nothing wasted (7.15am)

this is a story of date rape.  if you would like to leave the room for this one, i completely understand. if there is a heart besides yours that needs to see itself in this, please feel free to share part or all.        xo –kris



I was nineteen. young inside and out. until then, letting someone have all of me had been this door inched open once with eager reluctance. i-love-you-with-everything-i-am holding hands with youthful-all-in. we could only see waiting as too much between closest possible us.

but past child’s love was not mine to keep. this was new country and new life and he took my breath away.   i left breadcrumbs leading him to me because i wanted this heady excitement of possible. to know you are wanted sometimes slides thinking to the side and leaves only the feel of it all.

but at the doorstep of far enough i said no. but he took stop and my shaking head and hands pressed against, and set them aside to insist on all.

in the disbelief of it,  in the humiliation of suddenly being there and then—everything strong in me drained out and i took on defeat.

and i gently shattered. the part of me that was mine for the gifting became untethered from the truth of it’s worth. who i thought i was broke into pieces.

when i stood up to find my way to this never happened, happening planted two things deeply different:

that scarred, it was no longer treasure.

that treasured enough to take without regard to the rest of me, it must be the most i had to offer.


in the years that followed, i opened door after door—-i think looking for the whole of me.

on that road, i dragged behind me shame that i wanted some of him.  it trailed behind me. it tasted like my-fault-you-should-have-known-better-you-started-it-you-led-him-towards-the-taking.

there was no weapon to point to.  no report of wrong on record.   just me now hurting myself and i. slapping my heart’s self to numb with the stinging refrain of you-could-have-fought-back-you-could-have-written-different-ending.

but god took the pen from my fingers and authored restoring. he gave me M, who loved me so wholly that i couldn’t help but become whole again.

god filled me so full of his truth there was no room to doubt my worth. and he grew beauty in and around scars until they were hardly visible.


the spirit of the sovereign lord is on me,
because the Lord has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the lord’s favor
and the day of vengeance of our god,
to comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in zion—

to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes,
the oil of joy instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.
they will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the lord for the display of his splendor.

isaiah 61.1-3 (NIV)


title inspired by song: nothing is wasted by jason gray.


12 thoughts on “nothing wasted (7.15am)

  1. Brave, humble, honest, open hearted…….revealing of the inner most shame. I applaud you for telling this most personal admission. We have an awesome God…..He can and does heal anything if we allow Him too. There are so many who need to hear your story, your recovery, your courage. Thank you for the telling in such a matter of fact way. I love you so.

  2. God truly keeps you under His wing dear Kris. Your writing encapsulates all the positive traits of a special lady indeed. I agree your story can help uplift other women in a similar situations ~ Blessings and hugs to you …

  3. This is heartrending and yet poignantly beautiful. Thank you for being brave enough to share this and I hope that it falls into the hands of those who need it.

    • thank you aprille. xoxo even though god had long ago given me healing, writing this was like letting out a breath held for twenty years. and i hope so too!

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