Monday, March 07, 2005

Collection of Stories and Poetry - Domestic Violence

Posted by Hannah at 8:23 AM

Update 7/2/08 - I found that is link is no longer working, and I wanted to update because the site has alot of helpful information that could help others. I lift my eyes ministries is where I got the material, and I have searched the site to see if I could find these stories. I'm not sure if I didn't look good enough, or if they have been removed. It was stories I found that I felt at the time would help parties that are dealing with 'Emotional Abuse' within Christian Marriages.

Come to Me:

Heavy Burdens

"Why was my burden so heavy?" I slammed the office door and leaned against it. "Is there no rest from this life?" I wondered. I stumbled to my desk and dropped into my chair, pressing my face into my arms to shut out the frustrations of my existence.

"Oh God," I cried, "let me sleep. Let me sleep forever and never wake up!" With a deep sob I tried to will myself into oblivion, then welcomed the blackness that came over me.

Light surrounded me as I regained consciousness. I focused on its source -- the figure of a man standing before a cross. "My child," He asked, "why did you want to come to me before I am ready to call you?"

"Lord, I'm sorry. It's just that... I can't go on. You see how hard it is for me. Look at this awful burden on my back. I simply can't carry it anymore."

"But haven't I told you to cast all of your burdens upon me, because I care for you? My yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

"I knew you would say that. But why does mine have to be so heavy?"

"My child, everyone in the world has a burden. Perhaps you would like to try a different one?"

"I can do that?"

He pointed to several burdens lying at His feet. "You may try any of these."

All of them seemed to be of equal size. But each was labeled with a name.

"There's Joan's," I said. "Let me try that one." Joan was married to a wealthy businessman. She lived in a sprawling estate and dressed her three daughters in the prettiest designer clothes. Sometimes she drove me to church in her Cadillac when my car was broken. "How difficult could her burden be?" I thought.

The Lord removed my burden and placed Joan's on my shoulders. My knees sank beneath its weight. "Take it off!" I said. "What makes it so heavy?"

"Look inside."

I untied the straps and opened the top. Inside was a figure of her Mother-in-law, and when I lifted it out, it began to speak. "Joan, you'll never be good enough for my son," it began. "He never should have married you. You're a terrible mother to my grandchildren..."

I quickly placed the figure back in the pack and withdrew another. It was Donna, Joan's youngest daughter. Her head was bandaged from the surgery that had failed to resolve her epilepsy. A third figure was Joan's brother. Addicted to drugs, he had been convicted of killing a police officer.

"I see why her burden is so heavy, Lord. But she's always smiling and helping others. I didn't realize...."

"Would you like to try another?" He asked quietly.

I tested several. Paula's felt heavy -- she was raising four small boys without a father. Debra's did too -- A childhood of sexual abuse and a marriage of emotional abuse. When I Came to Ruth's burden, I didn't even try. I knew that inside I would find old age, arthritis, a demanding full-time job, and a beloved husband in a nursing home.

"They're all too heavy, Lord," I said. "Give me back my own." As I lifted the familiar load once again, it seemed much lighter than the others did.

"Let's look inside" He said. I turned away, holding it close. "That's not a good idea," I said.


"There's a lot of junk in there."

"Let Me see." His gentle voice compelled me. I opened my burden. He pulled out a brick. "Tell me about this one."

"Lord, You know. It's money. I know we don't suffer like people in some countries or even the homeless here in America. But we have no insurance, and when the kids get sick, we can't always take them to the doctor. They've never been to a dentist, and I'm tired of dressing them in hand-me-downs."

"My child, I will supply all of your needs...and your children's. I've given them healthy bodies. I will teach them that expensive clothing doesn't make a person valuable in my sight." Then He lifted out the figure of a small boy. "And this?" He asked.

"Andrew..." I hung my head, ashamed to call my son a burden. "But, Lord, he's hyperactive. He's not quiet like the other two. He makes me so tired. He's always getting hurt, and someone is bound to think that I abuse him. I yell at him all the time. Someday, I may really hurt him...."

"My child," He said, "If you trust Me, I will renew your strength. If you allow Me to fill you with My Spirit, I will give you patience."

Then He took some pebbles from my burden. "Yes, Lord," I said with a sigh. "Those are small, but they're important. I hate my hair. It's thin, and I can't make it look nice. I can't afford to go to the beauty shop. I'm overweight and can't stay on a diet. I hate all my clothes. I hate the way I look!"

"My child, people look at your outward appearance, but I look at your heart. By my Spirit you can gain self-control to lose weight. But your beauty should not come from outward appearance. Instead, it should come from your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in my sight."

My burden now seemed lighter than before. "I guess I can handle it now," I said.

"There is more," He said. "Hand me that last brick."

"Oh, You don't have to take that. I can handle it."

"My child, give it to me." Again His voice compelled me. He reached out His hand, and for the first time I saw the ugly wound.

"But, Lord, this brick is so awful, so nasty, so...Lord! What happened to your hands? They're so scarred." No longer focused on my burden, I looked for the first time into His face. In His brow were ragged scars -- as though someone had pressed thorns into His flesh. "Lord," I whispered, "What happened to you?"

His loving eyes reached into my soul. "My child, you know. Hand me the brick. It belongs to me. I bought it."


"With My blood."

"But why, Lord?"

"Because I have loved you with an everlasting love. Give the last brick to me."

I placed the filthy brick into His wounded palm. It contained the entire dirt and evil of my life -- my pride, my selfishness, and the depression that constantly tormented me. He turned to the cross and hurled my brick into the pool of blood at its base. It hardly made a ripple.

"Now, my child, you need to go back. I will be with you always. When you are troubled, call to me. I will help you and show you things you cannot imagine now."

"Yes, Lord, I will call on you." I reached to pick up my burden.

"You may leave that here if you wish. You see all of these burdens? They are the ones that others have left at my feet. Joan's, Paula's, Debra's, Ruth's... When you leave your burden here, I carry it with you. Remember, my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

As I placed my burden with Him, the light began to fade. Yet I heard Him whisper, "I will never leave you, nor forsake you."

A peace flooded my soul.


Two Babes in the Manger

In 1994, two Americans answered an invitation from the Russian
Department of Education to teach morals and ethics (based on biblical
principles) in the public schools. They were invited to teach at
prisons, businesses, the fire and police departments and a large

About 100 boys and girls who had been abandoned, abused, and left in
the care of a government-run program were in the orphanage. They
relate the following story in their own words.

It was nearing the holiday season, 1994, time for our orphans to hear,
for the first time, the traditional story of Christmas. We told them
about Mary and Joseph arriving in Bethlehem. Finding no room in the
inn, the couple went to a stable, where the baby Jesus was born and
placed in a manger.

Throughout the story, the children and orphanage staff sat in
amazement as they listened. Some sat on the edges of their stools,
trying to grasp every word. Completing the story, we gave the
children three small pieces of cardboard to make a crude manger.

Each child was given a small paper square,cut from yellow napkins I
had brought with me. No colored paper was available in the city.

Following instructions, the children tore the paper and carefully
laid strips in the manger for straw. Small squares of flannel, cut
from a worn-out nightgown an American lady was throwing away as she
left Russia, were used for the baby's blanket. A doll-like baby was
cut from tan felt we had brought from the United States.

The orphans were busy assembling their manger as I walked among them
to see if they needed any help. All went well until I got to one
table where little Misha sat. He looked to be about 6 years old and
had finished his project. As I looked at the little boy's manger, I
was startled to see not one, but two babies in the manger. Quickly,
I called for the translator to ask the lad why there were two babies
in the manger. Crossing his arms in front of him and looking at this
completed manger scene, the child began to repeat the story very

For such a young boy, who had only heard the Christmas story once, he
related the happenings accurately -- until he came to the part where
Mary put the baby Jesus in the manger. Then Misha started to ad-lib.
He made up his own ending to the story as he said, "And when Maria
laid the baby in the manger, Jesus looked at me and asked me if I had
a place to stay. I told him I have no mamma and I have no papa, so I
don't have any place to stay. Then Jesus told me I could stay with
him. But I told him I couldn't, because I didn't have a gift to give
him like everybody else did. But I wanted to stay with Jesus so much,
so I thought about what I had that maybe I could use for a gift. I
thought maybe if I kept him warm, that would be a good gift.

So I asked Jesus, 'If I keep you warm, will that be a good enough
gift?' And Jesus told me, 'If you keep me warm, that will be the
best gift anybody ever gave me.' So I got into the manger, and then
Jesus looked at me and he told me I could stay with him --- for

As little Misha finished his story, his eyes brimmed full of tears
that splashed down his little cheeks. Putting his hand over his face,
his head dropped to the table and his shoulders shook as he sobbed
and sobbed.

The little orphan had found someone who would never abandon nor abuse
him, someone who would stay with him -- FOR ALWAYS.

I've learned that it's not what you have in your life, but who you
have in your life that counts.
Refiner's Fire

Some time ago, a few ladies met to study the scriptures.

While reading the third chapter of Malachi, they came upon a remarkable
expression in the third verse: "And He shall sit as a refiner and purifier
of silver" (Malachi 3:3).

One lady decided to visit a silversmith, and report to the others on
what he said about the subject. She went accordingly, and without telling him
the reason for her visit, begged the silversmith to tell her about the process
of refining silver. After he had fully described it to her, she asked, "Sir,
do you sit while the work of refining is going on?" "Oh, yes ma'am," replied
the silversmith; "I must sit and watch the furnace constantly; for, if the time
necessary for refining is exceeded in the slightest degree, the silver will be

The lady at once saw the beauty and comfort of the expression, "He
shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver." God sees it necessary to put
His children into the furnace; but His eye is steadily intent on the work of
purifying. His wisdom and love are both engaged in the best manner for us.
Our trials do not come at random, and He will not let us be tested beyond what
we can endure.

Before she left, the lady asked one final question, "How do you know
when the process is complete?"

"That's quite simple," replied the silversmith. When I can see my own
image in the silver, the refining process is finished."

Author Unknown


I have been going into my older entries to see if I needed to update them. Please see the link at the top of the page for the source! These speak of child abuse, emotional abuse and verbal abuse within a marriage. It speaks of heavy burdens, and not taking for granted things that Jesus has already given us. I'm sorry the first link is dead, but I'm glad the stories are still here for all to enjoy! Blessings.....Hannah!

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