For A Purpose

“Linda*?” Silence. I waited a few moments and spoke again to the metal wall that separated my stall from hers. “Linda.” A few more moments of silence passed before I heard a defeated voice say, “Yeah?”

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked. “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she said. As I turned to leave the stall, I came face to face with the voice from the other side of the wall. Linda’s bright red hair was pulled up into a tight ponytail but my immediate focus became her right eye that was almost completely swollen shut. The ugly yellow and blue that surrounded it stared at me from sad, brown eyes that seemed to tell the whole story in a rapid succession of blinks. To keep her from seeing my own tears, I went straight in for a hug. She felt fragile in my arms, and I wanted to take her pain as my own in that moment. My heart broke for her in a way I can’t describe.

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked her.

“Is he still out there?” She responded.

“Yes.” I said. “Do you want me to get him out of here?”

“Yeah, I’m not coming out until he’s gone.”

The cause of her swollen and black and blue eye was standing outside the Wal-Mart customer bathroom waiting for her exit. For what? I have no idea, but I knew I had to get him away. I quickly got on the phone to the ACC Manager, and then waited for Linda’s abuser to be escorted out.

As we stood there, I told Linda how much Jesus loves her, and I reminded her that she was worthy of a love that didn’t hurt. Mostly I just leaned against the concrete wall in silence with her.

It made me think of my past. How many times did I need someone to just sit with me or stand with me or wait with me? I didn’t need a whole lot of talk about what I deserved or lectures emphasizing how stupid I was for staying. I just needed the reassuring presence of someone in my corner. I think I was able to give that to Linda yesterday, and for the first time I found myself thankful for those traumatic things I’d been through.

I was very young when I met my son’s father. A man more than twice my age. A drug dealer. A pedophile, I found out later. And he was abusive. One night he beat me from the bedroom to the living room and all in front of his little brother–a teenager who knew better than to interfere with the “discipline” he was witnessing. I was pregnant with Davis* then but didn’t know it. The kicks from Mark’s work boots landed like a wrecking ball to my stomach. It’s a miracle Davis made it.

This and other relationships that followed were the norm for me. My “picker” was certainly broken. Somewhere deep inside myself I knew I deserved the kicks and punches, the hateful words and broken promises to never do it again. That is what I grew up to believe about myself and subsequently took into relationships. I wasn’t worth the time and energy it might take for a man to be gentle and show kindness or patience. I was unworthy of love.

But God.

I met Jesus three years ago and began to learn how the Creator of the Universe feels about me. It’s been a slow process, discovering the many facets to the character of God. But it’s a process that has proven just how gentle and kind and patient He truly is.

My experiences in relationships were not for nothing, I learned yesterday. Not only do I appreciate Jesus and how He’s shown Himself to me over the years, but I have a deeper capacity for compassion towards those who are experiencing the same trauma’s that I did. Could I have stood there in silence with Linda yesterday with complete understanding of her circumstance if I hadn’t endured abuse the first 38 years of my life? I don’t think so. Could I have passed on the truth of Jesus’ love for her if I hadn’t felt it myself in my own walk? Not a chance.

So, yes. Today I am thankful. I’m thankful for my experiences however traumatic they may have been. They were for a purpose. A purpose perfectly woven together by Jesus into the beautiful tapestry that is the life He’s planned for me.

Thank you, Jesus.

*Names have been changed.

If you or someone you know is a victim of domestic abuse, please reach out! You can email me at utzamanda1@gmail.com or you can call the Domestic Violence Hotline at 800-799-7233.

Love Shouldn’t Hurt.