Here’s another anonymous guest post from one of our Fierce Force ladies. Not only is this story beautifully written, but it’s so bravely shared. The rich imagery in this one breaks my heart for the writer and makes me want to hug and hold her so tightly. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have.
My childhood house was built on a foundation of secrets. The front door was rusted shut from years of neglect. The windows were shrouded in depression. The fridge and dining room were empty, hollow places. The family room was ribboned with caution tape. Anger inhabited the ceiling with such ferocity that it seemed to be alive. Each night I struggled to get comfortable on a mattress of shame and a pillow stuffed with fear.
Though the yard was a jungle of confusion that was almost impossible to navigate, there was magic there. Tucked away was a space where a community garden had been planted over the years just for me. It was created by people who had touched my life with a glimmer of hope (dandelion), an inkling of salvation (baby’s breath), a reassuring hand on my grief-stricken shoulder (oak tree). This garden nurtured me until I was old enough to strike out on my own and begin anew.
Today I write this from the home I created with my husband. Our welcome mat is well worn from those we have invited inside. Picture frames hang throughout that highlight adventure and celebration. Our kids build forts in the family room and jump on their beds. Their beings are ignited by messy art projects and playing make believe under the fruit trees in the backyard. Warm family dinners are as life affirming as the family traditions we have established- both made from scratch.
My past is only visible occasionally when the sun shines a harsh light through the windows to reveal a thin layer of dust. I am reminded of the sinking feelings of insecurity and brokenness. In those troubling moments, I take a deep breath and go back to the blueprints of this new home. This home that is built on the solid ground of a loving, happy family, and I am rebuilt.