A subtle change that feels big, the kind that when put into words seems to beg the question, “And?” When in reality it is much like a flashing Neon Light. A sign that draws your attention simply because it is there. Blinking non-stop, bright, there even in the corner of your eye kind.
I feel like I have been this neon light. As if my me has been standing still while moving, pulsating with the colors of life, spilling forth in wonder, twirling about flashing, as I have found the rhythm of a childhood missed.
I have loved these colors, embraced them fully inside and out. My home is full of them visually as well as whimsically. Pinks and purples to greens and blues, they are all here representing the flowing of my hearts depth of feeling,
A feeling of childhood.
Of happiness like a smiley face sticker is how that happiness feels, almost that I am wearing one, which is making me smile even now. Remember I am visual writer, picturing just that now.
I feel as though I have been gifted with the glow of living, see myself pulsating as each beat of my heart feeds this through me, color flowing til it can’t help but b
Which brings me to my point, this is a child’s perspective in a way, one where life is lived in the cascading joy of simply being alive, the carefreeness of spinning round and round in a field, free to roll down the hill and embrace that moment in of itself while at the same time the flow of life moves you along.
Everything begging to be explored and embraced, full of why’s, when’s and where’s, that simply propel you forward into more of life.
Neon, is how I would describe childhood as it is meant to be lived and embraced.
I have had my neon gifted to me as part of my healing. For quite awhile I am coming to realize. This gift has been one of time and patience, caring and kindness wrapped in an awareness of me. Memories created to replace those that never should have been that the brightness of them, their very existence to be what draws my heart forward.
Forward from Neon to Pastel.
I still love color but find the flashy and bright, isn’t always what catches my eye these days. I like the muted tones as well, the soft warmth they instill in me causing me to feel safe and settled.I now prefer to sit in that same field, to lie upon the field and find stillness as the clouds pass by slowly full of a caressing softness. The wind whispers to me if I but listen and the whole of living finds me.
I pause awhile even now, to find myself drawn to this field, within for now to be experienced sometime later. But, oh, how I am transported there even now.
Neon has passed as all childhood do.
Now, before me lies a field of wildflowers, begging crossing.
A slower journey this one will be, in the experiencing.
One of holding still a choice not instinct, where the stillness is a time of healing, as my me is awake.
Life to be embraced in the quiet moments, in the wisps of love sent my way.
I am growing up and I like it.
My soul set free upon the wind of my Father, God’s mighty healing gift of life.
As I am becoming Woman
“The spirit of God hath made me, and the breath of the Almighty hath given me life.” Job 33:4 (KJV)
“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)
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.
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.
A hiding that followed me as I grew, becoming more than the safety net the child invented it for.
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.”
Oh 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.
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.
I 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.
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
Lines and dots, Tittles really
Nothing in of themselves
Making no sense at all
Until one learns
Comes to see the clarity that exists among them
Now an “A”
A whole new world opened
Mind given a place to roam
Tongue tasting the flavors of the sounds
All coming together
Expanding the world of that child
Finding the shape of sounds
The moreness of the letter upon the page
Absorbing the meaning
Exploring the context
Savoring the beauty of words
Whole words settling
A story being written
Sensible perhaps to only me and my Abba
“That’s your chair. Come on in. You can fall asleep at my door anytime. Breathe. I am Eva. You are safe here. PT. Here have another egg. How can I help? Come on in. Whoever hurt you so m much is not here. Give me your hand. We found her. Who let the dog’s out! Thank you for allowing me to be there for you. Everything you write is amazing. You are a writer, put your name there. You are more than then or them, you are now and you. You don’t need to do it alone. Breathe. Rest. And that’s okay. Call me, anytime. Too funny. What would you like for breakfast? She’s cold. Come here. Of course that scared you. What’s that you’re holding? Thank you. Breathe. You work so hard at healing. Tell me. Breathe. It’s all ok.
The beginning paragraph found…
Hope blossoming from the seed of being seen
Love watering the journey
Belonging taking root
Firmly planted in the love and light of life
Tammy Anne of God
“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”
“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
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 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)
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.
My 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…
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
Thank you Abba and Momma Mary for showing me this.
PHOTO CREDIT: MIKE AND EVA STOUT
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…
His perspective, not mine…
His patience and peace…
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 like this word, just the way it rolls of the tongue, full of nonsense sounding even though it is a legit word.
Gobsmacked, pronounced just as it looks. Break it apart and it makes sense.
When I think of a Gob it is to picture a massive amount of something, so much so that it’s astounding, which is a synonym to Gobsmacked.
Then there is the Smacked part, no trouble understanding that one! How I “see” that mound of “something” as it comes flying at me!
Sums up what I felt today just perfectly.
I was GOBSMACKED… astounded at the flood of feeling that hit me, overwhelmed at the realization of what it was even as i staggered internally at the mere thought of it being my truth to claim. How thunderstruck I felt, speechless at the realization of what was gifted to me today, overcome by love.
I have known people care, have had many there for me, but this was different. This was a security kind of love, a knowing i can be ,me and feel safe. A comfortableness with people, belonging. I feel that i am someone, seen and cared for, wanted around. I count and matter, how i feel does too.
I sat with this feeling a long time tonight, sat with Papa and simply let it crash into me. Again and again i felt it. so overwhelming as it flooded me, remembering that i was safe, hands were not their to use, feet weren’t directed at me in harm. I could be a part of good and right, i fit.
i like fitting. i still feel afraid some, but it is ok cause i am facing it with Abba. He has helped me overcome so much already, given me peace in so many places my body held fear. He will give my heart this same peace, heal me til i am all alright.
i can’t find wholeness with opposites…
i want to find that…
so instead i will tell myself as oft as needed…
i am safe, i am loved, i am home…
i am me, someone…
and that’s ok.
by bit, by bit.
This is how I feel of late, as though I am being put back together.
When I awaken each morning to talk with Papa, I am such a jumbled mess of tangledness.
He has been calling me of late to work on a puzzle each morn as part of that time.
We to sit together and work on it, talking as we do.
He is showing me a lot during these times, teaching me even more.
My feelings are such a puzzle to me… it isn’t even always about the past ones either. Oft, it is present. Emotions are so confusing to me, i get so lost in them. Sometimes to cry simply because I don’t understand.
I have found something else my parents choices robbed me of.
The right to feel. A knowing of where those feelings belong, can’t know what to do with what i never had.
I cry even now, overwhelmed at the loss of such beauty Abba intended for me.
The beauty of experiencing the joy of childhood, of carefreeness and wonder. To be silly just because being silly is how one feels, for that silliness to bring smiles. Maybe I am tired and can be, my grumpiness soothed away. What if I just want to run for runnings sake, hide for fun and roll down the hill… follow momma around just because it feels safe.
Bit by bit by bit, sometimes the tiniest, but still a bit.
I too am a puzzle.
That’s how I feel, and….
I can feel how I do, it is allowed.
With each piece Papa helps me place in our puzzle we are working on together,
He is showing me He is doing the same with me.
My puzzle is going to be so pretty, I am going to keep it forever, on display once finished,
My Papa is going to keep me too…
I am not a puzzle to Him…
Rather His masterpiece He is creating.
I feel it and that’s ok.