Parallels

I have a weekend job as a delivery man.  I really enjoy this job for several reasons, among them being the extra money (duh), seeing new (and sometimes scary) parts of my city, experiencing the happiness my packages bring, and the fact that I get to listen to the radio.

Radio?

Oh yes, NPR to be exact!

I know, many of you who know me also know that I tend to lean very heavily to the conservative side of things and that NPR is anything but conservative, but c'mon, they've got really interesting programs!  I start my day with "Car Talk" and usually end it after "The Splendid Table", but smack dab in the middle of my day is one of the highlights: "This American Life" with Ira Glass.

Ira is a master at the art of theme programming.  Each week he takes an always-interesting, sometimes eye-opening, and often sly topic and weaves three or four stories loosely around it.  I usually find myself mesmerized by the accounts and have openly guffawed out loud a time or two at a person's predicament.

Sometimes I cry.

I did this Saturday.  Not a lot, mind you, but enough.

This week's umbrella theme was "Slow to React" and recounted stories of folks who had life-altering situations that took a very long time to resolve.

And the story in act one was all about me.

Well, it wasn't literally about me, but the events and situations and feelings were close enough to make me pull over and stop my delivery truck. 

The Act.

The Desert Years.

The Resolution.

As I sat there in the cab entranced, I couldn't help but make a two-column list in my head of "similarities" and "differences".  Before long, I had more mental checkmarks under the same column than the different column, but those differences were notable.  More than once I had shivers run down my spine and felt the hair on arms twitch.  Several times I started to reach out and turn the blasted radio off as I had recently come to peace with my version of the story and didn't need to open up that wound all over again, but I was entranced and couldn't pull myself away from this story that paralleled mine in so many ways.

It was good to know that at the conclusion he got it right.

I got it right.

We got it right.

More importantly, for the first time in my whole life, I heard someone else speak candidly and without trepidation about the same tragedy I knew as a little kid, how it affected his (our) progress into manhood, and how he (we) reached a satisfying conclusion to many long and painful years of anger, doubt, confusion, guilt, and revulsion. 

At the story's end, I wiped my eyes, sighed, and knew I was not alone.  There was someone else (and many millions more, though their voices are usually silent) who told a story parallel to mine.  I felt like I had a brother in arms that knew me and understood as he had been there in his own life too.

And kept it a secret for most of his life.

Like me.

And survived.

Like me.

I needed to hear that particular episode of "This American Life" more than I've ever needed to hear anything else on the radio.

Thank you NPR for your bold programming.  Thank you Ira Glass for boldly putting a voice to part of my struggle by presenting this story.  Thank you David for boldly sharing a life-altering event that most men would bury deep in the recesses of their memory and choose never to speak about again.

Call it what you will (and sometimes there may not even be words adequately to describe it), but rape and molestation stay with you forever.  However, there comes a point when it doesn't have to rule over you anymore.  Freedom can come simply from the knowledge that you're not alone.

I am not alone, and by the grace of God and a forgiving heart, I am free.

http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/425/slow-to-react