Many of us were taught to be kind to our abusers. They were in our homes, families, churches, schools. The past 4 years have forced me to do a lot of unpacking. Especially as a follower of Jesus.

It makes this season extra raw as we grapple with abuse at highest levels.

There are wounds that weep within my soul I have kept tightly wrapped for 45 years. The bandages that keep them made of prayer, good wishes, the high road, + “keep going” energy.

Watching this unfold has torn the bandages + made me really reflective about what healing is.

A lot of what I’ve been taught about healing (and even kindness) was really suppression + submission.

It benefits the abuser. Not the person hurting. Those bandages were not bandages- they were grave clothes.

I’m weeping anyway. I may as well weep while I say my peace.

Trust your gut. And the Holy Spirit. Or whatever you call that little voice inside you.

Good morning. Buenos días. Today is Monday, October 5th in the year 2020 where I live.

Be safe.

If twitter were a thing during slavery, many of you who follow me would have told people held in slavery to wait patiently until their masters decided it was okay to free them + then hastagged the post #lovewins

Your advice is not love winning at all. Stop.