May 312018
 

I went to the gossip site. I was blown away by the absolute sociopathic nature of the pack mentality of the people there, who seemed to mostly be women. Their need to shred someone up. Not caring if they live or die. Not caring if their words are the ones that cut too deep and cause irreparable damage, and often hoping that their words are what causes this to happen.

Attacking someone who has bravely said they have struggled with mental health. Accusing their boyfriend of being a pedophile. Accusing them of abuse, neglect. Calling them all the names and acronyms. Saying their children are ugly! Why bring the looks of an innocent baby into it at all?

It’s a very sad place.
It’s a place that breeds jealous pain.

Over the weekend I stalked this site. Just reading as I was laid up with some Benadryl. The common thing for all the people who are posting is they are angry. Their targeted victim will never be good enough. She can be single, she can be married, she doesn’t give her kid privacy, she hasn’t posted about her child so clearly doesn’t love her. There is no happy middle ground. And the 2 or 3 people who did jump in and say something, were attacked. Immediately met with swears telling them to get out, to stop being “minions” and even being accused of being the victim themselves under a fake name. Yet, none of the people there use a real name.

They hide behind this facade of the tough b____ and if you don’t agree you get beaten until you are down and out.

So where does this attitude come from? They act like rabid, emaciated wolverines behind the fake names and stolen profile images.

Is it jealousy? Is it the way our parents once gossiped with the neighbour over a cup of tea, but worse, because face to face is hard? And, how would these people feel if their families were to find out what they were up to 12 or so hours of the day? How would their friends feel? Their pastors? Who would ever trust them with their secrets? How would you ever trust these people to not backstab you?

How would the law feel if their words were responsible for their victims’ suicide? Aren’t there bullying laws? Don’t they apply to adults attacking other adults? What about adults purposing to ruin the career of another through slander and attempting to make them snap by creating multiple accounts in order to anonymously stalk their victim on Twitter, YouTube, Facebook and Instagram? Is this not the legal definition of slander? What about libel?

In short, opinion is not considered defamation in the U.S. That being said, false statements of fact that harm the reputation of an individual or business, aren’t protected under Constitutional Free Speech provisions.”

kellywarnerlaw.com/us-defamation-laws/

Why aren’t the victims taking action? I realize that one site will get shut down and another will pop up. But, isn’t it time to truly stand up for who you are and stop the defamation? To protect the business you are running, your children and your families?

I was prompted today to write the word “retrospective” over on The Daily Post where they have daily writing prompts for bloggers.

Jan 142018
 

I haven’t written in awhile. I lost my voice about a year ago. Or, at least it feels that long. I know I have written in that time, but definitely not the way I once did. The words are in my head, but my voice has simply up and left.

I lost my faith, it didn’t just waiver. It left with my voice. A sense of shame began to fill the gaps where God and the Word had once been nestled in. The freefall into a darkness overcame me, it’s still the cloak that covers me, brings me comfort in a place where there is no comfort to be had.

Sickness had me down and out a lot at the end of 2016 and I know it was my bodies way of protesting and saying I had fallen. I just didn’t want to believe it.

I grew pregnant in very late winter/early spring and miscarried, alone, several months later. I was too ashamed to tell anyone. Not my mom, not even the babies father. I wanted to hold onto that baby and keep it as mine. Only mine. A gift that God had given to just me. A gift that only I would love for the rest of my days.

I didn’t even tell my doctor until the fall. Perhaps because I was so adamant that I would keep this baby to myself forever, perhaps because I didn’t want the sympathy or the always unwanted and cold “you can always try again” type of comments.

Maybe I can try again, but I won’t. And, even if by some miracle that I do end up with someone else, and we do have a child, that child will never replace any of the babies I have lost. It will never erase the weeks I knew they were growing inside of me. The hopes and dreams I had for that specific child are forever gone. That baby will never be born, it will never inhale its first breath, or look into my eyes. It will never hear my voice outside of what they may have heard from inside of my womb, the muffled underwater sounds that budding ears were barely beginning to hear.

It felt like in those moments, months, of loneliness and being abandoned, that God up and abandoned me too. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what I am. I no longer feel like a child of God. I feel a hollow space where feelings should be, where love should overflow, but I don’t feel God.

May 062017
 

The papers have sat blank while my thoughts have raced in ways that make no sense. Ink hovering above the page but never do they meet.

I feel utterly destroyed. Maybe I am destroyed.

The soul-holes making up the mass of who I am, if holes can have mass; they definitely take up space.

My heart beats heavily and with each pump it throbs and bleeds love and loss. Grief can only exist where love has been. To love is to lose.

I wonder if opening up and being vulnerable is worth it at all? Can I afford this pain again? Can I bear its unbearable weight? Even if I could, would I want to?

Would I want to feel the hollow place within me where many hearts have ceased to no longer beat? Where I don’t even know gender or name?

Will my heart be satisfied in its shattered state by trusting that God knew the name? I try to take solace in that, yet have no comfort. And I wonder, maybe there is no comfort to be had.

Holding you in my heart like a hidden treasure that I am unwilling to share.

Goodnight my sweet angels. I’ll see you when I rise…

Nov 172016
 

My mom is back to work and she seems to be enjoying being out again, its nice to see her happy, though she is tired after nearly 5 months of waiting in pain before a surgery and then 6 weeks of recovery.

Since we all live together I had planned to clean the house for her this week, you know, the deep clean that no one really enjoys, but needs done regardless. Instead, we’ve been dealing with a child who has mono, another with a broken wrist and now I have been sick for the last 4 or 5 days.



{My Snuggle Chicken this week after a nap!}

I felt bad today when she couldn’t enjoy her day off because she had to clean the bathroom and sweep and mop and do it all carefully so cleaner smells wouldn’t choke me and cause a major coughing fit, she even washed my sheets that I changed the other day but didn’t have the energy to wash and dry. I almost cried when she told me today that my sheets needed folded and were in the dryer today.

I am definitely feeling blessed that even though I am sick and my lungs are literally itchy and my tonsils are swollen tight, that I have parents who are helping me and kids who are being fed while I am sleeping life away trying to heal up so I can enjoy life again soon!



{Cloudy Sunset}

I’ve been so blessed by Plexus products that have prevented me from getting REALLY sick in the past two years and that have also allowed for me to enjoy foods I love, make healthier choices and be free from worrying every flu season. So I really can’t complain too much about this bug considering. Pretty sure that my 4 trips to the hospital with kids and 3 trips to the clinic with the kids has been the germs that decided to attack.

Yet, we still enjoyed the times. Sitting in the hospital late into the night (and early morning) and having a friend bring coffee and donuts for me and the girl child as we waited to find out what was wrong. The jokes told about janitors pretending to be doctors -by our family doctor no less and getting to spend extra time with my kiddos as they mend.

Once you have teens the affection is hard to come by, but when they are injured or sick they tend to need their mama’s and while I wish neither were suffering I have to selfishly admit that I have enjoyed these past weeks of bonding in waiting rooms!!

Oct 212016
 

Lately, I have become one of those people who takes up two or three parking spaces without a care in the world. I think that makes me the person who frustrates me the most!? This tiredness is giving me this nonchalant attitude of simply not caring, and I don’t like how it is changing me.

I want to do everything in a manner that brings glory to God and yet I don’t have the energy, so what kind of Christian does this make me? Is He meeting me in the parking lot and whispering in my ear that it’s okay to park crazy as long as I park safely or is He looking down and shaking His head at this broken child and saying that I have fallen and fallen hard?

When will He answer my prayer and refill my energy supply? When will my psyche realize that I am not psycho and that less is better than more? Will I realize it when He whispers into my itchy, fluid filled ears that I am enough?

Or, are these truths that I already know but refuse to admit to myself?

I need to park myself down and have a true Sabbath. A day of rest. A day to live love and absorb the world, the Word. A day where I don’t think about tomorrow and simply live in His grace and in the faith I have that He already has tomorrow planned and worked out so that I don’t have to be enslaved to the calendar or a list.

I need to create the habit of a weekly Sabbath for myself. I would LOVE to know how you do this so you don’t burn out like me!?

Oct 202016
 

I’ve reached this sort of burn out that I didn’t know I could get if I wasn’t post-partum. This exhaustion that cuts into the marrow of my bones and sucks me dry. A weekend, the kind where you relax and have happy family time isn’t in the foreseeable future, but when is it when you have teens?

Between teens wandering off and sports I am beginning to believe I live in the car. My autoimmune issues are in a constant flare-up, my allergies are beginning to feel like a disease and I have literally dangled by my hair from the seatbelt trying to escape the all-wheel drive jail cell.

I should be grateful for all that I have, and in actual fact, I am. I know that I have far more blessings than so many people in this world but that doesn’t change that I am falling asleep everywhere, not sleeping when I need to, and have a to-do list a mile long with worry on my mind and pain in my soul.

I actually look forward to a Monday now because that means the hectic weekend is over and that I can check off some of those boxes and try to detox my soul by sinking into the Word while allowing it to sink into me.

Don’t ever ask a stay at home mama what she does all day, because it is really exhausting, even if you are healthy.

Oct 062016
 

You look at me with cupped hands
Your thumbs wipe away the tears that slip from my eyes without my permission
You whisper ‘baby it’s okay’
And, I know it will be.

Because, You created this day.
You knew the saltine water that would spill from my eyes
You knew as I struggled to catch my breath the word to escape my lips would be ‘sorry’
I have no reason to be sorry, I am Yours.

I grip onto Your hands and feel the holes in broken flesh and know that my scars are Yours
That as you hung on the cross You were working to purify and heal my inevitable sins.
With the flash of a light You knew from the start that this is how love would truly begin.
And, the Earth trembled as the Father eagerly awaited You at those Holy gates.

I wait on my charges just the same.
That they would walk through the door with lessons learned, full of Love and soul-y unscathed
I have to place their hands in Yours because it is You who holds life’s script
Like me, I know they too will trip.

You reach out that broken-scarred hand and raise us up from the depths
You show us that blind-faith is the only faith
That the answers are predestined, defined
That Your ordination is Love of the purest kind.

A compilation of 150 blog posts from the Five Minute Friday Community. The stories found in these pages span a diverse range of experiences, but share a common thread: A Love For the Bravely Written Word.
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