Post # 2
Blue Sun kissed Morning Sea
She was born while her mother was grieving the loss of a four year old daughter: Her mother’s tears, poured over her as she nursed. In her heart she came to truly believe her mom couldn’t love her and couldn’t wait to get rid of her.
Born intuitive she processed everything in silence; too young to understand or question that she saw and heard the world and others differently than some and her mother didn’t like it; so her voice was silenced. Hearing what others said and seeing what they did confused her, because their words and actions contradicted each other and both hurt. Silence was her playground; nature her friends, and her thoughts something to share with her friend in the silence, where she asked endless questions. She can’t remember a time not going to church, or the moment she somehow knew Jesus was her forever friend and he loved every child. She just knew she could tell or ask him anything and felt comforted afterwards. She always met her friend in her favourite place, overlooking the morning sun kissed sea where she felt safe and not easily found.
She lived her early life not trying because it was better not to know than trying something only to find out what she was told was true.
Told at fifteen she had to leave home and find her way in the world she closed the door on childhood and found her first job.
Twenty seven years later a panic attack blindsided her at a time when life was both good and comfortable. The attack identified a bone aching loneliness inside that surprised her sometimes and reconnected her to her childhood friend. She stepped into herself for the first time.
Journal entry 5:27 Am… One on one with the one who is always present…
Sometimes as children we have dreams that we’re told are stories in our head. Sometimes we have stories in our heads that we’re told are dreams…sometimes the two meet and magnificent things happen.
Asked to give Love her story, she began the task of processing her journals. Several years later… Hoping her story inspires and encourages others to share their unique truth…she begins.
Journal Entry 5:47 am
Good Morning Love,
You ask me to give you my story so here I am. Thank you for helping me see it through your heart and eyes. I am not brave; however, writing to you gives me courage. I find I can freely express my truth in the best and worst of who I am, when writing to you.
As you know much of my young life memories were buried deep for one reason or another. Good memories always seem sparse to my recollection; perhaps because the not so good ones loomed so very large for a long time. Then there were memories I buried deep wanting to forget forever. You changed everything about that. I know there was Joy in my young life, but it seemed to come at a cost. Nothing good lasted very long and was quickly taken away. What grew strong in me was a sense of having no control over my life, or my destiny. That is something that was drilled into me as a child and I came to believe it to such a degree that I often, willingly and without conscious thought, gave my control over to others; going along with their suggestions and what they were doing, wanting to be like anyone other than me. I call it living my life in the “Chasm of Otherness; like a water tube carried away by a stream where the currents are in control of its destiny.
My mother told me over and over again I was a useless good for nothing; too much like my father’s family to please her. I was taught and made to work like a paid servant. A therapist would later say that I was a perfect little slave by the time I was five years old. I was not allowed to speak for myself and so I stopped using my voice; in order to be acceptable, perhaps even lovable to someone and also because it was just easier sometimes.
Later I would sketch an image and write a poem…
Don’t dismiss me
Inside I cry, I scream
Ongoing inner dialogue
Outer silence…inner cry
Dare I listen…Dare I open
Chance the dialogue….take the risk
Can I even hear me now…it’s been so long
A still small voice invites
do it…sing it….speak it…don’t fear
Let your dream find its voice
and be heard…come on, risk
What keeps you inside?
I am not prepared to do it
not prepared to Speak
So shut up then
Swallow what you refuse to live
Don’t moan; don’t weep for what is available
If you refuse to take a chance
You must be honest
No more weeping
Or be lost in what you refuse to let go of!
Lately I realize the journey to my truth began a long time ago with an experience you gifted me with when I was a bleeding and broken little soul around seven years old; a gift that has held me together all these years; though I was unaware. This is where my story truly begins; where I found myself entering a surprising place one afternoon on the Bellknap; begging you to come and take me away with you.
I recall and always will; a beautiful summer morning sitting in silent conversation with you; lost in the dark blue sun kissed sea, sparkling with a million twinkling stars. Small boats dance to the echo of the engines putt, putt in the harbour; rising and falling over the white crest of each wave. I love this place where I can be alone to listen and watch life going on around me… to think and talk to you my friend. Here on the Bellknap on my island home where a large bell once tolled for workers to take a break or lunch and back to the job at hand; on the fish flakes, where my mother once worked or the carpentry shop where my dad works. It’s my favourite spot as you know. As usual I’m silently pouring my heart out to you as I watch a schooner; the Shirley Blanche I think, being unloaded at the wharf. The Carpentry Shop is just to the left. People are checking the drying codfish on the flakes, tossing dried ones into their wheelbarrows, wheeling them to the shed where they will be packed in Puncheons made ready for shipping. I’m taking it all in, lost in my silent talk to you. I ask you once again to please come and take me away with you because I didn’t want to be here anymore, when suddenly…
Here you are. . .
I find myself, in a crowd, on a hot, dry, scorching day, sitting by the side of a road. I feel okay being here though the heat is unbearable and the smell of hot dust, tastes like dry sandpaper in my mouth. Strange pungent perfumes, flowers and spices mixed with human sweat assail my nostrils; the aromas, influencing my senses. I feel and sense the pulse of differing emotions rippling through the crowd around me, creating an energy all its own. I sense excitement, sadness, anger, Joy, peace, apathy, pain, worry and frustration; all the things that make humanity one; I don’t know how, but I understand this.
Sitting on the ground on the side of a well worn road, I see many dirty, dusty feet going by with different and strange looking sandals on them. I have not seen shoes like that before. The clothes folks wear are dull with lots of stripes and muted colors. Different shades of brown, dull reds, and a strange kind of green. Curious I look up at the crowds and become caught up in it all. Listening to the unusual musical language they are speaking, I wish I could hear something I can understand. I don’t recognize where I am.
Suddenly there’s a hush in the crowd and I hear what I somehow know are your footsteps. I don’t know how I know that; I just know.
I stick my head out through the legs around me and there you are in the middle of the road. Amid the crowd, at a short distance you stand out.
An intense Blue colour becomes present to me Jesus. I am caught up in the Blue that seems pure energy; as if… as if the colour by itself; has substance, even without the fabric it appears to be holding together; is part of and one with: like a coat of living colour appearing to have a shimmering, pulsating life of its own. It seems you are wearing the intense colour Jesus, it surrounds you, while at the same time, seems to be what you are; living blue energy. I can’t help looking at you. I can’t be certain if you are wearing the blue or if you actually “are” the incredible shimmering, moving, living blue energy.
My heart is in my throat. I know that if I can only touch the colour that is you, I will be ok. I remember the story in the Bible of the woman who touched your cloak and was healed. And Oh! I want that so much. I want to fall into that shimmering intense energy and know everything will be Okay; I will be Okay. I seem to know and feel this truth in a place within me that simply is. As only a child can, I know I can trust you, because I know you love me. I just know this though I am fearfully in awe of you. I don’t want to disturb you. I just want to reach out; longing to touch the intense blue that is you, your energy that leaves me breathless and words impotent. I also know you are busy and others need you and I believe I will be okay if only I reach out. The crowd moves and I lose sight of you. I watch many feet walk by. Dirt from the dusty roads cling to their feet, their hands and the hems of their muted and dull shades of brown, green, ecru, white, faded red clothing with lots of stripes. Caught up, I miss you getting closer until suddenly there is a hush in the crowd around me. I hear your footsteps coming closer and edge out on the road again, to see your feet. You are also wearing those strange looking sandals. I can almost touch you now; oh how I long to; you are almost in front of me. My heartbeat is pounding in my ears. I know that if I touch you, if I just reach into the colour that is you, I will be okay; and I want that so much! I long to touch the blue that is you, your mantle; that is the word I receive. (* Later I look it up).
Oh! How close you are…your blue so bright and alive; an intense blue shimmering, moving energy that is you. Oh my! Do I dare touch you now!?
There is only you; intense blue living colour. Your * mantle touches the ground almost in front of me. You move ever so slowly, speaking to the people quietly and gently. Encouraged by your presence and your energy, I slowly reach through the pulsing life that surrounds me. My fingers enter the intense Blue and it feels like fire, a warm comforting fire. Words are impotent, it is indescribable. A person can fall into that blue and become peace, and all will be Ok. I just seem to know this as truth in a place deep within me that just is. As an adult I would know this as your grace Jesus. As a child I just know I can trust and love you, because I know you love me. You stop and I stop breathing. Looking up I am caught by your eyes looking intently into mine. You bend to pick me up and I am lost in you. So quiet are we in the sudden stillness, everyone and everything else disappears. You smile at me and I fall into your eyes like the morning sun kissed sea and I know love. You let me see that you know my deepest pain and fear. Your quiet words whispered and written in my being tell me my soul is not lost as I thought it was; because of what he had done to me. Remembering the pain and where it happened, I ask “where were you and why didn’t you make it stop”?
“Open your eyes” you say.
“They are open” I respond.
“Open your eyes child”.
I realize my eyes are closed and so I open them to see your flowing tear filled eyes looking directly into my terrified ones.
You are lying right beside me, crying along with me where I have turned my head to block out what’s happening to me on the tree branches on the ground. You answered my question; “why didn’t you make it stop”?
“He doesn’t want my help” you said, “If he did I would give him strength to stop”.
I understood if the one hurting me wanted your help, he would have it.
Since he didn’t, you made sure I was not alone. In that moment I recognized the incredible gift of free will, of the right to choose; that can be powerful or destructive beyond measure; the choice is ours to make. Because of you I now realize ‘everything wrapped in the word molestation’, violence, rape, pain fear and confusion did not have the final word that day.
Looking up the word mantle now, I realize it is both interesting and affirming: Mantle is something that envelops and covers, like a tree covered in a mantle of snow. Spanish writer Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra said; blessings on him who invented sleep, the mantle that covers all human thoughts. He is saying sleep is as a mantle blanketing the mind. Mantle also refers to the part of the Earth that is deep below the surface and surrounds the core. From the word and its meanings three things strike me: One: Authority. Two: The earth’s mantle; the portion of the earth between the crust and the core. Three: When I was a child there was no electricity on my island home. At night we used a Coleman lamp with a mantle. The mantle, when first lit, gave off a blue light before becoming a brilliant white light in the darkness. What this means to me is that you Jesus, by your authority and power, protected the core of who I am so the abuse would not destroy me completely, and that the brilliant Blue light that is also your mantle lit up the darkness that I might have fallen into, and become overpowered by.
You knew Mom kept telling me that if I let boys touch me the devil would come in the middle of the night, take me from my bed and bring me to hell where I would burn in fire forever. I would never see my family again. I was around seven when I was first molested and it ended when I was around eleven. I was warned not to tell, and I was terrified either way. When my face was burned by an explosion when I was trying to light a fire in the stove; I often wondered if burning in hell was anything like the pain I felt then. I often wonder if mom knew what happened and that it may be why she said what she did. But then, if she knew why wouldn’t she stop it and protect me.
Jesus you show me that with your love you surround the core of me. You are part of what is deep below the surface, the mystery of me. You were and are present to my pain and my joy. You love me and you protected me from what could have completely destroyed me. You were with me and I was never alone as I thought I was. I understood we need to want your help, that it’s important for us to ask for your help and also be open to receive it. That is your grace. You do not cross the sacred boundaries of the gift you give us; the right to choose even if it breaks your heart. We need only pause, to question, to doubt what we are doing and in the blink of an eye you give us strength to make a better choice.
When I tell Mom about my experience with you on the Bellknap, she gets upset. She says to keep it to myself because it wasn’t real; just a dream and everyone would laugh at me and say I’m crazy and that God didn’t like crazy little girls.
She took much away from me Jesus, yet somehow you helped me keep this gift of yours as truth. Many times on rough days, I would ask you to come and take me away with you without realizing what I was saying. Your grace alone held me safe and strong through the pain. I could never forget. Many, many years later I still remember as if it was just yesterday. I know this experience of you and your love was and is a gift of your love, mercy and grace, at a time when you knew my need more than I possibly could have. I now weep from a deep well of pain and hope as I let this memory of you have life in me and heal me once again. I feel your healing love adjust something in me, set something free that has been hidden far too long. I know your healing love and compassion and I trust in you. I trust you. Over the years I often asked myself why you would come to me at that particular time and in that particular way. You knew I wanted you to come and take me away with you. I didn’t realize at the time that what I wanted was to die. You gave me what I needed to want to live and survive.
I was often puzzled by what I was told and what I seemed to know. Was that because of you and the way you have always been with me? I believed with all my heart, and still do, that you are and always will be my friend.
As a child I sensed you in the hymns we sang. I felt comfort when I spent time thinking about you. At the same time I was so afraid of God the Father because I was told often how bad I was, and that he was keeping tabs on all the bad things I did.
You were and are my good shepherd, like the one in the picture above the bed I shared with my sisters. I have talked to you about everything for as long as I can remember. At church I found peace in what they said about you. I loved going there and looked forward to it. I couldn’t understand what Mom said about God though; that God would strike her enemies down and stuff like that. Especially when I knew the people she spoke about weren’t her enemies at all. I knew that from the way they spoke about her with kindness.
Thank you Jesus; as I write this I am newly aware of how involved you have always been in my life, since I was a thought in the consciousness of God; as you are with us all. You are an intrinsic part of me and I of you by grace alone. You the vine, hold me the little branch secure in your love. You breathe me and I breathe.
You asked for my story and I give it to you now. It is also part of your story Jesus and my gift to you. It’s a love story of a different kind; the story of our relationship, out of which all my other relationships live, breathe and grow. I begin with the shimmering blue morning sea encounter with you, since it was the beginning.
As an adult I have experienced many hours with you in gospel Contemplation and meditation. My heart is full with your goodness and grace. I say this Jesus because I need you to know that I’m aware that the above experience with you was not gospel contemplation or meditation. It was simply your gift to me in the only way that I, a broken bleeding child, whose life was too much to bear at the time, could accept and embrace your presence and love. As sure as I breathe I know it was you choosing to reveal your presence to me in that particular way in that particular time and place. Your love and your grace shattered my heart exquisitely; healing all the broken bits and pieces. You stopped the bleeding; restoring and redeeming my heart and spirit to originality; filling it with your light and love, and you continue to do that. Thank you. You saved me that day from what had the potential to totally destroy me. I do not ever feel apart from you, even when I feel alone; I’m aware of you breathing me and I breathing you; out of your love for all.
I give you my story as you gave it to me when you called me your gentle spirit. With the hope that it may inspire others to make the journey into their own sacred story.
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