The Absence of Grey

A few years ago I came home to find a five year old girl and a caseworker sitting on my porch. The caseworker asked if I could keep her. She was sitting there with her curls flying all over and the bluest eyes I have ever seen. Her clothes were too big... her shoes too small.   None were weather appropriate. She walked right up to me and asked if I was her mom. I told her that she could call me whatever she wanted. She said "I want to call you Mom!" Over the next few weeks, the most horrible stories poured out of her little mouth. I grieved for all she had endured. I reported each allegation to Department of Children's Services, who only responded two years later after I contacted a State Representatives office myself. Even then, it was just to tell me that I did not understand the system. I tried so hard to hold her close... hoping to somehow make the monsters inside go away. In my ignorance, I thought that my loving her would be enough.  It was not long before the

News Report I was asked recently to talk to WJHL by the Children's Advocacy Center . For those who know me well, you know I have used their amazing resource for many of the children who come into my home. I fully hold them responsible for my family being so together! Anyway, Here is the story. At first I was a bit embarrassed, I guess the old victim attitude surfaced. You know the "its my fault" sort of thing. Then I got to thinking about it more. I never abused a child, I never hurt or starved or neglected a child, why should I be the one to feel bad? So here it is. . . A little of my life, the motivation for what I do. . . the reason I try to encourage each of you to reach out to children. . . April is Child Abuse Awareness Month.and there are some disturbing statistics right here in our region. Last year in Tennessee, 15 hundred children died as a result of abuse and neglect. There were nine deaths in Northeast Tennessee, five of those in Sullivan County alon

On October 3, 1990 a man held his wife at gunpoint. It was not the first time she had stood frozen waiting on the drunken glaze to clear from his eyes, but four shots later it would be the last. The man was my father, the wife, my stepmother Lynn. I lost them both that morning, but as the years have passed I have been overwhelmed with the losses that followed their death. Lost were my stepmother’s hugs and kisses, her macaroni and tomato dinners, the hours spent playing beauty shop with her, the relationships of siblings separated, having my parents at my high school graduation and other monumental events, my innocence, the ability to live unafraid, trusting, and in peace, the ability to feel normal, the ability to have him see that I have chosen a man who would never hurt me as he did, the chance to show him my new baby girls, and most of all, the ability to let him know that he was forgiven for all the bruising of my body and soul. The list goes on for days but these are the on

Um if you wouldn't mind you're making too much noise. So... your head is underwater just breathe easy, it's a choice Um could you please focus Try not to kick so hard? Damn, We're trying to save you. Don't you see you've came this far? We've been standing here for hours putting our world on hold, you've hardly said a thing except "help the water's cold" Help yourself! You know you can Stop the tears from flowing and dry your little face Yes, We see that you are drowing We just wish you'd do it with more grace.

I've lost my song and can't find it. There's none who can sing it to me the lyrics blanketed by too much pain, too much sadness, to much forever trying to be more than how I am. No one brave enough to dig through the shattered pieces and broken dreams They might get cut. I'm already bleeding. My fault of course, if only I could let go, but how to you let go when your body so vividly remembers every unkind touch? I don't know the answer to that. I can play, pretend, smile while dying inside, die while no one notices, but my body screams out in protest. Sleep evades me. Food will not go or stay down. Hands shaking, Head pounding, Waking up at night screaming about things I don't remember. Crying in the daytime about the things I do. And then my tears begin to fall, for all that I will never be, for lyrics that will never be found, tears cried only by me. . .

To his love.... It's me, the hot young miss that's got your mans attention Just writing to apologize So sorry dear that you have to pay for my sins. That your love has strayed to me So sorry dear that every time I kiss him, he wonders who it is, you are kissing Every time I lay down with him, you get accused of doing the same Everytime I call his name, He wonders what name escapes your mouth Over and over again, you will pay for my time with him without even knowing I exist. His paranoia will drive him crazy when he's with you realizing even the sweet ones are capapble of reaching out Are you reaching out? Probably not, but it doesn't matter. either way you lose this game you don't even know you are playing, I get the attention I want, You get to pay for my sins

I like the flavor of meat, but not meat. I will often cook meat, boil it or whatever with the veggies I want, then take it out and feed it to my dogs. When I am sad, I disappear. I appreciate when someone notices I did. But if you don't, I will be back, in my own time, and will never hold it against you. I love and am very passionate about a great many things. I wish at times I wasn't. I make the best pancakes in the whole world. I prefer texting to talking because if I am texting you, don't have to hear me say, stop touching your sister, be quiet, don't lick the dog, etc... My babies are my world. I am the most kind and gracious person I know, UNTIL, it comes to my children. Then I forget Jesus and all my manners. Hermit crabs fascinate me beyond measure. I sometimes spell words wrong, or create words to combat my ridiculous spelling hangup. If I could hide in the shadows all of my days, I would be quite happy. If you need someone in your co

grate·ful [greyt-fuhl] adjective 1. warmly or deeply appreciative of kindness or benefits received; thankful For far too many years of my life, perhaps all of them, I was definitly a glass half empty kind of girl. I found, noticed, and focused on things that were stressful, ugly, or harmful to me. From relationships to my very thoughts, I was in every way, simply ugly. Depressed. Angry. Bitter. Yep, me in a nutshell! I was so busy seeing, worrying about, crying over, being pissed off about everything that was wrong, that moment after moment the beautiful, precious, fun, wonderful things were missed. It was about two years ago when I finally came to a place where I was simply exhausted of living that way. I sat in my car and asked God to please give me a new heart, to please help me get my mind right, to please help me be the woman He wants me to be. It was by no means easy. There are still days when my fears, sadness, or anger try to come back in. However, they find a &q

I think sometimes, especially because some of my most personal and painful blogs are restricted, people see my grateful lists and think that I am either completely insane, or lying. I need to clarify something. Between the lines of every list, there are moments of deep pain and hurt and frustration. My world has been a very difficult place to live in for the past few years. There are big monsters and even bigger scars they left behind. On days like today, when I am frustrated, heartbroken, sad, overwhelmed, the very last thing I wanted to do was make a grateful list. It is also precisely the reason why I did it first. Ladies and Gentlefish, it is easy to be grateful when life is smooth, it is easy to be joyful when you have a reason to laugh, it is easy to be brave when you are able to protect yourself...but what happens when all of those things are ripped away? Who are you then? I can tell you that I am one very tired, very hurt, very heartbroken, very frustrated woman, who chooses to

His name is Stephen He is kind, intelligent, and funny. Curious and brave, He draws her out of her hiding place. His name is Stephen, and it seems he has found keys to doors and places buried so deeply within her, she had forgotten they even existed. His name is Stephen and he makes her smile, and laugh, and her eyes dance. His name is Stephen and he makes yesterday irrelevant, today lovely, and tomorrow hopeful. Her name is Jessica and she has one foot stuck in the mire of society, the failure of ambitions, the tears of dreams lost. But no worries my sweet friend, because her other foot is holding fast in. . . Hope... Truth... Tenacity... and Love... and all that means His name is Stephen, and her name is Jessica, and together they will conquor the atmosphere. They have time.

July 4, 2007, I sat on a mountain top in Stone Mountain Georgia, feeling a million miles beneath it. It was exactly a month from the day which would forever shape my future. It was a day a day when a false king revealed himself as tyrant, and love became a dream never dreamed about. I remember standing there and watching the fireworks, hearing the star spangled banner, and tears rolling down my face. Each tear stinging the places where gravel still held tight to my skin. I was standing in the middle of thousands of people and feeling more trapped and alone than ever in my life. I remember realizing that day that I was no longer free, but a slave to someone who meant so much but hurt so big. I remember wishing that at that moment, I could be anywhere but there. Five years later, after stories most of you will never hear, much less believe, I found myself standing on a mountain top. I found myself free. I was OVERWHELMED. My heart could not fathomtfat freedom it felt. Instead of

Starvation: a state of extreme hunger resulting from lack of essential nutrients over a prolonged period. Extreme hunger? For far more than food, but for my very existence, for peace, for freedom from swinging arms for love, for being somebody's someone. Lack of essential nutrients? You betcha. Prolonged period? Officially, I would say, at least since June 4, 2007, though as I am growing and learning, as I am realizing what good, and kind, and loving, truly are.. I think I have most certainly always been starving. And this means what? When someone has been starving, when the very basics of human existence have been denied them, it is simply logical that when given those things, they would grab hold of them as if they may disappear at any moment. It is a given that they may stuff their face a little. They may not display good and proper etiquette. But really, how could they? The very thing so many of you take for granted was denied them. It was denied the

You know, I have a house full of impossible. Babies who couldn't be born. Children who could never live in a home. Creatures who would never make it. Yet, They were born. They have a mama who adores them. They survived. It isn't that I don't see the impossiblity of situations, or that I don't understand the very long road ahead of me. It's that I know that the very same God who gave me my babies, the one who breathed life into me, the one who healed my broken heart far before any man came along, the one who gave me the patience and wisdom to be tenacious when other's gave up, that God, He says you're a liar.

People commonly say that you find out who your friends are when things get rough, and while that's true, I think you find out who your friends are just as much when things go well in your life. When you have struggled and fought, when you are tired but have reached your destination, your friends will be happy for you. Your friends will celebrate with you. They will thank God for what He is doing in your life. They will praise Him for bringing you out of the darkness. People who are not your friends will try to drag you back down with them. With words so covertly spoken as to make Mark Anthony jealous, they will cut, or try to, your joy. These are people who need a crisis, they need something to be wrong with you so they feel right. Get away from these people. Far away. You do not need them.