Crumbling bricks

The texture of an old brick crumbling walls
The texture of an old brick crumbling walls

Under normal circumstances, crumbling bricks are not a good sign.  Foundations can begin to shift, and the very structure the bricks support begins to fall.  In some cases, that crumbling structure can be a good thing.  It can cause a person the need to tear down the remainder of the crumbling structure, and seek a new…more stable foundation on which to build.  That’s exactly what has begun to happen in my brick wall life.

If you’ve read my blog for any period of time now, you know that the core of my spirit is like a brick wall.  The negative experiences in my life took on substance over time.  That substance, when continually packed down with the same labels over and over again became hardened bricks.  Those bricks of emotional abuse, and hurts started to build on one another.  Eventually becoming a brick wall that I was using to hide the scared little girl deep down inside.  As I grew into a now 40 something woman, those bricks had a tendency to continue to rule my life.

Bricks created from feelings of worthlessness seemed to follow me wherever I went.  They caused me feelings of inadequacy in all areas of my life.  They literally haunted me, and the wall became a barrier to me becoming all that God had planned for me.  I struggled to find my way around, or even through that wall.  I found myself frequently running into the brick wall head first when I thought I was sailing through life with out worry.  I found myself under a pile of dust and debris that I often wished would rain down over me, and hide me from the outside world.  Those bricks had to be dealt with once and for all.

12084989_10207577183130835_1629775450_oI went for counseling with a dear sweet christian woman, who helped me identify my bricks.  I drew pictures of the bricks, and labeled each one with the hopeless, empty emotions that ruled my life.  Once I was able to see those bricks…to identify all that was holding me back, I had committed to tearing down those bricks.  I prayed about bricks, talked about bricks, and drew images of me hitting those bricks with hammers.  I was bound and determined to get rid of those bricks.  There was only one problem.  It was going to take way more than hammers, and my own commitment to tear down those bricks.  It was going to take a miracle.

Those bricks were a product of my childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood.  They were built over years of being emotionally abused by my alcoholic step-father, and his hurtful words.  They were fashioned out of deep hurts, and they were solid.  That didn’t matter to me.  They were going to change!  They were going to be torn down, I was certain of it.  It was then that not only I began to pray, but the people who love and support me prayed too.  Dad became more and more ill with a degenerative illness as I was working to tear down the bricks.  His illness wasn’t helping my fight those bricks at all.  I found myself angry and bitter at the years of abuse he had heaped upon Momma and me.  Those emotions were compounded with anger that Dad was still lingering with this illness, while dear sweet friends of our were passing away.  Why on earth was that man still here?  Why on earth was he allowed to continue to speak hateful things to Momma…and me when I called to check on the family.  Why?

My daily emails with Mom, and nearly daily phone calls had turned into Mom frequently asking, “Why Lord, Why?”  What had we done so wrong in our lives to cause our continued abuse all of these years?  Would the Lord ever allow Mom time on her own where she could breathe and feel joy?  Would He ever allow us the opportunity to enjoy mother/daughter times like so many of our friends did?  Why Lord?  When would it end?  When would the wall finally come down?

The only way I knew to cope with the anger, frustration, and building bitterness at the situation with Dad was to pray.

(join me tomorrow as the journey continues)



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