Today is the 30th day of the counting of the omer. It is about gevurah b’hod, strength or endurance in humility or beauty. Today is about survival and what it takes to be strong. I went to two events about this very topic. The first was at Elgin Community College sponsored by the Community Crisis Center is honor of Sexual Abuse Awareness Month. The second one was at the Gail Borden Library as part of their commemoration of Holocaust Remembrance Day. For my book discussion group, we discussed The Storyteller by Jodi Picoult.

I listened to three different survivors tell their stories. They went through unspeakable terrors. All three were humble. All three were almost apologetic. They survived. Others did not. In the case of the Holocaust survivor who escaped Germany as a young child, after Kristalnacht, he grew up in Chicago. “I am not a camp survivor. I am one of the lucky ones.”
In the case of the two survivors of sexual assault, each had been assaulted multiple times. Each one blamed herself and tried to bury the past. Each one struggled to find her voice. And yet, there was a thread that ran through all three presentations, it takes luck and discipline to survive, to overcome the tragedy, to be able to stand on a podium and tell these stories, so very personal, so very haunting. It takes courage. It takes energy. It takes sheer will and determination. We are the richer for their ability to be strong and humble. For their ability to find their voices. Some people can never do what they did today. Some people who undergo traumatic experiences wind up perpetual victims. Angry, bitter, scared, scarred. What makes the difference between the two responses is not clear to me but something I have been thinking about a great deal. Is is brain chemistry, biology, some kind of electrical switch, a nurture or nature thing, the help that they may have received immediately after the trauma, a sense of being loved and secure? Some combination of factors? What does it take to say with confidence, “I am a survivor, not a victim?” Do you have to acknowledge being a victim before you can become a survivor?

We are not even two weeks out from the horrific bombings at the Boston Marathon. People are continuing to heal their physical wounds. The mental ones may take even longer. A friend of mine, Lesley Litman with whom I spent time in NFTY as advisors, blogged this morning:
“On Monday I ran over my cell phone with my car. It was the first “normal” work day since the tragic and difficult events of last week….I gathered up the front piece, the battery and the back piece, put it back together and turned it on. Miracle of miracles – it worked. Except the back piece would not stay on. My husband threw some duct tape on it to hold it all together and the phone is as good as new. Except it’s not…I went down to New York City this week for work… No one knew I was from Boston, I could feel almost normal. Except I’m not.
At one point, walking along the streets of New York, I looked down at my phone and realized that it represents my beloved Boston in this still fragile time: The phone works. It looks pretty normal. Except it’s not. It is taped together. Duct tape is strong – Boston is Strong. But it will be some time before the duct tape can be removed.”

Powerful words for any person who has survived trauma. We are held together by invisible duct tape, and many, many you would not know are healing from looking at them from the outside. They look normal…but they are not. They may be working at professional jobs, excellent mothers and fathers, homeowners, whatever your definition of success is, and they may be crying on the inside, angry, depressed, bitter. Or they may have found ways like the two survivors of sexual assault and the Holocaust survivor to rise. To embrace life. To choose life. To live.

May I not become embittered with my own life story. May I continue to approach healing with discipline, strength and courage. May the day come when I can stand there with confidence and courage and not be afraid.