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Goodbye, Home

“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.” Numbers 6:24-26

Dear Resident,

For the past 13 years, this house has been our home. We moved to Pennsylvania from Wisconsin when our children were tweens, filling the home with music, laughter, and memories. Additionally, between the in-home childcare I have done, and opening our home to visitors from out of state, this house has always been full. We have celebrated Christmases with 9 Annual Hot Chocolate Parties with homemade peppermint marshmallows. We also hosted many small bonfires where hot dogs were roasted, and children played “Ghost in the Graveyard.” We played many games of Canasta, Risk, and Monopoly. Our children crossed into adulthood here with the usual milestones: first jobs, driver’s licenses, graduating both high school and college, and even getting married. The last four years, new sounds have been heard when our grandchildren would come and visit, exploring our home, playing with the Yak (our furry white ottoman), and peeking out the windows looking for squirrels and bunnies.

We want to share with you a few things about your yard, some things we have planted and some that were here before us. The Jane Magnolia tree adjacent to the driveway was picked out in honor of my dear mother-in-law, who passed away in 2018 from breast cancer. It blooms in spring, but we have also seen a few blooms in the fall. The White Oak tree outside of the living room window is not dying, despite the brown leathery leaves still clinging to the branches in winter. This oak holds onto its leaves in winter as a form of protection. The Flowering Crabapple tree next to the oak is starting to fill out nicely. The maple tree off the patio was much smaller when we moved in. It has grown, and many children have found it delightful to climb among its branches.

The side of the house is full of blooming plants when spring and summer sweep in. The pink peony will bloom first, dripping with flowers. If you pick them in the morning, you are less likely to deal with ants. The white peony blooms next and is just as delightful. The hydrangea next to it hasn’t done as well. If you have a greener thumb than us, maybe you can coax it to flourish. Next to it are the climbing rose bushes that in some years are full of abundant blossoms. If all the leaves disappear in a day, it just means some deer have visited it in the evening. You can find some sprays to prevent them from munching on the rose bush leaves. On either side of the rose bushes are two purple rhododendrons. They bloom in spring and have beautiful purple flowers. Unfortunately, an evasive species, called the Tree of Heaven, is growing behind the bushes. We continuously cut it down, but it is persistent.

The ring outside the octagon window was here before we came. The azalea blooms in spring, looking like the bush is on fire with its vibrant blooms. We have also planted a rhubarb plant in the ring, it had a rough year last year, and hopefully this year it will be more productive, if you like rhubarb. Finally, in the past, we have planted Cosmos and Poppies in the ring.  They have repeatedly gone to seed, so you may see a few pop up in the summer, bringing some extra joy to the summer heat. Finally, we planted some lavender last spring. We are not sure if it will survive, but you may see it blooming as well. Next to the ring is a privet bush that grows very large but can be trimmed back if you desire.

Finally, the backyard has been one of our favorite places.  We see many birds in the spring: and some have even tried to create a nest in the various trees in the yard, and once even in our grill in the spring. Our children gifted us the lilac bush planted between the two yards, and it blooms in spring, filling the patio with its fragrance. There is another azalea bush beside it as well. We also have two thornless blackberry bushes on the rise in the back yard. If you want berries, you will have to get a net to cover them before the birds and squirrels get them. Also, beware of the slugs when you have a lot of rain. They cling to the drainpipe and leave trails across the patio. There is also another privet bush between the maple tree and the blackberry bushes.

The front of the house is flooded with sunshine, so whatever you plant there must be watered often. I have found zinnias do the best in the front of the house. We also put out potted mums in early October, they are more likely to survive from that point on with the sun.

We share this with you because we want you to know what to expect this spring. We hope the plants add to making this house feel like your home. We also believe that whether you own or rent, a home is created with love and community. We are sure you will decorate this place with your own style and create many memories. You may even decide you don’t like rhubarb and rip it out, and we are okay with that. We leave knowing that this house has served us well. If these walls could talk, they would tell you that it has been a home well-loved and well-cared for. We hope this place blesses your life for however long you live here. We know it has blessed our lives, and we leave a little bit of our hearts behind with it. This neighborhood is great, and you will enjoy the serenity and getting to know your new neighbors.

Welcome to this home: your home!

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Lessons From Dickens

Day 20: Lessons From Dickens

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” John 14:27

“Marley was dead” is the opening sentence in to one of the most beloved Christmas stories of all time.  Charles Dickens quickly penned the novella, “A Christmas Carol”, in six weeks, hoping to inspire England to celebrate Christmas with more charity, and to improve his own financial situation.  It is reported that as Scrooge was traveling London with ghosts on paper, Dickens himself was wandering the streets of London for inspiration.  In 1843, the people of London were divided into two different worlds.  The first world was filled with bounty, lavish homes and furnishings, and idle entertainment.  The second world, containing most of the population of London, was marked by a lack of food and clothing, children working twelve-hour days in factories, poor houses, and debtor’s prisons.  Dickens hoped that his little ghost story would “help open the hearts of the prosperous and powerful towards the poor and powerless.”  In his sixty-six-page manuscript, Scrooge’s encounters with ghosts lead to his redemption with the declaration, “I will honour Christmas in my heart and try to keep it all the year.”  Not only did Scrooge redeem his life, Dicken’s “A Christmas Carol” helped reform much of London, inspiring changes not only in laws but also in hearts.

Like Scrooge, just maybe, I needed to redeem my Christmas in 2020.  This Advent season, I am using the quietness of Christmas in the middle of a pandemic as a reset for me.  I am not rushing around shopping, or busy with Christmas programs and activities.  Instead, I am spending that time leaning into Advent, exploring it through a few devotionals, rereading portions of scripture, and listening to Advent poetry.  For the first time, Terry and I are reading “A Christmas Carol” aloud together, engrossed in Dickens’ imagery with phrases like, “You may be an undigested bit of beef.”  I feel calmer and more peaceful than I ever have, even though my oven coil broke yesterday morning in the middle of cookie baking.  Even my research for my Advent blog posts has awakened a deeper curiosity about the big picture of Jesus’ birth and the redemption it brings for mankind.  Although I am looking forward to celebrating Christmas 2021 without a pandemic, like Scrooge, “I will not shut out the lessons” I have learned this Advent season!

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Atmosphere

“So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.” 1 Corinthians 10:31

A few days ago, I woke with the sun peeking through my curtains. Clad in my pajamas, I headed downstairs to see that frost had blanketed the lawn, while the cool crisp air from outside had seeped into my home. Shivering, I adjusted the heat, covered up with one of my cozy throws, and opened my Bible. The heat kicked in, and the rising sun lit the room with a warm glow. But something didn’t quite feel right, and I knew instantly what was wrong. The icy fingers of the silence snatched away any warmth supplied by the throws, the sun, or the heat. I knew it was time to start filling the home with joyous Christmas music, and I knew just where to start. I asked Alexa to play “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” by The Piano Guys. Instantly, the mellow notes of the cello filled the room with hope, soon followed by the tinkling notes of the piano, giving the hope wings.  The atmosphere changed as peace and joy flooded my home and my soul.

It has been two weeks since the cacophony of the election ads, accusations from both sides, and shouts of despair have quieted. The polls have closed, and with that, ended one of our nation’s most tumultuous elections. Some who read these words spent the next day rejoicing, while others were in despair. I have had a lot of thoughts about this election, and how as a Christian I personally felt called to vote. I know my views were in direct opposition to many of my friends and surprised some on the other side. I have no intention of justifying my reasons or trying to persuade others of the wisdom of my decision. I can say that I thoughtfully prayed, listened carefully to some people I respect on the issues, and cast my vote, confident of making the right choice for my faith.

The biggest takeaway from the election is not about who was right and who was wrong. No one on either side can say in truth that God favored the winner and frowned upon the loser. They only thing we can definitively say is that God is in control. It’s also not important for me to lay out my own personal interpretation of why one candidate won and the other lost. I will leave that analysis to Tim Alberta, David French, and Sarah Steward Holland and Beth Silvers from Pant Suit Politics, a new independent podcast I have discovered. The real takeaway is this: how do I, as a Christian, move forward in our nation, sharing the peace, joy, and hope that I feel in Christ? How can I create an atmosphere that others of different beliefs can feel and maybe experience?

God prioritizes creating the right atmosphere. Eden was full of different fruits, plants, and animals, creating a beautifully diverse world. Later, God set up his tabernacle appealing to all our senses. He charged designers to carefully craft intricately carved gold furnishings. He had curtains carefully woven so that visually they told a story. Candles burned eternally, creating a place of reverence and light. He used special ingredients for the incense whose scent would distinctly remind visitors that this was the place where God dwelled. The sound of prayers offered up to God were heard throughout the tabernacle. Even the sense of taste was used in the tabernacle, when the priests ate the shewbread every Sabbath, reminding us that we need to come to God regularly for our daily needs.

Beyond the tabernacle, the New Testament exemplifies Jesus using His senses to minister to other’s needs. He saw the disreputable tax collector, Zacchaeus, hiding in a tree, and invited Himself over to Zacchaeus’ home. Virtue flowed out of Jesus when the hemorrhaging woman grasped His robe. His hands molded dirt with spit and placed this poultice on the eyes of a blind person to bring sight. He heard His disciples’ cries during an epic storm, responding to their fears by defying all scientific principles, calming the storm with His command. He ignored the scent of Lazarus’s decaying body, bringing life back to His friend.

As a Christian, I am called to be a witness for Christ by being a peacemaker, speaking truth with love, and glorifying God in everything I do. I can model myself after Jesus by engaging my senses to minister to those around me. Like Jesus, I can keep my eyes open for those who are marginalized and invite them over dinner. Showing hospitality opens doors for conversations with others who may not think or believe the way I do. I can pay attention to those who are in desperate situations and reaching out for help by acknowledging their identity in Christ. Jesus called the hemorrhaging woman His daughter, inviting her into relationship with Him. When I recognize everyone as being created in the image of God, respect should flow from me to them with my conversation and social medial posts. I can use my hands to minister to those who are in need by making meals, writing cards, or cleaning someone’s home when needed. When people feel stressed by what’s going on in the world, I can offer peace by remaining calm and listening to their concerns. Finally, when the stench of controversy and divisiveness floods social media and dinner tables, I can quietly turn the conversations back toward life by addressing the hard issues, and by acknowledging what Jesus cared about most: making broken people whole.

This doesn’t mitigate my concerns for the next four years. I have concerns that some potential cabinet candidates with checkered pasts relating to sexual misconduct and assault will silence victims and empower perpetrators by giving them legitimacy. I believe in strong borders but am concerned about the consequences mass deportation would have on those who are desperately trying to have a better life. Labeling immigrants, legal or not, as “not humans” or “Hannibal Lectors” denies the fact that all people are created in the image of God. I believe in the sanctity of life, but it goes far beyond a baby in the womb. I do not believe the incoming administration will offer support to single mothers by extending childcare credits or offering decent health insurance. And my list continues. But staying in a constant state of worry doesn’t move the dial forward toward solutions on any of the issues. Instead, I need to do my part whenever and wherever I can. I also can work toward being a peacemaker in my own circles.

Thanksgiving is right around the corner. Menus have been planned; turkeys will soon start their journey toward juicy, brown goodness; and pumpkin pie dreams fill my grandchildren’s heads. Often, our tables are full of people we love, but who think or believe differently than we do. I will sit at many tables during this holiday season where people think differently than I do. I am sure some of the conversations around the table will cross political lines. For me, I am going to try to create an atmosphere around these tables that represents Jesus, sharing the hope, peace, and joy I feel. These will always remain no matter who is president.

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Roller Coaster Launch

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to weep, and a time to laugh;a time to mourn, and a time to dance:” Ecclesiastes 3:1,4

My husband used to be a roller coaster enthusiast. He loved the thrills, stomach-lurching drops, and the speed of racing down the track. He beamed when he reminisced about trips to Six Flags Great America, a Chicago area amusement park. We even chose to spend one day there during our honeymoon. When our children finally reached the necessary height to ride the coasters, he gleefully explained the various rides they would encounter at the park. He may have even drawn a diagram for my son who loved the details.

We arrived early at the park on a bright, sunny summer day. The children skipped along with their father, excited to experience the thrills. We decided to start with a small coaster, to break them in gently. This one had no loops, just a few drops, and lots of twisty curves. While we waited in line, both our kids were chatty, excited to share their dad’s enthusiasm.

However, as we entered the cars, I saw a flash of uneasiness on my cautious son’s face. I tried to encourage him, and as we sat next to each other on the ride, I could see that he was not enjoying the twists or speed. When we got off, Terry’s animated face asked both children what they thought, expecting hurrahs and shouts of “Let’s keep going!” Ethan reluctantly shared his true feelings, desperately not wanting to disappoint his father. Terry understood Ethan’s trepidation and affirmed his concerns. So, he grabbed the hand of Maggie, our constant thrill seeker since toddlerhood, and went on to another coaster. But much to his dismay, he realized halfway through the ride, Maggie’s screams were not joyful, instead full of fear. The rest of day was spent watching shows and eating amusement park food.

It has been a while since I have come to the keyboard to write. The past month and half, my book launches consumed my energy and time. I experienced a roller coaster of emotions, some completely unrelated to the release of the book. It felt like my own twisted version of reality TV was flashing before my eyes.

About a month and half before the book launched, I found a lump in my breast. The first available appointment was the morning of my book release. I tried to ignore the lump, truly believing it was nothing significant. But every evening, I verified that it was still there, and wondered: Was this the beginning of my ending? Instead of having a cup of coffee lazily starting my day as I confirmed on social media that people were buying my book, I was squeezed and flattened to take the necessary images. Fortunately, after the examination, the radiologist informed me that nothing was wrong.

Two weeks prior to that, I found out that one of my sisters from my biological father had died unexpectedly. In Reclaimed & Restored, I share how I discovered in the last few years that I have more siblings. My only contact with her had been a few Facebook messages in the last year with the hope of meeting someday. I had a hard time processing her death: how do you mourn what should have been? The only bright side is that a few friends of hers reached out to me and shared that she was joyful and full of hospitality. I also connected with a cousin who shared the only pictures of my grandmother, Jessica Whitefeather, I have ever seen. I inherited her high cheekbones and her love for gingham.

I love my non-profit job, and I have been overwhelmed with the generosity of individuals, businesses, and churches during this holiday season. I regularly get new information from others on how they want to give, organize drives, and feed our clients. The time spent following up on these opportunities is all-consuming. Thus, Microsoft Excel has moved into the “friend zone” because it helps me keep track of all the generosity.

Additionally, we ordered author copies of my book for the book launch. Three days before the actual launch, Amazon had not updated my shipping information. Borderline late for a meeting, I sat in my car trying to figure out with a customer service representative where my books were. They hesitantly guaranteed that the books would arrive on time. I chose not to put my faith in them, but in God, trusting that these books would arrive. And they did, one day after my phone call. I opened the box and tears flowed with gratitude and awe! I was an author; Amazon verified it.

Grandma Jessica Whitefeather

This roller coaster of activity and emotion caught up with my body a few days before the launch. Having RA, I started what is referred to as a flare. All my joints were swollen and painful. I experienced stiffness after sitting, and pain when I moved. RA fatigue kicked in, making me exceptionally tired. And on top of that, because of my compromised immune system, I couldn’t shake the cold I had. I am looking forward to following up with the rheumatologist in December, when I will be back on the much-needed medicine. But until then, I will continue to struggle.

Finally, the book launch weekends came with a roller coaster of emotions: delight, joy, and some anxiety. I was glad that both my children and their families were able to attend the book launch in Chambersburg. My sister, Cheryl, sent me a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and I celebrated by doing shots of espresso with some of my closest friends, signing books, and reading two excerpts. I left the first book launch in awe of the generosity of an anonymous benefactor who paid my event space rental fee!

No words can adequately express my feelings about the book launch in Wisconsin. I was surrounded by friends and family from all different points in my life who came to celebrate with me. People traveled for hours to attend the launch. Most importantly, some of my heroes were there: my Aunt Debbie, Bob and Roxanne St. Pierre, Tina and Claudette Weiterman, and Michele Cassaday. These people played pivotal roles in my life, and you read about them in my book. There were a lot of big feelings that day, but mostly I sat in awe of what God has done and continues to do in my life.

The thrill or fear of a roller coaster only lasts a few minutes. After the ride, you unbuckle the harness, put your feet firmly back on the ground, and continue to live. I feel like the last few months have been a continuous roller coaster. Now, I am off the ride with my feet back on the ground. And I need to continue to live my ordinary but extraordinary life. I do this best when I process my experiences through writing my blog and my next book. There are a lot of things I plan to write about, including my feelings about the election and a big move we are making.

I will continue unashamedly encouraging readers to buy Reclaimed & Restored from Amazon. I believe that this little book can impact others. If you have already bought it, when you finish, please review it on Goodreads and Amazon. Thanks!

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Reclaimed & Restored

“Your faithfulness endures to all generations; you have established the earth, and it stands fast.” Psalm 119:90

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Today is the day! After a lifetime of experiences and almost 5 years of writing, Reclaimed & Restored is officially published. I am going to celebrate with family and friends for the next week at my two book launches. If you can’t make it, be sure to order a copy for yourself and a friend. God is so faithful, and I can’t wait to see how He uses this little book to help others.

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6 Days till Launch

“Give justice to the weak and the fatherless, maintain the right of the afflicted and the destitute.” Psalm 82:3

I am less than a week away from the release of Reclaimed & Restored. It will be available on October 25th through Amazon. I will also be selling copies at my book launches on Oct. 26th and Nov 2nd.  I am excited and a bit nervous. I have heard other authors compare launching a book to having a baby. It is a lot of work and once it’s out in the universe, this book baby is precious to you. You can’t wait for people to read it. After a baby is born, everyone wants to know details: how much does the baby weigh, does the baby have hair, what is the baby’s name, and who does the baby look like? I have had similar questions from both friends and acquaintances about my book. I am going to take the time to answer a few of those questions here.

Who is the intended audience for this book? In the beginning, I struggled with this question, but as I continued to write, it became clearer. This book is for any survivor or anyone who loves and supports survivors of sexual assault, regardless of whether it happened as a child or an adult. It is also for the Christian church at large because I hope that they care about this issue as much as Jesus does. It is not a self-help book but a memoir of my journey through healing. I hope that readers can see a path forward to healing, either for themselves or for their loved ones.

You write from a Christian world point of view; can it resonate with those who don’t practice your faith? Also, will it resonate with those who have experienced sexual trauma within their Christian faith? As a reader, I don’t limit myself to books that are written only by Christians. Truth is truth, no matter the source. Some of the most important books I have read on this subject came from those who did not articulate a faith system. I will not presume anyone’s interaction with the book, but I hope that I wrote it in a way that was true to my experience. And if I was effective, I think anyone, whether they have a Christian faith or not, or if they have been harmed within a Christian community, can see how one woman found healing in her own faith. Hopefully, my words will help them find hope for their own lives.

The church has not always been supportive of sexual assault victims (victim blaming, covering up sexual assault), do you address this in your book? Yes, I do address these issues. I think the Christian community needs to address the harm they have caused to survivors by perpetuating rape culture in their community with misinformed ideas about sexual assault. This is emphasized in my epilogue entitled Worth. My sexual trauma happened before I became a Christian. Although I personally did not experience victim blaming, I have heard other Christians perpetuate victim blaming when speaking about other situations. I did experience harm from adults who pressured me to express forgiveness to my perpetrator without him acknowledging the harm he inflicted on me. Although this is not the main theme of my book, the topic is important to address.

You mention that you include some graphic details about your sexual assault, why? I spent a lot of time praying and thinking about this part of the book. Too many Christian books on sexual assault gloss over the hard, ugly details. I think trauma is only healed when it comes out of the shadows and into the light. For me, I shared these details in therapy over thirty years ago. That was a positive experience for me, but when I shared my story again with other victims and heard their stories, only then did I feel validated and supported in my experience. Additionally, I had a young woman who is a sexual assault survivor read that portion of the book. She said after reading that portion, it helped validate her own experience. On the flip side, I hope the graphic details help those who love survivors by giving them a glimpse of the brutal, soul-crushing violence that survivors experience. I do not sugarcoat it. But it is a short portion of the whole book, and it comes in early. But if you read on, you will find more beauty and healing. This was affirmed time and time again by those who helped edit the book, and it was said best by Denise Thompson: “It is horrifyingly beautiful!”

Did writing help bring more healing to you?  The book took almost five years to write, because I needed to do more work on my healing. I had to think, process, and figure out how to convey in words the work I was doing as I was writing. When I initially outlined the book, I had not included the chapter on “Little Sherry” or the chapter that dealt with my biological father and my Indigenous roots. I also wasn’t going to include the chapter on my other sexual assault by a neighbor. But as I wrote, I knew my story had some holes, and those chapters helped fill those holes. Also, as I did research, I discovered more ways my trauma has impacted me. And with that, more work had to be done. Healing is work. It is acknowledging the ways trauma has harmed you and impacted your relationships with yourself, your family, and your friends. Healing is also not letting your trauma define you but informing you of why you respond the way you do. Healing is working towards changing those unhealthy responses into a more healthy and whole way of living.

What is your hope for Reclaimed & Restored as it is being launched? Since I am self-publishing, I have no illusions that this will make the New York Times Bestseller list. That was never my goal. I do hope that readers share this book with friends and families. I hope when readers finish the book, they take a minute to post reviews on Amazon and Goodreads. This will help the algorithms and expose other readers to the book. I pray that the book finds its way into the hands of those who need it the most. I hope, as other books have done for me, it helps victims identify the ways trauma has impacted them but gives them hope that healing is possible.

How did your family feel about you writing this book? I did ask for permission from everyone whose story I included. I did try to keep it to my story, and not include their feelings or experiences. Everyone in my family has been supportive, including my mother and my siblings. But I am not going to deny or minimize the fact that some or all of us will have some difficult feelings to process once the book is released. But I do know that all of us have lived better lives after that experience was over than we lived during it, and I am grateful for that.

After you get your copy and have time to read Reclaimed & Restored, I would love to answer any more questions you might have. I want to hear your feedback. My only caveat: if you find a typo, give me a moment to bask in the newborn stage of my book. Editing is hard work, and I just want to savor the success of the book launch before hearing about a comma mistake.

Six days till Reclaimed & Restored is launched!!!!

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Dear Little Sherry

“Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord,” Psalm 127:3

Dear Little Sherry,

            I want to start off by saying I love you and I am so thankful that you were brave and survived, but I so wish things had been different for you.

            I wish you had had pretty dresses that you could twirl in. I wish you could have felt like a princess and beamed with delight that you were enough. I am sorry that you wore leggings and jeans that were ripped in between your legs because of your thighs rubbing together. I am sorry that you had to wear the army green jacket that made you feel ugly. I would give you more pink and yellow, colors that made you feel beautiful and cheerful, the child you were meant to be.

            I wish someone had taken the time to make breakfast for you. I wish they had poured your cold grape juice in a glass like you preferred and made you soft scrambled eggs or oatmeal. You deserved someone to make your favorite meal special.

            I wish you had laughed more and not been laughed at. I would sit with you and watch the funny cartoons like Bugs Bunny and listen to your giggle. I am sure your laughter would have filled the room with sunshine.

            I wish you had played more. I don’t remember when you stopped playing, but I know you have no memories of toys or using your imagination except to escape your abuse. I can imagine you playing for hours with things like Barbies or baby dolls. Maybe you would have built things with blocks or designed pictures with art supplies.

            I wish someone had written notes to you on your first day of school, letting you know they believed in you and that you would make friends. I wish someone had told you that you were a good big sister, and not held you accountable for all the things that went wrong.

            I wish you had been tucked in at night, with a special blanket and stuffed animal, and had a story read to you that made you dream. I wish someone would have asked you what your favorite thing was for the day, and you would tell them about a fun activity at school. I wish you had a safe place to go when you had nightmares, instead of trembling in your bed from the fear of something that no child should ever dream of, let alone experience.

            I wish someone had encouraged you to take more walks in nature and look for the beauty God had created. As an adult, you get excited when you see vibrant verdant moss covering a path or wild purple mushrooms growing next to a tree. I can only imagine the squeals of delight you would have made as a child seeing the explosive beauty of nature. I wish someone had taken you to the library after these walks so your insatiable curiosity could be satisfied instead of spending hours in front of the television.

            I wish you had someone safe to share your common childhood disappointments with, instead of stuffing them with food. When you were bullied on the bus, I wish you had been able to come home and tell someone, instead of coming home to endure more bullying. I wish when you realized you couldn’t sing on key or dance with rhythm, that someone had told you to sing and dance anyway. I wish they had played your favorite music and had a dance party with you at home.

            I wish someone had encouraged you to write, even if you struggled with your penmanship. I wish they would have realized how much you identified with Jo in Little Women and bought you a desk so you could create stories and newspapers. I wish they had bought you special journals so you could write down what you observed.

            I wish someone had shown you how to file your nails, fix your hair with a curling iron, and walk in high heels. I wish you had always had clean towels, top sheets, and fruity smelling lotion. I wish you hadn’t felt the responsibility of keeping the house clean by doing hours of laundry and dishes, only to find your attempts futile.

            I wish so much for you little Sherry, and I hope, as an adult, you find restoration for all the things that were taken from you.

                                                                                                Love, Sherry

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Prologue: Sunshine

“See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are.” 1 John 3:1

It was a Saturday morning when God ushered a healing moment into my life. It didn’t happen with me crying at the altar, pouring my heart out to the Lord, although moments have happened there. It didn’t happen with me coming to a revelation while engaged in professional counseling, although at times it has happened there. It didn’t happen with me finding a scripture and dissecting it till it imprinted meaning on my life, although it has happened there, too. Instead, it happened on an ordinary morning where I was unexpectedly graced with the Lord’s gift of restoration.

My husband, Terry, had had a busy week at work and at church. I can’t recall the exact details of what was going on. It could have been late nights due to overtime, or maybe he was working on putting some music together for choir, but whatever the reasons, my 4-year-old blond-haired, blue-eyed daughter, Maggie, had felt slightly neglected by her father. She had been playing quietly on the floor when her dad stepped into the room. She pleaded with her soft, sweet voice saying, “Daddy, can you please sit down by me?” He quickly plopped on the floor next to this child that we called our sunshine. She sat across from him and said, “Daddy, I’ve missed you. Can you please just hold my hands?” Terry gently took his large man hands and held the dainty hands of our daughter for a few moments, just gazing with love and wonderment in his eyes. He then quietly whispered the words “I love you,” and she beamed with joy, her mouth smiling widely, causing her eyes to crinkle.

Maggie and Terry on her wedding day!

At that exact moment, I felt God’s peace flood my soul. In Philippians 4:7 (ESV), scripture describes this as “the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding.” I felt God whispering to me that this is an example of the beautiful relationship He intended all daughters to have with their fathers. It is the relationship He, as my Heavenly Father, intended for me, His daughter, to have with Him. He continued to whisper that He was going to use my daughter’s relationship with her father to demonstrate to me what He intended. My daughter’s healthy relationship with her father would provide restoration for my troubled and ugly childhood. No, it would not erase my memories of what had happened. No, it would not make everything better. No, it would not answer all the why’s in my life. But He would take the brokenness in my life and continue the work of restoring me. He would show me how much He had loved me even when I was being abused and neglected by the man I called my father. He would show me the beauty of restoration.

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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!!!