Picking Up Pieces

In my mind's eye I see a woman walking around an empty room holding a basket and picking up broken pieces. She's placing them in her basket and humming softly to herself a happy song. For so long she sat huddled in the corner and staring longingly at the pieces laying scattered around the room. Broken pieces of herself and her life strewn across the floor. For so long she was content with sitting in her corner and remembering who she used to be, but now the woman wants more. She wants to BE. She wants to LIVE. To get up out of the corner and laugh, smile and love. Even though it hurts to pick up those pieces she knows that it has to be done. Smiling, the woman knows that soon she will be happy again. Truly happy, not forced or awkward like it is now. Soon she will just wake up happy instead of having to DECIDE to be happy that day. For now, there is work to be done. Pieces to be gathered, prayer and meditation to be done and tears to be shed. Soon. Soon. Soon.

Waiting For Sunrise

God woke me up at 5 o'clock this morning. Those who know me know that I am not a morning person and that nothing short of an act of God would get me up that early! In fact, I was very annoyed when my eyes popped open at 5 a.m. and refused to close. However, I got to experience some things that I'd like to share with you. First off I got to spend time with my husband before he left for work. As I sat in the livingroom with him talking and laughing at 6 a.m. I realized how often I don't make time for him. I think about how many mornings he's gotten up alone, showered, dressed and left for work without even a "goodbye" or "I love you". Why? So that I can have an extra two hours of sleep? After he had left I decided that I would do some laundry while our toddler was still sleeping. After only a few minutes, however, I felt the urge to sit outside and watch the sunrise instead. So I abandoned our pile of clean clothes on our bed and headed out. I took a folding chair out onto our porch and sat waiting for the sunrise. As I sat there I was suddenly struck by the beauty of God's creation. It was around 7 a.m. and it was just light enough to barely see. I could hear birds calling, squirrels barking and a rooster crowing. There was a slight breeze and our tall pines swayed. The sky grew lighter and lighter by shades. It was breath-taking. How could I sleep until 9 o'clock every morning and miss this? Then God spoke to my heart and I thought about how much of God's glory we miss every day.



A sunrise, a sunset, a thunderstorm, a beautiful sunny day. He changes day to night, summer to autumn and all at jut the right time. Most of the time we go about our lives in too much of a hurry to notice how flawlessly our world has been made. When we lose appreciation for God's creation, we begin to lose appreciation for God. We were put here to tend and maintain the earth for God but we act like spoiled children with no respect for our Father's posessions. And we are one of them. I have been very humbled this morning and ashamed that I have neglected to appreciate what God has given me. I was created by an awesome God who loves me and cares about me. He created this beautiful world and every living thing in it. He has given me a wonderful husband who works hard to provide for his family. He has promised me a home in Heaven where I can be with Him who made me forever and ever. I'm grateful that God woke me up this morning and I'm glad that it was at 5 a.m.

My Addiction (It's not what you think)

Hi, my name is Shannon and I have a problem. I have an addiction and it's none of the things that you would normally guess. I'm not an alcoholic, not addicted to drugs, I don't smoke and I don't look at pornography. I am addicted to daydreaming. That's right, daydreaming. My mind slips off into realms unknown almost without me realizing it. Almost against my will. It started a very long time ago. As far back as I can remember I hid away and daydreamed to escape.

A Child Broken:
I have been broken inside since I was a very small child. I don't know exactly at what age I began retreating into a fantasy land, but I do know why. I have an older brother who is seven years older than me. I also have a younger brother and a younger sister. My older brother is so much older than me that I don't remember him much. I didn't meet my father until I was 25 years old. My mother is paranoid schizophrenic. Living with my mother was hard. It was unpredictable. It was scary to me. She constantly yelled at people who weren't there or she thought that my little brother and I were "plotting against her". My mother didn't hug me and I did not hug her. Most of the time she stayed in her room. She sat on the edge of her bed, rocked and talked to herself. That is incredibly unsettling for a four year old to watch. I remember sitting just outside of her door and watching her rock for hours. It terrified me. She did come out into the rest of the house and do "normal" things. She would watch TV, cook for us, eat with us, talk to us but I was always on edge then. I never knew what would cause her to become upset and start yelling. To escape all of the chaos I began to daydream. In my daydreams I was in control. I had a mommy and a daddy who loved me and we lived beside a park. I was a princess in a castle. I was loved. I was safe. I was happy.

A Child Alone:
My grandmother used to pick me up and take me to spend a couple nights with her from the time I was about a year old. My uncle and step-aunt both lived with her. She didn't pick up my little brother much because he was so wild. My little sister wasn't born until I was five years old. I loved it there. There was no yelling. No chaos. It was just me, my Granny, my Uncle Tommy and my Aunt Marie. When my Granny would take me back home after a visit I would cry and cry. I remember begging her for the entire 30 minute ride not to take me home. One day I overheard my uncle telling my Granny that he wanted me to live with them. I latched onto that hope like a lifeline. She was hesitant because they were both approaching their later years in life. He was her oldest son. My uncle had no kids of his own and had fallen in love with me so he continued to push for her to let me live with them. This led me to make a plan. At four years old I made a decision. A decision to lie. I needed to get out. So I told my mother and my Granny that my pre-K teacher was being mean to me. They talked and it was agreed that I would finish pre-K with my Granny and then return. That was the last time my mother had full custody of me. I went back for summers, weekends and a few "you live with ME now" stays, but not permanently. I was finally in a place with no yelling, no freak-outs and with lots of hugs. However, there were no other children living with her. I was alone. So, the coping mechanism that I used at my mother's house became an interesting escape from boredom. I also learned to read at an early age and turned to books for relief. Relief from troubling memories and from the guilt of leaving my brother, and later sister, behind. Leaving them to deal with living with our mother. I had voluntarily made myself an only child. I had cut myself off from my siblings in a selfish move that gave me a safer environment. I would never experience a sibling relationship that comes from growing up TOGETHER. As time passed, I grew to envy the closeness that my younger brother and sister shared. I was an outsider. I didn't belong with them. I refused to confront or even acknowledge these feelings. I shoved them to the back along with the painful memories. I turned back to my daydreams and pretended that I was ok. I refused to trust counsellors. I didn't want to talk about everything hiding away in my head. Talking about it would make it real. If it was real, I would have to face it. I would have to confront emotional demons that I didn't think I could defeat.

An Adult Healing:
As an adult, I'm finally starting to emotionally "clean house". I still struggle to stay focused on the here and now. Daydreaming is something that my mind has become accustomed to doing. The difference is that now I have God with me to help me be the person He's called me to be. Helping me not to shrink off into a corner and shut out reality, but to rise up and fly. To embrace every day. The good and the bad. The past and the present. Now, I realize that God was there all along, waiting. Waiting for me to reach out to Him. When I was a child and hiding under a bed in fear, God was there. When I was a pre-teen and watching my Granny whither from cancer and die, God was there. When I was a teenager and so full of hurt and anger, God was there. And finally, two years ago, sitting in a church pew with my insides tied in knots, God was there. When I finally cried out for Him with tears running down my face, He said, "Finally. I've been waiting for you. Waiting to heal you, to comfort you, to hold you." And He is. In His way, in His time. I am healing.

Grow Up? No thanks, I think I'll pass!

As I see it there are three major levels of maturity in adults. The first group is the most mature. They are the ones who make the wise decisions, the ones who stop and think things through. They always plan ahead and get things done. However, don't count on them to help you Nair your brother's eyebrows off. Next are the moderately mature adults. I believe that most people fall into this category. These people know when it's ok to cut loose and when it's time to get down to business. They can conduct and boardroom meeting blindfolded, but they have been known to push an unsuspecting friend into a pool from time to time. And then there's the third group. These are the people that you hate to go into public with. These are the people who pretend to throw up in public trashcans when strangers are nearby. The ones who end up with jobs involving a chicken costume. Yes, my friends, I belong to the third group. However, sans feathery attire. About a year ago my husband asked me, "Are you ever gonna grow up?"

 

 



We had been at WalMart that night. I convinced a friend to put on a baseball helmet and let me whack her in the head with a metal bat(not recommended). The "TINK" was so loud that the manager came over. She was very impressed with our product testing methods. I could tell because she followed us throughout the store to make sure we had an enoyable shopping experience. When he asked me if I was ever going to "grow up" I thought about it. Children are blessed with a beautiful innocence and a carefree spirit. But as time goes by they are exposed to situations and people in this world that rob them of that innocence. That lightheartedness. It doesn't even have to be traumatic, just life. Their first mean kid, the first loss of a loved one, the first death of a pet. Before you realize it, you're 30 years old and life has rubbed you til you're caloused and hard. We lose that innocence we had. We become jaded, cynical. If we're not careful we lose our joy. Our ability to laugh at the little things. I want to look up in awe at a starry night sky. I want to be moved by a beautiful sunset. I want to make a new friend and believe the best about them from the start. I want to wear my heart on my sleeve. I want to sing and not care who's listening. I want to trust without worrying. If that makes me "not very grown up", that's ok with me. I can live with that.

Chasing Butterflies

I spent most of my childhood trying my best to disappear. To blend into a crowd. To be overlooked. I hid away in books as much as possible. If I wasn't reading, I was daydreaming. Those were safe. Real life and real people were unpredictable and scary. They could, and in my experience often did, hurt you. At 15 years old I began to write and by putting pen to paper I began to vent. To exercise some emotional demons, so to speak. My confidence built and I took my first tentative steps into highschool socialization. I made friends and began to date. At 16 I took off the training wheels and at 17, I fell. Hard. The kind of fall that's not easy to get up from. The kind of fall that breaks a person. And it broke me. I put the fake smile back in it's place and I tried to ignore the pain, the sadness, the disappointment in myself. But no matter what I did or where I went, it was always at the edges. Threatening to come flooding in and overwhelm me. I put down my pen for fear of what would come out if I began to write. But, writing is what I love. It's part of who I am. Over the last two years God has been mending the broken parts of me. It's a job that only He could do! While watching my daughter play outside yesterday, God spoke to my heart. As she laughed and ran and squealed in delight at the butterflies fluttering through our wild flowers, I realized that it's time. Time to let go. Time to pick my pen back up. Time to go chasing butterflies. You're welcome to join me.