Isn’t this a lovely bedside table? Becky, my sister, and I shared a room from the time she was born until we were separated as teenagers and we had white bunk beds with matching bedside tables. Somehow she managed to hold onto hers but mine was lost. After our Mom left, we moved from our little house in White Rock to a townhouse in South Surrey and my dad, Becky, our brother, Matthew and I found a little stability, routine and peace.
A year after my Mom left my Dad started dating a woman, we’ll call her Sally for her privacy, who had four children. They had to move in with us because they were evicted, so imagine a three bedroom townhouse with an unfinished basement having seven people living in it sharing two full bathrooms…it was not fun, a complete disaster. We didn’t know them and they didn’t know us, we were raised Christian and they were raised Catholic and needless to say, Matthew, Becky and I wanted to run away. Eventually, they moved out and things sort of went back to normal, until my Dad married Sally.
My Dad found us a beautiful, big house further away and we settled in, all seven of us. Becky and I were still sharing a room with our bunk beds which was fine with us; we needed to stay together to protect each other. Our new step-siblings, two girls and two boys, were horribly abusive as was their mother and life was Hell. Just when we thought we couldn’t take anymore, the marriage started falling apart and my Dad kicked out Matthew first, then Becky and finally he left her, took me with him and gave me to my Mom and step-dad. Matthew and Becky weren’t allowed to take anything with them and when my Dad left with me it was in the middle of the night and I had to throw whatever I could into a couple of garbage bags. I never went back to that house again and to this day I have no idea where all my toys, books, pictures and my bedside table got to.
So fast forward to last week when I was visiting Becky and while sitting on my nephew’s bed, also bunk beds, I noticed her bedside table and it took me back. Back thirty-one years to that dark time in my life, even though it was only for a year-and-a-half it seemed like an eternity. It also took me back to my childhood when I was happy with my whole intact. Memories flooded back and I cried. I cried for the broken girl who felt like nothing like she didn’t belong, abandoned, useless, stupid, ugly, unloved, unlovable creature. I cried for the girl who was separated from her brother and sister, never to live with them again. But I have a God is bigger and greater than my fears, a God who always saves and in the words of Michael W. Smith, “He sees your tears, He fights your fears…Hold on, help is on the way…He said He’d never leave you or forsake you…” From the album Wonder. God’s word says in Luke 1:45…Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfil His promises to her.
I know how much I mean to God, how important I am in His eyes, how much He loves and how precious I am to Him; for in Psalm 139:13-15 it says “For You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from You when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.”
I don’t think I will ever know what happened to my bunk beds and bedside table but I am assured that God knows and I can face my childhood without fear, anger, hurt and sadness. I have a relationship with Becky and Matthew, although I have to work on my communication skills, because of God’s grace and mercy and my life is full of joy and happiness.