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...