Shared @
http://jenniferdukeslee.com/tell-his-story/
Following is the beginning of the brokenness of a mother's heart as I cried out to God. There is despair, pain, anguish, and hope in these words/prayers of mine. I believe God hears. Although I believe He is working, at times --after so many years-- I lose hope. I am working on regaining my faith and hope in my God who promises me only good things in the end.
http://jenniferdukeslee.com/tell-his-story/
Following is the beginning of the brokenness of a mother's heart as I cried out to God. There is despair, pain, anguish, and hope in these words/prayers of mine. I believe God hears. Although I believe He is working, at times --after so many years-- I lose hope. I am working on regaining my faith and hope in my God who promises me only good things in the end.
I will share writings from this time in my life over the next few days.
All is written by me and is protected by copyright .
THE CRY OF A BROKEN HEART
JULIE ANNE OLSON
Poetry and prose for
parents loving a child through rebellion
These poems are dedicated
to my precious daughter, and to all the brokenhearted parents who are loving,
or have loved a prodigal child. May you
find comfort in knowing others do share your pain. May these words give you hope and a place of
rest for your burdened heart.
Come to Me, all you
who labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest.
Matt. 28:11
There is always a
place called home,
And if we’ve lost our
way in the darkness,
We only need to look
to the Son.
You are loved.
(Written for the Senior yearbook,
October 1998)
Who are you? I don’t
know you any more. Sometimes I catch glimpses of the girl you used to be, but
you’re changing into a woman, a different person, a stranger. I’m afraid some day I won’t be able to
recognize you in any way. That frightens
me.
BELIEF
There was a time I
believed in love.
Then my daughter told
me she hated me
And I lost that
belief.
There was a time I
believed I was a good mother.
Then my daughter told
me she didn’t want me to be her mother any more
And I lost that
belief.
There was a time I
believed I could be happy.
But my heart is
broken because my daughter is now gone from me
And I lost that
belief.
I don’t believe in
anything any more.
I never wanted money
Or fancy cars to drive.
I have no need for
jewelry
Or the fashion trend
to buy.
I’ve only wanted
simple things-
Most nature can
provide.
To hear a songbird’s
clear sweet song
Or watch the setting
sun.
To feel a puppy’s
rough wet tongue
Or enjoy a child’s
laugh.
A richer life no one
can find
Than one that’s
filled with these.
A quiet simple kind
of life
With pleasures bound
to please.
My soul aches. My heart cries. Part of me has died. The child I once cherished no longer
exists. Someone else has moved in and my
daughter is now lost. Where can I go to
find her? Will she ever return
home? No one ever told me it would be
this hard or it could happen this way. I
had hopes, they’re ashes now—dreams, but they’ve been shattered.
I gave her life; she
took it and ran
Away from me.
I’m not what she
wants me to be.
I’m not what I want me
to be.
Am I at all near to
what God wants me to be?
I tried not to think
of you today.
It didn’t work; the
thoughts came anyway.
All I ever wanted was
for you to have a good life and be happy.
I wanted to be a part
of what you became and where you went-
To stand in a corner
and applaud your arrival at you.
I loved you, maybe
too much, or, perhaps not enough.
Do you know
which? Tell me; I’d like to know.
A
continuation of the writings from those beginning years of heart break.
(It's been 16 years now and I am still waiting and praying.)
It hurts! It hurts!
I just want it to
stop.
This pain in my
heart.
This knot in my soul.
It hurts! It hurts!
I can’t be a part of
something she doesn’t want to share.
The pain won’t stop!
I cannot hide.
Sometimes it’s so
intense
I wish I would just
die.
My heartache won’t
cease.
I can’t get away!
I cry! I scream!
I pray!
No matter, it won’t
go away.
Go away, go away, go
away.
Wish I could, but
there is nowhere to go
To escape the pain.
It follows me, haunts
me,
Day after day.
How can one live with
rejection?
Christ didn’t—
He died because of
it.
I now know how he
felt.
Sometimes I’d like to
trade this rejection for death.
But there was victory
after Christ’s death--
In the resurrection.
I’m waiting for the
victory.
It’s been promised.
So I will live,
If only for His
victory
And the resurrection
of a life lost
That will again be
found.
I had a daughter
once, but she went away,
Told me she didn’t
love me—I wasn’t her mother any more.
I am slowly beginning
to believe it.
She never calls or
writes.
It’s like I never
existed for her.
But wasn’t it just
yesterday
I held her to my breast
and satisfied her cries?
Why can’t I comfort
her anymore?
Why does she need
things I can’t provide?
Maybe it was all a
dream
And I never really
did exist for her.
I WANTED
All I ever wanted was
to love you.
To brush your hair,
Hear you laugh,
Kiss you goodnight.
Enjoy your friends,
Give you hugs,
Watch you become an
adult.
I never wanted you
To hate me
Or feel unloved.
Or, hurt you in any
way.
I guess wanting isn’t
enough.
No one ever showed me
how to do these things
And I have failed.
But I so wanted…..
I wish I knew if you
ever cried—
Or needed me.
I wish I knew if you
ever even—
Thought of me.
You see, you’re on my
mind—
Every moment.
I even dream of you.
Did you know I miss
you?
But when I see you—
I don’t even know who
you are.
I remember a
different girl—
One with smiling eyes
And laughter.
You were so excited
about life then—
What you were doing,
Where you were going.
When I look at you I
don’t see her any more.
Do you know where
that girl went?
I’d like to talk to
her.
You see—
I love her and have
so much to share with her
.
If you see her—my girl—
Could you tell her
to come home?
Here are the final
recorded cries of a mother's heart over a rebellious child. My crying
has not ended. I have no idea when it will end. I can only pray and
trust that one day God will be honored and glorified through the
brokenness of our family.
Life can really knock
a person down.
Before the first
round it gets tough.
Beyond my reach
As if dead,
May as well be,
I cannot touch
That wandering child
So far from our
home.
Freedom worn-
A ball and chain;
Thought to be a prize,
Instead a weight.
Weighted down by rebellion-
The destroyer of
youth.
All innocence gone; given
In a frenzy of
impulsive lust
For all one can experience.
Not ready, but
ready thought.
When will it end?
Where will it
end?
And will there be anything left?
Lord,
Help me to
remember that You love her more than I.
But then, I’m at a disadvantage; You know the outcome.
I can only trust and pray.
Each day.
And pray
Oh, pray—all day.
Do You cry as I? Does
it break your heart as mine,
To know she is running from You too?
I can’t catch her, But You can.
So do! Please hold
her fast!
So some day she’ll return; to You, to us
At last.
What’s Out There?
What’s out there in
the shadows, unknown in the dark,
So attractive?
Who wants your
company, but fears the day?
Evil lives in the
recesses of the night.
He lays in wait to
catch you unaware and draws you near,
Until his hold is clasped about you so tight
that the light is out of reach.
Turn and flee!
Scream!
Get away while
there’s still time.
Before the Dark
swallows your very soul
And leaves you raped,
ravaged
And for dead,
In the dark hollow of
your mind
Without a flicker
Of Light for hope.
Where did it all go
wrong?
Who wrote this
chapter of my life’s book?
It’s written all
wrong!
I didn’t want it to
be lived this way.
The chapters are all
mixed up
With some one else’s
story.
Can we crumple up
these pages and begin again?
I’ll write it how I
want it to be read.
It will be more
comfortable, easier to follow.
Like a Fairy Tale
Without an evil witch
or dragons.
But then, what will
be the plot
And who will want to
read it?
Okay, continue on.
But I’d rather it be
less than one hundred pages.
I’m impatient and
want the happy ending.
Quick!
Besides, the
story hurts while it is being written.
Roses
The other day you
stood handing out roses and it made me think………
You are a rose-
A beautiful young lady,
But when I’m with you, I can only
feel the thorns.
They prick and draw blood,
Injure my soul.
Did you know that there are thorn-less
roses?
With breeding and care:
A flower so beautiful and
delicate
One which does not injure or hurt
Does not draw blood and leave
wounds
It grows and unfolds slowly to
maturity
Carefully tended by the gardener
Until it is cut loose from the branch
and presented to the world
Beautiful and confident in its
radiance
To be placed among the best of
the flowers
Ready to unfold on its own
To capture hearts and make a most
positive impression
Taken from the branch too soon—
The petals will not unfold to
show all it can offer of its inner beauty and rich fragrance
Taken too late and the fragrance
is past its best
The petals fall before they can
be enjoyed for their beauty
We were only trying to tend your
inner beauty and radiance,
To cut you loose at the correct
time,
So you could unfold on your own confidently,
positively, and fully,
Into a beautiful and complete
rose
Surrounded by fragrance.
But the elements of life have
invaded our garden.
The insects of hate destroyed all
we had accomplished.
Now we cannot see you among the
flowers;
Our plant has been hit by blight
And only through constant
attention, hard work, and patience
Can it be restored miraculously
to its state of pure beauty.
But, God is known for His
miracles
And He began our garden.
We’re waiting for our miracle.
The pain is
indescribable;
There is an ache
within my heart.
This grief that has a
hold on me
Is tearing me apart.
There are no easy
answers,
No place to lay aside
This burden I must
carry
Until in His arms I
can abide.
The road that I will
travel
Has many times been
trod.
And when all take the
long route
Our Lord must think
it odd.
For the peace that
passes from Him
Is only a prayer
away,
And if we pause a
moment,
A moment every day,
To give the burden to
Him
With Him it would
stay.
Then in grief’s place
we’d find His peace,
And a gentle quiet
rest.
We’d learn what He
has planned for us
Is always
What is best.
Be quiet inside, in your heart with the lasting charm of a
quiet and gentle spirit which is so pleasing to God. I Peter 3:4
Inside---Beautiful
My heart;
Quiet…
Gentle…
A spirit
Pleasing to God
My prayer...
Lord
You know all:
All the joys
All the pain
All the fears
All the loss
All the beginnings
And where it all ends
I look on as a stranger to a stranger and wonder ---why?
All I ever dreamed of is unattainable, vanished, not to be.
Unimportant,
Uncared for…
It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
Oh, to trade places with my child.
I would have loved the nurture and love given,
So missed and coveted at one time.
A life invested, questions asked, eager encouragement.
But it all still remains unattainable.
But now from both sides—
Never given,
Never accepted,
Full circle—Rejection
Lord I never knew how
to love
one who didn’t love
me.
Thank you for
teaching by
Your example on the
tree.
For that I had the need.
I hope for your
return;
I am eagerly waiting
for the day
I do not yet see.
But I know it’s
coming
For I have prayed and
been promised
The desires of my
heart.
Romans 8:25 But if we hope for what we do
not see, then
we eagerly wait for it with perseverance.
Keep her safe….yet break her.
Hold her close…yet let her fall
Draw her near…as each step taken farther from You she
strays.
Never let her out of Your reach…only show her where self
leads.
Love her…even when she’s filled with hate.
Claim her as Yours…although You she has denied.
Bring her back home…You know where she belongs.
Does she never wonder
how she got to where she is?
Lord, she’s some how
lost her way.
Can she not retrace
her steps back to You one day?
Tell her You are
waiting, where the path taken—
She was mistaken.
You’re there to guide
her back to where she used to be.
But only with a
willing heart can she be enabled to see
All that You have
planned for her-
As Your child she’ll
receive.
I Thessalonians 5:18 Give thanks in all
circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.
DO WE THANK HIM
Do we thank Him for
the answer to the prayer that we have prayed
Even though the
answer given was strewn with pain along the way?
We ask to be made Christ
like, yet shudder at the thought-
To walk the path that
Christ walked when we are asked to bear our cross.
Do we thank Him for
the heartache we live with everyday
Knowing we’re a
sinner—
Ahhh, but a sinner
saved!
Do we thank Him in
the shadows when we’re in the Valley
of Despair-
Where He shows us
what is meaningful and our soul has been laid bare;
And all else that we
had hoped for seems to wither in compare?
Do we stop to offer
thank-yous for our pain along life’s way-
Knowing that His
greatest work in us is done when our heart on Him is stayed?
Or, do we only offer thank you when we’re where
we want to be-
When we’re so full of
what He’s given,
Or only on
Thanksgiving Day?
Do we dare, or even
think, to give thanks when we are empty
And what lies ahead
looks grim?
Do we take the time
to stop and humbly give thanks
Just—for Him?
(Written and read
Thanksgiving Eve 1998, Kost Church)
I’ve heard it said
that there is a correct way to pray, a correct way to ask for forgiveness, and
a correct way to forgive. Does God not
know the heart? Is a broken and contrite heart not the correct way? If God gets so caught up in a particular
formula for prayer and forgiveness- what happens when one’s heart is so heavy
and hurting that the formula is forgotten?
Does that prayer go unheard? Is that cry ignored?
No, God does not despise the cry of a broken
and contrite heart.
Psalm51:17 The
sacrifices of God are a broken spirit,
A broken and contrite
spirit-
These, O God you will
not despise. (NKJ)
A true heart.
A need for Jesus.
A plea for help in all weakness.
I understand it now;
I am being pruned to
bear more fruit.
And how can one be
pruned without it being at first
a seeming hardship-
until the fruit comes
forth?
I’m yours Lord, prune away!
It’s hard to take
that first step, but once it’s taken we are on our way.
Each day I’m hoping
for a miracle,
And still, it hasn’t
come.
Yet I’ve been hoping
for awhile now
And pray as each day
ends…
That God would work
His miracle
In this life that He has given.
A miracle of healing
To surround my broken
heart;
A miracle of
wholeness
And restoration for
my soul.
Returning all that
has been taken,
Or squandered in
despair.
Adding more, much
more, to fill my heart
And joy to sooth my
soul.
The miracle is coming
down
The question is not
whether--
They only question’s
when?
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