Worst of the Worst

Spent the night with little children personalities just crying, “Jesus,Jesus.” As hell poured over us like a vicious storm. Tears ran like someone being chased. Intensity rose to the sky. Not sure what was happening at first. And slowly, I began to understand. My heart sobbed violently.

Another hidden layer of even more deeply abused children personalities has surfaced. Breathless. I don’t know how to stand through this round. Been knocked down too many times. My eyes can’t bear to see what these little ones are seeing.

These little ones are completely terrified of everyone. Even of familiar, trusted friends of other alters. They see everyone as abusers. They see everyone abusing them. So they trust nobody. Never have they seen a drop of love. Not even the size of a tear. Never has touch been kind. They have never been anywhere. Other than trapped in the torture. They have never played. Never smiled. Never laughed. Never felt safe. Memories are enemies. They tackle us down and smear us around in the filth.

These little ones, completely alone in life. They don’t even know about Jesus. Abandoned in the past. As abusers pierce their innocent soul with each means of torture they used. The physical pain I feel now, is what they felt then. The drowning fear is what they felt then. I want to scream til it stops. But nobody can make it stop.

It was a nightmare, in the barn,on the farm. Horrible things took place there. But at the creek….At the creek….I don’t think I can say yet, what happened there. It is what these little ones keep going through. Some alters want to tell what happened there. Others, too ashamed. Besides being cut and slashed by the grandfather there, he found other ways to torture us there.

And as these little ones come tumbling out of hiding, I am coming to know the darkness they know. Coming to know why they have hidden forever. They have no one to feel safe with. Not even Jesus, since they don’t know Him. They never went to church like the other alters. They stayed trapped in the filthy arms of abuse.

Right at this moment, I feel something happening. Others inside that know Jesus, keep calling out to Him. It’s the only word that can be spoken. Friends online, are praying for us right now. Little ones that can move- are raising their hands. Tears plant themselves deeply on my face.

Earlier today, I received a word from God, from a dear friend in another country. God has given this godly woman- words for me before. The words she spoke today, began a new healing in me. They left an imprint, in the shape of God’s hand, covering some of the wounds.

Someone else bought a present for my little ones. Healing arose there,too. And I am sure, this little one that just saw Jesus for the first time- will heal more because of it.

Intensity grows. God is moving. And suddenly, gently- Jesus reaches out to this little one. He opens their eyes enough, for them to escape the abuse for right now. So they can see Him there. For a few moments, they can’t see their abusers. All they can see is Jesus reaching out to touch their face. Feel the warmth of His hand. Any other time, they would pull away from touch. But not now.

Healing comes, tenderly. Piece by piece. Tonight has brought more pieces together. I have seen, in the past week, bridges rising from the ashes. God’s presence is here.

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