Merged into Grace

I felt the surge of anger rush to the surface as I pressed the accelerator down further in an attempt to merge onto the freeway; the driver on the lane adjacent refused to allow me to merge and actually proceeded to speed up.  I literally screamed out loud "*bleeping expletive* thanks for moving over you *bleepity bleep*!!!" ...and continued to seethe in my rage at the complete lack of common courtesy that exists on the road these days. It happens every day, all the time and I'm fed up.  What IS wrong with people? 

This world is filled with selfish, self-centered people and it's only getting worse! It's about time something is done about it!  Right?  I started thinking about just how bad this world is; (I need not remind you of the horrors of this day and age, just turn on the news) and right there on the freeway I decided that this earth is in need of a cleansing of biblical proportions.  After-all the sins of this world seem to have far surpassed the days leading up to the flood and God had no qualms about teaching His children a lesson then.  But God promised to never flood the earth again so that idea is out.  However He has other ways of retribution.  What about some hell-fire and brimstone raining down? Turn a few of those jackasses into pillars of salt?  No?  Nothing? Why NOT God?

As I asked that I had the answer in my head, and thought about it with disdain for those who deserve His wrath NOW. "Ooh yeah, because you sent your Son to be The sacrifice and extended Grace after seeing how many times mankind would just continue to reach this ridiculous point of grotesque sin...free will, fruit in The Garden, knowledge of good and evil, stupid Eve, yadda yadda... grumble grumble...but God I really think enough is enough, I'm just so angry!"

It was in that exact moment of my thought process, I realized that I would be part of this said "cleansing" I desired to see.  After-all, if I had this hatred in my heart after a minor traffic infraction, I'm no better than the million other sinners out there walking this earth.  Woofta, talk about an eye opener...I too could be poofed away in the blink of an eye if The Almighty Creator decided to once again rid this place of all the lowly sinners.  

That thought sent chills down my spine and I immediately turned on K-Love because I was in dire need of encouraging worship music. Amazing Grace was playing.  I.kid.you.not.  Some might think that was mere coincidence, but I believe the Lord has THE perfect way of driving His point home. A sense of humor was what I needed alongside His perfect timing.  I chuckled at the irony of myself wishing a cataclysmic cleansing of mankind while my own heart was filled with sin.  As I heard the words "wretch like me", I felt my anger lift and started singing. ♪♫

Lesson: It's about ME, me and my heart, my wretched heart that was saved by His grace, not about the driver on the road. I.can't.condemn.him.  I can only work on me and live my life as a testimony to the Grace I've received when I uttered the words of the salvation prayer. (and it's a constant prayer really) Jesus come into my heart and live there, save me, I repent, forgive me, show me the way and make me new.  

No sooner had I renewed my faith right then and there while doing 73 mph on Interstate I-94; I pictured God looking down upon this sad broken earth that He created, watching all the misery and sin, the hurting lonely people and tears welled up in my eyes and I began to cry.  In place of that seething anger was a heavy heart and a conviction for what I'm supposed to be doing daily as a Christian. God called me out right there on the road, and reminded me of my calling, the one I accepted when I chose to pick up His cross and follow Him. 

Matthew 16:15-16
And He said to them, go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation. Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned. 

But He didn't say I could be the one doing the condemning, rather He directed me to do so with LOVE.  

Mark 12:30-31
Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.  The second is this: Love your neighbor as yourself. There is NO greater commandment than these.  

He sent His son to die on the cross, because if not for Him, we'd all be doomed to spend our days living on this earth with no purpose or meaning (driving around in fits of road rage) because our lives here are temporary. Our human bodies can't live forever but our souls will; and I don't know about you but my hurt and broken soul needs a resting place when this life ends.  The Old Testament shows that God is a God of anger and wrath, consequence and retribution, but after He sent His son to die for our sins, He showed that above all He is a God of love and it must break His heart to see humankind living this way; especially knowing what great things He has in store for us if we only repent and surrender. He doesn't want to swoop down with His mighty hand and flick the drivers with no courtesy off the road and into an abyss. He wants each and every one of us to be saved by His Grace. He wants our hearts to be SO filled with His love and compassion that every detail of our lives just overflow with Him. Meaning, when others cut me off or drive me to road rage, He wants ME to look past it, forgive them and wish them well.  I prayed for that driver; my "neighbor on the road"...I owed it to him after cursing him out and basically damning him to hell. 

Today I am ever thankful for His Amazing Grace and how it saved a wretch like me; I am begging God to renew my heart once again so I may serve Him and follow Him in a way that not only Glorifies Him for all He has done (and continues to do for me) but shows other His love and Grace.

Psalm 51:10-13 
Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within in me.
Do not cast me away from your presence, and do not take your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore me to the joy of your salvation, and uphold me by Your generous spirit.
Then I will teach transgressors your ways, and sinners will be converted to You.   

Waves of Grief

Today I wished I had a memory zapper like on Men In Black so I could just point it at myself to rid me of all my memories. 

Not just the bad ones but the good memories as well, because they trigger unbearable hurt as I'm reminded of what is lost.  Sometimes I don't want to remember.  I just want to live in the here and now, but my present can feel so alone as those I thought once loved me continue to live as though I don't exist. Their abandonment of me in the here and now drags with it the pain of the past and then in my grief, time ceases to exist. The past and future are intertwined with the present, each memory of the past bringing pain, each moment in time a constant reminder of the gaping hole in the present; and every worry for the future filled with dread. Leaving the statement to "leave your past in your past"  moot.  There is no past, present or future, there exists only immediate pain, misery and empty loneliness. 

Over the last year I have endured a LOT of grief.  Days filled with endless tears as I emptied myself of all the years of hurt.  In between those emotional releases I feel lighter, happier and healthier.  But just like most things are cyclical, it seems as though my grief has been coming in waves. And just like the ebb and flow of the ocean-tide changes, so has this layer of grieving as it hit me like a tsunami with incredible force and knocked me on my butt, broken and undone. Hopeless and alone. This left me drowning in a sea of tears and ultimately unfettered from my gripping emotions.  

It started with an innocent peek at my mother's facebook page, which is somewhat public; I hoped for a window into her world, a hint at her missing me but instead I saw my friend 'liking' one of my mom's photos... and that was the moment the wave made landfall.  Enter destruction; crashing down walls built up around me to protect my heart, the salty tears pouring from my eyes like ocean water ripping through barriers.  

It seems no matter how much progress I make; boost in confidence, change in perspective, positive thinking, being grateful and joyful, all it takes is a remnant of those old feelings of not being protected to relive the terror I felt as a little girl.  A little girl who had no one on her side.  A little girl lost and alone.  

That little scared girl still wants to know that those still in my life through all this are on MY side and not hers.  Little Brandi wants/needs to feel loved and validated and special.  She doesn't want to see MY friends paying any attention to my mother.  It's not just a simple "clicking like" on a picture...it's personal and it feels like more betrayal. At least it does in the mind of a little broken girl. 

Since the dam of tears I'd apparently been holding back had broken I allowed them to freely fall; no longer feeling the need to hold them back like sand bags piled high against the rising waters.  I then found myself looking through photos despite that it's painful to recall the memories captured in those snapshots.  There were over a hundred pics on facebook that my mother tagged me in. In the 'good' photographs I felt a stab to my heart that my own mom could spend my life with me by her side, intertwined in so many memories and then just dismiss me as if I never existed as she completely turned her back on me.  Wishing me 'Happy Birthday' for 37 of them but maintaining silence on my 38th.  Spending 37 Christmases with me, and ignoring me last Christmas. A lifetime filled with spending time together; passing summer days with walks around the river, trips to the zoo, shopping (lots of shopping), winters of complaining about the snow together and spending cold mornings sipping coffee or chilly evenings snuggling under blankets while watching movies and  munching popcorn.  In all the seasons of our lives are all these memories and each one now triggers pain at what once was and what I fear will never be again.  

I was tagged in lots of pictures of my youth; family photos, family gatherings, weddings & holidays.  I was also tagged in two pictures of myself that sent me right into full on post traumatic stress.  A photo of me standing outside of the barn where I was first sexually assaulted.  Even as I type this, I KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt that what happened was wrong but I STILL hear "it wasn't that bad, you weren't raped".  I was 13, I was tackled down to the straw-covered ground, my arms were pinned above my head, my shirt lifted up to expose my bare breasts and I was "tickled".   I was asked if it felt good.  I wasn't physically raped, but I might as well have been because that day changed the course of my life forever.  I was violated and my soul was irreparably shattered.  My trust was forever broken.  My trust in the man I knew as my dad, the man that took my mother away from my father, married her and vowed to love and honor her, had sexually assaulted me; and that was just the beginning of it.  I saw this picture of myself standing outside that barn and I heard loud and clear that what happened didn't matter to anyone but me; because if it did, how could a mom choose to stay with this monster and later turn her back on me? If what happened mattered, how could a family go on living as if nothing happened?  

But that was just what we all did.  It was swept under the rug and not dealt with.  It was only spoken of when another 'incident' occurred and then I was treated as if I had done something wrong.  I was in the wrong for going to him for affection/attention.  I was wrong when I got angry.  I was wrong when I spoke with an attitude.  I was wrong when I ran away from home.  I was wrong when I spoke with my friend about it. (and subsequently she was wrong for reporting it to CPS) I was wrong when I complained and compared.  I was wrong when I cried and screamed.  I was wrong when I got angry last year and stopped accepting my mother's excuses, minimization, denials, and deflections.  I was wrong when I spoke up  publicly.  I was wrong for discussing it on facebook. Not only was I told I was wrong to do that, I was treated as if I was dangerous, unsafe and not "ok" to be around.   

How does that even work?  I was violated and I WAS WRONG?  Was I wrong when he entered the bathroom while I showered, to re-attach the shower head that had mysteriously popped off in the middle of my shower?  Was I wrong when I obeyed his demand to just stand their in the shower, dripping wet and naked while he repaired the shower?  Was I wrong when I bit him in the chest because I panicked when he again had me pinned down in a compromising position?  Was I wrong when I showed him my tailbone bruise and he tried to touch my vagina?  Was I wrong for trusting that my "father figure" would'nt do anything inappropriate? If I was wrong for trusting him, how does that NOT make my mom wrong now?  I kept trusting, because my mom trusted him.  I kept going to him for love and affection, because that is what my mom did. I kept treating him like my parent because that is what I was taught to do.  I modeled the behavior and acceptance of this abuse.  Until last year, that is when I started to think for myself and act upon my own gut feelings about this.  And as soon as I did that, I was disowned and abandoned.  

I was NOT in the wrong.  I was a child and I should have been protected.  I am still not in the wrong, publicly speaking about this.

I will never stop speaking about this.  I believe that sharing my experience is the only way to live a life free from the bonds it created.  I believe that speaking my truth is not only empowering to me, but for others who hear it.  Sexual abuse should NOT be swept under a rug.  It should be discussed, dealt with, and out in the open for healing.  People need to be educated and informed.  That is the only way to ever attempt to stop this from happening again and again to children.  

I know, just as sure as the sun rises, that every time I speak about this, I push the wedge in farther and  the great divide that exists now between my mother and I (and her family) widens. I know that each push subsequently forces those in denial further away. With each push I feel the agonizing pain; the sorrow and loss of so many I held dear in my life, the hurt at my outrageous abandonment, the wounds of not being chosen time and time again. The sting of betrayal, the shock of their denial.  I feel it all each and every time I 'push'.  

But, something else happens with each push of this wedge; I feel my resolve grow stronger, I feel my commitment to healing get bigger and I feel more empowered.  I'm never going to back down again and crawl back to them in blind acceptance of their abuse and denial or their blatant disregard for my well-being.  This 38 year old Brandi is standing up for that little girl and I won't ever let her feel alone again. I have her back.  I believe in myself, because I was deserving of protection and a safe environment, and when it wasn't safe or healthy it wasn't my fault that it affected me the way that it has and continues to.  

When I saw those pictures today, I made some outspoken comments on facebook knowing my mother would see them.  (until she blocked me again...or maybe even deactivated her facebook for a while) That hurt little angry girl who has NEVER once received validation from her mother lashed out.  I know it upsets her and I hoped it caused her pain because admittedly in that moment, I didn't care.  I wanted her to feel a speck of the pain I have felt.  That I know is not the definition of 'forgiveness'.  I thought I had begun the journey to forgive her, but today proves I'm still a ways off.  And that's ok.  I'm allowing myself time and space to keep making this journey of healing.  Because I'm still grieving, I have a lifetime of memories to remember and with them a lifetime of loss to mourn.  

Each day that goes by without a phone call only further proves she is still incapable of telling me what I need to hear. And each day that passes only adds more pain and hurt to recover from; but that is on her.  If/when she ever wants to be in my life again, she will have a lot of time to make up for. 

For now the crashing waves of tears have ceased just as risen waters recede after flooding.  I feel the calm after the storm and in the calm I once again feel hope.  I do not know what the future holds, but I know I will be ok.  And even as sure as I am that another storm will surely hit, for such is the cycle of life; I know that I will make it through that too.  I am strong.  I am a survivor.  And I'm glad I don't have the "flashy thingey" that Will Smith has, because there are far too many beautiful memories to hold tight to...kissing my husband for the first time, becoming his wife, gazing upon my babies faces for the first time and every time since, laughing with my family and friends, and living my life with joy.  

When black and white turns to gray

Do you ever have days where nothing makes sense and you just don't know what is "right and wrong"? Where the concrete black and white thinking just turns to gray and becomes muddled...

 I'm having this problem now.  Where does one draw the line between following scripture's command to "turn the other cheek" and setting healthy boundaries in the name of self preservation?

I feel like Christians would say if we are following Jesus's commands, we just keep turning despite that our face is bloody and raw from all the slapping.  

Society on the other hand does a lot of talking about self-love in the name of mental health and wellness; a concept which I struggled to understand and accept until it was explained to me this way: when on an airplane being given emergency instructions you are told to put your oxygen mask on first before trying to help another because if you lose consciousness you are of no help to anyone else. 

This makes perfect sense, because in life, we have to be healthy first before we can be any good to anyone else.  This resonates with me on a deep and personal level; after years of not being mentally well in which I felt I was useless to my family.  I had to "get well" before I could be a better wife and mom.  

So what if the toxic words of people in my life are tempting me back into that place of un-wellness?  Is it then that I take a step back and no longer "turn the other cheek"?  

There is just something about receiving hurtful words that make me want to stop turning my cheek.  They make me want to lace up the boxing gloves and get back into the ring to fight the fight I've been battling for years.  But I vowed to take off those gloves and give the fight to God because I learned after years of using fight or flight response as my only defense that not only was it not working, it was no longer necessary.  I am safe.  I am loved.  I belong.  I am worthy.

But when a texting battle between me and my first born knocks the wind out of me, it brings be back to this place of undeniable hurt and suffering where I want to draw a line in the sand; a defensive line to stand behind in the heat of battle and I want to take up arms and guard my heart. I want to take her picture off the wall and smash it to pieces because her words, those are not from my daughter but from a stranger intent on delivering crushing blows just as my abuser did to me.  I don't  want to look up at the photo hanging on the wall to see her sweet angelic face while hearing her evil words and picturing her with a sneer just as evil upon her face.  The face that grew inside my belly for 9 months, the face I gazed upon with love after pushing her out.  The face I've known for 19 years.  The face I've wiped tears from her eyes, and the face I've layered sweet kisses upon her cheeks.  No her face is now a face of ugliness and hatred and I can't just stand here and take it, turn my cheek, I want to duck and dodge and come back swinging.  I know this face of a "mean girl" because she stood here in my house with her fists bawled up at her sides, her jaw tightly clenched, her eyes filled with tears and her chin quivering as she took "their" side and demanded that I repair broken relationships with "them".  This face, it pushed and prodded and blamed and accused.  This face, it said "You are the one getting in the way of having a relationship with my grandma" as if I was the one who created this problem.  This face, it gave me an ultimatum; either I choose to continue on living in denial of my abuse and coexist with my abusers or I lose her to those who abused me. This face, it said "I personally don't have a problem with the man who molested you".  This face, it said "your life wasn't that bad, it's not like he raped you."  And then, I told this face to get out, this face, was not the face of my Rachael, she had become "their" Rachael. 

She continues to not be "my" Rachael as she spews these words of hatred and vehement anger toward me.  It's been 10 months from the time she moved away and she is still angry, she blasts me with texts stating that I am a worthless mother and human being.  She tells me I am not even deserving of motherhood when all I ever wanted to do or be was a mom.  When I sacrificed everything in my life at the tender age of 18 to become her mom.  When I could have opted for the "easy way out" but instead chose her life over mine. When I could have listened to the boy I thought I loved when he threatened to leave me, making it clear if I was to have our baby, he was walking away because he didn't want to be a father yet.  I chose her.  I lost him, I gained her.  (It was a far better trade off.)  I lost the rest of my "childhood" because let's face it, at 18 we are still just kids ourselves.  At 18, I was experiencing my first taste of freedom from my the rules of my dictator/abuser/parent and just 3 months after turning 18 and achieving this freedom, I became pregnant. But still...I chose her.  I chose to have her despite that I knew it would be difficult and I would be alone.  I chose to have her because from the minute I knew she was in my belly; I loved her.  I chose to have her even though my childhood had endured abuse and uncertainty and I would be entering parenthood without the skills to succeed.  I thought love was enough.  If I just loved her, and took care of her it would all be ok.  I thought if I just did things differently than my parents, her life would be better than mine.  

I guess I was wrong.  Now 19 years later instead of love and appreciation for not ending her life I am told that I am worthless.  Instead of understanding for what I went through and knowledge that I did my best I am told that she wishes I were dead.  Instead of accepting my apologies for my mistakes and shortcomings I am told she wishes I would have succeeded in my suicide attempt.  So yesterday after dropping my son off at school when I pull into the garage, the "scene of the crime" where I tried to take my life two years ago, I'm haunted by her words and I wonder...would we all be better off, is that the answer to escape this pain and heartache?  

I choke back a sob as I reach to turn the keys in the ignition to off because I hear loud and clear the answer to that is "NO". I am needed and loved and would be missed.  I am valued and appreciated; words that come from my beloved husband and my son who both give me thanks and praise daily because they have soft tender hearts whose love language is most definitely words of affirmation.  

Life would not be better if I wasn't in it.  

But I fear I have no cheeks left to turn.  My face and my heart are raw and wounded.  I feel like I'm hanging on by a thread, just one more spiteful word or hurt and I might snap back into the belief that I'm no good in this world.  I fear one more slap to my face and stab to my heart and I will spring back into the fighting stance.

Again I'm reminded of what those days of battling were like and that I have given the fight over to the One who already won.  So like always, I keep going. I press on.  I persevere.  Sure I took a "mental health" day this week in which I told my husband I didn't have it in me to cook, clean or care and he sweetly brought home tv dinners to feed us supper.  Yesterday I cleaned and cooked, today I care.  

All those years ago when my abuser tried to break me down into nothing, when his words ate away at my soul and his belittling eroded my self-worth; what was actually happening was that I was building an immunity that would someday turn into formidable strength and determination. He'd say I'm "too thin skinned" as if it was a bad thing.  Hows about I'm sweet and compassionate as compared to his cold reptilian heart.  When he called me 'duh' instead of my name, it made me love my name even more.  Brandi means 'beacon light'.  When I'm on fire...watch out world...this girl is gonna shine bright.  

So go ahead, daughter of mine...spew your words of hatred, but I will turn my cheek again and again and forgive you and love you from afar. But nothing you can say will change my will to live.  And with this determination to live my life to it's fullest; embracing love with my heart wide open, I have learned to love back.  And I love you, and I always will no matter how much you hurt me. Sure, I might get angry back for a little while...but in the end I am the one who rises above and forgives.  Apparently that is what thin skinned people do, because my thin skin has allowed love and light to shine into it and in turn reflect from me empathy and compassion for others; my thin skin has given me the ability to absorb not only the bad but all the light and joy in this world and I would rather be "thin skinned" than coated in thick scales like the snake that uttered those words and tried to shape me into something else than what I was created to be. 

 Maybe it's ok that none of "this" is black and white.  Maybe I need to live in the gray for a while.  Allow myself the freedom to heal, decide for myself what path is best, even make a few more mistakes to learn and grow from.  Maybe with loved ones and matters of the heart it's not all black and white.  Will I ever turn my back on my first born child, my flesh and blood, my baby girl?  No.  Will I continue to accept her tormenting words.  No.  I told her if she spoke to me that way again, I would block her number for a while.  Now it's quiet.  No more texts.  Time to heal, room to breathe again.  In the gray.

Maybe the place where black and white turn to gray is where the rain comes, bringing tears of grief and sorrow but only for a short while because the sun is always there in the sky and eventually the gray dissipates and then the rainbows shine brightly with every color of creation; where nothing is black and white but instead brightly colored and brilliant in the sunlight. Warmth and beauty that I can absorb with my thin skin and spread to others! 

Kutless - What Faith Can Do

Everybody falls sometimes

Gotta find the strength to rise

From the ashes

And make a new beginning

Anyone can feel the ache

You think it's more than you can take

But you're stronger

Stronger than you know

Don't you give up now

The sun will soon be shining

You gotta face the clouds

To find the silver lining

I've seen dreams that move the mountains

Hope that doesn't ever end

Even when the sky is falling

I've seen miracles just happen

Silent prayers get answered

Broken hearts become brand new

That's what faith can do

It doesn't matter what you've heard

Impossible is not a word

It's just a reason

For someone not to try

Everybody's scared to death

When they decide to take that step

Out on the water

It'll be alright

Life is so much more

Than what your eyes are seeing

You will find your way

If you keep believing

I've seen dreams that move the mountains

Hope that doesn't ever end

Even when the sky is falling

I've seen miracles just happen

Silent prayers get answered

Broken hearts become brand new

That's what faith can do

Overcome the odds

You don't have a chance

(That's what faith can do)

When the world says you can't

It'll tell you that you can

I've seen dreams that move the mountains

Hope that doesn't ever end

Even when the sky is falling

And I've seen miracles just happen

Silent prayers get answered

Broken hearts become brand new

That's what faith can do

That's what faith can do

Even if you fall sometimes

You will have the strength to rise

Live.Laugh.Love.Celebrate Life.

38 years ago today I was born...

The birthdays that followed were always cause for celebration; surrounded by friends and family, dressed in fancy party dresses, my hair adorned with pig tails as I blew out the candles.  

I have pictures...some from my baby book, (which is why some are missing because scotch tape doesn't hold up for 38 years!) others from photo albums I've since acquired.  There are photos of me blowing out my candles, pictures of me sitting in a circle of kids with a pile of gifts, snapshots of family members present to celebrate with us.  My ninth birthday I begged my mom to let me have all of the girls in my scout troop, 8 in total which meant a house full of 9 little girls, 9 sleeping bags strewn across our living room and 9 little overtired girls by the end of a late night.  It was memorable chaos!

My birthday was always fun and a reason to celebrate.  Until it all changed...

 My parents divorced when I was 9 1/2.  My tenth birthday was a quiet celebration with my 1 closest friend sleeping over at our new apartment. No family.  No party. There were other birthdays that were simply my mom, my baby brother and me.  I remember one in particular with a little microwave cake, atop sat one lonely glowing candle.  That was the year we got locked out of the apartment and I had to shimmy up the drain pipe, hop onto the balcony and come in through the sliding door to unlock the front door. 

I did have some birthdays with our blended family present but once she remarried it never felt like a celebration.   Not if her husband was around.  He was anti-celebration.  He saw no reason to enjoy birthdays.  Now that I look back at it, he failed to enjoy much in life.  Which drastically changed my outlook on life.  

After the divorce/remarry I lost touch with my daddy and his side of our family.  7 years of birthdays without seeing them, celebrating with them; knowing them.

When I became a mom and a wife and it was up to me to plan parties.  In the beginning I tried to have both sides present, but that was tough.  So after my kids had a few big birthday parties surrounded by friends and family it turned into celebrating with just my husband, myself and my mom.  Always my mom.  She's been there for all of our birthdays.  Mine, my kids.  Even a few of my husbands.  Because we spent a lot of time together.  And when push came to shove, I chose her over my father's family.  I couldn't have both sides here comfortably, so I picked her.  

When my birthdays rolled around she'd be sure to be here either the day of or immediately before or after to celebrate with me.  It became our tradition to have a fun girl day.  Lunch, shopping, cake.  Fun.  Love.

Despite the struggle of my childhood, she always did her best to make me feel special.  She just couldn't make up for what was missing.  A dad.  A sense of belonging within my family. 

This year, marks the first time in 38 years I won't be seeing my mom.  Why?  It's been almost an entire year since we've spoken, laid eyes upon each other, embraced in a mother-daughter hug.  She's disowned me.  And while her actions have given me soul crushing pain it's also provided me with freedom.  I no longer have to choose.  I am open to give love and receive love.  Sadly, our relationship is broken,  but every other relationship is finally being restored; and there is healing in my life.  

Last week as my birthday approached I became sad, and understandably emotional and pictured this day as no reason to celebrate.  It's habit to believe that I shouldn't want/need to celebrate.  But I dismissed that, every day is a reason to find joy.  Why not the day God brought me into this world?  

This year will be different.  I am choosing joy.  Even with the tears of sadness, even with the absence of my mom.  I want to throw back my head, with arms wide open embrace this life with all the joy and gratitude I can muster.  I want to live.laugh.love.  Fully.  

We went to dinner Friday to celebrate, knowing we'd have a full weekend ahead of us.  

I've struggled to enjoy life and it's moments of celebration; one year my husband told our server at Texas Roadhouse that it was my birthday and I almost killed him.  I did NOT want attention, I did NOT want them singing happy birthday to me and I would be damned before I hopped on top that saddle reserved for the birthday patron.  

This year was different and I believe it marks the beginning of a lot of changes. 

Yesterday I was blessed to be surrounded by friends and family at my Aunt & Uncles house.  They hosted a Kentucky Derby party.  Why?  Because life is meant to be lived and finding reasons to have a party and enjoy life is what happy people do.  All of us ladies wore derby hats.  

It was a blast!!

My sweet big brother, sister in law and my amazing nieces gave me these gorgeous calla lillies...

And today...my Dad and step mom are stopping by to visit.  I can't put into words how excited I am.  I think the last time I saw my Daddy ON my birthday was when I was 9.  So while I might be missing my mom today, and no...nothing can ever replace her; I will be surrounded by love and blessed beyond measure to spend my day celebrating with family.    I prayed that I wouldn't find myself feeling sad but able to live laugh and love and I've been blessed beyond measure this birthday weekend. God is awesome.  He answered my prayers, and then some.  

Crying...

Ever have one of those days you just can't seem to stop crying?  Well I have a lot and tonight is one of them.

I JUST CAN'T STOP CRYING!!

Crying for me has always equaled depression, for that is when I thought I had cried the most.  Lately it seems like I'm shedding more tears than ever before. I believe it's because I'm finally understanding what they are falling for and I am free to feel emotions for the first time ever. And boy oh boy am I feeling: grief, loss, mourning, rejection, abandonment, sorrow, doubt, sadness and loneliness.

But to deny myself the opportunity to release my feelings, and give them to the only One who can Heal would keep me crying forever.  

So I say to these tears that flow tonight...let them fall like rain!

It's ok...

What if every time I let the tears fall He is right here?
What if I'm meant to feel His presence with each and every tear?
What if each drop that falls from my eyes are meant to heal with time?
What if every time I cry, He's telling me, "You are Mine"?
What if I remember this and freely let my tears fall?
What if I accept I am His beloved and not unloved at all?

I wait for His healing in my tears
I believe in His Comfort in my sorrows
I receive His blessings in my pain
I hope for His Joy for my tomorrows 

Psalm 56:8
You keep track of all my sorrows.  You have collected all  my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book. 

Revelations 21:4
He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying,  nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.

When All Hope Seems Lost

I awoke at 3 am today, in too much pain to sleep.  I tossed & turned as much as one can with only 2 positions to sleep in that support my arm, but both brought severe pain.  Earlier this week I thought I had turned a corner as I stopped taking narcotic pain medicine but at 4 am I gave up on the idea of sleep and crept out to the living room, I gave in and took one.  

I've always experienced side effects of mood disturbances when I take pain medicines, so I've grown increasingly more despondent since my surgery and had hoped to wean myself off asap.  After a few days with no drugs in my system I could feel my mood lifting. I even stopped isolating; spending several hours on the phone with a friend Tuesday and yesterday I spent the morning with another friend who came over for a visit.  The clouds lifted both literally as the sun shone for a few days, and figuratively as my drug induced depression lifted and I rejoined the human race. 

Guess what's back today?  Gray skies and rain along with a sad empty feeling of hopelessness. Fitting.

It's not just my physical pain and emotional turmoil that brings me down, it's everything and everywhere. I don't know how much more my soul can handle.  With nothing but devastation in the world around us and unrelenting news stories of tragedy, I feel no hope for a brighter tomorrow.  Monday's bombings mean more terrorism on US soil, a place that once felt safe no longer does.  Last night's explosion in Texas brings more loss of life, more pain, more tears.  

It begs the question "Where is God in all of this?", which has always been a query I've been unable to answer leaving me feeling like a pathetic excuse for a Christian...for how can I witness without an answer for all of this?  How do I tell an unbeliever something I fail to understand?  

How do I tell a family member where God is when she just gets saved and then loses her Grandfather?  How do I tell a friend where God is when she loses her parent?  How do I tell a friend where God is when she loses her unborn baby?  How can I do that when I can't tell you where God was when I was molested?  Or where God was when I was rejected time and again?  Or where the hell God is now that I am abandoned by my own mom?  Where is God in this cruel world, when my own flesh and blood wants nothing to do with me?  Where are you God? Where?

I'm no stranger to depression and the desire to escape it's grip with "plan B".  I can't tell you how many times I have planned to end my life to escape the pain I feel; to escape the hopelessness that grows so dark that it threatens to swallow me whole. That is no way to live and as it becomes unbearable, finding a way out seems like the only viable option.  

All I can say is is this: In the face of the ever-present evil in this world, no matter the prevalence of disease, famine, poverty, and devastation, despite how much grief I feel; one small flicker of hope remains.  It is my belief that this earth shall pass and there will come a day with no more pain, no more tears, just endless joy for all of eternity.  And when I realize the reason I can look forward to this future, I'm reminded of His sacrifice that gives me this open invitation to paradise.  When I'm reminded of His love and grace, I'm convicted to live a life worthy of His sacrifice and that is when my hope grows brighter.  It's a daily renewal, and some days by my own weakness I give into despair and then when all hope seems lost I find myself at the same crossroad time and time again, at the foot of the Cross, where... 
* I bring my heart to everyday and run the risk of fearlessly loving without running away.  

*Jason Gray lyrics*

Loved By Choice

When I dream it's like watching a movie; at certain parts I  am squinting as though I have a muddled view through a camera lens.  In other instances the image is vibrant and clear and I feel like I am the one starring in the film.  Friday night I dreamed I was adopted.  The faces of those who chose me as their own were blurred, but the love radiated was so tangible I felt as if it was my story and I was in the scene.  I knew they went out of their way to choose me and they loved me so strongly that I awoke feeling the lingering warmth of their love.   Loved by choice, not by obligation were the words on my mind.  I wondered all day why I had this dream, and what it meant.

Last night in my dream I was out to lunch with my mom.  Some details were hazy such as where we were and who we were with; yet in one vivid still frame, with my eyes wide open she turned to me and coldly uttered the words "I hate you."

My mom has never spoken those words to me for real, just this once in the confines of my sleepy subconscious. I awoke with a heavy heart. Throughout the day I continued to feel the sadness draining me of my hope as I recalled the sting of those phantom words.  Words that echo in my dreams and reverberate in my heart, words unspoken yet expressed in actions.  

Abandonment
Rejection 
Betrayal  

Three words who's actions speak "I hate you" loud and clear.

I have left you, I no longer want you and I do not choose you.  It's no different than hearing "I hate you."

Today I am struggling to believe in who I am.  I am lost and alone.  I am torn apart and turned around. I am hollowed and empty.  I am barely breathing.  I am hardly holding on.   I am trapped inside my memories of a life I can't leave behind.  I am a little girl.  

I am a little girl from a broken home; 
I am abandoned.  I am rejected. I am lost and alone.
I am a little girl with a shattered heart; 
I am forced to choose.  I am twisted and torn apart.
I am a little girl in a new family; 
I am hoping and praying for someone to love me for me.
I am a little girl and I am not one of them; 
I am the black sheep and I am not fitting in.
I am a little girl who is taunted mocked and teased; 
I am not his kid, with nothing is he pleased.
I am a little girl grown up before my time;
I am not the owner of my body, or the keeper of my mind.
I am a little girl I am needing to be loved;
I return again and again but I am only to be shoved.
I am a little girl I am the one to blame; 
I am at fault for continuing to take part in his game.
I am a little girl with a secret to bear; 
if I break my silence rejection will be all I am to hear.

Today as I recall last night's dream, I know why I dreamt it; I feel as if my mom hates me.  I believe The Lord gave me the other dream to remind me that I am His beloved. 
I am loved by choice, not obligation.

I am a little girl my life is not my own; 
I have entrusted it to Him who reigns from Heaven's Throne.
I am a little girl a daughter of The Risen King; 
He is my Heavenly Father Who's truth in me will ring.
I am a little girl Chosen and called by name;
I am His lost sheep and He will show me the way.

I am a little girl belonging to the Son; 
the One who shed His blood for me, then whispered "it is done".