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Writer's picturesadie.speaks

Crossing Paths

I walked the beaten path

As in, I was beaten

Not the path


I walked the narrow path

As in, I was skinny and self-conscious

Not the path


I walked the wider path

As in, I was as wide as I was tall

(Barely putting one foot in front of the other)

Not the path


I walked the war path

As in, I was my own worst enemy

Not the path


I walked the path of least resistance

As in, I was easy and lazy and numb

Not the path


I walked down the wrong path

As in, I was wrong about so many things

Not the path


I walked down the path less traveled

As in, I insisted I was less as I traveled this barren earth

Not the path


I crossed paths with Jesus

As in, He died on the cross for me

And I ran into His love


Though beaten, skinny, fat,

a self-loathing warlord,

easy, lazy, numb, barren,

less and dead wrong —


I crossed paths with the Cross

I crossed paths with Jesus,

the Cross Carrier


I met Him on the road to Emmaus

Like the disciples of old

I met Him on the road to Damascus

Changed, by Him


It was never about the paths

I traveled

It was never about the pains along the way

It was always about a Savior

Making a Way

Parting waters

Setting my feet on dry land,

Promised Land.

Leading me,

In paths of righteousness

For His Great Name.


It was always about a Savior

Creating His image in a Garden

Then He, who surrendered Himself in a Garden,

praying to the One

Who called His Name

A Fruitful Vine

The Lily of the Valley

Rose of Sharon

The Rose of Bethlehem


Making a Garden Path

Beside still waters,

Restoring my soul.

Planting, Pruning, Watering, Tending —

Laying sure footing before

I would walk the Way

with Him.


I walked the garden path

As in, I was fruitful and flowering

My Savior walking with me in the cool of the day,

Path-walking,

—unashamed—

bushels of abundance

Fruitfulness in due season

Loaves and fishes multiplied

Walking with Jesus,

As it should be.


1:11am

5.10.22

ss:cjz


It was never about the paths I traveled. It was never about the pains along the way.


For many years, I tried to make sense of my abuse. It doesn't make sense. It never will. It's unfair. It's wrong. It caused me a whole bunch of trauma. It lent me a whole lot of pain. I have cried buckets and buckets of tears.


The only thing that makes sense after the storm is that the Savior walks with you. Jesus will offer you bushels of abundance as you walk with Him through the valley of the shadow of death, through your grief, your suffering, your hardships, and your unique traumas.


I know this because He walks with me. I could have never imagined a more blessed life after thinking myself cursed to a barefoot, pregnant and beaten down life stricken with poverty, addictions and fear of death by violence--for myself and my loved ones. He will walk with you, too.


October is Domestic Violence prevention month. Many women and some men (this is a statistical statement, not a dismissal of men's vulnerability to abuse) are still caught in the throes and entanglement of the messy cycle of violence. It is no respecter of persons--age, status, gender--it affects every corner of society. Sadly, I am reminded weekly that domestic violence and intimate partner violence is alive and well.


The National Domestic Violence Hotline can be reached at:

Many good resources are on their website for you or your loved one.


I really do not know the 19 year old girl who stumbled into a domestically violent relationship anymore. She is behind me, and I have walked many other paths in life since that time. But you might know her. You might be her. And you might be stuck on all the same dead-ends I was--my own worst enemy, a war path to make sure that I finished the hike that Un(incredible) Hulk forced me to walk in 1988. A hike that demeaned me and insulted the person God created me to be. Or, you may have been a victim of unwanted sexual advances and sexual abuse from a young age that placed you on a path that still haunts you.


There is another way.

There is a path to freedom from 'them', from the memories that haunt; from ourselves.


It was always about a Savior

Making a Way

Parting waters

Setting my feet on dry land,

Promised Land.

'Leading me,

In paths of righteousness

For His Great Name.'


May you cross paths with Jesus today.

For He is the Cross Carrier.

He lays sure footing for you.

He walks with you.

Walk with Him--

be blessed.


 

'Crossing Paths' is my husband's, Mr. Barnabas', favorite piece of poetry I have ever written. So, I dedicate this poem and this post to the man who has walked alongside me in my healing journey with Jesus for 35 years. He has provided the means to run this blog and has only been a source of encouragement to my writing. He champions using this platform to educate, advocate, encourage, and bring a healing voice to the chaos of domestic violence and sexual abuse. He has been a safe and sacred space for me just as I wish this blog to be for you.



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