Earth, Wind and Lies

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I struggle with regret. I understand guilt and shame and I have dealt with those. Grief is hard. I did it. I have taken all of the steps and read all of the books and verses. I know where my heart is–and I am ok. I wasn’t always ok. I lived in a dark, lonely, loud nightmare for a long time in my twenties. I did the work. I got help. I learned and grew and I am a better human for it! In a world where “Help” is considered weakness…I am most proud of those moments when I was at rock bottom and reached upward for a hand up instead of dwelling in the mire of my own creation.regret

Shame…I am good at wearing that–like some gals wear Prada or Jimmy Choo’s I wear shame and I make it look good! It took a bit if learning to know the difference and I had to choose not to pull that out of the wardrobe…that was hard to learn.

Regret–different from Guilt and Shame. Somethings you can’t take back–words, moments, thoughts, actions…and even if you are given the sweet breath of forgiveness on your neck–some things leave a mark. It always surprises me when it comes to the surface–I carry it with me like a shadow–I hardly notice most days…but I carry a scar.  My scar doesn’t hurt…it just reminds me of the hurt.

This week, I got hit hard…I have a bout of Regret.regret6

I love to grow vegetables and flowers. When I was a girl my strong, kind, handsome, gentle Pa Kenny and my sweet, quiet, gentle G’Pa Bernard both had gardens and summer visits included helping them. I got the message in my head that heroes and handsome men had gardens and I wanted one too!

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I adore the smell of the earth and  the fragility of the seeds and seedlings. I feel the sun on my skin and smell the wind. After a long harsh winter it seems so decadent to enjoy the splendor of it all. When my garden spot is dead and buried in a blanket of white, some days I plan  my plot just to pass the hours.

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This week in the middle of the planting and smelling and feeling and dreaming it hit me….hard. Regret!

I wish I had not, if only, why did I, I would give anything…it starts there and I dwell on those thoughts–then like a surprise attack from an invisible enemy…Lies…and I listen…I am a failure, a fraud, I am evil, unlovable, unworthy I should never have been forgiven.

A scar is a scar–I can’t erase it but a Lie is a Lie and I don’t have to believe it.

lie

I can’t believe lies..I must press on

I am here…living…I have these boys…I matter. I embrace my scars they are a part of me. I am thankful for my scars they have taught me much.  I fail, yet I am loved. My life is a mix of work and pain and hope and joy and growth and loss and tears and love–and that is okay.

Today I will place seed and seedling in dirt…and I will walk away…and I will doubt the magic! How can something so simple–so easy become something so grand? I will still be filled with wonder and amazement when I wake to discover that these seeds and water and earth and sun have done exactly what they were made to do…Grow!

seedling

Like me…I bloom and thrive with a little rest and love and even with these scars…But not with lies–I will not listen.

Go grow something, some way, some how–it is good for your soul! I guarantee you wont regret it.

Sincerely, Sara

 

8 thoughts on “Earth, Wind and Lies

  1. Wow! Sis! You are on the track for success. Living daily and listening to the truth. Power is broken when we don’t believe the lies! I love you. Get the garden going for the grandpas! They are proud of you!

  2. Sara, you are strong, you are loved! It had to be hard to write this. Somwhere, someone will read this and feel hope. Thank you.

  3. Beautiful. Regret is the most disabling negative emotion of all, because there is no end to hope.
    For the first time this year, I decided to work at my fear of creepy crawlies and did some gardening. agreed, my neighbors must have wondered why I routinely shrieked and jumped away, but the bed of daffodils and tulips were worth it. They were my babies, and they were my connection to the earth, my little contribution to making the world a prettier place.

  4. Pingback: T. M(ay).I. | thesisterslice

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