THIEVING

                                                                                                                           But he said to me,                                                                                                                                                                                                       “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”                                                                                                                                                      Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses,                                                                                                                                                                                     so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.                                                                                                                                                                                                                            2 Corinthians 12:9 ESV

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This morning I woke up feeling lost and alone. Trickles to slowly track their way out of the corners of my eyes and pool in stains upon my pillow.

I don’t panic anymore, when I wake up with feelings, they are what they are but I am only what I allow them to make of me.

I laid here awhile with Abba, just letting the trickle flow, no more hiding allowed, holding in only creates pressure til I blow.

I am tired of blowing up.

dAbba is showing me how these trickles are release, how they can flow from me, collected of Him and become this stream of healing waters. He shows me how I can lie within them and rest, not worry about their source as He purifies them. The frozen icecaps of emotions denied, bound up and locked away melting to be these crystal clear waters of now.

Now

This is where He has me, showing me and teaching me that I am His now girl.

The tears and running still now as I say this, for He is showing me this morning that I have been a thief.

Thieving to survive much like a child on the streets of Calcutta does

Mine to be an emotional thieving

You see I can be with folks in all the wrong ways, past ones.

I want family and I can pretend others is mine

I crave touch and I can watch someone getting a hug and draw from that to satisfy wishing it was mine

I steal smiles sent others way and pretend they passed me by on the way to them

I thieve to survive emotionally

In the end robbing myself

I have so much love in my life from not only my God, but people too

I am no longer hidden away or cast out

I am inside

So I must choose

I must break the bonds of these old habits of survival or they will rob me of now as then did so long ago

It is so hard to let go, to say I am me here I am and what you can give is sufficient

I am oh so childish in wanting so much more, all of people

Help me Abba to make You my all that I turn to you

For hugs and holding, a whisper to my heart, the twinkle of an eye upon me

I don’t want to live off of stealing anymore

Open my eyes and heart to the treasures surrounding me that are already mine

Take my eyes off of wants

Purge me of my selfish give mes

My childish perspective of need

Hold me tight

Teach me right

I yield, to You, this day…. my sin of thieving.

HOT POTATOE

Today reminded me of this childhood game, the one where you pass the “potato” round the circle because you don’t want to be the one left holding it when the music stops. If you were you were the one out of the game, everyone to yell, “Hot Potatoes!”

No fun to be the one out.

I felt out today, like I didn’t know what to do with what I was left holding.

Me.

How I felt, the feelings from an interaction with someone.

I have been holding so many “Hot Potatoes” emotionally this last week that I truly felt I would drop this one.

I cry now just remembering.

How on fire my feelings were, so alive and just here. Learning to sit with them is so hard and yet I so want to grow. I know that I must claim all of me for this to happen, I must take my turn, hold onto all of me no matter how much it sears my heart.

For in the end it cautherizes the wound a bit more. Painful healing that is needed.

“Hot Potato.”

Looking back I know things the problem being it is so hard to feel them. I know I wasn’t being reprimanded for failing rather shown an area to grow in.

Thing is knowing and feeling are so far apart sometimes for me.

I know I please this person with my performance yet I feel so like I failed. I know I didn’t, so must put the feeling aside and embrace the facts.

Pointing out areas I can grow in isn’t reprimanding, it is supporting me in growing fuller into my job. Offering advice to how I can handle something better isn’t condemnation to how I have but a sharing of personal lessons that I find my footing better.

“Hot Potato”

I think I dropped this one tonight. Allowed the feelings to win. Cried while acknowledging I was ok. So much questioning of self, fear building that I messed up. Self loathing that I didn’t remember to keep after things for better cleanliness, pity for self followed by anger.

“Hot Potato”

Worth holding onto. One to keep close that the warmth of it remind me that I have come so far, far enough to feel. Just as I have learned to find joy and embrace peace as God intended so I must the glory of what was handed to me of God today.

Allow myself to feel, all emotions, good and bad. Hard or easy, right or wrong.

A Hot Potato, that is my “Potato.”

I am out, out of then and choosing to go away.

I am in though because, of this out.

Out of wrong.

Into right.

 

 

THE OTHER SIDE OF MY HEARTBEAT

 

 

imagesMy heart, a mystery unto me all these years I have lived.

Even more so it seemed as my healing progressed.

In the beginning of this journey it seemed to be missing, just a hole where it belonged. When I would stumble upon it I to have no idea what to do with it. To hold it in my hands left me full of sorrow as I looked upon its bruised and bloody pulp. If I strived to lovingly return to self it would shock me into past. jolt me awake to all endured as a child sending me fleeing and hiding as those memories, now alive, overwhelmed me.

My hearts very aliveness to seem my greatest enemy.

To claim my heart was to find me.

How scary this was.

Little me, toddler me, child me… all rejected

Growing me, teen me unto woman me void of touch, lost of heart.

Oh it was there, within my frame for such is our created being.

Yet, in my mind’s eye, it was gone…     imgres

Endurance having replaced it, survival the flow through my veins…

How deeply I hid my heart, to save me, to save it.

Handed off from one abuse to another as it was secreted away with each.

Lies to self the oxygen needed that a fake existence emerge.

A child to cope by going away from even self.

This is the side of my heartbeat I have been traversing.

Finding bits and pieces of then as God led, pulling my heart from hiding that I feel it’s true beat. Accept the truth of its being mine as it was placed back within me. Such a painful journey as each beat coursed through me, each throb tied to an abuse, each memory a horror unto its self.

Wanting my heart back was not desired, allowing God to do so, simply because Abba always knows best, was hard and ugly work. Focusing on Calvary and the truth that Jesus experienced the same was where I stayed.

0Here also is where I was healed, here is where I found me, here is where the end began.

The wrong side of my heartbeat.

Death while living, dark in the day, cold and lonely always. Heartbeat slowed that I not exist to me.

Bit by bit I have been waking up to me, to the fact that I am now not then.

Bit by bit learning to sit still as I simply feel, beyond the memory to my being there, experiencing what was my truth of then as it woke my heart to the other side.

Now.

The right side of my heart.

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Life. Living while enduring possible for Christ is with me, His light going before me lighting even the darkest of days. Hispresence the warmth when cold blasts find my heart, His arms enough to show me I am never alone. Heartbeat to race that it seemed it would explode, He to sit with me even in this that I learn it won’t. My heart need not be hidden, it is safe to carry it within me, for He guards this as well. He desires to teach me how to do so as our hearts beat as one.

I still hear my heartbeat knocking from time to time these days. Gentle taps of  my childhood hiding. Ones that are begging their turn to be seen and heard. At first this scared me to realize what I was “hearing.”  I can feel so spent with soothing myself of the pain and using, the discarded times.

But I am learning that feelings don’t hold the power, God does. He gifted me with the ability to feel just as He did all of His creation, thus He is also teaching me what that means. How to be human and give Him the control, to turn the fear for self into compassion for others who are facing theirs. I am learning to look on others emotions gone haywire beyond the impact they have on me and feel for them instead. How great their own wrong side of their heartbeat pain must be.

Having my heart back is changing me, having Christs heart wrapped around mine transforming me, as only His power can.

I no longer panic when these heartbeats come knocking.

Rather, I invite them home.

img_1775Allow each memory its visit held in the arms of God, soothed of my Mother Mary, Christ’s Momma lovingly shared with me.

Then we say goodbye. Some to stay the side of Heaven to heal in light and love, others to come home to me that they be used of God.

Papa, God, tells us, “As a (Woman) thinketh in her heart, so she is.” Prov. 23:7 (KJV)

I am thinking now, thus my heart is too.

I am thinking whole is good, thus God is making me whole.

Whole of heart, body, soul, spirit and mind.

Whole in Christ alone

 

The right side of my heart,

His side.

 

 

FINAL PHOTO CREDIT

https://pilgrimcenter.wordpress.com/category/prayer/pilgrimages/

The church’s crypt marked the site of the fourth station where Jesus met His Mother as He carried the Cross to Calvary.

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image002I am the desert, thirsty, dry, parched

For what I know not

I feel the heats intensity

The beating down of wanting

Weighted of the longing

Sourced out

I am the desert lost within myself

North to lead south as east confounds west

Spinning compass gone haywire

Which way is right?             image004

How do I find what is needed to quench my hearts thirst?

Where am I in all of my confusion?

Or am I really quite the opposite?

Am I the dessert?

Am I so full that I am drowning?

I feel so much

I know not where to go with it

What to do

It is as being lost in a desert of an ocean

Floundering to stay afloatimage006                                                                                                                                                                   Love, the waves, crashing upon me

Storm brewing as I die of this thirst

For I know not how to open myself to the quenching of love

image008Who will love me?

Pull me from these depths

Save me

Simply show me how    image008

Life was meant to be

I understand why children need so much repeated soothing

For I am as one

Not knowing these feelings      Darkly-Satirical-Paintings-11

Alone and flooded

Drowning

Collapsing in upon myself

The sea to swallow me whole

That I lie upon its bottom          imgres

My desert returned

I have learned to forgive

I have found loves touch

Still I float

Forlorn

Forgotten

Alone

Left

Not outside

Rather inside myself          image011 image012

LET

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How this simple little word can so confound me at times.

My Momma wouldn’t let me love her, she would say, “Don’t you dare to think I care or that you are allowed. who do you think you are that anyone would want you or your love?”

My Papa wouldn’t let me alone, my older brother wouldn’t let it be.

While others, let it happen.

Let, let, letting.

I said something to someone yesterday that sat with me through out the day and night, “Thank you for letting me love you.” It doesn’t seem right in some way to say it that way, even as it makes perfect sense to my heart.

Love isn’t about letting or not letting, it is about being and not being. Being there right, not being there wrong. It is the actions visited upon us.. or not..

It is the nature of God lived out to all, of kindness and gentleness, words pondered and spoken gently even in correction.

imagesI am twisted yet with this one, I feel it. Knotted inside with gratitude and confusion all one

My small abused me to wonder why she would let me love her while the healing part of me dares to grasp at her response, “It’s easy.”

Me, Tammy, easy to love..

Loved not of Father, Mother, Brother or Husband. My love given, so fully, rebuked.

Now, here, this women of God, along with so many others past and present on my healing journey, love me.

Let me

Be a part of their lives,

Welcome my presence,

Help me, see me, hear me.

I have nothing to let happen

I needs must let, letting, go

For in the end, it is God Who allows all things to be

even for me

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so i let go…      and…      let Him

FLESHED

 

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Raw, wounded, gaping and open

That’s how I feel today

Lots of day actually of late

For my abuse has torn from me, me

I to be left oft, by the simplest word or action, naked

Perhaps my perception of this feeling is tied to when I was denied the essentials of life

Clothing to cover my nakedness

Shoes and coats full of warmth and comfort

Ligh

Love

Living

I am fleshed

My emotions worn out

As I see myself bleeding desire

Right desire

Yet

I feel so raw that that which me screams for to feel as though it would sear my flesh

A hand upon my shoulder so craved

To please just be held for awhile

Allowed to cry and be heard

The giver not minding my fleshed me

Wiling to touch the ugliness

Bandage the open wounds

Love me with heart, yes

See me with compassion, of course

Yet, mostly touch me right

For as I sit with memories of just that

I feel the growth

Flesh to come together

A child denied

Aborted outside the womb

To be recreated

Inside the womb of now

Here

With people

That fleshed she be               images

 

FLASHPOINT PARADOX

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A flashback invaded my sleep this last night. I to awaken lost to me, floundering in its rememberedness of then. Full of fear and drowning, tearless at the shear wrongness of this memory.

Flashpoint found

That which ignites

Flashbacks are so Flashpoint, always, for me

How I recall my first, the hiding it led to as fear gobbled me whole, controlled me that I ran. I driven to make myself invisible, unheard, gone. A fear intense beyond intense, full of remembered pain and suffering. It no wonder that I hid from it as a child of 6, hid to protect me and my baby brother. Yet hiding only lasts so long, can only if one wants to survive. To physically stay under the house meant no food. I recall not minding that for myself, but my brother needed to eat and was in so much pain.

images                                                                       So I crawled out, endured and his some more. Just hid in daylight, inside myself.

A hiding that followed me as I grew, becoming more than the safety net the child invented it for.

Now more of a gateway to more abuse being accepted, my growth stunted, my hiding unknown even to me.    images

Til one day, my Papa, God, knowing I was ready and strong enough in him whispered to me, “I see you, my little one, it is time to unhide, with Me.”

8c4a93083c4981b64506bb3b6dd43de9Oh how I recall those beginning days of my healing. How patient my God was with me, how just there the one He was using to help me find safety and bravery to show myself. Day after day to lead to a bit more, a peeking out to one foot across the threshold. I envision that day I finally took my first step, the barrier within only an inch crossed but behind me just te same. A doorway crossed. One that over the next few months taught the lost, beaten hands always wrong with me, that it wasn’t meant to be that way. I found arms that were merely for holding, closeness that was rest and safe. Acceptance and peace, a peace I was allowed to rest in. A door open, day or night, just for me. I blossomed in that time, grew up some in all I had missed. Learned that even when that time ended because seasons change, that the truth of that time wasn’t going away, never would.

That’s so amazing to me, even still. That I am loved, me, tammy.

I realized then that all Flashpoints needn’t claim me. I learned the way any child does, by experiencing many in the years to follow. Mistakes made but always upon always God to provide me with a someone from His people to live Him out to me. Doors opened at all hours, arms only a knock away morning after morning to send me off to school with warmth and love. I to not even remember all the times I came knocking but welcomed just the same. A hug with a sigh that was oh so sweet to hear, a breakfast shared, warmth provided when the flashback claimed my body, my coldness noticed.

Times when I would run, literally, to a friend in my confusion. Sit at her feet and cry out the not understanding of my actions or those of others.m

Welcomed when I couldn’t even remember who they were, just that they loved me. Helped to grow in the Word through study, hand-held as I grew, keeping it safe and true.

Til Abba used all of this to bring me home to where I could be kept.

Home to here. To those to help me free me inside as much as these before did me outside, that Flashpoints not send me scurrying.

You see, my flashpoints are good to happen in that they ignite reality, painful past, yes, but only to consume them. Staying in God to enable me to lose the flashback rather than me. All my family of God gone before to be the anchor of fresh memories I can turn to that I stay seen, heal a bit more.

It is a bit harder today, than sometimes. with this being a memory not found before. With me being so visual that my flashbacks are in pictures not words. This one tears my heart open and causes a cascade of tears for little me. I could so easy become lost in the stench of the water, the game taught wrong, the sheer foulness of someone doing such a thing to a mere babe.

or…

kkI can turn to now memories, reach my tiny arms up and out, just knowing that there are so many who see me in this horror, who flash eyes of God’s wrath upon the scene and reach out to lift me so gently from the water, wrap me in the softest towel of safety and hold me close. Love me right and whisper, “it is not your fault. He is the bad man, you are such a sweet, good little girl.”

They are showing me sunshine now, running and playing, that water cleans and being clean is ok. They want me to care for myself, to rest and grow, eat enough and right. They see me and accept me, teach me when I make a mistake to see it and learn, to accept I am not perfect nor need be.

They see me, so much so that hiding wouldn’t be possible even if I tried.

Know why?

Cause they see with Abba eyes, feel with Abba heart, reach out with only His goodness and leading their fuel

An Abba Flashpoint that cleanses, purifies and make it all alright

 

dream or no dream

SPIN ME THIS

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Spin Me This

 

Lies and deceit

Oh so carefully spun

Shroud me

Cloak me to hide me

That I be the one wrong

 

imgresSlithering within

And without

Wrongness

Upon their hearts and minds

Paints my me

Stains my heart

 

Am I not more

 

I am

Yet

I feel less

 

imgres

I am the calories they consume

Feeding their desires

Ravished

Exposure al I lived

Cold embraced

That it not exist

 

Fearful of light

Never the dark

imgres

I teeter

 

 

High above

Perched

Fearful and sad

Upon the tightrope

 

 

The clowns below

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Watching                    Smiles painted on                      Waiting for my fall                        Eager for it                     They will consume me                       They always do

 

 

I wake

It is but a dream

horror-photographer-joshua-hoffine-5

One lived before

Tied to now

 

Now

 

I am weary from my minds traispsing around in then

After finding my way out of now

 

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I am lonely

And hungry

For truth

 

Tears falling

 

 

 

 

 

As I am small

Before my Father, God

My Mother, Mary

I kneel

 

Reaching Homeward

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Heavenward

 

 

Hold me, please

My heart screams

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Let me feel arms around me

More than a hug

A never letting go

 

Tight

Lasting awhile

Sitting besides kind

 

Claimed to keep

Wanted just because

 

I am me   images

“TELL ME”

250px-Synesthesia.svg“Tell me” when all is naught as it should be

“Tell me” when your past comes knocking, fear of then to cinch your heart

“Tell me” how vapors rise, fogginess to lay grip on your mind

“Tell me” and fear not, for there is naught to fear here

“Tell me” that I may “Tell you”

images“Tell you” that you are safe and loved

“Tell you” that present is where you are, where you shall stay

“Tell me as I tell you” that you need not go alone, never, ever again

“Tell me” please, I long to hear, to help, to be there with you

“Tell me” that I may “Tell you” I understand

“Tell me” for I want to hear

“Tell me” in childlike faith believing

“Tell me” for I am listening to hear

“Tell me” that you too may hear

As God “Tells you” Listen for the color of life   imgres

 

Listen for Me in thengg

Hear the sound of my heart

Find the beauty of staying

Hold tight to the colors of now

“Tell me” for I and Mine are right here

and We are going no where without you

 

I CAME KNOCKING

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Yesterday was the hardest, hard beyond hard, intense to beyond bearing…

So it seemed,

Yet…

Today is here and I am too.

I can still feel it, the depth of the pain, searing my heart.

bbGod to give my heart a glimpse into the pain my sin causes Him.

It is like no other, this feeling.

How I am awakened to desire to give my God no more such pain,

It felt as though not only was my heart, broken, but it was wretched from within and trampled upon.

Forgotten as though it were nothing left to slowly stop beating as it died.

This is what I felt yesterday at Mass as I came knocking.

Little me memories to descend with a crashing clarity as I watched babies being baptized.

 

A Mother and Father drawing close together loving this child,      stock-photo-happy-words-info-text-graphics-and-arrangement-concept-on-black-background-word-clouds-89073730

Smiling at her antics, gentle and clam with her,

loving her and being patient,

simply being what parents are meant to be.

I came knocking in that toddler

I to watch her and revel in her safety and carefreeness,

astounded that she had no fear,

absorbed in watching her being smiled at and held close.

Little me came knocking…

full of that endured,

a child of 1 who knew better than to cry or even smile

she who was unwanted, uncared for, a burden

I cam knocking

But Momma Mary and Abba looked upon me just as I did that child

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They drew me close as I partook of the Eucharist

They reminded me that they love me as they held me

Picking up my bruised and battered heart

Returning it to me with words of hope and comfort

A promise that one day it would heal

In time, as I allowed them and theirs to love mem

Little me came knocking yesterday

To finally find the door open

To be welcomed home

No knocking needed.