Deja Vu

photo from https://lebtown.com/2020/10/09/the-sad-story-of-the-six-level-tower-house-that-once-stood-atop-mt-gretnas-governor-dick/

by Tina Kramer

Oct 29, 2024

This blog was written over five months ago. I debated whether or not to share it, but then during my daily devotions I read this verse:

“Let the redeemed of the Lord tell their story.” Psalm 107:2

Today, I will share with you part of my story. I give thanks to God that He was with me during this dark time.

Memories

Driving on Route 72 through Mt. Gretna, my mom, Irene, seems apprehensive as she asks me a question.

“Do you remember what happened there?” she asks while looking out the window into the woods. I see the trees, but no memory comes to mind.

“No,” I reply with a concerned look. My mom starts to cry.

“I am so sorry.” She weeps long and hard.

“Mom, I forgive you,” I say, but I’m not sure what I am forgiving her for.

I am 52 and still trying to piece together the events that took place during the time my mother abducted me. The events took place between the ages of two to five. Although the memories are few, the impact of the trauma lingers on. In the core of my being, the feelings of fear loom large.

One odd memory is being in some sort of abandoned building. The building was in the woods. It had multiple layers. Mom and I collected ferns from the forest. She tells me to make a bed on the floor with the ferns. The room is cold and dark, but there is a window through which some natural light streams. That is where the memory ends.

My mother, Irene, had numerous mental health problems. Growing up, I heard words like schizophrenia, bi-polar, paranoia, and manic-depressive. She took many medications and spent most of the day sleeping. When I came to visit her, she wanted me to sleep with her at night to make sure I was safe, even when I was in my tweens. She feared my dad would harm me. She feared her sisters would harm me. My life with her was like a prison.

How does one heal from so much fear? Although my mother went to numerous “faith healers,” she never got better. In spite of her mental illness, she loved her Jesus. She would call me every day, and at the end of the conversation she would always say, “Stay close to Jesus.”

She passed away while I was serving overseas. Our family traveled from the other side of the globe to attend her funeral. Now she is with her Jesus. Now her mind is healed. No more fear. No more pain. No more medication or stays at the mental hospital. She is finally free!

Today I walk in those woods and wonder. Those woods in Mt. Gretna that made my momma cry. What happened in the woods? Why can’t I remember?

Not long ago as I was walking, I came to a spot where a buliding once stood. Nothing is left, except a low wall marking its perimeter. I read the plaque about the house and stared intently at the photo. Something about this picture looked familiar. As I read the description, the memories came back: tower, ferns, cold, window. Could this be the place? I long for something to connect to my past. In the foundation grows a tree; the tree looks about my age. Hugging the tree, I cry a stream of tears. Whatever happened in the woods, God protected me. I am here. I am here, and I will heal.

I suppose God has blocked my memories for a reason. Perhaps he knows it would overwhelm me to remember such details. My counselor is teaching me ways to push through the emotional storms that surge when triggered. I am thankful for her patience with all my emotional ups-and-downs.

Everyone has a story. Everyone has been wounded. When you see someone struggling, remember they have a story. When we take the time to listen, our hearts are less likely to be harsh and judgemental.

Prayer

Abba Father,

You were there with me. When I was scared. When my mom was confused. You kept me safe. Thank you.

Sometimes, Lord, I still feel like a little girl who’s lost in the woods. Hurting, sad, scared. Would you hold my hand and lead me out of the dark forest of brokenness?

I look back and see a lot of a lot of painful wounds. I don’t want that pattern of brokenness to continue in me or in my family. I am asking for restoration. I am asking you to bring about a change. A change that is only possible with your power.

Today it is Easter, the day we celebrate your resurrection. No one thought it was possible, but it happened. The body of a broken, dead man came out of the grave. You are alive. You defeated death. Do the same in me. Break the chains. Shine light into the darkness. May a new day of life and hope begin in my heart and all who read this blog.

In Jesus’ name we pray,

Amen

If you would be willing to pray for me and my family as I continue to heal, please subscribe to this blog.

Prayer Request

Tomorrow I am meeting with a new doctor. Pray that God will give her wisdom as she evaluates me.