“First star I see tonight…”

In the daytime there are stars in the heavens, but they only shine at night.
And the deeper that I go into the darkness the more I see their radiant light.
So let me learn that my losses are my gain;
to be broken is to heal;
that the valley’s where Your power is revealed.

-Bob Kauflin, “In the Valley”

I have been on a journey of late, one of finding me some more. It has been hard and long, arduous. I feel the stretching of it still, like aches in my emotional muscles. A good ache even while it throbs.

Oh, how it does so! So many emotions have been awaken these last weeks. Those that have tripped me up and some that I never knew existed. To much feeling so oft, so much I was left floundering in them , too many I told a friend.

“Yes, she said.”

Can we sit with that a while? She said, “Yes.” to me.

“Yes,” you have feelings. “Yes,” they are a lot. “Yes,” you are allowed to feel. “yes,” and it’s ok.

To me, Tammy.

It was like a get out of jail free card.

In abuse feelings aren’t recognized except as an opportunity to turn them again us. Our abusers to make fun as they taunt us. To laugh and heap on more abuse if we show our true feelings. Hence we learn to bottle them up, hide how we feel and even lie to ourselves.

But, she said, “Yes.”

This a key that gave me so much. Bolstered me to say to myself, “Yes!” as well.

“Yes,” I feel this, “Yes,” these feelings are mine, “Yes,” I can accept them, process them and grow from this. I can be me unto more, rather than less.

Best part? She didn’t leave me hanging, wondering, “Ok, so they are mine and too much, but now what?”

I never was taught how to feel, to soothe myself or face the avalanche of them. My abuse taught me to cringe from me, run and hide, never ever to face them. I didn’t have a gentle touch or soothing tone, no looks of love or open arms… how was I to learn what all love shows when no love was there?

I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

No fault of mine, just truth.

Now, I know. I am finding the stars in the night that are showing the way to the light of day.

This friend shared with me one of the biggest and brightest stars gifted to us of God, the truth of our being free to choose to give the emotion to God. To turn to my loving Abba, Daddy, and say, “Here, Papa, I am feeling too much. Please hold this awhile and help me be ready to take it back when you have readied me. Soothe me, Lord, and prepare me. Strengthen me by Your example and be my strength then.”

He did.

He always does.

He is my present that He be my past, fill in the voids and blanks.

I able to live in my today for He is here, my past faced for He was there, my future safe for He is already there as well.

Past, present, future…

all mine to live.

13227160_1328033217213663_1755416035764852480_n*Psalms 19 1-2 God’s glory is on tour in the skies,
    God-craft on exhibit across the horizon.
Madame Day holds classes every morning,
    Professor Night lectures each evening.

3-4 Their words aren’t heard,
    their voices aren’t recorded,
But their silence fills the earth:
    unspoken truth is spoken everywhere.

4-5 God makes a huge dome
    for the sun—a superdome!
The morning sun’s a new husband
    leaping from his honeymoon bed,
The day breaking sun an athlete
    racing to the tape.

That’s how God’s Word vaults across the skies
    from sunrise to sunset,
Melting ice, scorching deserts,
    warming hearts to faith.

7-9 The revelation of God is whole
    and pulls our lives together.
The signposts of God are clear
    and point out the right road.
The life-maps of God are right,
    showing the way to joy.
The directions of God are plain
    and easy on the eyes.
God’s reputation is twenty-four-carat gold,
    with a lifetime guarantee.
The decisions of God are accurate
    down to the nth degree.

*https://www.biblegateway.com/

 

 

THIS THING CALLED LOVE

11889665_10153614648263628_8693939157186261461_nI am noticing people of late, those that are in love.

The way love works for them, the give and take of it.

I find that I am learning it isn’t what I was taught.

It is a give and not take.

Yes, there is the getting, but it comes in giving, not demanding or grabbing with expectation.

It is more of a glowing.

I like what I am seeing and learning.

I notice the gentle leaning in to experience the others space.

Full attention given to the other, because they want to truly hear what is said,k share in the excitement and enthusiasm of the words.

There is a body language here of communicating and concern, of care and true devotion.

Smiles shared, tears caught, linking happening.

I like what I am finding.

Yes, I cry about it, I drip drops of, “What would it be like if that were mine?”

But they are cleansing tears, emptying kind.

Ones that wash out the memories so I am empty of past for God to fill with present.

Perhaps someday I will find this, someone to hold as precious to me. Who will see me as such too.

I have my Lord to love me like this, I am so in love with Him. I know He understands my desiring a person as well, while also knowing He is my enough.

I never really had love as it was meant to be. Mine was using and discarding, taking with no return. But that was then and is no more.

I chose to see now, to marvel at the love that surrounds me. To embrace friendship, family ebb and flow, to give love as it was designed.

Love finds its way around, it is a circle of life…

I am in that circle now…

here to stay.12512348_10206181947967938_6088364209707407907_n.jpg

 

 

NAMING AS IS

imgresI remember when I doubted myself, when I thought there is no way the abuse happened to me. Perhaps I remember wrong or the feelings are causing me to over react. It couldn’t have been all that bad, I am still here after all.  I would say to my first counselor, “Why do you believe me?” 

Looking back I realize now how much I was living my past. My reactions to things that others took as normal were always so on edge or set me to panicking. I had triggers everywhere it seemed. One doesn’t get that way without reason.

So, i would face those triggers once i recognized them, head on. I would slowly build my ability to do things i couldn’t by pushing myself. Wear a scarf around my next totally loose til eventually I could tie it, finally have it close to my neck. Wear it for it’s purpose without thinking and feeling and remembering the abuse.

Long road this is, still fighting the battle is some areas. Healing is that way, a process, one that may never be done this side of eternity. Such is the molding and healing of our Lord, all good, all to His glory, all in His perfect timing.

The last few days I have been finding myself on a new path of healing. My mind being opened to perceiving things differently, with more of a focus on the truth of my past.

I often feel, yes, I lived it. I don’t doubt that anymore but I think I am unaware at times what I lived. The true depth of it, the truth of my existence, the substance of it.

You see, some one has made a few comments that have given me pause. Mentioned how I how much I have suffered, used the word brutal to describe my childhood.

images

When they said this it got me to thinking, wondering what does that word actually mean, especially in relation to me. I didn’t like what I found.

bru·tal
ˈbro͞odl/
adjective

I looked at each of these words and thought, “Does this fit, Lord?” He to prompt me to say this out loud, “My childhood was savage, my childhood was cruel and vicious, etc.”

I said them, all the way through, crying. Gentle tears of accepting the truth that it was. I asked Papa why I needed to admit this to myself? Why can’t I just say it was hard and uncomfortable?

He answered me, as He always does.

imagesIt’s simple really, not the process, but the reason. How can I say I have given all my pain and suffering to my Lord if I don’t claim it to yield it.? I can’t. Just as the path to Calvary is seen in all it’s pain and suffering that we truly understand so must my abuse be for me.

So I have been sitting with the emotions these words awake. Sitting with god and yielding them to Him. In the process I am finding my gratitude to Him is swelling as well. His powerful touch of healing on me and in my life even greater than I fathomed.

My childhood was brutal,

Yet, so was my Lord’s crucifixtion..

and…

look at How God uses that!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NEW YEARS EVE ALONE

 

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2016 found us last evening.

I spent mine home, alone.

Away from partying and celebrating, no other person around.

No televised broadcasts of dropping this or that, no cheering or reveling.

I quietly saw it pass and loved doing so.

Reveled in the contentment I experienced in being by meself.

This is a bit of a miracle for me, a sure sign of healing.

Holidays always are a challenge, in one form or another. Some to be triggers to abuse gone by or remind me of how alone I was. Oft I would find jealousy knocking much as Scrooge did watching Tiny Tim’s family through the window.

New Years Eve saw me not even giving this a thought beyond to be thankful to my Lord that He has healed me so much that it is natural to live in thankfulness, to see the beauty of what is now as it literally obliverates then from my heart.

I enjoyed a quiet night home, doing things i find relaxing and bringing in the New Year just the right way for me.

New Years Eve alone, a precious, cherished memory.

 

New Years Eve alone, that I experience contentment with self, celebrate the joy of life in Christ and come to understand that I do belong, I am loved and I am someone too.

Happy New Years to me and to all of you.    10300270_1157000294333585_4966049140887631755_n

 

THE VALLEY OF THE LULL

k

 lull

2:  to cause to relax vigilance <were lulled into a false sense of security>

MORE THAN JUST PRAYING

Hands crossed in prayer

Male hands crossed for prayer in dark

This is an article I came across that is so full of truth for healing. How oft I went to my church in the wee hours of the morning to pray, throw myself upon the altar, before my Lord. Oft to simply weep in the beginning, for I could do no more. There were no words for the horrors awakening within my memory. No sense to the flashbacks hounding me, nothing I felt I could do to help myself.

That was the key, I had to realize, that I couldn’t help myself. I needed my Savior, I needed to do more that plead with Him to take it away, to make me all alright.

My morning ritual to become more than my pleading as I faced the dark and pain of the abuse memories draped in prayer, reading the Word and journaling. Sharing with my pastor and friend, ones who I new I was safe with.

Almost every morning for three years found me here. And the road didn’t end there, the healing is still a work in progress. Still requires me to stay active, be involved in my progress. Stay true to me.

Such is all of life, really. Eating and sleeping, working and friendship, the day to day doings of existence.

Life is not passive, so why do we oft thank healing is?Because it is an uphill journey. But, remember once you reach the top the view is amazing.

I know, for I stand atop my Mountain of God’s healing even now.

Won’t you join me?

http://www.iamsecond.com/2015/12/why-you-need-to-do-more-than-just-pray-about-your-problems/

 

“I AM ME”

This is an article from Committedtofreedom.org I rarely repost something from someone, but this so slammed into me when I read it, I simply had to share! So much me is in it. Simply read and be impacted. God bless.

The Still Photograph
Part of our Short Story series during the holidays. We all need a break, and this month, we’ll be sending you short stories instead of articles. We hope they will inspire, encourage, and strengthen you. Let us know what you think.
Mrs. Periwinkle had cornered yet another member of the Community Ladies Guild to show off her daughter’s latest school pictures.
“Isn’t she adorable? Isn’t this just about the most precious picture you’ve ever seen?”
She never gave anyone time to respond to those questions, she simply moved on to another person, then another, loudly declaring the perfection of the photograph. Her daughter, Penelope, was a kindergartener when that particular picture was taken.
Mrs. Periwinkle loved it so much that she had it enlarged, then had several dozen copies of the photo developed. She glued some onto cardboard boxes, which she positioned throughout the house. One was set on the kitchen table at Penelope’s place. One on her pillow where she usually slept. One on the couch, one on the porch swing, and one in the passenger seat of the family car.
She also glued a flat wooden stir stick on the back of one so that she could carry it with her where ever she went. It was a kind of photograph puppet.  In social settings – such as parties or meetings – she included the picture puppet in conversations and soon, people spoke to the puppet, just like Mrs. Periwinkle did.
She even made one of the pictures into a mask and commanded that the little girl wear it at all times. Eventually, Penelope stopped speaking and became as silent as the still photos that surrounded her.
As children will do, the girl grew and changed, but the only “Penelope” her mother and friends saw was the kindergarten schoolgirl in the pictures mounted on boxes, a wooden stick, and a mask. Years came and went. The kindergarten photographs had become cracked, faded, and frayed. Nevertheless, Mrs. Periwinkle ignored the signs that time had passed or that changes were taking place.
One morning, Penelope – who was now a young woman – looked at her mask’s reflection in the bathroom mirror. For quite some time, she had noticed a growing irritation where the mask rubbed against her skin, but she ignored it. But this particular morning, the irritation had become very painful – unbearably painful, in fact. She squirmed her forehead, tightened her eyes and lips, scrunched her nose, and massaged her scalp, hoping to silence the inflammation, but nothing helped.
She became more animated in attempt to find some relief and without thinking, without hearing her mother’s instructions to keep the mask on, she ripped it off on an impulse. She howled with relief, as her face was flooded with air and light. For the first time in over a decade, Penelope wore no mask. No longer was she frozen in a time and space that was no more. She splashed her face with water and then dared to look in the mirror. What she saw took her breath away, because she saw – herself. Changed.
No longer a static being, she was vital and free from that still photo that masked years of growing and becoming. She ran into the kitchen and ripped the still photo from the box, then to her pillow and the couch, the porch swing and the passenger side of her mother’s car. She tore them all to pieces then put them in the trash can.
Somewhere in the yard, she could hear her mother chatting away with someone. Her voice grew louder as she came closer to the house. Closer. Closer. Penelope opened the front door for her mother, who was – at that moment – having a lively conversation with the picture puppet. Mrs. Periwinkle gasped, shocked to see a strange young woman standing in her foyer.
“What are you doing in my house? Who ARE you?” she demanded.
Penelope grabbed the picture puppet from her mother’s hand and tore it to pieces, letting them fall to the floor. She then leaned in close to her mother until their faces almost touched.
“I. Am. Me.”

MISSING THEM

imagesMissing them, my family, is what I am feeling tonight.

It’s new in a way. to miss someone being here for just that, is what I am thinking it is.

I have missed my children as they have left the nest, missed caring for them and their being a part of my life.

But this is different. I don’t know that I have felt this before.

imagesI have missed friends and counselors because of needs I felt I had.

I don’t know what to do with this feeling.

I feel a bit loss in how to process it.

Maybe I am finding loneliness, alone was always what I sought, it was safe.

Now I am finding I wish they were back when they just left.

It was nice to be with people, family, who saw me and my needs, even wants the same as I saw theirs.

Who accept me, as me

96c2549e01ffb194cdcc84d8b1f6aa85To be together sharing, sitting quiet, eating and laughing.

Existing in peace and connected.

I miss my aunt and cousin who spent the week with me.

I am finding a deeper longing to have people visit me.

Just because.

images

I am thinking this has been building for awhile as I have been creating friendships more.

The kind where the flow goes both ways

I am more aware of how I enjoy someones presence

imagesI notice the silence

Wish for the visits

Feel disappointed when they don’t happen

 

I am missing them

But also realize it’s ok

imagesI can cry just a bit about it

Cause that’s what disappointment is

But then I can do something about it too

Be better about staying in touch

Cherish and pull out the together times past memories

I like missing them too on one level

missing-someone-gets-easier-love-quotes-sayings-pictures-375x195

It is nice to have whole memories of times with family

Ones I want

Ones I can keep

Ones that are smiling kind

I like this

Lots

So in the end

The missing them is worth it

I would rather miss them

Then not have been with them

Thank you to all my Missing Thems

You know who you are ❤