Trying Not to Call

This is a portion of a letter that Brennan Manning received from Betty Fusco. He elaborates on it in his book, The Wisdom of Tenderness.

Why, God?Can't you feel our pain? Do you really know how much we hurt?
When Joseph died, what did Mary and Jesus do? Was not their hurt so great
that they covered their faces with ashes, cried out in loud voices with weeping
and wailing, rent their clothes, and hired mourners to follow the body in the
traditional Hebrew fashion of mourning the dead?

And was it in this same Hebrew fashion that on Good Friday, the Father covered his face with ashes-the darkness of midday, the eclipse of the sun?

His earth screamed and groaned in the agony of an earthquake
upheaval-the earth trembled and shook-rocks split and mountains
fell-he cried out in a loud voice.

He wept-springs burst forth from the splits in the earth;rivers ran
wild as their natural courses were changed.

He rent his clothing: the curtain of the sanctuary, the Holy of Holies,
the place no one entered, the traditional Hebrew dwelling place of God
was torn from top to bottom.

He sent mourners to follow the body. "Tombs opened and many holy men
rose from the dead. And after Jesus' resurrection they came forth from the
tombs and entered the holy city and appeared to a number of people"
(Matt.27:53).

"Oh yes, Father, you know, for did you not shed tears and intone the
lament to show your own deep grief and observe the mourning for a
day or two and then were comforted in your sorrow" (Sir.38:16-18).

The Father knows.

So I will not call Steve, I will call on the Father instead.

Torrential Rain

I'm walking through my day today: school, studying(not really), babysitting little Lola, last minute items for the evening's torture, oh I mean festivities, spending too much( that I don't have) on candy, delivering caramel apples to #5's school, finishing a pumpkin #3 didn't have the patience to finish last night, trying to clean the house(I could swear it was clean last night), dinner?(the eternal question),etc.

Inside me: cascading sheets of rain, a thunder crack and it pours faster and harder, the dams are breaking, the landscape flooding, water everywhere. Grief is washing through me, winding it's way through every nook and cranny, on a crashing course that moves everything out of it's way.

I want to crumple down into it and just be washed away with it. Why do I have to keep standing?...

Boys that need me. Boys that do not need the legacy of a mom who quit on them. I'm hanging on to that guys. I don't want to leave you. Somehow we will be lifted up onto dry land. I'll keep holding on until help comes. I promise. I know it seems awful now, but it's gonna be o.k.

At least, that's what they all say.

Missing him

Eight years. Eight years we were together. We were best friends. We did everything together. Even going to the grocery store, he would follow me around and tease me. I know I did the right thing leaving him, but there is such an empty hole left behind. He was my partner in the pack(see previous entry). And when I left, he choose to stay behind. He found another to take my place. I can barely think of it.

I miss him. The pain of this loss is just stripping me bare, taking the breath right out of me.

Another man abandoning my boys. I will never put them through this again. The pain of realizing what I have done to them. The sobering reality of life without a partner, probably for the rest of my life is setting in. People say I'll meet a good man now. Right- a good man that wants to take on 5 sons and a woman without means. I hear in my heart that I will be alone. My only hope for them is trusting that he means what he says when he says he will be a father to the fatherless. Please pray for my sons. They have never known a good man in their life. Hell, I have never known a good man in my life. Do they exist?

Running with the wolves

Once upon a time I was a little lamb, gave my heart and my sins to Jesus and became part of His fold. I was so relieved and I loved my dear Shepherd. I always wanted to be near Him.

After a while, I began hearing rumors, rumors about keeping clean, being good, staying out of trouble or He couldn't love you anymore. He wouldn't let you be by His side anymore until you got cleaned up.

There were so many things I had to do, because this was a destiny I couldn't bear to think about. I got so busy, worked very hard, and the harder I tried, the further away from His side I wandered. I failed over and over-became so discouraged. I felt so different from the rest, because I was struggling with what seemed to come so easily to the other lambs. I will never fit in-it's useless. I couldn't stay in the fold anymore, because I was hopeless. And besides, there is "no rest for the wicked" the other lambs would say.

So I left, wandered off and decided to run with the wolves, they didn't seem to know anything about all this good and bad stuff, sin, rules to follow. I decided this is where a lamb like me belongs. I tried so hard to put the Shepherd out of my mind. I was sure I could become a wolf, adapt to their wild ways, but I could never forget, never ignore it for long. I came to know in my deepest heart that I could never be a wolf, never forget I was a lamb who wandered to far from home. I made a decision to leave the pack. I would never belong there, but how do I find my way back? And will they let me back in when I stand at the gate?I know the other sheep will tell me to go away. I will stand and bleat and bleat with my little broken lamb's heart until He comes.

For now, I stand alone. The wolves come at night and howl outside my door, calling me to come and run, but now I know, now I can see. They just want something to devour.

I hear the rumble

In his sidebar at So I Go Now, Jeff shares his image of the Jesus of our day.The Rider. I can't get it out of my mind.
I call out for Him, "Jesus, where are you?" He says,"don't you hear the rumble darling?" He wants to take me for a ride, but oh, I can't. I won't be able to look him in the eye,won't be able to lift my head, because I am ashamed. I am the woman at the well, the adultress waiting for the first stone, the woman with the "issue" who just wanted to touch his robe, I am Magdalene with the seven demons. Don't you see Jesus? It's all over for me. I have left you too many times, betrayed you like the whore of Hosea.Why would you want the likes of me? I don't want to shame you anymore.

I sit on my porch, torn and yearning. There He is just waiting for me at the curb, reving the motor now and then as if to say "Come unto me, let me give you rest".


(Obviously, I don't know how to create links yet, please forgive, but do find this blog)


Pain

Learning to deal with pain. Hmmm. It's a toughie and not something I've ever wanted to do, hence addictions of various kinds and mental illness galore.

I am feeling pain, I am going through pain. I am believing everyone who says there is another side to it. I want to grow up. I want to get better and I realize there is no way to get there but by going through this. One day at a time.

LIttle Inklings

Little inklings today, of more-of something deeper, something richer. Of purpose and meaning. All the ingredients of my life, a big mosh dumped together, finally being mixed up into something. Yes, lots of stirring going on-can hardly believe it.

See this guy's blog, oh my goodness:http://soigonow.blogspot.com/

Listen to this, Les Choriste- a soundtrack, oh my, my goodness

hangin' on by the fingertips

I don't have much to say really, I just want to keep up with this and be consistent with it whether it's anything significant or not. As much as I'm tempted to isolate, I have to stay connected. I am just terrible at this loneliness thing. The feeling of being all alone in the world sneaks up on me sometimes and just swallows me whole.

I've been better lately. It seems like I've made it over the hump as far as the crying goes and I've made a few steps forward into this unknown new world. It's a tightrope, but okay as long as I don't look down.

I'm still making my way through school and doing pretty well so far. Things are going to get much harder now that the research project is heating up and I have another research paper coming up too. Tonight I have to finish the introduction section for my project and I'm panicking somewhat. I have the information, but just can't seem to put it together. It's due tomorrow and we also have a test tomorrow so I'm feeling the usual procrastinator's pinch. I go back and forth between freaking out and saying "I can't do this", to deep breaths, and "Okay, I've got this covered". It's the old "act as if" technique. Act as if you are a calm, competent college student who takes a silly paper in stride. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! I hate anxiety!

Pray for drummer boy. He has been so depressed and irritable lately and he won't tell me what's going on. In fact, he won't talk to me at all. This weekend the Booster club is honoring the senior soccer players and parents at the game. I feel the lump in my throat already. I can't believe he's going to be graduating this year. I have no idea how to do all this senior "stuff"-pictures, colleges, etc. As much as he drives me nuts, I will miss him so.

Can't sleep for crying

It's 2am. I woke up crying and can't stop.It seeps out of me like blood from a deep wound,pumping with each beat of the heart. I miss him. He doesn't want to even see me anymore because I'm such a mess.He makes love to someone else now. The sickest part is that it's the frenzy of a baby whose mother is pushing it away. The one who would comfort you doesn't want you anymore-turns cold, becomes a stranger, doesn'
t remember you anymore. Where once there was an open door, is now, a brick wall with no way around it. Eventually, the baby stops crying, stops struggling and pleading. lays down to die in a stupor of neglect. It is a sick joke to let someone trust you, and then once they do, humiliate them with it-act like you don't know what they're talking about. Oh, how funny, you thought I loved you. It's horrifying to realize you've been had, betrayed, set up,made the fool. The shame of it. Letting someone see your need, feel your vulnerability,touch your weakness and then stab you in the back with it. What remains after this? You begin to disappear from the inside out, a pernicious shriveling, until there is nothing left but a shell. I'm still trying to find my mom, aren't I? Still trying to find a lap that will welcome me. A face that will recognize me. There's a ghost of a child roaming around inside. Can't be laid to rest until she finds her mom. She can't find her anywhere, so she wails and screams,cries the possessed sobs of mourning. I want to help her. I want her to be at peace. She is looking for something that has been gone so long. Somehow she won't accept it. How to comfort this little one?

oh help

My heart is rent-like the veil, split down the middle-in pieces-passing away. Will I see God now? Will this usher me in at last to the place that I've looked for my whole life-that holy of holies. Is this when I'm gonna get it-that Jesus died for this rent heart. I've been told I have a new life ahead of me. Now that Steve's really gone, it will be better. I don't believe it yet. I can't see it. I can't see anything. I'm about as lost as a soul could be. I miss him so much and I don't want to believe that he's not coming back, that he won't love me anymore, that I'm alone now. I don't know how to live life without him anymore.

Yes, the word idolatry comes to mind. He was a god I could see and feel and touch. He was there when I was sad, and sick, and crazy-when I didn't know what to do. He was there. He would fix it. He held me,and stroked my hair, and told me everything was gonna be okay. He called me "baby girl". He told me I was beautiful, that I made him want to be a better man. He took care of me.He defended me. I had moments of melting into trust and security like I had never known. What did I have to give in return? My life, my soul, my very self and I paid it too. Anything to have the smallest drop of love and affection. I know it wasn't real love, on his part or mine. I think I always knew, but I was good at pretending and wishing. It was selfish and desperate-a twisted give and take.

And I am alone. I have no friends here really, not friends that I could lean on. No family, no one who isn't paid to be in my life. Alyson comes to see me. She's helping me live the days. She steadies me when I don't want to live or breathe another breath. I know she cares. She is a godsend, but I can't get too attached, because ultimately, she's an illusion. A friend who can't really be my friend. I was watching a show with Seth the other night about a woman who raises these little orphaned kangaroos. She couldn't let the little ones become to attached because they were to be released back into the wild when they were ready. This is my terror-that I can't be attached to these dear people who have been so good to me, who have saved my life in a way because I'm going to have to be released back into the wild of this terrifying world and make my way on my own. I don't know how to stand on my own. I've always had someone taking care of me, helping me, rescuing me, making the way easier. I'm so afraid and lost and deeply, deeply ashamed of my inadequacy. It is a wound that never healed properly, that wasn't attended to, that has left me defective, crippled, an oddity-a grown woman who can't take care of herself or her children. A grown woman who still needs mothering. I don't feel 42, I feel 8 and so small. I am bereft, without comfort and inconsolable. Abandoned.Alone. I could call out,please, please don't leave me. I could beg and plead and still there will be no one. No one. Little children should not be left alone to their grief. I may be 42, but there is a little child in me who is feeling the loss of her only hope and comfort in life all over again, actually, finally feeling it for the first time. It takes me over, wave after wave until I can't breathe. Please don't leave me here-please let me go with you. Where are you? Oh my God, I despise my weakness and need. How does a person go out into the world without first knowing the comfort and security of being loved? It's magnetic, a pull to find something that isn't there, that never will be there, that can never be there.
I know, I know, God is the only one who can heal a thing like that. Right? Well, I can't find God. ANYWHERE. This is the thing I don't understand. Years of crying alone, calling out with the truest heart I could muster-where are you? What have I done that you can't come to me? I'll be good. Please. I'm sorry God. I need you.

Attempt #3

I believe this is my third attempt at blogging. You know what they say, right? I never know how to get the damn things started though. Do I give background or do I just dive right in. I suppose it all comes out in the wash. I guess the most important thing is that I just start putting words down. It might be a bit of a rough start, so buckle your seatbelts.