eirenemaker

Peace, tranquility, repose, calm, harmony...it denotes a state of untroubled, undisturbed, well-being. Blessed are those who have eirene and blessed are those who make it.

There's a big difference between real inner peace and numbness. It took me the better half of 44 years to figure that out. This journal is going to be about those 44 years and all that I learned and didn't learn through out them. It's going to be about my journey, from then until now. It's going to start slow and be brutally honest, sometimes graphic, and always with the thought to glorify Papa in Heaven who carried me through the whole thing....even when I didn't know it. I'm going to hold nothing back, and will do my best to highlight everything and everyone who had a huge part to play in bringing me to where I am today. There is scripture that says what the devil intended for evil, God has turned to good, and this journal is going to show you all that God did to make it good.... from introducing me to the idea of His Son when I was 6.... to making Him real to me at a snowcamp when I was 13..... to the miracle of my children.....to letting me go do it my way because He values our free will to choose....and patiently waited out on the road everyday for my return....to the 12 steps that taught me He really was my Papa.....right up to the awesome cheerleading friends in my life today who buoy me up whenever I need it. All of it!!

So, to the beginning....once upon a time...sorry, couldn't resist.

I was born in 1962 to a very young mother who was swept off her feet by a navy seaman who passed himself off as an officer...need I say more? I was the youngest of two girls - born only 11 months apart. We lived in a little bungalow on the island and my earliest childhood memory was of the split kitchen door - it was painted torquoise and the bottom half stayed closed while you could open the top half - I remember mom with her big red hair beehive, tight little Marilyn jeans, white blouse, blood red nail polish and lipstick, standing at the door, jiving to rock and roll and smoking a cigarette. That is my earliest memory of mom.

I have two childhood memories of dad. The first is when we were in the car...I was in the back seat...we were returning from mom's Saturday afternoon at the "beauty parlour". Dad swung his arm back and smacked me across the face because I'd picked gum off the sidewalk...I know...EEWWW...come on, I was only 3!! The other memory was of him leaving. I remember "mommy and daddy" fighting that day...remember shattering glass and really loud voices and the butterflies in my stomach as I went to hide behind the rowboat leaning up against the garage. I think my sister was hiding in her room. Then I heard the car start up and saw daddy driving away. I haven't a clue how long I sat behind that rowboat crying. When mom called me in for dinner, she told me dad was gone, wouldn't be back, and it's your turn to do the dishes tonight....oh yeah, and stop your blubbering or I'll give you something to blubber about. I was 4.

The 2nd chapter comes tomorrow....or whenever.