A Mother’s Heartbreak

you have said it


Dear God, Dear Jesus, my beloved Lord and saviour,

I’m trying to reach you, but the air is dense around here. Even though I cannot hear you and cannot feel you where I am, I know, Lord, that you pursue me with your unfailing love all the days of my life no matter where I wander. You hear my worries and my doubts and confessions, and though you feel far away, you answer our prayers.

Dear Abba Father,

Everything is possible for you because your love is the most powerful healing force in the universe, in all of creation, and it always has been and it always will be. Please take this cup of suffering from us, for it is painful and tiring. And some of that pain feels so bitter against our skin and in our bellies.

We are not weak, Eloheim, yet this punishment feels so relentless and unfair. After everything that we’ve been through, the way we have been persecuted from our earliest youth, this rebuke feels like too much and we turn from you in these moments.

Should we not be taken into your loving arms and held until you love us the way Jesus son of David did, the way Abraham and Issac and Jacob, Israel, did? Should we not be nurtured and protected and fought for by you, God, the way we missed in our childhood? Should we not be granted rest before you judge us and convict us? We are so weary, God, we need Christ Jesus to carry us all day long and all through the night until each one of us can truly walk on our own.

Abba Father, please take this suffering from us, yet we want your will to be done, not ours. For you will for us to be peace filled and joyous. You will for us to have our needs taken care of. You will for us to be free. We deserve to be free, yet parts of us still struggle to believe this fully. Help us, Lord, to soften and open our hearts so we can allow your love to carry us. Help us, Lord, feel worthy, truly worthy, of your love, even though we are nothing compared to you, even though we would not exist without you, our creator, even though as humans we make mistakes every single day. Show us your love, Abba Father, in ways that meet us where we are.

Oh Sovereign God,

I have a confession to make. I have no idea what I am doing and yet you’ve handed me so much responsibility – like, if I am not centred when I hold the full weight of it I topple forward – and this feels so similar to some ways I’ve been persecuted from my earliest youth. To be given such high expectations to meet, yet to be not given the clear instruction I can hear, confirm, see.

Eloheim, the God of my father and my grandfather and my greatgrandfather,

I cry out to you and ask that you remember the covenant you made with us. I don’t want another failure. I don’t want to be another example of what to avoid and why. Yet, if that is your will for me, Abba Father, I accept my fate, my true fate. Yet, if that is your will for me, I feel like I have already fulfilled my purpose.

So why am I still here?

God, you have handed me such an arduous weight with this responsibility of caring for so many children. Me, I confess to you God, I have been trying to be a loving mother on my own. I confess that I have no idea what I’m doing. None. I confess that what I’ve been trying hasn’t worked. I confess to you, God, that I need your help. I need you to help me with everything, God. You gave me so many children to care for, Eloheim, but I am just a girl myself in many ways. How can you look at me and see a person who deserves to be handed such responsibility? What do you see in me that says, This is a woman who can care for thousands of children. More. More? More children that I can count. What is it about me specifically that makes you so certain I can handle this responsibility?

Because, God, of all my children scattered around the world, I cannot say that each is safe, that each knows s/he is loved, that each feels a true joy, that each knows their purpose, or even that they have a purpose.

I confess, Abba Father, that some of my children have fallen into the hands of the devil, and I have tried everything I can think of to free them, but nothing has worked. I confess, God, that I see this as a failure on my part. I confess, God, that some of my children have willingly run to the devil, being driven by the desire to destroy themselves or others or both.

This is my greatest heartbreak, God, and I confess that I have been trying to heal my heart on my own, and that nothing I’ve done has really worked and that I need your help.

Oh, to walk on this earth as you did as Jesus of Nazarene, so filled with faith and free of nagging worry.

I confess, God, that I have allowed both my guilt and resentment interfere with the way I parent and love the other children. Guilt for not giving them enough of what they need to keep them out of the devil’s arms, under his thumb, and resentment toward the devil himself.

What kind of lost child makes it his life purpose to defy you, to punish you, to bring harm to your children because he knows it will hurt you? What kind of lost child rips out all of the human parts of himself so he won’t be manipulated the way that he manipulates these children?

All to prove to you that he doesn’t need your love. That he doesn’t need your power or protection. That he can not only get along without you but that he can do better without you. And then it wasn’t enough for him to do well without you. He needed to prove to you that others don’t need your love or power or protection. And to prove all of these things to himself.

He has persecuted everyone from his earliest youth. And I tried to love him, Father, I tried to give and give and give him love and shelter and the security of knowing there’s power he can access through you that won’t electrocute him, but he never wanted this love. He wanted to control your love and everyone who loves you. He did it to destroy you and everyone who loves you. I know now, God, that his heart will always be hardened, heavy, but he is one of your children, too, and each of your children deserve your love.

God, I am terribly afraid that I’ve been too caught up in this cycle to properly care for all of my children. This cycle of loving because I want to believe that love will change the world, anger as the scales are ripped from my eyes by his depravity and absolute disregard for all life, fear, resentment that he has tricked me again, and then trying love just one more time.

Here I am, Almighty Lord, trying to offer whatever shelter and light I find in you, too pitifully caught up in my own fear of failure to turn any person away – even those who do not welcome me – and to shake the dust from my feet as a public testimony against them.

I confess, God, that part of me cannot believe that love isn’t powerful enough to change even the most wicked and hardhearted because it makes me feel helpless as a mother. If this nurturing momma love that comes straight through me from you cannot break open each human who walks on this earth, all who have ever walked on this earth, then I don’t know how I can believe it’s powerful at all. I don’t understand your power if it opens one heart and not another.

Each of the children you’ve entrusted to me has the power to keep their heart closed.

How can you ask me to walk away? How can you ask me to leave them alone? Even when they are unreachable, God, I’m the mom who will sit beside them just so they know the lies that the devil tells about not being worthy of love are not true. Even when they can’t really see me there beside them, I know part of them knows I am there. And I believe this presence might just make the difference on those really bad days.

I know this is probably part of the reason you gave me this responsibility. But I’m tangled somehow, loving sideways.

I need you to help me, God. I need you to promise me that even before I fully leave, you will be there beside them. And even if they can’t hear or feel you where they are, I need you to promise me that it’s enough.

Help me believe that you will keep them safe from the devil while I’m away. Help me forgive the devil for all the ways he has destroyed my children, your children, our children, God, all for the sake of his guarding his own broken heart by turning it to stone. Help me forgive myself, God, for not protecting them from his sneaky, devious ways. Help me forgive myself for not being able to free these children, God.

Tell me I did everything you asked, God. Tell me I haven’t failed. Tell me my love was enough, even for those children who never felt it.

some call me weirdo with the big head

There is a distinct possibility that I am profoundly and irreversibly screwed up.

Dear God, I know you’re capable of everything and that you know everything and can be everywhere at once but I’m kind of nervous that you’ll think my fears are weird.

I’m afraid I don’t know how to let go. That I hold on – to both people and hopes – way too long in ways that aren’t healthy for me or the people I hold onto.

Weird bc in the last 10 years I’ve let go of a core belief that I’m not worthy of love, not really, and I’ve let go of a relationship I thought would last forever and a family – no 2 families – and a group of friends I considered family, brothers. I’ve let go of a home I worked hard to afford, a car that made life so much easier than taking the bus.

I let go of a $60k+ / yr job bc of severe depression that became something I could no longer tuck under the bed or ignore. And doing this led to a healing process that got bigger and bigger until it consumed my entire life.

I let go of my pride when I applied for assistance after the quality health insurance I paid for through my benefits told me I wasn’t going to get help beyond short term and I was left alone with zero income and no help. i let go of more of my pride when I took my daughter to the food bank.

I let go of getting stuck in pain when people judged me – bc I knew how they judged me even when they didn’t say it out loud. I let go of allowing others to run my life, to dictate what I thought about myself, what I thought about the world and what was right and wrong.

I let go of more pride when I called the family who had kicked me out of their home bc they couldn’t handle my depression, knowing I had no income and their granddaughter needed food, the day I resigned to the fact that I wasn’t going to be able to avoid eviction in my 1200 / month basement apartment.

I let go of my fear of being bullied and manipulated and intimidated and threatened in order to stand up for myself and my daughter when it was necessary.

I let go of control completely that night I feared for my life after I had been up for weeks bc the bed bugs were so bad they were crawling on the walls and I couldn’t stand sleeping in my bed or sitting on our couch so I slept sitting up in a chair at the kitchen table. I was terrified that people I left would set my house on fire if they could find a way to do it without getting caught. I surrendered my life to you, God. That was the night I fully and consciously gave my life to you.

I let go of my belief that the energetic vibe people create with their wishes, even when fuelled by intense anger, hatred and fear was absolute, something that would be manifested in the physical plane.

I let go of my fear, one I’ve held for a long long time, that I could never be truly safe until people who wanted to hurt me – really hurt me – were far enough away to forget about me completely. Until their thirst to punish and destroy was somehow sated.

I let go of silence.

I let go of the need to be believed by every single person who knew any part of my story.

I let go of pretending to be okay.

I let go of turtling when people around me had bigger and louder beliefs.

I let go of making myself small. Invisible.

I let go the arrogant belief that I had to do everything by myself, that I was in charge of my life and that I had to make everything happen if anything was going to happen at all, like you didn’t decide that no matter how pushy people around me were.

I let go of the fear that I am alone and that even if I’m not alone, I’ll fuck up anything you give me to do and my life will always be stalled.

I let go of the fear of trusting people again.

I let go of my fear of opening my heart again.

I let go of my fear of being my authentic self.

I let go of trying to show people in a way they could understand when they weren’t interested in understanding.

I let go of my fear that I could never be a good enough mom and that I would always be ensnared in an ugly custody fight no matter what I did or didn’t do.

I let go of my fear that people will believe false things about me and my fear about how that would affect my life and my daughter’s life.

I let go of my fear that I could never be protected from the biggest nastiest most willing to be depraved and act insane in order to make sure no person fucked with them people.

I let go of my fear of being alone for the rest of my life.

I let go of the belief that I had any idea what love truly is.

And I could not have let go of any of these things unless you walked me through facing each of those fears in your perfect timing.

I couldn’t have done it without giving my life to you, without surrendering completely to your will even when I was feeling anxious and alone and fully convinced that I had no way of knowing what you expected of me bc you weren’t here with me in the flesh able to clearly explain it to me in words I could hear through a mouth I could trust was real bc I could see it and smell it and hear it (and touch it I guess if I struggled to trust my other senses).

I gave up my hope of having my future husband fall from the sky and into my life when there was a time that hope was the only thing that kept me fighting for my life through the trials I had to go through in order to get through my fears.

I let go of relying on humans to reassure me and comfort me and tell me what was right for me and what you were telling me to do, which way you were telling me to walk and how.

I let go of all need to have a path and belief structure about life that stayed the same in order to give me a sense of security that, though false, was way less terrifying than standing at the edge of a cliff and looking into an abyss and jumping.

I let go of my fear of destroying things, even bridges that led only to pain, and promises I made before I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep them. I let go of my fear of creating space. I let go of my fear of allowing new.

Okay, you’re still working with me there.

That’s why I think you’ll find my fear weird. I do know how to let go. You’ve been showing me how and holding me through the grief and guiding me along right paths even when my fears put up obstacles causing the path to zig and zag so much I think I might even be over my motion sickness now.

But as much work as I’ve done in the area of letting go, I worry I still hold people in my heart. People I no longer speak with, people who hurt me and never planned to stop, people who have never stopped hurting me and wishing for me to die alone and be buried in an unmarked grave.

And I confess, God, that it’s guilt keeping them there. In a place that might be holding them back. Because I believe now that I know the only path to salvation and that every single person must be saved in order for me to feel worthy of being saved myself.

How can I be worthy of a salvation you paid such a high ransom for when I haven’t done absolutely every single thing possible to give each person I’ve loved a safe space free of expectation free of demands free of charge?

Yes, I know that’s your job. I really do. I know it in my mind but not in my heart.

How can I accept your free gift of true freedom when I’m over here kicking people out of the rooms of my heart?

How can I be free when I know there are people you’ve put in my path who are still suffering in ways they can’t see and don’t understand.

I feel guilty, God, to live in your love when I’m not working in the same way I once did to give these people I’ve loved the most unconditional free space of peace respect and love I could imagine possible before I knew your love.

God, I confess I’ve made promises to people that they will have a room in my heart forever. I told them they can stay as long as they needed. I asked them to wipe their feet before they came in, but even if they didn’t do that I let them in.

Who am I to turn anyone away?

Who am I to decide who gets love and who doesn’t?

How can I discriminate or play favourites to any of the people I’ve mothered in one way or another along my very weird journey?

And if these things are locked somewhere in a place that doesn’t ‘really’ exist because it doesn’t have a physical door? How can I explain why I can’t keep my promises and make sure they have a safe transition to the heart down the road when they are only ghosts now, only parts of people, maybe even a copy of those parts, none of which have ears?

How can I let these people go fully and trust they will be okay when you’ve explicitly told me that some of them will never find freedom?

That freedom is not possible for them?

If even you’ve given up on them, God, how can I leave them alone in the flume with nothing?

How can I walk away knowing they’ve given up on themselves when I’ve held a belief for a very long time that all they need to start the journey of finding love is one genuine chance at feeling even a fraction of that love?

What if I turn them out just as they decide to open their hearts?

How can I not feel guilty when it seems as though not everyone I have loved will feel your love?

How can some be chosen and not others? How can some be examples of a hard heart while others are examples of living with your love overflowing from us? When there is enough love for everyone?

How can I not feel guilty saying goodbye and turning these people out of my warm, free heart when I know their beliefs are keeping them chained to their suffering?

If we’re here to be living examples of your love, God, for people like the person I once was who don’t feel worthy of your love, how can I walk away? Especially knowing how long it took me, and how important it was for me to reconnect with some parts of my past?

Knowing how the mind plays tricks on us even when we do feel the need to reach out and reconnect?

Can I be available to these people if they need that without giving them a forever room in my heart?

I’m doing something wrong, God, I know that much.

Back when I was a kid, though, part of me was so angry at each witness of the subtle harmful exchanges that did not inspire them to act. And this inaction that left me alone in a certain hell. I spent so much time being resentful of these people, God, people you put in my path to help me. And their false promises weren’t enough.

That’s it, isn’t it? I feel guilty because as a child I saw only the higher selves and divine guardian angels of these witnesses, and for most of my life I bet my life and put all of my hope on the promises made to me by their angels.

I took it all as more real than any solid thing on this earth. I didn’t have any way to know that the people were disconnected from you and that they didn’t even know what promises they were making to help me.

And doing so kept me running through a dream world most of my life.

God, help me forgive those people who were disconnected from you and were only unable to help because of that.

Help me forgive myself for holding resentment.

Help me trust that I’m not turning people out because I’m disconnected, but because it’s Your will, Abba Father.

Thank you for being patient with me and never leaving me. Thank you for bringing me the perfect circumstances to reconnect with you and to be willing to trust.

Help me banish guilt forever, trusting that my mind is not playing tricks on me when I think it’s actually quite arrogant of me to believe that I know better for anyone than they know for themselves.

I believe, God, but help me with my unbelief.

Keep me close to you always so that I can remember you never leave, even when we can’t hear or believe.

Give me a sign that the way I now see this guilt is really your way, God.

Thank You for giving me the honour of being guided by and filled with your love, the most powerful healing force in the universe.

Thank You for helping me with this log in my eye.


oh those eyes

covered rooftops in early February
sharing my fears as you lace your fingers through mine
everything between us collapses when you take me in your arms
I never told you this, but I have never let anyone hold me like you do
the worry i hide behind my heart just comes out with your lips on my crown

that first time i said i love you
outside of dreams
the way the feeling overwhelms me and spills as words
the way you must have felt as you watched it break
a vision of floating near shore
your hand on the small of my back
the way i spent time away to know what love is
the way i came back knowing yet still resisting
the way you’re such a patient man
the way everything you are fits perfectly with all i am not
the way all i am somehow fits you
the way i got carried away talking about you
the way my own words woke me

i’m in love with you
you have my heart
when did that happen?
oh, i’m so fucked
it’s not funny!

the way the rest of the night went by in a blur
the way you look in a tie
the way you make it easy for me to surrender
the way you help me walk through my fears
the way you smiled as you woke from that dream i had too
the way we are together

remembering the way i whispered, you don’t have to say it back
but i was holding my breath
the way all you’ve done shows me
the way i know