Shortly after going to bed and then waking up the little girl thought, maybe tonight my mother and my aunt will stop neglecting me tomorrow. Amen. Her little prayer was never answered. Just repeated and rearranged once she married. Maybe tonight my husband will stop abusing me tomorrow. You know, like he said he would. She thought, I know God didn't want me to continue to live like this, so what am I supposed to do besides return to you since no one will love me like you.
Soon as the little girl in the grown woman's heart said that, she wept. Breaking down with a toddler on her hip. Because subscribing to that story was a lie. She knew God was there the whole time. Toddler on hip, broom in hand, bruise on heel. Locking eyes with her self in the floor length mirror, that's where she decided she saw God for the first time. The lack and neglect she grew accustomed to, from her childhood care givers, she soon realized she signed up to now give herself.
Anger grew because she was a baby, no way she could have known. But she thought of others who seemed to be born with the knowing. They didn't have to take what they were given from birth and child rearing, and think that was it. That was the best she could get, is what she thought. Her God, forgetting her, her family leaving her but yet keeping her close to maintain a watchful eye. Boiling anger now, because of all the times she missed the sign and the que to start finding all the things outside of neglect.
Adoration, support, affection, she could give them to herself and find others willing to do the same. That is the secret, its not in what drives acceptance. The big things and the status symbols, are empty and thrive on heartache. Love resides in the slow burn and build up, helping with laundry, patience, abstaining from fowl language. In all the things left unsaid on purpose because its felt and confirmed from filling unspoken needs. Affirming someone's existence by giving them what they need.
Getting her lick back took some time and caused her to need more healing. So she drank more water, prayed every prayer she could recall from Sunday's in bible school with her mother and her aunts mother. Those sunny and chilly Sundays in august she recalled the fondest. When her mothers mother would take her little brown hand and hold it the whole way to and from church. To practice religion yes, but she felt loved in her palm.
God was in her grandmother, God lived in her. The toddler now school age shared God through his eyes with her. She was able to both guard and love the little girl in her heart now. No on left on the list of those she needed to apologize to. Crossing herself off second to last to her mother. For she was just a girl too. Finding love in herself made it easy to find it in others, share it with whomever, and leave those who would not reciprocate. Friends, colleges, associates, and lovers.
Now going home to doesn't feel like a visit being rushed through. It is an opportunity to love her mother and her aunt. In ways they never imagined, it was magical. It was what they needed themselves as little girls. What they couldn't understand that she needed as a little girl too. The God in her healed her heart and now she can heal others, theirs in particular.
Here is where she gave up that husband. He didn't recognize her anymore anyway. He was now actually scared of her. Not fearful of her hurting him, but sacred she could see who he really was. Her heart posture revealed the truth in others, even those she didn't want or need to see. Anyone in a room she entered was forced to adjust. Their clothes, or even within their skin. She left them with a gentle reminder, to keep close to God so they don't lose themselves.