Months of Activity

The time of challenge is finally mellowing. In August I had a total Knee replacement. After 23 days in a nursing home I was wrecked. I was physically not sexually violated and made to be a threat to the center. They treated me as they liked to remove all credibility they could. This is a common for folks who are survivors left with diagnosis like PTSD. We get labeled by them. They will use all against us, as if we are the week. I was dumb founded at the unethical behavior and filed grievance with the state medical board. Being delivered over to the center while only two days after surgery; papers placed before me with a little check mark in a box that gave them all the legal leverage to do whatever they pleased.
The people on floor were very respectful for the greatest part. It was just too stressful during a time that was set aside for me to heal. So now into my fifth month of recovering my leg my soul is settled better within me. It was an experience I hope to never see anyone repeat. I almost lost the use of my leg due to neglect on top of everything. Left for many hours several times without proper pain medication because they forgot to order it!

Stay with your loved one when you admit them into any care facility. My husband had to work and care for our kids. There was eventually a woman who was an occupational therapist who stood at my side when she too was appalled by the lack of humanity. I fought hard, there was a police man even in my room taking a statement, adult protective services as well. It was an awful mess. It almost broke me. Lies are like that and those with financial defensiveness will stop at nothing to step on another to rise them-self into an unjust stance.

Well now here I am almost half way healed in leg. My mind calmed, my heart returned into full duty as wife and mother. Actually a full time home schooling mother of a 5th and 7th grader. Hard work! I am using a charter online school that supplies the curriculum. We will have aims testing in a few weeks. My children need this time to heal. I was gone for a month and so out of it with medications (knee replacement - PAIN). Pain like you would not believe until at least month four. It is much better than it was but they say it take a year. The kids are asleep on our bedroom floor. They are healing. Before my knee I was diagnosed with the CVID that is every four weeks a six hour infusion of plasma. This was the thing that was slowly killing me. My numbers are up and health is mine with a guarded fourth week as to avoid exposure to infections. Like a true battle to win this has been an enduring fight. The kids see me and they are mindful. They are really wonderful little people with the hardships of attachment deficit disorder. Me going through all of this is hard for them. So they are a major focus. My main main focus.

The day is done and rest is coming to the dark of night. It is a good thing that all the dust is settling.


Months ahead hold many missions, pray I am competent to meet them.

The Versatile Blogger with a Sunshine award

The "sunshine award" ... well just pass it on to 12 of your favourite bloggers...

Thank you from "My Mothers Always Being Me (Being Me)for the award the 'Versatile Blogger' and sunshine awards.
You have to do some 'soul searching' for this one ..

 The rules for " The Versatile Blogger" award are:

1. Thank the person who gave you this award.

2.. Share 7 things about yourself.

3. Pass the award along to 15 bloggers whom you have recently discovered and who you think are fantastic!

4. Contact the bloggers you've picked and let them know about the award.

... 7 things about me

1.  I have a true passion/compassion for all things living (even my enemies). A desire to see it all thrive. It grieves me to think of those who harmed/harm me getting what they deserve. I would rather see them turn and face the consequence of what they have done/do. Perhaps change coarse through sincerity. Stopping the cycle.
2. There is an insatiable thirst for creativity that merges with the core of who I am. I MUST be beading, sewing,gardening, cooking, parenting intentionally, learning at all times. My education was robbed me in youth so I must gain it. Not just intellectually but spiritually and physically as well. What ever it is that interests me it is that I will intentionally study. I believe that everything matters.
3. The delight found in intentional parenting is so profoundly successful. To make every effort to learn everything wholesome about early childhood development. Well... it leaves me with a real good sense of self that I like when seen through my kids. I can often even see it in the mirror of who I have become.
4. Being self sustaining to the greatest extent reasonable brings me mission and leaves me feeling confident (not something I ever knew growing up). I live intentionally.
5. Threw some amazing force bitterness has not filled my heart. This is choice yes...but even so a miracle in my estimation and I am grateful so very very much so. It fulfills a sense of belonging not to separate myself through hardness of heart.
6. When I am confronted or exposed in error it usually leaves me very angry inside. I use this as a pretty accurate indicator that they are right. Now, I can find humor in it most days. It is so funny to me now how child like it is. I find great beauty in the innocence of child like simplicity, even in myself.
7. I thrive on good wholesome foods. Home made from scratch. Organic homegrown produce. We have a few chickens for eggs as well. Cooking is a skill developed over many years and has always been of great interest to me. The main stay of my food is a huge variety of herbs and spices. I love sociology and cook culturally like visiting a new country every meal. Eating pure well prepared foods is one of the first things I began doing so many years ago to take care of "ME" physically.

oh this is a bit overwhelming tonight I will try to get back to it soon.

Forgive me.

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When life killed the dream (fantacy) you dreamed *a partial understanding

This post was written and put on hold for the lesson was at that time yet incomplete and this was written on 11-28-2009from a perspective of partial understanding

 a new post to come


I had a dream my life would be
So different from this hell I'm living,
So different now from what it seemed...
Now life has killed the dream I dreamed...

see post below this post for reference

It is in the ashes and the restoration that the realities of all that we had hoped that our lives might one day become the reality of what we are able to create our lives to be; when those dreams collide they must be assessed and wept over.

I dreamed that I would have a family around the tree at Christmas, the children gathered at the stove or table top. 

I dreamed of the motherhood I so longed for. To do opposite of that which was done to me. I envisioned a home that was decorated just so or a marriage that was pictured in a surrealist view. 

When compared are lives do seem surrealistic to what we made way out of yet...so may of the things we made vow that we would not do or would not become or allow.

We often marry repeating patterns are at best often the pendulum swing making every earnest effort to stop the cycle.

When we find that we have not met those dreams despite every effort and good intention we then must come to see that we have changed our lot as best as able.

Often though without knowledge folk perish.

Reality is that you take your road as far right as possible but without those milestones of youth and young adult hood, without the heritage limitations exist.

Attachment is a struggle. In every life marriages take two and both have hearts that are broken some shattered at best. 

We marry children in essence in grown bodies trying to play adult with every good intention.

Dreams shattered.

Choice.

Choice then is what do we do when we have realized that the life we have now is so different from that image that we fixed our gaze on too to survive.

Dreams are often a star to set focus a gaze while the view before you is unbearable.

Recovering means acceptance.

Acceptance is one of the final steps of grief.

We shift our gaze then from a star a point of focus to endure to a wide angle lens and live.

I see my children now half grown.

Although I have done my God proud I grieve that I have not done my dream better.

He calls to me to see that I have a loss to grieve.

Wounds that I cause them when my words do not match the vision I saw in my heart of what I would say or how I would say it.

That "hell" that we live.

My very heart broken that I do not do those things I long to do and that I do those very things I do not want to do.

With everything we are pushing onto creating; all we long and desire to become.

God sets that force in motion and causes us to become.

It is in His time however that there is peace.

We must actually accept who we are.

Including the limitations that provoke a sort of "hell" within our hearts.

That vision not walking out; as we had so many hours in our youth fantasized over.

A torment that makes us pine and grieve over what we would hoped it could of been.

This is witnessed in those hearts turned hard against a spouse when the dream is hindered or an expectation unmet.

Against our selves when we do not fulfill expectations of who or how we might wish we could or would of been.

Longing to be able to handle any given situation.

My life lived idealized.

Now twenty seven years married and many opportunities to fight so hard against the hindrances those walls that made me kick and claw.

It was my effort to form an architectural design that was a fantasy of my youth.

My life is good yes.

There is though a "hell" within even me.

Where the life I lived... killed the chance for so many dreams.

Yet most of those dreams now are altered.

They were, have been and are revised into something strange and frustrating at times.

Reality is nothing like as it seems.

Idealized life is not reality.

When I say that I am trying to say I can not change what is.

It is the illusion the fantasy that must be cleared from the view.

The idealized notions that leave great mounds of expectations upon myself to fulfill them.

I am to be content in all things.

Then that being the master plan of true happiness how then can I remain discontent because the life I hold looks do differently then what I had hoped it might of become.

An example of this is as in any union there is give and take.

In my vertual reality within my own mind the goals that I spent a lifetime to achieve have little value to those who I thought might have been made happy by them.

I thought in my vision that creating and acquiring a home and an estate was the goal of a union of many years. 

All that accomplished in your late forties  dreams change and unless the idealized life you wished and fought all your life for is achieved one often can become embittered or as in my case left without a dream. This I suppose is much kinder than those horrid consequences of bitterness. 

Even so the loss of that dream can take all wind from ones sail.

A fresh wind is to breath into what is, who we are.

Accepting my own limitations. 

Letting go of idealizing life and grabbing hold of the reality of what life is.

In so doing those walls we kick  become those walls that give us borders. 

Perhaps to tear them down would leave a shipwreck.

This I have witnessed over and over.

We must not only accept who we are in reality but also our spouse and children.

This one is the hardest for us as parents.

What if the lessons we wished we had taught, or what if my husband did not allow them to burp at the table
:)

Would the manners behoove them more than the family humor?
I let go.

It is a grief when as parents those errors or ideals are witnessed as faulting concepts of good intentions.
This must be grieved and let go.

If not.

If not then we must blame. 

We will either blame our self or our spouse for example.

Blame however is a tool of division.

Accepting the loss and moving on removes that strife.

Strife is more harmful than a burp at the table.

It has been our efforts to address strife.

To flee from it and learn to be at peace with all men, especially our enemies
:)

Sometimes I feel lost without the idealized life I thought I would be living at this phase of my life...

It is I think in not letting go of the idealized image and grabbing hold with acceptance of the reality of my life that I find myself lost without direction.

Reality accepted is flush and full of direction and adventure.

Identifying the lies that were ingrained in youth

When I was 16 years old I became very ill. Days had passed no food, and then too many days without fluids.

My mom and dad let me lay on the sofa for days until I was almost dead LITERALLY. They would give me a drink and leave for work in the morning. It is a long painfully lonely story of neglect. Then they found me almost comatose and  took me to the hospital in the dark of night when they had gotten  home from closing the family business. They were afraid they would be in trouble with the law. I could hear them from the front seat talking.
not that i might die..."oh my God", she said "we could loose her!"
You see they were done being parents but I was still a child.

I was a nuisance to them. 

The message that the darkness implanted deep into my soul.

To this day (well maybe yesterday) I have believed this.

I believed that lie that I was a bother and that I was not worth the bother.
That no one would ever take care of me. That I was not worth being taken care of,
I lived my whole life wishing that someone would just take care of me. It was a fantasy that left me medically abused even.
Then I just resigned that it would never happen.
LIES
It is for me to learn how to do that for me. Because I had no example I have to learn how and let go of fantasy it is for me to care for me.

When I was dieing in the hospital there was a nurse that touched my forehead and said

"You gotta fight honey, come on fight"

I wanted life to just let me go
When I get tired sometimes I just want life to let me go
Not suicide ; just giving up resigned like when I was a girl to just go into that numb place where the thirst and hunger did not hurt anymore.
I have fought like that nurse said all these years.
I do not want to fight anymore against that feeling, I want to remove it
replace it with the true caring I have to learn...to really take care of me for me
not just for everyone else.




This is what I am working on this week in the EMDR and setting up a memory that has only good to it.

 Have a thought a place to think of when the remembering gets hard or life is a bit too stressful

Yesterday my Therapst asked if I have a mentor. Well all my days I just watched others and learned from those I admired or who seemed to have what I needed . 

I felt shamed if I asked for insight from others like 
"don't you know that!?" 

So I stopped asking.

Yesterday a person came to mind and I asked her.

What does it look like to take care of yourself?
What is your morning like how do you start your day?


She lead me through her morning.
Get up turn water on to heat while you use the rest room, wash hands then wash face with the warm cloth. Brush hair and teeth then go to do the tasks.

Well I have always just gotten up out of bed and went into the kitchen and began fixing lunches  and feeding the family. By the time everyone was out the door stressed and exhausted. I would then go to the rest room. Hair in a tangle feel ugly and a mess about myself.


I did not have an example of how it looked. I AM 48! 
Just now asking and seeing without shame how to do it. It worked this morning so well. I have my children out the door hair combed and faces washed they fussed a bit but they are cared for and I have been a great mom they are always fed I just never knew that rutien. It is so embarrassing to admit. I must not be the only one out there who was not shown these things.  I hope this helps someone else. It is alright to learn. 

I am very skilled at homemaking, and at being a wife and mother. Just never learned how to take care of me. All these years wasted feeling shame about how fat I am or how bad my hair looked or such...never seeing that I simply (even so not so simple) did not know HOW to take care of me.

Clean up duty

I love a good fight...
but the question is
are you fighting to punish
or to make a change?
Gandhi

I heard this question tonight...It is a very pertinent question.

a "grown up" punishes
an "Adult" makes a change

I desired to not be like them...my offenders.
With all my heart I want that.

Asked a question the other day
"just when will I know that I have given myself a life"
that being my mantra in the days of youth...

I see a bit more clearly my next phase...
My offenders were Grown ups...as defined

• Grown up (little person in a big body )

betrayal
Scary
mean
secretive
Out of control
powerful
liars
unhappy
Manipulators
absent
nasty
hateful
self-consumed
wicked
angry
Pretend

So I asked myself what is it I am fighting for?
And found a disturbing answer.

I want to punish because I am angry, out of control unhappy about being secretive about how I feel when my reality is dismissed.
I pretend that I am not hurt and that makes me a liar.
It keeps me absent , self consumed.
I then become a scary manipulator,
threatening absence

I read this on a class paper of years ago

We defend our dishonesty on the premise that it might hurt others.
I have rationalized my phoniness into nobility.
So I settled for a non intimate relationship with her.


I wanted to punish my sister for all those long ago unacknowledged hurts.
I am being mean.
My God how much I must of hurt her over all these years as well.
How betrayed must she feel?
very I am sure
I can justify myself till I am blue in the face
two wrongs do not make a right!
I have actually been nasty and hateful by wanting to punish.
It is time to scrub these hands clean!

In my "grown up" way all I could see was how bad I was hurt.
I have rationalized my phoniness into nobility.
So I settled for a non intimate relationship with her.

Wow that is pretty Wicked!
That is what is tearing me up!
I am acting like them!
I just can't stand that in my heart!

Clean hands and a pure heart demand me to challenge myself here.

Dang!
I'm pulling up the big boots here!

song lyric...
Out on the outskirts of my freedoms
I was looking for fences that would keep me in
and I found there were none.
Where did my heart go?
Where have I been ?
He opened my eyes to the heart ache and lies
and I closed them again.
And I want to go home to my Father .
I want to be part of where
my heart says I belong.
I want to wash my weary feet in living water.
I been away way too long
I want to go home.

• Adult (Integrity, asking the precious child, protective, caring, committed, unconditional love, loyal)

Steadfast
safe
kind, gentle
open,honest
self-assured
powerful
truthful,consistent
content, Happy
Negotiators
reliable
chaste, good
loving
giving
Pure,good
Angry, respectful
Reality.

I know that in many ways I am an adult.
It is time I start learning more though about acting like one.

So Sis if your reading this well...
I am sorry for such a poor show of love.
I am sorry for how terribly I hurt you.
We both have to become more adult to each other.
I own that.
I am not going to pull away from you to punish
it is not my job to punish anyone.
I do so hope though to continue to fight for change,
in myself and in our relationship.

Now... to grow up and say this to your face .
I am so tired of letting that scary powerful mean
"grown up"
intimidate me from becoming your friend.
Every time I feel betrayed.
You must feel that way too.

Why here?
why public?
because this is my blog

This is my way of giving back
I do so hope that this journey can make your path
have fewer stones to stumble on.

As always your prayers made a difference in my life today
Thank you with all my washed hands and heart.

Security

A journal of self discovery

* Some one who really makes me feel comfortable is ...Denise
*A special person in my life is...my husband
*I can always count on...Steve...and this makes me feel...safe
*One rule I'd like to change in our home is ...yelling stopped go to each other and speak instead of yelling across the house
*If I were the President I'd...throw my hands up in utter despair and repent before God on behalf of my nation
*I would hate to lose* my mind mental capacities
*The advice I'd give my child is...clean hands and a pure heart nothing is worth becoming hard hearten
*Something I'd allow my children to do that I'm not allowed to do is...ware a crown in public
*The best part of my job (homemaking ) is...being owned by no man
*Something that is special to me which I'd hate to lose is...intimacy as in into me I see
*Something at home I like very much is...family
*The reason adults set rules is...in effort to provide safety
*Two rules that older brothers and sister should have to follow are...humility and kindness
*Two rules that younger brothers and sisters should have to follow are...respect and humility
*If I could set any new rule for this home it would be...no more killing games
*I think the most important home rule is...kindness be the rule of your heart
*One rule that would make the world a better place is...kindness
*The most important rule is ...the golden rule...because...It is the enacting of compassion toward self and your fellow
*People expect me to...be real
*My parents expected me to...fulfill their needs
*My Spouse expects me to...succeed
*When I'm in a strange place I...survey for danger
*It bothers me whenever I'm ...forgetful

1. security
n. pl. se·cu·ri·ties

1. Freedom from risk or danger; safety.

2. Freedom from doubt, anxiety, or fear; confidence.

3. Something that gives or assures safety, as:

Do I feel accepted, welcomed and important?
Do I share my own thoughts and feelings with others?
Am I listened too?
Do I have high enough challenges yet still capable of being met?
Do I have others who I can depend upon and trust?
Am I personally acknowledged by others with greetings phone calls and notes?
Do I live by reasonable rules and limits?
Do I understand the rules and limits and the reward/consequences of them?

Reflections

It has been a long year for me.
I spent the first 7 months with the house for sale. Once it did not sell I had to begin to unpack it. I felt locked down and overwhelmed. The "dig in" is left with an idle shovel.
It is like a bit of shell shock. Starting the garden and having the chickens has been real good for my heart.I never really did "want " to move to sell out. I had to keep up the courage to support the dream of being debt free. Well with the exception of a grand on Doves braces we are so. The mortgage also.
I have lost myself in all of this. I just had enough of hits on my efforts. Taxed to the hilt with the stress of finance. The concerns of my husbands ability to keep up this pace. So for now we stay until the economy improves and we are now more focused on a three month security savings, and our retirement and security. It was all neglected for far too long.

So much for the outside me...
The inside me is biting my middle fingers and my ring fingers compulsively. I am trying to keep from eating food. Everything is stuffed down and I am just trying to function. I am lost inside here.
Doing service work and keeping up interests are a big part of the day in and out. My diligence fades. My Mr got life insurance and we will keep it up for the sake of security. Yet he pours his life out every day with 10 hour days.
I lost a safe place here (on the blog) I think.. I see I sorta made it impersonal and about others.
I am lost. My compase froze in one place. The day to day.
I made it through another year of life. Keeping the introspective in check I supose. If I were to really look in would it be safe.
Well everywhere around me lives are on an existance mode.
Friends are locked up in there own stuff. I guess life just gets too painful sometimes. Intimacy have waxed into masks and avoidance in a few relationships. Fear of finance plagues my husband like a suffocating blanket. It is suffocating me.
I can not breath, the real me. She has to just subsist right now. Holidays are coming and I just really do not care much about it. I have concern that my disinterest could effect the kids negitivly so I force myself a bit to give them memories. I have non now. My memory is getting worse as is the frequency of the miss spoken words that are not what I mean to say but others point them out and ask if that is what I meant I thought I said the right word. So I just accept that this is part of the progression. I keep these things to myself though. My husband has enough to concern him. Life is good on the outside, but inside it is sorta empty.
I think I am in the long haul just get the kids raised and try to keep my mind and body as long as I can. I am forgetting to pay bills sometimes, the money is there I just do not remember to do it. Twice late payment on mortgage and twice on the credit card (that is now paid off and all but closed down) That was a big gain. I have cost us a big $150. in fees and am so ashamed that I feel angry at myself. I have never ever been late on payments ever!
Functioning on a day to day is strange. I am in a fog a lot of times like I have to jult myself out of it. I will be biting my nails to the point of pain and have to talk myself around to stop.
The new logo here is
It's time to believe in myself.
I guess I really have lost the hope in me that I will flourish. I try and try with efforts and attempts to make a difference for our finance, yet to make and follow the budget though. As if it is going to happen all by itself.It is like I am on a down hill ride and I need to just do everything I can for the sake of the others so they can have the best life I can offer them.
I have the knee replacement and other health things that are looming and yet I can not go for a walk, it just feels useless and futile.
I have nothing to really look forward to.. Thanksgiving dinner is nice that I can just rest, but left little to look forward to.
I feel like Charloett in the web.
I am languishing, but I love my children and my husband.
Yes content but content to languish is not good.
I know and I see it coming it may be a way off but I see it. I can not fight it. It is what it is. I am not one to lay down a good fight but dementia or the fear of it is really weighing me down. Knee replacement sounds much worse than just death.
I just have to keep interested in my own carreer.
Lord I do not know who people are...it is really scary. I have no idea of who is speaking to me. Not a clue though I am frantically searching for one.
My antidepressants are really great, they help a lot. The stress of the $$$ stuff is really killing me. I know it is. I can not change it well at least I am trying too. (we).
We have allways had enough, We have a very small savings and a goal of a good 3 months worth. Great goals. We just can not seam to get very far ahead. We do not do what we need to because it is left to me to type out and fill in the form. I am overwhelmed by it. My mind does not do math well except for small windows of time, then I am brillaint.
I think I am shutting down. I am left to wonder. I will pour myself out to keep trying to function on a high level. I just do not care about so many things right now. It all just sucks and I am tierd of killing myelf for such fruitless efforts.
This moving and packing and unpacking and possible going to sell or try again later is just taking the life right of me. I had it all done once. All organized and all just where I knew it was. Of all the things we have gained in our years I can not find half of them and everyone still asks me where it all is. I have not a clue, and I do not care any more to gain one.
The Mr with his 10 hour days is looking to get a part time job on the side...
We do not do the things we should and do the things we should not and then try and fix it by adding more!
That is stupid! Then it is up to me to pick up the slack.
So I just keep the statis quo and try to act as if it is just fine with me. I am tired of fighting for anything different. The enemy has gotten behind my lines.

A Short Story by Donetta

Let’s Play

A short story

Opening the barn door she crept inside to find her children hidden away in the old steamer trunk. The barn was dark and dusty; the air steeped in the sweet hay and moistened with the morning midst. It had been so long. Play was almost a forgotten concept to her. She approached slowly with caution not knowing how they might respond when she let them out. What would they do or say. Would it be as if she had never left? Could it be? Longing for them her hand was on the hinged clasp. The key, if only she could remember the hiding place so long ago… so secretly and carefully preserved. It was under the heart shaped stone at the North West corner of the foundation. That was where she had hidden it in her desperation, knowing that when it was safe she could come back and retrieve it. The years had caused the stone to wedge tight. Searching for something to force it open with she stepped into the muck and soiled her foot. Repelled by the smell and the feel of it as it oozed through her toes she shuddered. She was hardened by the chill of it. The hay was course as she pawed her foot to discard the icy muck. It splintered and it pierced her skin. Her wound cleansed by her own blood. Fazed yet determined her search continued knowing that the stone must be displaced to acquire the key. She just wanted to play again so badly.

Exhausted she fell against the chilly cobble stone wall and wept. The sweetness of the hay was a comfort and a balm. After a long while she was all wept out. She had landed so hard against it that she dislodged some of the mortar and this gave her an idea. If only she could scrape away the reinforcement that held that heart so firmly in place. Perhaps trying to pry the stone heart out was going about it the wrong way. To chip out the mortar would take time and persistence. It would be difficult but she had always been a determined girl.

The old trunk had sunlight streaming on it through the cracks in the planked roof. The light invited her into a fight. That key must be recovered and the trunk has to be opened. She just had too! More than any thing she had to get that trunk open let her little ones out and play. Play with abandon. Relax and create and forget all that had to be done or accomplished. No work, no lists, no obligations to be filled or expectations to be met. The only pretense was within her imagination not for any one else to judge or accept.

What tool could be used? Then she remembered the old gardener who lived next door. The hours she spent just sitting and watching him. The long screwdriver like tool he used to uproot the weeds. He spent so many hours using that tool. On his face was always a look of great satisfaction as if he was better than those stubborn weeds. He knew the trick to pry them loose at the root. He told her once that that was the thing to do to stop them from growing back. His knowledge about the subject always spoke more deeply to her than even her school books. He said that the weeds broken off at the surface just developed a stronger root. She felt like there were so many strong roots here within the heart shaped stone. She just wanted to rip them up and make them let that stone go free. If only she could get to that key if only she had that long handled tool the gardener used.

As she headed out and across the pasture her hopes were high that the gardener would be there. She saw the flourishing green of his garden patch a long way off. His was the greenest and tallest of the entire neighborhood. He was often hard to be seen because of his work on his knee. Hidden by the thriving vivacity around him she learned to watch for the rustling of leaf. There it was and she approached the wise old man. “Hello I have come to ask a favor of you sir”

“Well now little Lady how can I be of assistance to you?”

“Sir, she began, I need a tool to help me get to a treasure.”

“A treasure it is, how could I rightly refuse to help rescue a treasure?”

“You see sir it is stuck behind a stone I hid it there a long time ago. I want to get it out and I thought if I could use the weeding tool that I might just be able to hew out the mortar. The stone is wedged so tight and the foundation must have shifted a bit. Please Sir may I borrow it? “

“It sounds very important. Yes child.”

Handing her the tool he smiled much like that smile of deep satisfaction he always had while pulling out those stubborn roots from his garden.

She raced back across the yards to the barn and within that place she fell to her knees at the base of the wall. With her breadth coming in gasps she began to chip at the lines that locked the door to her key. She chipped and struck at it for what seemed like years. Exhausted she leaned back against the wall to rest. The sun had shifted and now the trunk was in the shadows. Visions of the children locked inside creped into her mind. Those soft faced and questioning eyes of innocence before her, she could almost hear them ask her to come and play. She was missed and longed for. Yet only she knew how to find the key.

What if they didn’t like who she had become? Or what if she forgot their names and they get mad. Would they like the ideas shared. Will they share their own ideas? Will they feel safe, will she feel safe? The art and skill of simply beings herself was now lost. Being; is a forgotten art. The craft of it lost. Found doing more and more in the pace of her daily routine. Where has the artist gone? This routine now has consumed her and all of the value she once found in innate simplicity. The innocence of youth she wondered, where have I gone? The eyes of a puppy are so inviting they speak of these things also. The voices of children with imagination spinning into form story telling in the purest form. It sounds like this…“Lets say he did this” and “then he will do this” so on with ideas flowing in the air as if the whole process was a natural law. Cues are taken and acted on as if the whole story was being pealed like a juicy orange. Mist of essences oils escaping into the air fragrant and pure. Oh the joy of it. Play where explanations flow without restraint offense or defense. Where have all the stories gone?

Within the trunk, there must be a place of magic where the defenses and offenses and fears of offenses can just evaporate into the essence of the mist. Peal afresh the fruit of creative flow. Get the key out and open the lock and play.

The mortar stung as it struck hands and face. In fervor the reinforcement failed. The rock began to shift ever so slightly and gave way to hope of a key. The Promise of freedom, of an escape, called to her. Children’s voices and laughter pined for her to continue her efforts toward play. She eagerly wanted to play. Play, be more and do less. With a thud it fell out upon the floor. There dull and antiqued in its finish was the key. Embracing it she rested a moment. With great courage and carelessness she walks over to the locked trunk. She bravely held out the key and touching the top of the truck with her other hand she braced herself and inserted the key into the hinged locked. The rust held it and made her force the issue. As it turned she began to hear laughter and a smile began to creep upon her face. A light began to develop in her eyes. She could see the promise. Yet, she was afraid. So many times her light was covered by the others, those who disallowed play. Those who had never really accepted her or her children, frightened them into the trunk in the first place. She just hooked the latch so that no one could find them. So threatened she even hid the key. That is why your in here she whispered to them. I don’t ever want you to be hurt again.

The loneliness suffered all to be safe. Sorrow and want for company was worth protection of innocence and wonder. So priceless, eyes tiered up at the want of friendship, a fellowship in play.

The clasp had become one with the surrounding metal. The corrosion made the key flex. Worried of the outcome she thought better than to force the issue. Metals locked tight against the action of the key.

Even with the displaced heart stone, key in hand, time had proven an enemy. Tears fell down. Oceans were born.

She just wanted to play, but always a battle a war to fight. Soldiered then recruited into action just to gain a simple freedom. Shadows grew darker. A chill came upon her. She was so close to the laughter those knowing eyes of youth.

Liniment for sore muscles was in the horses stall. It was in an old tin can; a disk, with a snap on lid. Once opened she could smell the camphor and tea tree oils. If; she pondered, so she did. It was like rubbing down tired legs. The clasps drew in the succulent oils. The dullness changed much like she had. It transformed into lush beauty. Hues of orange, pewter and pitted brass metal upon metal the components were defined clearly now. How the balm had awakened the truth of what they were. She rubbed the key as well and the antiqued silver tuned even darker. Glossy now it was no longer so rough on her finger tips. It had become somehow friendlier. O how this treasure now embraced felt warm. She walked all the way back over to the trunk and re-inserted the key She tried to turn it. The chalkiness of the clasps was less dusty now. Grains of debris made loose brushed away from the surface. It had become a bit grimy. That gritty grimy clasp held her back from the goal. Now she was forced to scrub and clean the surface so that the goal could be achieved. A face hotter and rouged with anger and frustration gave way. Voice raised into a desperate irritated growl. I just wanted to play! That’s all I just want to play!

She fell back into the hay and was vacillating between throwing an angry fit and just resigning into the depression that comes with giving up. For now she was exhausted and the hay was under her and the grime was on her. Sorrow apathy anger and loneliness blanketed her while the visions of those distant memories of long ago drew her into a better place a better world.

Dawn pulled her out of the peace of sleep. The children…, then she was drawn back into battle. There was a war at hand and she had her role. Rising to the challenge once again intent fixed and focused. Yet she wondered if it was all worth it or just wasted time.

It seemed cruel to have to fight so hard. Everything seemed to cooperate if she was pouring herself out like a cup of old tea, but a fresh pot was always a battle. Hunger was always dismissed into what ever was at hand. Horses’ oats were just as well as a feast with others who left her heart empty and wanting. So oats and barley grain was her feast. Water was another story and for that she would have to pay. Pay dearly she did for it would take hours to return to her goal her task. Once distracted into the grind she would have to lay in wait for an opportunity to return to her own desires.

It was past noon when she returned to task. She kept the scrub brush back from chores inside and with it she scoured both hasp and lock plate. Returned the key into the rightful place, hoped begged and promised loyalty and turned the old blackened key. Grinding in its’ place the vibrations of the tumblers gave way to hope. Her hope had been deferred for so long. The tumblers continued and the clasp came free. The grip it had on the hinge was firm and she used both hands to lift it free. She unhooked the safety clasps and laid the trunk gently down on its side and smiled. Bravely pushing through a little fear, she raised the lid. What she saw shocked her. She had forgotten about the consequences of time. Her dear ones once so chubby and full faced were now emaciated, cowering shivering. Eyes so tenderly trusting of her were fixed upon her. She gently led them out one by one. As they lifted themselves to feet muscles that were withered refused to function. They held fast to the truck wall for support in all thirty three of them came near. Near to starvation through the deprivations that fear, pain, sorrow and shock had afforded them. What once was thought her time to play had now become their time to be healed? It was up to her to bring them all back to health and to give the hope that they need.

For now this will be her play time to heal her playmates and bring a greater trust to the game. So that one day with vitality and joy the games can begin. Until then never will she lock them up to keep them safe again. Lessons learned gave her the wisdom to know that there is no safety to be found in the darkness of solitude.

She asked them to dinner a private feast just a small reception to get re -acquainted again. She had oats and barley. She rubbed their legs with the camphor liniment. It hurt them to be touched. It had been so log. They shared old stories. Talk of memories of provision and times of pleasure. With the perspectives that differed came a greater understanding of all things told. Thirty three minds together became the glue for her unity of thought.

They were sore of tooth and dry of throat. Water was longed for but it was not understood the price she had to pay to gain it. Her heart did not want to suffer them the details. So she spoke of her absence to be for a few hours but that she would hurry back as soon as she could. So torn and afraid to walk away that she might never return. They were so fragile and innocent to the greater world around them. They must not fall prey. She could not put them back in the trunk, no not ever. She must warn them yet not frighten them. She has to fill them up with wisdom so that the dependence upon her

changes into independence.

“Here’s the thing” she began……

“I have to go up to the big house. You were so little last time you were there. It is a better place now but you are still very vulnerable there. I have to go there to get us the water we need. I will get supplies but for now please keep sheltered in the shadows. You will be able to see and hear and smell the world around you but it is not ready to see or hear or smell your presence. They can’t understand you yet. Be wise my little ones we all have a lot of growing up to do.

Chapter Two

Day after day she went about her responsibilities. Each passing day she breathed them in and embraced them. Each one having unique personality; talents and skill sets were as individual as each child. She took it all in she grew in understanding. They missed her when she was at the big house working but she always came with water to refresh them. Water was their biggest thrill. During the long stint in the trunk the days were dry. They were so withered with neglect.
Each day came with the promise of play, but when? With the work that lasted well into the night. Sometimes just taking them supplies was playing in itself. Seeing the flesh coming back on the bone and the spark returning to their eyes gave her joy.

One evening she gathered them around the grand barn doors swung open wide. The moon was full and faces shone with eager wonder. They spoke of the games of youth; many she had never even heard of. Thirty three children all wanted to speak at once.

Georgia told about hop scotch and everyone chattered like so many starlings in a tree. Favorite hop scotch stones became a topic of much interest to them. Some liked them flat and smooth. They would keep them in the pocket and called them worry stones; rubbing them when the air was full of stress. Others liked it when the stone had weight to it so it would be easier to pick up while balancing on one leg. Some liked to count by two’s when time was short.

Rose was cunning with patty-cake she could induce the other into a race at break neck. Tongues would tie yet she would keep the pace. Rhythm was a joy to her. The sting of her hands made here feel alive and vital. Poetry was a power house and she could be the utility for a city. Words were a treasure. She could cut like a sword; or heal like a balm.

These are all games of childhood and mine is over now. How can I play like a child I am all worn out? I need others to help you now and risking that is a frightening thing. All of you will just stay this way without many more lessons that I am not equipped to give you.

What do they call you now, they asked her? I was once called Vivacious, I have even been known as tenacious. Once I was a White Raven but, they have just called me Donetta for a long time now.

It seems every time I tried to play something bad would happen. I was always told that it was my own fault. I could do nothing right, and I am angry about it! When ever I would even think of just letting go just relaxing for one minute as soon as she let her guard down some calamity would roll in. Nothing was different now it all sounded the same inside. As soon as the thought of letting go of diligence occurred, something would happen in my world.

When the children asked her why it took so log for her to search out the key, a pregnant pause left the air still and breathless. Her breadth has been held like that for so long it felt familiar and normal. Suffocating, she blurted out “I’m afraid they will find me if they hear you breathing.” Gasping she refused the fear and was provoked so that she choked. She held her own mouth so that the silence might keep her safe. You know this gets harder as you older she told them.

But... He's done nothing wrong.

Good Easter Morning to all of you.

I awoke before the dawn within a dream.

I was in a high powered office building. I had been at a conference table at the end. It was hard to hear the lead counsel for he was at the far end and I strained to listen. I found myself in the lobby looking for the rest room. I discovered by accident a seamstress boutique. I entered. It was wonderful. There was soft music playing and the fabrics were so beautiful. I stood and took it in. Then I was approached by the proprietor Who was very suspicious yet eager to please my money out of my pocket.
She lead me over to a group of ladies looking at fine silkens that were intended for bustia's and undergarments. I admired the fabrics rich texture and colors and then offered to share my knowledge of color analysis. The proprietor then refused such information and dismissed it as faulty knowledge she did not subscribe too, and walked away.
I again searched out to find a rest room and entered. In stream I looked up as she opened the door with her suspicious key. She began accusing me of thieving from her. I said that I just needed to relieve myself and that was all I was doing. She then called a man in to guard her and I was exposed innocent and embarrassed. Her accusations continued. I emptied my purse that was a very small, then and she opened the small lip gloss of ointment and polluted it with her touch.
Then she ruffed me up and proceeded to throw me out of her shop but she had taken my sewing machine and it was scattered on the ground as I learched to protected it the man and the other was damaging it. I called it my singer (however in real life I use a Phaff). It was not mine. I just thought it was in the dream.
Then I awoke. I was angry because I had done nothing wrong.

Those who have so much to lose will be threatened by our innocence. Just as they were by Christ Jesus. He had done nothing wrong. Look what they did to him. Only He did not open his mouth to defend himself.

I have been very angry. I had done nothing (?) wrong. Yet I am letting go of this house because we can not or choose not to afford to live here any longer. This is a fine luxurious home. Yet I have always felt deep inside that I did not really belong here and that it was temporary. I have been angry about the upheaval of my life. The loss of time with my children (who I had waited so long to have). Angry with God, who has done nothing wrong. Angry with my husband, who has done nothing wrong. Angry because I am suffering discomfort although temporary I grumble. I thought of those Israelites being let free from bondage and in their discomfort they grumbled! I do want to enter in to our promised land. I do not want to annoy my leader (in this case my husband) into utter frustration with me. I do not want him to miss out on entering in because I exasperate him to sin.
It is our dream, it is for us to reinvent ourselves into a life of what we honestly afford. A home without mortgage. A home that is an absolute privileged to even dream of owning, yet it is hard for the rich to enter into the kingdom of heaven...I am getting a little glimpse of what that might mean. Like the tax collector of Luke who gave away a third of all he owned and shared his wealth so it is that Mr Uncommon and I are doing. It is our way to give and yet for several years we have held our excess out of fear. When we lost our lucrative employment we also lost our open hand. We held back what we feared we may never again afford to own. We have made a choice to let go of this home to reinvent ourselves.
Let me tell you that this is no easy task. My flesh has risen within me full of anger at the inconvenience of it all. Although I have known that this home was only for a season, known this deeply within my spirit, I have resented leaving the luxury of it. I have grumbled and belly ached until my husband has hit "the rock" almost. I do not want him to miss entering in because of me.
It is a very hard thing for us to lower our selfs in status, in comfort. It is far easier to raise our selfs. It is the one who is at the lowest place at the table who has opportunity to be lifted to sit closer to counsel.
It is those who have much, who fear the loss of it. We are threatened by those who come in innocence for the suspicion of theft is everywhere.

Entering into the kingdom just might be the absence of such fear of loss.
In it might be the gain of caring more about the other person than to withhold who we are. It is in all these riches that I have closed down to the open handed life I once live and will surly live again.
People are drowning in the accumulation, that is what we are taught we are to do. Accumulate and archive the sure signs that we have arrived. What a target for my anger. That I was deceived into the trap of it. Now ...and now I am to let it all go. All the "Stuff" that took so much of my effort and energies to acquire. The stuff that gave me status. Boy when you stop to really look at it it is so sick and perverted. All of that stuff began to drown me. I was suffocating. I had cried out to God on more than one occasion to help me be free from so much stuff. Now I cry out in frustration because it is so hard to shed it!
He has done nothing wrong.
We are drowning. It is a journey to freedom to entering in to the freedom. The kingdom that I am being gifted with. It is not about me...It is about the kingdom. Freedom from the fear the consuming trend. For all around me the consuming is eating the people alive. Eating every waking moment with the greed for gain and status. It is a hard thing to let go of it too. My flesh has had fits over it. Fear of the loss of all the privileges is hard too (smaller yard, smaller house, older things, closer buildings and so on and on).
We are so very fortunate to make this choice while we are able.
I have to remind myself and convince myself. Egypt is not better it is just what I have known. The promised land is taken by force it takes a lot of effort!
So this Easter Morning perhaps it is for me to walk around those walls of "Jericho" and just keep walking around those walls until all those ancient foundations are loosened up enough so that on that perfect morning I can just blow those trumpets and watch that wall just fall to the ground. All those obstacles and images of everything that is not welcome in, are abolished in my life. It will be a clean city of hope and a land of freedom.
A promised land of life more abundantly.

A challenge to post

It is a great challenge to visit here at my blog I find a wave of intensity that can be overwhelming and very draining. I want to offer up the things that might help save another in the agony of recovery but to do so costs me. I often become fatigued to do so. It is amazing the force of energy that goes through me when I visit here. Today I walked after the last post and I realize the power that is being unleashed to my good behalf, even if it is a bit uncomfortable to do so.

I have a friend a fellow blogger who is taking great courage to un mask "the face of trauma" in her own adopted child. She has even requested of me to share some of the things that she has found so profoundly helpful in her own journey to help her child. I have spent hours on the phone with her. It is a privileged to do so. However this has a price of exhaustion (That I am willing to invest in her and her child). In the exhaustion though I am continually healed and recharged with the awareness of how essential it is for me to come here and visit your hearts with knowledge that just may be used in part to set you free. I can not withhold that and will count the cost, measured so that I am able to function and process well those wounds I might have to open up to expose the lessons that I have learned.

I would really appreciate the prayers of the righteous on my behalf. For this is a high calling. I am a woman just like many of you I am made of clay and can easily be cracked. I know that God is handling me gently. I must take the courage to flight. I am a tenacious vivacious White Raven!
I will need the high places to rest after flight when I do open to this calling. I know we each have our destiny and purpose, most of us have many charges and duties. It is here that one is required of me that takes a great courage and sacrifice. I will do all that HE asks of me in this.
Those of you who may be agnostic please forebear with me for I am not.

Urgent call to pray for the Children. Please

I suppose I risk offending.
It is my heart is to say that I really care about all of you.
I really do not like devision and judgments based on religion. (the last post) This is what I came to on my 20th birthday. A kind woman who came to me, when I was in desperation asking God to show me why to live. She fed me as my body was hungry being with little food and faulty shelter. She laid an open Bible on my lap to this passage. I said O.K. God whatever you have for my life I am yours and I take it as truth, that YOU do love me.
My life turned around but not without a great battle and struggle to be free.
At this time of year my heart wants for all of you, SAFETY and REST.

So Please pardon me if I offend, but you matter more to me than what rejection I may face in sharing this text.

Safety in this present day and for ever throughout eternity be yours my dear readers. May God's peace and rest envelop your lives.

It is a few days now from when the ceremonies will begin. I weep inside with knowledge to great to understand on my own. So I ask all of you no matter your traditions of beliefs Please pray for the children in the sights of those who would worship another than the Living God. These children are in for a life stunting event and the people who perform such deeds are sentenced to an eternity that grieves me to think of happening to even my own greatest enemies. Please pray that they would turn from their deeds and repent. That God would even heal them. Sending legions of angels to battle over those lives in the cross fire.
I am weeping having known the price personally. I have in my recovery, many dear friends who could not bear the consequences of the harm done to them. Who's lives were lost to the devistation of the knowledge of what occurred to them. The lives now gone on before me, yet I live knowing the seriousness of this next few days. Please pray for me as the faces of memories are bolted behind the vail of love. This is such a hard time of the year for me. I feel so very lonely in this. I am so sad that the people are blind and ridicule me, and the truth as if it does not really happening. I know of a fact that it is still occurring. I am helping now a dear adoptive mother of a child who within the last 6 years had the same things done to her. This is real people. Please pray for her and this dear child trying to overcome the devastations of satanic ritualistic abuse. Covens are real.
I weep and pray and strain to stay in the quiet of the stillness, in the palm of HIS hand embraced as more than a survivor, an overcomer! I still stand in the cross hairs of the spiritual evil that would desire my silence.
The light can not be silenced, but when even fellow Christians attempt to dismiss me I count it as loss to the glory of the great Most High who has the power to even in this overcome within me to cause me to speak.
Please pray for the children who are being dedicated on those stone tables of hell. I know that like myself they will be given mercy in the midst. I know that God will give them a spiritual way of escape. But to have to learn how to live after a life of survival and existence is harder than most can do. I do not want even one to ever have to know what I have known.

My Salvation Story

I was the illegitimate, last child, of eight, born in 1961, into the generational curse of white supremacy and satanic worship. My Mother was sold a white slave in the back hills of Tennessee. My elder sister left at 18, I took over her role on the alter. It was the intimacy of torture that caused me to meet God's angels when I was a very young child. On the alter of Satan lay my body when Gods angels came and took my spirit to the forest places. I experienced such brutality as to be unspeakable. I have known the worst of humanity! It was there that I first knew also of love and safety. For God caused me to be free from the body that those who were workers of darkness were all but destroying. Abuse unparalleled was my existence with no human rescuer. Were it not for the forest angel and many other spiritual servants of God who kept me strangely dis-connected when it was necessary I would have gone mad. They were my friends. You see, I was as a child under the authority of those who in their own free will chose death. They choose to worship Satan practice his rituals and pursue the wicked gain . They were blinded by the perverse lie they had chosen to believed.

Yet I was chosen by Him to survive. Because I had known his name. And I called upon Him. I don’t know just how I knew his name when I was so little. But somehow someone, even perhaps He Himself introduced me.

Psalm 91:

I turned 20 in1981, with a bible in hand, in danger, and psalm 91 in my heart. Suicide was my morning mission if this failed me. I decided to have a yard sale, that day a woman named Leslie came and after sharing her concern for me feeding my body she gave me an avocado. She feed my starving body then, she fed my spirit. She lay an open bible upon my lap it was opened to the reference of John 3:16 “For God so loved the world that he gave His only begotten son that whoever would believe upon him would not perish but have everlasting life.

Many events happened in that next two weeks of my life. The most significant was a literal battle over my soul. After several hours of war between the heavens, God said it is finished she is mine you can’t have her. I have a purpose for her she is mine. My body had raised men who were holding it down. It had flailed on stone and no bruise had been left. I am His!

The next several years had included most significantly a prayer that all I wanted was a home of my own and a man that loved God. I have now been with that devoted man for twenty five years. The first 10 years were spent in a recovery that baffled even the most of experienced of medical professionals. I have undergone vaginal, abdominal, rectal, nasal, dental and inner ear reconstruction’s. My mind has become whole with only some small effects left by several small shirring tears in the inner brain tissue. This in itself is very rare for those who have know such violence and darkness. Many medical professionals have given God the credit for the amazing results they have witnessed. a few have come to know him through the relationship with me.

After seven years of rest we decided to begin our family. A dream I could not hold onto hope for. My faith that "His will be done" gave me the vision to pursue an adoption I was very extensively examined and found to be totally recovered having proven all phases of restoration. We were honored by the judge with our certification to adopt any child. . Our certification to adopt was an acknowledgment of a job well done. Three years later we adopted our second child.

It took a tenacity that is a gift given to me to keep my promise that someday I would tell on them for what they were doing.. A promise that helped me survive and more than that, to overcome. In my last hospitalization I was given by God a song that helped me through some of the darkest of memories to be exposed.

"For we’ve been made more than conquers through the blood of Jesus Christ, So hold on were getting stronger every day. There is no need for you to run away. Brother’s and sister’s well now the time for prayer cause don’t you know the battles all been won. For Jesus said there would be tribulation and He said that I have overcome."

I kept my promise. When I was surviving those dark days I swore that “if I don’t let them make me like them, and if I don’t let them make me crazy, I will give myself a life some day I promised. Through Gods divine mercy and grace I am alive and that promise was kept. I am loved. I am His. He is mine. I have known His love and I am profoundly grateful that He chose me before the very foundations of time.

The experiences I have known were not Gods fault, as to blame Him. I was under the authority of those who did not know him. I had the privilege of knowing evil with intimacy yet seeing righteousness and Love prevail. This privilege has afforded me many gifts talents and insights. I have intimately known the profound depth of Gods love.

I am reassured each morning with the gentle kiss on my forehead as my dear husband tinder’s me. The times are few now that I fall into the memory of those days in my dreams. I awake each morning to God's very real presence, with a flush of joy as my Daughter and Son call for Their Mother. As I open my eyes I see a palace where the peace of Christ abides with utter abundance.