Monday, January 12, 2015

The Boat in the Storm

The above picture reminds me of my siblings and my life when we lived with my dad. He was the storm and the rest of us were huddled at the bottom of the boat pleading for mercy. I will never forget the time my older sister and I came together.

She and I butted heads when we lived with my dad. She was at the time considered the chosen one. She got her own bedroom at the back of the apartment and she was allowed to be in there with the door closed. She didn't need to cook or clean. She was the oldest. She was kind and compassionate and would never dream of arguing with an adult. She had her own demons to wrestle with. Imagine being the rescuer of your family from a fire but not everyone got out. I think that is called survivors guilt. It was hard living with our dad and she was tucked away in that room safe and sound. To this day she has no clue why our dad picked her out to be free from abuse. I am so thankful she was spared.

Saturdays was the day we dreaded most for those years with our dad. He decided we would clean the house from the top to bottom. He would yell, he would scream, he would swear, he would punch, and shove if the work was not done perfectly. For some reason I ended up being the duster. He would take his finger and inspect everything. If he found a speck of dust out would come the abuse. It was on one of these Saturday's when my older sister and I went out into the backyard. It had been a very bad day. I can remember exactly where we were both standing and we made a pact that day. "If the family was going to stay together it would be up to her and I" I think we shook on it and never fought again. Even to this day we have never had words. Our family was at stake and we had to find a way to work together.

I have a hard time understanding when adult siblings fuss. I am so blessed. We could have blamed each other and imploded but thankfully something inside of us made us realize we had to work together.

Four of us came out of the fire. It is a great metaphor for our lives. The anchor holds in the storm. That is one of my favorite songs, the anchor holds. One by one we would each find God and make him Lord of our lives.

Tomorrow I went to tell you about my brother, I even have a picture. :) If you are struggling with your siblings, as much as it depends on you make peace. Life is way too short.

Many blessings



Be the kind of woman that when your feet hit the ground each morning Satan says, "Oh crud, she's up".

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