The Power of Love - chapter 6 - Grace is
given
Sitting still is not
something that I will ever get used to, but crocheting helps. I was taught how
to crochet while in rehab by a wonderful woman with a lot of patience. I would
get frustrated, and the shakes from the withdrawal symptoms made it difficult to
hold the hook, but she never gave up on me. I can see now that the day the
judge ordered me into rehab was the turning point in my life. But oh, it was
hard. The hardest time in my life. Even harder than watching my children stare
at me through the back window of the police car as they were taken from me
forever. Funny how I didn't pay any attention to them while they were with me,
but the emptiness I felt when they were gone was so painful. Not even the drugs
could make the pain go away. And I tried every drug imaginable until the day
someone found me almost dead in that flea bag of a hotel that us girls used for
our "business". After the doctors in the ER stabilized me, the police took me
to jail. And from there, the judge showed me mercy and sent me to Hope
House.
I remember my
first morning of sobriety at Hope House. I opened my eyes, and there on
my nightstand was a single rose. Just starting to open, and a note underneath
welcoming me to my new life. I was amazed. And touched. And for the first
time in 20 years, I felt hope. I quickly immersed myself in the 12 steps of
recovery, and in the day to day life at the house. I found myself surrounded by
people who didn't know me, but knew my life, and cared for me anyway. It was
through them that I met my higher power, my Father. Over time I grew stronger
and was able to find a job and an apartment, but I never left Hope House. I
became a counselor there and assisted in the programs of the church. Like the
food program. Serving the people who lived on the streets feed my soul, but I
never imagined that my past would find me there. Until the day I looked up and
saw Mara. My heart stopped, then raced so hard and fast I thought it would jump
right out of my chest. I knew her the moment I saw her. My baby girl, a
woman. And I recognized that look of pain and fear in her eyes. And I cried.
I cried for her, and for me, and for all the bad choices I made in my life. My
pastor saw my reaction to this woman, and pulled me aside, where I poured out
the whole story of my children. I had not told anybody here that I once had a
family of my own. It was such a relief to share this last part of my past.
Without a word, I watched as the pastor sat down and talked to Mara. Then over
the next few months, I became friends with her, but I did not tell her who I
was. Not right away. But our life stories did unfold as we spent time together
serving the food together. Now I know her as Hope, and she knows me, the real
me. The day I told her that I was her birth mother was amazing. A lot of
tears, but no anger. Surprisingly no anger. Just Hope, and Grace, from each
other, to each other.
I feel Hope jump up from her chair, and then she is
running and crying. And hugging a stranger. But she's not really a stranger.
I know who she is, and I am afraid to meet her. Will she blame me? Judge me?
Condemn me?
No, Faith just hugs me. And thanks me. Me!
Thank you for joining
me on this journey. And remember, every item I have shared as part of my story
is available for purchase, just click on the links below the pictures. And come
back next week as we watch Love unfold.
Be blessed,
Debbi
