When Grace is Truly Amazing - Guest Blog by Connie Barris

When I was 9 years old, I had a childhood trauma. It would be my cancer destroying my soul for years to come. This came on the rear of my parents’ divorce. Having been a daddy’s girl, this was agonizing, excruciating pain. I was lost. Had I caused him to leave? Looking back, I wondered why one of them hadn’t left sooner. 

So dad was gone. My heart was broken. A fractured family. During my youth, it wasn’t as common for parents to divorce. I had decided I was the only one with divorced parents. A taboo occurrence. I couldn’t focus. People talked about my family. My friends made rude comments. I resolved that I had the identity of a leper.

Then not long after the divorce, my house became a revolving door. So many people came and went. People I didn’t know. Endless parties. My sister and I lived in our rooms. So, to hear my aunt and uncle ( someone I knew) were coming to visit was a highlight.

My aunt and uncle stayed a week. It was one of the 9th million worst weeks I’ve ever had. At that time, I was only 9 years old as I stated in the beginning. This was when my world forever changed. My mom would leave for work. She always made it clear it was my dad’s fault she was working. During this time, she left me alone with my aunt. I really don’t remember where my uncle was. I was somewhat grateful that he was gone or that I don’t remember. The abuse started. It had started at the hands of someone I looked up to and loved. All during this abuse, I remembered my grandmother telling me about Jesus so I prayed a child’s prayer. Where was He?

The week was up. My aunt and uncle left. But the fears, nightmares and anger continued well into my adult life. I could tell a lot of stories of abuse but I want to share this particular one. I want to share a story of redemption, 52 years later on Easter. 

I grew up having difficulty in school, being suspicious of adults and eventually becoming a bully. I was withdrawn from adults. (This tragedy wasn’t the only reason). —-Stay with me. 

I never said a word to anyone. My mom would have asked me what I did do to cause it. Many years later, my mom would hear this story and concede the truth of my suspicions.

I became an addict later in life, I wanted to numb my grief. The grief that I truly wasn’t conscious of. Years later, I chose to become sober. I entered into an outpatient program. The most kind and patient counselor I’d ever know, would go around the room and ask us to share how we felt. I didn’t know. I struggled with the words and with the ability to express my emotions. So, my counselor gave me a sheet of paper that displayed words that conveyed my emotions. Words that would eventually lay down the foundation of who I really was, and who I was not.

Most people do not understand the Alcoholics Anonymous 12-Step Program. It is based on the authority of God. It teaches one to heal, forgive and be forgiven. It takes years, if not forever, to work through our debris. 

I had been in the program for some time, long enough to forgive. Only I could not forgive myself. I could not get past the shame and guilt, so I tried to end “it— me.” This is when I shared my story with my mom. I told her she would not have believed me. She said you are right. As a result, my mom never spoke again to her sister even to her death one year later.

In the program of forgiving, my aunt was near the top. I had forgiven her. This was totally a God thing. Because of events that would follow, God opened up doors only because I had let the pain go.

A year later my aunt was diagnosed with aggressive breast cancer. Her husband had died and it was just her and her son. One day while she was in the hospital, I went to visit. I just wanted to make peace with myself. She smiled, giggled and laughed as if nothing had ever happened. I was ok with that. Then we started talking about Jesus, Heaven, God and eternity. She had received Christ. She was at peace and I was at peace for her. It was the most freeing moment as I hugged her when I left.

We didn’t talk much after that. I begged my mom to go see her. I said, “If I can forgive her, so can you.” My mom never did. 

The call came. My aunt had entered eternal life. I said a silent prayer. Then I called my mom. Not much to say.

The next day my aunt’s family called me. They said my aunt’s dying wish was that I do her funeral. I was honestly baffled. God kicked me in the butt. I said “Yes.” I asked them to call back with details. I immediately began writing what I would say. Fortunately, it was pages. I’ll share how blessed I was for all those pages, stories in I’ll in just a minute. 

Arrangements had been made, the day came and my mom asked to ride with me.

The funeral home was out of town. The conversation was light on the way. We arrived. I walked in, signed the book, grabbed a program and introduced myself to the staff. They said, ”Yes, we are glad you are here.” I took my mom to see her sister, then I had her sit down. 

I walked over to the staff and asked where the pastor was. The next few moments were a blur. He said, ”Ma’am, you are.” I jerked the program open. There It was — my name. I had to sit. Who was I? I wasn’t qualified. Things started happening at breakneck speed. 

I stood up as we got ready to go to the sermon. I heard, ”Mrs. Barris we are ready, can you pray?” I don’t even remember praying. At one point in my life, I wouldn’t bless the food at dinner. 

The service began. Her son’s friend sang “Amazing Grace”. Then it was my turn, no actually it was God’s turn! Like I previously mentioned, I had written pages only ordained by Abba Father. I remember those words. They were heartfelt. And I ended with Psalm 23.

Psalm 23: A psalm of David.

The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.

He makes me lie down in green pastures,

he leads me beside quiet waters,

he refreshes my soul.

He guides me along the right paths

    for his name’s sake.

Even though I walk

    through the darkest valley,

I will fear no evil,

    for you are with me;

your rod and your staff,

    they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me

    in the presence of my enemies.

You anoint my head with oil;

    my cup overflows.

Surely your goodness and love will follow me

    all the days of my life,

and I will dwell in the house of the Lord

    forever. 

 Then (2 Corinthians 5) “....to be absent from the body, and is to be present with the Lord."

Her broken life was now healed. She was young and whole.