RAW

This wound is open again, and I hate him. Is it wrong..yes it is. I know.  I hate him for what he did to them, to us, to me. Where was the man to protect me? He was there standing over me, hurting me, night after night, always there. Relentless in his pursuit of control and savage ownership of my body, soul, mind. The sad truth is if he had loved me, if he would have sought help for his wounds, wounds that I could not heal with my own submission to his hand; I'd have stayed and continued to give it my all.
When I see these pictures of my children, my heart is open and raw again. Those feelings rush back, fear, intimidation, sacrifice. I sacrificed myself for them everyday. I hid the torture from those bright beautiful eyes. I hid the words of contempt from the mouth of their father from their innocent ears. I hid my fear of death by his hand. I hid, I hid it all. I only did what I thought was right.
At what point does the pain become less? At what point will my children be restored to me? Ten years? Twenty? My dear God, must I wait until you return? Must I wait until ALL is reconciled? Oh, my God, restore us. I need my children, and I think, they need me. just as we, your children need You. I am raw tonight and broken again.
I give you thanks my Jesus for these years You provided. Thank you for the beauty and joy that my children and I shared. I'll never regret those years, or the blessings that will one day come to fruition from them.

My local news channel of choice here in San Diego did a story on "Divorce Parties". I didn't watch it. Divorce to me is a traumatic event. My divorce was anything but a celebration. A marriage is an entity in itself, like a person, it takes on a life of its own. Some marriages, if sanctified by God, if nurtured lovingly by both people involved, can be a beautiful relationship. It needs care, time. One person cannot care enough to keep it alive. Divorce, is the sad, desperate attempt to save a cancerous relationship that you know is dying...and you alone, can't stop it. You pray, you beg the other person to help, "please help me make this better". Yet still, it dies, slowly, painfully. It becomes a corpse that you carry around with you daily, trying to revive it. Daily, its cold response alarms you anew. There comes a point where you realize that if you don't let it go, unplug it from your heart, it will deplete your soul, and you'll die with it. There is mourning, rage, fear, failure. There are children who have to deal with the reality that this entity that was their security, unhealthy as it was...still, its dead, they need to learn to grieve and mourn. So, should divorce be celebrated? For some, it may be their way of mourning, for me, I can't bear to think of celebrating the traumatic event that threatened my sanity and delivered a devastating blow to my beautiful children. I couldn't save it alone...it died. I am still alive, my children are alive, I'm safe. For these blessings, I will celebrate.

The sun has come.
The mist has gone.
We see in the distance...
our long way home.
I was always yours to have.
You were always mine.
We have loved each other in and out of time.
When the first stone looked up at the blazing sun
and the first tree struggled up from the forest floor
I had always loved you more.
You freed your braids...
gave your hair to the breeze.
It hummed like a hive of honey bees.
I reached in the mass for the sweet honey comb there....
Mmmm...God how I love your hair.
You saw me bludgeoned by circumstance.
Lost, injured, hurt by chance.
I screamed to the heavens....loudly screamed....
Trying to change our nightmares into dreams...
The sun has come.
The mist has gone.
We see in the distance our long way home.
I was always yours to have.
You were always mine.
We have loved each other in and out
in and out
in and out
of time.

~Maya Angelou

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