The Beauty in Scars

 

"scars" Digital art by Beth Conklin

Visit her etsy store & click HERE

The poem below is a response to my favorite prompt that is now back for all poets to enjoy:

Shay's Word Garden Word List!

I am quite late participating but please join in & there will be a new list tomorrow!

(Use at least 3 of the 20 words)

The Beauty in Scars,

"I show my scars so that others know they can heal" - Rhachelle Nicol

There is an art in healing,

letting the willow bend

to no longer break.

My soul does not crave the vase of lilies,

but longs to run in a field of wildflowers.

Yes, I want the sweetness of triumph,

but first I must taste the sober truth

that only a poet or pastor can tell

I can no longer be still like zeroes,

letting weeds grow and surround my aching knees!

Give me engines that propel me forward;

the strength to rise like a fox stepping on hill upon hill.

For there is an art in healing,

letting out all the stitches to embrace every scar.

The Truest Gifts

Google Images

 Linking with Poets United for Poetry Pantry 297 posted by Mary

Love cures people—both the ones who give it and the ones who receive it.

 ~Karl Menninger

It is in the giving of true love and refuge 

that we receive it at its softest core.

It folds back like a large soft blanket

and warms the original giver once more.

You cannot truly give it and not in turn

truly reap it's truest gift

for giving and receiving in some ways

are strongly connected at the hip.

Giving is receiving and receiving is giving....that is how it seems it can be sometimes to me.  When we learn to give graciously and we learn to receive graciously; we learn something about true gifts and giving back and how they are in so many ways connected.  If you know anyone that is deeply involved in the process of recovery of AA, CR, or NA, then you have seen someone that is in the process of consistently giving back to others.  The wonderful truth of it is this:  the act of giving of oneself is a very rewarding thing.  Having said that, I would like to share a story from when I was 11 years old:

My father had just married my new step mother, and we were driving home from a long day out.  It was dark and I was very tired dozing off in the car in between them in the front seat.  My step mother graciously laid my head upon her lap so that I could rest for the remainder of the trip.  I still member it like it was yesterday.  I held my head slightly hovered at her lap, and never truly let my head rest upon her legs.  Looking back, I am not sure why I could not relax and receive her gift of comfort.  It was a sweet gesture that no one else had ever offered before, and I guess I just did not know how to receive it completely.  I realize now, that it was a gracious gift that I missed out on affecting her as well as me, and it is a good example of how giving and receiving are truly connected at the hip.  

When Zombies Speak

pic from Google Images

Dreams are answers to questions we haven't yet figured out how to ask.

 ~X-Files

Sometimes there are things we go through in this life that roar like monsters, but in our struggle through the abyss of day to day living they seem to whisper like a shy child.  We become blinded and unaware of the battle within our hands. So we keep stumbling forward unaware of the danger of complacency that lurks around every corner of our lives.

It has been a while now, but I had a dream one night that I felt spoke to me loud and clear about boundaries and responsibilities.  I cannot recall all the details of the dream now, since I have waited so long to document it, but the gut of the meaning behind it is still fresh like a wound that needs tending.  So I will do my best to reveal it here.

As you may be expecting there were zombies in my dream.  Like I have said before, my dreams have many times been stressful if not borderline nightmares, and this one was no different.    I regret now, that I have waited so long to re-tell the dream, because my memory of it has faded greatly, but I do remember the message I got from it. 

I was dealing with zombies all around.  I don't recall the actual plot of what was going on, except there was blood, gore, stress and chaos at every corner.  I was trying to handle the situation.  Taking care of what was right before me, and then it happened; a zombie spoke to me.

A zombie's head was completely off and on the ground.  Yes, I know, kill the brain= kill the zombie, but this is a dream not "zombies 101".  Anyway something in the dream told me to pick up the head.  I wanted to resist, but my pride would not let me.  I had to prove I was brave enough to do it, but as I reached down to pick it up a voice spoke and urgently said, "DON'T that's NOT your head. I CAN pick up my own, you can pick up YOURS!" That is where I woke up.

I realized that I have been futilely trying to pick up the zombie heads in my life.  (All the troubles of those around me that I am not able to fix.)  I could no more replace their heads than buy a Mercedes Benz or solve world peace, but somehow I keep trying anyway.  It is like the bible verse in Matthew 7:5, "Though hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye, and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye." 

I suppose there are all kinds of ways we get messages in life.  People around us, the bible, situations that we face, and zombies in our dreams. The only trick is, we have to be willing to truly listen.

Linking with Imaginary Gardens for "The Tuesday Platform"

Hi beautiful Toads! :-)

True Testament

Emergence: Surreal Oil Painting by J. J. Long

Truth, like gold, is to be obtained not by its growth, but by washing away from it all that is not gold. ~Leo Tolstoy

Any man can tell the story of what he has learned upon his way and those around him will listen, but it is the account shared by the one that has emerged from the grips of the agony of life's hardest obstacles, faced their demons eye to eye and risen from the depths of deep despair that have a voice that reaches more than just ears.  They speak through the creaking of steps taken on the hardest of floors.  It is that sound that our soul  hears, and then hearkening begins.  It is the echo of sound that reoccurs from this that proves to me the miracles that are born from adversity.  For it seems that it is the evidence of recovery that comes from true redemption that reveals the greatest miracles of all.


Linking with Imaginary Gardens and "The Tuesday Platform".



 

Recovery

Google Images




At the bottom is always the best soil to sow and grow something new again.

In that sense, hitting (rock) bottom, while extremely painful, is also the perfect sowing ground.

That being said, before we can begin to grow, we must first realize that we are bogged down. (Step 1)

WJM

My arms have grown weary and my back is all worn.

My insides are crumbling and my outside is torn.
Life is a journey that requires some might
and rest becomes a luxury instead of a right.
So now I am in need of major repair.
God's needle and thread with love, hope, and care.




This was originally written for
 Poetry Jam for the "One Word" prompt.
My word is:
Recover
Unfortunately I did not make it in time, so I am sharing it with Poet's United's Poetry Pantry #236



  Being the mother of a recovering addict alcoholic has made the last few years of my life rough in more ways than just a worn out arm chair.. I am blessed to be able to say that his ultimate rock bottom was 6 months ago, and the journey since then has been the beginning of rehabilitation for a road full of wreckage that once seemed beyond repair.  It is hard to have to admit, but my own dysfunction inhibited his recovery for a very long time.  My need to smooth the gravel path prolonged his stay on a road of destruction, and that is a sad truth that I must never forget.  The fact of the matter is, recovery is not just for alcoholics and addicts, it is for anyone who has been born upon this earth.  If you have lived then you have felt something and been touched by the wares of life.  It is impossible to feel and not at some point get hurt in some way, and if you have been hurt, then you are in need of recovery. 
Like a worn out chair that has been sat on again and again, we all eventually need some mending.  Fortunately there are many avenues of help out there.  Many churches and support centers have groups that meet and provide a great help to those who are ready and willing for a change.  There is "Celebrate Recovery" a Christ based approach to recovery that was a response to twelve step programs such as Alcoholics Anonymous.  "Overcomers Outreach" is another great support group founded on the twelve steps and the scriptures as well.  No matter what place you might find yourself in this life, there is help and support out there.  You just have to want it bad enough to have the courage to reach out for true help and start mending your life.

Google Images

"Let your hopes, not your hurts shape your future."

~Robert Schuller



Like Broken Glass

"Pain is pain, hurt is hurt, fear is fear, anger is anger, and it has no color."  ~Iyania Vanzant

There is a saying in recovery, "hurt people hurt people".  I used to think I understood what it truly meant and felt that I did not apply to it in any way.  I always considered those around me and their feelings in all my actions, but it seems that I have been mistaken.

It has been over a year now since I went through my last divorce.  It was my second unsuccessful marriage, and it was in my actions after that time that this truth become clear to me like a freshly cleaned window.

There are all kinds of ways we can hurt people in this life.  It is not just done directly by a gun, blunt object, or the tongue.  We can inflict all kinds of damage to others just by the choices we make for ourselves.  The man a woman chooses to marry, if he is not a man of integrity and kindness, can possibly down the road be an abusive father, or simply a poor example of what a man is supposed to be.  This is not a direct act of blatant hurt or premeditated infliction, but it still has its effect on others in the long run. 

 That being said, it is easier to realize that there are ways in my life I might have inflicted pain and suffering upon another.  

My point of greatest weakness is in my relationships.  My choice in men has left others to ponder my very sanity, and question my judgment deeply.  It is almost like a scarlet letter than I have placed with my own hands upon my brow. For others to witness.  I am drawn to a broken man like a river is drawn to the sea.  Is it because I want to fix someone or repair what’s broken?  Maybe, I only know that when faced with a room of choices I will always gravitate to the ones that others would avoid. 

When I started dating again after my last divorce I talked to a couple of nice men and then decided to join a dating site.  Needless to say, a person with my kind of issues should never join a dating site.  It is like putting a heroin addict in a room full of needles; or a child loose in a china shop. Not a good idea all the way around.

In the course of trying to find the perfect man for me, I found myself dating the most broken ones.  I cannot completely explain it, but that is only part of the problem I created.  As certain dates did not work out, or did not meet my need to be utterly needed, I would immediately latch onto the next prospect like a spider grabbing its prey.  Poor unsuspecting men, who simply wanted to meet someone to love, would be trampled upon like they were in the middle of a stampede, as I scurried over to my next prospect of a mate. 

Unfortunately, I left behind a trail of destruction in my wake.  I will probably never know just how far and wide, but I am certain it is there, and I am its culprit.  Now in hindsight I can look back and see it more clearly.  I can view the wreckage for what it is; a broken person hurting other broken people as they pass in life, like a frantic hand reaching through the broken glass. 

I am now settled into a new relationship.  To someone that I met on the date site.  A man that captivated me from the first moment I laid eyes on him.  Our desperate need to be loved and needed makes us both the perfect pair and not.  It is kind of like science experiment that is both amazing to watch, but can be a disaster when it explodes over the flask.  He is a beautiful hearted man, who has made choices in life that have sent him trailing down a harder road than most, and in so many ways so have I.

I guess one could say based on my last paragraph that I have not learned anything from my past mistakes, but to that statement I would disagree.  It may appear that way, but I believe that some changes do not happen fast.  Some things move slow like an old man without his cane.  I may still be in a relationship with a broken person with a past, and I may be frazzled and broken myself, but like a window that has been repaired with new glass, I can see what is before me.  There was a time when I was wandering blindly to this truth.  

Life is like that; a journey of different measured cobbled stone steps that take a while to make.  I may not be where I need to be today, but I am not where I was yesterday, and that is a progress, be it slow as it is.  The truth is, I am a work in progress, and I may still fall along the way, but I am learning a little here and there as I take each step forward.  I may have lingered in the place some would caution to leave, but I also am aware of the cause and effect of my actions and this is a clarity that in the past was utterly broken.  Now it is in the process of a careful and slow repair.

Yes, hurt people hurt people, but those in the process of recovery can reveal healing in their life, that can also give hope to another on their path, and that is where the miracle of recovery begins.

Linking with Poetry Jam for Mary's prompt "Broken".

The photo above was obtained from Google Images.

Lovely Is the Fall

The Mag # 242

If Heaven made him — earth can find some use for him. ~Chinese Proverb

There are many ways we lose things in this life, like a tree loses leaves in the autumn wind.

It is not just death that steals from the heart what could or might have been.

More than just a fire can take a house and tear the home right down,

as many trade winds that blow can carry the leaves until they hit the ground.

I did not realize what I had lost until the midst of winter's hardest cold

though you had been falling long before the autumn's rustling winds could blow.

Yet, for everything that is lost, something else new can be retrieved.  

There is a lesson spread upon the path that sounds out like rustling leaves.

One man's fall can be a guide post for another's future steps in this life
for even loss and hurt serve a greater purpose to inspire a walk that's truly right.




My sponsor once asked me why I could not give my son and his addiction over to God.  For a long time I could not truly answer her question.  At the surface I did not know the answer myself.   The following is the answer I eventually gave her:

"I am afraid of losing him, not just in death, but also in addiction.  For anyone who has ever had a child go through such a severe addiction knows that we do not just lose people through death, we lose people all kinds of ways.  When he was in the depths of his addiction, he was lost, and I felt I had lost the true him; the person he was truly in his heart.  I cannot tell you how devastating that experience is, but I understand now that is why I have held on to the fear of turning him completely over to God, as foolish as that may sound.  Even though he might need to go down another dark path to reach the place God wants him to be, I do not know if I could go through that again.  The pain of losing him in that way is beyond explaining.  Be it what it is, that is my reason."

It has been over a year since I wrote these words, and much has happened since then.  I am grateful to say that he went down the dark path again and hit rock bottom there.  He is now very active in recovery with a sponsor and sponsoring someone himself.  I have seen the miracle of recovering in his life and the inspiration of how he can help others that are on the dark beaten path of addiction.  That is what is lovely about falling.  We can reach out for help and get back up again, It is in that process we become a help to others through the example of our own life's lessons.  It may be a hard course, but when it is learned genuinely it is a beautiful one.

Bending Over Backwards

Natasha Stockham's Photography

Linking with Imaginary Gardens for "Open link Monday"

 

 

"Suffering isn't ennobling, recovery is."  ~Christiaan Barnard

 

 I am not an agile person physically.  I could never do a back bend and land on my feet, nor even do a forward roll or somersault.  Yet when it comes to the matters of the heart and relationships, I will mentally do  an acrobatic dismount off the high beam followed by a cartwheel and the splits.  All the while smiling as if it is an easy feat, but inside I will be groaning with pain.  It is a behavior that I have acted out for years.  So like a heavy oak branch, it is a habit that will not be easy to break. 

One night a few weeks ago I had plans to go to dinner with a dear friend of mine.  I have been sharing my car with my son who was home with my car and she was going to pick me up from work and then take me to my ride so that we could meet up at a farther location to go out to eat.  As I got into her car I realized that she was having a bad day due to a bad phone call, and very much in a hurry to get to our destination. 

 In her presence of frazzled behavior, I found myself wanting to hurry to diminish the stress that lingered in the air.  I rushed out of her car to my apartment, hoping to get my keys and a couple things to head out to my outing with her.  Once I got into my apartment in a whirl of haste, I found another predicament. 

 My son was not feeling well and hoping to be taken to the store to get soup and medicine.  Knowing that this would make me late and my friend even more annoyed.  I reacted with animosity as I scurried around the apartment grabbing my purse and my keys to head out the door.  Of course this made him upset, because I was not going to tend to his problem at the moment, so magically I had another agitated person to deal with.

I dashed in my car with more stress than I entered the apartment with.  I was now carrying the load of two people's dismay, and it was stealing the peace right out of my hands.  As I drove away, I got the big idea of calling a friend of mine that helps me out a lot.  I asked him if he would call my son and take him to the store for me.  The friend commenced to call him, but there was no answer.  I then asked him to try to text.  Unfortunately, that was at no avail.  In the process of urgently asking him to keep trying to get ahold of my son, I found him getting more and more annoyed.  The next thing I knew, he practically hung up on me. 

It had become an eloquent little mess that I could not have planned if I had tried with all my might.  By the time I reached the restaurant I had 3 aggravated people to contend with.  Fortunately my friend calmed down at the restaurant and we had a nice time, and everyone else eventually got over it, as they always seem to do. 

Later that evening as I laid in bed thinking back over the day, I realized how ridiculous the whole thing was.  Each situation perpetuated the next.  My effort to prevent one person from being upset made the next person mad.  It was like a snowball that got bigger as it rolled.  Only I was the ball rolling down the hill trying in vain not to upset the scheme of things. 

It is funny how life has a way of teaching us what we need to know.  I don't need to take gymnastics or psychology to understand that no amount of magic and tricks up my sleeve can keep everyone happy all of the time, but my lifetime habit has been to do just that.   Do whatever it takes no matter how awkward or painful to avoid controversy or dismay.  It holds good intentions, but usually becomes problematic for both me and those I am related to.

Functional....What's That?

Finland, 1968, photo by George F. Mobley

 

The Mag # 216

 

 

"We are living in a world today where lemonade is made from artificial flavors and furniture polish is made from real lemons". ~Alfred E. Newman

 

What is functional really?   

 

 

Is it an umbrella that gives shade from the sun?

 

 

or  shield you from pouring rain?

 

 

and also a fixture in the perfect picture?

 

 

 

then still able to be a playful tool?

 

 

 

all the while capable of being useful as a rest stop upside down?

 

Is that what functional truly means?  Is it like an umbrella that can be versatile and serve many purposes?  Or a tool that always performs correctly?  In the dictionary it says that functional means of or pertaining to function or functions, capable of operating or functioning, having or serving a utilitarian purpose, capable of  serving the purpose for which it was designed. 

 Now days we hear the term functional and dysfunction a lot pertaining to people, family, and life in general.  It is spoken about frequently, but what does it really mean? People that live totally by the rules.   A Dad and Mom that never divorce? A family that eats dinner like"The Cleavers" together at one table every night?  I think if we really dissect the family unit in every house hold we would find that there is no perfect person and certainly no perfect family.

  Functional like a working umbrella, can only take you so far until it needs to be worked on or replaced.  Families go through changes, as do people throughout their lives.  Tools and machines start out shiny and efficient, but eventually are in need of repair.  It is just the way of life.  Nothing, and I mean nothing is beyond the wares and tear of time.  So why would we expect people or our families to be any different?  Maybe it is the old fantasy of wanting the dream life.  Key word being "dream", because dreams are not factual nor true reality. 

 Life is a unique experiment for each of us.  No two people are exactly alike.  That is part of what makes this life such a fascinating journey.   What works for one person does not nearly cut it for another.  You know the old saying, "one man's trash is another man's treasure", and that is just the way things can be.  We live in a world that is ever changing, and so is the family and what we consider normal.  That being said, maybe we should simply throw out the term all together. Cast functional aside like an umbrella after the rain, and just learn to embrace the beauty of change, like a colorful rainbow after the storm.  After all, life is full of storms no matter what side of the tracks you live on. 

 

What does functional in life and the family mean to you? 



 

 

 

 

All That Can Be Saved

Google Images

"Dreams are excursions into the limbo of things, a semi-deliverance from the human prison."  ~Henri Amiel

This is the re-telling of a dream.  Not just any dream, but a dream that spoke to me like no other I have ever had.  You see I am an avid dreamer.  I always dream no matter how short the nap. There is a memory of walking another world while I sleep each and every time I am not awake in this one.  Remembering back to my dreams as a child, they were more often stressful or what one would call a nightmare most of the time.  That still holds true for me today.  Sometimes they are bizarre or inspiring, but the majority of the time they are just one big muddle of calamity.  From the time I was little I always would be trying to escape some kind of danger, and in that intense departure, I would at times be attempting to protect something else, when I was a kid it was the family dog; Pepi, a cantankerous little Chihuahua that my mother probably loved more than my brother and I.  I would scoop him up under my arm, and carry him to safety.  After I was a step mother at the raw age of 19 it would be my young step children.  All three of them would somehow be held within my arms as I found a way to fly with them high up away from danger.  Then there was my first and only child I have given birth to in this world, a little boy that has been rescued in my dreams and out of them more times than I could ever count.  As if I was Hercules, I could carry him and my other children all together within two arms and still escape in flight somewhere away from harm's way.  So it is not unusual that the dream I had on this particular night was about trying to escape.

First let me start by saying that being the child and mother of alcoholism and addiction, rescuing and escaping seem to be a great part of the pattern of my dysfunctional actions in the past trailing into a stumbling mess right up to the present.  That all being said, I will now tell you the dream:

 In my dream I was driving my car down a freeway I had never seen.  In my mind as I drove I remembered letting my son drive it the time before. As I was moving forward, suddenly a cop car was behind me shouting out of a bullhorn "PULL OVER THERE ARE DRUGS IN THAT CAR!"

I desperately tried to find an exit or road to pull over on, but there was none to be found in that strange highway in my dream.  So eventually I made the decision to just keep going.  I drove fast and faster until the police were nowhere in my rear view mirror and I finally ended up at a strange large mansion where there were many other people that were running from the law.  I entered quietly and did not completely speak to anyone there, but somehow understood their plight.  There was a tension there that hung hard like outlaws from old trees in the waist lands of the west.  We all knew what was ultimately coming; we all would have to face a certain prison. 

Like all dreaded scores that must eventually be settled, the time arrived like the thud of thunder after the lightening flash.  The only thing left to do was either hide in the building or escape and flee on foot.  The next thing I remember, I was about to exit the building almost like it was on fire, yet it was not.  Suddenly, I was no longer in my body, but hovering above the outside doorway at the exit of that strange mansion of fools.  What happened next is what I cannot forget.  As I gazed down from the air I actually saw myself as I am now walking out of the building, but I was not alone.  In one hand I had my granddaughter and in the other was another child, but not just any child.  It was me when I was a child holding onto my adult hand.  Staring down at what I like to call a vision, I realized something deep within myself.  What I saw before me was a glimpse of a message to my soul.  My granddaughter represented my future, and myself as a child my past.

I could save neither.  I could only save myself in the here and now.  Not by my own hands nor by running away from trouble, but by standing right where I am and letting God be God and not trying to do His work.

I am not the fixer of all wrongs, nor the saver of all souls, that is the works done by the grace of God.

 I cannot say that this revelation has miraculously changed my actions completely right at this time, but it has been weighing on my heart and mind day by day giving me a glimpse of hope in the miracle of recovery, my compulsion to smooth the rough waters and silence the roars of dysfunction are slowing down.  It is like the recovery quote: "change only happens when your pain of holding on becomes greater than the fear of letting go".  My need to hold everyone and flee for safety is becoming a weary task, I want to avoid, and the layers of denial have been removed piece by piece layer by layer like the peel of an onion or fruit ready to be utilized for its purpose.  Where once I had no sight for my hands and arms were covering my view afraid of the disarray that may stand before me.  Now I simply have my hands gently over my eyes with a slit at the iris like a child watching a scary movie...I am seeing and gaining more courage with time...it is just a slow  process.  I did not get to the place where I stand now all in one night, it happened over a long period of years of broken behavior that built a wall of denial a continent wide.  Walls like that cannot be assembled in a day, nor can they be completely torn down in one either.  Recovering from the past and getting healthier now, is a manner of growth that truly never ends.  It is an ongoing journey that as long as we are in this world never reaches a destination.  The longer I am in recovery the more I understand that it is a brutally honest undertaking that one has to be willing to embrace completely like two lovers truly in love. No holds barred, no stones unturned, everything must be brought out into the light of day raw, naked and real. So here I am awake in the light of day with arms wide open not grasping to save what I cannot, but willing to salvage what I can with the help and grace of God.

God grant me the serenity

to accept the things I cannot change

the courage to change the things I can

and the wisdom to know the difference.

Amen.

Geology of a Broken Heart

Charis, Lake Ediza, California, 1937, by Edward Weston

The Mag # 142

Also linking with Imaginary Gardens open link Monday.

"God can heal a broken heart, but He has to have all the pieces". ~Author Unknown

We cautiously excavate our  life like a young geologist

unsure of what to let lay and what to keep.

Digging through each hurt like rubble

and dusting off the loss for all to see.

We examine all the evidence of life

hypothesizing the source of pain

looking for some reason

hoping for proof or someone to blame.

We leave ourselves wide open

when we search with eyes closed tight.

Trudging further in the mud instead

of digging deeper down inside.

We take on the heavy burden

to somehow carry on the journey home.

Never understanding these worn artifacts

were not meant for us to bear alone.

I believe that the process of recovery and the lesson of letting go is an ongoing journey we never stop re-learning.  Life is full of adversity that we must face everyday, and like choosing salad verses french fries, it is a constant choice. With every problem that arises (and trust me, they will show up, like an unwanted bill in the mail), we have the power to give it to God, and seek His guidance, or to hold on to the situation ourselves, and lean on our own strength and will.  I choose the lighter option. :-)

Giving Taking and Letting Go

Sick Woman, 1665, by Jan Steen

The Mag #138

In order to change we must be sick and tired of being sick and tired.  ~Author Unknown

Of all the comforts that I have been given

and every prescriptions I have taken

the medicine of simply letting go

has been the truest remedy of them all.

Also linking with dVerse Open Link

Our Place In Life,

image: ParkeHarrison

The Mag #111

"It takes hands to build a house, but only hearts can build a home." ~Author Unknown

Twig by twig we build our world long before a boy becomes a man.

The tools that our father's father used eventually fill our hands.

All the methods our great grandfathers learned from the ones that built before,

are passed down to the next generation through trial, error and lesson's chore.

Every sinful habit, and constructive wisdom gained in the design,

are blueprints our fore fathers drafted that determine our way in life.

Yet, simply because a frame is formed and a life is completely raised,

does not mean that the lines drawn before cannot be productively erased.

Being the mother of someone in recovery, I have learned that we are all  in so many ways products of our past, and the past of our parents before us.  The way we build our lives and relationships directly affects our children and then our grand children as well.  When there is unhealthy behavior, it builds a nest of quandary that can become a pattern that others follow for years to come.  Yet, like trigs and limbs of a tree, patterns can be broken, and then removed.   We can rebuild something worthwhile from a nest that is destructive. That is the beauty of the recovery of the human spirit when it is open to the truth in this life.

A Slow Lightening

"Out of difficulties grow miracles."  ~Jean de la Bruyere



In the fast paced world that we live in, it can be hard to see beyond our own worries and responsibilities, or should I say "noses".  We forget that there is more to life than just what is on our personal agenda.  We may have problems,and maybe things could be better, or easier, but there is always someone out there that has a much greater burden to bear.  All you have to do is turn on the six o'clock news and that is made perfectly clear.  There is adversity all around us, yet there are miracles as well.  I am not just talking about the beauty of nature, a new babies sigh, or a crash of lightening that reveals the face of God.  I am speaking of the miracles that do not happen everyday, but some fortunate souls have the opportunity to see take place in someone elses life.  Some miracles are not fast like lightening bolts, they are slow like road repair, but they are still miracles just the same.  I have had the amazing fortune to witness one of these very miracles with my own two eyes.  This is my story:


There are many different ways that we lose things in this life, and many things that can slip right out of our hands without us even realizing what happened. We spend money that seems to fly away much faster than it came to rest in our pockets.  We can lose control of the steering wheel, or we can even lose our sanity.  Countless things get lost that our hands once held tight.  Life is one big harry monster of uncertainty.  One that I am certain resides under my bed when I cannot sleep at night.  I wish that I could know without a shadow of a doubt that everything would always be fine, and that my children would never be harmed or suffer in this life, but that is not the way life is.  Everyday is a new day, full of situations that I cannot predict, and lessons that I can either learn from or re-learn another day to come. 
Losing the ones we love is by far the hardest loss of all, but there are many ways that we can lose a person in our life.  Sometimes people desert us and leave town without a word.  Other times tragic accidents take them before their time.  But there are those other times when they are alive and breathing right in the same room, but we have lost them to the destructive abyss of addiction.  Denial can be a powerful force, one that covers our eyes like a heavy dark shroud blocking our view of the truth.  I think there can be no greater a denial than that of a parent, when it comes to the disfunctional behavior of addiction when it is happening to our own adult children.  At first you just cannot believe that something that wrong could be taking place.  Then you do not want to see it for what it tuly is, because that means you would have to actually believe it and that would be more painful than shards of glass to the soul.  My son's behavior had been only slightly out of the ordinary at first.  It was subtle things like borrowing a little extra money because they were behind on their bills, or not wanting me to tag along on errands.  Then it became more significant things with bigger problems attached.  These situations simply accumulated, creating a huge bolder that eventually crashed the walls down on all our lives.  It was a devestating experience full of misery and uncertainty.  A certain hell that I would not wish on anyone.  But when the walls came crashing down like lightening, and all was lost that could be lost, a miracle emerged.  It was a gradual process, much like road repair.  Where there had been lies and destruction, there was beginning to be truth and reconstruction.  The road recovery was arduous and slow like a crawl, but it was happening, and that was a true miracle in itself.  The recovery of a life is much like road repair.  It takes a lot of destruction and removal of bad asphalt before you can lay down the new pavement.  Seeing this process build and unfold like a flower in bloom is an amazing miracle to behold.  You see some miracles are not fast like lightening strikes.  They are gradual like snow and expand outward like the branches of a tree. A young man we had lost to a life turned upside down by addiction and alcohol, was regaining a whole life again.  This miracle is still a work in progress that I have the privilege to see, and it has an impact on all that are close to him.  Life is full of uncertainty in this world, but one thing is certain, miracles do happen whether we see a lightening strike or we do not.


Linking with Poetry Jam

Freedom Is A Room With A View

Magpie #24

Silence and denial lay together like an unused bed, in an empty room. 

Never allowing truth's purspose, and it's freedom to be viewed.

I spent years laying in that bed waiting for him to become a better man, somehow free.

It was a costly lesson to finally realize the only one I could truly change was me.

For there are times it is strength to linger within the flame,

but there are others when it is mightier to stand up and walk away.

Magpie Tales a great site for writers.