A zen master had been away from home for several days. He had not really enjoyed his trip. It was not that the monastery he visited was any less comfortable than his own humble home (which only provided the basic necessities for survival anyway). What he missed was the familiarity of his own surroundings.

The bed did not feel like his own. He missed the prayerful whisper of the breeze through the eaves of his timber house. The same bird songs did not accompany his morning meditation. When he finally started for home, his heart lifted.

Unfortunately, tragedy had struck in his absence. The Zen master arrived to find that his home had been burned to the ground. All that remained was a parched piece of earth, a surprisingly tiny pile of blackened ash, and the smoky smell of his lost abode.

He stood staring at the charred remains. “Why me?” he asked initially. “I’ve been away teaching, doing good, wishing happiness on all fellow beings. “What did I do to deserve this?” But he soon realized that the powers of the universe had not singled him out for any special treatment. It was just one of those unfortunate life events. Such questions could only lead to pain and depression. They would not help him to deal with the loss, find a purposeful direction for the future, or take immediate action like finding a place to sleep for the night.

A wave of sadness washed over him. He had really liked his little home and its comforting familiarity. For years his homecomings had felt like returning to a beloved friend. Then he reminded himself that, as a Zen master, he should not be attached to material possessions. Yet somehow the sadness seemed appropriate. It was, he assured himself, acceptable to grieve for a loss, so he stayed in the moment, mindful of his sadness, until it felt like it was time to move on.

Next he found himself wishing it hadn’t happened. He wished he had stayed at home. He wished he had checked to ensure that his cooking fire had been extinguished. If only he had done those thing his little home might still be there. “But,” he assured himself, “it has been destroyed. that is the reality. No matter what I wish, I can’t change that. Wishing for something that can’t be changed can only result in more unhappiness and suffering.”

As he focused on the charred remains of his house, he continued to be plagued with questions and doubts. Realizing this, he lifted his gaze to the sky. Twinkling stars dotted the dark backdrop of the heavens. A full moon smiled down benevolently. A sudden thought struck him and made him smile. “I may have lost a house but, at last, I have an uninterrupted view of the sky at night.”

—

Focusing on the blessing of what we have in the present rather than on the bane of what we have lost in the past keeps us moving ahead on the journey toward wholeness.

Therapist and author George W. Burns, in his book, 101 Healing Stories, tells of the time he and his friend, Tom, traveled to Mt. Everest by yak. The story shows us that no matter what life has given us we can use it for our good.

In the small Tibetan town of Tingri, Tom and I had hired yaks and yak handlers for our journey to Mt. Everest. Chomolongma, of Mother Goddess, (as the world’s highest mountain is known to the Tibetans) lies several days trek across the stony and arid Tibetan plateau. To the south of us lay the snowy white peaks of the Himalaya, stretching high into clear and rich blue skies. Like a tall fence, these mountains that border the plateau shelter it from the moisture-laden clouds of the Indian monsoons and thus form the world’s highest desert. Not a tree or bush can be seen. The only vegetation is low, coarse tufts of occasional grass that fight for survival on the rocky terrain. The only animal that seems to survive is the yak, and only the yak’s capacity to manage these desolate, high-altitude areas enables humans to survive alongside them.

For the Tibetans, yaks are transport, clothing, food, fuel, and, indeed, life itself. Their wool is knitted into apparel and tents to stave off the bitter cold. Their hides make jackets, boots, and bed-clothes. Their meat, combined with ground, roasted barley, called tsampa, provides Tibetan’ staple diet. Yak milk churns into a rancid-tasting bitter which, when blended with tea and salt, makes a nutritious,cold-climate beverage. No product of the yak is wasted. Even its dung is used. On the treeless plateau there is no wood to burn for heating or cooking–and both are essential at these chilly altitudes. The Tibetans found an innovative solution. They gather the yak dung, mix it into watery pats, throw it onto the walls of their stone homes, and leave it to dry. These dung discs are subsequently stacked on the flat roofs of the houses, awaiting their use as fuel to warm the home and cook the food.

As Tom and I share the hospitality of a yak herder on the plateau one evening, we sat in his yak wool tent, sipped yak butter tea and choked on the smoke of a somewhat green yak dung fire. Despite the smoke we huddled close to it for the warmth. It was better than no fire, and as I sat there, I was filled with admiration. “What a resourceful people,” I thought to myself.” When life gives them nothing but shit, they can turn even that into something useful!”

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That, my friends, is the challenge of rising from the dung heap of sexual abuse, dissociative identity disorder, or other trauma. When life has given us nothing but shit, we must turn it into something useful!

What are some signs that we’ve begun to heal from sexual abuse? The final installment of the story of Zohara shed’s light on this important question. 

With her new found wealth, Zohara bought more houses, repaired and furnished them, and opened them up as houses of welcome to all the poor and needy. Poor people came, and so did orphans and widows. She fed and housed them, supported them, cured them of their illnesses. Soon Zohara became known throughout the land, not only for her charity and her cures, but also for her wise judgments. People came for her good advice and for her just decisions.

One day, many years later, two families of poor wanderers came to Zohara’s house. She immediately recognized who they were: her mother and stepfather and her husband with her mother-in-law. But they did not recognize her. She took them in, actually giving them better treatment than all the others around them. She cured them of their ills and offered them generous hospitality.

At times, she heard them discussing some matter in very excited tones. Once, as they were arguing, Zohara asked: “What is it you are quarreling about?” Zohara’s stepfather replied, “My stepdaughter disappeared from home one day, many years ago. My wife, her mother, keeps accusing me of having caused this.” Then Zohara’s mother-in-law said, “My daughter-in-law suddenly left my house in the middle of the night, taking her baby boy with her. My son, her husband, keeps accusing me of having thrown her out. After presenting their disagreements and telling their unhappy stories, the two families said to their generous benefactor, “Perhaps you can solve these disputes, since you are known to be such a wise judge.”

And Zohara replied, “This daughter, daughter-in-law, and wife is actually here. I’ll call her to come and be a witness. Then we can all know the truth about what happened in both these cases.” When the families heard this they were shocked and surprised. They waited in suspense for Zohara, some in fright and some in happiness.

Finally, Zohara spoke again. “You are all waiting for Zohara to appear. But she is here in front of you. I am Zohara and this young man standing beside me is my son.” Seeing their reactions she wisely added, “But do not be afraid, for I do not plan to punish you. I have forgiven all of you now and continue to support you, because God helped me out of all my suffering.”

When the stepfather heard this, he trembled so violently that he died. The mother-in-law became ill and died not long after that. Zohara’s mother stayed with Zohara, overjoyed to be reunited with her daughter. Zohara’s husband asked forgiveness and lived with her and their son, working together to help people who came to their house. They had more children and, in time, grandchildren who continued the good work of their parents. May we all be like them too!

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The desire to forgive our abusers is a sure sign that we have moved a ways along on the road to healing. Forgiving our abusers releases us from their grip and frees us from being frozen in the past. Forgiveness is a choice that empowers us to retake control of our lives. 

Another sign that we’ve begun to heal from sexual abuse is a desire to use our hard earned wisdom to help others heal. If we allow the experience of abuse to make us better instead of bitter, we can use what we’ve learned to help others on their journey toward wholeness. Helping others who are suffering gives purpose and meaning to what we have suffered.

Sexual abuse is a hidden epidemic that is destroying countless lives. If you have been a victim of abuse I hope the story of Zohara has encouraged you to start or continue your journey toward wholeness.

Continuing with the story of Zohara, we learn that healing begins when we take control of our own lives. 

During the night, Zohara had jumped and crawled away from the house as best she could, until she and the baby arrived at the bottom of an isolated hill. There she fell into a deep sleep.

In a dream, an angel appeared, standing in a bright light. He said to her, “Here, my daughter, take this bottle of liquid. Before you is a pool of water. Pour the liquid into the pool and dip yourself in the water seven times. Do as I say and you will be blessed.”

Zohara moved as if to take the bottle and suddenly woke up. As she looked up, she saw the angel from her dream, smiling, handing her the bottle of liquid. She took the bottle and saw the pool of water in front of her. While the angel held the baby, Zohara poured the liquid into the pool and dipped herself in the water seven times. When she emerged from the pool, a miracle happened. The hand and the leg that had been cut off were restored, and she was whole. Overjoyed, Zohara thanked the angel for his help.

As the angel gave the baby back to Zohara, he said, “In this city, there is a big house for sale that no one wants to buy. There is a good reason for that: Whoever has lived in that house has died. Buy that house at whatever price they ask for it, and I will help you. Then turn the building into a house of welcome for anyone who is poor or sad or needs help. If you follow what I say, you will be blessed.”

Zohara went to the city, bought the house and waited. The angel came to her and said, “Fill the water barrel and place it near your door. Then you and your son must go and remain in the house. Keep the doors locked and do not answer no matter who knocks on the door and no matter what time of day it is. Do not open the door.”

Zohara did everything that the angel told her to do. At midnight, she herd a loud knocking. Remembering what the angel had told her, she did not open the door. The knocking continued. Who was knocking? a snake trying to break down the door and kill the inhabitants of the house. Finally, since no one was opening the door, the snake went to the water barrel and drank all the water. Then he threw up all the water back into the barrel. But now it was filled with the snake’s poison. “Ha, Ha, Ha,” laughed the scheming treacherous snake. Tomorrow the people will drink this water and die.”

The next night, again at midnight, the snake returned to knock on the door. Again Zohara remained locked inside the house. When the snake still could not succeeded in entering the house, he again drank the entire barrel full of water, swallowing the water he hoped would poison the people. Instead he drank his own poison, and he could not even vomit it out of his body. The poison caused him to swell up until he grew so swollen that he exploded into a thousand pieces.

The next morning, Zohara, who had heard the explosion, opened the door and collected the pieces of the snake. She put them in a big pot of boiling water. After a while the flesh melted and in its place seven jewels as bright as the sun appeared in the pot. Zohara removed the seven jewels and placed one under her tongue. In her mind’s eye, she saw a treasure hidden under the floor of the house, under the very place she was standing. Digging in that place, she found an enormous treasure and became very rich.

—

Healing from sexual abuse begins when we take control of our lives out of the hands of our abuser and begin controlling our own destiny. Until we decide to control our own destiny we will be controlled by our memories of the abuse and the one who abused us.

Healing requires help. The wounds of sexual abuse are too deep and profound to heal without the help of an “angel,” someone committed to listen to our pain and guide us on the path of healing. Abuse survivors need the help of a professional.

Healing requires facing “the snake” and refusing his poison. Running from our past only keeps us in bondage to it. Avoiding the painful and unpleasant task of working through our abuse allows the venom left in the wounds of our abuse to fester and infect us.

But when we embark on the journey toward wholeness and begin to experience healing the treasure of wisdom and strength hidden from us by the shame of our abuse is unearthed for us to make use of.

Sexual abuse can make us bitter or better. The choice is ours, and choose we must!

Life goes on, even after sexual abuse. Victims of sexual abuse strive to live as “normal” a life as possible. But unless the abuse has been processed and healed, the venom of abuse left in the victim continues to infect the victim and his or her and relationships.  Now back to the story of Zohara…

Soon after, Zohara became pregnant. When the time came close for her to give birth, the jeweler took Zohara to his mother’s house so that she could watch over Zohara and help her care for the baby. Before returning to his work, the jeweler said, “Mother, send for me when the baby is born.”

Alone with her mother-in-law and father-in-law and sister-in-law, Zohara felt their coldness and hatred. The two women were disgusted by the way Zohara looked, and they often insulted and shamed her. They called her “the half-woman” and other terrible names. Worse, they tried to harm her and treated her like a wild animal, without any concern for her feelings.

One day soon after, a baby boy was born. But Zohara’s mother-in-law did not send a message to her son. “Did you send any message to my husband?” Zohara would ask, but no one even bothered to answer her. Instead they took her silver hand and leg and hid them. Zohara, feeling alone and fearful that they would take her child away, decided to leave. To be continued…

—

Unprocessed pain, grief and anger from abuse often causes victims of sexual abuse to make poor choices in relationships. Abuse victims sometimes gravitate toward people who either continue the abuse in some way or at least enable the victim to perpetuate an unhealthy emotional state of being. It’s easy to keep blaming others for our pain. But like Zohara it’s not until we decide to take responsibility for our own lives and what is happening to us that the healing journey begins.

As we continue the story of “Zohara,” adapted from Jewish Stories One Generation Tells Another, by Peninnah Schram, we consider how victims of sexual abuse seek to compensate for what the abuse has taken from us.

Each day, Zohara grew stronger and her wounds healed. Then one day, the jeweler said, “I will make you a new hand and leg out of silver.” And he fashioned her a silver hand and a silver leg. With the silver leg, she could now walk without the stick. She was very grateful. The jeweler had become fond of Zohara, and he asked her to marry him. She agreed, and they became husband and wife…To be continued…

—

Sexual abuse always leaves gaping holes in our person-hood. Often, we try to compensate for the holes left in our souls by sexual abuse by propping ourselves up with “silver legs” and covering up our loss with “silver hands.” Addictions and eating disorders are two examples of “silver legs” and “silver hands” used by victims of sexual abuse to replace what the abuse has torn from us. Sometimes we seek solace in marriage thinking surely our spouses can give us what we desperately long for. But these solutions still leave us incomplete and limping much like Zohara’s silver appendages and marriage did.

As the story of Zohara will reveal, we can’t rush or shortcut the healing process.

How do we help someone when we learn they have been sexually abused? We continue the story of Zohara Which provides us food for thought on this important question.

When Zohara came to, it was almost dark. She quickly took her handkerchief and her apron and wound them tightly around her leg and arm. Then she reached for a low branch of a nearby tree and pulled herself up slowly from the ground. Using a sturdy stick she found nearby, Zohara hopped through the woods, in the opposite direction from her home, until she could see the lights of a village through the trees. Near the edge of the forest Zohara saw a cottage.

In that cottage lived a jeweler who dealt in silver and gold. He lived alone most of the year. His mother and father and sister lived in another village several days travel away, and when there wasn’t much work for him, the jeweler went to visit them. The jeweler heard a knock at the door. Out of the darkness he heard a pitiful weak voice calling, “Let me in. Please, please open the door.”

The jeweler opened the door slowly and saw no one. But when he looked down, he saw a young girl with bloody wounds, lying on the ground. Without a moment’s hesitation, he picked her up and brought her into the house. Quickly he washed her wounds and wrapped clean cloths around them. He gave her some warm soup and wine to drink. Then she slept while he watched over her all night.

The next day, she awoke late in the morning. At first, she was frightened when she saw the strange man, but he calmed her and comforted her and said, “Don’t be afraid. I will care for you until you become stronger.” She felt safe and told the jeweler all that had happened to her, but she did not tell him that the man who had attacked her was her stepfather…To be continued…

—

If someone, a child or an adult, reveals to us that they have been sexually abused, it’s natural to feel angry, upset, or inadequate to help. Here are some sugestions for handling such a difficult revelation.

Stay calm. If you become upset the person sharing this painful information may decide to stop talking to spare you and them the discomfort and embarrassment.

Be patient. This is difficult information for a person to share with you. Let the person tell you about the abuse in his or her own words. Do not press him or her for details or give the person the feeling you are interogating them.

Listen to what the person is telling you and believe him or her. Acknowledge what the person is feeling and how difficult is was for them to tell you.

Let the person know how proud you are of him or her for having the courage to tell about the abuse.

Reassure and comfort the person. Let them know you will do everything in your power to keep them save.

As much as you might want to, it is important that you do not make any promises you may not be able to keep.

In many states, if a child reports sexual abuse to you, you have a legal obligation to report it to the state’s child protection services.

Finally, encourage and assist the person is seeking professional help. Sexual abuse leaves lasting emotinal scars that affect every area of the victim’s life.

Like Zohara, abuse victims need us to provide them safety and care so they can begin the healing process.

Today’s post begins a series on a topic no one likes to talk about but everyone should: sexual abuse. During the month of January I will be telling the story of ”Zohara” a post at a time and sharing with you important facts about a tragedy that strikes 12-15% of girls and 8-10% of boys by age 18 (American Academy of Pediatrics). And that’s only the cases that are reported.

If you know someone who has been sexually abused I invite you to invite them to subscribe to my blog. Perhaps they will find information and encouragement to help them heal.

So, let’s begin the story of Zohara. Then I will end with some facts and observations.

Once there was a couple who had only one daughter, they named her Zohara, which means light,” for she was as beautiful as the sun. When Zohara was still a child, her father died. Years passed, and Zohara’s mother remarried.

Her stepfather was kind enough to Zohara as long as she did as he commanded. Often, she had to go to the market for him. At other times, he would give her his clothes to wash in the river while he sat nearby and watched her work. One afternoon he said to Zohara, “Come let us go to the forest to cut some firewood and perhaps find some flowers.” Zohara agreed, and they walked into the woods, deeper and deeper. “Oh, here is some good firewood,” said Zohara. “No, no,” replied her stepfather, “let’s walk further along, so we can cut some of the thicker trees.” It was quiet in the deep forest–only the song of a bird or the rustle of leaves could be heard in the heavy silence.

The stepfather stopped in a small clearing. As Zohara was looking at the trees, he suddenly grabbed her by the waist and embraced her, not the way a father embraces a child, but rather as a hungry, rough lover would do after he had been away at sea for many years. Although taken by surprise, Zohara quickly understood what was happening, and she pushed and kicked at him with all her strength. She bit and spit and screamed, although there was no one in the woods who could have come to help her. Finally, disgusted that he could not have his way with her, the stepfather threw Zohara to the ground and quickly cut off one hand and one leg. “This will be the end of you,” he laughed with a cruel sneer. That will teach you to disobey me.” And the stepfather left the forest alone.

When he returned home, his wife asked: “Where is Zohara?” “I don’t know,” he said, “She is a willful child and often goes off by herself.” What could the mother do? Her heart gave her other messages, but she had no proof that anything was wrong. Only when her daughter did not return home for supper, did she know that something evil had happened to Zohara…” To be continued…

adapted from “Zohara” in Jewish Stories One Generation Tells Another, by Peninnah Schram

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Sexual abuse is defined as any contact or interaction with a child by an adult, adolescent, or older child for the purpose of sexual simulation. Sexual abuse includes “touching abuse:” fondling “private parts,” touching a child’s genitals or asking a child to touch someone else’s genitals, gential, oral, or anal intercourse, forcing a child into prostitution. Sexual abuse also includes “nontouching abuse:” showing pornography to a child, exposing oneself, photographing a child in sexual poses, encouraging a child to watch or listen to sexual acts, verbal or emotinal abuse of a sexual nature, watching a child undress or use the bathroom, often without the child’s knowledge.

As in the beginning of our story, 90% of sexual abusers are not strangers. They are usually people the child trusts. Like the mother in the story, nonoffending parents often keep silent about abuse they suspect or know is happening, sometimes out of fear, sometimes out of shame.

Monday our story continues as we look at the scars of sexual abuse.

If you would like more information about sexual abuse or would like to speak with me privately about abuse in your past I invite you to email me at jim@hearttales.net. All correspondence will be kept confidential.

If you would like inspiration to seek help for abuse in your past I invite you to pick up a copy of my book, The Cracked Pot: Finding Grace int he Cracks of Childhood Abuse, at Amazon.com. Learn more at my website http://acrackedpot.com