I'm Someone Too

The other day, I was out having lunch with a friend. We went to McDonald's and as much as I had fun, there were a few ladies who sat down a couple tables from us. Two of them had mental disabilities and one of them was in a wheelchair. I looked at her often, my heart breaking and understanding her world each time I did. For the rest of the day, the picture of her not being able to feed herself, not being able to have a conversation with anyone with words, never left my mind or heart.

That evening, as it was too cold to sit at my computer, I went to bed. Upon doing so, I got a pad of paper and a pen and I started to write. Very rarely do I write anything on paper, but only because I type as fast as my mind can think it. So after writing it, I got on my phone and I emailed it to my writing teacher. She wrote back and called it a gem. She said she hoped I would bring it to class today, Friday. So I printed it out. I thought I would share it here. I have no idea who, if anyone, reads my blogs. So please enjoy and I hope you all have a wonderful and blessed Christmas.

I'm Someone Too

You live in a home. I live in a chair. You can take a shower. I get no privacy. You can make your own lunch, dinner and even breakfast. I rely on someone not forgetting to feed me. You drive to your job. I sit in my chair and I'm told where I'm going.

From the youngest I can remember, I have lived in a home I wasn't born in. I see my parents when it's convenient for them. My brother and sister talk to me when they visit, but when my head drops and my eyes close, they leave mad thinking I was bored of them. What they don't understand is that the control they have over their body, I lost before I was born.

Growing up where I wasn't wanted hurt me. No one knows because you see, I can't talk. I can't look you in the eye and talk to you. I'm called a freak because my only form of communication is yelling. And it's not my fault. No one cares when I cry because they figure I'm just tired. Between you and me, I cry for the person I will never be. But they are right too, I am tired of being looked at funny, being ignored or being told to move, them not realizing I can't.

I will never be like you. I hope you are never like me. Just please remember, all I want is to be treated like a person. I have feelings, they get hurt. You live in a home. I live in a chair. We may never see eye to eye, but we both have a heart giving us life. Don't destroy mine just because you think I'm worthless. I'm someone too.

© December 2012 Jen Teal

I Love You More

After the sadness that rocked the country of the mass taking of children, I sat down at my computer and let my heart cry....these are the words that came from my heart...

 I Love You More

This morning I walked into your room to see your little body lying under your favorite Batman blanket. I sit down on your bed and slowly pull the blanket away from your face. I kiss your cheek good morning before running my hand through your hair. I softly tell you it’s time to get up, it’s a school day. Stirring, you rub your eyes and smile up at me.

I help you pick out what you want to wear. Batman has always been your favorite. I tell you I’ll meet you downstairs and that your breakfast will be waiting. You say, “Okay mom.” Trampling down the stairs, you run into the kitchen and jump onto your chair. Time has gotten away from us so I urge you to eat fast. Before I know it, you’re at the sink with your cereal bowl. I tell you to grab your backpack, I’ll meet you in the car.

Driving up to your school, I see the line of parents waiting to drop your friends off. You tell me you’re a big boy now and that you can walk into school without me. I sigh and you reach over the console and give me a hug and kiss. You tell me you love me, I tell you I love you more.

Not even an hour later, my phone rings. It’s your school. I answer with a cheery hello, only to receive a tearful reply. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to tell you.” I urge her to go on as the boulder forms in my stomach. “There was…there was a…there was a gunman…” Panic. Fear. Anger. Sadness; everything I felt before I heard that children have been shot. I turn my car around and race back to your school. I slam on the brakes when I arrive and race inside. Without understanding why, a police officer stops me, he won’t allow me in. I scream at him, “MY CHILD IS INSIDE!!!” He calmly tells me I need to go to the fire station; that is where all the parents and kids are going for safety. Once again, I run to the car and drive as quickly so I can to find you waiting for me. I park the car and run inside to find parents and friends waiting for information, and police officers. I run to my friend and ask her what she knows.  All she can do is hug me and cry. I walk to the police officer who is close by and ask him about you. He tells me to wait, that there will be updated news soon.

It feels like time went in slow motion until the Police Chief walked in and asked us all to have a seat. He begins by telling us that a young man walked into the school and then a classroom and began shooting. When he says your teacher’s name, I drop to the ground, shaking, screaming, crying. The world goes silent as the sound of my shattering heart deafens me. As I open my eyes, I see a sea of shattered hearts.

My son, you are now gone. Some man who didn’t love anyone, came to your school and took you away from your daddy and me. Tonight, I won’t give you a bath or read you a story before bed. I won’t kiss you goodnight, or awake. I won’t be able to fix you your favorite breakfast, lunch or dinner. Daddy can’t play catch with you or play Batman and Robin. The Christmas tree we planned to get this weekend will no longer be ours. Because this man hated himself, our Christmases will never be the same.

You had such a giving heart, and I know what you would tell me to do. “Mommy, my presents…please give them to a little boy like me, so he can have a merry Christmas.” I just don’t know if I can do this. There is one I will forever keep; the photo Daddy took of you and me on your 6th birthday.

The day you were born, my dreams for you were strong and true. The day you died, those dreams shattered.

Rest in the arms of Jesus my son, knowing you will be forever missed. And please, never forget, I will always love you more.

© 12-15-12 JenT

Just my thoughts

In a short 24 days, I will wake up to my 18^th Christmas without my Grandma. I don’t remember very many Christmases with her, because my other grandma always took us away from her. There isn’t a day that goes by that my grandma isn’t in my thoughts. She was such a strong woman. She was a woman who loved God with everything she had. I’ve always felt sad because I know I’ve disappointed her. I don’t know if people in Heaven can look down and see us. And the reason I don’t know, is because the only feeling in Heaven is happiness. There are no tears in Heaven. There are days I think about when I die or Jesus comes back, and that’s the end. This life isn’t a book that we just close when we die and then open it again when we’re born and our parents take care of us. I look around my room and see all the memories I have surrounding me. Almost everything in here I could tell you who gave it to me and why. I have some very dear friends that I truly wish would find God and serve Him. My biggest concern is my brothers and their families. I was told in church today that God chose me to be a Believer. Boy have I let Him down.

But seriously, when we die, that’s it. There is no middle ground. You’re either in Heaven or hell. Both are real places. I guess the question I wish I could ask people, my friends, my family, if they know where they’re going when they die. I have a couple friends who joke about going to hell. I find it very difficult to laugh at that. Simply because I know it’s a real place and that unbelievers go there. I believe that God is a just God and a God of mercy. I truly wish I had a heart like my mom’s and my grandma’s. I wish I could care more about their life and where they’ll go, then my possible mess up in doing just that.

I’ve gone to the same church for nearly 30 years. I’ve been under my Pastor’s teaching for over half my life. I’ve had everything I struggle with taught to me. I know how to get out of this battle. And yet I feel as if my hands are still tied because of the lies that penetrate my thoughts day in and day out. I know that God has given me the gifts of writing, singing and photography. I know He has given me the gift for writing music. He proved that to me the night before Easter of 2011. The night before, Cary and I met at church and three notes kept coming to me. Close to six hours later, He Did It For One was born. The next day, it was performed. I have such a problem with how my songs that I write, always have the same chords and notes. But if that is what God wants me to do with writing songs, then that’s what I’ll keep doing.

Lately I have been feeling restless, but unable to grab the energy I need to do anything. The desire to teach children again is so heavy. The desire to keep writing and get published is so heavy. The desire to sing and change lives is so so heavy on my heart. The desire to photograph has fallen away from me. I looked at my friend’s photography page last night and that emptiness returned. With having so much debt over me, I can’t do what I want to do with photography.

It’s hard to believe that 2012 is almost over. I wonder how many couples are getting married on 12-12-12. Never again will we have that. This world is changing. Ever since watching Lincoln, I have a bit more respect for the President simply because he truly has the world on his shoulders. Lincoln had a pure heart to free the slaves from that time on. So many didn’t believe in him and his 13^th Amendment. He fought for it, he stayed his ground and fought for what he knew was right. Not many believed it would happen. And he never did anything for his own happiness. He knew that in order for freedom to be with the colored people, he had to help them out of their abusive pits. He didn’t care who was against him. He fought for them and he won. He never boasted about it. At the end of that movie, he’s sitting with Ulysses S. Grant and he tells Lincoln that he’s aged 10 years with all the happenings of the Amendment being fought for. He agreed.

I’m truly amazed that I haven’t aged faster with all the stress and hell I’ve endured for so long. I’m still thought to be in my 20s and I’m quite okay with that. In a short five months I’ll be 37. I am having a hard time grasping that scary fact.

With my thoughts on paper, I can probably go to bed now. Just a lot of thoughts that I needed out. I’m going to read now.