whispers from my soul ~

“The reflections that follow touch on experiences of emotional and physical harm, and I offer this with care in case these themes are tender or triggering for you.”

As many of you know, writing has always been one of the ways I breathe. My journals stretch all the way back to when Jamie was a newborn and we moved to The Netherlands in December of 1977. Ron went ahead of us to find a home and prepare the way, and I followed with a baby and a heart full of unknowns. Those journals—boxes and boxes of them—have traveled with us through countless moves. Well, most of them. A few spent nearly a decade tucked away in a storage unit, waiting for me to return to them.

During our recent move into our “Little Home on Wheels,” I stumbled across a simple loose‑leaf notebook filled with pieces of my heart—stories, reflections, and prayers I had forgotten I’d written. Finding them felt like a gentle nudge to start sharing again. I’ve been wanting to post more regularly, ideally every other day, and this felt like the perfect place.

A bit of background for this upcoming series: during my years in therapy from 2002 through the spring of 2010, one of the most meaningful suggestions I received was to write my own psalms—just as David did long ago. These writings became a way to pour out my heart honestly and openly before Poppa God. In this series, I’ll be sharing those psalms and stories, not in any particular order, simply as they come.

Psalm 1 ~ 11/5/2007

I have been told by many that you are a God of Love. A God who cares about everything about me today and in all my previous days. Lord, I’ve been told you are my Abba Father, my Daddy ~ but Lord what can I say you are is a friend who listens to me whenever I cry out to you. You don’t ever shove me aside. Lord you are my confidant, the one I can bring anything to and none of it will surprise you. Lord, I know I can trust you, that you won’t repeat things to others, that you won’t yell at me or push me aways.

Though I know others call you Abba Father, Daddy ~ saying those words or associating them with you is still so hard. In my mind, when I think of what Ali would think, calling you Abba Father, Daddy is just too difficult. I want to call you Abba Father, Daddy, but the pictures get too muddled. A Daddy is supposed to love his little girl, take care of his little girl and protect her at all cost. But Lord, I am so afraid to call my Heavenly Father, my Abba Father, my Daddy because my dad’s have always hurt me in one form or another and I just don’t think I can risk that~that somehow, even unintentionally you will hurt me. I know you repeat over and over in your Word that you love me, that you will never leave me, that you are always with me. I am still afraid to let go completely and call you Abba Father or Daddy. Maybe it’s because I don’t want one more dad to disappoint me one more time.

Lord there have been so many times where I have been disappointed, pushed aside for someone or something else and I just can’t afford to go there one more time.

I feel like the two men who were to love me, care for me and most importantly protect and love me failed completely! Left me hanging to deal with things on my own.

My biological dad hurt me in so many ways. I know I need to be open and honest in sharing these things but Lord, even thinking of those times I find myself feeling like someone is choking me, that if I could just puke up all the feelings and thoughts that maybe, just maybe Ali could break a little freer from the ties that keeps tied up in knots, from the fears that somehow my dad can’t hurt me anymore (sometimes it seems like the memories are more scary than the actual event).

Daddy was the one who was supposed to be the one man in my life who would not allow anyone to hurt me, but in reality, he was one of those in my life who has hurt me from my first memory of being the 6 year old girl who just wanted the kitchen that Santa brought her put together so she could just play. Instead you got drunk, screaming and yelling at me that this is just a stupid cardboard kitchen that you’re going to break apart anyway. Why should I bother putting it together? You yelled at Mommy, what a stupid gift! Why couldn’t she find one that came in one piece. You threw tools around the room, you were cussing and yelling and all I could think of doing was telling you “it’s okay Daddy, I don’t really need it.” Crying and begging you to just leave it, I didn’t’ need it anyway. I remember I just wanted the screaming and yelling to stop. I remember going to my room and hiding in my closet, praying and wishing you would just go away.

You did go away for a little while. You came back and things were okay for a while but then the screaming, yelling, hitting and shoving started up again. I was so confused. I wanted you there to love me, care for me, protect me. But no, the hitting, yelling and screaming would start again and then I would want you to leave. I was so confused. One minute you were there trying to be a good daddy and the next you were hitting me, screaming at me that everything was my fault! If I would only be a good girl none of this would happen.

I don’t know how many times we did this family dance with you being home and things seemed okay and then things would go crazy again. The drinking, yelling, hitting, bucket loads of hurtful things and there was nothing I could do to stop the cycle that continued up until I was 30 years old.

First you would be there, all loving and caring and then wham! screaming and hitting, name calling and throwing of things would become the norm.

When I was 12 you lied in court, saying you would always have me to love you because you were my dad and that you because you were my dad and that you would not always have your friends. Once again you hurt me, pushing me away, yet taking me for granted. Not good enough for you to help me but good enough to push me away like a dirty old rag.

When I called you when Royce died and asked you to come ~ no you sent Kathy instead. Why didn’t you come, why couldn’t you be there for me just once?

There are other times when you hurt me, made me feel like I was not good enough to be your daughter ~ you choosing Debi over me, even telling people, “Debi was your good daughter you never had.” How would you know? You only came around when I begged you to but even that didn’t happen when I needed you most. I needed you there for me when Royce died. I needed you to say to me things would be okay, I needed you to say you loved me and you were sorry I was hurting so bad. But no, one more time you turned away from me, pushed me aside for who knows why or for whom.

Lord can you see now why it’s hard to call you Abba Father, why having and wanting a Daddy to love me was so important? Lord can you really see how much my Daddy hurt me and why it’s so hard to call you Abba Father, Daddy? Can you really see and understand? I have such a hard time believing you truly know and understand the pain I feel.

The pain of not being wanted, the pain of being pushed away for someone else or something (the nearest bottle of booze or a woman you would try to say was my new mommy?

Lord I just want to scream at you but fear if I do how much more trouble will I be in? I want to scream for Ali “why couldn’t I have a Daddy who love me, who played with me, who would sing and push me on a swing?

Lord can you answer these questions? I don’t think so. Now I hear “look at how your past made you who you are today.” Someone who wants to love and care for the little ones, be there to show and express how much you love them. I don’t want to hear how the past has formed me. I and want a Daddy to pick me up and swing me in the air, laugh with me and do things that make me laugh. I want a daddy to be here for me when I fall and scrape my knee or when others hurt me by their words or actions.

Lord I know my wishes for a daddy to love and care for me will never come true. Maybe that’s why I seek it so much ~ that love and acceptance from men in my life even though they won’t ever be my daddy either. There is Tom, even today, I sometimes wish I could share the good things in my life, the good things about my children. I still seek him out Lord, sending him cards and announcements to his PO Box in Maple Valley, never knowing if he really gets them or even if he even remembers me. And with Charles. Even today Lord I am still trying to get him to be a dad for me. It is so hard to see him with his girls, the joy that springs up on his face when he talks with them on the phone ~ I so want that! I want a hug in celebration; I want a hug or a kiss on the top of my head signifying he sees that I’ve done a good job. But even those things can’t or won’t happen. I see him give hugs to others and yet when I try to hug him for one reason or another, usually when I need to know everything is okay or going to be okay, all I get is a sideways hug or he’ll lean his shoulder toward me. Why is it so hard to get a dad to love and hug me, to show he really does love and care for me.

Lord I feel I could go on and on with more examples of how I was treated by my biological dad and also expressing how and what I need to have happen so I know that just one Daddy cares for me, loving me for just who I am and not what I can give him (sex, being the slave, something he can toss away when I am not needed and pull me back into the picture when he sees fit.

Lord what good does it do to keep talking about all the things I didn’t have, all the things I wanted and believed I needed? Can you even answer these questions? How do I allow the hurts of my past to affect my world today: coveting what others have ~ a loving dad who is there for them 150% of the time, how my actions of today just lead to more problems for me: difficult relationships with pain causing outcomes.

Lord as I said before what does going over and over the past really do ~ it really only causes problems in today’s world. Lord how do I move forward, stop wishing and wanting for things that will never happen?

Lord I don’t have the answers. I don’t think anyone has answers to these questions and the many others that come up for me as I think about all the hurts and disappointments from when I was not only a little girl but clear into my adult life. When I struggle with feeling unloved, not good enough, a bother ~~~ the list goes on and on.

But Lord I do know one thing I can continually do and is what Norma said “just go and do it.” Trusting that if the turn I take is the wrong one, that you, Lord will facilitate it, one way or another so that I stay on the path you want me on.

Just trusting You! Believing that all you want for me is good and mighty things! To just hang on with faith no larger than a mustard seed, to trust you are and will always be with me no matter what I am doing!

To recognize how you are already doing these things in my life: giving me a husband who loves me unconditionally! You have given me positive relationships with my sons and surrounded me with people who truly care about me. Amen