If My Eyes Were Video Recorders

If my eyes were video recorders, what a story they would tell.
From inside my mother's womb, finding my thumb was swell.
The doctor reaching to get me, then popping me on the butt,
Being cleaned up and swaddled in a blanket,
Then her voice - I knew so much.

So many visitors wanted to see my tiny form,
Grandmas and Uncles and others I adored.
Months later I was baptized, water sprinkled on my head.
A commitment by my parents, to raise me as God lead.

Soon came my sisters, they seldom played apart.
Two younger siblings, I loved with all my heart.
We played together nicely, creative ways for sure,
I'm going to share a silly one, a little gross, not pure.

My mom was downstairs, when suddenly she thought,
"There's no noise upstairs, I wonder what they've got."
She opened the bedroom door and to her horror she did see,
My sister and I with our diapers off, throwing our poop and our pee.

Yes, we were covered, and yes our walls were, too.
But how can you punish a child who was created by you?
We both had baths, lots of bubbles and shampoo,
We love telling that story and I bet you would, too.

I don't want to talk about the days my eyes saw the belt,
Or his big hand to hit me or the pain that I felt.
The beatings were often, I begged and screamed, "no."
I shut off my feelings - I became numb,
This is when I wanted to go.

As I grew older and became more his size,
He would get in my face and stare angrily into my eyes.
It was a challenge to physically fight me, a flinch meant round one,
But I was sober, not stupid, even though I wanted a gun.

He hit me less often but developed a new trick.
He would shove his hand up under my chin and neck,
Against the wall he would slam me, his drunk breath I could smell,
Beady eyes and the surprise, I wanted him in hell.

I'm going to stop there, the recorder has much more.
But those viewings will be in my book, it's too draining from my core.
Suffice it to say our eyes see a lot and I'm grateful to God for this:

He has given me beauty in the ashes, for such a time as this.

If My Skin Could Talk

If my skin could talk, it would have quite a story to tell.
From the formation in my mother's womb to the
Present day in my living room,
My skin would have a lot to say.

It would reminisce on the early days of baby wash, lotion and coos,
Feeling the softness of the blanket and my mom holding me tight.
Her kisses on my cheek, her singing in my ear,
I would drift off to sleep with no harm and no fear.

Soon those days were over and my skin felt something else.
It was hard and abrasive, I cried each time it was dealt.
I didn't know what caused it, I didn't know how to stop it,
So I figured out how to tighten my muscles so the pain
Would wrap itself around it.

My skin talked to me by changing colors where I was hit.
Black, blue, green and yellow all those colors were it.
I hid them very well for I was taught to be a good girl,
Besides, who really cared?  I was on my own in this world.

For decades I self injured by pulling my hair out,
I punished myself for my shame.
I cut myself on my arms and torso because
I had no one else to blame.
The biting in my mouth no one else needed to know,
It was a secret I'd kept until many months ago.

My skin was broken by sexual abuse, my little body victimized.
I tell myself it isn't my fault but I still feel mummified.
Someone stole my innocence, I see his face very clear,
I know his name instinctively, I've known it for many years.

If my skin could talk, it would have a lot to say.
From a mother's love to a father's abuse the memories don't fade away.
I hope as God heals me and as I read His word,
My skin will find a place to call home and it's story will be heard.

Meet My Friend, Jennifer

(c) Posted with permission of Jennifer K.

Your face shines upon me, Lord, your warmth invites me in.

I cannot stop looking at you because you forgave all of my sin.

For so long I wandered in the desert, like a sheep, I had gone astray.

When I found what I was looking for, I cried on that day.

Now I stand here with arms outstretched, my hands are open wide.

Take me where you want me to go, I will follow you as my guide.

Sit back and relax as I tell you a story about the friendship between Jennifer and I.

We grew up in the suburbs of Chicago.  She in a little town and I in a little village.  We attended the same grade school until Jennifer moved away for a short time.

Our little grade school had two of every grade except for fifth grade - there was only one class.  I don't remember how we connected but I have a picture of her at one of my birthday parties and one of the two of us in Girl Scouts.  We are beaming with smiles.

My home life at that time was already difficult.  I was sexually abused and the physical abuse became regular.  It was hard for me to sleep through the night after the abuse.  My body hurt, my sisters were crying and the yelling did not stop.  The bed wetting woke me up when I did fall asleep.  Then I had to get up, put something on my mattress to cover the wet spot, put the sheets and blanket into the washer then try to go back to sleep.  I rarely fell back to sleep.

I was pretty quiet at school.  I'm an introvert by nature but this was a different kind of quiet.  I wanted to blend into the walls so no one would see me.  Having friends was fun but also risky.

When we moved onto Jr. High (three years I don't really remember), friendships changed.  Jennifer began hanging out with a whole new crowd that I instinctively knew I did not belong in.  She's an extrovert and loves to be with people.  That new crowd was the school spirit crowd and it was the perfect fit for her outgoing and bubbly personality.

The same thing happened in High School.  After my parents divorced and I wasn't dealing with active alcoholism anymore and I was going to Alateen, I was able to have some friends all four years.  I learned who I liked and the type of crowd I was drawn to.  Simple people who valued loyalty and honesty, laughter and detentions.

Even though I felt sad to lose my friend, Jennifer and I found friendships where we fit and we were both happy.

Fast forward to about a year or so ago.  A friend request on Facebook leads to comments on each other's posts then a shared coffee which leads to a heartfelt reconnection that was planted so many years ago.  There was instant love with no pretense, authentic conversation, a little teasing at her best friend's (and my friend, Saundra's) volleyball game and some really nice chats.

Here's what I've learned:  As children we go through a lot of emotional and relational changes, especially in our friendships.  I believe God plants seeds in people and when both parties are ready, those seeds begin to sprout.  Sprouting leads to growth and growth leads to blossoms.  Nurture in the form of watering, weeding and fertilizing are essential for the friendship to take root and have healthy growth.

Not all friendships from our childhood changed because of malicious intent.  Some of them changed because of unhealthy relating patterns.  Some changed because people were going in opposite directions.  But some changed because God had a plan for the future.  When people remain open and walk through the fear of rejection (that was me), He can circle those people back to each other in adulthood and restore the friendship.  That's what I think happened between Jennifer and I.

I consider myself blessed beyond anything I deserve.  Our friendship is truly a miraculous one.

All this to say:  "There is a time and a purpose for everything under Heaven."  Ecc 3:1

BP/Emotions/Food

I've been tracking my high blood pressure for a week.  Most of the numbers are normal or below normal.  Two of them are high.  Those two are from the last two days.

What's weird about it is I've been in a slump.  A slump is a mixture of depression and grieving and sadness and isolation.  I don't leave my house but it's not because I'm afraid to go outside.  I lay on the couch but it's not because I'm too sad to get up.  I watched multiple seasons of a television show I enjoy because it wasn't depressing - it was intellectually stimulating.  It had some sadness so I cried a little bit.  It had some grieving so I cried a little bit more.

I didn't over react or under react to the death of a main character.  I felt sad.  The show moved on and so did I. The show handled the death well and so did I.  The show did not get bogged down in the grief and none of the surviving characters became suicidal or self injured or gorged on food and neither did I.  As was their custom as lawyers, they drank.  A lot.  That bothered me a little bit but I know as a recovering alcoholic my substance of choice has to be God related.  Mostly scriptural and prayer.

So today I went to therapy.  It felt like there were times I was slipping into a dissociating state but even so I felt a little more present.  We continued addressing the beliefs I have about food.  For some of the deeper questions, I let my eyes stare at the wall while I thought of a response then I talked.  It felt good to be able to answer some hard questions about how my childhood shaped my beliefs about food even if I was a bit disconnected.  Sometimes those questions need to be answered honestly and staying present for the answer is harder than it seems.  Eventually, I catch up.

In my own defense, I believe I stayed present the rest of the session.  I said some things that were a bit shocking to hear from myself.  It's one of those times when I wish I'd had a recording device so I could play it back.  It was my voice, my words, but it seemed to be spirit led.  The Holy Spirit.

I tried to capture it but I couldn't.  I was having difficulty writing.  I was having difficulty hearing what Faith was saying back to me.  I mentioned bringing my laptop in next time so I can type it and she said that would be fine with her.  Yeah, maybe that's what I'll do.

In the mean time, I'm going to practice changing my beliefs about food.  What I learned growing up isn't working for me.  It's like finding my own beliefs in a forest filled with possibilities and choices.  Where do I start?

The first step is to pray and ask God if He wants me in a forest.
The second step is to pray and ask God if He wants me in this forest.
The third step is to pray and ask God if He wants me to walk into this forest alone.
The fourth step is to pray and ask God if He wants me to start walking.
The fifth step is to pray and ask God how far He wants me to walk.

I've walked with God long enough to know life change is slow and healthy permanent change comes in the form of asking, waiting, asking, waiting, asking, waiting, waiting, waiting, then go and ask and wait some more.

He's not Jiffy God.