I am that girl in the cage

This note comes from a reader who wrote me about David Opderbeck’s post last Friday, and let it be said that lurking often in the shadows behind comments are readers who have suffered nightmares. This post can be read as a prayer from the Jesus Creed community that we care and we want to be with you in your healing. Words don’t reach into these spaces effectively, but words and presence is what we offer.

I relate to the girl in the cage. I was not stolen and sold as a sex slave. I was not kept in a cage. It was a basement. When the sexual abuse began by my uncle when I was 1 and a half till 7 years old, I have memories of being  locked in the basement, no lights on, hearing and feeling the rats around me. It was to keep me quiet. It did. It was so I would never tell anyone. I didn’t. Many of the memories God has mercifully taken away. But not all.

During that time, at age 5, I was sent to a Catholic church for Sunday School. I heard the verse “let the little children come to me…” and I finally found someone who loved children. My little desperate 5 year old mind understood. I asked Him to be my friend and save me from the horror and terror I experienced in the darkness of night. He did not save me in the way I wanted, but He did save me. Mostly, he took my memories. I am so thankful for that. It was enough to keep me from going insane.

Jesus comes to us in many ways, and some we will never know. I am just thankful Jesus came to me, and I pray that He comes to the girls in the cages, or basements, or closets, or the beds of evil men.