journey to healing

Journeys seem to be the theme of my life...healing seems to always be mingled through this theme. Its funny. Let me begin by defining for you according to Webster journey and healing
journey: passage from one place to another.
healing: to cause to be overcome, to mend. to return to its original purity or integrity.
I am not sure that it is possible to be returned to my original state. I seem to change so much on the inside through each journey.
past journeys I have taken...moving a lot growing up. divorce. surviving cancer. surviving an abusive relationship. taking care of my father while he was dying. being a single mom. blending families. not being accepted. being judged. having a child with a mental illness. having a child with a life threatening syndrome. sending my first born off to college (yes I count that!)
As I write this out I realize we all have our own journeys to travel and some may say mine is an easy one. This is not so much a complaining post as it is a revelation of sorts. I am the person I am today because of the journeys I have taken. I am able to show tenderness to a hurting child because I was a hurting child. I am able to hold the hand of a person who has suffered abuse because one day a long time ago I was that person. I know the heart of a single parent. I have the ability to help soothe a broken heart because I have experienced many heartbreaks. I know the crushing feeling of losing your daddy all too soon in life. because I lived through that too. I heard on the radio the other day a young lady call in crying...she begged the host of the show to please explain to her why oh why do bad things happen to good people....he stumbled over words to console her and blandly explained what his opinion was. My heart ached for her. No comfort came to her hurting heart.
I believe good or bad life happens to people. what defines the experience as a good experience or a bad experience is our response to the circumstance. How do we handle ourselves during the storm. Are we bitter and crabby, hateful and angry? Admittedly I am not always the happy storm traveler. I do not always have the ability to see the positive side of things. Sometimes I do feel sorry for myself.
In reflection...I think I do try to learn from the storms of my life, I try to carry the lessons with me so that I may be a light to another during their darkest hours. There are situations that come and go in my life that I have to just to decide its ok if I never understand. Its ok because understanding does not help another. the compassion and empathy these life journies build up inside a persons heart are what makes the difference. I would not have compassion or the ability to empathize with another hurting soul had I not lived breathed and experienced the pain that paved the road of my life. Some of this also comes with allowing myself to heal. Allowing myself to let guilty feelings go. Allowing myself to not blame myself for situations I had no control. forgiving my own heart. Accepting my own humanness (if that is a word).
I find myself today nearing the end of one journey, in the middel of a second and just beginning a third. For each one different things are required of my heart. For each one I am learning different lessons. sprinkled with love compassion and a dash of strength I will come to the end of these journeys with more ability to change the lives of those that God brings across my path. On occasion He brings special people to cross my path in the midst of my journeys who bring comfort to my aching heart. For those moments I am grateful. But even more gratifying than those moments are those that arrive when I can be the comfort to someone who needs an understanding heart to hold them up when all their strength is gone.
I have been asked lately why I keep doing all the things I do.....because as much pain as I am carrying I recieve 100 times more joy when I am giving back. So even now while I am traveling on these journeys I am travleing not knowing what condition my heart will be in tomorrow I must continue my mission with foster children and their families, I must continue with the CASA work, becasue those experiences help me to complete my other travels. It is amazing when you recieve the gift of sunshine while walking through a personal storm...that is what dropz of hope does for me. that is what being a casa volunteer does for me. brings rays of sunshine to my stormy life....the warmth sustains me and gives me the ability to place one foot in front of the other...until one journey comes to an end and another begins....life is just that...a series of journies....ending in healing....

camp 2009

Isaiah saying goodbye, Zayvn and Samuel hanging out, Elijah and Renn on the bus bound for camp. the bottom pix is Lij saying good bye as they pulled away.




I realize I am late on these updates but trust me by the end of this reading you will know why!
Last week Isaiah and Elijah both went to camp for the week for the first time. I must admit I was a weeping and worrying mom. Milestones such as these make me realize how quickly my time is slipping away. I know this to be true because I vividly remember the first time I sent Dominique to camp and it seems like that just happened yesterday!! In just 4 short days I will be putting him on an airplane to fly away back to school and wont see him until Christmas!! (boohoohoo!)
I worried because Elijah gets terribly homesick! He (up until now) has never made it past one over night and even then it has been iffy at times. I was worried he would cry all night every night. Guess what?? He didn't get home sick at all. YAY for him!!
I was worried for Isaiah because. well ever since his diagnosis I am very careful of who I leave to care for hiom. If he were to get hurt it has a high potential of getting critically serious very quickly! But, he wanted to go. AND I totally trusted the people in charge and off he went. Not only did he have the time of his life but he can't wait to go back!!
While they were gone to camp with Pastor Kevin, Trudy and their team of counselors we had Zayvn stay here with us. We had tons of fun at Camp Angela! ;0)

last night I finally figured out why I hate going to bed at night. why sleep eludes me and I procrastinate shutting off the computer and making my way to dream land.
As I lay there in the quiet of the dark night, wide awake I see it is 1:49 am for the 3rd night in a row...and finally, I realized what my problem is.
The thoughts I try to avoid all day long by keeping busy with the kids invade my mind with a vengeance that will not quit. these thoughts bombard my brain and come one after the other, sometimes multiple thoughts all at once. and lying there in the darkness when all is quiet for the first time in 24 hours I have no choice but to entertain them. dividing them into categories, ranking their importance. then marking them off one thought at a time as I give each one their deserved amount of attention.
an hour passes by...2, then 3, and soon I am looking at the glaring red numbers of the alarm clock teasing me that it is now after 4 am and I have not slept at all. reminding me that i must soon drag my weary self out of bed and march onward through my day.
It is in this moment that I return my thoughts to prayer, where I began so many hours before. and finally as I am nearing the amen part of my prayer sleep comes.

here is the story....Monday I had Dominique out in the yard burning for me. Amaris was climbing the tree. She yelled at him that there was something alive in the tree with her and it had her hat...first of all you never know what this girl will come up with so he was a bit skeptical at first. When he rounded the side of the tree and looked up to where she was perched on the branch just above this creature. This little bugger stayed in our tree all day. Thankfully Dominique was out there with her and got her down from the tree before she was hurt. AND thankfully the little fella is gone. WHEW! I gotta be honest I am still a bit leary of letting the Burrito out to play in the yard.

I am sitting here at the computer listening to a storm rage out side my window and what I thought I would write about tonight has been replaced. The furry of the storm is echoing in my heart and the feelings I have been wrestling lately are bursting to be released. The thunder resembles my heart pounding out the anger, the rain resembles the tears I have stored up and thus far, for the most part anyway, have been able to hold in. The wind resembles the changing of emotions that seem to rip at my heart continuously.
One thing I am noticing is like my personal storms there are lulls followed by fierce turbulent periods. It is like the storm of Madison raging on. One day I will get an update and see the glimmer of hope that she is finally getting it and is making progress, then the next day or even that night I get another call saying she has lost all privileges until the 27th...no calls, no visits. sigh...where did I go wrong and how do I find my way back? these are not really questions I expect answers for. I wouldn't understand anyway. I am tired. Tired of being the one to deal with the situation. tired of trying to explain this mess to the rest of the children. tired of feeling like I failed her. tired of others feeling the same way.
A dear friend Laura stopped me the other day at church. Her daughter and Madison have been best friends for years. Laura loves Madison and prays for her always. The pain of seeing her interact with Courtney. chat about senior pictures and youth outings. I cried. right there as I watched her beautiful daughter walking away giggling. I cried. I wanted to scream ITS NOT FAIR! I wanted to go get in the car drive to Illinois pick her up and have a do-over. but I know it wouldn't be like that. because my Madison is not like Courtney or any of the other girls. I know this yet I still see her in their faces and feel the loss.
I have been cleaning out the basement this week. Spending some time with Dominique. Some of the memories I have found nestled deep inside dusty old boxes have brought me to my knees. precious pictures of Dad and Dominique....letters written by dad. to me and to my son. letters from far away friends that used to mean the world to me. It is funny when a heart is bruised some people grow and heal and move on. some people stay hurting for ever never feeling the warmth of wholeness again...some people run away, hide, and push those who love them the most away. I would be the 3rd kind of person. I withdrawl and close the doors of my heart. What I have been learning lately is that one day something happens to open that door even just a crack and the pain of those losses is still there because I ignored it and never allowed myself the chance of healing. So among the dust and and smells of old boxes I have been lingering in the memories. Old friends who did not deserve to be cut out of my life but were casualties of my pain. Today while sitting behind a mountain of boxes papers and old photographs scattered about I felt the sadness turn just a bit towards healing. Maybe there is hope in the healing after all. I miss those special people and regret locking them out. We will have to wait and see.
Then just as I was thinking the storm in my heart was about to pass. A new layer was added.
This layer will take a miracle to understand...and to overcome...

Make a Smilebox slideshow

Gramma and me

One day this week in the midst of the storms that have been clouding my heart I made time to visit with Gramma. I love Gramma. She is the most amazing woman I have ever met. Spending time with her was soothing to my aching heart.
At first when we discussed my coming she told me she wasnt feeling well and thought maybe a short visit would be best. We agreed that I would call from the parking lot and see if she was up to it. When I called she said "I am waiting on you young lady!" Of course I hogh tailed it right up to her room. Wher we sat. holding hands. talking. enjoying eachothers company. One of my favorite things about beiong with Gramma is there is never a need for words. We acn sit in each others presence and just "be". andknow that it is ok. No words are necessary. Before we knew it...3 hours had quickly passed us by and it was time for me to go so she could get to dinner. Reluctantly, I hugged her gently and kissed her cheek and went on my way. I wish I could find a way to bottle up the love and peace that lives within the walls of her heart and carry it with me always....

I just have to share this funny story.
Last Saturday was Joy and Luke's wedding. I as most of you know made all the mints and cakes for the blessed occasion.
As usual when I make cakes I enlist the help of my monsters to carry deliver hold etc the baked wonders I have created. So, last Saturday morning as I was finishing up the last minute touches of the wedding cake I ask my boys to go down to the freezer by Dominique's room and get the containers of mints I had made earlier in the week. Obediently they deliver the containers and we begin to load the van...and car of the goodies.
We arrived at the church unloaded and I began to set up the reception hall for the festivities that were to follow the wedding. I stood there thinking to myself...I thought I made more calla lillies I thought I had made 3 trays of roses and 2 of calla lillies. so I ran out and checked both vehicles to find nothing left over. I chalked it up to exhaustion and went about the day.
Fast forward to Thursday this week. I get a text from Joy...I didnt get any mints at my wedding...how sad...do you want me to make you some more? no thats ok.
Fast forward again...to this morning. I am standing downstairs looking for something in the freezer and what do I see up on the top shelf of the freezer??? yup! the missing tray of calla lillies!! So I wasnt crazy or suffering from exhaustion. I really did make 2 trays of them...I send Aunt Cindi a message and let her know the good news. Joy still has mints and they will be good for 3 months so even if Joy doesn't come home for a while they will be here waiting for her. I am not so sure she will want 150 calla lillies but....at lesat they have been found!

Everyday I read this particular blog. Today there was a challenge on it to write your own interpretation of this quote on your own blog. ~Albert Camus~ Freedom is the chance to be better.
I have thought off and on today on these words. I googled Camus, having not recognized the name....found that I have known his words.
I tossed the word freedom around in my mind as I went about the usual Friday chores. What does freedom really mean?
I began by looking up the definition...
it can mean the idea of being free.
noun:the state of being free or act of liberty rather than in confinement or under physical restraint.
exemption from power and control of another.
unrestricted. unconfined. unfettered...
unfettered....I rolled that around my head a while while I settled the Burrito down for the night. unfettered. not sure why but I like that. so I looked that up too.
free from restraint. release from bonds.
So in order to be a better me...I have to become free. free and unfettered of the self imposed bonds that prevent me from being the best me I can be.
worry.
unforgiveness of self.
feelings of failure.
etc.
after pondering this line of thinking a bit. I realize it is true. One does need to become free of the bonds in their life that hold them back. I will be at the head of that line when it begins to form.
Taking this a step further...in order to be better I think one must do better. do better in the little things you notice that are hindering you. where are the roadblocks in my life? what stops me from being and doing better? Once I acknowledge them then I can deal with them.
I am going to continue to ponder this.

facebook and friends

Funny. I have had this love/hate thing going on with facebook these past few months. I think I have decided. I love it. No really. I love it!
The things that made me hate it are things I can manage. For example. I hate gossipy junk. I just ignore those posts and go on. I hate when people use fowl language, I can delete their potty mouths. Do you see? Manageable.
But the reasons I love it?
Networking is great...Dropz of Hope is growing so fast in part...a small part but still a part to contacts I have on facebook. Yeah for networking!
Family...I have siblings cousins aunts uncles family all over the world. Communication used to happen on holidays weddings and funerals. Now I talk to them all the time we encourage each other and share photos. I love that!
Friends. new friends and present friends we have things in common now in the present of our lives. Our children are growing up together, we go to church or PTA together. Its fun to encourage each other.
Emergencies...Holy cow. I cant think of a faster way to get the word out to people about an emergency than to post it on facebook. People quickly respond and rally together in prayer and support. way faster than the phone that is for sure.
My son is my friend on facebook and when he is Baltimore at school its nice to see what is going on with him so far away from home.
Old friends. sigh. probly one of my favorite things about facebook. Along the road of my life I moved around a lot. Making friends was not always easy for me. But when I made friends we were tight. I moved away from California my junior year of highschool. leaving all my friends behind. It sure has been fun to look them on facebook and if found, see their beautiful families and know they have been blessed!
Then I lived in NJ. I spent much of my senior year sick and in the hospital so I lost touch with many of those friends even before graduation. I was so sick and missed so much school I would of had to repeat my senior year in order to graduate so I opted for the GED and went straight to college instead. Reunions are not something I get invited to so facebook has become my reunion place.
So I have come to the realization that I don't care if some people use facebook to gossip and some have potty mouths...those things I can ignore.
I feel very blessed to have the ability to reach out through space and stay connected to all the special people who along one part of my journey or another have helped to mold me into the person I am today.

dear diary....

Sleep eludes me lately. I have so many thoughts and emotions wandering around in my mind. Conflicting emotions fighting for position and demanding my undivided attention. Keeps me lying awake for hours as I ponder my abilities to make right choices and secure some semblance of a sound mind.
The reality that washes over me as I watch the early morning sun stretch its arms across the sky is that my heart is broken. Yet, I walk through my day hiding. Hiding behind this mask called happiness, covering my failures and brokenness from the world and those around me. But for those who know me. I mean really know me. They can see what lives behind the mask just by looking into my eyes. From the rest I remain in hiding.
As I continue to lay there precious moments sneak in and filter through the clouds that have covered my heart. I find myself smiling. For real. As I ponder the growth and progress that has blossomed in my Amaris. Or, the way the Burrito's cheeks look as if the sun reached right down from the sky and kissed them turning them into bronzed glowing sweetness. Or, the joy I have found in the emergence of a new relationship with my first born, deeper respect and trust has been born between us a special closeness I treasure. I will miss him when he goes back east to school. The pride I feel at the new found maturity and responsibility Isaiah has gained, the celebration of Samuel having a good day, the laughter that spills out of me when Elijah walks into the room.
Then I realize my joy, and the pain and guilt sets in. My mind zooms back to the whirl wind of how we arrived to this murky in between that has become our journey. In moments like these I find myself too weary to even cry. In a speechless moment I am suddenly a tornado of fear and sound. Questioning my every thought and decision and realize that once you step over the threshold~ your life is no longer yours. You spend months even years waiting. Waiting in endless freezing hallways. Waiting in dingy smelly offices. Sitting and waiting on hard, dirty, plastic chairs. Waiting to hear your fate and that of your child. You get scrutinized. ignored. supported (although you feel so undeserving of such). validated (which then multiplies your guilt). admired (why????) scorned. pitied. You do not get to ask. They ask you. You may not tell. You get told.
My mind moves back in time a few months. We are standing at the desk of the admitting clerk of the local ER. One day after I found the carvings in her leg~less than 4 hours after I found her suicide letters~20+ pages of horrific pain and pleadings to end her suffereing~I stand there keeping her image locked within my line of vision while I answer sterile questions and this surreal feeling envelopes me as if I am watching a made for TV movie starring us. I find myself scanning the surroundings for 'sharps' moving anything I see that I can imagine her turning into a weapon to be used against herself.
I hold the vision of her in my mind and ponder the changes. No longer do I see the sparkle of innocence in her beautiful green eyes. She has taken on this listlessness~yet she seems like a fearless warrior plotting out the victory over her next battle against us~the enemy.
We are directed to sit in waiting. More chairs to add to the discomfort of the moment. Soon we are ushered into yet another sterile and freezing room where we are interrogated. questioned. raised eyebrows gazing even glaring at times. Failures as a mother are magnified in such sterile places and leave permanent markings on the heart.
I am flabbergasted as I hear the words falling from the lips of this social worker who was supposed to bring answers and relief and the beginning of healing to my girl. appalled that such idiocracy could be spoken in the presence of a child so fragile.
He sat there in the most normal calm state I have ever seen, as if we were discussing the weather and change of the seasons. He told us. cutting is a normal coping mechanism for the youth of today. That is the way it is. Cutting, suicide threats have become part of their culture. We should learn to understand them and support them.
Numbness washed over me as the realization that we may never find healing for her sets in and takes root in the core of my being. After hours it was finally decided that she should stay for observation.
A nurse escorts us through the back hallways up to the adolescent psych ward. I am surprised to see the brightly colored door that leads to the ward on which she will spend the next week.
A nurse meets us as the buzzer lets us on the floor. She takes Madison right away to get her searched and settled while we are escorted to a conference room to wait. An hour filled with silence passes by and a nurse walks into the room handing me a new stack of papers to fill out and we are promptly escorted back down the hallway to the door. I ask to speak to the doctor. I am shocked to hear that we have no contact with a doctor unless Madison says so. She is her own voice. Reality has just been bumped off kilter. We find ourselves walking in a new reality now controlled by Madison. The craziness of that moment is still baffling to me!
What a roller coaster. I had to force myself to exit the ride down memory lane or I likely would never get any sleep much less accomplish anything today. So I played my new game. And finally I sprouted wings and flew off to a place where I am at peace and sleep finally arrived.
I woke an hour later to greet the day. Stepping into the shower I went through my newly acquired ritual of mentally tucking all the pain and regret deep with in the confines of my heart. Placing my mask of happiness securely around my face and upon exiting the bathroom I am ready to tackle my day.
So dear diary until another day. Thanks for listening to my heart and for not judging me. Love Ang...