When I was eleven years old I was a young eleven. Certainly by today’s standards, I was a very young eleven. I was a compliant eleven — just the kind of girl who wanted to please everyone. I was just the kind of girl who wanted everything to work out well — to be happy — to be a family. Just the kind of girl one could trust to keep a secret.
Initially (and I believe this is most often the case with sexuallyabused girls) I didn’t grasp or understand
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That’s a question I asked myself for a long time. After I told my mother about my father sexuallyabusing me, it would be a long time before I would talk about it again. I didn’t say, it would be a long time before I thought about it again — just a long time before I would talk about it again. And there would be good reason for that — or so I thought. I was sort of under the delusion that if I talked about it one of
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It’s a tough topic – a tough thing to deal with, a tough thing to talk about. And that’s why it isn’t. talked. about. It’s also not talked about because of fear — a deep seated fear of reprisal. It is deep and it is real.
I don’t talk about a lot of things specifically here on the blog… you know — it’s risky to share stuff. Once you publicly share stuff, you run the risk of being pegged as something. You know how you say to someone: I
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Some Home Making’s February 13, 2006
I had (late last night) decided that in the morning I’d like to share “Some Home Making’s” for today’s blog—and how faithful is the LORD—I had a direction late yesterday and He showed that He had a purpose for it today.
Our friend sent us an email this morning: “Type in your home address or a family members’ address. The web site will bring up a map of your neighborhood with small colored boxes on it. The small House icon represents your
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