• Archive for April 2013


    Sunday, April 28, 2013

    I never thought that when I whitewashed thrifted furniture, painted a fresh coat on the walls, hung the shelves and arranged the baskets, stacked tidy rows of beautifully printed cotton,
     My first project
     Months after that first hopeful stroke of paint,
     Would be the weight of a baby’s blanket
    Amaris’s tears started then

    And have slipped ripe and full over the beautiful brown of her skin since

    All the tenderness offered could not sooth the fragility of her hurt

    I have wept with my daughter
    With the sun rising hopeful over our days and long into the soul crushing hours of night

    Days slipping way to a whole season of tears

    Experts say the moist is memories

    An infant’s way of expressing the depth and force of pain
    I weep because I can’t go back in time and wrap my infant with security and safety

    I weep so weary

    The tears rattle a soul right through to my brain
    This is adoption
    So much brokenness
    Mine, hers and a God who is molding us
    Forming the bond through the wrestling pains of life
    God leads to wisdom
    Teachers, experts and Doctors
    Who deposits tools and keys and a whole new way of life
    That covers the broken and heals their wounds

    I’m the mother and I see the signs
    The special care it will take going back, journeying the darkness, letting the brokenness be filled with light
    That pendulum of special needs swings wide and vast

    We teeter in the sensory processing spectrum

    Along with almost every other child of trauma and neglect

    I ache for my girl who is worth so much more then was given
    Knowing why the tears

    All her pain gushing out

    Knowing her brain formed around stress and the damage it has caused

    My Mothering heart winces

    It can cripple with this care

     Or it can cradle this wee one

    Draw her nearer

    Embrace the broken

    Wipe another tear and then a thousand more

    I can swaddle her then tuck her under a weighted blanket that calms and soothes her senses

    I can grow and learn

    I can be a purposeful healer

     I can


    And be assured that God has

    Kept track of all my sorrows.
        You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
        You have recorded each one in your book.

    I can offer

    A sacrifice of thanks for your help.
    For you have rescued me from death;
        you have kept my feet from slipping.
    So now I can walk in your presence, O God,
        in your

    Life-Giving Light

    Psalms 56

    Tender Mercies

    Tuesday, April 16, 2013

    There is story being etched in these days of silence, somewhere in the deepest eves of my Soul my Lord is working, there has been darkness, beatific, the word I make a life to, seems like shadows of yesterday,

    I have felt tossed

    I have tumbled

    I have clenched and it has ached.

    There has been no cease hollowing out the mire.

    I toil and I travail, believing, surely beyond the tomorrows spring will come

    Slowly bringing me back the rhythms of beauty,

    My deepest love, the man, I have leaned heavy into, whispered it strong and sure into the late of night

    ‘I wait quietly before God,

    For my victory comes from him.

    He alone is my rock and my salvation,

    My fortress where I will never be shaken

    Let all that I am wait quietly before God,

    For my hope is in him.’

    Psalms 62

    Quietly I have waited and in the quiet I wait,

    To hear hopes soft unfurl

    The essence of beauty breathing tenderly once again

    May your grace, my dear friends, walk patiently with me?

    Listen to the words of my days,

    Hear the story in Beatific