The Holes Left Behind

I want to step away from the chronological story I’ve been writing in an on-again, off-again fashion for the last three years, and step into the present for a little bit.

I’ve been thinking about my family a lot this last week, specifically those left behind in “the group”. Missing them. Grieving them. I had a very vivid dream a few nights ago about my aunt and uncle and cousins. We were all together again in Joe LaQuiere’s house. It was oddly the same; the big leather couches, the pink carpet, the large leather recliner in the middle where Joe sat and taught us. Only the people were different. My aunt and uncle viewed me with suspicion, and an arms-length coldness. It hurt my heart.

See, I remember the happy days. My aunt with her beautiful Irish smile and thick hair she would ask me to play with and braid. My gentle uncle, with his kind eyes. My sweet little cousins, with their beautiful laughing faces! I miss them all. I know when they think of me today, they hate me. They think I’m an enemy, out to spread lies and hurt them. They think of me as a bitter young woman, tainted by sin, by a pregnancy begun before my marriage…blaming my mistakes on others and out to hurt anyone I think responsible. That’s what they see. They don’t know me at all.

I wish I could plead with them, plead my case and my heart, and pierce the shell that keeps them locked up tight, and me locked out. I used to be a favorite. ‘Sweet little Sarah’, ‘she’s always so obedient’. They looked at me and saw a trusting little face, an obedient little girl, so cheerful and sunny! They didn’t see the scared little girl that hid inside. They didn’t know about the nausea in the pit of my stomach, the ache of fear in my throat. I want so badly for them to realize that there was no way they could know, as grown adults, the fear of being a little child in Joe’s house. The inner turmoil of living in that world, of having to see the things I saw. They think it was safe. It wasn’t safe for me. I want to crack the facade of the 30-something poised young woman, and show them that terrified little girl underneath, and search their eyes for kindness, for any understanding.

They have no reason to hate me. I’m not their enemy. I never will be. I love them deeply. I miss them sorely. I am not bitter, or angry. I’m in pain. I’m hurting. I have wounds inside that have only begun to heal. And I don’t look at them and see people responsible for my pain. I just see more hurting people. My uncle is grayer. His eyes are more sad. My aunt’s smile doesn’t reach so deep. I want them to understand, and I want them to see my love. But more than that, I want to see them rescued. And I want to see them whole and healed. Because the truth is, we’re all sick. And we all need a Physician.

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6 thoughts on “The Holes Left Behind

  1. Mortified! So sorry for your painful childhood and those of your brother, B.
    These adults should all be prosecuted & serve (or should have for those no longer living) sentences, including those adults who subjected children to abuse or to the witnessing abuse.
    I’m especially upset over the extreme cruelty, repetitive punishments, public humiliation, and adults’ laughter during these instances of inflicting pain on children.
    I hope you heal from these truly traumatic experiences.

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    • Thank you, DG! I have no idea why I didn’t see this before, I haven’t checked back on this blog in a year or two, I’m so sorry I missed your comment somehow! But I appreciate your heart. The sting of it all has faded a good bit since I wrote it, which is good I think, because it’s part of the process of healing. I’m not looking for vengeance, or even for justice any more, just for grace and forgiveness for all involved! It’s hard to let go of some things, especially as the consequences of what my family lived through have echoed down for decades now, and are still revealing new damage and heartbreaking situations. I still grieve for my family and my siblings. They deserved better. But…one day God will put everything right. In the meantime, I trust him that he will work in our lives and bring new mercy and glory through what we are currently struggling over. It’s not the end of the story!

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  2. One year since you wrote this entry, I’m brought back to your blog by a follow up comment left on one of your previous posts that I was notified of by email. This is Sarah, the Sarah that left some comments a few years back. I’ve wondered about you since I stopped regularly and frequently reading blogs (a few years ago), but haven’t come back to check here. You sound so compassionate. I’m glad to see a peek into your heart from a year ago. It’s a beautiful heart you have. 🙂 Just wanted to let you know I read this, and I hope you and that child and marriage you mentioned here are doing well.

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    • Sarah, thanks for your message! I haven’t checked back here in quite a while – I’m touched and encouraged by your words, thank you. Both are indeed going well, the baby I mentioned there is now 7! I’m so grateful for him, and his 5 year old brother! God definitely knew what he was doing. He brings amazing things out of our messes, for sure!

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  3. My parents were a part of this same cult for years. Reading your blog is like reading my own life, but written by someone else. I’m so glad that you are telling this story. I’m so glad that you are a survivor as well.

    I would love to connect with you if possible.

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