Thinking of you

AN ANGEL DANCED

Somewhere in a city, there is a house and in that house…. an angel danced. Soft folds of ivory chiffon flowed as she moved across the room in step with grace; her hair fell softly over her shoulders; her face a vision of peace as the women looked on. The evening was beautiful; it was the Christmas season and the city surrounding the house was alive with excitement! But it was what happened in that house; the story I witnessed through my heart that will touch me forever.

The lights were dimmed and quietness filled the room. Moments later, background music of “Mary Don't You Know" from "The Nativity” played into our ears as the angel danced; we watched her make the Sign of the Cross in perfect timing. Dining tables were situated throughout the room; a table filled with pastries, cakes and dainties decorated a table near. Coffee was served to those who wished it and a select variety of teas were offered. Hot steaming water was poured into elegant tea pots which had been used to entertain many generations before us; the bone china tea cups and saucers were decorated with red, pink, and yellow roses as well as other beautiful flowers.

A murmur passed through the group; the tea cups and pots were used to entertain generations up to one hundred years before; left behind for a loved one to enjoy rather than be placed in a cupboard for all to look at. As the Angel finished her dance, she gracefully bowed to the women who watched, and applause broke the silence for many moments to come.

A Church group then sang carols and from deep within our hearts, we sang along with them, grasping at the happy moments sprinkled among us. We drank our tea; we drank our coffee and time passed. We ate our dainties and each bite was savored. A beautiful harp stood near; decals of angels decorated the magnificence of the carved wood piece. I had noticed one of the beautiful woman who had sung with the church group walk over to the harp and position herself on her chair before the music rippled from the movement of her fingers across the strings…. and she began to play.

It was the first time in my life I had even seen a harp or been in the midst of one being played. Again, silence overcame the room as the beauty of the music filled and surrounded each of us. Amazing Grace and other special notes moved from the strings of that harp and touched each one of us. As the evening progressed, conversation erupted and laughter could be heard as sounds of the harp continued to fill the room in the background. God had to have been present there that night. He couldn’t have missed an evening such as this; he wouldn’t have wanted to!

Now let me tell you the story once more, but this time, let me tell you the rest of the story…..

I was one of the lucky ones; I had nice clothes which I had been able to take with me when I left the abuse. I was later able to go into the house alone and retrieve clothes, some Christmas gifts and birthday gifts I had bought for family members months before as well as my jewelry and necessary personal bath items. In the late hours of one evening, when the house was to be empty, I entered alone the house which held the memories of my life. I walked quickly up the stairs to the kitchen and in panic, hurried from one room to the other. I felt cold; I felt no warmth from the home I had built in the many years behind me. I could not think of what items were most important to me. Numbness overcame me as if I was going through the motions in a dream. I could not allow myself to feel the despair; I could only allow myself to fear the fear.

This was the home I left a month before. As I went from room to room, I quickly gathered only those items I could quickly grab; I went through the motions of throwing clothes into Rubbermaid bins. I drug them to the top of the stairs and then stair by stair, I pulled the bins down. It was while I was in my basement office; after throwing the gifts which were the last of my items into the bins that I allowed myself to weep! I could not pack the bins to the top of the stairs! I felt alone; I felt the pain and despair and a desperate plea erupted from my throat and burst out from my soul, “God, help me!” I took stair by stair; fearful the door would open; fearful my past would become my reality once more! It seemed like forever but the moment finally came when I stood at the top stair of the bottom steps. I had blocked myself in; 3 bins between me and the door! The weeping became more intense; the despair unyielding.

I was able to step and crawl over the bins and wedge myself near the door. With strength I did not know I had, I moved each item and piled them up. I packed one piece at a time to the little car I had borrowed, now sitting in the driveway. I realize as I write this that although each of the bins was heavy, it was my burden of abuse that weighed me down!

When I had placed the last item in the little car, I went back to the doorway one more time and said good bye; I closed the door one more time and allowed the river of feelings to overcome me. I had not wanted this; I had unknowingly minimized my life and I had lived it in that minimization to keep the foundation of my family together…. Until the moment I could not make one more step in that life’s journey without dying inside forever.

I opened the car door and got in; what I needed to live for the next few months in the seat beside and behind me. As I drove away, I turned my cell phone off! That had been my link to help if I needed it and for that moment in time, I needed to be alone to bear my grief; to accept that although I felt for so many years that “it would get better”, the price was too high…..Besides, who would believe my story anyway; who would believe that I had lived a life being abused by the power of a fist and the grip of two hands!

Somehow, in my heart, I knew that I may lose my Step Children and my Grandchildren I had been given as a gift from them. I would lose friends and I would lose an entire side of a family who would never understand! I would lose a home I had built in which my Grandchildren from my Son and my Grandchildren from my Step Children played and laughed and romped and played together. I would lose my Family as I had built it; I would grieve the loss of Me in my world as I knew it. I faced family and friends not believing me; after all, on the outside, I looked happy; He couldn’t do this… And if he couldn’t do this….. then this must all be a lie! I had the fear of not being believed; I had the fear of never being able to be strong within myself within this truth.

Perhaps now when you hear someone’s voice of abuse and are tempted to ask the question, “Why did you wait so long?” you will voice it silently to yourself because you will already have been given the answer.

I drove down the road, my few possessions by my side and in that time, I heard in the intense silence surrounding me, the uncontrollable, desperate pleading grief that took form in crying from my soul! As I drove further, heading to where I had temporarily made a home, living out of a suitcase (I was to do so for nearly 3 months), I pulled into a Tim Horton’s. When life in the past was unbearable, I would often head out for the short drive to Tim Horton’s for a “coffee to go “ and it would be in that time when I would realize that I had no where to go with my truth and I would once again turn around and head back “home”!

I knew that regardless what the person at the drive through thought, I didn’t have to explain that this time, I had somewhere to go! I sat there in silence, drinking my coffee. I sat there in my aloneness with my possessions and told myself, “I am proud of you! You did this alone! This is only one more step toward truth and you may have to be strong and face criticism and lies, but you did it!” I had made the final step in the leaving process; it normally takes a woman on the average of seven times before she has the strength to stay gone!

And so the days came and went and through the help of a women’s shelter, I was able to accept my truths; I was able to painfully face the loss of family; I was able to educate myself on abuse and the effects of it and I was able to start a journey in a new life; a scary journey away from what I had known to be “my life” into a new day of just taking one step at a time!

And it was on that evening, in the dim room, that I saw an Angel dance. I saw women around me who would not have family for Christmas; I saw women who had been battered and bruised. I saw children running and playing in their new home, not knowing that they were safe; not knowing that perhaps their Mothers would chose never to tell the story of that time in their lives. They jumped and played with each other; they laughed from their hearts; they would never know their Mother’s burden carried within.

There were old dining room tables placed to the side of the room; some with mismatched chairs. The women who had come for the evening appeared in their best; some of their best having come from the Salvation Army! But we were served tea by a group of Church Women…. In beautiful china teacups and we were waited on. I felt humility; as if I should be waiting on them; as if the tea cups were too priceless for me to risk breaking one….

And I realized that night, one thing I will never allow myself to forget….. I may have lost much of my world and the pain in my heart would never ever go away but I had truly seen an Angel dance! And I was so proud to be one of the women who shared those moments in time and I was very privileged to share their unspoken pain during those brief hours with them. And yes….God had to have been present there that night. He couldn’t have missed an evening such as this; he wouldn’t have wanted to!

M. MacPherson

Back to In Gods Hands

Guestbook