Thursday, August 23, 2012

The Power of Love - Chapter 2

Welcome back to YankeeBurrowCreations Storytime.  Today we meet Hope in "The Power Of Love". 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 2

white flower hair clip
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.

Hansel and Gretal's home
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.

waiting room chairs
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.
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 and meet Grace.

Be blessed,
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