Trust becomes such a treasured gift. Some of our women spill out their pain like water – sometimes because the pain is so raw and bleeding they cannot hide behind it or see beyond it. Therefore, it is what goes before them as a banner of continuous battles, not knowing that love and trust is even possible. Some bury their pain deep and are struck unexpectedly when it fights its way to the surface through a smell, a song or a conversation. Tears are wiped away quickly with a turn of the head, not allowing the pain to take the floor – once seen the pain might become a torrent that is inescapable. Once seen they are no longer holding their shield of protection – their hands are covering their wounds.
Trust takes time. Trust takes consistent care. Trust takes a healing space of proven love.
Love isn’t surprised or shocked at the pain revealed. Love is what allows me sleepless nights, incomprehensible of my friends’ pain and inconceivable perpetrators…putting me aside to see and listen when they are ready and safe to speak. Love just listens. Love doesn’t negate the pain. Love doesn’t erase the horrors. Love doesn’t mute the screams. Love doesn’t blame, condemn or shame. Love allows the truth of their experience to pour out; allowing a small space to breathe a fresh breath of trust – even if it is, “I trust you more than I trust them!”
I tiny bit of trust is a beginning.