Welcome back to YankeeBurrowCreations Storytime. Grab a drink, pull up a chair, and let's see where my imagination takes us today. When you're done reading, click on the picture links to see what cool handmade items I found to accompany my story, that are also available for purchase.
The Power of Love - chapter 1 - Meet Faith
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| window view |
I sit quietly, staring out the window, seeing, yet not seeing. I am heading to a meeting, a place, where I don't want to go. My chest hurts, my heart hurts. I am not ready for this, but then again, I would probably never be ready for this. My name is Faith, and my story is not an easy one. But stories of the heart never really are easy, are they? You see, I have a daughter, one I love with all my heart, but she is not "really" my daughter, she was born to another woman who could not love her, so my Father gave her to me to love. If I knew then the pain I would have endured these past years, would I still have adopted? I'm not so sure.
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| matching hats |
I rest my forehead against the cool window and sigh. Several years have past since those days, some good, some not so good. But we muddled through, and found some semblance of a relationship. Celebrated all the milestones together, birthdays, holidays, graduation. Then she left, not off to college, but off to "find herself". I did not understand then, and I still don't understand. But I hugged her, prayed for her, and let her go. There have been a few phone calls and letters over the past 2 years, but the last phone call was different. Hope's voice was different, lighter somehow. So here I sit, in a plane, flying towards my daughter. What is my Father up to now, I wonder? I guess I'll find out soon enough.
Hi. My name is Hope. It hasn't always been Hope, but that is the name my Mom and Dad gave me when they adopted me. You see, I was born with a different name, Mara. It means bitter and from the fragments of my life that I do remember, my childhood was bitter. I was one of many children born to a drug addict. I remember going to bed hungry most nights, and men just coming and going into my mother's bedroom. Sometimes the men would be nice and bring me treats, and sometimes the men would hit me and push me out the front door and then lock it. When that happened I would huddle under the porch with my brothers and sisters and listen to the sounds of yelling, and crying, and laughing, coming from inside the house. Yet, despite the way my life was, the day all of us children were taken away, was the scariest day of my life.
The Power of Love - Chapter 2 - Meet Hope
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| white flower hair clip |
The woman from the police department took me away from my brothers and sisters and brought me to this house. It was a beautiful house, with green grass, a swing hanging from the tree, and a man and woman standing on the front porch. They told me that I would be living there now. But no-one would tell me where my sisters and brothers went, or how long I would have to stay here. I was so scared that I did not talk to anyone for weeks. And I refused to eat any food offered to me, but after bedtime, in the dark, I would sneak into the kitchen and eat anything I could reach. After several months there, I started to relax, and my old life started to fade away. Yet, in all my life, the fear never really went away.
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| Hansel and Gretal's home |
Now here I sit, almost 20 years later, still afraid, but hopeful, finally hopeful. And waiting. Waiting at the airport for my mom, Faith. It's been just over 2 years since I left home. Looking for who knows what. All I knew is that something was missing. I turn and look at the woman sitting next to me. If I was nervous, she was a wreck. Her name is Grace. She's my birth mother.
The Power of Love - Chapter 3 - Meet Grace
I look around me, at all the people walking...running...sitting...saying hello...saying goodbye. I don't think I can do this, and I peek at the sliding doors, opening, then closing, then opening again. If I time it right, I can sprint out those doors and be gone before Hope can stop me. But I've done that before, and I won't do that again. So I pick up my needles and yarn and continue to work on my blanket. And wait.
My name is Grace.
My mom gave me that name, and sometimes I wonder if she knew, knew my future, and knew that that is what I would need, grace. I was the youngest child in a very large family and while I always knew my mom and dad loved me, getting their time and attention was next to impossible. So I got it where ever I could find it. And usually in the wrong places. That is how I found myself addicted to drugs by the time I was 17.
It's funny the way life moves on, even when as a teenager I would spiral into a depression and believe that my life was ending. But it never did. I could be happy for months at a time, then suddenly, I would feel angry, and sad. Something was missing from inside me, and I didn't know what.
I spent the next 18 months moving from place to place, from one dead end job to another. Till one day I ended up here, in this tiny little town in the middle of nowhere. Jobless, homeless, and hungry. I saw a flyer for a free Thanksgiving dinner at a small local church so I went there. I had not stepped into a church since I had left home, but when you're hungry, you don't care where the food is, you go there. As I was going through the line, I noticed one of the women serving the food staring at me. And crying. Suddenly I felt that old fear return. Grabbing my tray tight, I turned and walked to a table to eat. After the meal, a gentleman came to sit at my table to talk to me. He was the pastor of that little church, and he offered me a job and a place to stay. So I did. After some time I found a real apartment and a better job, but that church, well, now it was home to me. And that woman at the Thanksgiving dinner? It was her home too.
I reach over and hold Grace's hand, and I can feel them shaking. So I just hold on to them tightly. Then I feel a gentle nudge in my spirit and look up. I see her coming down the hallway, looking so calm and composed. But I know her, my mom, and I know she is as nervous as I am, and my heart explodes. Before I even realized that I have moved, I am in her arms, crying, and apologizing, and hugging. In her arms, finally, I am back home.
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!
a note from the author.
Be blessed,
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| waiting room chairs |
The Power of Love - Chapter 3 - Meet Grace
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| hand knitted lap robe |
My name is Grace.
My mom gave me that name, and sometimes I wonder if she knew, knew my future, and knew that that is what I would need, grace. I was the youngest child in a very large family and while I always knew my mom and dad loved me, getting their time and attention was next to impossible. So I got it where ever I could find it. And usually in the wrong places. That is how I found myself addicted to drugs by the time I was 17.
High school started out fun, but then a boy noticed me. One of the bad boys in the school. What is it about bad boys, that just draws me to them? The idea that I can save them? But I'm the one that ended up lost. I started slowly, with some beer, then some pot. I started to skip school, go to the parties, and that's when I discovered the hard drugs. At first, I wanted so desperately to fit in with this group, but then the only thing that mattered to me was the drugs. The boy? He stuck with me, but he was as addicted to it all as I was, and by the time I was 20, we were living together, on the streets. Mom and Dad tried hard to help me, but it was too little, too late. So after stealing money from mom's purse for my fix, they kicked me out. I hopped on the back of my boyfriends bike, and never looked back. I never finished school either. Soon I was turning tricks to make money, and then I got pregnant. The boy? He took off, and so there I was, alone, but with a life growing inside me.
I managed to stay sober during my pregnancy, and every pregnancy after that, but between babies? All that mattered was the drugs, so I continued to turn tricks for money. But having babies made it possible for me to get a trailer and food stamps, so I figured having kids had it's perks. Never did I give the children any attention, or even any thought. Till one day they were all taken away from me. And I let them go. I knew that they were better off without me. From there I sprialed down till I hit bottom.
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| baby pink shawl |
I turn my head and look at my daughter, and I am amazed at the beautiful woman she became. No thanks to me, but thanks to Faith.
The Power of Love - Chapter 4 - Faith lands
"We are approaching our destination. Please return to your
seats, and return you seats to their upright position." I look at the flight
attendant as she starts her speech, and then I look at my hands. They are
shaking. I put on my seat belt, then squeeze my hands together, and
pray.
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| Hand Quilted Wall Hanging |
That's when my Father reminds me of the last
vacation Hope and I took together. Just the two of us. We decided at the last
minute to hop into the car and drive to the beach. It was her 16th birthday
weekend, and she wanted to spend it with me. I smile when I remember my
husbands face when we told him it was just an all girls trip. First he was sad
at being alone, but then the realization that he would be free for 3 days
brought a big smile to his face. It took Hope and I days to get the house back
in order after we got home. But that trip was worth it. 3 days of giggling,
eating, sunbathing, shopping, and talking. That was my favorite time. At the
end of the day we would grab a soda and sit on the deck of our hotel room and
share our feelings, and our dreams of the future. But despite the comfort we
were finding in our relationship, Hope was still holding something back. That
last night there, she timidly asked me about her birth mother. I was stunned.
I never expected that, and didn't quite know what to say, or even how I felt
about the question. It was THE question I had always dreaded, and feared. And
like a coward, I just changed the subject. Hope never asked me that question
again.
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| Vintage 1970's luggage |
I feel the bump as the planes touches down. I
stay in my seat as I watch as the other passengers start to unbuckle. I sit as
everyone grabs their luggage from the overhead carry on compartments. I sit and
watch as the flight attendants assist the other passengers out the door.
Finally, I am the only one still on the plane, frozen in my seat. Deep down I
know why Hope left home. And I know why she has now asked me to come to this
far away city. And I feel the fear deep inside me. Then I feel something
else. Peace. Deep inside me. And an all consuming desire to see, and hug, my
daughter. So this time I will not be a coward. I take a deep breath, stand up
and grab my bag, and walk off the plane. I walk down the long hallways, lost in
the crowds of rushing people. As I turn the corner I see her and stop. She is
sitting next to a woman that I did not know. Yet I did know. How will she
react to me? How will I react to her? Then my eyes are drawn like a magnet
back to Hope. She is beautiful. She finds me in the crowd, and before I know
it, she is standing before me. Smiling. Laughing. And hugging....me. And
deep down I know, I am still, and always will be, her mother.
The Power of Love - chapter 5 - Hope is found
It's funny the way life moves on, even when as a teenager I would spiral into a depression and believe that my life was ending. But it never did. I could be happy for months at a time, then suddenly, I would feel angry, and sad. Something was missing from inside me, and I didn't know what.
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| wall cross |
Mom and Dad always took me to church when I was growing up. I would love to go, but sometimes I would come home feeling bad about myself. All that talk about sinners and saints, and then I would remember bits and pieces of life before Mom and Dad. Adults screaming, sometimes at each other, sometimes at me. Telling me I was bad and that no-one wanted me. Hitting, swearing, and the touches that made me cry. If God loved me, why did He let those men touch me? Was I bad? How could God even care about me when my birth mother never did?
I sneak a peek at Grace. She looks so old, so much older then Faith, even though Faith is older then her. Wrinkles and scars, and that always present haunted look in her eyes that speaks of pain that I can't even imagine. I hated her all my life, yet I loved her too.
But Mom. Somehow I knew that she always loved me, even when I was so mean to her.
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| hand stamped necklace |
I remember many nights that I would lay in bed after yet another disagreement with her, and I would hear her tiptoe into my room. I would squeeze my eyes shut tight so she wouldn't know I was awake. She would gently brush the hair from my forehead, and whisper "I love you, my Hope". I would feel like crying because I wanted to just throw my arms around her neck, but I just couldn't. Then I would feel bad about that too. I just could not understand how she could love me, when I was thrown away by the woman who gave birth to me. The kids in high school always teased me about not "really" being Faith's daughter. And Faith would never talk to me about my life as Mara. So after my high school graduation, I left. No discussion, no goodbyes. Just a note on the table. What a coward I was, to leave like that.
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| a view of a church |
I reach over and hold Grace's hand, and I can feel them shaking. So I just hold on to them tightly. Then I feel a gentle nudge in my spirit and look up. I see her coming down the hallway, looking so calm and composed. But I know her, my mom, and I know she is as nervous as I am, and my heart explodes. Before I even realized that I have moved, I am in her arms, crying, and apologizing, and hugging. In her arms, finally, I am back home.
The Power of Love - chapter 6 - Grace is
given
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| striped crochet blanket |
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| fork man flower holder |
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!
The Power of Love - chapter 7 - the
end?
a note from the author.
I've been sitting here for the past week trying to think of
how to end this journey for Faith, Hope, and Grace when I realized, there is no
end. Because that is how life is, ever changing with it's ebbs and flows, and
even when it ends in death, life still goes on, in our children, and their
children, and their children. And in eternity. Our pasts do not define our
future, the choices we make today do. And no matter how dark our lives seem
right now, there is always hope and a future. A spark of light if we just choose
to see it. So if you feel as if you're in the dark today, just stop, close your
eyes, take a breath, and then look around you for that spark of light. Our
Father is waiting there for you.
Be blessed,
Debbi
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.
