June 11, 2022
Those days are in the past, and I am blessed to no longer find myself in situations where I must hold onto the darkness as a relief from the pain of the day. Those days were days that stretched out in front of me like an incomplete manuscript just waiting for the torturous details of the author's devious mind to unfold.
Anyone who knew the younger me knows my then propensity for staying up all night and sleeping as late as possible during the day. The difference between the younger me and the older me lies in the fact that my younger days held an edge of fear and dread. Those days are over.
The peacefulness of early morning now propels me to leave the comfort of my bed.
It wasn’t easy to remove myself from those circumstances or from the mindset that once held me captive. If I am entirely honest, I must admit that escaping from the mental trauma and the self-destructive habits I formed in those days continues to be a life-long process and is perhaps the only shadow on my otherwise gloriously sunny, present-day life.
Realize that I was once a child who wondered if I would live to see thirty. When your mother dies young, you wonder about those things. If I burst forth with loud acclamations upon the rising of the sun, please grant me a little grace.
I once questioned if I would ever be able to trust in things that once brought me joy. Being unable to keep one's son safe from violence and death makes one uncertain whether they can hope to be joyful once again. Faith in tiny eggs tucked beneath a robin’s protective wings, thus becomes a celebration to be shared.
Trying to put down roots and having one's former partner destroy those dreams time and time again means beautiful images captured on camera of the land where I now dwell is, in fact, an effort to hang on to something that means the world to me, just in case I were to lose it all once again.
No longer do I feel the hunger pains of doing without so that my children would have enough to eat. Thus, the relentless recollections on social media of what we are having for supper are written in awe and disbelief that our table, cellar, and freezers overflow with so much abundance.
No longer do I have to strap on a weapon and work as an armed security guard to support my children as a single parent. If it seems like I am bragging about my current farming and homesteading life, perhaps it won't seem so annoying if you know that it is an act of gratitude. I now enjoy better circumstances.
When I speak of peace, it is because I have known turmoil in many forms, and my personal experience with hate has taught me to promote love at all costs.
The joy that comes in the morning, my eagerness to begin a new day, and my insistence on sharing things of beauty are my efforts to share hope with others, to give to all who will accept a reason to believe and to remind myself that despite the pain, life continues to be worth living.
Do I recognize the pain behind the joy in what others choose to share? All judgment and jealousy fade away when we understand that we celebrate the little things, not only in our own lives but also in the lives of others, so that we can collectively make it through the tough spots with a measure of hope.