1.14.2009
I didn't think God cared for me. I went to church as a little kid and heard about "God's love and protection," but I never felt it. Ever. I actually felt the opposite. I felt like God had abandoned me. Que the crappy reality I never faced or told anyone about until a year ago...
It was first grade at my first elementary school here in Virginia Beach. The teacher (who will remain nameless) was big on showing film strips to teach. I loved those little projectors with the reel and cassette tape that you had to turn on at the same time or the whole video looked like it should have subtitles. So she ques up the video, turns down the lights and returns to her desk.
I sat next to Monica. Monica was a little African-American girl who lived in an apartment in Plaza with her 6 siblings, mom, dad and grandmother. She was nice and that's all I really knew about her. As the video began, she turned to me and whispered, "Don't say anything." I didn't know what she meant, but I was soon about to find out.
Immediately I found myself in an awkward and uneasy moment. Monica had placed her hand on my leg and then inappropriately touched me. I felt bad. dirty. helpless. I had no clue what to do. So I did what any first grade kid would do who was never talked to about that sort of thing... nothing.
She did this every time a filmstrip would come on and ask me to do the same to her. I remember wondering why God would let me feel that way- because by little body told me it felt good, but I knew in my mind and heart it was wrong. I never said a word. Ever.
It wasn't until planning for a message on December 20, 2007 that I vocalized it for the first time to my wife. I cried and she consoled me. No kid should ever have to experience that. It kills me to think kids go through that daily across the world. That experience haunted me, I am glad I am free to talk about it now, but it set me on a course of behavior with relationships and sexuality that was out of control.
We'll pick back up there...