44621_1553498846236_758440_nI was thinking about my kids recently… the little things I taught them, those that every child needs to learn…. specifically tying shoes.

It is odd sometimes, the memories of our children. I mostly remember happenings and loving them, that I feel so strongly. How I loved them to bits, always. no matter.

I smile at that, how can you not love your child. I know I never could not do so, it leaves me in wonder really when thinking of mine. But that is for another day, perhaps only my, “I am home Papa, God” day.

I diverse.

ccMy thought was tying shoes, the teaching of that to our children. Mine were pretty old til they learned it since back then velcro was all the rave. slip in your foot, pull it tight and press it over… ta-da! Shoe on without all that bunny ear twisting exasperation. Yet, in the end they still needed to learn to tie their shoes, laces are out there on all the coolest ones. Nike and all that.

Tying shoes, no matter the age learned required teaching. The child all the more impatient to learn it the older they are. Not wanting help, thinking they know it all and them so impatient with their teacher while the one do the teaching is the one really being beyond patient.

I learned to tie my shoes this week, well, in a metaphor sort of way.

I realized how I was that child, full of “I know, I can do it, I don’t need your help”

I wasn’t really feeling it that way, though I am sure I came across in just such a way. This saddens me.

Here is what happened…

My car was in the shop, so getting back and forth to work was a day-to-day find a ride. Once my friends thought about that they offered me their spare car to use and even brought it to my job that night at close. As we were getting ready to leave, my one friend said, “Come on, let us show you how to use the car.”  I responded, “Do I walk it instead of drive it?” Humor, my great deflect at times, something else I realized only now as I write.

Once outside, her husband says, “Let me show you how to start it,” I to deflect again. Thanking them I hopped into the car and headed home. As I am driving I go to put the window down and there is no handle… no button on the door… no way that I can see to do so. I thought, “I should have let them show me about the car.” Then Abba woke me up to this… needing help is ok, accepting assistance is good, people are here to help each other in lots of ways. You, my child, are fearful of help. You have only had wrong help as a child from your father and no help from your mother. Open your eyes and ears, your heart to people. You are home now, safe and loved, secure. Help is just that, help. Even when you know, or think you know, do not deprive the other from being generous and giving to you. Learn to receive without defending and being all that. I, God, am your all that. ”

So I humbly accept, I gladly yield to let go.

I am so tired of late, I expect to much of myself at times…

No more.

Today I shall put into practice what Abba is teaching me,

I shall ask for help when needed, stand tall when needed and not be afraid.

My independence I yield to dependence on God,

I shall still love and serve others, I can do no less, but in my giving

I too shall receive. th

Thank you Abba and Momma Mary for showing me this.




Could we with ink the ocean fill, And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill, And every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above, Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.


I thought about the title for this writing awhile, which is unusual for me. I even pondered what God was calling me to say, which is even more unusual. Yet, what He is telling me to share is so very special that it begs such.

His not mine, Him not me.

This is what is on my heart.

Something I have known in the words to have experienced in real-time yesterday.

His love, not mine.

Him in control, not me.

A lifeline of sorts to my emotions, to understanding the current mountain before me, to finding the pathway up

It feels like I have been stumbling around so much of late, allowing the smallest pebble to be this giant boulder stopping me in maturing with my Papa, as He wants me to.

Then yesterday someone shared something with me and oh how Abba used that

“Let love lead,” they said. “Just as you did with your children when raising them, love overcame the handicap of your childhood abuse, of having never been parented yourself. Allow love to help you now, follow it.”

Trust me, this was the last thing I wanted to do. My flesh preferring to cling to the emotions I felt I had found and had a right to… anger fueled, selfish “buts,” full of, “This person did this, that wasn’t fair,” and please pity me whining.

Yet, truth was in these thoughts my friend shared, and one thing this journey has taught me is that truth is worth pursuing not only to know, but to do… the rewards to far out weigh the cost.

Really, the cost is usually about me anyhow, my eyes on self making a mountain out of a molehill.

So God helped me as I determined to love, through His power and indwelling with in me.

“God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us.”  Ephesians 3:20 (MSG)

Love when I felt wronged, love when it seemed too much, simply love, His love to flow through me not mine.

Godly love with a selfless giving, one that looked at the other and desired God’s graces poured out on the situation, His everything to flow…

thHis words, not mine….

His perspective, not mine…

His patience and peace…

His everything..


I changed, overnight it feels, in the giving selflessly in obedience…  He has given me so much,

His peace is what I feel even as I think on that which caused so much distress yesterday and many weeks leading up to it.


Makes sense really,

for I am…

His, not my own.

I am, Tammy Anne of God.

Oh, love of God, how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure—
The saints’ and angels’ song.

                                                               Verse 3 was penciled on the wall of a narrow room in an American insane asylum by a man said to have been demented.                                                                  The profound lines were discovered when they laid him in his coffin.



I have been thinking about my Daddy a lot lately.

You see, when I went to confession recently, I shared that I am having trouble praying for him, with a sincere heart. Of course, my penance was to do just that. I should have seen that one coming, how fitting.

So I made the effort to at least say the words, to ask God to draw my daddy to Him, that he would be sorry. I told my Abba that I was sorry for not wanting my daddy to be forgiven, for harboring the pain and anger of the abuse. It still isn’t easy but I know my Father, God, rejoices in my act of obedience. I leave the rest with Him. I may never feel it this side of eternity, but that’s ok, as long as I allow God to take the shrapnel still with in me.

He started doing just that this morning at Mass.

How the tears rolled.

I felt such shame for the using of me as but a babe, I felt guilty that as a toddler I was so willing to go to him. I wondered that I used to thing, “At least daddy jjjloves me some and makes me feel better. Mama doesn’t love me at all.”

How messed up they made me, twisted in the emotions. How confused I felt all this week in my feelings, the memories making me feel I was wrong.

Today it hit me.

Today the wrong flipped right.

Today my Jesus said to me, “Watch and listen, this is love.”

As our Priest held loft the Bread, the Body of my Jesus, Christ whispered to me, “True love is giving, not taking. Your daddy took from you for his want, I wanted for you so gave of myself. Your daddy broke you whereas I, your heavenly King, was broken to save you. Accept my brokenness that it heal your little you’s feeling that way.”

How my heart broke at such words of grace and compassion, my true Father to forgive me for remembering wrong as right as He loved me right.

Yet, He wasn’t done, no, there was still the Wine, the Blood of my Lord.

His blood spilled for me, not mine this time, no bruising and beating, no pain for me. No, He took it all. How I felt aligned to Him in His suffering. How my endured draws me into His, how great His sacrifice.

Who am I that my Lord should love me so…                                     10264276_334572856700614_1819941877732657238_n

Who am I that He forgives me and heals me so gently….

Who am i?


I am His, so I yield all this to Him.

I am my Papa, God’s daughter, loved and safe.

I am forgiven how can I give no less.?

I am loved how can I not love?

Blessed is the Lord, blessed am I to be His.                hhh

He is my Daddy.   His love makes it all alright.




I love the 10 commandments.

I do, really.

I know lots of folks see them as roadblocks or binding them in some constrictive way… but for me they point the way. My signposts, gifted to me of Abba, or I surely would become lost. How confounding it can be at times to scale this mountain of abuse, break down the walls that were created by it to allow the truth to shine through. Right and wrong jumbled like this…

Alex_Grey_Metamorphosis The Ten Commandments of God (short form)

  1. You shall have no other gods before Me.
  2. You shall not make idols.
  3. You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain.
  4. Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.
  5. Honor your father and your mother.
  6. You shall not murder.
  7. You shall not commit adultery.
  8. You shall not steal.
  9. You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.
  10. You shall not covet.

469189_212803908838970_2090246521_oThe Ten Commandments of Abuse (abusers taught form)

1. You shall have no other god than your abuser

2. You shall make me your all, your idol

3. You shall not speak of this to anyone, ruining my name and reputation

4.  Remember all your days are mine, I come first

5.  Honor me alone

6.  You shall murder yourself, inside and out, for me

7.  You are mine alone and whose I deem, no one else is to touch you

8.  You shall steal if I say so

9.  You shall tell no one, that would be a lie, you aren’t abused, I am loving you.

10. You don’t want what others have, you are loved better and more completely



The 10 Commandments

One all about truth and truly being set free.

Abba’s ones are a gift to us, to show us how to live in this world while here.

They to help us stay on our journey towards heaven, home to Him.

One’s where He is asking no more than He hasn’t already given or knows is good for us.


The 10 Commandments (for abuse survivors)

1. Keep me first as I did you on the cross, I will show you how love is meant to be.                                               girls-hands-tied560x365

2. My eyes are always upon you, are yours Me? Remove them from then to now, from pain to gain.

3. I respect you, value you, show the same of Me by honoring my name and presence, don’t speak ill of me, I am always here to hear. Be angry at the sin visited upon you, by the sinner, not Me the Creator. Free will is free will for all. It saddens me when humanity chooses sin, I did now wish this upon you. I was there bearing it with you being broken again as well, I cried with you and felt your pain.

4. I give every moment of my days to you, as you serve me, remember to give one day to the renewing of your soul by putting me first, partaking of the gift of me that this provides in the Eucharist

5. I created you from the beginning, as I have all mankind, honor that if nothing else in everyone. Pray for all to find my love and salvation by taking your eyes off of your abuse endured and placing them on Mine I traveled for you. I understand, I have been there. It is why I journeyed through life from birth to death.  An easier path would have not involved experiencing life, but I and my Father desired that we “know.” We do, so give it to us.

6. Murder no one, not just in the killing of the body, the taking of life breathed into them but also guard yourself that you do not slay their spirit, enthusiasm 10-commandmentsand zest for life and service to me, no matter where they may be in their mountain journey.

7. Love as I love, keeping the love I place in your life first, before even yourself. Be content in that love and selfless, thus your love stays pure. This is true of those called to the sacrament of marriage, priesthood, singleness. Walk with your hand in mine in the love I am teaching you.

8. Don’t take from others, ever, anything. Look upon what was taken from you and ponder how that has affected you. Do not wish this upon another, do not be party to such. Steal not anything, not just touchable but the untouchable as well. Do not rob them of lessons being learned, of finding forgiveness, of growing. Above all do not steal their forgiving themselves by withholding your forgiving them.

9. Yes, what happened to you is truth that needs to be faced. Yes, your abusers need to hear from you that you remember along with your forgiveness. Yet, remember not to cast stones. Sin is sin and free will is free will. Hold their sin not against them as I don’t yours against you. Forgive to free yourself of unnecessarily speaking of it out of anger or spite. Leave the judging to God that you speak only what He tells you too of your abuser.

10. Covet not. I will replenish you of all that was stolen. Turn to me to find the brother love that was betrayed you. Allow my Father, your Father, God, to be to you the security yours did not provide. Give your fears and abuse to Him. Allow my Mother, Mary who so desires to be yours as well, to be just that. Rest in her arms and let her love you. I gave her to you when I hung upon the cross, as she has loved Me she desires to you. All those who have served me before are yours for we are the family of God. You belong, let go of the had nots of the abuse to be free to embrace the haves now I shall shower upon you.

These are The 10 Commandments I look upon when my abuse memories come knocking.triggerzone1 The truth to be spoken to myself that I continue to heal. No, I don’t feel them at times, but truth isn’t feeling. It is fact, and the fact of the matter here is that abuse is built on nothing but lies, ones that became our truth in that they were all we lived.

Sometimes when I think of doing something and that training kicks in to whisper, “It’s ok, it’s not really a big deal, everyone does it,” I have to speak the true commandment out loud to myself. It feels weird at times that something I know to be wrong doesn’t feel wrong. This has bothered me for awhile, then today, Abba showed me a new perspective on it. Allow Him to use this to move me beyond triggers and memories unwanted as He gives me new ones.

I am a child, His.

Children learn over time.

Repetitive teaching done in love, firmness and consistency

I had none of this in truth

Only abuse


It’s okay

As I speak truth to my me again and againSt_Ann203

Much as a mother reminds her child often in training

I shall come to feel

Right from wrong

For now I will look heavenward

While sitting upon my Mama Mary’s lap, perhaps with Grandma Anne near by, as she hushes me gently that…

St. Ann Picture

I hear my Papa, Gods, teachings…

My brother, Jesus, having set gone before, an example to follow…

A reunion of sorts, now…

That one day will be happening in heaven

With all my family of Saints around…

One I plan not to miss.




Abuse has no place with God or in Heaven

So it has no place with me or healing,

With you either,

Or now…

For now is Gods.






I woke up hidden today

A step backwards some would say

Not I

Not my Abba, either

Not that it couldn’t be

It could




Yet, only if  I


to allow the enemy to use it so

Free to choose

How I move forward in the waking



Will I be full of fear that I found myself here?

Will I panic and yield my day to chaos in the process?

Will I make more of it than need be?

I could

IMG_2502-1                                                                                                                                          I used to…   Oh, so easily


I won’t

My Father, God, won’t let me… If I choose Him


I do

For He has chosen me

Since forever

He will bind up my enemy

He is setting me free

His peace to settle me

His love to envelop me

His presence felt

He forgives my frailty, for He understands

Simplified man from point to point

He embraced humanity, that He would


He uses my hiding instead

To show me

How far He has brought me

For in this hiding

I know where I am

He keeps me,  me

For I am His

He alone

My hiding place







 (This is a picture of a rock my daughter noticed at the bottom of the waterfall in Hawaii, seemingly put there by God for to the two of us)

“And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground,

and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.”

Genesis 2:7 (KJV)

It is odd sometimes, the scars I find myself carrying from my abuse. I will look upon them, wonderingly. Confounded at how complicated they are, how they have healed yet with so much scar tissue at times. I pass over them emotionally, spiritually or physically in wonder… the kind that asks oneself, why?

Why do they look so ugly?

Why do they feel so huge?

Why, why and why?

I once saw a Twilight Zone movie, from back in the day, that was about a women who kept having face surgery to “correct” her disorder. She wanted to “look like everyone else.” The twist was that most people in the show were ugly, she beautiful. But society saw things the opposite when it came to loveliness, so she was influenced that way. In the end, she found people as “ugly” as her and was taken in by them.

I feel this way at times.

Not in relation to others, rather myself. I look at the things I have to relearn, sometimes even learn for the first time, and wonder why it is so hard. I think, “I am different, I don’t understand, I am weary of trying, does it really matter? Is it really worth it?

Then Abba gifts me with the end of the search, or a taste of what is to come, and I KNOW, “YES IT IS!”

Resting is this way for me, seems I have been trying to understand the meaning of it for since forever! I thought I knew it, was sure I rested… after all, I had been getting full nights of sleep with no flashbacks or nightmares.

Yet, I would find myself so weary and worn day after day. My friend would tell me that, “You still aren’t resting.” I wanted to scream sometimes, “Yes, I am!” She was making no sense at all.

Then one day I started to get it, I had a day of leisure, doing some things I enjoy. I slept well that night and then the next day was different. I was different in how I felt, more calm and secure, peaceful physically in the same way Abba gives me spiritually.

What a new feeling this was for me!


I found I really, really liked it.

I wanted MORE!

I remember texting my friend, “I think resting is more than sleeping.” She, of course, to reply… yes it is,” as she explained.

So now I had the head knowledge tied to a bit of experience, my Father, God’s, glimpse to show me this healing journey up the mountain of rest would have its reward.

After all, rest is sweetest when earned.

That is the second part I came to understand.

A gift from my son without his even knowing it. One that came my way as a blessing from his learning to hear and heed God’s promptings.

You see, he lives in Hawaii, and he felt led to send his Mom a ticket.

So off I went, excited to spend time with him and his wife, as well as my other daughter who lives there.

I was so happy to see them, it had been so long for these Momma arms being empty of them. I was content to sit at home with them, just be in their presence and soak up their voices, faces, them.10407544_10204129548387792_9102935486297129041_n

My son, however, had other plans.

10411965_329865570504676_8527019644367235583_nHis own mission to show his mother that life is out there, that Hawaii is the handiwork of the Creator and worth the effort of hiking up mountains, kayaking the great blue ocean and snorkeling to the depths of the crystal blueness of it. We watched the sunrise with turtles, played in waterfalls and visited ruins. We went to church together, I to meet their O’hana, hear him preach and spend time in prayer with him at the altar. Each day we laughed and talked, goofed off and simply lived.

I don’t think I have ever truly done that before.

Full days that were wonderful, yet, I felt so rested at the end of them. So full of having lived and felt good for doing so.

 10341684_10204099627359785_5596163897082503779_n          10339663_10204099632519914_5187086645211589758_n         10402619_10204099637600041_7304311157893089637_n        10363535_10204099654480463_3969430593340144882_n

I learned to rest on this trip, to truly understand that it is ok to do things for fun, to spend time and money on me, to care for myself. I can push my body to achieve, spoil it from time to time and pamper myself. It is right to care for me, to love me and to want good things for myself. I can diet to show God I care for this vessel He has blessed me with that I may serve Him, while loving it just as it is.This is not the selfishness I was told it is during my abuse, it is not wrong and I am not lazy.  I needn’t be judgemental of myself for simply letting go and living.

God breathed the “breath of life” into me after all, just as He does all of His children. He didn’t do so that I be a robot, set on auto pilot, as I was to survive.

No, He did so that I embrace the world He has so generously created for me. He desires I find rest in Him, and creation is His.

It is odd, this feeling, I am not wearing it quite right yet, but it will come in time.  Just as my Papa, God, taught me to rest spiritually He is doing so emotionally and physically.

There is a whole world out there, beckoning.

10339547_10204099654520464_6734515703498675359_nI am excited to find it.

I am thankful God is waking me up,

Shedding me of past…

As present is before me, now.

I rise from my bed, awake…

To find my rest each day,

in Him and His plans for me.


Thankful for the discovery of this gift of rest.


body 2Wow, I haven’t posted a blog in a very long time.

Gone is how I feel the writing has been for a while, but it’s ok because i have been on a journey of finding me. It seems that is what it is all about in the end.

As a child I was lost even to myself, the world around me didn’t exist, I survived on a plane of my own creating. A parallel universe so to speak, now? Oh how the world around me beckons!

I have had color for a while, been able to see beyond the black of my then. The darkness of existence that seemed to swallow up my childhood. Thing is this color has been a spiritual one, the feeling of God’s presence and the wonder of the graces He has gifted to me. Faith and hope, peace and love, patience.

Yet, He designed us to experience this as humans as well. What I mean is this, ” I am finding the body I live in.” I am waking up to me, to the feeling of touch upon my skin with no fear of what it may bring. Rather, I see it as the beautiful rainbow it awakens with in me. It feels like I am one huge electrical current and the wires are many, they twirl in and around every bone as they course through me bringing life back to me. No more blocking touch, denying my heart or wrong reactions to good and safe. This is what I am learning about me.

Oh, I know I shall still get it wrong so much, it takes time te relearn, but… relearning I am. How gracious is my God to give me the opportunities to build lasting friendships, to place me in a ministry to serve Him among other survivors, and heal the relationships with my children.

I am blessed beyond measure to write, to shout to the world of what was not being what is. Of hope and healing, cleansing and wholeness, life.

Me unto more and more and more…

I stand here typing even now, marvelling at the sensation of feeling my legs all the way to my tippy toes, the keys of my computer smooth and there. Sounds weird, I know, yet if you have been abused as I was it isn’t so odd. To numb oneself is to bear, so it seemed in the abuse, yet so much was lost.

No more…. for me unto me…. is found

I am me, my body is mine, my heart my Abba’s….

my future glorious.

How wonderfully I am made.

Psalm 139:13-16 (MSG)

Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out; you formed me in my mother’s womb.

I thank you, High God—you’re breathtaking! Body and soul, I am marvelously made!    

 I worship in adoration—what a creation! You know me inside and out,     

you know every bone in my body; You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,     

how I was sculpted from nothing into something.

Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth;     

all the stages of my life were spread out before you,

The days of my life all prepared before I’d even lived one day.



my worlds collide within me



one after the other

with a force that awakens

the scatterdness


my thens existence



i watch

no more empty



i stand

as the vortex

swirls round and round



i watch

happenings of now

to feel them

imagessurges upon surges

shocking me




courses through me



and again

yet still again

imageson this journey


one that is


for a while

as God awakens me


this vortex has always been

it is no stranger

to i



my heart is open

as i stand still

in faith


to strike


find me

right and good


safe and whole

imagesswirling only

in their newfoundness


in the experiencing


between ok

for it is my path

to now

my bridge

of loveimages




John 3:30 (KJV)
“He must increase, but I must decrease.”

kHow I am on a journey of sorts these days, one that is taking place within me. I am so shattered in ways unimaginable from my abuse. There are times even I find this brokenness to be more than I can fathom. It is like I just want to swipe and scatter all the pieces in my frustration, be done and simply allow the cracks my spirit carries. I am finding so much anger and weariness, like a residue of radiation left upon me. The atoms of the abuse endured exploding within me when actions and words now experienced literally ignite my heart of then.

These triggers, awaken me, the part of me that was brought forth to fight. My knight in shiny armor who is indifferent to the attack. She who stands tall imgresand confident, sword swinging wildly in defense. A part of me that I am proud of for having in that survival was her game. My strong warrior within, who deserves medal upon medal for the wars fought and won. Yes won, for though many battles left us lying flat on our backs, we survived.

So, today I wish to honor my Conquistador. I desire to share with you this story of a soldier who is journeying home. A travelling back to her childhood existence that was denied her, to find the peace and all that was meant to be…  that wasn’t then, is now.

Her name is i, a part of me denied in my abuse, the part of me being yielded to God these days that I be whole.


How I see myself then at times, through the lens of this part of me, my Commander-in-Chief back then. i am beautiful in my fierceness to defend myself, so unaware of how small i am. i wore my fortitude as a blind fold to all endured. i carried the weight both literal and internally of the raping. I am proud of my strength. And I should be in one sense. i endured, i bore the pain and anguish, i survived despite it, i, i, i.

This is my downfall even while it is truth.

My i is my sin, that which stands between letting go of the anger that truly fed my survival. Yes, an anger that a had all right to feel, a loathing that was the bed of my abuse. As that child the depth of my horror endured was more than i could bear so this anger and indifference became my hiding ground.images

So i am journeying home to me, that the truth of i of then find the truth of I of now.

Healing is hard, this journey stealing from me as i travel. I am physically weary and worn. The thing is, it is the nature of healing, one must traverse from ill to well. Follow the doctors orders and care for one self.

So I desire to have happen, finally. For my Doctor God is showing all of me, us, this. i must yield the anger, cast it out for it really was never mine to claim. The hurt and pain, the weight remembered are but memories. Little tammy of 7 knew no different for she was made to bear it, but now I am all grown up… in so many ways.

So, dearest little me I invite you home. Come with me as we visit our Papa, God. He happens to be the Greatest Physician of all time among so many other things. Lets us together turn our backs on the past lies and enter the door of truth that is our Father’s Home. We have so much here.


We belong to a Mama who is loving and smiles at us with her eyes even, her embrace ours whenever we need or want it, our Lord’s Mama shared. She always throws her arms wide when she sees us, draws us close and welcomes us. We have a brother Joseph who dotes on us, is on guard to keep us safe. Then there is our Jesus, our salvation. Our family of God.

jHand in hand, I see my past i and my present I coming together. Yielding the i of sin borne to the I of the cross now.

I thank God for His having shattered my shackles of then, for helping me to see i am innocent of my then. The sin was others and isn’t mine to claim. I can yield it, call forth the power of Christ’s sacrificial blood to cast it from me. He to be the judge some day of all lived against me. i do deserve a medal, He has told me, He is presenting me even now with it

I shall wear it proudly with a right heart now,

for i know I am my Father’s princess

She of the Purple Heart.          images



ss     6a0147e2c133c1970b019b01ea4fc9970d-800wi


How I feel my healing these days tied to blankets. I don’t really know why, perhaps it is part of my past abuse perhaps it is no more than a visual perception, doesn’t really matter why. No, what does is that I follow this awakening with God, allow Him to use it to further my healing.


I am struggling with this one a bit of late, sometimes i feel so twisted up in this word, literally to awaken with an urge I can’t resist… one to fling the blankets froml me in panic. They to feel like a weight that brings a memory unwanted. It isn’t panic for say more of a sheer panick. I just want to jump from my bed and find a corner to curl up within myself. How easy this would be physically, to allow my body to do just that.

How complicated this would make my healing.

I would be free of the BLANKETS, but in doing so I would find myself wrapped rather in the abuse memory. I would lose myself to then and become twisted within my then lost to my now.


Other times I awaken to a desire to pull them close, to snuggle beneath them as I smile and relish the safety and warmth they hold. Melt into the comfort of a bed on a cold night, clouds of pillows beneath my head, I safe and warm, inside.


Each of my children have a blanket, their eyi-eyi, as they called them. The one that they would hold close and snuggle, as they literally loved it. Yet, it wasn’t the blanket they really loved, no, rather the memories linked to it. This to be the first thing I wrapped them in as we left the hospital, used to tuck them in night after night that they settle for no other. An object that symbolized comfort and holding, love.


So, my waking makes sense. My desire to run even. For as much as I hated sleeping out in the cold I also hated beds. The one to leave me blanketless as the other wrapped me in using. Either I had no blanket or I had ones I didn’t want.




I share this because I want you to know that it is ok to remember. It may feel like we are then when we are now, as long as we focus on the fact that we aren’t, remember only long enough to yield it to God. Cry out His name when times like this hit, that He replace what your fear is.



When this hits of late, when all of me wants to fling the blankets far and even go outside to find safety I implore my Lord to be my Blanket. To cover me in the imagessafety that is mine now, wrap me tight in memories of love present and swaddle me in His truth. Keep me present in all things as He frees the past.


running and hiding feels like it is the easiest thing to do, going back in my memories easier than pushing forward. But that would be like of old, it would leave me cold and desolate. The cold embraced in the freedom it brought me from the bed only to leave me shivering and alone. Not a good choice at all.


I must choose.         


Do I truly want to hang on to my ratty, tattered blanket of then?



Or, find the Blankie God desires to wrap me in.




I choose now, by His power and with His help. I choose to cling to present when past comes knocking. I do cast aside the blanket of then, it nothing but a tattered and smelly thing. Trash.


As I pull my Christmas blanket gifted to me, close, I close my eyes and snuggle down in with Papa’s arms wrapped around me.


How I see the tapestry of the Blankie, my eyi-eyi, He is patching together just for me. Each piece, a fabric of the material, used in my healing. Names stitched upon some, pictures upon others. Letters used to spell out the truth of His word, those that have awoken me spiritually.

my BLANKET of COLOR…                                     FearNot-CANVAS_original

COLOR lived NOW…