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1:18 PM
It was my turn to share a little devotional last night at our church's art program. The volunteers gather before the children arrive to pray and each week someone takes a few moments to share something with the rest of the group. I had planned to say a few things about our time in Franklinton and about what God had been showing me lately about the children He places in our lives. I made it about 10 seconds before unexpected emotion hit and I was barely able to speak.
I think I have post traumatic stress disorder.
Okay, not really...but I'm dealing with some stuff right now. Basically, I never dealt with any of my feelings during our three years in Franklinton. I survived, just like the rest of our neighbors, but obviously in a completely different way. I denied feeling scared, fearful, angry, and sad. Those feelings didn't seem acceptable. I had chosen to live there with my children. I felt like I needed to accept the consequences of this choice willingly and joyfully. So, when I arrived home alone with three children and pregnant late at night and was greeted by my neighbor who said, "There's a man with a big ass gun in your back yard," I simply thanked them for the info and went inside. When the large and mentally unstable homeless man pushed his way into my home and stayed for three hours while Eric was working at the hospital late at night, I gave him coffee and dinner and forced my children to lie and say daddy was upstairs. Survival. All the screaming and fighting on porches...dragging my kids inside on summer nights because the scene on the porches around us had gotten so obscene that Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy seemed like a better option even if the weather was beautiful. And so many of these nights, about 5 a week, I was alone. Eric worked 3-11pm. Long nights...movie nights and game nights... me and the three boys stuck in that little tv room upstairs because someone had figured out Eric's work schedule and would bang on the front door for hours on the nights he worked late.
These thoughts suddenly flooded my mind last night when I started sharing with the other volunteers. I wasn't ready for that. When I had thought through my words at home they came out calmly. The emotion was a surprise, but it's still here today. Maybe it was spurred on by my older boys last week who came to me at different times scared. Riley...crying at 10pm remembering when he had been choked by a neighbor because I had turned my back on the situation for about 30 seconds. Trey...scared of the quiet, scared of who is outside that we can't see while we sleeping and scared of house fires. How many house fires did he see? I've lost count. I reassure them now that they are safe. I tried to stay so calm for them in Franklinton to help them feel safe. I guess they were old enough by the time we left Franklinton to come to their own conclusions. I don't know. Just a lot of thoughts and processing this morning.
But, it is a good day. The sun is shining beautifully through the trees today in our woods. I'm thankful. Thankful for this land and our home, thankful for my kids and husband. I'm thankful for His protection during our time in Columbus and for all the experiences that have formed us into the family we are today.
I think I have post traumatic stress disorder.
Okay, not really...but I'm dealing with some stuff right now. Basically, I never dealt with any of my feelings during our three years in Franklinton. I survived, just like the rest of our neighbors, but obviously in a completely different way. I denied feeling scared, fearful, angry, and sad. Those feelings didn't seem acceptable. I had chosen to live there with my children. I felt like I needed to accept the consequences of this choice willingly and joyfully. So, when I arrived home alone with three children and pregnant late at night and was greeted by my neighbor who said, "There's a man with a big ass gun in your back yard," I simply thanked them for the info and went inside. When the large and mentally unstable homeless man pushed his way into my home and stayed for three hours while Eric was working at the hospital late at night, I gave him coffee and dinner and forced my children to lie and say daddy was upstairs. Survival. All the screaming and fighting on porches...dragging my kids inside on summer nights because the scene on the porches around us had gotten so obscene that Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy seemed like a better option even if the weather was beautiful. And so many of these nights, about 5 a week, I was alone. Eric worked 3-11pm. Long nights...movie nights and game nights... me and the three boys stuck in that little tv room upstairs because someone had figured out Eric's work schedule and would bang on the front door for hours on the nights he worked late.
These thoughts suddenly flooded my mind last night when I started sharing with the other volunteers. I wasn't ready for that. When I had thought through my words at home they came out calmly. The emotion was a surprise, but it's still here today. Maybe it was spurred on by my older boys last week who came to me at different times scared. Riley...crying at 10pm remembering when he had been choked by a neighbor because I had turned my back on the situation for about 30 seconds. Trey...scared of the quiet, scared of who is outside that we can't see while we sleeping and scared of house fires. How many house fires did he see? I've lost count. I reassure them now that they are safe. I tried to stay so calm for them in Franklinton to help them feel safe. I guess they were old enough by the time we left Franklinton to come to their own conclusions. I don't know. Just a lot of thoughts and processing this morning.
But, it is a good day. The sun is shining beautifully through the trees today in our woods. I'm thankful. Thankful for this land and our home, thankful for my kids and husband. I'm thankful for His protection during our time in Columbus and for all the experiences that have formed us into the family we are today.
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catching up on your blogs. remembering that I gave you and your brother back to God the day you were born. realizing only as life happened what that actually meant. late night phone calls from Pup weren't any worse than the phone calls from you when someone was pounding on your door. now, you begin the journey of keeping your little ones in God's hands. don't ever try it without Him.
Debby said...
9:47 AM