was an exciting and exhausting time in our lives, and it's just kind of par for the course that your own well-being takes a back seat during this time.  Again, during this time period it would sneak up on me here or there.  I'd have some really low moments when I'd think about it a lot or feel compelled to speak up and speak out, but then I just didn't have the energy or the time, and once again I thought "I've got this."

At thirty-seven, I couldn't ignore it anymore.  We'd moved back to Florida, our family was feeling complete, we'd passed the baby phase, and I was begin to notice just how much this feeling wasn't going to leave me no matter how much I tried to ignore it.  Finally, I did what felt like one of the scariest things ever, and I called a local counseling center.  They specialize in free counseling for those that have experienced domestic violence or sexual assault.  I took Mat with me for my first appointment because I don't think I would have walked through the doors on my own.  He wasn't permitted to come back in with me though.  When it was over, we got in the car and we bawled like never before.  It was just such a release and so freeing, yet so painful.  I had taken this huge first step.  I continued to see her a few more times.  During this time period I once again wrote a letter and finally officially shared a glimpse of the experience with my parents, brother, and a couple best friends.  When I first met with her I told her that my overall goal was to step from victim to victory.  I wanted to be able to volunteer, to share my experience in order that others would learn from it.  We met a total of four times, and I was feeling much more positive. I felt like I had a pretty good grasp on things, and was fine just meeting with her as needed in the future.  I was hopeful that God would open up the right opportunity for me to volunteer or serve in some way while sharing my story.

That time didn't come, or if it did I was oblivious to it.  I wasn't feeling lead to discuss my story with much of anyone really.  I was feeling distant from God.  I was feeling like even though I had seen several opportunities to volunteer, every single one of them seemed way too scary to follow through with.  Fear.  So much fear set in.  It's hard to describe.  I felt like a failure if I called her and tried to go back and see her again.  As wonderful as she was, she didn't seem too willing to dive into the spiritual impact that my assault had on me, and I was beginning to realize that it was quite significant part of my trauma. Don't get me wrong, I will forever be thankful to her.  I couldn't even physically say the "R" word before working with her.  She taught me some wonderful coping skills and truly provided a renewed sense of hope and a positive outlook for me.  But when that dark time invaded again, I knew I needed something more but just didn't know where to turn.

I turned 39 a couple months ago.  It's the realization that 40 is approaching before long that motivated me to get serious about making some changes and addressing my fears.  I set goals for myself and decided that this is the year to take better care of myself!  I can't be all the things I want to be to my husband, children, parents, and students if I don't take better care of myself.  This includes physical, mental, and spiritual health.  I am determined that this is MY year, and I will not feel guilty or selfish in taking care of myself.  A few weeks after my birthday, I was sitting in church and listening to a sermon about Peter seeing Jesus walk on water.  The overall message of the sermon was about stepping out in faith and evaluating where in your life  you need to step out in faith.  I felt the strongest nudging inside.  I knew where I needed to step out in faith, but I knew it was going to be ugly and hard and full of emotions.  Before I could talk myself out of it, I reached out to my pastor and asked if we could meet soon.  Poor guy probably had no idea what he was in for, but of course he agreed, and we set up a time to meet a couple days later.  I couldn't eat a bite that day.  I was sweating just driving to the church, and I'm pretty sure I was visibly shaking as I told him the gist.  It felt foolish to be so dang emotional over something that happened over 20 years ago, but there I was.   I have SO many blessings.  Truly, I have a life that I adore.  But the sadness regarding this experience is just simply overwhelming at times.  I wasn't feeling God's presence and kind of just felt like He didn't really care to be brutally honest.  So, I sat there and exposed my weakness, and shared the parts that I felt lead to, and it was a renewed sense of hope and the start of this journey that brings me here now...

Writing is My Jam!

You know how sometimes doctor's offices or other various companies ask you what your preferred form of communication is? Text, phone call, email, etc?  Before texts were a thing or even email, I was always better at putting it out there in writing than in verbal form.  So chances are if I have something on my mind or want to relay my feelings, it's going to come out much better in written form.

Public speaking has always made me nervous and is saved as a last resort.  Put me in front of a group of kiddos, and I'll teach them all day.  Put me in front of a group of adults, and I'll second guess myself all day.  Who knows...it is what it is, and I've learned to just try and embrace it, challenge myself when I can, and use writing as my own form of therapy from time to time.  

I began a blog (Our Winding Road) several years ago when my husband and I began our journey through IVF.  It was a challenging topic to talk about and keep everyone updated on, so I chose a blog to communicate the process with our loved ones.  It turned into a blog that continued through years of  growing our family.  As much as I loved writing, I reached a point where I just felt keeping my blog updated was becoming too time consuming and had gotten away from what I'd originally intended.  Mat and I both still enjoy looking back over it though and re-reading the posts about that exciting time in our lives!  I find myself again approaching a topic that is challenging at times to verbalize, but I am learning that there's power in communicating it, so I am turning to what I am most comfortable with, and that is writing.  So, here goes nothing....  It's a journey for myself.  If anyone else chooses to follow along, even better!