Time for a New Life - chapter 2

Welcome back to Yankee Burrow Storytime.  Last week we met John and Sarah when they received a letter from their bank.  It was the type of letter no-one wants to see, but too many families today have received, they are losing their home.  Join us as we watch this family make a new life.

(oh, and in case you didn't know, this is a fictional story.)

Chapter 2 - Packing up the memories

baby brag book

"Mommy, where are we going to live?"  My youngest child, my little girl, still my little baby, so full of fear and uncertainty, asks me this question while helping me to put our family pictures into boxes.  I don't know how to respond. I can't respond because I don't know where we will be at this time next month.  I get up from the floor where I am surrounded by boxes, sorting and packing up my broken hopes and dreams.  I grab my little girl up in my arms, move to my favorite spot, and plop down on the window seat and just hold her as she softly cries.  Janie is only 5, she should be playing and laughing, but instead my sensitive little girl is frightened so I just sit and hold her, because that's all I can do.

baseball pendant

I hear John come in the back door, followed by our son Jacob.  They are laughing and joking, talking about Jacob's baseball game.  How can they joke and laugh today?  I feel a rush of anger spring up in me, the heat rushing to my face as I try to push down the feelings.

"Sarah, where are you?  You should have been there, Jacob was amazing.  Yankees, here we come."  John enters the room, and stops when he sees me, and sees the boxes all over the room.  "What are you doing?  I told you to stop packing.  We are not moving.  This is our house and they cannot take it away, not without a fight."  John's yelling causes Janie to cry even harder.  And I say nothing.  Again.  John storms from the room, and I hear him go to his study.  I hear the bottles clink as he prepares a drink.  During all this I'm watching Jacob, watching the smile leave his face, his shoulders slump as he turns and leaves the room.  At only 12 years old, Jacob is losing his childhood too quickly.  I tell Janie to go and find her sister, then I go into the study only to find John throwing back his drink.  I cringe when I hear the glass shatter after John throws it against the wall.  And my heart breaks even more when I see him start to cry.  Finally.  I walk to him, and softly touch his arm.  He turns to me, holds me tight, and apologizes.  For his anger.  For losing his job.  For not taking care of his family.  And we both cry.  But this time, we cry together.

cake topper

Come back and join me next week to see what's next for John and Sarah.  And you can click on the links below the pictures to visit these great items available at HandmadeArtists.com

Be blessed,

Debbi

The Power of Love - chapter 5 - Hope is found

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 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.


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.

 

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.

a view of a church

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.

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 talk to Grace again.

Be blessed,

Debbi

The Power of Love - Chapter 3

The Power of Love - Chapter 3

hand knitted lap robe

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.



vintage black leather jacket

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.

baby pink shawl

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.

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.

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 talk to Faith again.

Be blessed,
Debbi