"Thank God we can't tell the future or
we'd never get out of bed."
line from August Osage County
I have a habit of selecting movies with interesting studies into the lives of dysfunctional families; some parallel southern style living I've personally encountered. But I can never understand the degree of cruelty some people inflict on themselves and each other, all the while saying they love each other. In times of true crisis when they should be clinging to each other, offering comfort, find solace, the knives and poisonous darts of insults and accusations hurl freely, loosely cutting and piercing deeply. Once more lives are changed but not for the better.
Is there any end to the torment others impose on each other? When does this sickness end? Is there a way to right the terrible wrongs done against each other? Hidden secrets, lies? Tongues so acidic it sears the flesh off your bones; language so vile it destroys the purity of a mind. And what is left of the soul standing except an empty life and a broken heart?
How do you help people like this? What becomes of the children who have to grow up daily encountering such torment, such shame, such guilt, because that's what happens. The children absorb all of the dysfunctionality into their precious, innocent beings, seldom able to escape it or live normal lives. Living amidst drug addiction, alcoholism, sexual depravity and foul language. Escaping only to go to school if they are allowed to leave for the day. Only to return once the school bell rings at the end of the day to once more descend into the bowels of hell on earth.
What is our response? What is our reply? Do we dare attempt to reach out to rescue the endangered, helpless children or offer support to the adults who make their lives a living nightmare? Or do we simply turn our backs and walk away?
I have lived my life with physical pain becoming "normal", having to continue to live through each day with success or failure, but doing it, because I had no other choice. I understand emotional abuse which in many ways is worse than physical, because the pain never goes away. I understand how people do menial work to put food on the table, often working more than one job to make ends meet, but still having enough room in their hearts to love each other, making time for their children. I'm glad I lived in my little world I created for myself to survive, the place I still go when life is too overwhelming, too much for my simple mind to handle.
Maybe that's what survival is...finding an escape where the words and actions can't reach you, where you can no longer hear, see or feel. Life is safe, calm, accepting.
All I know is that Jesus can make sense even when things seem hopeless. And I know for a fact that He can turn things around and set the captives free. Like anything else, it's a choice we make. A hand extended that we grab hold to and allow Him to pull us from the muck and mire, the social depravity into which we were either thrown or stumbled into ourselves. He does that for us. And I for one am so glad, so very grateful that I have Jesus in my life today, every day, and for always.
I see and hear so much today I cannot understand, cannot explain or give words to, but I hope somehow by listening, trying to offer solace, loving even when I cannot fathom the disparity, that somehow I can be that testimony of the love of a Savior who can wash us and make us whiter than snow. One who can restore the years the locusts and the cankerworms have eaten away. One who can mend the broken heart and bring new meaning, new direction and purpose for His glory. It is never too late to begin again to be made brand new. This is the message of hope.
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