and running barefoot all summer long.
I remember back scratches and hugs after bad dreams.
When I was a little girl, swinging, playing happily I had no thought for the future.
I believed my parents loved me and each other; they would never hurt anyone.
I believed the world was good and safe; I couldn’t conceive of sorrow or regret.
I didn’t know that some day I would need to forgive.
that Mommy’s can be sad and afraid, and that children are a problem.
I learned that the world was scary.
their secrets exploding the world I knew.
shrinking to a place I couldn’t find.
from my pain, I would hide in alcohol, or work, or shopping.
I would disappear into a crowd of friends and a glass of wine.
Whatever I could find to make the sadness stop.
It was safe to be invisible, silent, and placid. I began to hide, just like Mom.
After years and years of hiding, I was finally coaxed out into daylight by love.
I began to write, to create beauty, to grow things.
This was how I would learn to forgive.
you can’t believe that God would really love you.
And if Jesus did, why did he allow years of lost days and nights?
That mystery, I have considered for years. And years.
Why was my father so angry? Why was my life so difficult?
Here’s the thing. It happened.
What I have learned is that who I have become is important.
In the quiet of this beautiful new life, remembering.
It happened, the past. It hurts to remember.
when your possibilities are gone, what you choose matters.
Somehow, I found love. Or love found me. Either way it’s good!
And bad things will happen. I can’t stop them.
We make a world of possibilities for our children and ourselves.