Tag Archives: shame

some things must die

Scan007, October 16, 2003

April 29, 2013, for me, is one of those days that you “remember where you were when…”

They wheeled my husband back into the hospital room, the back of the bed faced me.  I couldn’t see him, but I knew something was wrong.  There was something in the air that changed.  Something felt off.  This was a routine heart catheterization procedure to put a couple stents in.  One day in the hospital, a couple days of rest, and bada bing, bada boom life would be back to normal.

But that’s not what happened.

The nurses flitted about getting things ready in his room.  His bed was still half in the hall and half in the room.  I couldn’t wait another minute for them to push him in, so I went to his side.

“Hey,”  I said, hoping for a smile, some sign we were done and we could move on from here.  But his face was full of dread and something else I couldn’t quite recognize on him.  Fear.  He spoke to me through watery eyes, his words a quiet whisper, “I have to have open heart.”  I shook my head no, hand in his squeezing tight.  The nurses droned on, talking to each other.

“How do you like working in the cath lab?”
“Oh it’s great, I’m learning a ton and it’s neat to see all the procedures and how they are done.”
“That’s great…”

Everything splintered in that moment.

I wanted the nurses to stop talking, to do their job and leave so we could be alone.  The world around us began to fade and spin.  All my thoughts were of ribs being opened and separated.  I couldn’t bear it.  I looked at my husband and wiped the tears from his face.  When he spoke there was terror in his voice.  He too, was afraid.

I had no words.  I couldn’t comfort him, I didn’t know what to do.  What would this mean?  I could see the process unfold that night as we went from denial to acceptance.

On May 2, 2013, he underwent quadruple bypass.

I have been wanting to write this entry for months.  I can say I was too busy, but I wonder if it was too raw.  It still feels fresh, like a wound that hasn’t quite healed.

But I learned there is a time and season for everything.  It’s ok for some things to die…to come to an end.

Death of shame.

Death of self.

Death of pride.

Death of bad habits.

The end of this blog…

This journey has brought me farther than I ever thought possible.  There was a day not too long ago that I said, “When I was post abortive.”  That day I realized I will always feel the pain and loss. But I am done carrying the shame and guilt from my abortion.  Jesus bore that all on the cross for me. Who am I to continue to carry the penalty, rather than choose to accept the free gift he has given us.  Now, I am truly free.

My prayer is that in a way this will live on.  I wanted to take others on my journey and see how it’s possible to heal.  That they are not alone in their struggles with abortion.

So I leave you with this:  Life is beautiful.  When the reality of life’s frailty hit me upside the head, it was a wake up call and I learned a lot about myself.

To live.

To live beautifully.

To live fully.

To not take things for granted.

To live without regrets.

To love more deeply.

My prayer is that you may do the same.

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east to west

When I am drowning in my sorrows and filled with the muck that ones life can bring I am reminded about the forgiveness in which I believe in.  This morning this song came on and I love the words and the meaning.  You can go east forever without going west and west forever without going east.  THAT is how far my sins, shortcomings, regret, pain, guilt, shame, and everything else has been cast from me.

Psalm 103:12  As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.

fractured

GGma 3 - Version 2

Almost four weeks ago I broke my hand.  It has been hard to write to say the least and I wish I could say I am using the time to relax, because that was my intention.  But as always it has been busy.  My plan, I hope, is to use the last week and a half to do just that.

One thing that struck me, and is why I am telling you this, was when I left the urgent care after learning my hand was indeed broken, quite well the doctor remarked, and with the threat of surgery looming over my head, I walked out the doors and lost it.  I broke down.  I was left with overwhelming emptiness, shame, and anger.

A couple days later, I thought about it and realized that was the same feeling I felt when I left the abortion clinic.  In an instant I was brought back to that place.  I saw myself walk out those doors, and down the steps.  In that moment I felt nothing and everything.

I grieved deeply.

As I sit here and type one handed (of which I am getting really good at and thank-you spell check!), I am looking forward to the days of one-handed typing to be behind me.  But like my abortion, lessons that are harder learned will be with me forever and maybe that is a good thing for it was George Santayana who said, “those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

choose to live

IMG_4918_picnik

On our way to Minnesota I saw this billboard…

“Smile!  Your mother was pro life”

I am thankful that my mother was.  I have letters from my father when my mother was pregnant with me and there were discussions on what they should do.  My fathers words were basically no way would abortion be an option.  Being that it was in 1974 (ok, you can calculate if you want :)) it might have seemed like the easy way out.  But they chose life.

I think about all that have chose life, I dare say none have regretted that choice.  But the simple choice I made leaves unending regret.

But please KNOW that through this regret, I am able to find redemption over and over again.  I feel it when I talk with other women in my shoes.  I see it when I can help someone else make an informed decision.

I choose to LIVE each and every day I have left.

the battle within

Anger flies in on a gentle breeze when I least expect it. It doesn’t announce its silent mission. It penetrates the barriers I have put up. What I thought was a fortress, it easily demolishes. The warriors that have sworn to protect have fallen. It darkens my soul and my countenance easily wavers.

There is anger at the loss, anger at those involved, anger at the situation. But most of all there is anger at myself. I envision a character standing above, pointing a bony finger at me. “You chose incorrectly.” And I know I did. The pain and truth of the words cut through me severing my paths of what could have been. I am doomed to a life of imprisonment.

Anger comes and goes. Years of emptiness inside a tomb I created. Regret. Shame. Pain. They are the scars that come from the choice I have to bear. I am told I shouldn’t feel this way. I am told that it was a simple procedure. But my heart knows differently. My heart wants to feel the loss, but my mind contradicts. So the battle ensues.

White light crashes. It pierces the darkness. I feel the warmth. But cannot adjust my eyes to its brilliance. The truth seeps into the crevices of my soul, the empty places that have been broken open. Healing. Hope. Love. The two forces collide and the battle continues. The darkness cannot hide. The light penetrates.

The Great Exchange: Truth for lies. Freedom for the captive. Beauty instead of ashes. Gladness instead of mourning. Restoration instead of devastation.

What could I do? How can I repay? Nothing. Just love, forgive as I have forgiven and loved you.

where hope floats

I have been reminded this weekend on many fronts of the importance of community and our stories.  The word of our testimony.

We. Each. Have. One.

We all have a story to tell, a story that can help someone.

It’s easy to become complacent and think your story couldn’t possibly help another soul and then I find myself in a group of ladies who are all post abortive.  They are unsure of me as I am unsure of them.  Our stories can be ugly and hard.  There are tears, bitterness, regret and plenty more tears.

I don’t want them to look at me and think she must have it all together.  It’s a good disguise, but it can only last as long as I open my mouth and the truth pours out.  I love the part where the girls relax because they know I have been where they are.  I have seen the depths of darkness.  I have felt the pain and shame that comes from abortion.

I think when we break down our walls and are vulnerable with each other our hope floats and it meets others where they are and where they need it.  Our stories intertwine and like ripples in a pond after you throw the first pebble they fan out over and over again.

Maybe just maybe I am a little better now because I also met someone that was vulnerable and told me I have been where you are.  I felt their pain and my pain but I also saw hope.

We all need a little hope.

PS…here are some of the amazing, beautiful stories I read this weekend…

Beth Moore’s Sister

OneThousandSingleDays

purpose

I am reminded once again how such a curse in my life turned into a blessing.

I know it sounds strange, but in some ways I am thankful to be able to relate to other women that have had an abortion.  To be able to say I have been there and you will be ok.  Yes it’s not easy, yes it will always be there.  But…you are not alone.  What you are feeling is normal.  There is healing on the other side.  There is hope.

I have met so many beautiful people and I don’t mean just on the outside, but on the inside.  Beautiful women that one desperate choice left them hurting and alone in their pain and shame.

There are a lot of things we do out of fear.  I want to conquer that fear with every woman I talk with.

I pray I honor my child with every woman I meet.