it's been 20 years!

This past weekend, my family and I reached a milestone that, honestly, 20 years ago I couldn't envision. Never in a million years would I have imagined the ways that dark Sunday night would change our lives forever. No doubt, I knew they would change... changes happened immediately! But I just couldn't have guessed how they would change. As I think about it, I realize that many of my closest friends probably have no idea that this is part of my history. On one hand, I think this is awesome because it means it has not consumed me and it does not define me. On the other hand, I think it absolutely defines me because so many of my decisions and actions are a direct result of what happened. So maybe they don't know because it's still not always easy to talk about. My husband will occasionally ask me questions when we see something or something happens that he feels might trigger flashbacks for me. I love his sensitivity about the matter, but sometimes it's even hard to express my feelings and emotions to him. So, because I process everything best through writing, here is my story... and this is how it changed me.
June 20, 1994... It was the middle of the night and 15 year old me was sound asleep in my bed. Suddenly I awake to someone in my bed, on top of me, attempting to rape me. I was completely pinned down and he had his hand over my mouth in an effort to muffle the screams that he certainly knew would come. And they did, I started screaming and didn't stop for what seemed like an eternity. I didn't stop until my Dad heard my cries for help and came to see what was wrong. I can't even imagine walking into that room, because that is certainly not what he expected to find. As they wrestled their way out of my room, my Mom came in and told me to stay put. To this day, I'm not even sure why I listened to her, but I did. So I sat in my bed and listened to my Dad fight and my Mom call 911. If a memory can be simultaneously so absolutely vivid and a complete blur, that's what that memory is. All the noises and activity are a big blur in my head and all happening at the same time, but I remember it all so clearly. The attacker escaped, the police showed up, and the next several hours are filled with visits to the police department and the hospital. My dad was bitten and my mom suffered a knife cut that required surgery. And somehow I only had to suffer through a bit of questioning and a rape kit. Still doesn't seem fair to me. We moved out of our house. I don't even know how that decision was reached, but I'm glad it was because there is no way I could have gone back. We moved in with my grandma for a month. Three of us living in one bedroom. I never wanted to be alone. I couldn't be alone. The thought terrified me. Somehow, we made it through that summer. The house got a fresh coat of paint and my bedroom got a face lift in an effort to make it easier to come back to. I remember the first day back... the new room was nice, but I don't think that made it any easier. We now had central air conditioning so the doors and windows could stay closed and locked. I don't remember how long it took for me to be able to sleep through the night by myself. But however long it took, it was even longer before I was willing to be alone in the house. I was certain my life was ruined forever.
June 20, 2014... This is where I am today. Forever changed because of one selfish, foolish act of a coward 20 years ago (a coward that was never punished for his actions because he was never apprehended). But not all of the changes are as negative as I once imagined they would be. And my life was NOT ruined. I'm still paranoid. More often than not, I feel like I'm being watched. Based on evidence and actions, there is no doubt that I was watched before that fateful night because he knew where he was going and where to find me. That thought disgusts me. So, for the most part, my doors and windows stayed closed and locked and curtains are pulled closed. But I can proudly say it's not like this ALL the time... I have reached the point that I can enjoy the fresh air and sunshine in my house from time to time. Just not usually at night. (although, this weekend our air conditioning went out and it was HOT... I successfully slept with my bedroom windows open 2 nights in a row! Overcomer!!) You can rest assured my girls will never have the luxury of open windows while they sleep as long as they live under my roof. Sorry, girls!  I sometimes wonder if he knows where I am and what I'm doing. Am I still on his radar? I pray that I'm not, but a small part of me will always fear that I am. (In fact, as I write this, I wonder if he will somehow come across it and read it) I'm pretty comfortable being alone, but I prefer to have a phone pretty close by and in the back of my head I always have an escape plan for almost any conceivable situation that I may need to escape from. House noises (you know, the squeaks and creaks) don't bother me anymore. I still don't like it when cars drive past our house after dark. We live in a quiet neighborhood and as far as I'm concerned any car driving by after the sun sets is suspicious. Thankfully, this has not yet proven to be true. But the feeling will probably always be there. These are all little things. Things that may bother me from time to time. And some things that I will occasionally notice that I seem to have conquered. Things that will probably always remain with me. But if the last 20 years are proof of anything, they are proof that the intensity of most of the things that still bother me will continue to fade over time. In fact, there are now days that pass that I don't even think about these events anymore. I couldn't have made that claim even 5 years ago.But there are two big - HUGE - things that are still very present in my life today because of that night. The first being the absolute best thing that could ever come from such a terrible situation. Thirteen months after the worst night of my life, I joyfully claimed Jesus Christ as my personal savior. If that kid would not have forced his way into my home, my family would not have connected with Marion Mennonite Church the way that we did which means I wouldn't have attended the youth conference in 1995 that changed my life forever, where Jesus was presented to me in a way that I couldn't deny Him. And, actually, while we are talking about church and meeting life changing men, I can happily say that that church building is also the place that I met my wonderful husband. See, God has a plan in everything. Do I wish I could have met my savior and my husband under different circumstances? Absolutely! But, if I had to do it all over again and that was the only way I could meet those two men, it was worth every tear cried, every sleepless night, every glance over my shoulder. Everything.
The second thing I still deal with is the one I struggle with more than anything else. See, I am on the other side of this tragedy now. I went through the trenches and now I can look back and claim victory over that darkness. But this is my problem... I'm a mom now. If I was a mom to boys, I would sit them down at an appropriate age and explain to them how they are to treat a woman. I would tell them what is OK and what is not OK. I would attempt to raise them in a way that they would automatically respect all people so that something like this would never be an issue for them. I'm not saying that would be an easy conversation, but in my head, it's an easier script to write. But, for whatever reason, my sweet Lord has blessed me with girls. All girls. So now I am left to wonder... how do I tell them? when do I tell them? I can't pretend that we live in a perfect, happy world. I have to tell them what happened to me and they have to realize that it happens all the time. Do you have any idea how my heart breaks when one of my babies wakes me up in the middle of the night crying and all she can say is 'I'm scared!'?? Right now, after making sure there is nothing tangible actually scaring them, I just tell them there is nothing to be scared of. But as they get older, I get scared. And I will have to admit to them that there are things, real things, real people, that will scare them. When I tell them, I don't want the conversation to leave them fearful and paranoid and feeling helpless. I want them to feel empowered and fearless, but cautious and aware. In a perfect world, I would nail it with the first conversation with Eden and the subsequent conversations would be a piece of cake. But the very fact that we have to have these talks with our kids is because it's not a perfect world. And all of my kids have different personalities which means all of the 'scripts' are going to be so different. I know we will get through this... I just pray that we are all stronger on the other side of it!
I wish that night 20 years ago would have never happened. But it did. And it's made me who I am today. For that, I am grateful. So 2 decades later, there are a lot of people to say thank you to. Thanks to my parents for protecting me. Thanks to our family for loving us. Thanks to local law enforcement for doing what they could to help. Thanks to our community for the cards, calls, and hugs - all these years later, they all still mean so much!!