Let’s have a cup of tea and talk for a while.
I know you’re confused, embarrassed, and ashamed about what happened with this boy.
Let’s have a cup of tea and talk for a while.
I know you’re confused, embarrassed, and ashamed about what happened with this boy.
This is my writing process for transforming painful memories into poems.
I go to my journals and immerse myself in those feelings. Then I pull out a photo from that time period.
If you are an adult child of divorce, I know how deeply your heart has been torn. Even if your parents divorced decades ago, you still have scars that sometimes hurt. I have learned how to repair my heart with God’s help, and I want to give you hope through my story.
In my search for a “real” family, God provided three kinds of healing, while I was growing up and even today. Here are my findings:
As a high school freshman, I sat in the school counselor’s office, counting numbers backward. To test my aptitude, he told me a series of random numbers (36, 71, 42, and so on) and asked me to recite them backward. I got a perfect score every time. I didn’t understand why he was so impressed—my memory has always been strong.
A powerful recall runs in my family. My great-grandmother touched my curly hair and ruminated. When she lost her hair to diphtheria as a young girl, she felt devastated. But when it grew back curly, she felt joyful. I learned from her that visual cues and feelings are keys to retrieving memories.