One Woman to Another

When I was done sharing my story an elegant woman approached me. She stated, “You remind me of me. Do you have time for me to share a little about my latest experiences?” I held her hands as a sat near her getting ready to give her my undivided attention. And so she began:

I dreamt a sweet-bitter dream last night in which the love of my life and I chatted in the Spirit about God and life. We were filled by each other’s presence. He treated me with such reverence, like a true daughter of the King. He held me in his arms and prayed for me endlessly. Endlessly. When he prayed he became angelic, powerful, and strong. A true son of God. And I could just stay there forever. In his arms. While he prayed.

But, then I woke up with an overwhelming emotionlessness, I thought, ‘I will never have this. I can’t. I cannot trust any man. I am so broken.’


Part of the reason why I rejected love many years ago is because I would not have been the woman he thinks that I am. In a relationship with him I would be paranoid, angry, but not sweet and loving as he thinks I am. I would not be encouraging, I would be hostile and oppressive, all because I am broken. All because of the man who raped me when I was a child.

I do not want to die like Betty Olsen—unloved, unmarried, and hostage of the enemy—I want to have a family full of Christ, love, and purity. I want to be freed from Satan’s oppressions. I want to be able to love and be loved. I cannot love anyone well and this really hurts me. I never give everything of myself to anyone. I’m too afraid. This also hurts me deeply. I am wounded deeply.

When people tell me that I am sweet and loving, they have no clue. I am only being polite. I am very polite because I am aware of people’s needs. I am aware of people’s needs because I am highpervigilant. I am highpervigilant because I have unconsciously trained myself to be this way, after haven been raped many nights as a child.

At church today (3/05/2017) little Mrs. Paula sensed that I was experiencing great grief, thus as worship began she approached me and gave me the biggest hug. I broke down in tears immediately. It was beautiful. I had not cried this way in a long time. I needed to cry.

I was able to receive her hug because I know there is nothing that she wants from me. It was a genuine hug. I can receive anything from her because I know she comes from a place of brokenness, yet her faith is intact. This little woman griefs much more than I do. Her son took a vacation to Mexico last year. She has not heard from him since. He’s gone missing. The authorities search for him—I cried in her arms long minutes as she prayed for me.

She said, ‘Christ loves you. You are the apple of His eye. Experience this hug as if it were from Him. You are such a sweet girl. And you are so special to Jesus, He loves you soooo much. You are His princess. You wear His crown. He has crowned you my sweet girl. Do no put your head down or you might drop your crown. Never look down, you have a Father in heaven who loves you. Look to the heaves. Always look up to the heavens. Continue being the sweet girl that you are and trust the Lord, He will do it. Whatever your griefs are, whatever your struggle, He will fix it. Give it over to the Lord. He is powerful, there is nothing He cannot do. Just trust Him. You must trust Him.’ And as she held me in her arms, I cried with deep emotion from the bottomless ocean of my heart.

Then, I went into the ladies room. I’m not the type to cry in front of people, it makes me feel naked. I cried in front of the mirror some more as I wiped my ruined makeup off. I looked beautiful but very sad. Very sad. Still crying, I fixed my hair as I looked into my eyes. But, I stopped trying to fix myself. I dropped to the floor on my knees, holding on to the brown and soft wooden sink stand. My dress touched the floor and I curled up asking God to remember what He promised long ago.

I cried for another twenty minutes on my knees asking God for healing, love, mercy, and grace. ‘If you heal my heart, I will be truly healed. I want to love people well. Please heal my heart! Don’t let Satan get away with my death and my soul in the pit. Please Abba, I don’t want to end up like Betty Olsen. Have mercy and grace on my petty little life.’

I was in great despair. I found myself lost. God’s comfort seemed unreal. He felt so far away from me—further than the stars.

I reminded Him one last time of His promises. I got up. I wiped off the last drop of makeup on my face. I took a deep breath. I told myself, ‘Get it together.’ I proceeded to walk out of the ladies room and into the worshipping room. I gathered my stuff from my seat and walked over to welcome you to share your marvelous story.

The more I get to know women, the more I realize we are not so different after all. We want the same things. Many of us share the same story line, the same pain, and the same types of griefs. We connected that day. We truly share the same heart.

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