It was just a couple of years since I escaped to the Women and Children in Crisis Center with my children in order to leave an abusive marriage. I was grateful for the newfound peace and safety that I felt within the walls of my home. However, financial pressures due to a mound of debt that was left behind and the financial responsibility of raising my three daughters completely on my own with just a teacher’s salary, weighed heavily on my mind. It was December. Christmas was approaching and I didn’t have any extra money. Not a dime! How would I buy gifts for my children? Should I let them dream and wish for Santa? Or should I sit down with my oldest two daughters (13 and 10 years old) and explain to them the situation; that Santa would not be able to visit this year.

"Sister Hug"

Playing in the snow! You can see my little blue car in the background.

In addition to worrying about extra money for Christmas gifts and treats, the tires on my small car were completely bald and I knew it was just a matter of time before I had a flat tire or worse an accident on the icy snowy roads because of tires with no traction. I had gone to the tire shop and asked what it would cost to replace the tires and it was almost exactly the same amount of money that I had set aside for tithing that month. I went home and started to think and try and figure out how I was going to pay this extra expense. I knew that the safety of my children was the most important thing and so in my mind I started to rationalize whether or not I should pay my tithing that month.

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I sat in my closet and cried today; full on belly shaking sobs! It was different than the faucet of tears that slowly leaked out of my eyes while sitting on an over-heated plane during a delayed flight last weekend. I guess crying like that is normal when you are pregnant. Anyway that is what I've heard. I never experienced it like this in my previous pregnancies. It kind of makes me want to not go out at all. I feel like I have tissue-paper skin and the smallest thing could set me off. The challenges of pregnancy at this time in my life have felt so over-whelming at times.

I've chalked it up to having a huge placenta. That "baby" (which is growing my real baby) can secrete a lot of hormones or at least that is what I have read. And since the doctor has told me it's located in the wrong spot in my uterus, it must be over-compensating. At least that is the vibe I get from it when I talk to it, which I do a lot. Yeah! That's another thing I've been doing recently. I have been talking to my placenta; willing it to crawl up the side of my uterus where it's supposed to be. Some people talk to their unborn child and I talked to my placenta. And so maybe it's working so hard to get into place that it's just sweating out those crying hormones like crazy, which is making me feel a little cray-cray.

While I sat there in my closet, full on belly-shaking, sobbing tears, and staring at my umbilical hernia which seemed to be popping out further which each sob and shake, I heard her voice. My mama's voice. I had to quiet myself down to hear it again more clearly this time. It was definitely her voice in my head and the words that she would choose. "This too will pass. You are going to be just fine. You're stronger than you realize. I'm here with you! You are not alone. Go drink some water and lay down. You'll feel better when you wake." And then she was gone. Of course I started to cry again but this time they were quiet and grateful tears. I went from feeling self-pity and desperation to feeling loved and peaceful. I was grateful for that experience and that my mama was able to communicate to me those thoughts. She wouldn't have been able to had she still been living. Her mind and body had been slowly fighting off the effects of post-polio for years and I had yearned in her later years to feel nurtured by her. I never thought I would again and then today happened and I did and it was so unexpected and appreciated.

I did feel better when I awoke and more at peace, despite the physical challenges I am facing in this pregnancy which seem to intensify daily. I am grateful to have this opportunity to be a mother again and to know that this gift knows no bounds. It's so comforting to know a mother's love can over-come the boundaries of death and time. I never expected that this pregnancy would help me feel closer to my own mother or bring me comfort while still mourning her recent passing. However, I am so grateful that it has!

If degrees were given in the study of Adversity, my mother would have earned a few doctorates in her lifetime. She began to experience hardship and disappointment at very young age.



My mother was diagnosed with polio at the age of 6 years. She stared death in the face as a child, as she watched other children die around her. Children were stacked side by side in large hospital wards set up to deal with the devastating polio epidemic during the late '40's and 50's. She turned to words for comfort and strength to get through those hard times in her youth. as well as in her adulthood.



As an adult, my mother experienced the heartache of divorce and the loneliness of single parenting. Her health began to fail her again later in life after the elusive post-polio disease began to slowly over take her life. After suffering with the effects of post-polio for nearly 26 years, the disease she'd known for most of her 73 years, finally ended her life. She lived most of her life knowing that she was living on borrowed time and every day was a miracle to her.

                 
I pondered  my mother's earthly struggles, while I read her writing, penned in her own hand on a worn piece of stationary that I had found tucked away with other papers that were important to her. All of this, made these words even more meaningful to me.




My single most useful bit of humanity is this:
Expect trouble as an inevitable part of your life and when it comes, hold her head high, look it squarely in the eye and say, “I will be bigger than you. You cannot defeat me!” Then repeat to yourself the most comforting of all words, “This too shall pass!”  -Ann Landers

Love you forever mama! Thank you for teaching me through your example!

A Little Parable for Mothers by Temple Bailey

The Young Mother set her foot on the path of life. “Is the way long?” she asked.

And her Guide said: “Yes. And the way is hard. And you will be old before you reach the end of it. But the end will be better than the beginning.”

But the Young Mother was happy, and she would not believe that anything could be better than these years. So she played with her children and gathered flowers for them along the way, and bathed with them in the clear streams; and the sun shone on them, and life was good, and the young Mother cried, “Nothing will ever be lovelier than this.”

Then came night, and storm, and the path was dark, and the children shook with fear and cold, and the Mother drew them close and covered them with her mantle, and the children said, “Oh, Mother, we are not afraid, for you are near, and no harm can come,” and the Mother said, “This is better than the brightness of the day, for I have taught my children courage.”

And the morning came and there was a hill ahead, and the children climbed and grew weary, but all times she said to the children, “A little patience, and we are there.” So the children climbed and grew weary, and the Mother was weary, but all times she said to the children, “A little patience, and we are there.” So the children climbed, and when they reached the top, they said, “We could not have done it without you, Mother.” And the Mother, when she lay down that night, looked up at the stars and said: “This is a better day than the last, for my children have learned fortitude in the face of hardness. Yesterday I gave them courage. Today I have given them strength.”

We are all connected. I know that now more than ever.

Just a few months ago, I came across the story of a beautiful young girl named Megan, who had been changed forever because of the effects of domestic violence. The NCADV posted her story after it hit the Florida news media. Megan's story was so tragic and raw that it brought me to tears. She was only 20 years old and lost her father and both of her young baby girls to the rage of an abusive partner. Her father was with Megan and trying to help her escape the situation, when the perpetrator arrived at the home to stop her from leaving. In a rage, he shot them all before taking his own life. Megan survived despite sustaining seven bullet wounds, including one to the face.

This story took my breath away and I felt anger! Then I felt extreme sadness when I realized the pain she must be experiencing after witnessing and surviving such trauma and my tears began to flow. I shared this news story on Facebook and shared my feelings that night with my husband. I couldn't stop thinking about her. I prayed for her that night and whenever my thoughts turned to her, I said a prayer in my heart. Each time I recounted the story to another, I would begin to cry. I still cry.
Then December came and I was hit with my own personal and unexpected tragedy. My father was in a car accident and had sustained multiple traumatic injuries. So, I spent most of December with my sisters gathered around my father's hospital bed. We spent weeks together in the hospital’s trauma unit not knowing if he would survive. Megan's story was no longer in the forefront of my mind. However, it was not forgotten!

My father had a miraculous recovery and then the holidays came and went along with the month of January. That is about the time I found myself in a jet, on a tarmac, and with my husband headed to Florida for a last-minute get-a-way! I was looking forward to lying in the sun and reading a few good books and just "checking-out" for a bit. I didn’t know that soon the last three months of my life would make a complete circle in my heart and on the map.

Shortly, after arriving my husband called his cousin. Since marrying my husband three years ago, I had not had the opportunity to meet Brian, Christine, and their children. So, we arranged to spend Sunday afternoon together. They invited us to come to their home for dinner. Our time together was wonderful and I felt like I had known them forever, especially Christine! We had one of those soul-sister moments, where you find yourself knee-to-knee and sharing your hearts within hours of meeting, as if you've always known each other. Christine shared with me details of losing her beautiful young daughter to cancer and how hard it can be to say good-bye to one so young and so soon, especially for a mother.





We discussed healing and forgiveness and I shared with her how writing has helped me to heal. We realized we share a love of family history. Then I shared with her a little of my past, specifically with domestic violence. Christine then began to share with me a story of a young girl that attended her church, someone she cared for deeply and was trying to help. Her words soon began to sound familiar and she was not halfway through her story before I interrupted, "I know this story. Are you talking about Megan?" She surprisingly responded, "Yes! How do you know?" I then related to her my connection to her story and how it affected me. We were both amazed and did not believe that this connection was simply a coincidence.

Within moments Christine was on the phone with Megan's mother and arranging for us to visit her that night. Most of those moments are a blur. I just remember praying in my heart that God would help me to know what to say to Megan. I remember thinking how could I possibly help her? Little did I know how meeting Megan would be helping me to know in greater detail God's hand in my life and the lives of his children; His great love for all of His children no matter where they may live or what they are experiencing; How He connects His children together in order to strengthen them.

Each human journey is unique, but God did not intend for us to travel alone. I realize this truth more fully now, after I sat next to Megan that night and held her hand and cried with her. She recounted what happened to her on that tragic day and expressed the love she had for her dear father and best friend. She spoke of their final moments together and the precious words of love they exchanged after she crawled to be by his side. We marveled at the miracle of her still living and the importance of her life. She expressed her desire to tell her story in the hope that it may help other young women who could find themselves in similar circumstances. She proudly showed me pictures of her baby girls. We smiled at their beauty and then cried some more. She described their unique personalities in that way that only a mother of twins would know and understand. I felt humbled and grateful that she would share such precious things with me, but most of all I felt love. I felt God's love for her so strongly and told her so. We cried and said our good-byes.

I am not sure I will ever see Megan again, but I hope that I will. She touched my heart that night in ways that are hard to describe. I am so grateful that Christine had a hand in connecting us as well as sharing part of her heart with me. When I think of my visits with Christine and Megan, I know that I don't need to be next to either one of them to feel connected to them as women, daughters, mothers, and children of God. Despite the fact that ultimately we need to find the strength within ourselves to journey-on and heal, we don't ever need to ever feel alone in doing so!