Are You There God? It’s Me Liz
The answer wasn’t at all what I expected
Having zero experience with what I was about to do, I waited until I was alone to avoid distractions and possible embarrassment.
Sitting cross-legged near the end of the bed, I closed my eyes and tried desperately to concentrate.
“Are you there God? It’s me Liz, and I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Feeling silly, like an awkward twelve-year-old fumbling for the right words to impress a boy, I pressed on.
Bowing my head in determination, I stopped giggling and tried again.
“Dear God, you don’t know me, but I’ve accepted you into my life recently and I could really use some help.”
It’s probably a big ask, considering I’ve taken you entirely for granted for the past forty-eight years, but I’m hoping you’ll listen.
I feel utterly lost, and I’ve made so many bad choices in the past that I don’t trust my judgement anymore.
Could you show me how I might fulfill my purpose in life and find happiness?
Teach me, and I will be silent; make me understand how I have gone astray. — Job 6:24
Is there something I should be doing to fill this elusive void I feel in my heart every day? I feel empty and scared for no apparent reason.
Oh, and God, subtle messages won’t cut it. I’ll need something obvious, like a blinking neon sign, or I’m guaranteed to miss it.
I’d recently been to my first bible study and learned that it’s no good to pray if you don’t take the time to be still and listen for the answer. I wasn’t sure how long I should wait but figured if he didn’t respond within ten or fifteen minutes, I’d get on with the vacuuming.
Be still, and know that I am God — Psalm 46:10
Still sitting on the bed, I waited impatiently for my inevitable epiphany.
About 10 minutes later, my eyes still closed, the cover of a book floated out in front of me and hung in the air just close enough for me to read the title.
Men Who Hate Women and the Women Who Love Them — by Dr. Susan Forward
Huh? My eyes flew open, wait, I know that book!
My Mom insisted I read it because my first marriage was in trouble years ago.
We were trying to make sense of my destructive relationship.
That book turned my life around twenty- five odd years prior. I’d forgotten all about it.
OK, that’s something. But what did it mean?
Did I need to find it and reread it; will that help me somehow?
I pressed my eyes closed once more and begged for more detail. I also threw God a gentle reminder about being too vague.
Seconds later, I got the slap on the head I needed.
I’d been contemplating writing a memoir about those terrible, toxic years I suffered at the hands of my abuser. It was a daunting task I wasn’t sure I could or wanted to take on.
With my eyes wide open, I thanked God for my neon sign, and said out loud,“So, you want me to write?”
“Do you think I should tell my story?”
Dr. Susan Forwards’ book saved my life, and I was extremely grateful to her for writing it back in 1986. Putting those details together, I figured I had my answer; it was my turn to pay it forward.
The next day, May 10th, 2009, I wrote my first chapter.
My story quite literally fell out of me, without effort or planning an outline. It was as if something or someone was writing through me. My writing skills on a scale of one to ten were zero, but somehow I knew what to do.
It was, however, the most painful and challenging thing I’d ever attempted in my life. I wrote tirelessly but found I needed to step away from the book multiple times through the process.
The emotions it provoked threatened to overwhelm me.
When I wrote the rape scene, I completely fell apart. It took me two years to pick my project back up again after acknowledging the torment I’d so carefully hidden away.
I wondered why God thought reliving my anguish would help me feel fulfilled, but I continued regardless.
Eventually, my story filled the pages and allowed me to step back and see my situation from a different perspective. I was finally able to disconnect from the shame and guilt I carried so faithfully in my heart.
God and I had more conversations, and I was able to not only forgive my abuser but forgive myself as well.
Ten years passed, it was 2019 when I felt another stirring.
I understood that my healing had progressed to a point where publishing my book (Silent Fright)seemed like it might be the next best step.
God said to write it, he never said anything about publishing it!
That’s how I justified the fear that bubbled to the surface as I considered the ripple effect of shining light on my embarrassing life lessons.
Getting vulnerable and putting all my dirty laundry out there for everyone to see still seemed like a big mistake.
In Jan 2020, under a pen name, I did it anyway.
With trust, I let go and let God.
That simple next step took my healing to another level I could never have imagined. The sky didn’t fall, and people didn’t point and laugh.
Quite the opposite.
My memoir isn’t about being a victim; it’s about hope and healing.
God helped me realize that my story is a powerful tool and that there are many ways to take bad situations and use them for good.
Exploring my creative side through writing was another layer of the message I received from that neon sign.
A silver lining I couldn’t see until now.
“Hey God, did you see my latest article on Medium? Thanks for all your help!” — Liz
Here’s another story about that rough time in my life…
I’m Liz, the self-empowered, red wine & coffee lovin’, personal growth fanatic behind this article. I’ve stopped shrinking into places I’ve outgrown and I’m a fan of straight talk and practical solutions. That’s why I’m here to Empower, Educate and Entertain. Grab your free Guide — 7 Days to a Better You!