“He has not forgotten the one who is hurting. He has not turned away from his suffering. He has not turned his face away from him. He has listened to his cry for help.” –Psalms 22:24
Our family consisted of eight people, and we lived in our tiny 1400-square-foot, four-bedroom, two-bath home in a housing development in Martinez, CA. I lived there from late 1965 until July 1978.
During those years, I was forced to share a bedroom with my older brother Jeffrey, who is only sixteen months older than me. I had always thought it was a mistake for our parents to room Jeffery and me together, as we constantly fought and were at each other’s throats!
But at the same time, we were both there for each other, especially after we both were terribly beaten, sometimes separately, and at times together, we were lashed, punched, or kicked. During Those moments, Jeffrey and I would become friends and assuage each other’s wounds or share our complaints and anger about what had happened and the unfairness of it all. And maybe our brief times of fellowship and friendship were based on the principle: “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Still, Jeffrey helped me as my older brother by caring for me when I was abused.
At times, we’d become fellow cellmates, imprisoned in our bedroom together for hours or perhaps for an entire day. However, I think Jeffrey had it much worse than me, if you can believe it!
At ten years of age, my life began to exhibit evidence of being soul murdered. Although physically alive, my trust and sense of safety were nearly gone. I was incapable of bonding and receiving love or belonging to anyone. The hole this created in me was too broad and deep for any human to fill. I was unwanted and unloved. The abuse was so horrific that it impacted my identity.
During those abusive years, I developed new titles: The Discarded One, The Disgraceful One, and the Unwanted One, which began to dictate my life and identity. My mother bestowed those titles upon me during her fits of rage.
I became a lost boy, un-fathered and un-mothered by nurture and love. My home was my house of horrors. I found solace in living a secret life of fantasy and daydreaming, similar to the 1947 movie with Danny Kaye called: “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.”
In elementary school, I would sit there, daydreaming of some incredible feat or be far away on a voyage to uncharted islands of mystery. I always imagined myself as the hero.
After my father had passed away, I found a bundle of old report cards. One report card from my second-grade teacher, Mrs. Dodd, stood out. On the back of the report card was written a personal note to my parents:
“Thomas just seems to sit here in class, daydreaming.”
Growing up, you were always guilty in our home and never allowed the opportunity to plead your innocence. Even if one of my siblings tattled on me, it would often end up with a beating or punishment. The only thing protecting each of us from excessive tattling was the military doctrine of “Mutual Assured Beatings!” Even the tattler could be swept up in our mother’s rage, suffering a beating, too! So, we used tattling sparingly.
This created a hypersensitivity to injustice, yet I felt powerless to do anything about it. Even today, I am acutely sensitive to injustice against myself and others.
“Fate, it seems, is not without its sense of irony,” said Morpheus in the movie, “The Matrix.”
.
Like Neo, the movie’s central character, he was powerless and a slave to a programmed existence. My “sense of irony” showed up in my career choices. I believe my sensitivity to injustice is why I have successfully settled claims on behalf of fire and water damage victims. I am empathetic to individuals and families being abused by Impersonal insurance companies that place shareholders above policyholders.
So, unknown to me, the terrible injustice I suffered as a child had fatefully trained me for my vocation. Perhaps it is more likely that the sense of irony is not fate, but rather, I became attracted to my career choices because of parental abuse and their unjust treatment.
Had there been an actual “Morpheus” in my life, it would have been so helpful to extricate me from the matrix of horrors. But, in fact, there was. This is why my hopeless story is so hope-filled. The name “Morpheus” actually means: ‘He who shapes.’ As you read on, you will learn through my story that there has indeed been, and continues to be, a “Morpheus” in my life.
Nevertheless, an undeniable force is shaping me through a maze of pain and struggle of good and bad days to a present joy-filled life, which now I would never trade or abandon. It would be like saying to a diamond, “Turn back into coal,” or to a pearl, “Turn back into a grain of sand.” I’m still in the “rough,” so to speak, and in between two extremes: the lightness of joy and contentment and the weightiness of pain and agony.
This precise pressure point masterfully creates diamonds of joy and the pearls of contentment within my life. Pain is never the product of this process, but joy and happiness are. Pain and agony are elements necessary to produce “suffering,” which produces eternal qualities and degrees of character that can not be developed in any other way.
So, in a nutshell, “Don’t waste your suffering!” It is the process of suffering that can lead to a fulfilling life! And so it is, I believe, for you, too. Your story is not an endless season of reruns but of purposeful and significant meaning.
“Rest, the answers are coming…” Said Morpheus to a perplexed and doubting Thomas Anderson at the beginning of his transformation into “Neo.”
By the way, you are transforming, and what that is will be revealed in time. The process you are in may be painful and even hopeless, but everything good and true, of worth and value, comes with pain and suffering. It is all a part of living and transforming. Until then, my dear friend, “Rest, the answers are coming…”
Be brave enough to journey into your past. Not alone like you have so many times before; no, this time, journey back with God. Invite Him into your past as your guide, comforter, and healer. Ask Him for wisdom and understanding. Then, prepare yourself to forgive those who’ve wounded and harmed you. Forgiveness is pivotal. Without it, you’ll remain imprisoned and tormented.
This was the journey that I took and am still on. This is how I learned the importance of forgiveness and the value of tears. Tears are the beginning of transforming from The Unseen One to God’s Beloved One.
God bless you on your journey!
<!
Call To Courage 