No. I don’t want to go in a room and talk to yet another stranger who can’t even see

I’ve gone to counselors my whole life. Talked. Taken tests. And listened to them tell me when all I need is to tell my own Mama so we both can see together. And that seems strange?

I’d like some Mary hanging out at the foot of my cross to get it right? And we all know what’s what with the Mary’s of life? Treated like dogs and property. Whipped into shape shifters forced to be invisible. Thank god I was not named Mary. But I came straight from a long line of Mary’s. Mary Hobson Moreland, her daughter Margaret Moreland Halterman, to Linda Marie Halterman blah blah blah Brown.

Mary’s deserve better than this. My talk might look real cheap. But I’m just showing the price this descendent of Mary has paid. The price my Mama paid. And the price my family pays for leaving me in the closet. Even Marcia? Another Mary? All around me Mary’s? To confused. To programmed. And unable to do a god damn thing? Leaving me? The family dirty laundry out to dry up and blow the hell away.

I wish to speak to the queen I was sent to. Face to face. Not to argue? But if we do need to has it out? We do it together and we don’t back down until this supposed dirty laundry is clean! In our minds.

The professional is me. And I know what a child always needed. Her own Mamas love and attention. She’s still inside me crying for that woman. It does not matter how old I am. We all have a child within. I owe it to my own children to show them the power of a Mamas love and attention. So I am stabbing and banging on the heart of my own Mama. Trying to shock that girl back to life. Life that can be ours.

I am asking for a call. A call? She’s would never ever be as brave as me standing in the streets day after day calling her name. But she can dig down deep. Go back to the woman she was who created me and there find that woman and come and get me. Sounds strange? I’m adopted for god sakes of course it strange to those who have never tasted that bitter fruit.

How. Can anyone understand anyone without a story? The knowing of how a person get into what they get into. I help countless people. Just the other day. The gardener came. He, troubles with his own daughter, I encouraged to not give up. I told him, ” she’s watching you, wanting to see you try, and your other kids are watching, and learning, “what’s daddy gonna do to me if I fall?” I told him those are your seeds and they must be watered. Don’t expect them to just spring up instantly. It takes time. And consistent efforts to reap the harvest he wants to see. Just text her. Don’t expect her to respond. And keep doing it and don’t give up on her because half of her is you.

The the other gardener who’s got like 5 kids showed up so I encouraged him. Like little mini sermons of encouragements to men. I never got to do that for my own Daddy, but it makes me feel better to help them by using my hard earned wisdom at the other end of the stick. When you find your own daddy and see him so broken and humble. And you give him all the love you’ve got to make him see you’ll do better. I know he’s with me even though his body is gone. He lives in every fiber of my being mixed all up with Mama. They are a great pair of lovers under my covers of skin.

And yes I’m angry. Look at this mess! And my Mama is the only one I seek to help me address it. The only one I need now mire than ever. And I’m asking. Seeking. And knocking all the wall down to get to her. You would do the same if you’ve walk a mile in my shoes. So I must get all the garbage out so she can see what the hell to do. She is my muse. And without her I’m sick as sick can be. Sick. And tired of living without her understand nature that I know is she.

Virgos are nurturers by nature. Virgos are methodical. Excuse me for using astrology? How does a woman even find the words she’s never been able to speak? I’m grasping at all gods showing me to speak up. Ask. Seek. Knock so I can find? I’m not reading scriptures. I’m using them like god tells us to do.

So don’t tell me to go get help anymore. I know exactly who’s help I’ve need for 57 years trapped in a relationship, trapped in a transplant that just did not take up in my own heart because Linda is in that place and there is no room in my Inn for an impostor.

How does one recover? What they lost at birth when the one they lost still is alive and well? She’s not dead or I’d be talking to a grave right now and not here. Secrets are always found out for a reason. Secrets keep us from the lessons we all must learn about lies and deceptions.

God damn this!! I am one hell of an exception to Adoptions rules of no contact, for god lead me like a sheep yo a slaughter back to the woman I came from not to die but so we both could heal this and live and prosper.

How do you tell your own Mama so proud that each day you’ve long for her care. How? You just got to go there. That’s all. And some stranger called counselor won’t do it at all. They just listen while you keep on spinning around and take your money.

I’ll ask again, “mama? When will you be ready? At deaths door?” ” is this all you’ve got? Have you lost your fight for God? Why read a scripture and close a book and go one like same old same old and think that that’s god?” My god.

I wanna wake up in the mornings and drink coffee with her. I wanna do art and be creative with her by my side. I wanna see that light return to her eyes watching the daughter she gave away by her side? I wanna watch the sunsets and see those mountains and laugh with her as we remember this climb knowing god was our savor the whole time poking us back together with his divine needlings. Like stitching in time.

  • Neither of us will receive our blessing if we don’t get this one right. Cuz god brought us together and we are tethered. Let us not put asunder what god joined together inside of Linda. Let us get this right. The time is worth spending on mending our hearts.
  • David himself the king anointed fought. Trained. And won. David. A man after gods own heart I follow his son bares his name.
  • Let us avoid destruction by following gods instructions. The great counselor counsels me and I in turn share it with my Mama.
  • Psalm 1

    Blessed is the one<sup class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-13941A" data-link="(A)” style=”font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; vertical-align: top”>
        who does not walk<sup class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-13941B" data-link="(
    B)” style=”font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; vertical-align: top”> in step with the wicked<sup class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-13941C" data-link="(C)” style=”font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; vertical-align: top”>
    or stand in the way<sup class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-13941D" data-link="(
    D)” style=”font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; vertical-align: top”> that sinners take<sup class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-13941E" data-link="(E)” style=”font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; vertical-align: top”>
        or sit<sup class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-13941F" data-link="(
    F)” style=”font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; vertical-align: top”> in the company of mockers,<sup class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-13941G" data-link="(G)” style=”font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; vertical-align: top”>
    but whose delight<sup class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-13942H" data-link="(
    H)” style=”font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; vertical-align: top”> is in the law of the Lord,<sup class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-13942I" data-link="(I)” style=”font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; vertical-align: top”>
        and who meditates<sup class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-13942J" data-link="(
    J)” style=”font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; vertical-align: top”> on his law day and night.
    That person is like a tree<sup class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-13943K" data-link="(
    K)” style=”font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; vertical-align: top”> planted by streams<sup class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-13943L" data-link="(L)” style=”font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; vertical-align: top”>of water,<sup class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-13943M" data-link="(M)” style=”font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; vertical-align: top”>
        which yields its fruit<sup class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-13943N" data-link="(
    N)” style=”font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; vertical-align: top”> in season
    and whose leaf<sup class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-13943O" data-link="(
    O)” style=”font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; vertical-align: top”> does not wither—
        whatever they do prospers.<sup class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-13943P" data-link="(
    P)” style=”font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; vertical-align: top”>

  • God watches over us both as I hash it all out here. Why would I waver if not for the lack of my own mother.
  • This? Is just a cog in the wheel of our life story. We just got to fix it. End of story.
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