Nothing for Granted

I was fortunate enough to know my mothers parents.  Enough to go over for the occasional tea and visit.  My grandfather was a stiff but happy man, my grandmother is (knocking on wood) a soft hearted, easy to laugh and willing to teach woman.  I love them both dearly even if one is gone, I still love them.  It seemed no matter what, if you needed something they were there for you.  For each and every one of their grandchildren.  All we had to do was ask.  Both my parents are alive as well.  My mother is simply a mirror image of my grandmother.  Just a bit quirky but exactly the same.

My mother raised (or help raise) 7 children and did emergency fostering for 10 years.  She've volunteered at several places.  She LOVES her grandchildren so much it drives some of us crazy.... but she loves them. She would fight for each and everyone one of us even if it breaks her.  She took care of her parents until she couldn't.

I can say now that I've been blessed with a great family.  Regardless of the hardships the good out weighs the bad 10 to 1.  Even when we were down and out as children, we always were taught to see the bright side of things.  To make the most of what we had and to not complain about what we didn't.  I thank my mum each and every day in my heart for those lessons she taught me.  I don't know if she knows it yet but she's given me the richest childhood anyone could have been given.

So now... she's had a heart attack.  Oh she's okay.  In fact, she's better than okay.  I just roll my eyes and thank god she's okay.  I have NO idea what i'd do without her.  I know today and will forever keep it in my heart that I will never take anything for granted again.  Thanks mum for another lesson.  I love you.

Blessings.

I try to count each day as a blessing.  Although I am not involved with a religion, I have faith in in something bigger out in the world.  It's not hard to find your faith, just close your eyes..... really, do this.

If you closed them they you have faith otherwise you wouldn't have closed them.  It's in all of us even if we try to deny it.

I have faith in human kind.  I've seen it at the worst and that's what keeps my faith strong.  When that woman took me to the mall and returned me safely to my family.  Other times when I was least expecting some slight kindness, something small poked it's head around the corner.  I faced some demons within my family as a child.  Right on.  Some one in my family... no, 2 people sexually assaulted me.  NO one defended me.  I never felt the worth or value as a child.  I didn't want to expect anything.  I just held my head high and learned that my ability to forget things came in as a blessing.  Simple, yes.  When I hit 15 I started to remember.  It was like a flood gate opened up in my head.  I suppose I gained a friend who taught me the value of myself.  I started to talk.  The scary part was, the more I spoke, the more I remembered.

I would wake up in the middle of the night fearing it wasn't a dream.  I would put all my stuffed toys around the edges of my bed top, sides and bottoms to protect me.  To wake me before something happened again.  I slept on the top bunk so my sister would be alerted and she would find my value.  Nothing helped until I hit maturity.  That was my sanctuary.  No one could touch me after that.

I remember trying to face it then.  I was 12 years old.  My mom and I were sitting at the top of the stairs talking.  I can't remember how it came up or the look on her face.  All I remember was her voice getting loud, enough for one of the abusers in the other room to hear.  "That will NEVER happen again ... WILL IT".  The voice on the other side was faint but it was a silent "No".

Truthfully it never happened again.  Not that I can remember to this day.   I do remember it happening for 3 years ... perhaps more.  I hate going back there.  I hate how no one gave me enough value and to this day.... I say "sorry" because I don't think I do enough.  Right now, this makes me upset.

I am taking deep breaths.  I know that these tears, this hurt belongs to them.  I cannot let "them" have my hurt, my tears.

Going back to my later teens.  I started to let things come out.  Finding MY value.  My worth.  I started talking to a teacher in school.  Then Psychologists.  Then Police.  I decided to lay charges against the offenders, my abusers.  My mothers opinion?  "Why would you want to tear our family apart"?  One of the offenders said to me, "Doesn't your church teach you to forgive and forget"?  The other offender, "I am so sorry".

That gave me hope and faith again.  I stayed with the charges.  I was willing to go on the stand.  I went to therapy and listened to others and found I wasn't alone.  I watched others while healing and learned about how those who did these things had control.  I couldn't stand that.  I was in control of my life, no one else.  It went to court.  They both admitted to the abuse, the amount of time and what exactly they did.  I didn't have to hear a thing.  Another small blessing.

I moved into a foster home until I hit 18.  Ironic I suppose.  I never wanted to hurt my family, the opposite was true.  In a letter to the abusers and my family I simply asked the court to be kind and ask them to attend therapy.  So they to could heal.  I believe to this date that most abusers were abused themselves.  Somewhere, somehow we have to stop the cycle.  We need to stop the anger and stop pointing fingers.

Well, in my quest to find value I got pregnant at 18 years of age.  My older son gave me value.  Someone couldn't hurt me or take away what hard work I was willing to put in to be the best parent.  Trust me when I say, I did my best at protecting him.  To this day I do and yes, until I leave this earth I will.

I had another child who is now 11 and taught me the value of second chances.  I suppose life is funny that way.  Our children fill the voids?  I didn't go looking for the blessings in my life, they just happened and again I suppose were and still are.

What makes us

I was 5 years old.  Due to a large family, my mother helping out emergency foster children and only 1 income we had to learn how to work within our means.

I was always given my older brothers clothing.  I distinctly remember these brown, plaid bellbottoms.  I couldn't stand them.  I would cut them, mum would sew them.  I would toss them in the garbage, mum would find them.... so on and so forth.  I had 1 pair of shoes.  We wore them to church, school or the grocery store.  Other than that, I was bare foot and didn't even notice.

I would always play along the curb with the pebbles.  A lady came up to me and asked me where my shoes were.  I simply told the truth.  She asked me if I wanted another pair and like any 5 year old girl, I gladly accepted.  We hit Londonderry shopping mall.  I was in my glory.  She bought me 1 pair of runners, I pair of dress shoes and 1 pair of sandals.  She brought me home safe and sound.  I thanked her and ran into the house with my new purchases.  As you could guess, my mothers jaw hit the floor and I was scolded for going with a stranger.  She asked me where the woman was and I took her outside.  The woman was gone never to be seen again.

I've been blessed with people in my life who have taught me the gift of giving back.  I suppose that's why I've always wanted a job doing such a thing.

Trying to heal

Well, this is it.  I've keep thinking "i've had it".  It's been a tough year in our home.  Well, perhaps not so tough, just full of challenges.  I was laid off in April, my Grandfather passed away and my husband was let go from his job.  That's all down hill things.... uphill?  Well, I was hired doing something I've wanted to do for ages.  Help others out. I try to be a positive person.  I laugh at stupid things, I enjoy making others laugh at stupid things and I wake up each day thankful for something to look forward to.  Even if it's just waking up.

I have 2 very wonderful boys.  All I have to do is think about where I've come from, who I could have chosen to be and where I am now.

Coming from a diverse family and when I say that, I truly believe that our's defines exactly diversity.  I have 5 brothers, 1 sister.  My 2 oldest brothers are from my Father's first marriage.  You can guess, one way or another it didn't end well.  He met my mother when she had 2 boys... my 2nd older brothers.  That's where I fit in.  I have one younger brother and then my sister.  She was adopted when I was 5.  That's about when I start to remember my life beginning.

I came home from playing at a neighbors house and she was glued to my mom's side.  They were making Jello.  My sister LOVED Jello.  My 2 oldest brothers were so much older than me that I never grew up with them.  Loved them dearly and they would protect me as if I were their own.

My second older brothers had it rougher.  Before my dad was in the picture, they had no solid father figure.  At least not one other than my mother.  She did it all for us.  She not only raised and cared for us, she took in emergency foster children for 10 years.  That's where my sister came into the picture.  Or I should say "how".  I don't know the true circumstances of why but she helped shape the woman I am today.  My younger brother was and still is one amazing human.

That's it for my close brothers and sisters.  Although we all may be 1/2 in blood or not, we are a family.  I truly pray it stays that way.  I miss the days growing up, being a child and wishing time wouldn't end.