A Life for a Life!

"Hatred paralyzes life; love releases it. Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it. Hatred darkens life; love illuminates it. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that. " Martin Luther King, Jr.  

A life for a life  - I 've been watching the Casey Anthony trial..it's made me think about the people who hurt me....who did things that caused me to slip so far down into darkness that all I wanted....was to let go.....and let the darkness have its way.  

For a long time I hated those people....I wanted them to suffer....and feel the burn like I did.

Hate consumed me. It caused me turn on myself...punishing myself for what they had done.  

It took me a long time to realize.....hating them hurt me.....not them. It kept me locked in darkness.... punching the air....and slipping further down.

The touch of His gentleness made the difference. It showed me.....love, kindness, forgiveness frees in ways that nothing else can. I knew force, threats, fear....this was different. Kindness softened my heart...gentleness quieted the rage...love dissolved the hate.

A life for a life -  I didn't get what I deserved. Instead...I was shown mercy and given a chance to live free. 
A life for a life  - I don't want those who hurt me to die.....I just don't want them to ever hurt anyone else. And as long as they have breath....there's a chance they might even turn their lives around. 
A life for a life - His for mine.....gave me the freedom I desperately wanted. 
A life for a life - it's already been done

Do Better

When we  know better we do better. Maya Angelou

I have dreams...goals... desires. I want to make a difference.....shine a light....show hope...

For a long time I couldn't.....I hid what happened....I didn't want anyone to know....I ran scared....living in shame....afraid for anyone to look in my eyes....I knew if they did....they'd know the truth. And they'd believe what I knew...that what happened was my fault....that there was something inherently wrong with me for it to even have happened at all. 

I believed those lies for a long time....letting them keep me living less than my best.  At my lowest....when I couldn't hold on anymore.....He touched me....broke through the shame....and amazingly.....began to turn everything around. It didn't come easy. I struggled against the 'truth.' I couldn't accept that it wasn't my fault.  

I don't know why I believed that....but the lie was the cement that kept me down....that kept me running scared...that pushed me close to the line of death not once....but many times. Lies. I trusted in them and they almost killed me.

The squeeze of darkness soured my life....and created a bottomless void of always wanting and never being able to fill its gnawing hunger that constantly growled its emptiness.  I thought it would win....I thought there was no way I could ever get free. The hold it had kept me down....kept me defeated....

But His love made the difference....it cut through the darkness....It won the battle. The things that happened are become dimmer...And His truth is shining brighter. Love made a difference....His love.....and it still does. Love that trumps everything else.....

hunger and love

You've got to have something to eat and a little love in your life before you can hold still for anybody's sermon on how to behave.  Billie Holiday 

She was an amazing blues singer. A black woman who wowed audiences. Raped at ten and then again in her teens, Billie never dealt with her issues.....never learned she didn't deserve what happened. Her singing....full of passion...full of soul - she poured her pain into every song......connecting with audiences that kept them coming back for more.  

But Billie couldn't put the dope down. It held her a prisoner to the past...even though she used it to forget. It became a doubled edged sword...not doing what she needed. And in the end it brought her down....took her life......killed her.  

Billie Holiday knew.....professionals...preachers telling you how you should act...and live...what you should do.....and if you don't...something wasn't wrong with the message....something was wrong with you. 

I heard that all the time. I was told I didn't want help if I didn't do what 'they' said. But when you're hungry...starving....and your soul is growling to be filled.....not for food....but for a touch of love.....you can't hear nothing. Words become meaningless....empty. And like listening to a dripping faucet....over time they just becomes annoying. 

Touched by love....feeling safe.....being accepted has greater power than any words.  I had a radio interview yesterday. When asked what made the difference in turning my life around - I knew - the touch of His love.....love made a difference....love that waited....love that never forced me to be or do anything. A gentle and accepting love that met me right where I was....in the dark....in the pain....in the shame. 

Love had the power to do what no amount of words could. It was like cortisone for my soul....a healing ointment...that removed the infection, the pain and eventually even the scars.

His love made the difference. It gave me what nothing else did. It became an anchor to hold onto and fight back.

Home

"I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself." Maya Angelou

The week away was fun....but the last couple of days....all I wanted was to go home. When we drove into our driveway I felt relief. And when we opened the door and stepped inside.....I breathed....a deep breath. Being home felt so good.  I walked into every room....looked at all our things....still there...in the same places...untouched...unchanged. Their presence calming...comforting...soothing.

Home....a word that holds so much meaning.
Home....familiar...reasuring....safe. 
At home...in my house - I belong....I feel safe. I'm not afraid. 

For a long time I had this terrible ache...deep inside....a cry...'I want to go home. I just want to go home.' I had no home to go to. No family where I belonged. No safe place where I could kick back...let go...and catch a breathe from life. All I knew was how to fight to survive.....to make it from one day to the next on my own...alone...on the streets....everything always changing... places...people....things. Even now sometimes I feel a need to fight. I have to consciously tell myself that need doesn't exist anymore. It's gone.

Home....it's more than just bricks and morter. It's a sense of belonging to myself....being comfortable in my own skin. I never did. I walked around detached...separate from myself.  I believed anyone had the right to do anything they wanted to me or to my body.  My body wasn't mine. I felt awkward in it...as if it didn't fit quite right..

Coming home to me has been a long hard journey. I couldn't stop from falling further and further away from myself.....and deeper into the darkness....not until He touched me....made a difference... showed that I do belong...that I am loved.

"There's no place like home." Dorothy, Wizard of Oz

All the Same

"We all live with the objective of being happy; our lives are all different, and yet the same." Anne Frank

Sometimes I think about all the people around the globe....how we all live such different lives....speaking different languages. Some of us have every material thing you can think of......others just scaping by.. Some are alone with no one in their corner.....others surrounded with tons of family and friends. 

But no matter how different we look.....or act.....or what our traditions are.....all of us want the same things. We all want to be loved....and accepted....and we all want to know our lives have purpose.

I walked around with this huge hole inside for a long time....always aching...always hungry...yearning for something....but didn't even know what. Now...I do know. What I wanted.....what I really needed....was for someone to say I mattered....that I was worth something - to have someone care....care enough to stay....to be in my corner....and to believe in me.  

I wanted someone to care without trying to fit me into a mold.....their slant of how I 'should' or 'should' not be ......without trying to change me to fit into their idea of right or wrong. When I resisted.....I was told I didn't want to be healthy....or free. 

No one really knows what's in anybody's heart....but there's one thing I believe....that all of us....young or old.....male or female....whatever one's nationality.....or race......we all want the same thing.....to be loved and accepted just for being who we are. 

Know Hope

"When you say a person or situation is hopeless, you are slamming the door in the face of God." Charles L. Allen 

Living with no hope is the worse thing ever. It's a pain that never goes away. 

For so long....I had no hope of things ever changing.... of ever getting better. Hopelessness - a constant gnawing inside that hurt so bad....nagging and tugging....a painful torment....forcing me to focus on one thing.....getting free...even if it meant ending my life. And I tried. Many times.....overdosing, cutting my wrists....even jumping in front of a car. 

Hopelessness ....it colored my world....dark...black....empty.  I spent a long time in that darkness....seeing no way out....days...nights....weeks... months.... years.

Professionals believed they had the answers....they knew what I needed. If I'd just listen to them....take their advice....I'd be okay...they promised. But being okay wasn't something I believed could ever happen. I knew it was useless to even try....

Hopelessness....It made my heart sick. 
Hopelessness....An emptiness that never went away....
Hopelessness....A ravanous hunger that kept growing deeper and screamed louder wanting to be be filled.
Hopelessness....A painful aching...a desperation that never quieted. 

It hurt so bad....it cut worse than anything I ever experienced. And then one day....

Hope - without it.....there's no life
Hope - it's a thread to hang onto when there's nothing else.
Hope - it's what made the difference for me. His gentle touch.....calmed the craving....gave me the thread of hope...I have no idea how He did it...but things changed.....

Not everything....I still had to fight.....and fight hard to break free.....but I had Hope and Hope made the difference. It helped me hold on....It helped me believe.....It helped me know..... somehow things would be okay. 

Someone who read my story wrote me....told me my book came to her as a message of hope. After reading her words....I went running in the woods...wanting to hear His gentle whisper in the wind.....grateful that He didn't let me die..grateful I can now give someone else the gift of Hope.......

Lisa: I got your book yesterday afternoon...I read late into the night and this afternoon....yours is such a beautifully written book, one that resonates with me on so many levels. I loved the descriptions, felt like I was right beside you, experiencing every situation with you. At times it was hard to breathe. Other times, I was moved to tears. Many times I was frightened for your safety, touched by your endless bravery. And then I was inspired.....

I found the detail of the coaching advice affirming the very processes I am currently working on in order to change my own negative belief systems. I don't believe in co-incidence, your book came to me as a message of hope. 

Conflict

"The mother-daughter relationship is the most complex"  Wynonna Judd

I rarely argue with my daughter...but tonight I got angry at her....angry because of my own dumb fear. 

She started a new school last September. She's the kind of kid who needs one best friend. Thankfully she and two other new girls ended up in the same class. The three quickly became good friends...hanging out together, sharing secrets....having fun. 

A few weeks ago she told me one of the girls had applied to go to another school next Fall...a school for advanced kids. I asked her if she wanted to go also..she said she didn't know and besides the other girl would still be at this school. Tonight she told me the other girl has applied too. I asked her if she wanted to apply now. She kept saying she didn't know. She's worried about another change....she's worried about the two kids she feels the closest with leaving. 

When she's worried, she can't think....she starts saying, I don't know a lot. I kept thinking about her feeling lost in the school without those girls. The more she said she didn't know....the more my fears escalated. And then I got angry.

She's a great kid....a thinker...and pretty smart....usually scores high marks....but she's shy when she doesn't know people well. Once she does....she's a ton of fun. 

I thought of her on the first day of school last September. I had dropped her off and watched her. You scared? She nodded and then tears rolled down her cheeks. I won't leave you. I walked to her locker and hung around and met the teacher, and then those new girls came in and the three sat together. I left her that morning feeling like my heart was being crushed. 

My daughter's an awesome kid. I hate that I got angry. She was already feeling scared and I made it worse. After a few minutes - I told her I wasn't mad at her....I was just afraid....and that somehow it'll work out and be ok. I want to protect her....I don't want her to hurt...to feel pain...or fear...or worse - have that awful feeling of being lost...

Funny think about love....sometimes it hurts. It hurts so bad.  I have to remember my daughter is growing up different than I did. She's got love and supports...and a family - she's not alone and doesn't have to fight to survive the way I did. And she's got a steadiness in her....an inner strength. I know she'll be ok and we figured out there are some options....there's always options.

Letting Love In

"To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides." David Viscott

 

For a long time I was afraid to love....anyone or anything. I didn't want to get hurt. I was afraid it or them would be taken away. Anytime someone showed they cared - or wanted to get close - I pushed them away - making excuses - leaving. And I never let myself get attached to things. I didn't think they would last either.

But not loving anything or anyone left me feeling alone and empty. That deep hunger for love and being too afraid was a vicious cycle that churned and gnawed inside me - It made me feel like an outsider - not really living. Fear won out for a long time.  


People called me a risk taker. I never knew....to love is to take a risk. Writing, blogging....opened my heart. I don't know how that happened. I wrote the truth - I wrote what I could never say. I wrote and kept writing...Something happened. A light turned on. The heaviness began to lift. The shame didn't feel so intense. I let people look in my eyes - and I could stay in their presence a bit longer. 

Somebody knew. You guys knew. No one had ever said what I lived was awful. I had tried to fight it - to not let it be so big. No one had told me it was bad - no one had said they were sorry it happened. People are saying it now - And that was the key that turned the lock on my heart. I feel a softness inside - a vulnerabilty that wasn't there before - I'm letting people in my world - I'm letting people care - and I'm letting them stay.


I always cared about people - I didn't want anyone to be hurt or afraid - but to care....really care...I'm learning you have to let them love you back....and not be afraid to take a risk.

Love - it started with Him - somehow He cut through all the layers that padded and hid my heart - all the layers that kept the light out  -  I want to love and let others love me back. I want to live free and be a part of life - not an outsider afraid to join in - and I want to give back in ways that make a difference  -

Survival

"I preached to gangs on the streets of Manhattan, Brooklyn and the Bronx - and miracles began to happen." David Wilkerson

     Living on the streets taught me how to survive.  I learned to fight - to get my needs met.

     I rarely had money. When I did - I spent most of it on drugs. A few social workers went to bat for me - arranged to get me bus tickets, food and even clothes. And there was a guy who worked in the kitchen of this Greek restaurant. I'd go see him usually after suppertime. He always had packages of leftover food for me and bones for my dog. When it got really cold out, I went to this downtown shop and the owners let me sleep in the back of their store.

     Surviving. I got really good at it. I figured things out - how to live - how to get by....How to fight for what I needed.

    But there were things about living on the street that was too hard - things that nearly broke me - the creeps, the jerks, the slimy individuals who wanted to take advantage of anyone vulnerable. I felt like prey to them - an animal being stalked - I kept my distance but sometimes, in my naivity, I trusted the sleekness of their words......

     I used to go to this downtown Christian bookstore to shoot up.Their bathroom was clean and they never hasseled me. They were kind and always let me use their washroom. I wonder if they prayed for me. I bet they did. 
     A social worker helped me get off the streets. She set me up in my own apartment. She even managed to furnish it.  One night I sat on the coach in that apartment wanting to shoot up. I was already pretty stoned.  I accidently dropped the lit match. Within seconds the sofa became engulfed in flames. It spread rapidly through that little apartment including all around the doorway. 

     I sat on the floor stunned - listening to the crackling sounds of the flames and the popping and crashing as things broke from the intense heat. I kept coughing from the overwhelming black smoke filling the room, but I didn't move. I didn't try to get out.  I heard a clear voice tell me he knew and I knew so burn baby burn. I kept asking him to tell me what I knew but he just kept repeating he knew and I knew so burn baby burn. 
     Later - I found out that whole apartment had been gutted by the fire. Completely destroyed. The apartment below and the ones next door were not touched by the flames at all.  

     Survival. The streets taught me that. Grace. That's what God taught me. I lived because of His grace. I survived the streets, the fire and so many other horrible things. His grace. It went so far down to pull me out. 
     Survival. I learned to fight on the street. Grace. He taught me love.

"Faith is like radar that sees through the fog - the reality of things at a distance that the human eye cannot see." Corrie Ten Boom."

Since we moved, I've been a mess - really tired and totally frustrated. A few things went wrong and I buckled. I don't like me when I'm like this. It feels too much like the old me - wild - on edge - out of control. I hate the clutter. I hate the boxes. I need order. I need space with things put away. My head knows it will happen in time but I also can't find things. Like the card the publisher gave me at the writing conference. He told me to call him. He told me he wanted to help me. I can't find his card. I want to give up.

As I drove to work I prayed. I put the music on full blast. Music that sang of God's love and care. I started to calm down. I hadn't prayed since we moved. Too much confusion. Too much chaos.

"God, where did I put that card?" The thought jumped in my head, 'the green pencil case.' The green pencil case? Ok then, where did I put that pencil case? Silence. All day, I thought of that pencil case. All day I wondered where I had put it. Came home. Told my daughter and said it could be in one of a gazillion boxes. She opened up one and pulled out a green pencil case. "This it?" she asked. We opened it and there was the publisher's card.

The missing piece for me - Prayer. Trust. Faith that God knows. He's with me. Even in the chaos. Even in the mess.

Closing my eyes I see myself fighting to survive. Fighting to get away from people who are hurting me - climbing a six foot fence in the middle of winter, with no shoes desperate to escape - cowering under the blows of my father's hands - cringing from the stick my mother beat me with - fighting myself - throwing up, cutting and biting my arms, shooting dope - getting high to numb out - forcing myself to be strong, to not buckle - to stay alive.

I feel God's love. His care. The gentleness of His touch. Stop fighting I tell myself. You don't need to fight anymore. For today, it's ok again. For today, I can trust. And breathe. And know He is with me. I can let go and still be safe.

Hunger for Love and Acceptance

"Hunger is not only for a piece of bread, but for love. Homelessness is not only not having a home, but for being rejected and unwanted." Mother Theresa

For years I walked around with a profound sense of homesickness, an inner ache, a desperate yearning to go home. I felt it deep inside my gut and for years, I couldn't shake that twisting knotting in the pit of my stomach. Nothing took it away, - not relationships, not material things, not drugs, - nothing. I think now it was a hunger, a ravenous hunger for love and acceptance.

Everything I had been taught, told me I was nothing, worthless, bad. Images constantly rolled over in my head of my father spitting at me when he was in his rages, calling me names - garbage, retarded, worthless, - picking up furniture and throwing it at me, punching and slapping me and telling me it hurt him more than it hurt me; .....my mother beating me with a stick, teasing me, telling me I was stupid, an idiot, I couldn't talk right, walk right, breath right....I often wondered what was wrong with me that they hated me so much.

I wandered the streets, shooting dope, sometimes three and four times a day. I didn't care. My friend who I shot up kept telling me I wasn't shooting to get high, I was shooting to kill myself. He was right. I believed I had no right to exist.

One day I was in a fire. It was my fault. I accidently dropped the lit match I used to heat up the dope. My dog saved me. She grabbed me with her teeth and pulled me onto the balcony. A cop who had been looking out for me, heard what happened and came to see me at the hospital. He bought me clothes and when I was discharged, rented a place for us to move into together. He tried to help me. He told me over and over he loved me but I couldn't feel it. I didn't understand what he was saying. The amount of self-loathing I had was stronger than his love.

While I was with him, I was pulled into the rapist's house. He held me there for six months. He told me he loved me but he wouldn't let me go. And he hurt me. He hurt me really badly. Somehow I survived. I don't know how but I did. I never told anyone what happened or where I had been. I thought I deserved it. I thought it was my fault.

Then God touched me; cut through the pain, broke the chains holding me so tight. He took away the drug addiction but not the deep ache inside. That didn't go away. I couldn't let people get close. They would see what I knew, - they would see how worthless I was.

God never gave up on me. His love was so gentle. Some days I didn't care if He killed me. On those days when I felt wild, out of control, - when I ripped razor blades down my arms, or punched my head to make the memories stop, or held my head over the toilet throwing up over and over and over because I didn't believe I had the right to eat or live, - He was there, beside me, waiting. He never let me go. He waited. He stayed. Some days, I begged Him to kill me, to let me go but He didn't. He waited patiently. He waited until I was ready.

I live with gratitude, - gratitude that God didn't listen to me, that He let me live, that somehow He freed me.

I owe my life to Him. He broke through the emptiness and the pain and helped me to feel His love. I feel it. I feel it all the time. That feeling of homesickness is gone. That sense I'm worthless, garbage, - gone.

I want to help other people find freedom. I want them to know what I found out, that there is hope and there is freedom and God's love can break through anything and redeem it. Most of my friends have no idea what I lived. I don't want them to know but something inside me is compelling me to tell, - I think it's my love for God, my gratitude to Him. I need to tell.

"Love is not a feeling. It's a behaviour." Oprah Winfrey

'I love you,' my father said. Then he beat me and called me filthy names. 'I love you,' my father said. Then he locked me alone in the car for hours in the worst part of town. 'I love you,' my father said. Then he shoved his fist in my face and forced me to eat even when I kept throwing up. 'I love you,' my father said. Then he held me down on the bed.......

'I love you,' the rapist said. Then he punched me so hard, my spleen ruptured. 'I love you,' the rapist said. Then he held me down and did what he wanted. 'I love you,' the rapist said. Then he locked me in a cold dark room and wouldn't let me go.

'I love you,' God said. Then He patiently waited until I was ready to trust Him. 'I love you,' God said. Then He broke the hold of the drug addiction. 'I love you,' God said. Then He calmed my anger and hatred. 'I love you,' God said. Then He healed my heart with His gentle touch. 'I love you,' God said. Then He freed me from the shame and fear.

Just because someone claims they love you, doesn't mean they really do. I think the wires in my head got all mixed up when I was a kid. I thought what happened was normal, that everyone lived on edge, fighting to avoid getting beaten, living like someone in a war zone, in chaos, tension and confusion. I believed whatever happened was because something was wrong with me. I didn't know what was being done was wrong. I didn't know they had no right to do what they did. All I knew was it made me crazy. It made me want to punish myself in ways that nearly killed me. It pushed me over the edge, making me act impulsively, full of anger and not caring what happened.

But then I learned love doesn't hurt. I learned it's patient, kind and forgiving. I learned it's not jealous or full of pride or resentful or rude or demanding of its own way.

I never knew. No one had told me or showed me the truth about love. I figured it out as I went, but I had figured it out all wrong. Then God touched me and He showed me. He brought safe people into my life, but I resisted them, pushing them away, still needing to hide, afraid of getting hurt, not trusting. It took so long. But then I got it.

When love is real, not only does it not hurt, but it's like a balm that feels soothing on the inside and brings amazing healing and relief. I learned love doesn't keep a list of wrongs, so I chose to forgive and move forward. I want to shine so others can feel the touch of love from me. I want my life to reflect the truth of what love really is and find healing and freedom in their lives.

The Hunger for Love

"The hunger for love is much more difficult to remove than the hunger for bread." Mother Theresa

How easy it is to take advantage of someone who is hungering for love. How wonderful though, to provide a hungry soul with kindness for his or her journey. I want to live my life in order to touch people at the point of their need and to make a difference.