Moving on...

Moving on doesn't mean you forget about things. It just means you have to accept what happened and continue living...

I Miss This Girl...

    I miss this girl...

                                                                         this girl...

                                                                        this girl...

this girl...

this girl...

                                                                      ......so much.

The Pink Shirt

A long long time ago, in what seems like a whole different galaxy and a whole lifetime ago, my daughter bought me, with her own money and not on my birthday or Mother's Day or Christmas, a cute pink shirt. Because she thought I would like it. and I did.

Then the whole world kinda fell aprt...and she left...and she hated us...and betrayed us...and I hid that shirt where I didn't think I would find it. Some time later, I came across it. And the pain was fierce. I came very close to throwing it away.

But I didn't. Now it is in the very back of my closet, reminding me of who she used to be, who she will be again someday. I have to trust.

Sometimes that shirt mocks me. Some times it gently chides me. But sometime I will wear it again.

The Girl Who...

                                         I Miss the girl:

                                        the girl who used to find happiness with her family...

the girl who lived life on the edge

                          the girl who had so many dreams and plans and so much to do 

                              that she didn't expect to get married for a long, long time....

                                                            the girl who liked to cook...

                                       the girl who was "peanut-butter" to Rachel's "jelly"...

                                                            (Rachel misses her, too)

                                                  the girl who liked to visit this place...

                                                      the girl who loved her siblings...

                                                      the girl who played the guitar...

                                      

the girl who loved her perfume bottles and pearls...

the girl who liked to write on her arm and shoot a gun...

 the girl who was so dramatic...in shows and real life

                                      the girl who had so much fun wearing these shoes...

                                                         the girl her siblings miss...

                                                     the girl who didn't say goodbye...

Ugly

It was ugly--raw, brutal, gut wrenching sobs--the words  "I miss her so much" burst out, unbidden and unexpected...

Yet beautiful. He held me--his tears joined mine. No words, just his arms around me.

No accusations tossed back and forth. No heated discussions about perceived failures.

Just two wounded souls who found each other...at least for this moment in time.

Two parents who are learning they are not responsible before God for the choices made by their child.


Two people trying to figure out alot of things:
--how to set boundaries, yet reach out to her
--how to protect younger siblings from bad influences, yet have a relationship with her
--how to love her, yet protect their own hearts

Two people who need to learn:
--how to talk to each other without rubbing salt into tender places
--how to discuss hard things without blame or sarcasm or hidden agendas
--how to be gentle with each other

Motherhood

Motherhood is a choice you make everyday,
to put someone else's happiness and well-being ahead of your own,
to teach the hard lessons,
to do the right thing even though you're not sure what the right thing is,
and to forgive yourself over and over again for doing everything wrong.

Donna Bell

The Hardest Work of All

Never think for a moment that waiting is idle. 

Sometimes we do no harder work in our lives than the work of 

         "waiting"

         "being still"

         "sitting back"

and letting the Holy Spirit work.

It is a totally active time of choosing to trust God's perfect timing.

~ Beth Moore