She Rises

The wobbly first step appears to be the most difficult, but becomes the most exhilarating.  Something unknown, yet the toddler fills with life.  Her curiosity erases her fear.

She launches.

The awkward first blast from the sprinter's starting blocks looks embarrassing, but is alive with excitement and anticipation.  Blinded with wind in her eyes, yet the young athlete pushes forward, overflowing with determination.  She shows no shame.

She blasts.

The clumsy first dance on the eve of a social gathering seems humiliating.  Experiencing young love, the girl sees only the eyes of her date; the one she hopes will be her first real kiss--the kiss that counts.  She is complete in her thoughts and her dreams.  She understands no judgment.

She floats.

The unstable brave step out of an abuser's prison proves a shattering event, but grows into a move based on faith.  Horrified that she has found herself in this place, she slowly allows self-forgiveness.  She realizes she can move on and heal.  She knows no limits.

She rises.

Six Inch Squares

Most mornings were peaceful.  She would set her coffee pot for brew the night before and pre-pack her car with school supplies for her children.  Before waking the kids, she often read her Bible at the kitchen table with only the light from the stove. 

The last few months were far removed from these mornings.  She had been taking different routes on her daily errands and this morning she had decided to pack clothes and medicine for her children in place of their backpacks.  Her cell phone was stuffed under her left arm in her bra so her husband wouldn't take and "dismantle" it as he had been threatening.  Under her right breast was a small amount of cash.  Deep in the front pockets of her jeans, which she had been sleeping in for over a week, were her car keys, a pocket knife, her driver's license and a credit card.  Her can of mace was at the bottom of her purse.  She usually slept only a few hours a night.  Now she stayed awake, lying still, afraid she would move too soon.  She was preparing, getting "mission ready."

Six inch squares.  This was her military training.  She was folding the tiny t-shirts into six inch squares and aligning them in a small stack.  "Flush and grounded" was the term the Air Force used when stacking clothes in a drawer.  She automatically stowed the clothes in the duffle bag in the trunk of her car in this military fashion.  The car was parked in the garage, the lights off, morning peaking through dusty blinds.  The duffle bag was large enough for her to crawl into and was already packed with the nebulizer, a machine that blew air through a clear tube to a small cup of medicine, creating a mist of steroids to be inhaled, allowing her son to breathe.  Tucked next to the neb machine was the pacemaker tester, a device that hooked to her other son's chest and allowed a hospital in Chicago to monitor his heart.  She needed enough clothing and supplies for herself and her three sons.  Enough for a week.

Her feet sounded like wet splats with each step across the concrete as she padded back and forth.  She could hear her own breath, crackly and shallow as she tried to keep quiet and not stir the children.  She looked over her shoulder, and shimmied against the door post, pausing to listen before entering the house.  Another training technique to "check your six o'clock", searching for the enemy should he be plotting another attack. 

"Part the sea, God, please," her prayer became a common request.

She had remembered to brush her teeth, but had forgotten to comb her hair.

Numbness

My right arm has been numb for over a week.  I thought it was a neck thing from an old Air Force-related problem, but it was really a chest thing, a muscle thing, from carrying my new baby.  All right, he isn't new anymore.  Almost a toddler.  But the muscles in the front of my body are tightening to the point of tearing.

Like my arm, my heart and life have been numb.  I thought this was from trauma, the pain in my childhood, the tragedies from long ago.

Again I was wrong.

This numbness is acute not chronic.  Denial.  A refusal to look at the damaging things that have happen directly in front of me.  I have been witness to my own tragedies as though an audience attendant instead of a participant.

The numbness is both a safeguard and an illusion.  And the damage from allowing this disability to remain once I was aware it existed is far more harmful than the original destruction incurred.

If my hand is without feeling, it can easily be burned by fire, frostbitten and destroyed without any awareness on my part.

If my heart is numb, it too can be burned, scarred and mutilated--beyond its original shape and design.

I must show up to guard my heart.

I must un-numb myself.

Staying numb served its purpose, but it disconnected me from me.  It disconnected me from G-d and has inevitably destroyed me.

I now simply strive each day to feel everything and in turn, share those raw emotions with other readers, realizing we are closely linked; not far removed one from another.  Realizing that when we feel instead of living in numbness, we heal.

Rejection

Why do we seek that which rejects us, like the moth drawn into the deadly flame?

We feel the singe, even smell our own flesh burning, yet we reach towards that destructive fire.

Once burned, most of us will never touch that flame again.  We've been melted beyond recognition, even to ourselves.

It is the yearning, the desire, the ache that splinters up the wrist bones into our jaws.  It is the fact that we want that which distances itself from us.

I've experienced this more than once.  When I was a little girl I sought the admiration and attention of my abuser.  As I grew into my own skin, this behavior became a bit like a competition...

"Let me see if I can get THAT one to like me."

"I can change him."

It was as though I became the ALL-GREAT-AND-MIGHTY-POWERFUL Wizard of Oz.

And, in a sense, I did.

Like him, I am small, hidden behind a curtain of shame and doubt and pain and brokeness. 

I am waiting for the call.  You know the one--the place you set your phone--directly in front of you and pretend you are busy with the rest of your life all the while praying it will ring. 

I have once again sought the Rejector and am now standing alone in a light drizzle so cold my toes curl into my shoes, cramping the arches of my feet.

I am learning to stay in this place, my teeth chattering as I seek the only one who has never rejected me--my G-d.

What would He say to me if I stopped and listened?

"Child of mine, you are leaping when you need to be still. 

You are screaming when you need silence. 

You are opening old wounds when you need to heal. 

You are broken, but if you let go, I will cast you into a new design and you will heal whole.

I have provided for all your needs.

You need no other.

No one can do for you that which I can.

Trust in me for I am with you.

You are never alone.

Your heart has spoken to me and you have heard My answer to your question--if you were provided for, what would your life be like?

You would write.
You would paint walls.
You would create.
You would plant gardens.
You would embrace your children every waking moment.

You would not wait on another.

You would not wait for a phone call when you indeed have a much greater call.

Listen to me, my child and you will hear your call.

Watch what brings back your breath.

See what brings about your light.

Embrace these things for they are my messengers to remind you that I am here.

There is a light for you to follow.  Open your eyes, turn off the phone, take a deep breath.

Do not be molded by others' desires of you and for you.  Keep your eyes on me. 

Go inside for a time.  Focus.

Do not be willing to become most anything to be unrejected.

Instead, be willing to become what I have in mind for you."

AWOKE

I awoke

still empty somewhere inside
though surrounded by men in my daily life.

I awoke

and

realized

this was no dream.

I awoke

and

realized

that I needed to abandon a hope such as this,
knowing my vision may materialize,
I cannot wish it into place.

My power alone is not strong enough.

I awoke

and

realized

this passion cannot be of my will.

So I dreamed instead

and

let go,

just so I could wake up.