yss
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Oh, this will take many letters to tell you what it means to me.
But I will begin here.
It is possible that this may be my Father God's mercy to me.
It's possible that He sent you to walk with me through this part of my healing.
You must be a very brave spirit; and He must have such high regard for you.
I have killed all the others.
They came to me, in much the same way, but I saw into their heart.
We talked, friendly, sort of...for a while.
But when they put their finger upon my terrors; I killed them. I'm never sure how.
It just sort of, "happens."
I was privileged to carry in my body, five children, to grace this world. Three sons and two daughters.
Two sons live in my Father God’s heart.
David grew to manhood, but he suffered terribly. He was brilliant and
understood concepts and universe secrets unimaginable to the duller souls with whom he was forced to live.
You see, he was stolen from me as a small child. He died much too young of broken heart and broken dreams.
His brother, John, was also stolen from me, and to this day, he is estranged from me...and my heart bleeds deeply.
You cannnot know how deep.
Another son, who also lives in that heavenly heart, was given to me for far too few moments of time.
Years after his death I named him Christian, in my heart, and never told anyone.
How do you tell someone a thing like that?
I bore him alone, in the bathroom.
He never opened his eyes to see me.
He never heard my voice outside of the protection of my womb, his home here on this earth,
where I rocked him daily in my belly, but never in my arms.
Perhaps, he would have had red highlights in his hair.
Perhaps, but not likely, his eyes would have been blue.
Perhaps, as I, he would have loved to read.
Perhaps, the sound of my voice gave him some comfort...
as his little life seeped away... into my Father's arms... from my own womb.
So greatly do I love my children. I strove always to be the mother I never had, but so desperately needed and wanted.
I loved on those babies. Such love...we danced; we laughed; we adventured;
We sailed far seas and discovered uncharted lands, from a rocking chair made only for a mom and her babes.
Memories of my mother abandoning me to complete strangers drew me far too short to ever leave my own babes with anyone if they did not feel safe.
When my mother left me, I didn't know if she would come back.
I didn't know why she left me.
Night after night, I watched the headlights of cars slide across the wall and ceiling,
and wondered with every flash of light, is that her?
Has she come back yet?
Once or twice I asked the nuns "is my mom gonna come back to get me (ever)?"
I don't remember what answer was given to me.
I just remember how it felt: not being loved enough by your mom to be kept.
Perhaps if I had been better somehow. More good, more pretty, more smart, more...
My babes were my joy and today are still my jewels.
They'll never know that I would cease to exist if they were no more.
If you lie down on the cold bathroom tile floor, and you let the life blood ooze out of you, slowly;
you feel sleepy, and so tired. Much too tired to move.
Hold your little, teeny, tiny babe close to your heart.
Tight, but not too tight, keep him warm...
perhaps he will open his tiny eyes... once... just once. So he can see me...
the one who rocked him, and sang to him, and read stories to him, and talked to him, and patted him
-- through the skin and blood blanket...
don't go away my babe, my boy...
But after a few thousand years, you can stand in a prayer and praise meeting,
lift your arms, lift holy hands up to the King of Kings...
and say to Him...
‘I will not leave this place til You give me my sight, my father-daughter sight.
You promised. You promised me Father-daughter sight. I need Father-daughter sight, or I perish.
And as you stand in your Father's lap, as only daughters are permitted, indulged.
And you see there is an altar, for offering.
You climb down from the protected, warm embrace of the King of Kings
to put your offerings upon the altar.
And from your mouth the necessary falls...
from your heart the knife falls...
For in loving your children so dearly, you cannot exist if they are not...
and the memory of the cold bathroom tile floor washes through your heart, your soul,
the one who is not...
and then the vividness of memory is not... and then there is no memory... gone... almost.
And as you stand lifting your burdens to the altar, you are speaking the words,
"I place upon your altar....." and from your own mouth,
the gush of blood and water washes through your brain,
"I place upon your altar.....my baby."
And suddenly the cold bathroom tile floor is on your face and breaking from your heart.
Fey! Words of poison! Whence came such vile words and what meaning have they in my mouth...now,
this day!?!
In the ripped and gaping hole in the center of your chest, your heart-womb holds a babe so small,
sleeping a forever-sleep.
And the pain is so over-arching, surely this time, this time you will die.
But there is a mercy. A mercy of unspeakable kindness. A mercy of extraordinary gentleness.
A munificent compassion...
The Other, The Eternal is weeping with you.
There are other arms bracing yours as you cradle your babe from the heart-womb to the altar/alter...
and the gaping hole, is covered by a bleeding and pierced hand...
a forever fresh wound...
...his eyes are impossible blue.
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sherpa
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Angel, I have found a stone for your ebenezer.
On it, there is the name -- Christian.
The Lord has spared me this sorrow to this point in time, knowing,
as I know, that it would destroy me.
About 16 months ago, my youngest daughter,
made a serious attempt at taking her own life.
I have watched an east-indian brother lose a 12 year old daughter,
the closest thing to an angelic being I have ever seen.
His wife had given aspirin to comfort her child,
not knowing that the fever came from a chicken pox infection,
and she slipped away, the victim of Rhey's Syndrome.
I remember the tears, and the self-doubt, and the agony,
as my daughter was in the hospital with 50000 milligrams of Tylenol in her system,
bent on destroying her liver, not knowing whether she would wake again.
Then, visiting her every evening in the psych ward of a local hospital,
wondering whether life with her would ever be the same.
It is a question that is impossible to answer, even today.
We know, because Thomas saw them, that there are scars that have been carried to heaven.
Like the pile of ebenezer stones, they are there for the purpose of remembering.
I cannot doubt that losing Christian has left a scar deeper than I could possibly ever know.
But it must become just that, a scar.
Jacob limped away with his blessing. But he left with his life, the blessing he sought,
and the ability to walk on.
And so the first stone bears Christian's name, and we will remember,
but we will also let the wound heal,
bear the scar, and leave him there.
There is a woman in heaven. Her name is Susan.
She was summoned to the throne room of heaven to serve in the courts of her King
after only twelve years here with us.
Her beauty of body, soul and spirit was such that
she was needed there more than she needed to remain here.
Next to her stands a man, whose name is Christian.
He also serves among the artisans of his Master. He is a poet.
He does not remember his time here, but he knows his mother,
and often writes of her in the verse he writes for the Lamb of God.
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yss
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Many weeks passed before I could stop weeping because of his words.
Whenever I read this, I still weep.
But what he said about my beautiful, tiny babe, Christian, freed me...
I had always thought of him as an unalive baby in my hands,
never opening his eyes to see me.
Now I think of him as a young man, a poet before my God;
a young man who loves and remembers me.
And his eyes are blue like mine.
One of his brothers, David, lives there with him.
They are both extraordinary men before the Living God,
who gifted them both with keen intellect and understanding.
The man who was David's biological father and
would have called himself Christian's biological father,
the cowardly man who stole David and his brother, John,...
MY sons,
actually observed the spectacle in the bathroom;
observed all the blood, everywhere,
observed me on the cold bathroom tile floor,
that person,
Allen Leslie Williams,
said to me:
"Get dressed and I'll take you to work."
He hadn't bothered to get a job yet. Dead now,
I wonder sometimes, how he faced the Almighty God
who gave five children to ME...
to MY body...
they are MY sons and daughters.
that person,
Allen Leslie Williams,
who observed the spectacle in the bathroom;
saw me on the cold bathroom tile floor,
and had to clean up all the blood from floor and wall
IS NOT WORTHY OF ANY CHILD AND NOT WORTHY OF THE TITLE: FATHER!
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