The Resurrected Frog
by
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Introduction
I was recently listening to a woman who had encountered many abuses, both as a child and later in her adult life, during her marriage. As she spoke, she hammered away at so many things concerning "child abuse," that, I, too, was ministered to by her ability to expose such embarrassing events. I felt overwhelmed in my heart as she chipped away at the hidden agony, deep within me of my own past experiences. And how dare she stand there recovered while she was uncovering me and my private secrets.
As she spoke, she told a story about being a young girl. "I remember as a child going on a field trip and we were permitted to bring our favorite pet or animal for a show-and-tell contest. I didn't have a pet or animal. I found a frog hopping on one leg, so I placed him a jar, just to have something for the contest."
Surely, I thought, a lame frog with one leg couldn't win any prize.
She continued on. "As soon as we got to the campgrounds, I ran and placed my frog on the picnic table in the hot sun with some of the other entrants. That evening after hiking, we gathered for the contest. I was the first to show my pet as I held the jar in my hands, but the frog appeared listless – in fact, it was dead. So a few girls and I conducted a real funeral for him. We dug a hole in the ground and wrapped him in a cloth, then laid him in his shallow grave. Just about the time we were to finish our show-and-tell, someone yelled, 'Look!' The ground shook and out jumped the frog we had buried, on one foot."
As she was finishing this part of the story, I yelled, leaping from my seat, "A resurrected frog!" With tears flowing down my cheeks, the speaker walked over, and hugging me, gave me the poem which begins my story.
The story of the frog seemingly coming back from the dead renewed for me the resurrection story, and revealed the wonderful insight that though many things may seem dead in our lives – and indeed they are both dead and buried – there is a power which can catapult us above and beyond our past grave of life's circumstances to a new awakening and opportunity – a second chance, a new beginning, a resurrection.
This pain is the flame of a fire,
burning out of control.
It has eaten away at my heart
right down to my very soul
I'll build a wall around me,
so the fire can't get in.
My heart's been burnt to ashes,
so much ugliness within.
Lord, give me beauty for ashes
Teach me to live again.
Only you can squelch the fire,
burning me from within.
Lord, give me beauty for ashes,
replace the old with new.
Renew my heart and show me how,
my healing can serve you.
Prologue
I wonder as I look back over my life, how I made it to this age, fifty-eight, looking toward seeing fifty-nine. I don't mind telling my age, for God has blessed and kept me. Even the scars I received from birth until now are hardly visible. If you were to meet me, you wouldn't be able to tell or guess what storms or trials I have endured throughout my life. Only as you read, will you know and ask, "How could Sylvia go that long before she realized she needed help?"
One of the reasons for sharing this story is, I want young people to understand they do not have to make a mess out of their lives. Dad and Mom are there for you – or perhaps are not – and yes, we can get caught up on the wrong road, but be well-assured that whether we have support from parents or not, I declare unto you that Jesus is the way and
He can help you. It is imperative you acknowledge Him and turn from where you are – do it now! He will help you find the road which will make a better life.
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About the Book
My greatest downfall began in 1957 at the age of 15 when I was raped coming home from choir rehearsal – which resulted with the premature birth of my first son, Marvin. Three months after he was born, I was savagely raped by a carload of young men. A short time later, I accepted a marriage proposal from Brandon, a man I'd started dating. That turned into a shotgun wedding, but not in the sense you'd expect. My second son Nelson was born, but his father was not Brandon – it had been one of those I'd been raped by. To my regret we found ourselves living as a family, but only under adverse conditions, which also resulted with my third son Lee being born in 1962. My marriage to Brandon ended, but I would soon be married to Cohen -- another abuse-filled marriage. Somehow through it all, I found The Lord through the death of my beautiful sister, Marva. After her death, I met that God with personal encounters – to which when you read, you’ll find how I was challenged and nearly committed spiritual suicide because of another crisis in my life. My life, it seemed, was always in turmoil, and it is my story within these pages where you'll get a glimpse into the torturous life I've endured.... A journey filled with more downs than ups... A journey that ends with a rebirth of my life... my soul.
About the Author
Born in Leechburg, Pennsylvania in 1942 in a home my father built with his bare hands – the only help he had was from my pregnant mother -- I was soon to be born. Birth for me was difficult – the umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck, to which I was pronounced dead – but early the next morning, July 5th, I began to cry – and seemingly my life would be about the same – difficult. Life as a child was spent mostly on the hills that sat overlooking the township of Leechburg. The country was the best, but Dad’s jobs were most affordable for him to move us West into Youngstown, Ohio. We traveled back and forth, but by the time I was eight years old, Dad and Mom settled down on the south side – a steel mill city which meant work for my father. At the age of eight, several things happened, but one thing in particular. We found out why I cried so much – I had Sickle Cell Anemia. Each year I suffered the agony of having one crisis after another, even through my pregnancies and marriages. Despite all the illnesses and obstacles I’ve overcome, I was able to accomplish many things. Yet I never did the things like most teenagers, which is where I want to direct this story – my story – to all of you.