Startling and Healing

Sometime in the mid-late 1990s

From time to time I get these wonderful little reminders of a time long ago in my life.  Yes, I am being sarcastic, very.  The truth is that very occasionally I get a flashback from my childhood – a recovered memory that’s been long forgotten.  I think God so wonderfully designed our brains that when things are too traumatic to remember, too painful to remember, too destructive to remember, we forget.  We block it out.  It is a form of protection that God wired into each of us.  Then, as God determines that we can handle it, He allows the memory to return which then helps to heal a wound.

I have experienced a few of these flashbacks and, frankly, they rock my world for a while until I figure out how to process them.  I have had several flashbacks and all are relating to some part of the abuse.  I remember one physically made me ill and I had to pull over to the side of the road and vomit.  Looking back on it now, I see that as me truly expelling that poison from my system.  It was the most vivid flashback, including having the physical sensation of the abuse happening, yet I think I processed that one quickly because there was no chance to minimize my response.

Then one morning in church we sat behind an older man who was bald on top and grey on the sides…just like my grandfather.  Before I knew it, I was propelled back in time seeing myself playing with my grandfather’s hair.  He always carried a comb in his shirt pocket and I would use that comb to play with his hair.  It was a memory of a thing that was good with him.  And that is what threw me for a loop!  I left church crying, upset by the startling vision of him, and confused by the recovery of a happy memory.

For days I was put off by this memory.  What was the point?  For years, I couldn’t explain this memory.  Then, a deeply insightful friend pointed out to me that perhaps this happy memory meant that I was healing enough to be able to see some sort of good in him.  Before, he was all bad.  My description of him had always been “he’s just a sick bastard.”  Does this memory change that?  Not really.  But it did show me that it is ok to acknowledge the good memories as well as the bad.  God showed me once again that He knows what is best for me, that He knows long before I do what I can handle.  But, above all, He showed me that He loves me enough to reach into my life and touch me in a way that is both startling and healing.