Tornadoes, Time, and Truth

In the wake of recent tornadoes we celebrate a new season and marvel at the presence of God in the storm.

A few weeks ago, our community was hit by several tornadoes. Some of our neighbors were directly in the path and suffered severe damage to their homes and property. One family had a large section of the back of their house torn off. Others have gaping holes in roofs or exterior walls.

The scariest thing our family had to deal with was the large power lines that had fallen onto our roof. The two cables, each nearly as thick as a garden hose, were live when they initially fell. After several days, linemen were able to remove them safely.

Besides that, we had minor siding, fence, and shingle damage. The kid’s trampoline was completely destroyed; picked up during the storm and dropped into a neighbor’s yard several houses down. We were without electricity and internet for about a week, hence my unplanned break in writing to you. Thankfully, no one we know was physically hurt, though the financial and emotional costs have been high.

For the most part, our community is back on its feet, but there are still broken fences, fallen trees, and signs of damage everywhere. Holes in homes are covered in blue tarp and duct tape. Branches and telephone poles have been cleared from roadways. Restaurants and stores are taking customers. Schools have reopened. And with schools reopening comes a volley of end-of-the-year and graduation celebrations.

My oldest daughter, Elowyn, is graduating 5th Grade this week. She’s a beautiful, blue-eyed artist with a passion for anime and a boisterous laugh.

Five years ago, I was extremely anxious about enrolling her. Because my dad abused me as a kid, I was worried he could show up at her school and I wouldn’t be there to protect her. The assistant principal listened to my concerns and gave me a tour of their building. She went over all their safety procedures, security measures, and policies, from bullet-proof glass on every window to exit-entry protocol. The place was a fortress designed to withstand everything from terrorists to twisters.

I decided to take a leap of faith and trust.

Over the years, Elowyn has thrived. One after another, all our girls have started kindergarten, then first grade, then second, and they grew.

But then I started getting creepy emails. The IP address on one email tracked back to a 20 mile radius around the area where my dad worked. It wasn’t conclusive, but it was suspicious.

And then someone started posting my home address on directory websites where I’d previously had our information removed. Every time, I’d contact the website administrators and get it taken down, but it kept happening. I also noticed that a phone number I didn’t recognize was always with my address. I looked it up. It was my dad’s cell phone number.

It seemed that someone was harassing me. They knew about my family situation and they knew where we lived, which meant they could figure out where our kids went to school. I contacted law enforcement for advice. They took a report and advised me to alert our school’s police department too. I was put in touch with a detective who called my dad and also met with school administrators.

My dad’s photo was passed around the school so that teachers and staff would recognize him if he showed up. At the end of each day, instead of exiting through the front doors with the rest of the children, my kids exited through a side door. That door was made of bullet-proof glass and could only be seen through or opened from the inside. Until a teacher inside recognized me in the car picking them up, they did not open the door.

The years have rolled by without incident. I believe this is due, in no small part, to the proactive efforts of law enforcement and school administrators.

I have always shared my story out of a desire to help and encourage others. However, there was also an element of self-defense to it. I wanted my abusers to know that, if anything happens to me or my kids, they’ll be at the top of the suspect list. From my dad, to the pastor who propositioned me during a church youth trip, to the man who dated me when I was a minor girl, I’ve put them all on blast, because they need to understand that I won’t keep their secrets. Law enforcement knows who they are. My readers know who they are. Heck, all my social media followers know who they are. None of these men can get away with harming me further.

(This is also a large part of why I encourage abuse victims to report. Yes, justice is vital. Yes, we can hopefully protect others from being abused. But also, if an abuser knows they’ll be Suspect No. 1, they should fear to escalate.)

And so, for five years of elementary school, my daughter has remained safe. She has never met her grandfather, and Lord willing, she never will. She has excelled in all her classes and achieved the Honor Roll. Once a week, she sacrifices her recess time to volunteer with pre-schoolers as part of the school’s Junior Counselor program. She sings in the school choir and is known among all her teachers for her advanced art skills, kindness, and eagerness to help. She befriends kids who are bullied, lonely, or shy, and always looks out for those younger or less advantaged than her.

Looking back on my own childhood, abuse was like a tornado in slow motion. It tore apart my childhood home, leaving me with profound trauma and relationship wreckage I deal with to this day. My dad (and my creepy internet stalker[s]) are evidence of this. But Elowyn is proof that evil does not triumph. Abusers do not have the last word. God creates beauty out of ashes, order out of chaos, joy out of sorrow, and life out of death.

In my book, Defiant Joy, I talk a lot about tornados. In the beginning of the book of Job, we read that a whirlwind wrecks Job’s home, killing his children. At the end, God speaks to Job from the midst of a whirlwind declaring himself more powerful than any storm. When God parted the Red Sea for Moses, whirlwinds coiled down from Heaven, splitting the waters and clearing a path to salvation. When Jesus walked on water, he said, “Be still,” and the whirling winds heard him and obeyed.

God does not want us to suffer. He does not desire, cause, or commit evil. In a very real sense, he doesn’t even allow evil, because he will punish every last unrepented sin in Hell for eternity. But God does work through our struggles, around evil, and despite our sin and suffering. He speaks to us through the whirlwind of chaos. He approaches us over the crashing waves of grieve. He reaches down into the abyss and pulls us up to walk on the water beside him.

In my life, God has done these things. Over and over the pattern repeats. In Defiant Joy I refer to this pattern as, “the down and up.” When I walk in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, he leads me up the mountainside. When I’m sinking amidst the darkest waves, he reaches down and says, “Don’t be afraid.” When I fear for the safety and wellbeing of my children, he surrounds me with people who will help protect them. When I speak truth in the face of evil, challenge corruption among church leaders, and write exactly what dangerous people don’t want me to write, even then his hand will guide me and his right hand will hold me fast (Psalm 139:10). I do not need to fear evil, because God is with me, just as he has always been.

As I look at my graduating daughter - so beautiful, carefree, and accomplished - I am overwhelmed by the goodness of God. She is a sign of his mercy and grace for everyone to see. She is proof that God redeems even the most broken of mothers. She is evidence indisputable that God is real, and he is here, and he will never stop loving us.

Soli Deo Gloria.