Newfound Wisdom

Dad handed me the carefully folded, familiar lined paper to which I have come to anticipate and treasure. Snatching it from his hand, I quietly settle into my favorite chair and begin envisioning the world of the writer behind those beautifully penciled words that now rest on the page before me. It reads:

“Daily bombarded by my darkest obsession, without it I spiral into deadly depression. Temptations surround me to attack when I’m weak, convincing me drugs provide the love that I seek. Roped in by the Devil my life was consumed, deceptively blinded feeling hopelessly doomed. With no sense of direction or intention to quit, I found myself unable to climb out of this pit. Through support of my family to treatment I went, cautious and nervous to grab the hand that was lent. It was there I was told if I don’t cease to be done, the next stage was death to a life which I only get one. Through fear and humility I took a good inward look, devastated and embarrassed of the actions in which I partook. My newly found knowledge helped me turn things around, I thank God for the happiness in sobriety I’ve found.”

It is through words like these that I reflect back to a precious little girl, with a twinkle in her eye, whose thoughts and words were beyond her years even as a child. One might consider that a curse, but I think it a blessing for the tapestry of life is threaded in many directions before the Master artist lays down the final stitch.

Anticipation

Much compared to a child opening a gift on Christmas Day, I anticipate the time between visits with wonder and excitement. The ride there is like holding a present on my lap and waiting for someone to tell me it’s my turn to open…all the while trying to guess what mystery lies beneath the wrapping.

As if on cue, the door opens and I can hardly contain myself when I see  before me those beautiful blue eyes, each time becoming more clear and bright. Your smile warms my heart and chips away at the rough edges that have calcified throughout the years.

Carefully peeling back the tape from the imaginary package I hold on my lap, you share with me the excitement that, after a long wait list, you finally have a sponsor. My shoulders relax and I smile with gratitude and praise for another answered prayer. The wrapping is torn in one section as you unveil your feelings of depression. I believe God allows us to hit those low times as a gentle reminder to keep looking up and reach for His outstretched hand. It brings to light one of my favorite sayings, “If you don’t feel close to God…guessed who moved?”

Our visit is brief but I rejoice in the fact there is a visit. Many parents of addicts never get that chance because, more than not, the drugs win and steal away the lives of their children. Keep placing those stepping-stones atop each other, and I will bring back my package and together we can unwrap the gift within.

Hidden Feelings

I’ve always loved to write poetry. Expressing myself through words gives me the freedom to be who I am from the inside out. My daughter has been blessed with this same gift and writes…

“I admire my mother, her strength and grace; a tender-hearted woman with a warm embrace. Passionate and caring, she’ll help you when you’re low; amazing creativity, she can really draw and sew. Fully devoted to Christ Jesus, she follows in His ways; she cheers me up when I am sad, I’ll love her all my days. She cooks, she cleans and loves us dear, she really does it all; underneath she’s Super Woman, and she’s only five-foot tall. She’d tuck me in then it’s..itchy, nee, sun she’d go; and if I asked for one more Willard story, she never could say no. She taught me how to read and write, and even ride a bike; often when she tried to sing, the Furbie, ‘Me no like!’ I love all she does for me, couldn’t ask for a better mother; She’s one of a kind and she’s all mine, there will never be another. I love you, mommy.”

Though everyone handles hardship in their own way, facing our demons can be both a painful and powerful process. My daughter shared with me the other night that she was thankful for jail. Curious to her response, I asked her why. She proceeded to tell me that had she not gotten to this point in her life, she would never had known the joy of sobriety.

Another lovely poem she bestowed upon me…

“Mother Dearest–You gave me life, I gave you strife. You taught me right, I began to fight. You wanted respect, your wishes I’d reject. You showed me God’s light, drugs blinded my sight. You prayed I’d recover, I ran off with a lover. I put you through hell, you handled it well. I pushed you away, you heartily stay. I am lonesome and meek, your compassion I seek. I love you forever, a new future WE endeavor! –I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always…as long as I’m living my mommy you’ll be!”

I’ll love you as well, my child.

Never Alone

Newly inspired by these heartfelt words, I marvel at her inward strength to strategically place stepping-stones beneath her feet as she journey’s upward from the depths of a darkened hole. One such stone came in the form of a Gratitude List that completely filled the space of paper on which she wrote it. My heart smiled to see God appear at the very top of the list followed by sobriety, parents, etc. Our journey continues, one step at a time.

“To My Precious Baby Girl…God gave you life, and blessed my womb; A gift so grand, a heart consumed. Each day you grow, my insides melt; A joy within, deep love is felt. The gift of you, has taught me much; To handle life, a tender touch. My prayer for you, please find the One; Who gave you life, and do not run. For He is there, no matter what; To care for you, when life’s wounds cut. Remember now, with each new day; I love you more, in every way. The past is gone, we can’t go back; Tomorrow’s dream, our wisdom lack. We have today, a gift so rare; Let’s hold it near, our hearts to bare. And give Him praise, on hand and knee; For gifts of love, for you and me.”

Keep your letters coming, I treasure every word.

The Silence Is Broken

The path to mending a tattered and torn heart can be a rugged course that leaves one both physically and emotionally exhausted. This road to healing requires time, patience, understanding and, more importantly, forgiveness…obstacles that seem enormous when the walls of anger and bitterness block us from reaching those guideposts.

It had been several weeks that I remained in the depths of sadness without any communication with my daughter. I could sense her spirit was cold and a darkness hovered over her soul. Perhaps it was my own fear that kept this distance between us but I was numb to move forward.

A poem arrived penciled in her handwriting and I cautiously began to read:

“Mom–I know lately I’ve pissed you off, like you’re going out of style; but when I see my belly button, I cannot help but smile. The deepest, best connection that you and I once shared; our relationship is damaged, because I’ve been impaired. I want so bad to mend it, but I don’t know where to start; I love you so much mommy, from the bottom of my heart. I know I’ve made mistakes, and I hurt you in doing so; the selfish things I’ve done, I never thought I’d stoop so low. One day I hope we can move forward, because nothing can undo; no one in the world, could ever mean more to me than you. As a mother, wife and daughter, you do so much for us; I see how immature I’ve been, when I would fuss or cuss. This is my apology, the only way that I know how; if you accept, by the grace of God, a new journey we walk now. I’m sorry I always made things hard, and rebelled to what you asked; from reality I was blinded, and my consequences masked. Take the lead and guide me, for I am a long lost soul; your outreached hand could be, the one to pull me out this hole. Love Always, Your Baby Girl”

My eyes had swollen up with tears and overflowed onto the page before me. The healing process begins.

I quickly grabbed my pen and answered back her words:

“To My Sweet Baby Girl–The connection shared, my daughter dear, is as deep as love can be. My hand has always been right there, though sometimes hard to see. The path you chose turned murky gray, and sucked you from my grip. I fought to find my way to you, but the ground began to slip. The ache I felt when you were no more, the little girl that I knew. For drugs had taken over her, yet there was one thing I could do. I bowed my head and prayed to God, ‘I know You have a plan. Please bring my baby back to me, I’m trusting that you can.’ The hope I have you’ll change your ways, is left in your control. But know my hand is there for you, when you climb up from that hole. With All My Love, Mom”

The Ultimate Bond

Those walls that hold you prisoner, are bitter-sweet at most – A temporary safety zone, lest anyone should boast.

You have not ample access, to the drugs that stung your veins – A crushing blow to innocence now marred by bitter pains.

The life that brought you to this place, was based on false desires – A demon’s plan to capture souls and toss them to the fires.

The weight of darkness blinds your sight, as you cover up your face – A chance for God to comfort you and pour out His loving grace.

Your yesterdays are lost and gone, and tomorrows are yet to be – A treasure box now placed by you, the keeper of the key.

Praying for you daily, my sweet child, and I cannot wait to see how the beautiful tapestry of your life will be unveiled. Congratulations on 66 days of sobriety.

Soul Thoughts

Can your heart contain so much love for a child that when you hold them closely, it is but one heartbeat you feel and hear? I believe this to be true because our united pulse continues to  resonate deep within the cavity of my soul as though it were yesterday. The journey begins.

Night after night, I reached for her small slumbering body, cuddled her tight to my chest and vowed, by the grace of God, to protect this precious gift He so graciously bestowed upon us. I  dreamt of her future, anticipated our late night talks and smiled at the memories to come.

Our vision for her life was that of a pristine and polished window. As expected, with the passing of time, small smudges and wear-marks began to appear from each storm that beat heavily against the glass. We did our best to wipe it clean and shined what we could from the outside, but the affects took its toll and our efforts seemed futile. The window view became distorted and we slowly lost sight of the one looking out from behind the glass. I held my hand tight to the window. Though it became more difficult to see her through the darkness, I knew she was there because and I felt her heart beating, beckoning for help from an unknown world which consumed her.

She now lives away from us in a cell that only listens but cannot speak of the many tears it has witnessed or the heartache that bleeds through its dampened walls. We continue to work on shining our side of the window so that when she makes her way back to the light, with polish in hand, we will see clearly the love that binds us so deeply. My hand remains upon the glass.