Tried With Fire

There's a beautiful and poignant post over at Fathom Mag by Tasha Burgoyne. Almond Eyes is a letter from a mother to her daughter telling her that she is made in the image of God no matter how people treat her. This article is even more meaningful because of a prior post  where her child, still young enough to be riding in a stroller, was the subject of racial remarks. In some ways, this country has come so far, and in other ways, it's as though nothing has changed. When Tasha writes  about "people who might pull back the corners of their eyes and laugh at you on the playground," 40+-year-old memories came to mind. I still remember the faces of the kids who thought it was hilarious to mock the only Asian in the school. I remember some of their names. Not because I've been holding a grudge all these years, but the whole "sticks and stones" is wishful thinking. Words leave scars that take a long time to heal especially when they have undermined your se...

I had gotten Dr. Langberg's book thinking it would arm me for my fight against domestic violence and help others. But I assumed I was further down the road in my survivorhood than I really was. I am still very much in the process of healing, and I needed to read this: Returning to relationship after the shattering of trauma starts with the person we tell our story to. When we speak, we are heard. We are heard by someone who seeks to understand and feel with us. We are no longer isolated and alone in our suffering. However, we must eventually choose whether we will love again, care again, reach for another human being again. Trauma took away choice. Surviving and then telling our story returns that to us. We must choose what we will do with humans. We can hide, hate, or run from them, but then the trauma still has mastery.  Every act of kindness, every act of helpfulness, every act of forgiveness, and every act of love defies the trauma... Perpetrators of violence destroy trust...