Wisdom from the Trenches

She sits across from me – at a sushi restaurant, a coffee shop, in a living room. We tell each other stories – about our kids, our travels, our days. We laugh…until we don’t. Her face and tone change. She opens up about the abuse or the assault years ago – at the hands of her uncle, grandfather, family friend, sibling, father, cousin, fellow service member, stranger. She sits, her beautiful face contorted by a wide variety of emotions – shock, anger, rage, anxiety, fear, shame. Tears escape her eyes, smearing her mascara. “I haven’t ever talked about this. I don’t know why I’m telling you about this,” she almost always says to me.

But I know why. Somewhere between the fifth and fiftieth time this same scenario unfolded in front of me, I began to understand that God does not heal us so that we can walk quietly into the night or fade into the shadows. God heals us so we can return to painful places without being triggered, shine the light of hope in the darkest corners of the world, and help others find their way back to the One who can help. God has heard the cry of her heart for healing and He has brought us together, not so that I can heal her because I can’t…but so that I can testify that healing is possible, a better life does exist, there is hope even when all seems lost. Somewhere along the way, my pain transformed into purpose, and having a purpose made it even easier for me to face each new day.

I am not a certified counselor (yet – more on that later) and I don’t proclaim to be. I’m certainly not Jesus or God. I’ve never studied to be a nurse, doctor, or emergency response personnel. I cannot heal people’s wounds – I’m very clear about that. But time and time again, I happen upon this situation and through these encounters I support others, learn more from my deepest beliefs, and become encouraged that I am becoming stronger and healthier. I listen, I validate, I empathize, I point in the direction of healing – a direction the woman may not even be aware that she is already headed. When I look back, it is through these conversations that I have begun to understand my purpose in life.

The simple act of opening up about trauma is the first courageous step toward healing. It takes bravery to say things society has deemed unmentionable and attempts to silence every day of our lives. Identifying the true source of pain is difficult, putting it into words for the first time can retraumatize, but saying it out loud to another person makes it feel excruciatingly real. For those strong women who have taken this first step, please know that it is a huge step forward in life just to articulate the pain hidden inside one’s heart. As Brene Brown so succinctly tells us, “Vulnerability is our most accurate measurement of courage.” It really is. It takes guts to admit you’ve been hurt and it takes tremendous bravery to admit you need help. Each woman who has opened her heart in this manner has already begun the healing journey. In that beginning, each of these women has taught me valuable lessons about courage, humility, my mission in this life, and the incredible gifts hidden in the depths of deep despair and pain. While I may have pointed them toward hope and healing, they each pointed me along the path toward a more meaningful life, where I found a better perspective on trials and tribulations here on Earth, I began to see strength where I previously only saw weakness, and I started to clearly see the job God is calling me to do.

Some people have shown genuine concern that the details of their horrific experiences might trigger me and I so appreciate them because they helped show me one of the first lessons I learned as my pain transformed into my purpose: adversity builds empathy. We have heard the saying “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” and I believe that, in certain ways, this statement is true; but the reality is that what doesn’t kill you actually makes you kinder.

Individuals who have gone through suffering and who understand that what happened to them was wrong seem to be far more sensitive about others’ feelings and are more likely to treat others with compassion. Many of the people I have met who have gone through some of the worst experiences imaginable in life are the kindest, most empathetic people I know. In fact, I have had the privilege to meet many people from around the world and, while individuals who have not been deeply wounded are wonderful people, the individuals who top the charts as most passionate about helping others, most empathetic, most generous, most selfless, most kind – not one comes without a tragic backstory.

Life is like fire. It is beautiful and dangerous all at the same time. It has a way of enchanting us, but can also scar us from time to time…and if a person doesn’t have a ding here or there, they are either in denial or have never truly lived. In each painful circumstance is the hidden gift of empathy, our ability to better understand what others are feeling and to sit with them in that emotion. The trick is to take the time to sit with your own uncomfortable emotions long enough to find this gift within you.

I didn’t recognize empathy as a gift at first. For a long time, I was in denial that anything good could emerge from the ashes of my scorched heart. But each new wave of women in my life brought a better perspective on the lives we lead, the difficulties we face, and the wisdom we gain along the way. True to Jesus’ words, which were not a promise of hardship but rather a recognition of what is real in a broken world, we will all face trials and tribulations of many kinds (John 16:33). God is not a sadistic God, but we need to understand that, as of right now, the prince of this world is the devil (2 Corinthians 4:4, Ephesians 2:1-2, John 14:30-31). We are all living, walking, and breathing in a world ruled by a tyrant. Pain is inevitable, but Jesus was very clear that he came so that we don’t have to face this life alone. He walked among people long ago and offers to walk with us even now to give us peace and hope and life. In the midst of suffering, I drew closer to Jesus and, with His help, I found that a full life is possible here on Earth, despite all the troubles it lobs my way. He comforts me when I wrestle with grief, He heals me every moment of every day, and He resurrected a beautiful life from the ashes of my past.

The poignancy of the moment when I realized all of this is not lost on me: As my therapy was coming to a close years ago, my husband lost his job due to a corporate restructure. Uncharacteristic to his personality, he turned to me and suggested that we sell everything and move. Typically, I was the dreamy, nomadic one – the free spirit always on the move or lost in the thought of running away from it all. By that point, I had moved roughly eighteen times in my life. I was shocked that he would suggest moving, but I immediately agreed. We simply had to decide where we would go. I was devastated when my husband chose a city in a barren wasteland. At the time, I felt like we were being punished by being “trapped” in a literal desert. Looking back, everything has become crystal clear as to why we settled in Phoenix. The Phoenix is a mythological bird that is regenerated when its predecessor burns to the ground. The beautiful, new creature emerges from the ashes of what once was total and complete destruction. It was here that I began to recognize that good can come from grief, beauty can exist after a bonfire, and pain can be used for a purpose. Like streams in a wasteland, God taught me powerful lessons in this desert that gave rise to a new and more fulfilling existence, and my life took a meaningful turn for the better.

Friedrich Nietzsche famously wrote so long ago, “He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how.” Trauma we experience in this life is not made right by finding meaning in the aftermath of it. Sexual trauma is a crime against a person’s body, mind, and soul. It is a tool used by evil to kill a victim’s hope, steal their joy, and destroy their life. This is never okay. But in the courageous fight to move forward from a painful situation, those who do well have found that accepting the purpose that emerges from the pain makes living in the aftermath of trauma so much more bearable. Nietzsche was right: When we have a why, we can bear any how.

This was precisely the lesson I learned through my conversations with women over the years. Healing from what was once an incredibly painful situation helped me find the gift of empathy. Contrary to these ladies’ fears, I am not triggered or emotionally damaged in any way as I sit and listen to the cries of their hearts. I am most comfortable when I am sitting with a hurt individual, witnessing her bravery as she names her wounds, validating her past experiences as traumatic, empathizing with the pain someone else’s sinful choices caused her, and supporting her as she begins her healing journey. I feel grief for the suffering person and the cruel hand life has dealt them. My heart breaks for them over all that they have lost. But I don’t feel despair because I hold fast to hope, even in – especially in – the dark places. Our stories might be similar. The grief is definitely familiar. I know this place, but I also know the way to freedom…and that has made all the difference.