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myABBAsheart's Blog

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Let the little children come to me....


myABBAsheart

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I always as a child knew that there was something great in this world. God was not talked about in our house. I asked once and got chuckled at, then I was told to go play.

The woman next door from our little home, had seven children. She was Catholic. As crazy as her house was, there was always something there I wanted to be with. We were best friends with each other and our moms were friends. We had parties, and holidays, and life would of been boring without them. If we spent the night, we were only allowed to do it on Saturday night and we had to go to Mass with them. I went most times. The times I declined I felt like I missed out on something that made me full. One Sunday, I received the Eucharist when they told me not too. I kept watching everyone go up and receive. I did not do the blessing (hands across the chest). I wanted to know what this was. All I knew that if this is God, as they say it is, why can't I get it too. I want it, I went for it. I stuck my tongue out, I drank the wine. I felt happy once I did. My friend yelled at me and got so mad. I did not understand what her problem was. The problem was, I did not know or understand. I did not believe this was the body of Christ. I just knew it was good, nothing else. All I knew was this was love, as special as it was, I was spiteful in not allowing them to tell me not to. I just so wanted to when all they talked about was this love. I needed that too!

My mom struggled. She had a rough life with her father. He was greedy and selfish. She did not know anything about God. She kind of was feeling something, but that is really were her faith was. My Grandfather, had money and he was in control of it. He never helped his family when it came down to it. Imagine Ebenezer Scrooge, that story always reminds me of him. My mother never asked for a handout from anyone. She asked my Grandfather one time, just so we could have heat in the winter. We lived in the north. It got cold. I remember us being in dire straits. She never whined about her issues though. She dealt. She was strong that way. I saw her differently. I felt her heart. She was very depressed at times. She would sit and wash dishes and stare out the window. One time, I went to her. I felt her pain. I knew she was hurting. I knew she wanted to find someone to love her. I knew she needed more. I went to hug her and she snapped at me. I was not upset she did, I just disturbed her in her thoughts. I told her that I know she needed a hug. It was all I could do. They say....that when a child gives you something, even if it is a rock, take it. It is the only way they have to show you how much they love you. My mom made us feel safe and loved!

My favorite place at our home to be was under a group of trees on front lawn. I would lie on my back and loved to look up at a certain time of day and see the sun gleam through the trees. It was magical. It was usually about 4pm when I did this. That was the time I was home and done with school. I would send up my thoughts and my heart. It made me feel good, so I kept doing it every day. It felt safe.

I tried to open up in front of grownups and teachers. The more I did, the more I felt silly doing so. I have a hard time verbalizing my words. Plus, no one wanted to hear what I had to say. How could they? It was an adult world and I was a child. I knew they had so much stress. I knew what was stressing them. Living where we all lived was hard at times. We were poor. We had not much in clothes, no car, nothing new. We had a roof over our head and we felt safe. Times were hard. It was stifling at times. Being outside was refreshing. Stress could be felt all around. I went under my tree.

I would talk as if I had a friend there. Not with words, but with my heart. My heart would swell at times and I felt happy under my tree. There were times I got distracted and played with my friends so I was not always there. However, it seem to be a place I went to when I was hurting and did not know what to do with it. The tree was always there. It was steady and strong. When I left that tree, I would always tell it that I would back the next day at the same time. We agreed that 4pm was a good time.

When my dad would come around, he was always screaming at my mother. One time it was so bad I froze. I was paralyzed in fear. I could hear my heart beating so fast. All I thought, was how could she let me go with him? His rage was like that of a bear. I shut down that day. When we went to his house, all we did is watch television. I am not sure we ate much. We were afraid to move. To make matters worse, his girlfriends daughter was a bully and a brat. She would pinch me so hard, I would just be miserable. My dad would yell at us further. We felt it directed towards us. His girlfriends daughter would just laugh and we would just freeze. Just added fuel to the fire at times. My oldest brother took things on his shoulders more. I would ask him if I could go to the bathroom, because he was older. I just assumed he knew more, he knew if it was okay. I felt like a stranger every time I was there. His girlfriends family made us feel second class on top things. The house was like a museum, we were not allowed to even sit or touch anything. We were allowed to watch television. There were times in my life that my brother took the role as a father. He protected me, I always knew that. I don't think my twin brother was effected. He was in is own way, but ask him and he handles things better. I know how I felt. I just did not want to be there at my dads. I wanted to go home. I want the safety of my tree.

One day, as I sat under the tree, I fell asleep. It was a long hot day, and it was just about my birthday. I was going to be eight years old. I was so relaxed. I remember my eyes closed. I was feeling my heart swell again. I was feeling as though something understood me. Something really loved me. I felt someone by my side, comforting, and loving. I felt like with all the words I can't speak, he knew my thoughts, my feelings, everything about me. He knew what was going on. He asked me what it was I wanted. He knew what I wanted. I told him I wanted a dad. He told me he was my father. He told me that was what I was feeling. I sat and pondered this and responded, "I know this. No offense, I just have to have a father here. I just need to." I could not explain why, except what my heart felt and my mind knew and all that ran through it at that moment. I was hurt and felt abandoned. Yet, in saying this, I was worried I had offended Him. I did not understand how exactly the whole mother-father team worked. I just wanted a father. I saw how my friends were with their dad. How their dads were kind and loving to me as well. I saw how fun they were and did things with there own dad and include me in it. I just could not understand why it was different with us. I had a strong need and sense to be a family. I saw it all around me, and we did not have it complete. I wanted to be complete. Yes, he had to be good to my mother too.

A few months later on Thanksgiving, we went to our neighbors house next door. There was a man there in a National Guard uniform. He was on leave for the holiday. I thought his boots were really cool. He sat at the end of the table and kept looking at my mom. My mom would glance his way. This was the brother of my neighbor and uncle to her children. As the kids played, all the grownups sat around the table with coffee and chit-chat. This man played with his nieces and nephews instead. He played with us too. He was nice. It was not until Christmas we saw him afterwards.

He and my mother began to date. I tested him. In fact, I was asked from HIM, how was it going? I was not sure yet, because he had to pass my test. Most nights he would hang out with us and watch television. He made us comfortable. My Grandmother sure loved him as well. She lived us since I was a baby. She helped when she could. I was closer to her then my mother, who seemed to always be in a state of constant worry. One night, I asked him to tuck me in. He just went to it and tucked me in. I kept him there for over an hour just talking about what was in my heart, school, what I did that day. He was like a breath of fresh air to me. He then read me a book. He was patient, loving, and kind. He did not at once try to make a break for it. He just stayed and loved me as a father deeply loves a child. He passed my test. I told him so that night. He never knew what I meant by that. He tucked me in just about every night afterwards.

By June, my mother and him married. He wanted us to call him Dad. He never had children. My mother never could fully grasp why he chose her and three children. We asked him many times, he just states that wanted a family. He just fell in love with who we were. Quickly, I fell in love with him. It was not the same as having a real father...sure was darn close! He was careful not to break our hearts. He proved himself to us.

Regardless, we were so excited, plus my neighbors and best friends, became family. My best friend was my cousin. I had an Aunt and an Uncle. I had six other cousins. We never forget this. Everything in fact fell into place. A couple of years later, we moved to the South. It was a better opportunity and a chance to take. We were drowning where we were. He had a better job offer, and off we went. My stepfather, always encouraged my biological father to have a relationship with us. My stepfather has love for all human kind, my dad hated him for everything. They were both once Catholic. My stepfather came back into the church after we moved, my biological father sadly dismissed it to the day he died. Although, he had a crucifix in his car. He was odd that way, unclear at times and confusing. We never knew things like this about him. He was simple. Everyone said he was a great guy, he was there when they needed him and made them feel so welcoming. I wish it were different with us. We know he loved us, he told us so and when we did visit him, his hugs said it all. It is just that it never had to be this way. That is what I have had a hard time with on many levels.

I knew where this gift of my stepfather came from. I did not fully comprehend it as an adult would. As a child, they live in the moment. I ran to my tree shortly afterwards. I apologized for not coming sooner. I was busy with all the excitement. I thanked Him. I knew my stepfather is a gift from above. I tell him so, he gets choked up. He will never fully know!

I never really went back to my tree after Papa married my mother. I got caught up in being happy and normal. I felt normal and complete finally. My dad hurt me again, it stirred up more hurt from before. I wish he never bothered, I am trying to be happy here. My tree called for me to come to him. I just told him, why bother, it will never change. My dad will never change. When going back to bury my father, to be with the Father, I visited my old house. The tree was gone.

I

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