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This area is reserved for the tidbits I know hope will be of interest to my readers. Check back often for regular updates. 

 

Check out this article about the Fifty Shades of Grey phenomena, including a list of organizations which strongly oppose this sick trend, and have implemented various means of helping women who have been sexually victimized.

 

Were you raised by a narcissist? Chances are you were if you suffered any form of childhood abuse. The Little Red Survivor website is filled with excellent articles examining the many faces of narcissism.

 

It's been a long time coming---7 years to be exact---but finally email notifications for new BD posts is available. Sign up today and never again miss another post. You know you want to!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Kate Is Rising has an excellent Survivors Resources page which directs you to numerous websites dealing with issues of abuse, healing and recovery. Please bear in mind that the information on these pages may be triggering.

 

 

There's lots of good stuff at the Dissociation Blog Showcase, including a list of 180 blogs dealing with some aspect of this disorder. 

 

 

On the Overcoming Sexual Abuse site there's an article entitled, "It's Not About You Mom" which I could have written myself. I bet many of my readers could say the same!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Wednesday
Jul272016

Seeking the Old Paths (Still)

(This is a post from 2008 which, for some reason, was saved in a file deep into my computer. When I came across it I barely remembered writing it, but it resonated with me. In fact, I feel just as I did when I wrote this though I haven't made any attempts to do anything about my longing to begin attending church. Because I spent decades in what ended up being a cult, I've been skittish about attending any kind of organized religious services.)

 

I miss attending church. I've no idea where that thought comes from, but its sudden wistfulness is worth noting. Usually when I find myself unaccountably yearning for something it's a sign that something is missing in my life.

Growing up, church attendance was a given. Because I learned to love it when I was still living under my dad's wing, I put up no fuss when my new stepdad insisted Mom take us each week. I barely blinked an eye at the oddity of worshipping on the seventh day of the week, instead of on Sunday as I'd been accustomed to. The thing is, I needed this: needed the peaceful atmosphere of the sanctuary as  every head bowed in prayer; needed the hauntingly beautiful hymns (which contained within their melodies a wealth of theology.)

Sometimes I studied the frail wrinkled neck in the pew ahead of me, intrigued by the whiter than snow baby-fine hair escaping from a carefully skewered bun and oh! something constricted inside of me to think that I was studying the landscape of a dear old saint's neck. Perhaps this was an individual who had loved the Lord all of her days--just imagine! I couldn't even fathom walking an entire lifetime with God. What must that be like?

My hair will doubtless never be baby-fine, no matter how old I get, and I swear I'll never wear it in a bun. As I contemplate this growing desire to be within that old familiar atmosphere--on holy ground--I'm surprised to realize that my own walk with God is 50 years old. 50 years!

If someone were to ask me what it's like to walk with Him that long, I could only say it's  like this. It's sorrow and grieving and (a sometimes aggravating) joy popping up at the most incongruous times. It's laughter and deep wistfulness, and begging prayers and prayers whispered hotly out of a devastating sense of shame. It's fumbling like the world's biggest stumble-bum while blurting out asinine words which are instantly regretted.

Grace and sin and glory and unholy hands touching me and sunsets so gorgeous they make my throat hurt, and cruelty so ugly it makes my whole body throb with shame and anger.

A constant sense of wanting something unnamable, and seeking it within the glass-stained confines of the building whose mysteries surely weren't meant for the likes of me--but still I braved my weekly entrance, certain that some word of Scripture would embrace me, even me, in ways that nothing else ever did, assuring me of my place in the Creator's master plan.

I miss attending church. Now that I have my car back I can go whenever I want to. The deliciousness of this realization washes over me, compels me to look up local churches on the Internet.

I will go, I will return back to what was once a weekly solace, a necessary solace for a redheaded stepchild who only wanted to be loved and valued.

 

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Reader Comments (2)

(why do I show up now? I got a auto sent email from your guestbook which I unsubscribed, then followed my curiosity to this post)

I only know what it's like to have truly walked with God for just a few years. How has it been? He is the buffer to my pain so I don't take a full force hit. He gives me purpose and tells me to work on mildness. He molds me into a better person by showing me how to truly love, how to be of help to myself through him and how to help others. He has reminded me in his word, the Bible, that he will train me, he will make me strong and he will never leave me. In these few years of getting to know him, of becoming God’s friend, I have been taught the value of correction, the value of not always needing to be right, and the truth that he will never set me up to fail. I'm learning who he is and in the process I have discovered who I desire to be.

Deb, my mother and brother died. I all but vomited my heart out. I couldn't see anything, could only exhale and inhale pain. It is gut wrenching. I survive these losses only because my Father in the heavens has stuck with me. He has not let me down.

Faith

August 10, 2016 | Unregistered CommenterFaith Magdalene Austin

Austin,

I've no idea why you received an automated email from my guestbook. That's just weird.

I'm sorry to hear about your mother and brother. I know how raw you must be from their deaths. My mother died a few months ago and I still don't know how I feel about it.

Deb

September 4, 2016 | Registered Commenterbeautifuldreamer

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