I've read recently that Robert Smith has writers block. Those of you who know me well, know that I consider him to be something of a god, and lord... if he's got issues... what hope is there for me?
I contend the condition doesn't exist, there is simply lack of inspiration....Find inspiration, and lo... no more writers block.
I am normally inspired by the slightest thing, but lately it seems that the magic is gone, and the inspiration I would normally find in every corner of my universe has been sucked into a vapid black hole.
I had dinner tonite at my Mom and Dad's with the babies... it was really nice... they're happy... except for they're not with us. It's not been a terribly long time that we've been separated (we were separated for longer when we moved up to Toronto), but contrary to that move (hopeful future) this one...... feels like a trip to the grave.
I've been contemplating since they've been gone (the babies) where it all went wrong, and I can't find a particular point. I couldn't even tell you it's wrong right now only that it appears to be. I know I'm doing what I must, I believe I'm doing what's best. Our family, despite having gone through hell together, are COMING together at this time, which is a positive thing. When people band together for a common purpose, for the good of all... that's a good thing no?
When my mom asked me to write a note for them indicating their guardianship of the children....it felt like a blow to my stomach. I no longer have guardianship of my children. Christ... I feel like such a complete failure. He blessed me with these babies.... And I am powerless to guard them right now. Although they are in the best hands........ I'm crying because I'm ashamed those hands are not mine. Funny how my humiliation was pondered all those months ago when we started all this. No one could have predicted how far this would go. Neither am I prepared to let it go on any further.
I know how terribly gauche it is in this day and age to refer to a book as old at The Bible in one's hour of need... but quite frankly.... I was raised on it, and in it there is truth. It is also the earliest historical reference we have.... not only in it's religious context. So, in contemplating the future tonite, I look to the past.
It has been a while since that blue book found it's way into my hands, at summer camp...21 years ago. It has followed me for some time, and I hadn't realized until I thumbed through it again tonite, looking for references.... there are an awful lot of notes in it. So many passages underlined, and circled.... and so many words of wisdom. It felt really good to thumb through those pages, and remember the things I forgot I knew. Although my sister will laugh, and probably remember... the first verse we ever had to learn off by heart... John 10:10... which we both can still recite (King James Version) without looking it up:
"The thief comes only for to steal, to kill, and to destroy... I am come that they may have life, and have it to the full"
My dad is terribly despaired... he is trying to cope with all of this as best he can, and following the traditions set down by his father before him... beckoning us to church. It is where he finds God, where his father found God.... and where he hopes he can lead us so that we too... may find God. His frustration that we will not follow (I find little benefit in attending mass, I prefer to find God in the street) adds to his despair.... he looks to us to give him hope. I hope to attend mass with him tomorrow morning, if nothing else... to offer up my thanks.
Thanks for what you may ask? Well, for my children of course!
Tonight Emma was terribly distraught as we left. As comfortable and happy as she is at Inga and Pappas.... She's not with Mommy and Daddy... where she belongs. She begged us to take her home with us to sleep.
She made me and her dad gifts of drawings before we left, and I am always fascinated by the drawings of children... especially my own. They reflect what they see, and their vision is always rather unique, even though their technique is rather primitive. Technique does not detract from the substance of a message... so I have come to learn.
One of Emma's favorite subjects to draw.. is me. She has drawn more pictures of me than I can count... usually with flaming red hair. All Emma had to draw with tonite was a black marker, so the trademark red hair was missing.
I did notice one detail in particular that has never appeared in one of Emma's portraits. In this picture... I am wearing a crown.
When I look in Emma's eyes, it frequently feels like I'm looking in my own. They are clear, large, and reveal everything in her heart..... especially when they are betrayed by her smile... particularly the ones she puts on her brave face when she is despaired.
I can't imagine her frustration, seeing what she sees........ living what she is living.
Then again... I can... I have just lost sight of it... because of what I'm living...
So, comfort found, I go to bed, and wish you all good night, and a tomorrow filled with delight.