Even Jesus had a mother and father that loved him. My mother never told me that she loved me. I never met my father. This is not a pity party or a victim validation. This is a love story. I asked my mother when I was 11 years old, why she had never showed me affection or told me that she loved me. She said it was so that I would be strong and would be ok without her. She died a year later at the young age of 31. She never did say those three words to me. My mothers father, her two brothers and her first born have disowned me. They all want to pretend that I dont exist. Ive always felt different from everyone in my family. I refer to myself as the rainbow sheep. This was after my choice to vote for our black President. They hate me for it. I was born incredibly premature to a teenage mom that smoked throughout her pregnancy and in our home until her death. On my birth certificate it says, Mother received no prenatal care. My first bed was a dresser drawer and the address of the home was 415 1/2 Richardson. It was a shack behind another house. My mothers father was a Sunday school teacher. He required her to marry before I was born. This was not a union of love--but one that was paid for so that my arrival in the small west Texas town in the 60s would conform to the proper way. Of course their marriage didnt last. My mother fled from this abusive man when I was 4 yrs old. I did not find out until I was 18 that this man, was not my father. I ask God to forgive them all, for they know not what they have done. Wrapped in the warm embrace of my Beloved, Jeunus and in the womb of the mountains of my 50th home, I have been overcome with profound sadness as well as exuberant joy. I have been shielded by the grace of God from feeling this immense pain and hurt throughout my life. It is only now, that I finally feel safe enough to let the tears and the words from the past flow. I have never truly been loved until now. I didnt know what love was or how to love myself, so it is really no surprise that my choice of partners in the past were lessons on what love isnt. In my high school yearbook, a friend that later died from leukemia wrote, Sherrie, how is it that you are always happy and smiling when I see you? Dont you know how many problems you have? God bless you, Kip... Fake it until you make it has been my motto in the past. I think I have made it so its time to get real and share my story of love. *** This is the beginning of my story and what I hope to be a published book someday. I wrote the song along with many, many others during the last few years of healing and processing the past while discovering who I AM.*** Thank you for your friendship and support on this hero journey. Please share my story and song with those as you feel inclined. The video is rough. It was never made with the intention of sharing it with the public.
Posted on: Mon, 17 Nov 2014 20:25:35 +0000
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