It was in their hands...so beautiful, precious and delicate


A wave thundered down upon them

now their hands are empty

water trickling past their fingertips
 

Promise, that when you think of me,
You will remember me
Remember me when I was young,
my eyes how they shined
Remember the blonde hair that cascaded
my strong arms for my mothering tasks
Remember the way I could hold my child in the air
my strong legs to carry their weight on my hips
Remember the clever wit, and laughter
my voice that sang sweet songs for you
Remember not the deterioration of my memories
Remember not the slow death of my voice
Remember not, remember not this bane
Remember not this bane that takes my mind.

Yes, you may see the situation and think, "That poor boy never sees his Mom, she's never around, she just left him"  But here is what you don't see, you don't see the years I endured an abusive controlling husband for the sake of that boy and his sisters. You don't see that the day I left, the day I ran in fear, that day, I took all of my children. I took my son with me. The only choices I know how to make, are the ones that I think God wants me to for my children. So you don't see how I struggled with my heart when my boy asked to go back to his father. You don't see how I prayed, weighed and measured to determine if that would be the right choice. You don't see how I feel like a failure as a mother. You won't see the nights I cry myself to sleep praying from the depths of my soul  that God is taking care of him, comforting my boy, tending to his broken heart. You won't see the tears behind my sunglasses when I see a little brown eyed round faced boy in the park hugging his Mommy. My wound, this grief is always fresh and is pricked by the slightest of reminders. You don't see how my soul aches everyday that I can't tell him I love him, I can't guide his school lessons, or hear his laugh, hear him practicing his drums, or hold him in my arms. He is my boy, my first born. I did everything I knew how to do for my boy and his sisters. This separation, it is the cruelest thing I have ever known. My son and I walk around, apart, separate, living lives of such intolerable pain. If he chooses not to see me, how can I help him heal? If he refuses my efforts, how can I do anything? I pray, I pray...and I pray.  He believes he is a man now. After all, that is how I raised him. I wanted him to rise up and be the man God calls him to be. He is choosing this path, he is choosing to go his way. Maybe I need to stop praying for my boy, and begin to pray for my young man.  My young man, go and follow, love God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength. I will watch from the distance, I will watch as you go, always knowing that you are because for a time, God let me be your Mom.

My James,
I'll love you forever
I'll like you for always
As long as I'm living
My baby you'll be

I can see you there. Looking back as people crowded me, pushing me through the security line. I didn't want to go. I don't know how I walked away from you. I can still see you there, your hand over your heart, your brave smile. Even now my chest aches to think of it, and my heart chastises my common sense for leaving you there that day... I'm coming back, I've got to get back.

May I hide beside you
For just a moment, to catch my breath
Will you hold me close
Immersing me in your tenderness
May I borrow your strength
In my times of trepidation
May I borrow your courage and gallantry
May I use it as a guise to my own fears
For just a moment, to catch my breath

You sweet walls of protection, you kept my intimate enemy, my pet monster at bay. His fiery words meant to deplete my heart and soul, to cause utter desolation, you, sweet walls, kept me safe. I allowed you to be so strong. Powerful enough to keep me from feeling...anything, everything. That, my trusted old friend, is why your remnants must finally be cleared away. My heart and soul are pleading to be able to fully feel, the pain, the joy, but mostly...love, no matter the hurt I may endure. I had forgotten how  tremendous these emotions are. Thank you for keeping my soul safe through the traumatic years of  my silent struggle, but your work is complete. Now, feel this exhilaration welling up from deep within this protected garden. I get to live! I'm still alive!

Ahh, Dear Sister Hester, your courage to stand against the corrupt hypocritical legalism of the religious pharisees of your day is inspiring. Let us cast our sin to God alone, let Him cast those sins to the depths...as far as the east is from the west. To Him alone, He will judge. While you and I confess not the same transgressions, to God all is like filthy rags before him. We ask, does Heaven have a limit of Mercy? Hester, you and I know, only man limits his Mercy. You are a courageous woman. I have read this passage over and over, I understand you...while our sins are different, all the same, I understand. Let what was meant for evil be used for Good...In Christ alone can it be achieved.

“Woman, transgress not beyond the limits of Heaven’s mercy!” cried the Reverend Mr. Wilson, more harshly than before. “That little babe hath been gifted with a voice, to second and confirm the counsel which thou hast heard. Speak out the name! That, and thy repentance, may avail to take the scarlet letter off thy breast.”


“Never!” replied Hester Prynne, looking, not at Mr. Wilson, but into the deep and troubled eyes of the younger clergyman. “It is too deeply branded. Ye cannot take it off. And would that I might endure his agony, as well as mine!” 


“Speak, woman!” said another voice, coldly and sternly, proceeding from the crowd about the scaffold. “Speak; and give your child a father!” 


“I will not speak!” answered Hester, turning pale as death, but responding to this voice, which she too surely recognized. “And my child must seek a heavenly Father; she shall never know an earthly one!” 


“She will not speak!” murmured Mr. Dimmesdale, who, leaning over the balcony, with his hand upon his heart, had awaited the result of his appeal. He now drew back, with a long respiration. “Wondrous strength and generosity of a woman’s heart! She will not speak!”

~The Scarlet Letter, Nathaniel Hawthorne

Monday I had the wonderful opportunity to go on the much coveted, 7th grade "Henry Ford Museum" end of the year field trip with my daughter, affectionately known as 'Bff'. This field trip is such a big deal, so many parents sign up to go that the teachers have to draw names. I lucked out! Woooohoooo!!
I chaperoned 6 girls through this very full museum. One of the girls fell behind...often. I can't remember how many times a during the day one of us asked, "Where is Zoe?" She was never too far behind, but still. These girls took pictures of EVERYTHING! They posed with everything. Of course, being the outrageously funny girls they are, they had to pose with every male statue in the building...and there was always one girl in the group pretending to kiss it. Emily. Each time I went to snap a photo, Emily would pucker up. I don't think there is a picture without her kissing something.
Managing six flighty girls was a bit chaotic, but I loved every moment of it. It was very interesting to see Bff interacting with her peers. What was more interesting was the society of this particular 7th grade class. All of these kids are friends. I asked the girls if there were any 'groups/cliques'? One very sweet and innocent girl responded, "What's a clique?" Perfect. Bff explained and the girls all agreed that there really weren't any. Everyone just kind of gets along. How wonderful is that? I have heard the school staff and parents talk about this class and how unique they are. I have to admit after spending time with them, watching them interact, I am thoroughly impressed. Not to say they are a perfect group of kids, but they have managed something special in the way they get along. Something I have not seen in middle school age children, especially the girls. Quite interesting.

This says it so much better than I could....

If there are no promises then I should not have expectations. You have made me no promises. There has been pleasant talk, sweet conversations, but no promises. I will slow my heart. Quiet my my dreams. So, I will not hold any expectations of this..what ever this may be...

I no longer answer to these fears. But it doesn't mean they are no longer here. I feel like an addict who lives day to day with the realities of her weakness. My weakness is fear. I'm afraid. My list of fears is lengthy and petty. My new addiction is quickly becoming the rush of strength I allow God to give, the strength I let myself receive. Some days its not easy. Some days I fall back into the old way, those days are obvious. Everyone can feel it. I am trying. I am learning to be reprogrammed by God. Please be patient, please know that if you haven't intentionally tried to hurt me....it's not you. On these days, please pray with me...please don't let go of me.

I am not the labels you have tried to tattoo into the skin of my soul.
I will not be defined by your narrow views and looks of disapproval.
I can't fit inside this box you once placed me in.
I am not what you trained me to be
I am more, so much more

I saw you last night. You were there in my dreams. We were together, with the girls driving someplace. It was night, there were stars. I felt a sweet contentment, a warm, gentle assurance that you're mine, and I am yours. It was beautiful, you were there. You were there...

This storm has been raging around me. It has been tumultuous and terrifying. It has threatened to tear me apart inside. My soul has been held together by thin delicate fibers of faith in God. I felt the painful stings and harsh truths as the Spirit has flowed into these wounds to heal me. What was meant for evil, God has used for the good of me. I am humbled, I am filled with a joy at what He has done. I see blessing upon blessing. I am finding a peace like I have never known. I'm finding life in abundance.

Mother's day has come...and now it's over. I didn't expect to get anything...it's just another day, right? Just like Valentine's day, or any other Hallmark holiday. While it's nice to honor mothers, it just brings my failings to light, it brings my son's anger to the surface. I didn't expect any material things, but I didn't expect such internal emotional turmoil.

To my children;
I made a choice. I struggled with this for years. If I could have changed everything I would have, if I could have waved a magic wand and fixed all this I would have. I couldn't...I did all that I could do.  I hope someday you'll understand, and forgive me. I love you, I've loved you with all my heart since the moment I knew you existed. Every choice I have made, whether you can see it or not has been made with your best interest at heart. I'll love you always.

Of fairy tales and the dreams of my youth, I still believe....

For you, only you
Only you have known me
It is you alone I have let in
For you, only you
You have seen all of me
Inside these deep hidden places
For you, only you
My heart is laid open
My soul is exposed
For you, only you
There are no secrets
No walls or painted screens
For you, only you

Last night I got the call I knew would eventually come. He is giving up, he is done with me. I knew he would be. I'm relieved. I feel as though I am standing on the platform of a depot watching the train I was supposed to be on, vilolantly crash. I have been praying that somehow God would save me from this mess. That He would deliver me from this impending train wreck. He did.

There are a couple of characteristics about my ex that I knew would eventually work to my benefit. The first, is to just give up when things get too difficult. When the bills and school got to be too much, we moved to another state, when the business wasn't going as planned, he went back to school, when school was too stressful, he started a business. We floated and tossed and turned, there was never a landing, never stability. When I finally said there had to be some sort of stable place, he was bitter toward me for it. The second characteristic is a little biting to my dignity; he sees me as property, disposable and expendable. Do you know the pain of everyday being forced to prove your worth as a wife, a person? Wondering if you have proved your worth enough today to keep the father of your children around a little longer? I would wonder every night before I got into that bed if I had jumped through his hoops the right way, or would this be one of those nights. A night to be knocked down a peg or two, to be reminded of my place, to be dominated because I had stepped out of line. I remember him saying in my moments of non-compliance, "Darling, we have cute kids, another woman would love to help me with this if I needed to find one." or, "I'm sure there is a woman out there who wouldn't cry about giving in to the needs of  a husband who gave them the things I've given you."  and my favorite, "If you would just comply, you wouldn't have these problems." Yes, he really said those things. Knowing him the way I do, the pet monster who kept me in a cage, I knew these things would eventually work in my favor. To him, I am now junk day curb-ware, and this fight he had going to try to make me 'comply' was too much work. He's done. Thank you God, he's done. I know this feeling. This is the overwhelming sense of relief I would have after he would force me to 'comply'. I would lay on the bed, in tears of relief, thanking God that it was over, he was done. This time, there are no tears, there is no pain, there is just the feeling of relief, peace, breathing, I can breathe.

These are the days when I want to pack up my children and run far, far away. I want to live simply, a quaint little house of my own, warm, safe beds, laughter, sweet things baking in the oven, and my children with me, safe and free. On these days, I want to cry out and scream, making him see this frustration, 'Do you see what you're doing to them?!'. On these days, I want more than anything to gather up my babies, and just fly away.

This is where my damage shows. There are days when I have to choose to trust the people around me instead of  falling into my fears. For some, trust comes easy, not for me. It's as though it's this piece of me that was shattered intentionally to control me, now I've allowed God to put it back together, I've allowed myself a vulnerability that is so terribly delicate, and raw that I feel like it could shatter again at the smallest perceived betrayal. The slightest thought, or sight of something that could possibly be interpreted as a betrayal causes me to panic for a moment. I swiftly, carefully surround this fragile part of my soul, bracing it for impending breathless devastation. I begin to talk myself through the emotion logically, comparing what is known, and what is perceived, what is real, and what is the Enemy trying to steal from me. This is not an easy task. It's been a struggle for me, considering, I thought I knew who was trustworthy, and it would appear, my closest confidants were not trustworthy. Already this morning, I have had to face my fear and deal with it. I don't know if  I'm completely through it though. I don't know. I need my counsel, my Asylum friends to help me, I think.

Mother's Day is coming up. I have no expectations....I just hope I'm pleasing God as a mother, and as a daughter.

I feel like I'm in suspension. I'm dangling here in between a self inflicted demolition, and the hope of a beautiful new construction. There are days when I fear my dreams will be blown away. Then there are days when I believe they are all going to come true. All the time, I'm floating, wondering where God is going to place me next. I have no control, I have given up control, and to be quite honest, it scares the hell out of me sometimes. It shakes me to the core some days. I'm learning to be real, to be vulnerable. There are only two people who I have allowed to see me, there is only Him and him. They are the only ones that have seen these deep, secret places inside me. I am learning to let others in, I'm learning....

These days are passing by
My youth is gone
My dreams become clouded
Pieces of me have become cynical
These days are passing by

Deep inside I always knew. What you said and what you did were always different things. Love, you say you still love me. I can't wrap my mind around your definition of love. I was your wife. You were supposed to protect me, love me, cherish me, honor and defend me as Christ does for his church....but you didn't. You became the person I feared most in the world. You became my rapist, my owner, my forced god. I did everything you wanted me to. Even when it hurt, even when it left me bloody and in pain for days. I did it to try to be what you wanted me to be. Hoping that if  I submit more, if I do more, you'll love me like Christ calls you to. You wanted me to believe it was me, obviously there was something wrong with me. But deep down, I knew it wasn't me, it wasn't my fault. What you did to me was not mine to own.

Years went by, and I began to plot and plan an escape. I did, I'm gone. And now, now I find, I have swiftly been replaced. She enjoys all the things you do, you tell me she's a woman. I was and am inadequate to please you. I am expendable and replaceable. I always knew you felt that way. But, you are wrong!Someday, someday God will allow me to be with someone who finds me to be priceless. I know who I am in Christ. I know what I am meant for. I am not meant for your alter, I am not meant to be your property, I am His child, I am worth more than what you see.

Isaiah 61:3 (ESV)
to grant to those who mourn in Zion—
to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
that they may be called oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the LORD, that he may be glorified.