It takes some kind of courage to hope after you’ve been hurt so deeply. Recognizing such courage in both you and your son ♥️ So glad these words met you at the right time, and I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through that you do not deserve.
I feel this on so many levels. Our kids were a little older than yours, they each had their birthdays soon after the explosion 💥 (10 and 12) and being rejected by their best friends (family of the Pastor) their pain was and is deep and complex. Seeing their parents in tears, a mess, not able to function… and then going to a “safe church” where triggers would continue to feel like vomiting and collapse in a pool of tears in front of all there.
And my daughter, she found her place. She found the youth group to be embracing and loving. And yes the prayer requests have been interesting from her too.
It’s a journey of vomit and light and hope. 1.5 years in.
I’m feeling so much gratitude to you for sharing this with me. Thank you. And I’m so so sorry that you get it. “A journey of vomit and light and hope.” 🥺❤️🙏🏻
Wow, talk about a wink from God. I’m writing this from a friend’s house in Orlando! I just pulled open Substack to think through an Advent series that explores John’s use of four Jewish feasts (Sabbath, Passover, Tabernacles, Dedication) as they were affected by religious abuse and trauma. Tears welled up reading about your son’s experience. Our son was 10 when we were excommunicated, and he too lost his friends overnight. Thank you for sharing your story and this awesome grace of your son’s courage. I just shared this quote in a chat with my subscribers that sets the stage for what I’m thinking through. It captures the pain of the liturgical calendar after spiritual abuse: “We’ve got a community, a little Christian community, that’s been told ‘We don’t want you when we celebrate. We don’t want you when we celebrate the God of the exodus. We don’t want you when we celebrate our Sabbath. We don’t want you when we celebrate Tabernacles. We don’t want you when we celebrate Dedication. Outta here!’” (Francis Moloney)
Oh friend, this is so beautifully written. Thank you for sharing <3 And what a privilege to witness your beautiful, brave boy take those steps towards what he was created for — belonging. It was a balm to my soul in so many ways!
This is beautiful. I love your son! I’m continually amazed at his brave kids are. I’m sad you all experienced what you did but grateful for the healing you’re experiencing and sharing with us.
Thank you so much for sharing this. I’m a similar space. I have yet to encounter a safe spiritual space these days, but I’m grateful for the hope you’ve found.
It takes some kind of courage to hope after you’ve been hurt so deeply. Recognizing such courage in both you and your son ♥️ So glad these words met you at the right time, and I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through that you do not deserve.
Thank you for your kind words here — they continue to fill me with the courage to keep hoping. And thank you for your beautiful book. ❤️❤️❤️
I feel this on so many levels. Our kids were a little older than yours, they each had their birthdays soon after the explosion 💥 (10 and 12) and being rejected by their best friends (family of the Pastor) their pain was and is deep and complex. Seeing their parents in tears, a mess, not able to function… and then going to a “safe church” where triggers would continue to feel like vomiting and collapse in a pool of tears in front of all there.
And my daughter, she found her place. She found the youth group to be embracing and loving. And yes the prayer requests have been interesting from her too.
It’s a journey of vomit and light and hope. 1.5 years in.
I’m feeling so much gratitude to you for sharing this with me. Thank you. And I’m so so sorry that you get it. “A journey of vomit and light and hope.” 🥺❤️🙏🏻
Ollie! Goodness, your kids amaze me. You do too.
Thank you, friend!!! Olly really is a wonder. ❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹
All of you are. Sending love, hoping your (American) thanksgiving was lovely 😘😘
Wow, talk about a wink from God. I’m writing this from a friend’s house in Orlando! I just pulled open Substack to think through an Advent series that explores John’s use of four Jewish feasts (Sabbath, Passover, Tabernacles, Dedication) as they were affected by religious abuse and trauma. Tears welled up reading about your son’s experience. Our son was 10 when we were excommunicated, and he too lost his friends overnight. Thank you for sharing your story and this awesome grace of your son’s courage. I just shared this quote in a chat with my subscribers that sets the stage for what I’m thinking through. It captures the pain of the liturgical calendar after spiritual abuse: “We’ve got a community, a little Christian community, that’s been told ‘We don’t want you when we celebrate. We don’t want you when we celebrate the God of the exodus. We don’t want you when we celebrate our Sabbath. We don’t want you when we celebrate Tabernacles. We don’t want you when we celebrate Dedication. Outta here!’” (Francis Moloney)
Oh my goodness. Thank you for sharing this, Aaron. 🙏🏻❤️🩹
Oh friend, this is so beautifully written. Thank you for sharing <3 And what a privilege to witness your beautiful, brave boy take those steps towards what he was created for — belonging. It was a balm to my soul in so many ways!
Your being there made it even more meaningful and moving. We are so loved! Thank you dear friend.
This is beautiful. I love your son! I’m continually amazed at his brave kids are. I’m sad you all experienced what you did but grateful for the healing you’re experiencing and sharing with us.
Thank you, Blake. I love him too. Your kindness to me matters. Thank you!!
Thank you so much for sharing this. I’m a similar space. I have yet to encounter a safe spiritual space these days, but I’m grateful for the hope you’ve found.
I’m so grateful for your words. And I’m so so sorry. ❤️🩹
Thank you