Moving Forward

Today is November 16, 2016.  This is not a date of any particular significance to me, except that it is ten days following the anniversary of the day my ex- husband almost took my life. Yet, I find myself in a panic because November 6th somehow managed to tiptoe past me without so much as a whisper.

Usually, I make it a point to take time on November 6th to reflect. I usually reflect on how far my children and I have come among other not so pleasant thoughts that have a habit of sneaking themselves in. But, this year November 6th did not play any significance. The day came and went and never once did I even allow a conscious thought of the incident to play into my psyche.

In the past, I have  always remembered this day. Sort of a second birthday, I flag it, mark my calendar, set reminders, put up sticky notes and everything else to pay tribute to the day God gave me a second chance on life. But, this year... nothing.

I had the epiphany as I mindlessly glanced at the calendar and all of a sudden my stomach sank to my feet!
"How ungrateful could I be?, I can't believe I forgot!, On the fifth anniversary, though?" are just a few of the thoughts that flooded my mind as I quietly reprimanded myself for the oversight.

But, wait!

What if it's supposed to be like this? Over the past five years, I always set subconscious reminders of the incidents that ravaged my family at the climax of our deep encounter of domestic violence. Recently, however I find myself able to openly discuss good memories of their father with my children. I indulge them with tendencies that he had, things he liked, his favorite shows, and so on. In these moments, I catch their smiles or spend the next couple of minutes answering their questions about the man that was once an everyday part of their lives.

And in this reflection, I acknowledge that although for me November 6th was a day of deliverance, it may not be the same for my children. Although I often say that we were all delivered, I am speaking from the perspective of a mother protecting her young. From a woman held captive by the powerful grip of domestic violence. But, I am quick to forget that just like I had to mourn the loss of a husband  at some point, my children had to mourn the loss of their father since November 6th, 2011.

They have expressed to me that they have forgotten his voice, his laugh, his scent, and his mannerisms, but they vividly remember the images of the monster that he morphed into that evening.

Isaiah 43:18 tells us "Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past."

And perhaps  for this reason I did not remember to relive the horror of November 6, 2011. I do not believe that it is only by coincidence that I have started to discuss the positive attributes of their father with my children. I think that it is all falling into place by divine purpose. I believe that this is part of the healing process as well. And while November 6th will always signify new life for me, I will no longer let the malice of that day lead. 

SLANDER

"The action or crime of making false damaging statements to someone's reputation."

I shouldn't be surprised or shocked, but I am disgusted.  Since this was an attack on me in totality, I have decided to house it on both blogs. 

There was a time that I wouldn't say anything. I'd just take it all. I may have written my words in a journal somewhere in passing because my writing has always been my therapy, but that would be the extent of it.  Those days have gone. I write now because it is my gift, my purpose, my therapy, my sanity,  my ministry, my testimony,  the very core of who I am.

I do not write to offend, I do not write to spread false truths, and I do not write to anger. What I write is mine. It is my story, my experience, and mine to share with whomever is willing to lend me their ear and pour into them something that may help them or someone in a similar situation. I am not a fool, I know some indulge simply for entertainment, or to get a glimpse into what I allow them to know, but I cannot nor will I ever try to control their reasons. 

What I will never do is stop. 

I have always been a writer, but I started my expository writing after my family's extreme exposure to domestic violence.  "From an Officer's Wife", "Through a Child's Eyes", "Hardest Hit", and "Deliver Me".  All touch on some aspect of what my children and I went through.  Some touch on how the lives of others were dramatically affected by my misfortune, and one touches on my young children trying desperately to understand.  But, ALL of them are derived from truth. Every reenactment, every poem, every scene. 

See the thing about truth is that it speaks for itself. There are no inconsistencies or variations. 

Here is where my gift comes in... GOD gave me a story, GOD delivered me, GOD gave me a talent, GOD gave me a platform, and GOD gave me a testimony and I will use that concoction: GOD +TESTIMONY + DELIVERANCE + GIFT + PLATFORM = MY STORY, to glorify HIM and to bless others. 

The beauty of it all is that NO ONE can stop that. They cannot take it from me, they cannot erase what I have been through and they cannot touch where it will take me. But, what they can do in the typical fleshy way that human beings operate is try to defecate on my experiences, try to break me by accusations that my experiences of domestic violence are fraudulent, try to intimidate me with threats of putting before me what God has already delivered me from, try to attack my integrity by accusations that I will throw domestic violence charges against someone who has not offended me in that way,  try to hurt me by defiling the most painful part of my life, just to satisfy their own demonic purposes. 

I do not have to fabricate a tale to create my story, the truth again speaks for itself and just a bit of research will clarify that. My abuser is a repeat offender. My abuse has been documented in photographs on hospital shelves, the scars on my children's souls will corroborate it. I just think it's funny or rather sad and desperate that my character is being assassinated, my integrity is being questioned, and that my ministry is under attack. But, the enemy is a petty creature especially when you have been released from his hold. 

This brings me back to the title, "SLANDER".

The enemy will try anything to infiltrate God's blessings. So I am not offended by the attempt at defiling my character. I take solace in knowing that God knows and sees all. God knows my heart, my truth, my experiences, and what  I will write before  I even think it. 

In the end, I am a writer and art imitates life. I will continue to share my experiences because they are mine. I will continue to write because that is my gift.  My style is my own, if  it offends you, stay away.  Do not seek what you cannot handle. On the other hand, if it entertains you, read on; if it blesses you read on, and share. Even if my writings go unread, I will always write. 

I will write about domestic violence, I will write about being a single mother, I will write my plays, my novels, my children's stories, and so on and so forth. 

I encourage others to use their spiritual gifting as well. Use it to glorify God, use it  as therapy, use it to bless others, just do not let it go to waste.