It’s Time for a BBQ
charolaise cow on a farm
Photo by Mark Stebnicki on Pexels.com

It’s Time for a BBQ

grilled meat
Photo by pascal claivaz on Pexels.com

I love a good BBQ. The saucy, drippy, roll up my sleeves and run out of napkins kind. That tschk in the back corner of my cheek that makes my shoulders shrug up from the sweet smoky tangy deliciousness of it all.  Looking around at the other carnivores surrounding the picnic table or kitchen table or whatever kind of table, knowing they are feeling and tasting and loving it too. That’s a good BBQ.

A BBQ is not reserved for summertime. Or for carnivores. I’m about to throw an epic BBQ. On the grill today?

The sacred cow called the Code of Silence.

This cow is mild-mannered and unobtrusive. She has been quietly nurtured and protected for decades. Every family I knew had at least one, but sometimes there are several. I had a few. One to guard the family home so no one knew what went on behind closed doors. One that followed me to school to make sure I didn’t talk to a teacher about what was happening to me. One that followed me to church to make sure I looked like a good little girl and hid the bruises on my arms under the sleeves of my hand-made Sunday School dress. All under the guise of protecting me from people who would ask questions and judge us, thereby tearing down a carefully crafted façade.

But I wasn’t the one being protected. That sacred cow protected my abuser. Once I told what happened to me, it was covered up, concealed, never spoke of again, and the perpetrator went on his merry way to molest other young girls, all behind the safety and security of the sacred Code of Silence.

Well, I’m not having it. Not for one more day. Because here’s what I’ve learned about a sacred cow BBQ – when one gets slaughtered the rest of them are easier to kill.

My sacred cow got put on the chopping block when I experienced someone else telling their trauma story and breaking their code of silence. I understood the path to freedom and healing started with breaking the code and telling my story.  That’s exactly what I am doing with my writing. I started my blog to chip away at my sacred cow.

You’ve heard the old joke – how do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.

Over the last few years, I have been taking bites out of that sacred cow a little at a time by writing my blog, then waiting to see what happened next. Would I be crushed under the weight if it all came crashing down? Would I be judged? Would people disapprove and turn away from me because I was talking about the things we were raised to hide?

Turns out the weight came from me trying to hold it all together. I am predisposed to protecting that useless sacred cow because that’s what I knew. That’s what was modelled for me. When I stopped protecting it I discovered something – all those small bites over time have accumulated into some large meals of satisfying truth-telling. This allowed greater access to recovery, healing, and wholeness.

I’m strong enough now to kill off the rest of it.

Yes, a few people disapprove. Yes, I am being judged. But it’s really not that big of a deal. Because the people who actually love me – the people who really know me because they choose to build authentic relationship with me – they are the ones cheering me on and lending their strength to help me muscle that sacred cow onto the killing floor.

I am writing my memoir. I have chosen a publisher – Siretona Creative. Here’s a funny story about how I found Siretona…

God had been pushing at my heart for over 15 years to write this book. Once I finally started thinking it was time to start this project, and what it meant to actually write a book, fear rose up, which manifested as my inner sarcastic brat. I was sitting on my couch, in the middle of a pandemic lockdown, arguing with God about all the reasons writing the book was a dumb idea. Here’s how that went:

Me:

OK, say I write the stupid book which is probably going to be crap and no one will want to read it anyway and I’ll be stuck with boxes full of books in my basement that someone else is going to have to cart off to the dump when I die – I mean, I know NOTHING about PUBLISHING! How am I supposed to even do that? Like there is even a publisher right here in my neighborhood who would even be interested in looking at it, let alone publishing it?? C’mon God! You know what? I’ll prove it to you. I just downloaded the handy little nextdoor app on my phone, so I’m going to search for a publisher right here in Cranston Calgary…

And there she was. Colleen McCubbin of Siretona Creative. Right here in my own neighborhood. Except I wasn’t done with my bratty rant-fest.

Still me:

Is she even a Christian and would understand the culture I came from? And she’s probably awesome and I’ll like her and we might become friends and she’s going to like my writing and want to publish my book. Right??

God:

Yup.

Me:

So I guess I’m doing this thing.

God:

I’ll help. Are you done being a brat now?

Me:

Yup.

If I can stick to my projected timeline and get all my edits and design decisions made, my book will launch Spring 2023. I know what I want to do for my launch party. I’m having a BBQ. It will be SAUCY!

Stay tuned for updates.

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