Gift Of Not Being Alone

I am standing.....

In those rooms I talked about a few posts ago.

I can visualize them so clearly.

The dust fairy's floating around me...... the piles of stuff stacked about the room.

A big window letting in the sunlight.

I can see them so clearly. Things of my childhood...... things of my past.

A rocking horse...... a favorite doll.... stacks upon stacks of books. Stories that contained my dearest and closest friends. All made up.... not willing to hurt or disappoint me.

Blankets, and nick knacks, treasures that are only qualified as such from the perspective of a little girl.

Collected fall leaves..... rocks used for fairy beds...... small items seen as jeweled treasures.

Records that I would sing to for hours and hours.

I can even smell the childhood of my past.

Vivid triggers of a time so so long ago.

These are the things that got me through so many of my days.

The ones filled with pain... loneliness.... and sometimes profound confusion.

Intermingled with these are the times of comfort that I sought.

Reading in bed with my mom and my brother before going to sleep.

Being allowed to watch the Muppet Show on television.

Such small things.... but when measured up against the things that weighed me down, they rise up so much bigger.

The better memories don't really begin until I began to get older.... and until my mom got rid of the men in her life that I felt deeply held her back..... held us all back.

My dad.... my step dad..... her boyfriend of five years.

I realize that she was searching too.

Needing to feel and know that she was loved.

We have talked about this hours upon hours since then.

Both of us crying and sharing our pain. Letting go.... and finding restoration and healing.

After the upheaval of my parents divorce my mom was set up with her cousins friend.

I'm sure that everyone just wanted to see her happy again.

I didn't like him from the start.

I have this memory of my mom giving him a shoulder rub as he sat against our couch.

I remember being very angry.

It's funny now to think that I was only 3 1/2 at the time..... but even 3 year olds have deep emotions. Those who think otherwise.... are wrong.

I recall getting up, and grabbing my mom's hands. I pulled them away and got in that man's face.

I remember telling him that I did not like him. I told him to go away.

He didn't.

He liked my mom too much.

And she needed to feel loved even more.

So they got married.

And my life went from bad...... to worse.

My step dad was a controlling alcoholic.

He worked graveyard shifts and came home in the mornings. He expected a huge full breakfast upon his arrival. They were demanded not requested.

Afterward he would grab his six pack of beer and plant himself on our couch.

I remember times of just sitting right in front of him and watching him down one beer after another.

Wondering if he would pass out.... or do as he often did.

Get angry.

Get mean.

Not so much with us.... but with our mom.

It's weird.

But I wasn't really afraid of him.

Deep down... I know now, that he had a good heart.

He was just so tangled up in his own hurts, past, and inadequacies that he chose to drown and numb them with whatever would take the sting away.

I felt sorry for him.

I still do.

He wanted children of his own.

I get that.

My brother and I were from a different man.

The problem was.... that at the time, that man didn't want anything to do with us.

So we were fatherless in a sense.

Torn between a dad at home that looked at us with regret and loathing..... and a dad who'd left us and who chose to come around only when he felt the guilt weighing too heavy on his chest.

It was a tough place to be.

I can recall so clearly those feelings of desperation.

Of my brother and I clinging to one another.

Mom was working full time and trying to be the thin, perfect, all capable wife that my step dad was demanding of her.

It was a tense household to say the least........

But in those moments...... when my step dad would lock their bedroom door at night, and I would find my baby brother curled up in a ball on the floor right outside their door... I would choose to grow up......

I would pick him up and walk him to my room.

I would tuck him into my bed and crawl in next to him.

And I would snuggle in close.

Nose to nose.

..... and I would draw comfort from what I saw for me as my gift from God.

My brother.

Because with him... there with me.... no matter the circumstances......

I.... was.... not.... alone.

We were together.

And we still are to this day.

One of my best friends.

He drives me nuts at times.

But during that time..... in those places..... he was with me.

And nothing can sever the tightly wound string that has held us together ever since.

A gift.

One that I am so thankful for.

One that took my mind off of me, and helped me to focus on someone else.

Someone who needed me.

Who was dependent on me.

And as I know now.... set a pattern that I have had to readjust from time to time up until this day.

Yes..... we went through a lot.

But we had each other.

And for that season in time..... it was enough .

I can see the love that our Heavenly Father sprinkled down on us both as we slept close in my tiny bedroom...... so many nights... such a long time ago.

As I look back.... I can catch another glimpse of my Heavenly Father right beside me.

Stationed next to me.

Knowing right where I was at..... And right where I was going.

And loving me in the midst of it all.

He hasn't left my side for one moment.

And He hasn't left yours either.

I hope that when you look back you will catch glimpses too.

.... until another tomorrow.

~m.

"He will send from heaven and save me;
He reproaches him who tramples upon me Selah
God will send forth His lovingkindness and His truth." Psalm 57:3