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Thursday, October 18, 2012

Table For Nine - Chapter 2- Victoria

Here is an unedited glimpse of Chapter 2 from the book.. "TABLE FOR NINE." This Chapter is called... "Victoria."  I attached the original letter of when this was written.  I still cry/laugh every time I read this.

ALL I HAVE TO SAY IS THIS:
If you Invite God into your parenting daily...MIRACLES will happen. ~Heather Elyse

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Dear Mom,

I came to you from an Institution. You told me I was family.
I told you I hated you. You chose to adopt me.
I refused to walk, so I crawled. You bought me knee pads.
I killed animals. You Forgave me.
I broke your valuables. You told me I was more important.
I carved all over your walls. You placed a frame over them and called it “artwork.”
I screamed at you and stomped up the stairs. You hollered back....”I love you.”
I burned down your kitchen. You bought a grill.
I smeared feces on your walls. You told me no big deal, and bought more bleach and removed the bathroom door.
I refused to shower. You bought a blow up pool, and told me to go swimming.
I refused to let you hold me. You grabbed my sock and said...”fine I will hold this.”
I pushed you. You held me tighter.
I tried not to let you in. You kept knocking at my heart.
I ripped up any papers you had- just to hurt you. You printed more.
I tried to run away. You quickly packed me a lunch and handed me emergency numbers.
I screamed at you, hoping you would scream back. You just sat there smiling and singing "oh happy day."
I destroyed my room. You said it needed to be remodeled anyways.
I was depressed. So you jumped on my bed in the morning- and blasted Worship music.
I told you I couldn’t get up in the mornings. You told me to crawl out of bed and you would help me brush my teeth.
I told you I wanted to die. You told me you couldn’t afford a funeral, so why not change the world instead- and die as a Martyr.
I told you I hated men. You cut them out of all my books and magazines.
I told you I wasn’t normal. You said....”Perfect I am only raising up extraordinary different Children.”
~I told you I would never heal.~
You told me you would Hold Me until the pain is gone.

You promised to continue to hold me even when this pain did leave.

The Pain has left.
I am still being held.
Thank you.

Love, Victoria


From the mouth of Victoria:
You sat me down in the middle of our living room floor. You handed me boxes of matches and tons of paper and said, “I am not sure why you destroy everything you touch, but let’s get it out of your system.” So you sat there and started lighting match after match. You started ripping up paper into small pieces, and I sat there cold hearted and just stared at you. I was angry. I am not quite sure why I was angry. Anger was normal for me. I remember you started to pray out loud. I can’t remember the exact words, but the prayer went something like this:

“Dear God, I ask you to walk into this living room right now, and sit down beside our daughter Victoria. You told me to adopt her, I obeyed. She is mine.  She is yours and we love her. You also promised that I wouldn’t have to raise her alone. So it’s your turn God. You are her father! She needs daddy time right now! I need you to show yourself real to her. Take her heart and replace it with yours.    Take my tears and pour them on her open wounds. Let her FEEL again. Hold her like a father holds his brand new baby girl. Pick her up and swing her around. Let her climb on your feet and hold onto your legs... and dance with her! Put her on your lap and sing to her while you caress her hair. May she feel your presence and even smell your sweet fragrance. May she be so close to you that she knows when her daddy God has entered the room. Whisper those precious daddy words ... I love you to her heart. Tell her how much you adore her, and how beautiful she is to you. Tell her that she was birthed from my heart and came from you.  I am certain she has your eyes God. I see you in her. Let her heart beat again. You have seen every tear that she has cried. I happen to know you cried with her. Your word says in Psalm 56:4 that you catch our tears and put them into a bottle, and number our wanderings.  Oh Dear God you have numbered our daughter's wanderings.  Take that bottle filled with her tears, and pour it back out on her like a rush of healing waves.  Go to the deepest parts of her heart and restore."

From the mouth of Victoria:

After you prayed, I began to rip the paper up with you.  With every rip the tears began to fall.  I could feel again.  As I sat there ripping up the papers and lighting the matches, I could feel God rip inside of me, and begin to destroy all the hurt and pain I have experienced.  I couldn't control my sobbing.  I felt these arms that you claimed to be my father surround me.  I thought you were crazy for praying to an imaginary God that you called my father.  That is I thought you were crazy until I felt him.  You kept telling God that I was His and yours.  You always said "Our" daughter when you prayed.  I sat there completely broken and for the first time I did feel my feet on top of God's.  I imagined my hands around his legs, and He danced with me.  Yes God danced with me as I sobbed.  I could feel him lift my broken body onto his lap.  I felt my hair being caressed and I could even smell this fragrance you spoke about.  

to be continued.....