~ Letters to a Friend ~ Dear Mum

Dear Mum,

I struggle to begin this, for regret weighs heavily upon my heart, but I long for you to know how sorry I am. I know that, in love, you will scoff and tell me not to be silly – I see your reaction quite clearly as I write this, even though you’ve been gone for over three years now – but this needs to be said.

When I was about 7 yrs old, through an incident we need not focus on – one that in no way was your fault - I got it into my head and heart that you didn’t love me. The lie gripped me so strongly I was convinced it was the truth, and I followed that lie through my childhood, all through my teens, and way into adulthood. Only now, 38 years later, do I realise how wrong I was in accepting that lie as truth, and how much damage it has caused.

I’ve been walking with God for 19 years now, in an intimate, loving relationship, so you’d think after all this time I would’ve realised it was a lie. I mean, the truth sets free, doesn’t it. I wasn’t healing completely in that area; I still ached in part, and that ache was still affecting my confidence and other relationships. So that should’ve told me it was a lie I was holding on to.

The truth stood boldly before me last weekend, Mum. I went with Karen to visit Sue in hospital… These two women [both sisters through marriage to my brothers] still reflect their love for you, and the beauty they knew you possessed. They’ve been part of our family for well over 30 years, and it turns out they knew you very well. They loved you so much. They still do. I didn’t realise just how honoured they were/are to be your daughters-in-law. I love seeing you through their eyes.

I don’t think I’ve ever spent time with Karen like this before. Alone, in her car, driving, talking on matters deep and important. She really is beautiful, Mum. And her love for you impressed me so greatly. I cry even now, as I write about this… I was humbled by the love and respect she holds for you, even now…

I wish you were here, Mum. I so long to hold you… but more than that. I want to tell you I’m sorry. I realise now I held you prisoner to my lie for 38 years, and in doing so kept a wall between us. I see oh so clearly, and quite painfully, now, that keeping you prisoner to the lie, and to the pain born of the lie, I never got to see YOU. I knew you as Mum, and sometimes as ‘the parent who left me’. But I can’t remember thinking of you as WOMAN.

This last part grieves me so deeply. This brings me to tears instantly, my heart so thick and heavy in my chest… I mean, here I am someone who tries to see into the hearts of others, in order to present them with a reflection of their true beauty and worth, while encouraging them to be themself and tap into their passion and dreams, and I never took the time to do that with you. I hate that… If I could turn back time and change anything, it wouldn’t be the divorce you and Dad went through, or you leaving – which I now feel was not as black and white as I thought it was. I would change my relationship with you. I would step out from the label of ‘daughter’ and have you take off the ‘Mum’ hat for a while, and take time to get to know you. To see what made you tic. To view your passions, to hear of your dreams, and to somehow encourage you towards them. I regret not doing that.

As ‘mum’, I know you would tell me not to be sorry, life is what it has proven itself to be and we can’t go back and change anything. And as a WOMAN I am pretty sure you would also say that. I know you forgive me. In fact, you would say there’s nothing to forgive. You would hold nothing against me, and in your love you’d probably justify my reactions… but as a woman, and as your child, I just want to say I see you now. And, Shirley, you are beautiful in my eyes.

None of us kids – be us yours by birth or marriage – have one negative thing to say about you. We don’t recall you ever saying a harsh word about anyone. You never complained about your lot in life. You took it as it came and dealt with it as you believed you should, trying to do right by everyone. You sacrificed dreams and personal hopes to ensure your offspring knew you were there for them – and you really were, whenever we needed you. You gave us your last dollar. You gave up food for us. You gave up time for us. You served… Yes, Mum, that’s what you did – you served us all the days of your life! Right up until your strength was drained… Thank you…

…I’ve been wondering why it’s taken so long for me to see the truth of your beauty and love, and I think it’s because I finally got to walk in your shoes. You were in your early 40s when our family fell apart, with an empty nest approaching. Here I am, in my mid 40s, with an empty nest approaching. Many thoughts have been going through my head of late, such as “Who am I beyond my children?” “Is there more to me than ‘mum’ and ‘wife’…?” “Do I like the me that walks side by side with my husband?” “Do I like my husband…?” And I’m finding a lot more time to be me, but I’ve been wondering who that ‘me’ is, exactly.

God has been trying to get me to accept ‘me’ and the passion that lies within me, for years now, but I’ve struggled to do that. Shame found me when I was a little girl, stayed with me all the days of my life, and convinced me I was worth very little to anyone or anything in this world. But that was lifted from me a few weeks ago, and that opened me up to wonder more about what I, as a woman, want from life… I saw beyond the title of mum, and that of wife, and wondered what was left… In all my questioning, I found discontentment. In that, I found my mind wandering to a world beyond mum and wife, and struggled to ‘keep my place’, and through that and the desires attached to it, and in light of a few other things of old, I came to understand why families fall apart. I suddenly understood why ours did – maybe not completely, but a little more. All this helped me to feel you, to see you, to know you a little more intimately.

God impressed upon my heart years ago, “If you could write a letter to everyone you know, what would you put in it?” to which I replied, “I would look into the heart of each person, find their true worth, and present that to them…” and He has gifted me to do so, and from this the idea of a book called “Letters to a Friend” was conceived. However, He’d gone on to say to me, “Before you write Letters to a Friend, honour your mother and father…” but I struggled many times to do so. I tried, but the words for a chapter such as this never came, and I know NOW, on the other side of freedom, that the reason I couldn’t write it was because my heart was not honouring you completely. Rather, it was honouring the lie and keeping you prisoner.

Now that the lie has been revealed and truth has come, I can see YOU, and in seeing you, in seeing there were reasons beyond your control for the breaking down of our family, and in seeing the true beauty that IS you, my heart humbly bows to you and honours you as the wonderful woman, wife and mum you were, and will always be in our hearts.

The night before you died, I stood at the foot of your bed, with Sharyn and Aly at my side, and was about to pray for you once more, but as soon as I opened my heart and mouth to do so, I knew I didn’t have to, for I KNEW – with ALL that I am – that you were at peace, because you KNEW your job here on earth was done. You taught your children how to love…

Because of circumstances that came to crush you and our family many years ago, we fell apart for a time, but it was you who brought us all back together. It was you, Mum, who left us all with a legacy of love. And it was you who made our family worth holding on to. You and you alone… Thank you…

Mum, I will always thank God that I was there to hold your hand when you left this world. I will always thank God you were my mum. I will always thank God that He gave you to us for the time you were allowed to stay on this earth. I will always thank Him for opening my eyes to the truth that not only frees me and my heart, but frees you from the box I kept you in all my life. And I thank you, Mum, for being who you were and for loving all of us as you did…

Mum, I see you… the lover, the mother and the woman… You make me want to be a better, more loving and giving person, in all of these areas. In travelling in your shoes of late, I see how important it is to be true to self, but also find that being a mother is a far more worthy profession that this world proclaims. You never did get your full rewards here on earth, but I trust God had them waiting for you when He took you home.

Mum, I am stronger and more loving because of who you were. You sacrificed Self for your children, and you never complained, and I know you would never change a thing. I am so honoured to be your daughter. So blessed to have you as my mother… So humbled by the depth of love you truly possessed…

Shirley J Keevers… with all that I am, I thank God for you, and I love you…I am honoured to be your daughter.

All my love and respect

Donna

xoxoxoxox

~ Letters to a Friend ~ Before we begin

Letters to a Friend is a collection of the revelations (“letters”) God has given me over the years, which He used to bring healing to my soul, enabling me to let go of the past and step into freedom. It was conceived in me when God asked, “If you could write a letter to everyone you know, what would you put in it?” to which I replied, “I would look into the heart of each person, find their true worth and present that to them…”
Knowing writing was the only door open to me, through which I could share such revelations, Letters to a Friend grew into an idea for a book. (However, as I am not out to make money by writing about such things, blog form works just as well – if not better.)

As this seed grew within me, taking root in my soul, God imprinted upon my heart, “Before you write Letters to a Friend, honour your mother and father…” and so, before I really get into Letters to a Friend and all I yearn to share within those ‘pages’, I write the first two letters to my parents – both now deceased…

Thank you for being here, for taking the time to read, and – with all I am – I pray, hope and trust God will touch your heart somehow, and reveal something to you that will help you one way or another.

God bless you, endlessly, greatly and eternally!

With respect
Donna
xoxox

My “Do I Love?” Checklist

John 13:34
“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.

John 13:35
By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

Romans 12:10
Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves.

Romans 13:8
[ Love, for the Day is Near ] Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another, for he who loves his fellowman has fulfilled the law.

Galatians 5:13
You, my brothers, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the sinful nature ; rather, serve one another in love.

Ephesians 4:2
Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.

Hebrews 10:24
And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds.

1 Peter 1:22
Now that you have purified yourselves by obeying the truth so that you have sincere love for your brothers, love one another deeply, from the heart.

1 Peter 3:8
[ Suffering for Doing Good ] Finally, all of you, live in harmony with one another; be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble.

1 John 3:11
[ Love one another ] This is the message you heard from the beginning: We should love one another.

1 John 3:23
And this is his command: to believe in the name of his Son, Jesus Christ, and to love one another as he commanded us.

1 John 4:7
[ God's Love and Ours ] Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God.

1 John 4:11
Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.

1 John 4:12
No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.

1 Corinthians 13
Love
1If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.
4Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
8Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. 11When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. 12Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
13And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

As I view these Scriptures, the story of the Good Samaritan comes to mind, and with it comes the thought: Put the face of your [human] enemy in the place of the one that’s been bashed. Would you help them? Would you be the ‘Good Samaritan’ then…?

The Parable of the Good Samaritan
25On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
26″What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”
27He answered: ” ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”
28″You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”
29But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”
30In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he fell into the hands of robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. 31A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. 32So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. 34He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, took him to an inn and took care of him. 35The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’
36″Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”
37The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”
Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Now the question is… Where is my “Checklist”…? Answer: It can be found in my heart…
Time to place it before God and ask Him to check it for me…

~ Peace ~ Joy ~ Love ~ Love ~ Love ~

Putting on my walking shoes

Since choosing to walk with God, He has (as some of you already know) revealed to me that when my heart was broken for the very first time (when I was a very young child) – and because of the way it occurred – the spirit of intimidation took hold of me and led me through my daily life, from childhood, way into adulthood; leading me with fear and trembling, and convincing me I was unworthy, unwanted, and unlovable.

I now know that, during that extended season, I often heeded the word of anyone who I deemed more worthy than me (which was just about everybody) as being the ‘gospel’. Whatever mood led the person in authority over me or in whose shadow I stood, whatever reaction they gave, I figured it was my fault, and they were simply responding to me in a way I deserved. To me, they were not at fault. I was simply receiving what I/my character deserved. Their every word was born of what I believed was truth, and anyone who failed to talk down to me, who complimented me, who tried to encouraged me, became the “liars” in my world, and I darenot trust them… which eventually taught me not to trust in love when it was aimed at me.

The words of those I considered superior to me, who were the ones who looked down and spoke down to me, were like gods in my eyes. Their view of me, and their reaction to me (even if they were strangers and had never met me) worked to form the foundation of my character and all the hang-ups and insecurities I went on to develop…without them even knowing.

I was an extremely shy child. I would cry before I spoke to anyone. I hated eating in front of anyone. Hated having to talk to anyone… So insecure and intimidated by others was I, that I would trip over my own tongue and often appear to have a stutter ~ and that as my face burned bright red. Strangers in the street frightened me, but that was nothing compared to how I felt in the company of distant family members or a friend’s family, because I stood there with intense anticipation coursing through me, expecting to be rejected or ridiculed in some way. (I fear many felt I was a snob, but I was just too damn frightened to reveal ‘me’ to them.)

It was a horrible way to live. A terrible way to grow up. But it was the only life I knew, and it all took place in my own head, and in my own heart, and the only counsel I had through it was that of the spirit of intimidation, and my own thoughts, fears, doubts and insecurities. YET… YEARS later, I did ask God why He never spoke to me as I was growing up, and He replied, “I did. I was the positive voice. You chose to believe the negative.”

That blows my mind: I chose to believe the negative… “I” chose… I chose…!

I had the choice between heeding the positive voice (which works to raise up) over the negative, or the negative (which works to tear down) over the positive. And I chose the negative. Which tells me I opened a door to that which came to tear me down… Why…? Because, to someone with very low self-esteem, the negative voice sounds like the voice of truth. It is so easy to believe…

Last month, I turned 45. I have been walking with God since I was 26. I have believed in Jesus since I was a very young girl – just prior to having my heart broken for that very first time (and, incase you’re wondering, no, the heartbreak did not take place in a church). I have been given, by God, many revelations and words of truth and encouragement over the years, as well as great doses of love, that all worked to help set me free of the past, and to bring healing to my heart and soul – otherwise I wouldn’t able be spill my life and hang-ups before any of you . Yet, there are still times when that spirit of intimidation grips hold of my soul and I am like that child again, fearing rejection and ridicule, and I find myself stumbling over my thoughts, tongue and actions once more.

I’ve found that stepping back into the world after depression is not as easy as I thought it would be. I am pretty sure I opened the door to intimidation and fear again, by heeding the negative voices that returned in the midst of the brokenness my heart suffered, and knowing that has recently brought me to a place where I’ve been wondering how can one walk free when they are crippled ~ emotionally crippled, that is…

The Bible tells us “By His [Jesus'] stripes we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5. 1 Peter 2:24) but I’ve been wondering: When am I going to live that truth, WHOLE-HEARTEDLY…?!

One of the echoing thoughts I hear from my pastor – whether he uses these exact words or not – is: “We need to live what we believe…” Basically: Faith with actions. And I guess my spirit hears what the Holy Spirit is saying through Steve more intensely, because the man does live what he believes. As does his wife, Chris… They say actions speak louder than words. And never have I witnessed it more in any pastors than Chris and Steve Green ~ of Central Life Christian Church. It’s very inspirational… so much so I wanna be like that when I grow up…!

Anyway..

“BY HIS STRIPES I AM HEALED! MY SINS ARE FORGIVEN ME ~ IT’S TIME FOR ME TO GET UP AND WALK.” That’s what my own heart is telling me of late… and it’s finally starting to get a lot more power in its conviction than what it once did in the shadow of intimidation.

[ Hey, I just thought: We all know the negative voices can scream at us until we're bowing to the mood and control they seek to produce, making it near impossible for us to hear the "still small voice" of God... so, if the Voice of TRUTH, and LOVE, are starting to speak more loudly, while being an echo of the "still small voice" then the voices of old must be losing their power. The are being silenced. Greater freedom is coming! ...Huh! That was a revelation I just received, which stirred joy in my heart... Just thought I'd throw it in here. I hope it makes sense! Now where was I....? ]

Ya know, I can sit here for the remainder of my life, playing with negative thoughts, meditating upon all that frightens me, and number my faults and insecurities from one to infinity, but what good does that do me? I can continue to heed the voices of old, as though they are God – but then, isn’t that a form of idol worship???? And, honestly, in living this way, as a crippled heart (crippled by fear, in my case), I am not doing myself any favours, nor that of my friends and family, nor that of a Saviour who conquered sin and death for me.

By His stripes I am healed…

I can claim faith in Jesus Christ and all that He did and continues to do, and I could probably preach a half-way decent message and profess God’s love every day of my life, but if my actions don’t support my faith, if faith isn’t producing good fruit, then what does that make me…? (I’ll let you answer that one.)

It’s time I took up my bed and walked: Faith AND actions…

I believe Jesus Christ is who He claimed to be. I believe He came to this earth to reveal the true heart of God to ‘man’. I believe it is our purpose, as believers, to become more like Christ so we, too, can reflect God’s heart and love to this world. I believe Jesus was crucified for our iniquities. I believe by His stripes we are healed. I believe He died and rose again. I believe it is for freedom He set us free. I believe the voices of old are not worthy of my time and attention. I believe Jesus is the way, the truth and the life that leads me directly to the heart and presence of God. I believe I am a new creation in God, through Christ. I believe God sent the Holy Spirit to counsel me, and guide me through this life; to heal wounds of old and free me to live life more abundantly. I believe I am permitted to live my life without fear, doubt, and all that works to manipulate and control me. I believe I have a purpose. I believe in becoming more like Christ I will be able to reflect the love of a God who has proven Himself to be far more real, and far more trustworthy to me, than anyone else in my entire life. I believe Christ took the punishment worthy of sin, that was mine, so I may walk freely into God’s presence and into eternity ~ which, like life, has already started. I believe these things and so much more… and I believe it’s time I surrendered my ENTIRE heart to believing, so I may get up and walk in a way that reflects true faith… not fear ~ for faith without works, is dead. (James 2:26)

I also believe that God so loved you that He sent His only Son to save you (from sin, death and ALL that has come to tear you down in this life) …and I believe that alone makes YOU someone special…! But it’s up to you to choose to believe that…

Isaiah 53:5
But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; The chastisement for our peace was upon Him, And by His stripes we are healed.

1 Peter 2:24
[Jesus] bore our sins in His own body on the tree, that we, having died to sins, might live for righteousness—by whose stripes you were healed.

James 2:26
For as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is dead also.

Out of the Grey

When I write about spiritual matters, I do so from experience. I don’t read the Bible and work it to suit my theories or theology then scribble it on paper with the hope of looking spiritual, intelligent or wise. I certainly don’t do it for the attention or for accolades, because that’s something I’ve always been uncomfortable with, and often has me running for a place to hide. Rather, I experience ‘it’, then record it.

I do not write with the hope of seeking pity. I hate that, to be quite truthful. I do, however, write so others can find someone to relate to, and, above all else, to reflect where God has been in my life, how He moved, and how He works all things out for good for those who love Him.

[SIDENOTE: It's not that He doesn't want to work all things out for good for those who don't love Him, but He gave us our own will, and if we choose to walk outside His protective will and love, then He must let us go, and the consequences are born from cause and effect... but He's always there, waiting and hoping we'll return to Him, so He can clean up the mess we make, help us get back on our feet, and live in the freedom and love Christ ushered through to this world...]

However, I don’t record every aspect of my experience, or the path I was on and who I met along the way, as it would take too long, and I don’t always like to share who it was I met on the path if the path took a bad turn ~ and that for their sake. But, all in all, I try to be as open and as honest as possible, without anyone getting hurt, and while covering the main points.

Somewhere in the last few blogs [on my MySpace site: http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=435430944&blogId=532969622], I’ve shared that my passion has waned over time – in every area of my life. So much so that every ‘dream’, or vision, or hope, I have held since stepping into God’s presence 18 years ago, has died. I even got to the place where I no longer cared that the dreams were dead. I was happy ~ so to speak ~ for them to be so, and had no desire whatsoever to have them resurrected. That’s not to say my faith that God IS, or that He loves me, had waned, just my dreams of what this life ‘should’ look like.

In recent blogs, I’ve also touched upon the belief that “I’m not worthy”… but I haven’t shared that while God’s been sending many ‘workers’ (GOD BLESS THEM ENDLESSLY!!!!) to save me from sinking deeper into a pit of drudgery, my heart has been growing more and more discouraged – despite the lifelines He sends.

This past week, since God encouraged me to dream again, I’ve not hurried off to do so. Rather, I’ve chosen not to, and just asked God to lead me where He wills me to go. However, quite suddenly, and from way out of left field, an old dream came back to reveal itself, and as I looked upon it, my heart ached for what I once considered beautiful, but ended up broken.

During this ‘memory’ – I guess it was – I learned that my heart had cared for it more than I wanted to admit, even to myself…

(For those of you who know of the broken friendship I refer to in another blog, this memory did not belong to that part of my life. It was connected to another matter.)

Rather than ask God if that was His way of trying to get me to dream again, I closed my tear-filled eyes and shook the thought from my head. However, it returned again and again over the past week, and each time it came I denied it, until I felt as though my heart had been misplaced.

I refuse to put my hand to that dream again. I’m afraid it would have to come knocking on my door this time before I would consider embracing it again. I would open the door to it, I would welcome it in to my heart and arms, but I will not look for it, or set my eyes upon it, or allow hope or faith to go near it… until its in-my-face-obvious it’s what God wants. But in denying it, in pushing it from my ‘wish list’, my heart grew wearier.

Again, I haven’t lost my faith that God is who He says He is. I have not lost sight of the road to eternity. I have not taken my hope from God. I still believe Jesus is Lord – with all that I am, I believe that. I know He has proven Himself to me over and over again during the past 18 years, so that isn’t what’s troubling me. It’s just that without passion, and without a dream, my heart has grown disheartened, and I wander through life feeling somewhat lost… Not sorry for myself – just lost.

Prior to going to church this morning, that was my realisation: I had grown disheartened. In fact, I had grown so disheartened that the main thing that kept me going each day was the thought that one day I would be in God’s presence, without this world and realm standing between us.

Tim and I ummed and ahhed about going to church this morning. When one is disheartened, most things seem pointless, even going to church… and, as it’s the second last day of the school holidays, and Tim’s holidays, we did consider having a family day out and about somewhere, but, in the end, we went. Mainly because Matt has somewhere to be this afternoon, and we wanted to make sure he didn’t miss it by us taking him off to the end of wherever.

I am so glad it turned out that way. As you will hear for yourself come Tuesday (I believe it is) on our church’s website “Central Life Christian Church”, Steve spoke about ‘grey’ areas. It’s worth the listen, and it will help make more sense of what I’m writing… He spoke of darkness taking on light and becoming grey, and of light taking on darkness and becoming grey, and how we can live in the grey without even being aware of it, but I didn’t take notes and I haven’t the greatest memory, so check it out when you can.

As I was listening, I was asking God what my grey areas were, and asked Him to be specific, even if it hurt. And He was, and it did, lol. And He made it known to me through Steve mentioning that when we agree with darkness, we are worshipping it, because it opposes God… (Or something like that. That is not a word for word quote, and if you wish to comment upon that, first listen to Steve’s message.)

While Steve was speaking upon this, I was reminded of when God gave me an image of Himself, several years ago. I saw an image of Him standing before Satan. God had sorrow etched upon His brow, and I knew there was nothing He could do to change the situation before Him, because of the free will He had given to me.

Satan stood before God and, with a cocky look on his face, knew, and said to God, “I got You, haven’t I. I’m hurting You, aren’t I…!” And there I was, on the ground between them, on my knees in worship, facing Satan, and I was saying to Satan (as I worshipped him – UNKNOWINGLY!), “You’re right. I’m not worthy.”

On remembering this, this morning, I realised I had returned to the vomit that I fed off while growing up, and once again bowed my knee to the enemy, in worship, by agreeing with his view of me, and not God’s. I was starting to remind myself that I wasn’t worth it – AGAIN! – and, in doing so, I had turned my back towards God, even though my heart was for Him. I had stepped out of the Light, out of the Truth, and into the grey, heading directly for Darkness, with open arms, all the while wondering where God was…! (hmmmm! Somebody slap me! )

As I said to Steve after the sermon, this ‘greyness’ we Christians have taken on, has become like a plague.

We worship Satan without even realising. The negativity, the sense of hopelessness, the denying what God says about us and has for us, is equivalent to all the ‘black and white’ sins named in the Bible.

God basically says, “Through my Son, you have been made new. Though your sins were as scarlet, you have been washed as white as snow. You are my child. You are forgiven. You are loved. You have been given the power to overcome. You have a purpose. You have My Spirit to help you and guide you in and through all things…” and more… but we often lose heart when trouble is upon us. We believe the bad report and not the truth that comes from God’s heart. And when we deny the truth, we deny God… and when you deny God, darkness is your master, whether you can see that or not. There are no other options in this spiritual battle.

And that’s what I was doing.

I don’t write this to condemn. There is no condemnation in Christ. Convicition, yes – which I love, for that produces spiritual growth and maturity – but not condemnation. I also write this on the other side of misery. I went to church this morning, disheartened, and I left feeling enlightened and empowered. The heaviness, and the darkness over my heart, had lifted. As it does, the Truth set me free, and it was done so in, and on the foundation of, and through Love…

If there is a heaviness in your heart, if darkness has blanketed your confidence, hope, joy, peace, faith, or anything else in your life, turn your back on the lies… and turn back towards God ~ who truly does turn all things for good for those who love Him…

Love without conditions

~ Our youngest daughter ~ Kathleen ~

I just had a really horrible thought: What if your child never felt safe or welcome in your home…? Oh my… How sad would that be.

I was sitting here thinking about my kids a little earlier, and that’s when that thought popped into my head. My heart ached greatly as I imagined what it would be like for these tender-hearted people to live in a household where they did not know love and/or acceptance. I hated the thought of them walking through each day not knowing Mum loved them; wondering if she was going to react in a negative way if they put a foot wrong – be it accidental or otherwise.

I’m not a perfect mum, but I’m far more relaxed and loving than I used to be. I’ve made my mistakes. I hold regrets. There are times I flinch in memory of the temper I once possessed – before God healed this heart of mine. But I dearly love my children, and have come to not simply love them, but like them, also. Not only do I seek to make my kids feel loved every single day, I have found in my heart the ability to respect them as individuals, as well. Their opinion matters. Their feelings matter. Their hearts matter. THEY matter!

This house in which we live is not just MY home. Neither is it just “Dad’s” home. It’s not a place where Mum and Dad rule and the children must work to fit in with our moods, comfort and agenda. This house is their home, too. This is their ‘safe haven’, and a place where they can just relax and be who they are, without fear of judgement.

When the world gets too heavy, when challenges become too overwhelming, when dead-ends threaten to bring them undone, and broken hearts leave them on their knees, I want them to know they can come home and find comfort in this place, and in my arms, without fearing condemnation, ridicule, “I told you so’s” or anything else that would leave them feeling dejected in some way.

Can you imagine living that way? Could you imagine being born to parents who never appreciated you for who you are? Who only loved you if you performed the way they expected, or demanded you to? Perhaps you do, or did, live this way… If so, my heart goes out to you in a huge, empathetic way. And if you are a parent who has failed to show unconditional love to the child you brought into this world, the child God entrusted to you, then I ache for your child and hold you both in my prayers…and I do so without judgement. I’ve been there, too.

I’ve come to see that to love without conditions is a beautiful thing, indeed, and to be loved unconditionally is equally as wonderful. And to make someone feel so special simply because they were who they are, and not because you want anything from them in return, is an extremely grand experience.

Are you aware that God loves you unconditionally? Are you aware that when He invites you into His ‘home’ ~ into His kingdom ~ and desires you to be in a Father-child relationship with Him, He does so because He not only loves you for who you are, but because He wants you to live in this world feeling safe, secure, confident and acceptable?

We all know John 3:16. We all know “God so loved the world that He sent His only Son”. But do we live with that awareness in our heart? Are YOU truly aware that He loves you, without condition, or has the love of others left you believing that God couldn’t possibly love ‘someone like you’…? Perhaps religion has told you that He will only love you if you behave a certain way, and live by the law?

You are loved, unconditionally. You may never know how much God adores you until you willingly enter a one-on-one relationship with Him, but, as one who doubted such love for years, who ran from such love until God pursued me so much that the only place I wanted to run was into His arms, I can vouche that His love is real, and pure, and not based on anything you’ve done, or who the world claims you are. He just loves you.

YOU are so very precious to God. And so are your children…

~ Our second oldest child, Amy, and her daughter, Diaz ~

“You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:6-8

Have Mercy

I heard the echo of a breaking heart
as its owner fell to her knees
Through her tears, I heard it beg
“Please, have mercy on me…”

Through every beat and every tear
great sorrow was painfully given
and I knew this heart, with its fading beat
was growing weary of living

“Have mercy on me, I beg of you
please, I can take no more
I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you
and I’m not worth fighting for…”

Upon hearing its cry, and seeing its distress
my soul was humbled as it deeply grieved
and I was convicted as I realised
it was my heart speaking to me…

Sometimes we can be our own greatest enemy. Not forgiving ourselves for our own shortcomings. Never daring to believe anything good of ourselves. Not deeming ourselves worthy of love or anything good. Abusing our body with additives and addictions we know will never benefit us beyond a moment of pleasure ~ a pleasure that often gives way to a sense of guilt and regret.

The above poem, and this blog, was born from my own heart. I struggle with weight, and I am too lazy to do anything about it half the time. But what’s worse than that, and what has played a mighty big hand in ‘helping’ me gain weight, is the “you’re not worth it” statement that echoes through the corridors of my heart, which I only recently realised was still there when I heard my heart plea for mercy.

That cry for mercy came when I was contemplating having a snack. I heard my heart [the part of me that I deemed not worthy: ME] painfully cry, “Please, stop abusing me. I’ve had enough…”

Honestly, it was like listening to the cry of an abused woman, or child, having been beaten by the hands of ‘love’, and I saw my heart as one would see an abused woman or child cowering in the corner, broken, weeping, ashamed for being alive, because the one they love the most has not only rejected them but damned them to a life of hatred and abuse. On seeing it, grief tore through me, for I realised I have treated myself this way all my life…

How many times have you damned yourself? How many times have you figured YOU aren’t worth ‘it’ -whatever ‘it’ may be? How many times will you dare to love others but curse yourself when no one is looking? How many times will you abuse yourself physically, mentally and emotionally, before you finally give up on yourself altogether…?

Jesus died to set us free. Totally free. Not to be born again into slavery. Not to be slave to sin, fear, the flesh, or anything else. But to be free from these things, and to give us life and that more abundantly. But if we’re going to continue to believe we’re “not worth it” then we are never going to receive all God has for us, all LOVE has for us, and we are never going to have hearts that are truly free.

“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.” Galatians 5:1

Family Matters ~ a short story

Emma stood at the edge of the cliff, staring blindly at the jagged rocks far below. Hugging her arms about her chest and the breaking heart within, she told the cold world about her, “They didn’t tell me it would be like this…”

A tear ~ silent beneath the mourning of her soul, hot against the iciness of her cheeks ~ slipped over her young skin and plummetted to the earth… Her soul longed to follow after.

…It was the squawking of a seagull that drew her attention to the heavens, and the ominous dark clouds hovering over ocean’s horizon that drew her heart’s eye to times long gone.

Her mother ~ frail and trembling beneath the weight of cancer ~ lay upon the bed she had shared with her husband for less than ten years. Emma had only been 7 at the time… Another ten years had passed since then.

Remembering, Emma used every ounce of her heart to recall that day in her mother’s room. In part, it was a memory she did not wish to hold on to, yet, at the same time, it was a memory she treasured.

Stepping into her mother’s room, Emma had been careful not to make a noise, watching with a mixture of dread and wonder as her mother lay propped up against a mound of pillows, staring silently out through the door leading out into the garden; watching the rain hit the earth…

“I love gardening…” her mother startled her by saying; Emma fearing she had disturbed her mother when she had been so careful not to. Directly to Emma now, Mother smiled… and while love shone in her eyes, pain was etched deep in the lines marking her lips, eyes and brow, causing Emma’s heart to ache greatly.

Mother inhaled with great effort, then, on a hiccup and a sigh, reached a hand out to her firstborn. “Come…”

Emma hesitated, recalling how Father had warned her never to disturb Mother’s rest.

Mother’s smile fell away as sorrow struck her face. “Darling… please… Come sit with me… It’s okay,” she reassured… “It’s okay…”

Emma couldn’t help it. As soon as she reached Mother’s side and Mother drew her into her arms, guiding her to lay by her side, Emma wept hard and long… It had felt like an eternity since she had been allowed to hold her mum, and she knew – somehow, she knew it would be an eternity before she would hold her again…

As Emma feared the moment where she would have to let go, Mother tilted the young girl’s face towards her and smiled through silent tears. “You are Mummy and Daddy’s little princess,” Mother breathed through quivering lips; the arm she had used to cradle Emma drawing her daughter a little closer. “You will always be our little princess…”

It was at that moment Father stepped into the room, annoyance rushing in with him. “Emma! What are you doing?! Your mother needs rest…!”

“Joe, it’s all right…” Mother wearily demanded. “I needed to hug our princess.”

“You need rest,” Joe insisted, guiding Emma from her mother’s arms…

Broken, Emma caught her breath, sensing a pain in her chest like none she had ever experienced before… It would be ten years later, as Emma stood on the edge of the cliff, convinced life was not worth living, before she would realise that the moment her father had ripped her out of her mother’s arms deep grief had come to take the place where her heart once dwelled… and her heart had remained with her mother.

…Looking up at the dark clouds on the horizon, she wondered if that was the reason she felt her soul had been buried with her mother… Because her mother possessed her heart.

As grief sliced through her once more, Emma through open her arms and with more passion than she knew she possessed screamed out towards the heavens…! “God…!!!!!!” she bellowed… “Give her back…! She was the only person whoever loved me! Give her back!!”

Upon her knees she fell, weeping long and hard into her open palms; her heart – or what remained of it – violently twisting within her tight chest; threatening to break her completely.

With a strained whisper, she managed to choke out, “It wasn’t meant to be like this…”

Holding her stomach now, with her blurred vision set on the rocks far below, she mourned for the child within… “I’m not your little princess anymore, mumma…”

Momentarily, she closed her eyes, sensing more tears rising from the pain that would not cease, only to swiftly open them again as she heard the rocks calling to her; beckoning her to come find peace…

Peace… She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt peace… Not since Dwayne had held her that night, vowing to love her forever… But then, afterwards, after she had succumb to his sweet words of forever love, he had cast her aside like a used cigarette butt… taking her from her perfect fairytale and tossing her into a nightmare that just would not end…

He stopped replying to her text messages that day, and no longer took her calls. Whenever she dared to stop by his house, his mother would tell Emma he was not home…until the woman had finally felt sorry for the girl and suggested Emma find a new ‘friend’…

If that hadn’t been bad enough, his mates now looked at her as though she were a joke; forever sniggering when she walked by… cruel taunting laughter in their eyes… disgust tilting the corner of their smirking lips… She had believed they all hated her now, until she realised each and every one of them believed they could be next in line… as though she were a prostitute, but worthy of no money or respect, whatsoever.

She had felt so used. So dirty. And nothing she did, and nothing any of her friends said, made those sensations go away.

Dwayne had been her one and only love, and she had been convinced he loved her as much as she loved him. But, on looking back, able to see him through the eyes of reality and not fantasy now, she believed that if he had truly loved her, he would’ve willingly waited as she had desired to.

“All is not as bad as it seems,” a voice startled her by saying…

Somewhat frightened, she looked up to see her father standing by her, tears in his eyes.

With a mixture of anger and dread, she looked away, not wanting him to know what she was feeling beyond the hatred she held for him. “What are you doing here?!”

His voice was so tender it stunned her. “I don’t know… I just had this urge to come here… Your mother thought it was a good idea–”

“She’s not my mother,” Emma abruptly interjected. “She’s your wife, and that’s all she is to me.”

“She loves you, Em…”

“Don’t call me that…! I hate it when you call me that…!”

Silence followed her outburst and just when she thought he had gone, he came to stand directly beside her kneeling, and trembling, frame, his vision cast out to sea. “I miss her, too…”

A new stream of tears shot forth, and Emma rushed to silence them. They had never spoke about her mother… Not once… and she wasn’t sure she wanted to do so now. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Surely Joanne needs you to do something around the house.”

“I loved your mother, Emma…”

His words struck her like a ligthening bolt through her chest. She caught her breath and held it for the longest time, guarding herself against further heartache. “Then why did you remarry so soon…?”

With a sigh, he shrugged and kicked a loose stone over the edge of the cliff… Emma watched it disappear into the waving sea. She looked up at her father just in time to see him offer a tilted grin and wipe a tear from his cheek.

“Seemed like a good idea at the time…” He glanced at her and Emma felt a foreign sensation move in her chest. They hadn’t made eye contact in over ten years…

“You regret it?”

“I have a few regrets, yes.”

“You don’t love Joanne…?”

With a trouble grimace, he dared to say, “You would probably prefer I didn’t, wouldn’t you…?”

She looked away, not answering… both of them already knowing the truth.

“I met Joanne long before your mother became ill, but, as nice as she was, I was never attracted to her. It wasn’t until she started coming around to visit us, after your mother… Well… after… It wasn’t until then that we really started to talk, and she just seemed to fit so well into our family. She cooked for us; cleaned… took you kids to and from school when I wasn’t able to. And your brother loved her…”

“I hated her…”

“I know.”

“…but that didn’t seem to matter to anyone but me…”

“Yes, it did…”

Emma grunted, shaking her head as she did. “Whatever.”

“It mattered to me, Em -uh – Emma…and it mattered to Joanne. She never tried to take the place of your mother. She just loved us…” As Emma shook her head once more, her father asked, “Is it so wrong to want to love and be loved?”

His question slapped her hard, hitting a raw nerve.

“She’s no different than you and I, Em… Joanne has a heart just like you and I… only, she has to keep it back from you because the constant rejection is tearing her apart. Do you know what it feels like to be rejected, Em…? To be openly rejected every single day…?”

Yes, she did… but the grief stopped her from saying so.

“A person’s worth isn’t based on the blood they have in their veins. Joanne is no less worthy of love than your mother, just because she doesn’t have the same blood as you… Your mother was so special to me, Emma. I loved her with all that I was. I didn’t want her to die…” On that last note his voice broke. He stepped away, just as somewhere deep inside Emma love broke through. She reached for him, but he didn’t see her do so.

With his back to her now, and over his shoulder, he said, “I’m just a man, Emmie…”

Oh, God, she inwardly wept… He hadn’t called her that since she was a little girl.

“I didn’t have the power to heal your mother… but if I did have — oh, God,” he wept, his face tilting towards the heavens… “If I did have it, I would’ve used it…”

She wanted to run to him, to hold him, to take his pain from him… but… she just couldn’t…

“I’ve tried, Emmie… all these years I’ve tried to love you, your brother, and Joanne, while still mourning over the loss of your mother. She was my best friend… But now,” he told her, turning his side to her, but not his face, “now I see I’ve failed everyone… Joanne is convinced she did wrong by all of us on entering into our lives… Your brother never talks.” He smiled there, and for a brief second, Emma was transported back in time, to when he used to laugh and play with her… He was the first man she ever loved… “I can’t even see him half the time beneath that black hair of his…”

Despite herself, Emma smiled. “He’s a good kid, Dad… He just has a lot of emotions and things to deal with, too, ay…”

“Yeah… but I just wish he’d bring them to me…”

She rose to her feet there, forgetting the full extent of her own worries, suddenly feeling a lot older than what she had a few minutes earlier. Stepping towards him, she said, “Why would he…? When was the last time you trusted your emotions to him…? Gee, Dad, this is the first time you’ve opened up to me since… well, since… forever! You stopped mentioning mum the day she died. If you cried, we never saw it. As far as James and I were concerned, you never mourned over mother. It was like you’d simply shut the door to a stranger, and got on with your life. And it was your life, Dad…”

Regret carved its way across his features, but now that the truth was finally being unleashed, Emma continued to face it, without compassion towards the man she called father…

“James never wanted to play soccer. He hated soccer. But you insisted he play because ‘all boys should play sport’, and it fit nicely into your schedule. James wanted a guitar, not a soccer ball. Did you know that…? Did you care…? And what about me, Dad…? I hated ballet lessons. I don’t dance. I don’t like to dance. I like to surf, Dad… I love the feel of the salt water on my skin; the exhilleration that races through my soul when I catch that perfect wave… I even love the relief that hits me when I rise to take a breath after a strong wave has smashed me back to the earth. Dad…” she demanded, moving to make him look at her; neither his tears nor hers stopping her from spilling forth that which had been bottled up inside her for so long, “did you ever stop to look at us…? To see who we are…? Did you ever stop to think that we are more than a reflection of you…?”

Over quaking lips, he barely managed to get out, “I’m sorry…” and Emma threw herself into his arms…

…Some time later, when the tears had finally stopped, and he tilted her face to look up at him, just as her mother had done that fatal day, Emma knew his confession of love was coming and she quickly broke away, before he could say it.

Unable to face him now, she said, “I’m not your little princess anymore, Dad…” She waited for a response, but when none came she dared to face him again. If she never knew his love again, she would take the memory of his embrace, and the weight of the tears he had shared, and carry them with her until her dying day… for only now did she realise just how much she loved him; how much she needed him.

“I know I haven’t been the best daughter… but… I was scared, Dad… And,” she added on lowering her head, “I hated you. On the day mother died, you took me from her arms, when she wanted to hold on to me, and I never got to hold her again… and I hated you for it… When Dwayne started to show interest in me, I felt like I was somebody’s princess again. And when he held me…” she sniffed, unable to hold back several stray tears, “uh…when he held me, I…” She closed her eyes, tightly… remembering.

“Em…”

“No, Dad,” she pleaded, inhaling deeply, in the vain attempt of calming her soul, “I want you to know…” Directly at him, she confessed, “I hadn’t felt that loved since mother held me that day. I blamed you from taking that love from me… and I thanked Dwayne for giving it back… but, Dad,” she wept as he came rushing towards her, pulling her into his arms and holding her securely, “he didn’t love me…”

…Later that night, as Joanne prepared to wash the dinner plates, Emma stepped into the kitchen, bracing herself for further confrontation.

Joanne glanced over her shoulder, offering Emma a feeble smile as she turned her sad eyes away. “I was three years older than you when I lost my baby,” Joanne stunned Emma by saying, continuing on with her chores.

“You had a baby…”

Joanne nodded… “She died one month before she was due to be born…”

Unexpectedly, sympathy gripped hold of Emma’s soul, tightly, and, with both hands, she held her stomach, sensing the child within.

“Her name was –no… her name is Krystal…” with a faint grin, she said, “my little gem…” She turned to the bench in the centre of the room, and continued to pack, clean and sort leftovers. “I never got to hold her… I was a single mum, and as my mother was always there to help me, when she told me I would always regret holding my deceased child, I believed her… but she was wrong. I’ve always regretted not holding her… Oh, don’t get me wrong, I don’t hold that against my mother… but there is a bond between mother and child that not even death can sever, and I miss her so much that sometimes I wish I got to touch her just once…”

Directly to Emma, she pushed beyond her inner torment and humbly confesed, “I’ve been praying for you… I’ve known for awhile now you’re pregnant. I saw the pregnancy test in the bin when I emptied it.”

“You didn’t say anything?”

“I figured you’d say something when you were ready. At least, I prayed you would. I didn’t tell your father…”

With shoulders lowered, Emma admitted, “I keep waiting for him to tell me he hates me.”

“Why would he hate you?”

“Because I’m not a little princess anymore…”

Joanne grimaced as her shoulders rose in what appeared to be determination. “I’m sorry, darlin’, but I won’t have you think that way. You weren’t treated as a lady should be treated, as a woman needs to be treated, but that doesn’t make you any less worthy of love than anyone else… If our worth is based on what we do, then none of us are truly worthy of love, Emma… but, our true worth is found solely in God. In His eyes, and because of His heart, we are… And, truly, in the end, it’s only His opinion of us that matters.” She smiled, and added, “You will always be His little princess. Always. No matter what… Darling, with all His heart, He loves you…”

Emma recalled some of the sermons Joanne had taken her to in the past, remembered the words of love, but, “I don’t feel it.”

“You don’t feel my love, either, Emma… yet,” she faltered over trembling lips, hugging her arms about herself as though she were guarding herself against the cold, “I love you as much as I love Krystal, and,” she relayed, breathlessly, emotionally, “I love her with all that I am…”

When Joanne moved an arm in order to dry her tears, Emma felt like that seven year old child again, but instead of running into her mother’s arms, she ran into those of her step-mother… “I’m sorry,” was all she could say. “I’m sorry…”

When their tears had almost stopped, Joanne stepped back to look into Emma’s eyes, not letting her go… “I can’t promise you happily ever after, and I can’t take away your pain, no matter how much I truly long to, but I will garantee I will be here for you whenever you need me, and I will always love you…”

From the depths of her heart, Emma wept, “Thank you…” and with every part of her being, she meant it…

…That day turned their lives around… but not because everything was perfect all of a sudden – because it wasn’t; there was still a lot of healing and adjusting to do- but because for the first time in her life, Emma realised she was somebody worth loving, and so were the members of her family… even if they did not possess the same blood in their veins… for it wasn’t their blood that mattered… it was His…

© Donna Keevers Driver
February 13, 2010
All rights reserved

Love on a Silver Platter: The truth behind the fairytale

(Originally posted on my Myspace site)

Come April 25th of this year, Tim and I will be married 18 years… You’ve seen the photos, the 6 children, the romantic prose, the love and laughter and closeness we share… but what you cannot see is the foundation of what our love and unity has been built upon.

There have been times during the past 18 years when women have looked upon me and my marriage with envy. Times where they mourned over being single, or over being married to the ‘wrong one’, and made me feel like I didn’t understand what they were going through… almost to the point of me feeling guilty for finally having something good in my life.

They never noted the many years I spent as a single mother, before Tim came along — or the aloneness I suffered during my childhood, and even more so in my teens when my mother left me behind, and our family fell apart, and I wandered from one lover to another looking for someone to LOVE me in return -for more than just one night… before Tim came along… They never saw the heartache I suffered all those years, up until I met Tim, when I was 26. They never witnessed the grief that brought me to the point of wanting to suicide; of not wanting to live in a world without love…

They didn’t observe the struggles and heartache Tim and I went through in bringing two broken families together and trying to transform them into one functional unit. They didn’t see the tears, and the frustration, and the anger we suffered through and often tossed at one another. They didn’t see the aloneness I suffered while being loved physically. Or the prayers I prayed in moments of desparation, begging God to either give me a heart for this stranger at my side, or take him away. They didn’t see how cheap I felt at times, laying naked in the arms of my husband while wondering where my heart and love for him had gone…

And, truth be told, as they observed me with envy, and sometimes with bitter envy, it really pissed me off.

Married women get lonely, too…

Married women cry, too…

And I reckon married men probably do, too.

Signing that wedding certificate doesn’t stop a man or a woman from being human. In fact, it’s in marriage that a man and woman will reveal just how human they can be – where our ‘love’ is tested the most… Marriage is not all roses and chocolates… or, for me, it’s not all tulips and coffee (which I am not drinking for awhile )… Often it is bloody hard work, and sometimes it really sucks.

…Sometimes I think we totally rip little girls off by reading fairytales to them. There are no knights in shining armour out there. There are no castles awaiting their princess. There are dragons to be slayed, yes, but no one bothers to tell us they would be in our own heart and mind and we’d have to conquer them ourselves because there are very few men out there willing to fight for the woman they claim to love once these so-called dragons are let out of the dungeons of our soul.

I have to wonder if there are so many depressed girls and women because they got it into their head when they were kids that the fairytale is out there somewhere… but it’s not! And when they discover their knight’s dirty feet, or hold a broken relationship in their hands, or have no hero to hold them at night, they’re left to feel unloveable, incomplete, worthless, and anything but the beautiful princess the stupid books told them they would, should, or could be…

Now, here I am, after being on the ‘romantic battlefield’ with Tim, for 18 years, FINALLY at a place (on the other side of depression — and I have suffered depression MANY times during the past 18 years ) daring to enjoy the moment, despite the empty nest swiftly approaching, and again I want to rise up and openly, and quite passionately, declare “I FOUGHT FOR THIS PRIZE! TIM FOUGHT FOR IT! We were not handed this ‘love’ on a silver platter. It’s been hard at times. Damn hard. And there have been times where I not only wanted out of this marriage, but I hated this man in my arms. I hated him…”

I want to cry out: Don’t come around here telling me how blessed I am while feeling sorry for yourself, or telling me how fortunate I am while secretly hating me for what I’ve got, until you suffer what I’ve suffered; until you fight as I have fought; until you have bled the tears I have bled… Don’t envy me, until you are willing to fight the good fight with, and often for, that knight with dirty feet. Don’t dare tell me I don’t understand what it’s like to be alone until you walk the path I have walked since I was about 7 years old, to WAY beyond the day when I married at the age of 27… Don’t curse me because I finally have love, because your loneliness has made you bitter. Don’t do these things to me, and I won’t tell you just how pissed off your attitude makes me.

Yes, I have a wonderful marriage and a wonderful man… but we fought the dragons, we struggled against voices of old, we wrestled insecurities and jealousies, and we stayed when it would’ve been so damn easy to walk away.

On celebrating Valentine’s Day –which we do not take that seriously, by the way– I did not fill the houses with roses (or tulips), niether was the house spotless, and neither did I look like a princess when Tim returned home from work to find me ironing and growing weary of summer’s humidity. Rather, we just took each other into our arms, as we were, and just took the day and the moods as they came… and rather than seek flowers and champagne, chocolate and candlelight, I praised God for helping us make it this far, for rescuing us from the pit of ‘romance hell’ and I celebrated the battles we had won, the scars we now wear as medals of survival and affection, and noted that challenges will come again, hard times will come again, moments of differences would come again, but, when they do, Tim will be here, and I will be here, and God will be here, and, together, the three of us will work to make all things right again… because that’s what LOVE does… and that’s why Tim and I still are one another’s valentine, all these years later… NOT because we were handed ‘love’ on a silver platter…

Peace, Joy, and TRUE LOVE to your souls…
Donna
xoxox

In Your Arms

Our Wedding Day ~ 25/4/92

For a moment of madness
I had my eyes set on what I couldn’t see
focusing on what I didn’t have
and what I couldn’t be

Then like a light streaming from heaven
falling tenderly on my heart and bringing truth
I had my eyes opened
to the love I have in you

In your arms I have found freedom
a place where I can be myself
where rejection doesn’t touch me
and I don’t have to pretend to be something else

I can stand before you naked
I can lay with you without fear
I can share all my secrets
and know that you will hear

We have found freedom in commitment
which makes me confident in this:
When today ends, my husband
I will again find your kiss

We can enter our tomorrows
knowing we’ll still be in the other’s heart
for we have freedom in love’s commitment
and our home in each other arms

© Donna Keevers Driver