A Heavy Promise

I stopped myself from saying these words out loud today, “I am so blessed.”
I resisted lying out loud today, “In my own little world it hardly ever rains.”

Yes, I am blessed.
But in my world,
There’s always rain.

Followed by a heavy promise.

One of my greatest strengths is my forgiving heart.
I often forgive before forgiveness is requested.
Because the prisoner forgiveness frees is you.

Another heavy promise.

If you think you know me, think again.
Lots of people say I’m a sweetheart;
Some swear my eyes are more enticing than my smile.
Others speak of my soul, they say I’m a rare type of kindness & beauty.
Then there’s the people who Think they know me best,
They’ll tell you I’m a heartbreaker who leaves just when I’m needed most.

Don’t we all?!

I pondered that question deeply today as I indulged in Colorado mountain air.
Why do I love so hard, but shut-off so easily?!
I guess I shouldn’t say I easily stop loving a person, because that’s not true. I stick it out till I can absolutely take no more disappointment/pain/tears/disgust.
I stick with a person till the very moment I can no longer say, I love you.  

No lies. No hope. No more “one more” chance.
The end.

A heavy promise.

Have you ever wondered who you’d become if you stopped forgiving?!
Have you ever reached your wits’ end and shut-off like a light switch?!

I have.
Too many times.

I’m going through more than a rain storm in my life right now.
What this feels like is the Mother of all disasters, all-in-one & all at once,

Lightning, hail, tornado, and tsunami winds are at war in my mind, heart, and soul.
I’ve lost my mind—I have no perfect quotes left in my head.
I’ve lost my shine—I have no sweetheart glow surrounding me.
I’ve lost my heart—Love is never enough.

A heavy promise.

Parenting is ridiculously hard. You’re damned if you do and you’re dammed if you don’t.
And you’re really screwed if you try to train your children to resist the temptation of Enemy Number One, aka, The Mighty Cellphone.

I want my children to know their worth!
Is that too much to ask for?!
We live in a world where Parents lose battles because they stand up and declare they know Best!

I am a Mother.
Never a Friend.

A Heavy Promise.

My thirteen-year-old son is my storm of all storms. And the irony of this storm is that he is not my first storm!
He is my fourth!
I’ve fought in this war three times now!
But this storm/teen of mine is something new. He is fighting with weapons and demons I know nothing about.
He is a teen in 2019!

He seems to be lost in a world of bling, drugs, and idols. YouTube addicted. Pants tight but still sagging wannabe tug—who (after only two days away from his Mother’s rules) went out and pierced his ears!
If only I could legally beat the living shit out the person (or persons) who signed the waiver!

But honestly, what good would that do?
Sure, I’d release some stress by kicking an incompetent adult’s ass, but no good would come from it.

Fighting, Police calling, Court attending, and even Blogging my heart out will not bring my son back.
My son is a teen in 2019.

He’s never going to be the little boy who never left my side. I’ll never again hear his baby boy laugh that sounded like an excited dolphin. His hands will never again get lost in mine when we pray together before bed.

Before I sent my son off to live with his father, with eyes full of tears, I asked, “Won’t you miss being with me?”
He replied, “No. I’ll be OK not being with you.”
Then rolled his eyes when I started to ugly cry.

My son is a teen in 2019.

I’m at war again.
I’m fighting a battle I know I lose.
Because I do not fight to win my son’s friendship,
I know I must fight to guide his soul.

My son is a teen in 2019.
And I am a Mother who just lost another one of her heartbeats.

I blame myself. I blame his father. I blame social media!
And I REALLY blame his father!
I blame divorce. I blame the coward, and equally blame the courageous Mother that I am.

I’ve lost my mind—I have no more ideas on how to show him Truth.
I’ve lost my shine—I have no Son clinging to my every move.
I’ve lost my heart—Love is never enough.

If you’re raising teenager in this day and age; in this modern era, please know that it is perfectly OK to throw in the towel. Temporarily.

I haven’t given up on my son, I have only decided to watch him from a far; My prayers for his soul will have to be enough.
Prayer is worth more that tears.

Sometimes, encouragement comes from the sideline.
Sometimes, you must break your own heart.
Sometimes, A Mother must let go of the teen who is no longer a boy.

A Heavy Promise.

But seriously, my son is only thirteen!
How is it that my Love, my Tears, my Pleading Broken Heart is not enough?!
Wisdom easily answered:  Love is never enough.

Don’t you remember when you were a Teen?!
And news flash!… You were not a teen in 2019!

I remember being thirteen—I thought I was so grown!
I believed I was unshakable; the biggest badass ever!
I didn’t give my mother the time of day; her lips moved, but I found fault in all her words.
I believed my two-hundred-dollar biweekly paycheck from my afterschool gig at Chuck E. Cheese was going to be enough for rent, food, and necessities.
It didn’t take long for me to learn the hard way.

Today, I am a Mother of a thirteen-year-old son.
Today, I reminded myself what ‘Thirteen’ taught me,
Today, I had a chat with ‘Younger Me’, and she said this:

  “At thirteen, you hated your mother for working two—You hated her for never being home to control and silence the chaos. Your thirteen-year-old self couldn’t clean her bedroom, wash a dish, fold laundry, or be a good role-model for her three younger siblings. Thirteen-year-old Sherene Josephine spent hours locked in her bedroom doing absolutely nothing productive! Thirteen behaving like a small child—Remember getting in trouble (daily) for disrupting the class by performing like you were Bevis and Butthead (Not my finest story Readers, forgive me. MTV had me acting a fool back then! SMH, I cannot believe I share all this crap on my blog.) Thirteen taught you to be cold-hearted and to use harsh words as weapons. Younger you was a jerk. Younger you was a joke. Younger you had to be set free, so you’d learn an honest damn lesson. You were thirteen years old when physical fighting became your only line of defense. You burned all your bridges before high school. You thought you knew it all—Till the world taught you some real tough lessons. Now, tell me again, why you’re so upset with your teen in 2019?”

Readers,
Don’t you hate when ‘Younger You’ drops the mic?!
I think I said to myself “Silence, Younger Me! Grown Me is wallowing in self-pity!”

Yes, Most also call me Crazy.

I remember the first time I called my mother to tell her how truly sorry I was for All the shit I put her through.
I cried a million tears over the phone that day.
My mother accepted my genuine apology.
Still, my grown heart remains broken.

Somethings we can never fix.
Cuts heal, but pain from words said out of frustration, damages hearts. Permanently.
And Apologize are accepted so bridges can be Crossed, not Burned.

I’m not thirteen in 2019 (THANK GOD!) But I am a Mother trying to guide her fourth teen through his next chapter.
And I’m failing miserably.

I haven’t stopped loving my son,
but I have decided to walk away, just when he needs me most.

I look back at my teen years and I wish I would have done more dishes. I wish I would have always cleaned my room. I wish I would have had my mother’s ‘Richie’ instead of her ‘Bob’.
I wish I would have listened to my teachers when they pointed out my leadership qualities.
Fuck it, since I’m putting it all out there—I honestly even wish I would have tried harder to be a cheerleader in high school.

But would I be who I am today, if I’d been perfect at the age of thirteen?!

Today, on a mountain, I saw Jesus’ face.
Today, He reminded me Love is Action.
Love is being there even when you’re not physically there.

Jesus is my Father. He was my protector when I was foolishly running the streets at thirteen.
Jesus was and will always be Light.

Dear Father,
I saw your face on a mountainside today. I know it was You,
because the gorgeous Man you’ve blessed me with saw you too.
Before we left the house this morning, I prayed to you. I thanked you for a new day.
I then asked you to please show yourself to me somehow today—I needed you to give me a sign that you’re in control of mending my shattered heart.

I saw Your face today and I heard Your Promise.
I know that You’re carrying me through this storm.
I know that You’re God of the hills and valleys,
And that I am not alone.

Thank you for another answered prayer.

I have two more important request today, Father.
One: Please silence my thirteen-year-old self the next time she decides to be louder than my bitter wild thoughts.
Two: Please show Yourself to my teen today. Remind him that You are always with him. Remind him that You love him. Remind him to reach for Your hand when he feels he’s drowning.

Dear Son,
I know you follow my blog so I’m sure someday soon you’ll read this.
I want to first state this: I know your ears are pierced—And I’m SUPER PISSED!

But I get it.

You need to crawl before you can walk.
You need to experiment before you can decide.
You need to break a few mirrors before you’ll appreciate your reflection.

I get it. I truly know.
I know it ALL.
And not because I am your Mother,
Because I too was once thirteen.
And I survived it, and so will you, Son.

Be wise. Be safe. Be different.
Be better than Me.

I will always be on the sideline cheering you on!
You’re my son.
When you find yourself in a ring, knocked down from a hard blow from Life,
Remember to look up.
I will be in your corner, on the other side of the ropes,
Waiting for you to tag me in.

And not because I am your Mother,
Because I too have been knocked down.
I got back up, and won the match.
And so will you, Son.

A Heavy Promise, Jasper.

Always,
M.O.M., BlaH BlaH BlaH
An Honest Flawed Mother

Check out my Facebook page for more breathtaking pictures!
Momblah
His laugh was priceless.
Cherish the chaos of a child’s innocence.

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