background image
13
The War Cry | SEPTEMBER 2014
She dragged that beige, floppy, old
stuffed dog with his name sewn on
his chest everywhere when she was
little, and she spelled his name aloud,
"H-e-n-r-y, says Snoopy."
Now, at a time in her life when
nothing seems secure and everything
she's held onto is slowly slipping
away -- her children are growing up,
her beloved grandmother recently
died and her divorce is final -- she
is flailing, reaching for something
tangible to cling to. She is suffering
from mental anguish and recovering
from domestic abuse.
According to Safe Horizon,
"Domestic violence contributes to
poor health for many survivors.
Chronic conditions such as heart
disease or gastrointestinal disorders
can become more serious. Without
help, girls who witness domestic
violence are more
vulnerable to abuse as teens and
adults. Without help, boys who witness
domestic violence are far more likely
to become abusers of their partners
and/or children as adults."
Spiritual and family therapists,
also well�meaning friends and family
have offered my daughter advice and
counseling. Her pain is deep. To ease
her anguish she could reach for
medication or alcohol, but instead
she is reaching into her past for the
pleasant childhood warm fuzzy that
she clutched when times got rough
and Sunday school was enough.
I visualize her hands reaching
heavenward, pleading for God's
help, for answers. I remember her
delicate newborn hands, her tiny
fingers wrapped securely around
her daddy's index finger as we
drove her home from the hospital.
Her toddler hands clutching her
pacifier. Her little girl hands
clutching crayons when she went
off to Kindergarten and clinging
to Henry when she came home.
They held dance poses, a Wonder
Woman lunch box, achievement
awards and diplomas. She folded
them each night in prayer as I sat
at her bedside and listened to her
thank God and ask Him to bless
others. Her big girl hands held
her best friend's hand through life
and mine only for a little while,
because she was so fiercely inde-
pendent. I envision her adult hands
bandaged from carpal tunnel surgery,
the result of operating a computer
and cash register for 16 years.
My daughter's hands have reached
out to help others, to cradle her
premature babies and to hold her
grandmother's hand at the end of
her life. Her hands now stretch a
dollar to make ends meet. By day,
she's a nanny. Her hands wipe snotty
noses, dirty bottoms, toddler faces...
and late at night, her own tears.
She is actually searching for her
spiritual self. She questions why she
has had to deal with so many trials
and tribulations. She is seeking
answers that lie in God's word. Deep
in her heart she believes. She just
needs to reconnect -- with God and
Henry. If holding onto Henry makes
her life more bearable, I hope she
finds him soon. Wrapping her arms
around that old stuffed animal will
be exactly like Jesus wrapping his
arms around her, and I know she'll
draw closer to Him and begin to heal.
Mental health experts state when
we are at our lowest emotional point
and our lives are spinning out of
control, we revert to our youngest
emotional comfort level and curl into
a fetal pose, internally and externally.
With God's help we can slowly begin to
unfurl and renew our self� confidence
and trust. It takes time.
Not only do I envision my daugh-
ter's hands today -- folded in prayer
or typing on a keyboard, I also imagine
the unseen loving hand of God reach-
ing to wipe her tears, to heal her
aching heart.
My prayer each night for my girl
is this: "Heavenly Father, provide for
my daughter what she needs at this
time: strength, courage, peace, rest,
and above all, trust in You. If You
can't send Henry, then an angel to
calm and soothe her will do. In
Jesus' name, Amen."
Linda O'Connell lives in St. Louis, Missouri.
W
hen my daughter's children are fast
asleep, she clicks on the computer to
see if her childhood stuffed cuddly is
for sale on eBay.
A vacant space on a six�
foot�long shelf where she displays her childhood dolls and loveys is
reserved especially for Henry. Oh, she knows she'll never find her
Henry. It is not Henry she really desires. It is a time in her life she
yearns for, when she felt completely safe, secure and protected.