Thursday, October 4, 2012

The Power of Love - chapter 6 - Grace is given

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 6 - Grace is given
striped crochet blanket
 Sitting still is not something that I will ever get used to, but crocheting helps.  I was taught how to crochet while in rehab by a wonderful woman with a lot of patience.  I would get frustrated, and the shakes from the withdrawal symptoms made it difficult to hold the hook, but she never gave up on me.  I can see now that the day the judge ordered me into rehab was the turning point in my life.  But oh, it was hard.  The hardest time in my life.  Even harder than watching my children stare at me through the back window of the police car as they were taken from me forever.  Funny how I didn't pay any attention to them while they were with me, but the emptiness I felt when they were gone was so painful.  Not even the drugs could make the pain go away.  And I tried every drug imaginable until the day someone found me almost dead in that flea bag of a hotel that us girls used for our "business".  After the doctors in the ER stabilized me, the police took me to jail.  And from there, the judge showed me mercy and sent me to Hope House.

fork man flower holder
I remember my first morning of sobriety at Hope House.  I opened my eyes, and there on my nightstand was a single rose.  Just starting to open, and a note underneath welcoming me to my new life.  I was amazed.  And touched.  And for the first time in 20 years, I felt hope.  I quickly immersed myself in the 12 steps of recovery, and in the day to day life at the house.  I found myself surrounded by people who didn't know me, but knew my life, and cared for me anyway.  It was through them that I met my higher power, my Father.  Over time I grew stronger and was able to find a job and an apartment, but I never left Hope House.  I became a counselor there and assisted in the programs of the church.  Like the food program.  Serving the people who lived on the streets feed my soul, but I never imagined that my past would find me there.  Until the day I looked up and saw Mara.  My heart stopped, then raced so hard and fast I thought it would jump right out of my chest.  I knew her the moment I saw her.  My baby girl, a woman.  And I recognized that look of pain and fear in her eyes.  And I cried.  I cried for her, and for me, and for all the bad choices I made in my life.  My pastor saw my reaction to this woman, and pulled me aside, where I poured out the whole story of my children.  I had not told anybody here that I once had a family of my own.  It was such a relief to share this last part of my past.  Without a word, I watched as the pastor sat down and talked to Mara.  Then over the next few months, I became friends with her, but I did not tell her who I was.  Not right away.  But our life stories did unfold as we spent time together serving the food together.  Now I know her as Hope, and she knows me, the real me.  The day I told her that I was her birth mother was amazing.  A lot of tears, but no anger.  Surprisingly no anger.  Just Hope, and Grace, from each other, to each other.

I feel Hope jump up from her chair, and then she is running and crying.  And hugging a stranger.  But she's not really a stranger.  I know who she is, and I am afraid to meet her.  Will she blame me?  Judge me?  Condemn me? 
No, Faith just hugs me.  And thanks me.  Me! 

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 watch Love unfold.
 
Be blessed,
Debbi
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