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Restoration: The Post That Led to My Book

“And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” Philippians 1:6 ESV

Note to Reader: This blog was previously posted in June 2020 as a test to see if I could put my story out to the world. You will learn in my upcoming memoir, how I reacted to my first post.

Last Sunday marked another year; another year I did not buy a Father’s Day card for my father. In fact, I don’t recall ever buying a card for either my biological father, or my stepfather. It is possible that in grade school I may have made a card, but I have no clear memory of doing so. I have purchased cards for my husband, celebrating the wonderful, nurturing father he has been to our children. I have also bought cards for my grandfather, my father-in-law and my uncle, who acted as positive male role models in my life. Yet, I will never make a warm sappy post highlighting that I am still a “Daddy’s girl” on Instagram. I will never share a picture of my father walking me down the aisle on my wedding day, instead it was my uncle who fulfilled that role. The harsh reality is that I don’t have a father to celebrate or honor!

For you to understand my situation, I will share a brief history of my family. My biological father signed away his parental rights when I was a baby. I did meet him once and subsequently decided the relationship was not worth an investment. I was raised by my stepfather, an alcoholic who sexually abused me. He was later arrested and convicted of sexual assault. It’s easy to understand why I don’t buy a Father’s Day card for either of them.

I could close my blog right now, and I am sure comments of sympathy and empathy would ensue. I might even get questions about the details, or about the importance of expressing forgiveness. But not spending $5.99 for a Hallmark sentiment on Father’s Day is just a prologue to the main story. It doesn’t tell the story of a woman in her late forties who cherished and treasured every picture her friends shared on Father’s Day with their own amazing dads. It doesn’t tell about the woman who loves to plan a full day celebrating her husband on Father’s Day. It doesn’t show the restoration that has taken place.

Restoration is defined as the action of returning something to a former condition. I love old furniture, but unlike antique purists such as my father-in-law, I don’t love to restore furniture. Instead, I love to paint pieces a fun, new color and replace the old hardware. It fits my décor style and takes less time. And a good coat of paint can cover up a lot of damage. But true restoration takes time and effort. Often, you have strip away the old finish, sand the piece down, and carefully stain it to its former glory. My husband and I toured The Breakers, the old Vanderbilt mansion in Newport, Rhode Island. The curators of this mansion did an amazing job trying to find as many original period pieces as possible to furnish the house. The restoration of these pieces was carefully done and is priceless, demonstrating the amazing craftsmanship of the designer!

Picture Credit to Margaret Diller

Imagine with me that when I was born, I was a beautiful table, designed and carefully carved by God himself. My wood grain was stained carefully to let the beauty of the piece shine through. Yet, within a few short years of my life, this table was damaged beyond recognition by misuse and abuse. In some areas, the beautiful wood grain was marred with scratches that cut deeply into its surface. It no longer functioned as a table and most people would not have even bothered trying to sell it at their yard sale. Its battered surface and legs looked worthless and unsalvageable.

Thirty-one years ago, this table, my life, was on its way to the dump, all but crushed by the weight of worries and burdens I was never meant to carry. I had just shared with the police and social workers the details of my years of sexual abuse. My stepfather was immediately arrested, and I was experiencing post-traumatic shock. Yet, within a few months, I experienced the love of Jesus, an unconditional love that forever changed my life. Being filled with His spirit, I felt peace amidst the chaos, pain and brokenness.

This infilling of God’s spirit was the beginning of the restoration process. This involved therapy with counselors, but a lot of the process involved God using His word, His spirit, and His body of believers to restore me. Some of the process involved stripping me of the wounds of abuse, carefully sanding my distorted thoughts and views to bring out the beautiful grain. It included refinishing me with a new stain, restoring in me the trust and beauty found in a marriage, family and friends. It entailed ripping out damaged places such as coping mechanisms that led to food addiction and replacing them with new, sturdier hardware, including the satisfaction and fulfillment found only in God. This restoration didn’t happen overnight, and I can’t say that it is complete, yet. I can’t say that there aren’t some scars underneath the table that still need to be uncovered and healed. However, I can say that God has done an incredible work in my life, restoring me to what He had intended from the beginning. I am not the same table that I was when I was born. God, through his restoration process, has created a new masterpiece that reflects His amazing craftsmanship!

This is just a glimpse into a major project I am working on: writing a book about the restoration of a life. In this blog I have used the metaphor of restoring a piece of furniture for simplicity’s sake. In my book, I am relating my life to the restoration of a home, a deeper and more involved project than a simple table. My goal in the book is to walk you through my restoration process, unfolding how God has ministered to me in different areas of my life. This journey of restoration is my story, but I believe, whether it is childhood trauma, as in my case, or a failed marriage, an unexpected death, or any situation that causes us to be broken, we all have areas where we need God’s intervention to help bring us back to a place of restoration. In Jeremiah 30:17, the Lord prophesies, “For I will restore health unto thee, and I will heal thee of thy wounds.” According to the Matthew Henry commentary, most of Jeremiah’s prophecies fall in the area of reproof and threats. Yet, this chapter is one of two chapters that stand out as a source of comfort and hope. Despite the effects of sin, whether self-induced, or inflicted by others, God had a plan to restore His people to health and heal their wounds. This promise was not only for Israel, but for us, today, as well!

Father’s Day will arrive every year for the rest of my life, and there will always remain some “nevers” in my life, including never buying my father a Father’s Day card. But this is not a source of pain or contention for me, but rather a reminder of God’s grace and love. Like the Apostle Paul says in Philippians 1:6, “Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in “Sherry” will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.” God has begun a good work in me, and I can’t wait to finish my book so that you can read about it!

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Reclaimed & Restored: 35 Days

“But you, take courage! Do not let your hands be weak, for your work shall be rewarded.” 2 Chronicles 15:7 ESV

It’s done! My memoir, Reclaimed & Restored, is uploaded, and my proof copy has arrived. For almost five years, I have labored over this book and covered it with prayer. The font has been chosen, the cover designed by my amazing daughter and hours and hours of edits have been made by my husband. Five weeks from today, it will be available through Amazon in both paperback and E-book formats. Then I will take the next two weekends to celebrate with book launches in both Pennsylvania and Wisconsin.

For the last month, my blog has been quiet because I have been consumed with getting my book ready for publication. Terry has spent most of his Saturdays staring at his computer from sunup to sundown, helping me make the needed changes and fixing the multitude of punctuation and grammatical errors. At the end of those long days, we would both fall into bed, bleary-eyed and exhausted.

I have learned a lot through this writing process. Spending all that time looking up the nitty gritty details of comma usage will hopefully result in making fewer errors in the future. Reading your manuscript aloud with someone else present gives you an idea of how your words are being heard and reduces the amount of repetitive language. I have learned when it’s important to be decisive and when it’s important to use caution when drawing conclusions. I am reminded of the value of citing as you go; it will make the final manuscript so much easier to note.

I have also learned the importance of feedback and how to receive it. I recognized early on that this project was going to be vulnerable and challenging to write. All too often, when telling others about my abuse, I would intellectualize it by just stating the facts, leaving my heart and hurt behind. I felt strongly to be more vulnerable this time around and help reduce the shame that victims feel by being graphic with details. My purpose was to help victims feel validated, that they were not alone with the hardest, ugliest, most brutal trauma that they have experienced in their life. Along with that, I wanted to educate others on how brutal sexual trauma is for victims.

But along with the ugliest parts of my life, I wanted the book to bring hope to survivors. The only way to combine the ugly truth with pictures of hope was to interweave my story of abuse with lighter anecdotal and theological truths. Yet, I was concerned this back and forth might result in weak transitions and be difficult for readers to follow. So, I sent the book out to ten people for feedback on structure, grammar, punctuation, and general thoughts.

I remember sitting in my living room in April and clicking send, moving this work of heart out to other people’s devices to read and critique. Doubts raced through my head. Will everyone see me as an imposter of a writer? What if people hate it? What if it doesn’t resonate with people? And the biggest question of all: Was my trauma too much for people to read?

Feedback came in slowly, especially for those who were closest to me. Some of my closest friends didn’t know the extent of my abuse and had to put it down for a bit to process their feelings of anger towards my perpetrator. Some feedback pointed out my misplaced modifiers and comma errors, while some suggested rewording a sentence here and there to make it more readable. Others suggested more clarification in some areas and to be careful about making declarations concerning correlations between health issues and trauma. This feedback was valuable, and it made the book stronger.

The feedback also answered the biggest question that plagued my mind: my trauma was not too much for people to read. The feedback was consistent and supportive. Yes, it was hard and brutal in the beginning of the book. But as they read on, readers started to see the picture of hope that I was hoping would shine through. Denise Thompson, one of my final editors, called the book “Horrifyingly beautiful.” These two words were one of the best compliments I could ever receive.

It is surreal to have my own ISBN number attached to a book and to see my name on a book spine. I can’t imagine how it is going to feel when my book title becomes available on Amazon on Friday, October 25. I am excited that both my children and their spouses, along with my three favorite little ones, are going to celebrate with me in Pennsylvania. I am also looking forward to reconnecting with friends and family while I am in Wisconsin.

After the excitement of the book launch ends, I am most excited to hear about the impact the book makes on others. I pray that this little book of mine gets into the hands of people who need hope that the most terrible moments of their lives do not have to define them. What defines a person is the life you allow God to restore within you and how you use that life to make something beautiful.

Next week, I am going to reshare the post that started it all, a vulnerable post about why I don’t celebrate my father on Father’s Day. The following two weeks, I will share excerpts from the book. Then the week before the book launches, I will close with some final thoughts and feelings I have about my life. I hope that you find these next few posts encouraging and inspiring. More importantly, I hope that my small community starts sharing this book with others who may benefit from the subject matter.

Let the countdown begin: 35 days till Reclaimed & Restored is released!!!