So, I have a relatively new experience.  Being accused of something that I didn't do. I feel like I am constantly apologizing for the things that I actually do commit, it's an interesting turn to be apologizing for something that I didn't do. On the plus side, it's sure to keep me humble.  Or suicidal.  So now I'm stuck in a quandary.  To do or not to do. I thought that I was actually doing well, reading my Bible, praying, even writing in the thrice cursed journal.  Maybe that was my problem.  I felt safe too soon. All my abandonment, rejection and other issues have come flailing to the surface.  Maybe it's a good thing.  I don't need to love and trust.  It hurts too much when they decide that I'm not worth the effort and time.  I did hope that this time, someone would care enough to enter my world and stay there.  Oh well.  Such is life.  All of my shields are full and thick, and my defenses are locked and loaded. It's kind of ironic really.  I have so much love and compassion and such a desire to be a helper and love people.  And nowhere to put it into play.  I wish that I could have fixed things with my dad before he died.  Maybe if he and I would have talked iIwouldn't be so broken beyond redemption.

After the attacks on Paris and Beirut, people are afraid. I understand. I think that we can and should be prepared for any unexpected event. But We can't live in fear. The love and power of God conquers fear. Love God, love each other. Live like each day is your last, because we never know when it will be. Whether it, Isis, flood, fire, car wreck, or an umbrella. Only God knows the end of our days , the last footprint we leave on this planet. Leave a legacy of hope and love. . .I pray that I will.  On another note, my sweet and awesome nephew is being deployed on the USS Truman. It deploys from Norfolk, VA to the middle east. Please pray for the hand of God to guide the ship. Help me pray for wisdom and integrity among the crew members and that God will bring them all home safely. That ship carries a priceless treasure of father, sons, nieces, nephews, moms and daughters. #GoNavy

I remember walking  on pins and needles   for most of my childhood, and eventually I tried outright rebellion in the hopes of just getting it over with, because pins and needles are so, so exhausting.

Eventually, I went back to the pins and needles  for a while -- for as long as I could stand it -- until I could not stand the pain of living that way anymore.  There were no boundaries, no set rules.  Any spoken word or inadvertent glance could set my dad off. I'm hoping that God help me to get healing and wholeness. I pray that He redeems my story to help others someday.  And I pray that I can learn how to not parent my children out of my brokenness.  

I took the kidlets to see the movie "Woodlawn"  Saturday night.  The little one fell asleep almost before the first scene, (note to self, leave him with dad next time) . I'm not sure how the middle one felt about it, he said that he liked it, but I'm thinking the subject matter was a little too adult for him. But my teen daughter, who I thought would hate it, she actually loved it. . I will never understand teens.  ☺.  I really don't think I was that confusing when I was one. Lol.

When I look in the mirror, I still see the little girl trying to be perfect to earn my father's love and affection.   I was never certain if he was going to hug me or smack me. Smile at me, ignore me, or punish me for reasons that I didn't understand, could never understand.  One day looking him in the eyes was a sure way to get accused of "being smart" . The next day, not meeting his eyes was a sign of disrespect.  I think I only remember one time that he bought me something himself, I was almost grown, 17 maybe? Christmas and birthday presents were always from Mom.  He bought me a bracelet.  I still have it.  I couldn't believe that he'd gotten it for me. It wasn't even my birthday or anything. .  Pastor Liz always says that "hurt people, hurt people." . I know that is true.  I'm trying so desperately to not pass on the pain patterns, the wounds  that I've received, on to my kids. I want to be a cycle breaker.  Learning to trust in God as father, that he loves me, wants me, has only my best interest at heart, all of these things are daily, sometimes hourly struggles. But I want to get there. I have to get there. Because it's not about me.  It's about teaching my dear little ones that if everyone else in their lives fail them and let them down, God will always be the Rock they can build their foundation on. Build a life on. He is worth living, and worth dying for.

There is a phrase both in the book "The Shack" and in another book that I'm reading. " That we can only trust God to the degree that we are certain of His love for us." I finished reading both books, because I so much hunger to know God as a father. But the very word, "father" makes me flinch inside. It's not a term of endearment to me, but one that conjures up images of pain, anger, shame, and a longing so deep that I feel like I'll never touch bottom. My prayer for the last, idk, few weeks, month, has been for God to reveal His love to me so that I can learn to trust Him. And for Him to please, please not give up on me.  And I want him to help me to remember in the darkness what I have learned in the light. . .

Of hugs and making beds

My littlest guy is a perfectionist.  Or maybe OCD.  To the extreme.  He made his bed yesterday and again today.  I heard him yelling at his older, bigger brother to "get off my bed, get off my bed." . I have no idea what might have happened if his brother hadn't have listened, but I was frightened.  I saw him on the bed several times, making it "just right" . It was already made better than what I would have done.  He had the edges of the covers lined up straight on the bottom of the bed. Who does that??!!  ☺.  So, I'm sharing about the little guy today.  It's amazing, isn't it, how we are such imperfect people, imperfect parents and our children love us anyway? Last night, I suppose he was getting tired because it wasn't his bedtime yet, he told me that he and I needed to go to my bedroom and get under the covers and snuggle. . . I felt my heart melt. When my children, who see me sometimes at my frazzled worst, love me anyway.  An unexpected, "I love you, Mom", a hand hold, a wet, slightly slimy kiss on the check.  Time stops and the whole world seems to hold its breath for that one precious moment.  I wonder, does Father God feel that way, we we come to Him, very immature, broken emotionally and sometimes physically, and worship Him anyway? There is nothing more I can think of that makes me happier than my children's unconditional love and trust.  And that's what He wants, our trust. Our willingness to obey and love Him. Because like our children, we don't always see the bigger picture of why things happen.  Things that may have been set into motion even before our birth. That shape our lives, our future, our family.  Sometimes, we just have to take a deep breath, and let go. And fall into the love of the Father. Trusting that He won't let us go, He won't let us fall.