Bitter Sweet but Better Now

This is really random…I’ve been contemplating for several days what I’d post for today. Would I post a generic Mother’s Day message or would I dare bring up that fateful day I experienced 13 years ago again. Two days ago, I assumed I was beating a dead horse with my reason for leaving Memphis the first time…but I was awaken from a nap yesterday afternoon by a scene that sounded all too familiar to let things go unsaid.  I wondered why God wanted me here. Not just in Memphis, but specifically in this part if town.  The neighborhood’s not the best, but when I inquired of God where He wanted me…this is where He decided…so today I finally put up my pictures. I’ve been hesitant to unpack because I’ve moved 4 times within the passed year. I’d hoped that this place would be very temporary, but the other day I was reminded that I was being humbled. I’d witnessed the pain of domestic abuse at all levels before…this time I contemplated dialing 911. The dispute was just outside my front window….the kids were crying…she was cursing and I heard the blows…how he proved his words with his fists…how the children kept jumping in and out of her car…obviously unsure whether the car was safer than the apartment. I didn’t want to witness a death. I didn’t want her children to witness one…I laid in bed…frozen considering whether he too was packin’…so many nights I’d heard the shots fired…one morning after…the police and an ambulance drove by slowly….only one thing could be said of an ambulance in no rush…the morgue was the obvious destination…hearing this young mother’s screams made me wonder had anyone heard mine and done nothing as well. When I finally got up…she’d been driving off with her kids in tow…so today while I’d love to celebrate Mother’s Day by applauding all mothers…I believe I owe a standing ovation for those who survived an abusive relationship and who protected her kids at the expense of her own safety. Still this reminder brings a bittersweetness for me. I’m glad to be a survivor of domestic abuse…blessed because God allowed my children and I to escape the trauma that we endured…a little grieved because my own mother got her wings last year…still I’m better.

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