I Am Rahab, The Survivor

By Lola

I looked at my watch for the fourth time in the last half hour. I walked around the outlets looking in the windows, admiring all the pretty things I saw and making a mental list of what I planned to buy for myself, smiling at the thought. I couldn’t remember the last time I bought anything. I looked at my watch again. My phone hadn’t rung 20 times with the interrogation, the curses, the name-calling, and the threats. No text messages asking me where I was and telling me what was gonna happen to me if I was one minute late.

I shut my eyes tightly, shook my head, and opened them again. I focused and looked around; the coast was clear. I inhaled the sweet air deeply, strolling to the next store. It’s like a dream. I couldn’t believe it. I was FREE. Free to go to Walmart to pick up milk or gas up my ride, maybe stop to get a slice of pizza, or even take a stroll in the outlets — alone, all alone by myself. I was finally really free… Or was I?

I kept turning around to see if he was following me. Maybe I’d catch him darting into a store or lurking in the parking lot, watching me from his car. I started feeling sick; my stomach hit the ground hard as I glanced quickly at the faces walking alongside me. I was suddenly overwhelmed with terror and ready to run in case he caught me by surprise with a smack across my face or a blow to the head or a push to the ground as he did many times before. Oh God, what if I actually see him? What would I do? I had been granted an 18-month Protection From Abuse order that set me free from his physical prison but I was still his prisoner. When the judge evicted him from the house, I knew I was dead. He assured me that the piece of paper was as useless as me, and promised that I was gonna pay.

I didn’t want to get married to him. I was going to church and had just accepted Jesus Christ as my personal savior. I was told that I was setting a bad example for my 14-year-old daughter by living in sin and getting pregnant when I wasn’t married. Now that I was saved, I had to change how I was living. Reluctantly, I got married on November 22, 2000 while wearing all black in a civil ceremony at the Bronx County Courthouse. Our union was witnessed by my mom and my daughter. I was 38, so time was running out to have another child. I thought of my daughter being alone after I passed and I had my son so she would have a sibling. I didn’t need to be married for that but I listened to others instead of my gut and got married anyway. It was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. Not even three months later, he was hurt on the job and never worked again. The devil was now given 24 hours a day access to me.

As with any of the devil’s devices, my husband appeared like a knight in shining armor. When we met he was charming and a real looker. He did everything that was appealing to a woman – from opening doors to spending money to charming my family and friends. He could quote scripture like a momma can recognize her child’s cry. Of course, I realized too late that the devil quotes scripture for his own purposes, and this dude right here fooled everyone. Just like my stepfather did.

Between then and now I have learned how good God is and how He had me under the hem of his robe, in His arms, always protecting me. I lived in fear. I hated myself for subjecting my daughter to witnessing this abuse, and my son, who is 18, loves his father even though he remembers the fights, the cursing, and violent behavior, and still fears him though he says he doesn’t. I learned how much God loves me in between my insecurities, when I make excuses for people that do me wrong, when I try to make everyone like me, when I am judged harshly by other Christians. I am good with that now. I’ve survived childhood abuse; physical, emotional, and the other one that no one talks about. I’ve survived much more in my life that very few know. A hot iron put within an inch of my face, broken glasses because they were on my face when I got hit, insults and humiliating fights in public, in front of my family, my friends, my primary care doctor, the phlebotomy team, gas station attendants, everyone saw. And after the divorce proceedings started, everyone kept calling me, people I hadn’t spoken to in years, strangers I only saw in daily life would approach me, all of them, to warn me that he was on a rampage and was going to get me. These people were afraid for me. I never left my house without my carrying permit and my protection. He violated the PFA not once, not twice, but three times. He constantly terrorized me and threatened to hurt my family. He took me to court several times a week so I could lose my job. He even told my son that the only reason he didn’t kill me was that he knew my son would suffer. As my son got older he would tell him things like he wished I was dead, that his girlfriend was my son’s mother, that I was a dirty whore, and that I enjoyed being abused when I was a little girl. I didn’t know he could do such a thing to his own son. That is the devil for you.

Despite all of the abuse, I no longer walk in fear. I never saw myself as all those names I was called. I know Whose I am. I will admit that sometimes that terrifying panic comes back with a vengeance and I find myself emotional. But with the glorious Father I have, my sweet, sweet, loves who are my squad of redeemed soldiers, and the ever amazing tower of strength, the man of God so full of compassion and wisdom that I married last year, I am FULL …

Because I am Rahab too.

Lola