Lord, Jesus. The first photo that popped into my head was my kindergarten school picture. I used to laugh when I saw that picture, but the laughs have faded. What’s missing from that picture is my innocence. That smirk on my face doesn’t show the trauma and fear I was living with. This pic doesn’t show the smile or happy-go-lucky life of a 5-year-old who was being repeatedly molested. It doesn’t show the confusion, or my questions of right vs. wrong that I was feeling and questioning. The ‘normal’ smile of my 5-year-old self did not exist. The slow death of my spirit had already begun, but that was yet not evident. Remembering this picture again; I hoped to see a little dreamer. Instead; only the defiant, cocky smile of a hurting child stares back at me. That little smirk hid a world of hurt. It covered the newfound knowledge that no 5-year-old child should have. My God. I have so much healing to do.
