Jsack's Mom's Blog

Welcome to my blog where I share my special needs parenting journey with my heart, truth, and love, one story at a time. ❤️

Ode to my Mom

Elizabeth Louise was her name.
Loved by everyone who knew her.
Intrinsically gifted with humour and the gift of gab.
Zealous with her love, honesty, and faith.
Amazing with her glowing light of virtue and trust.
Beautiful beyond measure inside and out.
Eloquently soft spoken with a sharp wit.
Talented, gifted, devoted to the ones she loved.
Heart of gold, my best friend, and heroine of my dreams.

This is a poem for my beloved Mama. She was my gift, to my siblings, and the world. Today I wrote this poem for her as part of my Day 3 Blogging 201 assignment. The word trust was the prompt and in the acrostic form of poetry.

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Always

I will always worry, even when someone says don’t worry about it. I don’t know why I’m like this, is it the way I grew up, or do I get some kind of pay off in the end? Tough questions to ask myself for sure, but in the questioning comes the truth. I come from a long line of worriers. My beloved Mom, Gram, and her sisters were all worriers. Then they raised a next generation of worry warts. I remember when I was kid and I’d hear a family member say something like “I’m going to go visit my sister on Sunday, which is an ordinary conversation. Added with a prayer would be “yes if God spares me, that is. ” There was nothing ordinary about that, I would question “why wouldn’t God spare you, he loves you!” It was a confusing time because then I would worry if that loved one was going to die! Then I would spend my time worrying and praying instead of playing and just being a kid. There’s no wonder I grew up with anxiety, I don’t blame anything or anyone for it. It was a generation of worriers raised by another older generation of the same. Growing up as empathic child was a double edged sword. I could always feel so much love by absorbing the energy around me. Than the alternative was fear, worry, and hate, and emotions so ugly they would wake me up screaming at night. My beloved Mama and my Gram would always protect me from myself. There was lots of prayers, love, and secrecy. As I told them about my dreams, aura colors, and energy I picked up around me. They were my precious protectors and really made me feel safe, even if all I was feeling was uncomfortable. So I question myself endlessly am I the product of my environment or blessed with spiritual gifts? I could let these deep thoughts and emotions overtake me and send me into a swirling vortex and suck me in. Yet I fight against them and just give them a moment of time in my head, and then move on. I owe it to my family to not always feel fear and worry. I don’t want to raise my sons to be afraid of life and all the wonderful things in it. I always have to fight and be vigilant to not let the demons of worry enslave me. I learned a lot from my previous generations of wise elders. I need to have my faith in God, the love of my family, and the believe in myself that I can rise above whatever my fretful mind can worry about. I owe to my family to at least try….

This has been my Sunday confession for Ash at http://morethancheeseandbeer.com. Check out her blog and all the awesome talent that link up. Smooches. 😘

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