Tell Me Where It Hurts.
Six children. That's what I've had. Six. It seemed to begin so long ago. First, Cynthia Corinne, then Sarah Margaret. Along came Jonathan Leigh Ray, then Johanna Lyn. Ten years later came David Edward, followed by the last, Matthew Charles.Nearly forty years ago it all began, and my baby Matt is only going on 17. I guess you could say for me, motherhood has been a career. I think it's a career that faces no retirement, because I'm still in the picking up stages. It begins with picking up toys and clothes. Somewhere following, it advances to picking up everything in general. Dishes, school books, shoes and dirty socks, etc. Picking up. Perhaps I should be called P.U. for short. Now, all along the way, I've always picked up pieces of my heart in the process. Shouts of anger that totally disarm me, denials as to whether or not I may be their mother, and then of course, the really good one, "I wish I'd never been born!" Pieces of my heart strung out all over the place. A close friend of mine wrote a poem about his Piece of Mind. He is exactly the one who inspired me to write about pieces of my heart. He's has no children. Disoriented and taken aback, he wonders about children. Lost in a trail of thoughts and memory, I conclude for him that it's OK, because in the long run, they just go away and leave you. However, they don't. Not really. You're no longer picking up toys or dirty socks, but you continue to pick up pieces of your heart. All grown up and completely on their own, they still pull and tug on what's left of your worn out, tired heart. The latest? Two of my God-given blessings refusing to speak to each other for the rest of their lives. A mother remembers these two playing together. She remembers them curled up on the bed next to each other sleeping. Even in later years, when she has grown up herself a little more in wisdom, she remembers them constantly being there for one another. Now mothers themselves, realizing the fortune that is theirs in each other, they have blessed their own mother's heart with their love and ever constant comradery. There is no greater blessing for a mother, then to see that through it all, something like this was instilled into their hearts. She knows that when she is gone, they will all have each other. After all is said and done, isn't that why she had them? She could have stopped at one or two, but seeing all this wonderful growing kinder garden only inspired her to continue to add more. Obviously, selfishness played a big role in her decision. Who wouldn't want to stand in a gentle, warm rain forever? The main purpose though, was to continue to populate their world with love and inspiration. Now, two have cast each other from their lives. This is not something that happened yesterday that will be okay in a few weeks. It has been this way for a very long time. Long enough to make even a mother wonder if there is any light at the end of the tunnel. Pieces of her heart continuing to crumble and cut into her soul. Pieces of her heart shattering and breaking her very spirit. Can this be fixed? It must be fixed! This time her heart continues to crumble. This time she has no closure, no repair. I know that it can be fixed. I know that the pieces will fit together again. I watched them fall away. Don't they realize that they are both part of me? Don't they see that they are rejecting a part of me? Can't they see that all seven of us are a part of a bigger heart? The heart that placed us all together. Rejection only spreads pain to all, like weeds in a garden. It hurts. It hurts.*****
