Today is my birthday, my Saint name is Anne, and I just read that Tuesday is the day dedicated to Saint Anne. A birthday gift from Abba, I think. I am Tammy Anne of God, redeemed to a new heritage, rebirthed in light and love.
I saw the movie Unbroken today. How I found parts of it more than I could bear to watch, literally to turn away and hide my eyes as I covered my ears. This man bore so much torture and abuse, day in and day out. The knowing it was a true story is what awoke the emotions in me. A few times during the movie I contemplated leaving, yet Abba compelled me to stay, whispering softly that He had a purpose in prompting me to come watch it. You see, I did so quite spontaneously, as I was leaving Mass today. Simply felt like God was saying, rest today and heal and here is where.
As the Lord helped me to cringe less the emotions flowed. I still struggle with feeling, the intensity of it, floods me always, overwhelms no more but still feels so close to doing so. Each crack of that stick I felt, every blow hit home with me. I understood his cowering in defense as he endeavored to shield himself. How I could read the confusion in his expression when doing as asked led to more abuse. The torturing of the mind and emotions as bruised and scarred as the body, as the abuser sought to break his spirit.
Do you see the brokenness before God that upheld him? His yielding the very source of his staying strong?
So it is with me. I am broken, I know this now. My parents choices of sin against me saw to that. How could I grow deprived of the essence of it? I couldn’t, not as I should have. My body matured and left me behind, my mind became my escape that I was lost, a prisoner of a childhood war. Scarred and weary, lost to another’s war.
Yet, just as the American forces came to the rescue of the POW’s so the forces of Heaven have for me. I was never alone, never abandoned or forgotten. This is a truth I know to the depth of me. Many times my angel stood between my abusers wrath and me as God stayed their hand upon me. Much was endured, yes, yet my spirit knows much more could have been that wasn’t. In witnessing the horror of another’s abuse I came to realize this. As his abuser fell apart emotionally I wondered what could have made him that way? I pitied him that he to was a victim to his choices, unknown to him, but true just the same. A truth I must accept in relation to my abusers as well.
He returned home looking much as he did when he left, on the outside, not inside. I too, traversed my childhood presented one way while living another.
As his family came forward they embraced him, they knowing in their hearts that he was more and less than stood before him. Tears flowed for the reunion but surely for the pain and suffering they knew he endured as well. How this has been for me as well, the family of God, earthly to have thrown their arms wide and welcomed me to healing. Taken me in while knowing there is so much unseen that needs love as well.
The greatest of love this man found in Christ he then extended to those who needed it most, his captors. He returned to Japan and sought them out that he might make peace with them through forgiving each and every one. My dammed emotions broke upon reading that, the truth to flood me that God would have me make peace with my abusers as well, within myself for now. Only He knows if more is needed but I leave that with Him for now.
God showed me heaven as He does so oft, brought me home to be with my family of God. Momma Mary, Papa God and my loving Jesus. How oft we sit together and how sweet and precious those times are. He showed me more though, reminding me that I have an earthly family too. The sweetness of His embrace to awaken within me this…
Someday perhaps my parents and I can embrace on heaven’s side. I can know the joy of telling my older brother I forgive him. Who am I to judge their choices, Jesus whispered to me, when He has forgiven me beyond mine.
I am no one without Him, His saving grace, mercy and forgiveness are my redemption.
So I am to extend to others, beginning with those it is hardest to do so with.
Prayer the key, always that opens the doors of my healing to crack this one as well.
Because of and by God’s power with in me and the Jesus’ redemptive blood I will pray for my parents and brother, for all those others who used me, bought me and beat me. It won’t be easy, I am thankful for the journey of my Lord’s life and the power of His Crucifixion example to lead me.
“Father, forgive them, they knew not what they did.”
Perhaps one day I shall experience running into my Momma’s arms, looking upon my Father’s hands as I hold them, Nodding to my brother as our hearts unite as family was meant to.
The joy to be for me, beyond the embrace, in the knowledge that they too have found forgiveness for themselves, yielded to God and been saved.
Great is the Lord and greatly to be praised.
Unbroken is a 2014 American war drama film, produced and directed by Angelina Jolie, and based on the 2010 non-fiction book by Laura Hillenbrand Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption. The film revolves around the life of USA Olympian and athlete Louis “Louie” Zamperini, portrayed by Jack O’Connell. Zamperini, who died on July 2, 2014, at the age of 97, survived in a raft for 47 days after his bomber was downed in WWII, and was sent to a series of prisoner of war camps.
It surprises me how even just the thought of typing these words causes the fear to rise. My breath feels, oh, so short…the air around me inadequate to supply what it was created to. Surely there is no oxygen for me, not enough to make breathing possible. Not clean, fresh air for sure.
To breath or talk is forbidden. Movement only attracts attention, so don’t move. To look at them? My parents?
For to do so brought unwanted attention. Wrong, dirty and painful. Eyes and touch full of hate.
Safer to be invisible.
So my little me learned as a child. More than learned, really. Rather, such was ingrained upon me. My childhood prison camp tattoo.
My No”s to be really my yes’s.
My mind to say yes, hide!
My body to block the external feeling as my heart did the internal.
It’s not cold, I am warm..yet how that possible? I am small and naked, outside, abandoned in a can. It is winter, as the hail rat-a-tats upon the lid. I focus on the sound to take my mind within, to journey away from present and hide in pretend.
NO! I SAY NOW, I WAS COLD!
I WAS LONELY, SAD AND FORLORN.
i was more than that then and i am more than that now, I whisper to my me, as i drift away.
This was my me of then, one that is doing more than waking up.
i am moving. from then to now
from within to without
no more hidden from myself
cold exists, i feel it these days. It fascinates me that my eyes cry as they feel it too, stingy. My ears tingle, us too as my hands look the same but beg for warmth as well. A coat that once felt undeserved and stifling now wraps me in comfort and coziness. I even find I want a hat upon my head, i want ALL OF ME to feel this cold that they can embrace the warmth.
Warmth of heart and home, of belonging and seeing and existing to experience…
My parents left me out, in the cold, locked away from life…
My Papa, God is letting me in.
That’s what true Papa’s do.
In my dreaming this night I woke myself sure someone was pounding at my front door, only to find no one there. Yet, I was so sure i heard pounding. I stood there a moment confused then opened the door and looked out wondering who would be out in this rainy, wintry mix? i even checked the other doors as i was so sure i had heard that house rattling knocking. As i stood still and breathed the cold, crisp air, i looked up The night dark, yet i felt safe. I shivered as the air told me it was cold, my feet reminding me they liked socks now. As i turned to go back in, realizing no one was outside that it must have been a dream, i paused, my hand upon the knob.
i smiled in my discomfort at my reflection in the window.
now i understood.
it was me knocking, little me from then.
for she knows now that she can look up and into eyes
bundled up and warm, cozy even
I stepped inside then, smiled that i could.
i the one who shut and locked the door, only though to keep out the cold and night.
Now i lie in my bed, sharing this nights healing journey. so full of Papa’s presence.
i shall go now, snuggle beneath my blankets, warm and safe. hold the love of God and Mama Mary close and sleep.
outside of me, inside of life.
my Papa’s Words my doorway out to in,
“I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.”
John 14:6 (KJV)
I have chosen to post this one unedited as given to me of God last night.
i find myself walking the halls of my past. i am not alone, my hand is held i feel it even as it seems that i cannot see by whom for when i look up it is as a flickering shadow, one that enlightens my heart to all who have had and are holding me not just of this earth for heavens grasp is here too i ponder this image I slowly smile both within and without as the meaning of this vision from my Abba is understood. some people have their family trees that are rooted here on earth, ties to generations that they claim with pride i don’t i am the tree uprooted, cast aside to wither and die cut up and burned that even the fragrance of my passing is gone upon the wind cut off from this tree. Still i smile still all is as it should be this is what my God is telling me with a whisper so soft it caresses my heart. “come little one, walk with Me.” I have a choice, I feel it, to stand still as i am or to move forward How i trust this awesome God of mine, memories of all the times He kept me in the dark despair of my childhood abuse, always He was there. i hold His hand tight, i whisper, “Yes.”
And… so it begins
Behind us are many doorways, those of past, of little me. They are darkened now, the lights turned off, as each reflects a soft glow of keeping. Within sleeps the many mes of my abuse. Each to have found love on this journey of healing Abba has me on. To look back leaves me contented, for i know that glow. Beside each sits my true Mother, Mary. as before each door stands my mes Angel. Stands tall and ready that no more harm come to this part of me, that the healed wounds stay just that, all attempts to harm this child shall fail.
So it goes door after door.
As I turn forward, nodding to Abba that I am ready, I can feel the safety behind. All is well with little me.
My smile widens, for the shadows are of all those who have been my family tree unto me, brave. strong souls that have done what was needed to enter those rooms, many that had been barred, sealed shut with lock upon lock upon lock set, no key to be found.
These are they who will travel forward with me, those of this earth and heavenly hosts as well. The flickering is not that they are leaving, it is rather. that each beat of my heart shows me another.
I am safe, loved, belong… grafted in of God.
Growing forward. awaiting, many doors still seen, but this time the way is lighted, brilliant with the glory of the Lords army that lines the way. Angels at guard before many of the doors, others within. fighting the battles already in a forward defense.
This time the journey will be different, oh it shall still have its battles, tears will flow and pain will need faced and claimed, but there will be no childish holding on, no clinging to what is old and worn, valueless.
This time I shall go boldly forward, steps taken with purpose, fully planted as I keep my eyes open.
I am climbing the Everest of my God
Going where fear has kept me from going before
Walking the corridors of life
Rather than self
As I was meant to all along
~Tammy Anne of God ❤
For what I know not
I feel the heats intensity
The beating down of wanting
Weighted of the longing
I am the desert lost within myself
North to lead south as east confounds west
Spinning compass gone haywire
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
Storm brewing as I die of this thirst
For I know not how to open myself to the quenching of love
Pull me from these depths
Life was meant to be
I understand why children need so much repeated soothing
For I am as one
Alone and flooded
Collapsing in upon myself
The sea to swallow me whole
My desert returned
I have learned to forgive
I have found loves touch
Still I float
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.
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.
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
so i let go… and… let Him
How sleep evades me of late, night after night, I to wake in the wee hours, the Sandman having abandoned me. I lie there awhile, relaxing, not minding the night, embracing it. The light of the moon illuminates my room, a beam from heaven bathing me. I close my eyes and simply feel.
Every pore of my body to tingle, much as a sleeping foot does when waking up. I like this sensation. I used to not even be aware of the surface of my skin, I had learned young that it was easier to block the pain if it didn’t exist. Waking black and blue with no reason was gentler to my mind. Not feeling spared my heart, not seeing my vision, not hearing my memories.
Blank, that’s what I was.
A black hole unto myself.
Except with my Papa, God. He who shone His heavenly lights upon me in the cast out loneliness of my nights. How I would watch the clouds pass across the window of my tin home, imagine lying on the puffiness of them as the wind brushed my cheek, stroked my hair and the very heavens sung me a lullaby. It is ironic that the safest memories I have of my childhood are the ones of when I was put out in the trash to sleep.
Yet, is it so ironic?
Not really, not knowing my Abba the way I do.
He who loves me so much that He helped me find good in the sin of mankind committed against me.
As my loving father, to care for me against all odds.
I smile even now, much as I did in those days, wrapped of tin but kept in love and heavenly peace
So goes my nights, my dilemma tied to my abuse, those days to free me these days
The awakening to the cold I endured causes me to sink into the blissful warmth of my blanket snuggled tight.
Thus my dilemma…
I am awake and drawn to prayer, to simply sitting at the feet of my Jesus.
My body to struggle to sleep for it so longs to feel
To leave this earthly plane and sit with my heavenly family
Shall I sleep, shall I go home?
So I ask God to work His purpose in my wakefulness as I settle deep into my bedding, my body still, mind clear, heart open
No dilemma here, simply His leading
How He brings me near, I to sit oh so close as His robes billow about me, enfold me in peace and comfort, I am oh so safe here. We looked into each others eyes, a gaze of understanding, of the intimacy of knowing what the other is thinking without words spoken. For, round about flutters an endless legion of the heavenly host. The wind of their fluttering wings to fan the flames of love I have for my Papa. As we rise, it is to welcome Momma Mary, to complete that which was lost to me. The colors shoot abut, each star streaking by in brilliant array, all of heaven rejoicing, unbelievably, yet true, over me.
Spin Me This
Lies and deceit
Oh so carefully spun
Cloak me to hide me
That I be the one wrong
Upon their hearts and minds
Paints my me
Stains my heart
Am I not more
I feel less
I am the calories they consume
Feeding their desires
Exposure al I lived
That it not exist
Fearful of light
Never the dark
Fearful and sad
Upon the tightrope
The clowns below
Watching Smiles painted on Waiting for my fall Eager for it They will consume me They always do
It is but a dream
One lived before
Tied to now
I am weary from my minds traispsing around in then
After finding my way out of now
I am lonely
As I am small
Before my Father, God
My Mother, Mary
Hold me, please
My heart screams
Let me feel arms around me
More than a hug
A never letting go
Sitting besides kind
Claimed to keep
Wanted just because
I have been pondering so many things of late. It as if I have moved from one dimension into another. I stand on this thin line I see, stretching far to the left and even further to the right. My mind’s eye to survey both sides of this timeline evaluating.
I look back upon my past to see the sameness that followed me into my adulthood from my childhood, the cracks and fractures of the seismic proportion of my abuse endured when small to be the tools I used once grown.
I do not like this truth I see. For as God leads me to revisit times past He is revealing to me, me. Showing me how my perception was faulty and my vision clouded. Helping me to understand that I often allowed my pain of past to blind me of my present truth that the cascade of sin continued. Sin lived out against me to stunt my growth, hold me back as I allowed myself to be abused and used in adulthood.
Adulthood. That milestone where one awakens to a desire to be on their own, to leave the nest and make their own way, much as a child does when the training wheels come off their bike.
I see my children even now, how they wobbled and sometimes even fell down those first few trys. Yet they persisted, got back up and began again. Not thinking about the fall or scrapes rather desiring to try again, to whip down the lane faster than they could with four wheels, loving the idea and freedom two wheels gave them. For my son, after a few months of practice he still wanted to be more in control, so, he let go. Practiced til he could ride with no hands. Learned he could control his direction by other means beyond the obvious one of holding on.
This is where I find myself.
As a young adult and married woman I thought the way to survive was to keep those old training wheels I brought with me from my abuse. Stay tied to not seeing myself capable of freedom and bravery, no daring soul found within me. I had learned my “limits” and kept to them. Love that wasn’t love at all to be reasoned away still yet. I to shoulder the blame and duty to fix everything, only to wear out and brake myself even more.
Four wheels to seem so much safer than two.
Til one day God said, “Enough.” like loving parents do. He simply took those training wheels right out from under me, my world to seem to fall apart as it crashed around me. I found it easier to simply not ride this new bike, it hurt less than colliding with truth.
Yet, again, my loving Father just kept nudging me on that I would start to take small ventures forth. He held my hand to start, guided me and steadied my wobbling til finally He was running beside me by placing those in my life He knew would be what I needed.
How I have relied on all He provided. How sometimes I still yearn for someone to hold onto the seat and do the steadying for me when I hit bumps in the road.
However, my Lord, is showing me it is time. He has been helping me to see beyond myself, giving me a glimpse of freedom, freedom from the past, freedom from the my childhood and even my intense adulthood search for love.
He has promised that He is, “Greater than he who is in the world.” He has never let me down and always far exceeded my hopes or expectations, He is now even.
So, in faith, I throw my arms wide as the wheels of present time carry me forward, further and further into a future that is beckoning. I pedal faster as I look back over my shoulder to see all the ones who helped me get going, watch as they cheer me on. I turn forward that I might see where I am going, secure in knowing they are there when needed.
If I want to be now, I must embrace now.
If I value maturity then I must act mature.
To be worth listening to I must speak up.
As a child of God I embrace this freedom by yielding myself. I implore Him to set me free by tethering me to Him, His words and teachings the wind at my back. The Holy Spirit to steer the way.
For, “When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a (woman), I put away childish things.” 1 Corinthians 13:11 (KJV)
I am finding life to be complex these days, well, not life… rather people.
The more I become aware of around me as I am less focused on surviving, the harder it seems.
I don’t like the way people treat each other, or me, at times.
There is so much projecting of how folks feel on others.
Since they feel offended, they offend…
If there day is bad everyone’s should be…
I am suffering so no happiness allowed…
I am realizing I am still fragile, perhaps only for the first time seeing this truth about me…
A scar I still carry that I take things to personally.
Yes, folks may choose to deal this way with how they are feeling, thing is, it doesn’t mean I have to be a part of it.
As a child it did, now it doesn’t.
In my abuse it was my job to soothe my mother’s anger that it not be directed at me.
Accepting wrong love in my young need supplied a false love where none was given.
Making my abusers better was my existence.
It isn’t anymore.
Yet, I am finding I still react in such a way.
I don’t like this, I am endeavoring to change such and the task is oh so large.
Larger than me, more that I seem able to bear.
Just as my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, had more than He could bear.
He too, turned to His Father, for His love to be His strength.
So shall I
So do I
I am weary and worn out from thinking I need to make all better
I am weary and worn because my focus was off the true source of my need
I don’t need people to get it all right with me
I need to get it all right with Abba
Then His love through me will get it right for me
My focus to be me, my heart and words
My reactions and attitude
My treatment of others
Not to survive as I did past
But to thrive present
In the light and love of my Jesus.
This my prayer, for others, in love
My Lord’s example upon the cross mine to follow
“The amazing grace of the Master, Jesus Christ, the extravagant love of God, the intimate friendship of the Holy Spirit, be with all of you.’ 2 Corinthians 13:14 (MSG)