The Garden

I want to sit in the garden by my Jesus and lay in the sun at his feet. We don’t talk. We just sit. Listening to the sounds of the garden. All of you can wait while I’m with my Daddy. Your problems are no longer mine. Because He’s here. And He loves me. And the voices stop. I can think again. But I don’t want to think, I want to listen. To the birds my Daddy made just for me, to sing my cares away. He made them for you too. You can come to the garden with me. Just don’t talk to me there. It’s not a place for words. It’s a place to lay at His feet and let him hold your heart.

In the garden He doesn’t care what you do, He just wants you to be there. Because everything about you is perfect to Him. You can laugh or cry or scream or sing but my favorite thing to do is just be. In his garden where nobody cares what you are, you’re just His. And no matter what you say, he knows what you mean.

It’s peaceful here in the garden. It’s just the way He wanted it. Just the way He planned it to be for you. Come into Daddy’s garden and lay at His feet.

See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God: and so we are. 1John 3:1

Think

There is a story I’ve started that I will someday publish about three girls. The first girl is named Muse. She is motherly and caring and capable of keeping them together. The second girl is Chrystal. She is strong and stable, mastering discipline and self-control. The final girl is Kida, her name means warrior. She has lost who she is, or if she ever was. She must learn how to live again. They are all very different but not one can exist without the other.

Because each one of them is me. I am the first girl, the one who loves like a mother and cares for everyone she meets. I am the second girl, the one who is a leader and a protector. I am stronger than I look and wiser than my age. Lastly I am the third girl, I have lost myself, everything I used to be is now gone.

I have forgotten how to be me. 

The first girl will have to teach the other girls how to be a family. The second will have to learn how to lead them. The third will have to find a new person to be, because she had her old identity ripped from her. These are all struggles I have to go through; I will be a mother to the broken, a leader to the lost, and a new being in Christ.

But don’t forget that even though I am the mother and a leader I am still trying to find what was stolen from me. My identity was taken from me in the form of an abusive relationship and a broken home. I am a mother to my own mother, do you think I could come away from that unscathed? I cannot clean my home, I cannot brush my teeth, I cannot remember who I am!

My depression comes from brokenness and sadness but it also comes from making myself again from scratch. I have to learn basic tasks again as if they were never taught to me before. I have to force myself to breathe on occasion. 

And at times it feels like you’re all talking at once. All telling me something I have to do, someone I have to be, and some expectation that you pushed upon me and it ends up that I am in a whirlwind of emotions; a hurricane of words all crashing around me and I’m scared and confused and frustrated and suffocated and all I can do is scream because maybe if I’m loud enough the words will stop and I can just-

Think.

Just let me think.

The dishes will get done. My homework will be finished. And I will talk to you eventually. Soon. When I’ve had a chance to think. But for now.

Just let me.

Think.