Friday, July 26, 2013
The Simple Joy of Freedom
Saturday, July 6, 2013
Feast Days and Birthdays
Today is the feast day of St. Maria Goretti, today is also the birthday of a friend of mine that took her precious life almost 2 years ago.I see an irony today, "B" was sexually abused as a child. That abuse, in combination with later abuse, ultimately lead to her death.
I have so much anger still from her death. I saw her 10 days before she died, she came to town to say good-bye. If I had only know, could I have said the words to save her. I knew her when we were teens and in college. Could I have guided her to a place for healing? Some would say I did, she converted to Catholicism as a freshman in college, but that lead her to more abuse. Could I have prevented her from joining that "religious movement" that opened old wounds? That I did try, but she not listen. Could I have been her doula, and prevent the birth trauma that again made wounds open, maybe, but, the past haunted her so much. If only I had come to visit her all the times she begged me to fly far from my family.
The truth is that I could not do anything, even if I tried harder than I had. She was deeply wounded, and wounds were open again and again. She could not make peace, even with the best religious counsel and the best therapy. She her wounds could not be healed, no matter how may efforts her truly loving, and gentle husband made. She was so deeply wounded.
Why anyone ever would hurt a child in such a horrific manor is beyond my comprehension. We see the stories in the papers, on TV and, in the lives of the saints. Today, I beg for the prayers of St. Maria Goretti for my friend, that God is merciful. I beg her prayers for my children, for their protection and purity. I beg her prayers for those who are put into situations that they cannot control and are forever wounded.
I have so much anger still from her death. I saw her 10 days before she died, she came to town to say good-bye. If I had only know, could I have said the words to save her. I knew her when we were teens and in college. Could I have guided her to a place for healing? Some would say I did, she converted to Catholicism as a freshman in college, but that lead her to more abuse. Could I have prevented her from joining that "religious movement" that opened old wounds? That I did try, but she not listen. Could I have been her doula, and prevent the birth trauma that again made wounds open, maybe, but, the past haunted her so much. If only I had come to visit her all the times she begged me to fly far from my family.
The truth is that I could not do anything, even if I tried harder than I had. She was deeply wounded, and wounds were open again and again. She could not make peace, even with the best religious counsel and the best therapy. She her wounds could not be healed, no matter how may efforts her truly loving, and gentle husband made. She was so deeply wounded.
Why anyone ever would hurt a child in such a horrific manor is beyond my comprehension. We see the stories in the papers, on TV and, in the lives of the saints. Today, I beg for the prayers of St. Maria Goretti for my friend, that God is merciful. I beg her prayers for my children, for their protection and purity. I beg her prayers for those who are put into situations that they cannot control and are forever wounded.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
The Simple Joys of a Movie
After years of waiting, my sons and I finally saw Monsters University. A movie usually is not a big deal, we see them sometimes. But for my eldest son and I, Monsters, Inc. is a moment in time, it is something we have shared, it has much deeper meaning.
When my son was 18 months old, we were shopping, I was wearing high heels, and carrying him and fell off a curb. I dropped my baby. It was the worst day of my life. He suffered severe head trauma. We knew it was bad, but when we got to the ER and they transferred us to the nearest trauma center, we knew how bad it was. My little guy has always been special to me. He was my first and only 100% natural birth, he bonded with me in a different way, he made me feel alive, until I was hit with postpartum depression. Then, he was the only thing that kept me going, my love for him, my desire to provide life giving milk for him, and his cute fat little face. It passed, but at the end, he was there, smiling, not knowing how he saved me.Now, he was lying helpless in a trauma unit crib and there was nothing I could do to help him.
After many hours of tests, crying and worry, he was to be observed for 48 hours. I was in shock, my baby was not allowed to be held, to be nursed, to be mine. Worst of all, I was reported to DCFS for inflicting a head wound on my child. As if I would EVER hurt this precious baby I adored, but that is exactly what I was accused of. Thankfully, that was resolved, but, it haunts me to this day, for my work I frequently have to have DCFS background checks, and it is on my record. I have to explain to future employers the circumstances of that day. It hurts every time, I usually tear up explaining.
My baby went home 72 hours after the start of our horror, with the restriction that he needed to sit in the dark and not move. Did mention he was an 18 month old boy?? And a super active on at that. We needed to keep him as unstimulated as possible.I sent my daughter off to family for a week, and bought the only movie we had not seen yet, Monsters, Inc. We spent the week watching it over and over and over. I loved it, it made me cry, like all Pixar films. Even better, it kept the toddler happy and quiet and nestled on my lap.
Now, unlike most movies that we watch ad nauseum, Monsters, Inc.endured. And as that son grew, into a snuggly boy, he would always suggest that movie as his first pick when asked what we should watch. It almost became a joke how often he would suggest it. For some reason, I always let him watch it, and we always snuggled on the sofa. His siblings hate that he always wins that movie, but, for us, it is special, and we still love it. His laugh is so light, so full of life and joy, I secretly let him watch it to hear that melodious sound.
That boy is now a terribly awkward 12 year old. He is lanky, really lanky, he is smart, he is OCD, he is sweet, tender and still likes to cuddle. He still has the best laugh. We have been talking about the sequel since we heard about it. We planned a date, he and I , and we let his brother join us to keep the peace at home.Finally, the day arrives, and I did not have hopes for it being good, but, without giving away anything, it is what he needed right now and frankly, a wonderful movie. It is about a guy who has hopes, but they are unrealistic, it is about making real friends, it is about the underdog coming out on top through hard work. That is my boy. He is so amazingly smart, but he has to work, he gets picked on my his peers, he is never picked first for things, but he has the sweetest heart and an unrealistic hope. It is a beautiful thing. I can't quite explain why Sully and Mike have stuck with us, but like the wounds of that day, they have. I am so thankful..
When my son was 18 months old, we were shopping, I was wearing high heels, and carrying him and fell off a curb. I dropped my baby. It was the worst day of my life. He suffered severe head trauma. We knew it was bad, but when we got to the ER and they transferred us to the nearest trauma center, we knew how bad it was. My little guy has always been special to me. He was my first and only 100% natural birth, he bonded with me in a different way, he made me feel alive, until I was hit with postpartum depression. Then, he was the only thing that kept me going, my love for him, my desire to provide life giving milk for him, and his cute fat little face. It passed, but at the end, he was there, smiling, not knowing how he saved me.Now, he was lying helpless in a trauma unit crib and there was nothing I could do to help him.
After many hours of tests, crying and worry, he was to be observed for 48 hours. I was in shock, my baby was not allowed to be held, to be nursed, to be mine. Worst of all, I was reported to DCFS for inflicting a head wound on my child. As if I would EVER hurt this precious baby I adored, but that is exactly what I was accused of. Thankfully, that was resolved, but, it haunts me to this day, for my work I frequently have to have DCFS background checks, and it is on my record. I have to explain to future employers the circumstances of that day. It hurts every time, I usually tear up explaining.
My baby went home 72 hours after the start of our horror, with the restriction that he needed to sit in the dark and not move. Did mention he was an 18 month old boy?? And a super active on at that. We needed to keep him as unstimulated as possible.I sent my daughter off to family for a week, and bought the only movie we had not seen yet, Monsters, Inc. We spent the week watching it over and over and over. I loved it, it made me cry, like all Pixar films. Even better, it kept the toddler happy and quiet and nestled on my lap.
Now, unlike most movies that we watch ad nauseum, Monsters, Inc.endured. And as that son grew, into a snuggly boy, he would always suggest that movie as his first pick when asked what we should watch. It almost became a joke how often he would suggest it. For some reason, I always let him watch it, and we always snuggled on the sofa. His siblings hate that he always wins that movie, but, for us, it is special, and we still love it. His laugh is so light, so full of life and joy, I secretly let him watch it to hear that melodious sound.
That boy is now a terribly awkward 12 year old. He is lanky, really lanky, he is smart, he is OCD, he is sweet, tender and still likes to cuddle. He still has the best laugh. We have been talking about the sequel since we heard about it. We planned a date, he and I , and we let his brother join us to keep the peace at home.Finally, the day arrives, and I did not have hopes for it being good, but, without giving away anything, it is what he needed right now and frankly, a wonderful movie. It is about a guy who has hopes, but they are unrealistic, it is about making real friends, it is about the underdog coming out on top through hard work. That is my boy. He is so amazingly smart, but he has to work, he gets picked on my his peers, he is never picked first for things, but he has the sweetest heart and an unrealistic hope. It is a beautiful thing. I can't quite explain why Sully and Mike have stuck with us, but like the wounds of that day, they have. I am so thankful..
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Wounds that time cannot heal
My brother is in the Army, he has been since July of 2001. He rather likes his life. Today he posted a picture on Facebook of a memory bracelet he has from May 2, 2004, the day most of his unit was killed in Iraq, including his Captain. I know he posted in response to the Captain's wife sharing her last photo of her husband with their children. Heartbreaking. My brother is like that, he thinks of others. He thinks of all the guys who have died around him every day of his life, they walk with him, invisible to sight of others. As a medic, there have been hundreds.
My dad also has his own band that walks with him, He, too, served in the military. It has been 40 years since he said farewell to the Marines, but, he never really left. As he ages, his memories get stronger, and worse. 40 years of repression gets harder to maintain as his body gets older and his mind less occupied by work and raising kids. Every night he has nightmares, and often wakes up with bloody scratches on his arms, from where he was "shooing mosquitoes".
They are the walking wounded. Their minds, bodies and souls bare wounds that time cannot heal. If my brother's life is like my dad's, the memories will only get worse. I pray it is not so, that J-gets the help that was not there for my dad, but, they are strong proud men, it is hard to admit help is needed.
All of this makes me think about the article that is going around about court martials for those who share their faith, including chaplains. When our soldiers are grieving, they need God. When they are tired, they need God. When they are scared, they need God. When they are homesick, they need God. Sometimes, though, like the rest of us, it is hard to see God among the muck of life. Sometimes, He has to be brought to us by others.Now, that could be grounds for the worst punishment that the military can offer. I wish my brother and my dad were more religious, I know in their hearts they have faith, but life has beaten it out of them at times, but I am sure, there have been men who were there to share it when they really needed it.
My dad also has his own band that walks with him, He, too, served in the military. It has been 40 years since he said farewell to the Marines, but, he never really left. As he ages, his memories get stronger, and worse. 40 years of repression gets harder to maintain as his body gets older and his mind less occupied by work and raising kids. Every night he has nightmares, and often wakes up with bloody scratches on his arms, from where he was "shooing mosquitoes".
They are the walking wounded. Their minds, bodies and souls bare wounds that time cannot heal. If my brother's life is like my dad's, the memories will only get worse. I pray it is not so, that J-gets the help that was not there for my dad, but, they are strong proud men, it is hard to admit help is needed.
All of this makes me think about the article that is going around about court martials for those who share their faith, including chaplains. When our soldiers are grieving, they need God. When they are tired, they need God. When they are scared, they need God. When they are homesick, they need God. Sometimes, though, like the rest of us, it is hard to see God among the muck of life. Sometimes, He has to be brought to us by others.Now, that could be grounds for the worst punishment that the military can offer. I wish my brother and my dad were more religious, I know in their hearts they have faith, but life has beaten it out of them at times, but I am sure, there have been men who were there to share it when they really needed it.
Saturday, April 27, 2013
The Simple Joy of Nostalgia
It has been a LONG time since I have taken to this page. It has been a long year, I will spare you the details, but it feels as if I am coming out of a long winter into spring. The beauty of it all is breathtaking.
I just finished reading Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis. I first attempted to read it twenty years ago, as a high school student, but, I could not. There are many books that for whatever reason, if I do not read them at the right point in life, my brain will not tolerate them. This is one of them. In honestly, I was listening to it. One of the turns my life has recently taken involves me working full time, driving all over the place, and my husband being a full time stay-at-home home schooling dad. This gives me hours to listen to books each week. I was lead to Till We Have Faces while wandering through the audio books at my library, remembering my past efforts, hoping that if I could not escape, ie I am driving, I would get through it. I did. It was wonderful, even though it was hard, I did not "get it" until the end, then, I wept, it was just what I needed.
At the time I first tried to read the book, it was because the band, Over the Rhine, named their debut album after the book. Now, I wanted to know why. This lead to a flood of memories, feelings and joys. I first started listening to OtR when I was a senior in high school, when I was falling in love with my now husband. We fought falling in love, but, you cannot resist the nudging of God. Every song put into my head a overwhelming feeling of love for Chris. Reminding me of the smells, the warmth of the sun, the chill of the nights, the adventures everything 18 year olds feel in love. I am long past that time, but again, God shows us what we need when we need it, I needed the memories. I needed to be reminded why I passionately love him.
Last night we taught an NFP class, we've taught hundreds I think, but our talk that we give on why NFP for us was the best ever. Not because we are passionate about NFP, but because the memories of our early days were fresh, out struggles, our joys, our quirky personalities and why we are married and have kids. We are passionate for each other and the love God has created.
This is another thing that has lacked in the winter of the past year. My heart has been cold, not just to my husband, and my friends, but to my Creator. And now like Orual in Till We Have Faces, my veil has been truly lifted and I am allowed to see the hand of God. The beauty of it all fills me.
I just finished reading Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis. I first attempted to read it twenty years ago, as a high school student, but, I could not. There are many books that for whatever reason, if I do not read them at the right point in life, my brain will not tolerate them. This is one of them. In honestly, I was listening to it. One of the turns my life has recently taken involves me working full time, driving all over the place, and my husband being a full time stay-at-home home schooling dad. This gives me hours to listen to books each week. I was lead to Till We Have Faces while wandering through the audio books at my library, remembering my past efforts, hoping that if I could not escape, ie I am driving, I would get through it. I did. It was wonderful, even though it was hard, I did not "get it" until the end, then, I wept, it was just what I needed.
At the time I first tried to read the book, it was because the band, Over the Rhine, named their debut album after the book. Now, I wanted to know why. This lead to a flood of memories, feelings and joys. I first started listening to OtR when I was a senior in high school, when I was falling in love with my now husband. We fought falling in love, but, you cannot resist the nudging of God. Every song put into my head a overwhelming feeling of love for Chris. Reminding me of the smells, the warmth of the sun, the chill of the nights, the adventures everything 18 year olds feel in love. I am long past that time, but again, God shows us what we need when we need it, I needed the memories. I needed to be reminded why I passionately love him.
Last night we taught an NFP class, we've taught hundreds I think, but our talk that we give on why NFP for us was the best ever. Not because we are passionate about NFP, but because the memories of our early days were fresh, out struggles, our joys, our quirky personalities and why we are married and have kids. We are passionate for each other and the love God has created.
This is another thing that has lacked in the winter of the past year. My heart has been cold, not just to my husband, and my friends, but to my Creator. And now like Orual in Till We Have Faces, my veil has been truly lifted and I am allowed to see the hand of God. The beauty of it all fills me.
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