Grace like rain

How is it that you can read a blog post by someone you don't know
and it has you wanting to cry and cry and cry because it is your story??
Her words opened up flood gates within me that I didn't know were blocked.
Everything she wrote resonated with me.
Everything.
From the squeezing
to the letting go
from walking away from the friends that don't want you
to the healing found in quiet and stillness
from the embarassement of quitting
to the freedom of new beginnings
from feeling less than for far too long
to knowing that it is well past time to forgive yourself.
from the unclenching of my hands and jaw
to the peace I never knew I needed
from recognizing the fact that I kept holding my breath
to the realization that God wanting me alive and breathing
That others were affecting me body and soul
and the damage was slowly killing me
From keeping my eyes downcast out of sheer humiliation
to lifting my face to the healing rain of grace
from learning to speak my truth
and no longer being afraid to be me.
I want to stand in this downpour with my head thrown back
and my arms open wide
accepting all of the grace God has in store for me.
Let it rain.

Pity Party In the Garden

Sarah wrote a post about friendship today.

Part of her post talked about who you'd want to be with you in the Garden of Gethsemane.

If you, like Jesus, were in that garden and knew what lay ahead for you,
who would you want next to you?

Who would you want to share that unimaginable moment with?
Who would you need to share it with?

She talked about having inner circles of friendships.

I know church people.
People I only encounter at worship services.
I wouldn't consider any of them friends tho, with the exception of one woman.

Is that bad?! That I don't have friends at church?

I have a few acquaintances that I consider friendlike.
Michelle and I used to be best friends in high school. I miss her like crazy. We are Facebook friends now, and not much else. It feels awkward to talk to her. She left the relationship first. I have no idea why, other than she got married first and had a baby first and our lives were never the same after that. And yet...
If she gave me half a chance, I would smother her with this need I have to be her friend once again.

Is that bad?! That I want to smother her with my friendship?

Michelle's sister and I became friendly after Michelle went off into her married mommy life.
Her sister and I were very much like best friends for 20 years before we stopped talking.
That relationship ended because I could no longer stand to listen to her brag about her children.
I just stopped calling.
She was so into her kids, that I truly don't believe she noticed I had stopped calling.
She was hysterically funny, with a wicked sense of humor (most of it aimed at her husband).
She saved me from Post Partum depression back in the day and I am forever grateful to her for that.
I do miss her friendship, terribly, but I don't miss those brag sessions.
Never could figure out how to tell her to shut up a sec and listen to me about my own fabulous kids.

Is that bad?! That I couldn't figure out how to tell her to shut up about her kids for a sec?
Cuz if I call her and try to tell her, she's gonna start bragging about her kids again. (I know. I've tried.)

Is it bad that Dawn moved to Nashville for a job, met a new man and we just lost touch?
Is it bad that Angie moved to Texas and then to Colorado without giving me her forwarding address?
Is it bad that Pepper moved away when we were 6 years old and I still wonder whatever happened to her?
That Pam died of an asthma attack in the middle of "Bumfuck" North Dakota too far away from a hospital to be saved?
That Evelyn married Mark and they both just disappeared? Off the face of the Earth?
That Debbie got married and divorced, married and divorced and married again and only lives 20 minutes away from me and I did not know it??

I am starting to see a pattern here.

Who's gonna sit with me in this garden??

My best friend and Sister-in-law CC will sit with me.
This I know to be true.
This. I. Know.
We've known each other for 31 years.
Ups, downs and all arounds.
I no longer do life without her.

My sisters too, of course.
Since one of us is already gone, we remaining 3 seem to have tied our ships together.
Where one ventures, we all venture.
And I would have it no other way.

My kids will sit with me cuz, well, they're my kids.
I hope that I would keep my big fat mouth shut and just soak in the amazing beauty of each one of them.
Usually I issue commands and instructions...blah, blah, blah.
I would hope that they would want to sit with me cuz they like me as a person.
I ain't holding my breath on that one.

My husband would probably want to sit with me.
I love that man down to my very bones.
I love his face, and his eyes.
I love the look of his hands and the shape of his legs.
He's so smart that it's scary.
And the way he smells???
Heaven. Pure heaven.
Just like heaven smells I imagine.
That man of mine smells so good it is sinful.
Did I mention that he smells good?
He just thinks about himself too much.
His own needs, his own comforts, his own wants.
It would be hard on me, him sitting next to me, thinking about hisself,
whilst I'm in the Garden of Gethsemane.

Lastly, I would want Jesus there with me.
Jesus would BE there with me whether I wanted Him to be or not.
Jesus is always there, with me and for me.
In the Garden of Gethsemane or my garden in the back yard.

He's there when I'm feeling lonely or mistreated.
When friends move away or when friends stop calling, Jesus is there.
He was there when Pam died, when Debbie got her divorces, when Angie moved across the country.
He's with Dawn and Pepper and Evelyn and Mark wherever they are.
He's there when Michelle messages me on Facebook.
And when I forget for a moment about her history of bragging
and I call Michelle's sister to talk about something,
He is there while I sit and listen to her brag about her kids.

Thank you Jesus.
For old friends and new friends.
For church friends and sister-friends.
For family friends and husbands who want to be friends.
Thank you for them all.

I'll meet You in the garden of your choosing.

Under the influence and difficult

This post is not about what you are thinking it is.
This post is about me and how I am learning to write out my story.
This post is me being under the influence of some pretty fabulous Christian women.
Christian women writers and Bloggers to be exact.
If I was a better Blogger, I would have them all listed in a side bar here on my blog.
But since I'm not sure how to do that I'm just gonna have to put them on here in a post.
I've not been blogging long. A little more than a year I think.
It's been difficult to say the least.
Difficult to find my voice.
Difficult to string more than a few words together to form a complete sentence.
Difficult to not erase everything I've just typed and just say fuck it and walk away.
Difficult to not give up on myself and this blogging thing.
Right now, these women are saving my life.
Right now, these women are telling me to keep writing my own story.
Even if no one ever reads it.

1. Addie
2. Leslie
3. Sarah
4. Emily

There are so many others but I will save them for another post.
Meanwhile, these 4 are giving me back to myself.
Their life journeys and soul stories and courage to say it anyway styles are inspiring me.

If you get the chance, pop over and read their stuff.
I laugh, I cry, I feel the same raw emotions as they do.
They are teaching me life lessons.
They speak to my soul.
I am blessed to have found them on this blogosphere.


They're saving me one story, one blog post, one revelation at a time.
And they don't even know it.

Jesus and those Bodacious Women

Most of the time I sit here and stare at my lap top for what can seem like hours.
There's that little cursor, blinking at me, waiting for my words to spill out.
It makes me wonder if they named it a cursor onaccounta I feel like cursing every time it blinks.
Quietly mocking me....waiting for me to make a move.
It's constant blinking acting like it's the silent heartbeat of my computer.
It makes me question myself...it taunts me...haunts me.
Got nothing to say again today, do ya?
Its innocent blinking makes me feel like a failure.
And I don't believe that this incessant blinking is so innocent after all.
Cuz I'm afraid that it's true.
I have nothing to say.
Well, I do, but I don't know how to write it out.

I watched Tony Robbins on Oprah a while back.
He stated that journaling had save his life.
Gosh darn it!
I wish that journaling was saving my life too.
Don't get me wrong, I feel like that is the answer.

I need to start writing stuff down to get it out of my head.
But like a bully on the playground just waiting to pounce on me,
I sit down to this keyboard and the blinking starts.
Where is my sense of self? Who am I anymore?
Where have I gone?
Who or what is holding the key to my voice?
What is it that is preventing me from finding my way?

I found this book at Barnes and Noble the other day.
After each small chapter there is a section called Just Between Us.
There are some really intriguing questions here and I want to answer them.
Well, okay, only some of them.
Like "Have you been standing alone for a long time?"
Or "Can you believe that God has been with you and for you all this time?"
Or this one "What do you need to do to breathe again?"

I am wondering if I should post a question to my blog once a week and then try to answer it.
I thought that's what I was going to do when I chose my word for the year.
I would write once a week about finding the light in my life, but I realize now that I haven't done anything with that word at all.
That just reaffirms to me that I am not a writer...dare I say yet???

Maybe these questions go a bit deeper?
Maybe going a bit deeper is what I need to do to find the crux of my problem and to fix it.

Alrighty then, with that being said..... here is the first question-
What is stealing your voice right now?

Crap.

If I knew what was stealing my voice I think I would be able to fix it.

Is it fear?  And if it is, what am I afraid of?
Am I lacking in basic english skills?
Am I afraid to write?
Am I not knowledgeable enough to write?
Nobody reads this blog, so what does it matter?
And what does that say about me?
Afraid of sounding stupid, of lacking in some manner?
But if nobody is reading this blog, then What. Does. It. Matter??

What IS stealing my voice right now?

The only answer I can come up with is fear.
But why fear?
What exactly am I fearful of?

I need an answer as to how to get rid of this fear.
And nothing is forthcoming.

So I sit.
And wait.
And I watch the blinking cursor.
And I curse the blinking watcher.

Sitting in the silence.
Trapped by my own fear.

My fear of what?

Manifestation

My sister died back in 2008. She was 48.
Left behind 3 kids. A grown son, well 23...is that grown??
She also left behind 2 daughters, one was 19, and the other was 10.
The 10 year old grieved inappropriately and by that I mean not at all really.
Kept a smile on her face throughout the wake and the funeral and later acted as if her life hadn't changed at all.
It was weird and disturbing.
Gramma and her Dad thought she handled the situation wonderfully.
Look at how strong she is being? Isn't she a neat kid? So grown up and mature.
Um...guys???
I was frantic to make them understand that what was happening was so not good.
But, since neither one of them were handling the death of my sister, their daughter and wife with any kind of maturity themselves, I was at a loss as to what to do.
So I chose to do nothing.      Nothing.      Nada.      Zilch.
My two surviving sisters and I felt helpless to change the situation.
Gramma and Dad were now the primary caregivers of a 10 year old girl.
Gramma, who grieves through anger and blaming.
Dad a prescription pain pill addict, grieving only for himself.
If they said she was doing ok, who was I to say  no she ain't! ???
But in my mind, I knew. I knew that she was not ok.
With any of this.
Hell, I wasn't ok with any of this! What made me think that she would be??
Nobody can act that normal, especially a 10 year old girl who's just buried her mom.

It took 4 and half years for it to manifest itself into something ugly.

And to be truthful, I figured she would find the love that she was so desperately craving in a bottle of black hair dye and some piercings.
Heavy metal, grunge music seeping through her closed bedroom door.
Maybe a tattoo or two. A skull and a rose?
Possibly (horribly) lose herself in the world of addiction with pills, powders, needles and booze.
Teen pregnancy maybe??? A boy to love her for the time it took to make a baby and then leave her??

Today at school, she told a counselor that she wanted to die.
That she thought about taking her own life.
That it hurt too much to live anymore.

And the grief comes out. In whatever way it can.
Can you imagine the intensity of that pain?
The pain of a 14 year old girl, who just wants to cut herself to death?

DCFS took her from her addle-pated Dad just a few short weeks ago.
Someone at the school finally realized that she was raising herself in that sick addicted atmosphere.
They recognized the signs of neglect...dirty hair, dirty clothes, overweight, failing grades.
So in one aspect, the system was in the process of saving her.

We were unaware of the cuttings.
We were unaware of the nature of her thoughts.

But she knew.

And Bless her soul...she decided to save herself.
Today she told a counselor that she wanted to die.
And today she is on her way to getting the help she so desperately needs.
The help she so desperately deserves.

I want to tell her:
It's gonna be a long road but you've taken the first step.
Do you even know how fabulous you are?!
You. Saved. Yourself.
Stay strong sweet girl.
Love you T!