In the Bleak Midwinter

Finding comfort in the grim circumstances of Jesus’ entry into our world

December 12, 2007 | 

More than 20 years ago in December, when I was a graduate student, I was held up at gunpoint in a public phone booth, robbed of a book bag containing my students’ and my own final papers, and sexually assaulted.

As often happens with trauma, the days that followed brought afflictions that seemed almost worse than the original crime. Everyone I knew responded that I “should be glad” I wasn’t killed, that I was “lucky.” I can’t explain how deeply these responses hurt me, but the title of author Alice Sebold’s account of her rape, Lucky, references the universality of my pain. To avoid it, I longed to retreat from my friends, my family, the world.

But my assaulters had my IDs and keys, so I had to live at a friend’s house until I got my locks replaced and burglar bars installed. Dread of going outside further immobilized me—but I had classes and finals, so I couldn’t stay indoors.

My students got angry when I explained, crying, that all record of their semester’s work had been lost in the assault. For a final grade, I said, they could either show me all their previously graded work or retype their final paper. (Before personal computers, the assignments students handed in were usually their only copies.)

Then there were my own three papers: the 50-page, end-of-semester productions of graduate students in English. Like my students, I had no copies saved, and all my notes and drafts had been in the book bag with the finished paper.

When I explained my situation to the first professor, he didn’t believe me and said the paper was still due in less than a week. The second professor gave me an extension until after Christmas break, effectively eliminating my planned trip to Boston to see my boyfriend.

I approached the third professor’s office with special terror. He taught a large Renaissance drama course, one of the more difficult ones I ever took. Few of us had managed to ace the midterm, and we all but despaired of writing a 50-page paper that would interest him, much less impress him. When I told this man what happened, though, he cried. We shared a box of tissues in his cluttered office, not talking much, and he wouldn’t hear of my rewriting the paper.

“You have an A,” he said. “Just forget about it.”

It was a spiritually defining moment for me. Even though I had no belief in God, the notion occurred to me nevertheless—some fond notion from my Catholic childhood, as I explained it to myself—that this man was Jesus. That Jesus himself sat there with his dwindling supply of Kleenexes, not telling me I was lucky or should be glad, but just crying for me, crying with me.

I don’t remember that Christmas at all—where I ate Christmas dinner, if I received or gave any presents, certainly no commemoration of the birth that occasioned the season. For the atheist I was then, Christmas was just red and green, tinsel, carols, a turkey in the oven, cards sent and received.

Nevertheless, every December since then, as the semester rachets up into finals and the stores fill with Christmas, the miserable inheritance of that forgotten time overtakes me, and I struggle against a crippling, otherworldly gloom.

At those times, I like to consider the grim circumstances of Jesus’ entry into our world. The price on his head. The other babies killed in Herod’s attempt to find him. His poor family fleeing to Egypt, refugees of terror. Jesus’ first human words to us were the cries of a newborn, lying in a feed trough in the dirty outbuilding where his mother had to give birth.

God seems most real to me when I imagine Jesus crying. At Lazarus’ tomb, with Martha and Mary at his side, accusing, “Lord, if you had been here … ” (John 11:21). In frustrated love for the children of Jerusalem, whom he longed to gather like chicks under his wings. In the garden. Abandoned on the cross. The violence of our world grieved the God of Genesis so much that he regretted making humans. “The earth is filled with violence because of them” (6:13), he told Noah, and “his heart was filled with pain” (6:6).

Amazingly, I worship a God who cries—as all newborns cry from the shock and pain of birth, from hunger, from need of comfort. As I, suffering unmerited wrongs, cried before my class of angry students. As that professor cried for me, surrounded by books and papers and empty Kleenex boxes.

At Christmas, we celebrate not only God’s long-awaited answer to our own cries and groans in this violence-filled world, but also the comforting presence of a fellow sufferer who knows our pain firsthand—and cries with us.

Blessings,
Patty Kirk


Posted at 8:24 AM on December 12, 2007.


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Comments

thank you for your post I am 48 and was just searching the web for a reason for my non stop heaving periods and came across your article.

I am senior pastor's wife and this week/year has been filled with major life changes.

3 of my closest friends and ministry wives have moved oversees and I am building relationships with much younger wives on staff.

I also found out this year that a young relative I dearly love , very close to me,had been repeatedly sexually molested at 10 yrs of age at a Christian school and was too scared to tell us right away. We are his guardians and I was a full time home mom attending to him all those years. it devastated me and condemns me to think how something that horrible could happen despite all our hands on involvement in his school,life, etc.

Normally, I am bubbly and positive often throwing theme parties for my sons, my husband's 50th bday (this year)friends, handling food, games, prizes, etc.

well 2 days ago, we hosted another dinner for 20 at our home and I literally fell apart,had my first ever panic attack in front of my husband and sons ( in their 20s). I was like a crazy loonie babbling about not having enough food, etc. Then i had to pull myself together to be "normal" ,host the party and do the games for everyone to enjoy.(I'm the only female at home.)

The next day, my gyne told me its possible that my heavy, continuous bleeding and hormonal stage could have contributed to my irrational behavior.
what hurt me the most was the reaction of my husband and sons to my behavior. My husband said "I was overreacting" and my sons were turned off because "I treated other people nicer than I treated them". He said all this after i had given the doc's explanation.

I have apologized but have an unexplained sadness in my heart. How I wish the response, regardless of my so obvious bad behavior, could have been like that 3rd professor, who didnt analyze me, but just sat and cried with me and reassured me that i wasn't so terrible after all. I know my husband and sons do love and care for me, but honestly, there are times it's hard for me to feel it. I don't know what's wrong with me but I do know I need to shape up.

I love the Lord and Jesus is my Savior. I also treasure my quiet times with Him. I will have my time now and for the first time I will actually meditate on your blog that Jesus is "crying " with me at what I'm going through.

Sometimes I just feel the males in my household are clueless on how a female brain works i guess.

Posted by: marcie on December 12, 2007

Thanks so much for sharing this. I'll be praying that your story gets passed along far and wide, and that it will heal and encourage many readers.

Posted by: Holly on December 13, 2007

You poor sweet one. I know many of us are crying for you and with you. For your bleeding--like that of the poor woman who had been bleeding 12 years and who touched Jesus' hem and was healed. And for your suffering at the hands of your unintentionally unsupportive family. I cry, too, for your adoptive son, and for you, his mother, who did the best you knew how. I speak for many, I know, in crying for all the details of your situation.

My family and friends are almost always, at least in some measure, frustrated with my similar breakdowns, and I have had to satisfy myself with what my therapist reminds me of: They don't get it. They haven't, thankfully, experienced what I have experienced and are not revisted by my traumas. They also just don't get how trauma works in people to mess them up. My therapist's message is basically that, as far as people are concerned, I'm on my own in my misery and also in dealing with the misery I create for others. This sounds bad, but there is actually some slim freedom to be found in it. After all, I don't want those who love me--especially my young daughters--to have to bear my burdens.

But, yes, it was such wonderful thing, that old man crying for me. He was the only one who did--and I barely knew him. That's why it's such a comfort to me to reflect on Jesus, emptied out, a helpless baby, fragile, cast upon messed up people just like me, alone in his suffering! Or crying at Lazarus's grave. And crying in Gethsamane. I like that passage in Paul that talks about us groaning and the Holy Spirit interceding for us. And how does he intercede? He, too, groans. Cries. Jesus, the Holy Spirit, God the Father--they collectively cry for us all. And they will make things right in the end.

My advice to you: Rather than beat yourself up or collapsing in self pity, concentrate on being a cryer for others--for that boy you mothered, for example, and for those around you who need you to cry for them. Quit blaming yourself. Cry for yourself and for us all. And, in crying, rejoice that we have, through The Father's plan, a road to health and truth and, in the end, a home unvisited by such woes.

May God's love surround you, Marcie. May you sense his presence, his attention to your dire need, his tears.

Posted by: patty kirk on December 13, 2007

This article made me realize that even through something as devastating as the assault you received, Christ is still on the throne and still reigns high. His love for you helped you. My main reason for commenting is the post from marcie. I, too, experienced heavy bleeding and the emotional distraught from that. I was a single parent at the time of a 12 year old son. My emotions were/are ridiculous. I understand exactly what you're talking about and what you feel. I had a D&C and am on a hormone for heavy bleeding, but still experience the emotional problems. I'm 44. I get so angry, I dislike myself, then other times, I'm irrational just as you spoke of. I know I can not post my email address, but keep trusting in Jesus, and I will sincerely pray for you and your situation. I learned that His peace is wonderful and He won't let you down, and He cries with us sometimes too.

Posted by: Beth on December 14, 2007

oh marcie - i am so sorry for your pain. i wish i knew who you were in person, so that i could come to your home and hug you and cry with you.

please look me up online if you come back this way to read other comments - i'd be happy to be a listening ear if you need one.

Posted by: rachael on December 14, 2007

I'm in my last semester as a graduate student myself, and your story gives me an echo of the horror you must have felt. I also have a good friend who is a graduate student and is a TA, and who is also the custodian of her students' work...so I understand just the barest amount of what that facet in this bleak time must have meant for you.

What a blessing that professor was. There are people who at one time in our lives or another really are Jesus to us. We need to pray for a spirit of revival on college campuses!

I pray that you are surrounded by those whom you love and who love you this and every Christmas season.

Posted by: Melissa on December 14, 2007

Thanks for sharing your story. I believe Jesus was in the 3rd professor who gave you an 'A'. Jesus was with you when you were feeling horrible because of that bad experience. His name is Emmanuel which means He's with us.

God bless and hope that your emotional wounds will heal...with time.

Posted by: Tessa on December 15, 2007

Thank you for sharing your story. I think you are very brave to share with others and very brave to wake and face the day so close to the anniversary of your assault. I will keep you in my thoughts and prayers that you continue to be blessed.

Posted by: Lennette on December 17, 2007

Thank you all for sharing your stories. It helps a bit when I know I am not alone in my emotional upheavals.
So many don't understand. They just look at you as if to say,"What the heck is wrong with you?"

Posted by: Donna on December 19, 2007

Patty-thank you for being so transparent and sharing. The window that is opened when you share your story is very insightful for those of us who have not experienced such pain. It gives direction in reaching out to others who are hurting-sometimes just weeping for the pain of others may be more important than words.

The Lord bless you for your brave testimony and I pray you have a blessed New Year.

Posted by: Paulette on December 25, 2007

I was assaulted last year. I am having a hard time as flashbacks occur.

I also cried to my Jesus and asked Him if He cried for me.

Thank you for your story, I am a widow now for 2 years and am still deeply grieving, the assault came as I was sitting at the beach crying to the Lord for strength and hope as I miss my gentle giant, my beloved husband. May

Posted by: Catherine on January 5, 2008

I think someone committing a crime against you is harder the more personal it is. We were robbed about 10 yrs ago, a wk before Christmas, and I was so thankful that noone was home. Also, that the animals were no hurt. But I felt invaded for so long and for what you went though, it would be 10 or 100 times harder. I do believe that God heals, but for me, sometimes I still feel pain that comes up from difficulities growing up( a mess of a family life, with a mother who tried, but things were very out of sync), a depression that runs in my family along with anxiety issues and alcoholism. By the grace of God, I have not suffered from the alcolhol problems or drug problems that some of my relatives have, although, I have been affected in other ways. For these issues, counselors, support groups, like Al-Anon and others helped me, save me, and of course, God was at he begin. always. I continue to strive to get up when I fall and I think that's how life is. Sometimes for me things come out of the blue to remind me of a hurt, but I have tools to use to help myself and we have to have these tools! We are more then conquerers, too!

Posted by: Julie on January 6, 2008

For May and Julie and any of you others who have experienced traumas that come back to haunt you:

I discovered much later that I suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) as a result of my attack. Through education and counseling, I have been able to get my symptoms under control. If you think you may suffer from PTSD, I encourage you to get help. You can find out everything I list here yourself by googling PTSD, but in case you are interested, here's an overview of the disorder:

PTSD, which can range from mild to disabling, can be caused by anything from an assault like mine to way worse traumas (such as childhood sexual abuse, war exposure, etc.) and even less severe-seeming traumas like witnessing or being in a car accident, losing someone close to you, or surviving any sort of momentary danger. Sufferers of PTSD have one to many of the following sorts of symptoms:

  • chronic hyperarousal: startling easily, anger, irritability, hypervigilance to possible threats, difficulty remembering things
  • re-experiencing the trauma: obsessive memories, flashbacks, nightmares, and events or settings that trigger feelings associated with the original trauma
  • avoidance of events, places, and people that evoke the event: reluctance to participate in certain activities or go into certain settings, phobias, emotional numbness, etc.

Many people have PTSD and don't know it. Not everyone who experiences a trauma gets PTSD, but for those who do, it can be end up being more debilitating than the event(s) that caused it. Symptoms often occur much later than the original trauma, typically triggered by some new trauma. If you have PTSD and don't do something about it, it can plague you for a lifetime.

Education is a good first step to controlling PTSD. If you think you may suffer from PTSD, I highly recommend Judith Herman's book, Trauma and Recovery, as an accessible overview of the disorder and suggestions on how to master it. Every year, I buy a bunch of copies at Barnes & Noble and give them out to the inevitable students who tell me about the bad things that have happened to them. The book will help you to understand what's happening to you and guide you in how to go about getting help.

Posted by: patty kirk on January 8, 2008

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