The little girl stood crouched behind the kitchen counter as the angry words of her stepfather rang out. She stood frozen as she watched all the events unfold. Her mother was forced to kneel down as her stepfather clung to the back of her mother’s neck with a tight grip. The little girl didn’t know what to do but she knew she needed to save her Mom. She knew if she didn’t, her mother was surely going to die.
The angry step father continued to yell and beat her mother. Her older brother ran to get a gun, but her mother begged him to stop because she knew they would all die. The brother reached for a sawed-off broom stick to hit the angry step father but the man was too fast and grabbed it away.
The mother screamed in agony as the man continued to hold her neck and ram her head over and over into the floor. The son pleaded for him to stop. But instead, it made the man madder. The little girl stood and watched. All she knew to do was pray.
She asked God, “What do I do to save my Mommy?” Then, God answered her prayer and gave her a nudge of encouragement.
The little girl creeped to the door and slowly twisted the door knob to open the door, and she ran. The whole time she ran she prayed, “Lord, please don’t let my Mommy die. Please don’t let my Mommy die.”
Salty tears began to flow and blurred her vision as she tried to run. She stumbled on a rock, but quickly got back up. She reached her neighbor’s door and began to knock as fast and hard as she could. He opened the door.
Her words stuttered out fast and confusing. He told her to calm down. Finally, she begged him to follow her to her house. They ran together up the hill; all the while tears still flowing and prayers being uttered under her winded breath.
The old man knocked on the trailer door, and a large dark headed man with an angry face opened the door.
Mr. Helton replied, “Hey, is everything ok here? Kimberly came to see me and asked me for help.”
He replied, “We are fine. It’s just her and her little saints up in here.”
The angry man turned to look at the mother one more time, and he looked her deep in the eyes with tinted evil and hate. With grit in his teeth, he turned to her and said, “If you and the kids are still here when I get home, I will kill you all.”
He reached for his keys that hung on the wall, grabbed them, and pounded down the steps. He started his truck and left for work.
The little girl ran past them and went to where her mother lay in the floor. She lay crumbled, hair a mess, eyes closed, mascara streaked down her face with wet tears on her cheeks. The little girl and brother dropped to their knees.
“Momma….Momma…please. Please…..are you ok? Are you alive?”
She whispered in a faint voice, “I’m ok, baby.”
Mr. Helton knelt down beside them and in a soft voice said, “I think we should call the police.”
The woman replied, “No, please don’t. It will only make it worse.”
The little girl replied, “But, Momma….he was killing you!”
The mother assured the little girl she would be ok, and the mother tried to pick herself up off the floor. But, she couldn’t. Her body was so weak from the beating. Her son rushed to her side, and together him and the old man lifted her and helped her to a chair. She laid her head back and tears flowed down. She stayed silent what seemed like forever. Then, she whispered, “Son, call your Aunt Sandra. We have no where else to go.”
This was just one of the many moments of my childhood growing up in an abusive home. I should have never succeeded in life. All odds were against me. We were a poor family and moved from home to home. My mom worked hard to provide for us as a single mom, but after she was beat that day, her body was never the same. I don’t know how else to describe that day but to know it was God that allowed us to all live. It was a true miracle. I call it a God Wink. It’s unexplainable. My mind has often wondered back at that moment as a little girl at the age of seven. How did we survive? Only by the grace of God. I decided as a teenager when I finally got serious with God, I would never live my life as a victim. I would not let my past define my future.
You see, we have two choices when we go through tragedy and hard times, we can choose to be a victim or a victor. I can always let things pull me down. I can blame my past and say that’s why my future will never be anything. Or…I can choose to be victorious! I can choose to let Christ heal my heart. I can choose to let people love me. I had a hard time just letting people in because I thought if I kept them out, I would never get hurt again. But, I soon realized, that people do care. People do want to help. And, most of all, Christ really does love me unconditionally.
If you know of someone who is in an abusive situation and can’t seem to get out of it, continue to love them, continue to encourage them to seek help, continue to encourage them to leave and that life does NOT have to be that way.
IF you are that someone that is being abused, seek out for help. Don’t think you are a failure or that you have done something wrong to deserve this. You don’t have to be a victim. You can be victorious!
“You listen to the longings of those who suffer. You offer them hope, and you pay attention to their cries for help. You defend orphans and everyone else in need, so that no one on earth can terrify others again.”
National Domestic Violence Hotline is 1-800-799-7233.