"Let's toast to my last therapy session!" my girlfriend proudly announced.

"Last? Are you sure that's a good idea?" I teased her.

The truth behind my crass joke was something very heavy. Something no child should ever endure, and no adult should have to heal from. Yet many do. Sexual violation.

And for those spared that particular brand of pain, there's always negligence, abandonment, cruelty, loss, or just human-suffering-in-general that leaves so many of us "with issues." Hungry aspects of ourselves looking to be fed... fractured splinters of ourselves looking to be mended. But who can love us whole? A therapist or counselor? Well, they are great at teaching coping skills, and behavior modification. But loving us whole? No way. Freud, Jung, Adler... neither they nor their theories have what it takes to transform our wounds into something beautiful. They ask us to settle for coping, when transformation is possible.

And I know just Who to go to for that. God, the same One who transforms caterpillars to butterflies.

Some historical facts are better to be flown over, than crawled through.

Now that I'll toast to.

Perfect Victim

He saw from the first that I was perfect.
I did not scream.
I hid his ugly secret under layers of pain
deep in my soul. I told no one.
No one, that is, but You.
Please help me learn how to trust again.

Help me to stop seeing his face
on those that hold no blame.
Tell me, over and over,
that it was not my fault.

I pray for those he might have harmed
because I held my tongue.
Forgive me.
This wound is so deep,
only You can heal it.

Touch my heart. Make me well:
Master of myself, no longer victim.

- Lori Strawn