Thursday, June 21, 2018

Parenting - a special assignment

I swing from thinking there’s nothing wrong,
To thinking that everything is.
It’s all my fault!  But I’m doing my best.
I’m trying to be strong, but I feel like a mess.

I don’t know where to find the help that I need
And if I find it, where will it lead?
Doesn’t everyone learn at their own speed?

To admit there’s a problem is such a hard thing.
What if they blame me?  Or think it’s just in my head?
What if I’m wrong? Then I’ll regret what I said!

I swing from thinking there’s nothing wrong,
To thinking that everything is.
It’s all my fault!  But I’m doing my best.
I’m trying to be strong, but I feel like a mess.

It seems like he’s better, I must be making a fuss
But there was still that time and the other,
Those things that made me cuss, then wonder.
Who is this child? What’s it all about?
Why does he act so different? Next time I’ll try not to shout!

I swing from thinking there’s nothing wrong,
To thinking that everything is.
It’s all my fault!  But I’m doing my best.
I’m trying to be strong, but I feel like a mess.

They don’t understand, it’s not the same.
They can laugh and move on and not let it worry them.
I shake and cry then hide and self-condemn.
I must be doing something to make this happen,
I must figure it out, so it can stop.
I must try something else, but first get the mop.

Clean up the spill, dry the tears,
Try to forget the door slamming, try to silence my fears.
The adrenaline’s still running rife through my veins,
It’s so strong, it’s hard not to believe its claims.

You’re a terrible mother.  He will hate you forever.
Could you survive if she died?  Please, you beg - never!
You don’t want these thoughts but they enter unbidden.
Please God, help me, my sins be forgiven.
Don’t punish my children if I’ve done something wrong.
I can’t bear this anymore, help me sing one more song.

If they go to sleep then I can too,
Then I can breathe and believe that it’s possible
To make it through one more day...that’s plausible.
I will try again tomorrow.  It can only get better?
Except that might not be true and the fear says
I need instructions to follow to the letter.

But no-one gave me the manual, to tell me what to do
He came without instructions and she did too.
They are so different, so surely it can’t all be my fault?
I try hard to believe before the next doubt assault.

Where are the answers?  Who do I call?
This is such a struggle, I don’t want to fall.
But no-one is here to pick me up.  
I’m completely empty, there is nothing left in my cup.
He hasn’t noticed, he thinks there’s nothing wrong.
I carry on, and I sing the song.

But the time is coming where I will find out I’m right.
I’m wrong too, but I finally have some insight.
I wish I could have known then, what I know now.
But it was a journey we had to travel by walking
Before I could release the trauma of it through talking.

Even with more experience the pendulum still swings,
from thinking there’s nothing wrong,
To thinking that everything is.
It’s all my fault!  But I’m doing my best.
I’m trying to be strong, but I feel like a mess.

Friday, April 27, 2018

What now?

The answer is not in a wine glass
Whether rose or chardonnay
I don't think the answer is checking off all the things on my to-do list every day.

I don't think it's as simple as letting the bygones be gone
Even though letting go is where I'm finding my beginning,
I still feel the paralysis of self-doubt and fear lingering.

I want to know who I am, who is me?
I want to feel boundless, I want to feel free.
I'm not who I was because I only thought of others
Now to discover myself, who did God make me to be?

Wind in my hair, a song on my lips
Tasting His goodness, chewing bread, wine in sips.
Jesus is mine, in Him I am found
I sing a new song, I praise Him with sound.

His blessings are present all the time, in all weathers.
He takes care of the birds, he knows all their feathers.
Every hair on my head whether white or brown,
He counts every one and then gives me a crown.

I am his daughter, He is my father, my King.
Jesus prepares me a place even as He dawns a new day.
God is the potter, I am the clay

However He fashions me, I'm willing to be molded.
I know He is good, I no longer fear being scolded.
There are things he's preparing, things for me alone to do.

I don't think they are difficult, not when I can rest in Him.
After all, He once made a miracle out of fish and bread,
And He has brought me back from wishing I were dead.

Show me Lord, the wonders and simplicity
Of living for you,
The Holy Spirit burned down the old and now I'm made new.

My grave clothes untied,
A shack destroyed.
I saw Heaven opened, angelic light and myself as a bride.

Thank you for the pictures,
Thank you for the friends,
For prayers and visions,
healing hands and glimpses round the bends.

I don't know what I'm doing or what to say,
I don't know where to go, or how to stay
Except to remember what you said to Thomas,
You will know who to follow, because I am the way.

Sunday, April 08, 2018

New Life

It’s time to stop living a half-lived life.

It’s time to say goodbye to “good girl”, tuck her up and say “night, night”

Her work is done, she can do no more

Her story says “The End”

Because that’s not who I am anymore!

Seven years from being born again
But never fully claiming the freedom of what that means
Three years from making a big choice, starting to find my voice
Believing that I matter, that I can do things for ME
I’m not the only one who feels, I’m not the only one who needs set free

Free from the past and the bonds that ensnared me
Free from the pain, the fear and the tragedy

It might have been tough, but I don’t need pity
It might have been scary but I learned to be brave
I was alone and lonely but that’s not strictly true
You showed me love was present,
Now I can let go of thinking those were things only she was “supposed” to do

Comfort, nurture, love, and warmth
Hugs, a blanket, friends and prayer
Finding rest in sleep and sitting in a chair.
Flowers and sunshine, wind and rain
In all of these I was found again

Saturday, January 06, 2018

Then and now

Wanted but rejected

a rainbow baby untreasured

a survivor with a death wish

loved across time

unknown in the present

cut off,  unheld

worried over, over worried.

plump flesh, starving heart

cut open, stitched together

scarred and still broken.

Accepted despite doubt

desire unburied

cravings discovered and met in part

tears counted, held close

kindness and patience,

uncommon respect.

Spirit guided,

pools of empathy

hoping for wholeness.

Monday, October 23, 2017

All in life's mix.

I'm not a misery guts,
I wasn't born to cry.
I've had to endure some crap,
Before I could learn to fly.

The tears, irritation, anxiety and rage,
Are not really me, it's just I was scared.
Scared of life, scared of death, scared to really try.
I want things to be easier, but easy means to die.

Death would be easy, it's life that's the struggle.
But just because I've made mistakes, doesn't mean I'm in trouble.
Trying to be perfect while painfully aware I was not.
I was never going to succeed no matter how close I got.

What I wanted was love, but it was elusive.
I wanted back in, but their new lives were exclusive.
I have my own life and my own children now;
But there is something still missing, no matter how
I do my best to love, do my best to mother.
But I feel abandoned and lost because he chose another.

Someone else's daughter was deemed better than me.
How could that be possible?  It should never be!
To forget your own child and choose someone else instead.
Thank goodness for God's promises inside the bible I've read.
He has chosen me for His, He will never forget.
I will always be loved and cherished;
I can't be lost in a bet.

This knowledge helps, but is not the same as escaping rejection
I understand pain and heartbreak;
a gift received, despite objection.
I don't like the suffering and grief that are part of life's mix.
Yet He promises to make good from the things we'd rather He magically fix.
Who am I to try to return this gift to my maker?
I will try to trust this recipe sent by the Heavenly baker.

Thursday, August 04, 2016

Looking at me

I would say, "look at me now" but I don't really want you to look at me.

I am not yet strong enough to stand there steadfast declaring my worth.

Because when you look at me, I wither.

I try to shrink and diminish before you bring me down.

But if I stand here and say, "look at me, world!", I have confidence.

Because what the world sees is really me.

I don't know what you see.  But it's not really me.

The world says, "well done!"  and "we wish you well".

You don't say anything at all and that hurts.

The world says:  "you will be great at that"  and again you say nothing.

I thank God for the people who care, and who love me.

I thank God that I'm learning to accept their love and declare myself worthy.

It is hard to look back and see a black hole.

It is hard to look in the face of my daughter and see myself and wonder how anyone could not have loved me.  She is so beautiful.  I was too, but nobody ever told me so.

And it's not just about the way she looks.  It's how she concentrates, it's how she cares, it's how she shows her emotions and loves with such purity and strength.  I know I was like that too.

She has her own ways to shine too, that are different from mine, but I don't resent that - I love that - her mix of gifts, given from God.  To be celebrated, not negated.

So here I stand.  On the brink of something new.  And I try to believe.

Believe that I can do it.  Believe that it's OK to start something new. To be a beginner.

Believe that asking for help is a sign of strength.  That feedback is not to be feared.  And life is for living out loud and not hiding in case somebody doesn't like me.

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

Don't go

You are hoisting me along the hall.
I am clinging to your leg, I can't let go.
Please don't go....

There is darkness, blackness, bleakness.
Weeks of life pass without memory.
Until airport day.

Until you are back, until you are home.
And you are happy and I am too.
There are presents.

Things you thought I would like.
Things from a foreign land that maybe you can't even get here.
Things that speak to my heart and make me feel known.
And noticed.
And even a little bit special.