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FROM ABUSE TO HOPE
by Florene Dillingham

I couldn't admit that I was abused.
His terrible actions I always excused.

I was supposed to just be a wife,
A mere extension of his awful life.

I was to cook and clean and stay
At home and out of his way.

To only go out when he allowed,
To live under his very angry cloud.

To smile when he belittled me.
To pray and wish I could be free.

He pushed and hit and burned me, too,
And yet, what was I to do?

He said I was useless, ugly and old.
You finally believe what you are told.

I had no more hope it would seem.
My health was failing; no self-esteem.

So many years of depression and pain.
In private my tears fell like the rain.

Yet others could not see any sign.
They all thought I was doing fine.

When I escaped they were all amazed.
He told them i was depressed and crazed.

And so I lost my friends and my kin.
My pastor believed I was in sin.

So many will not not speak to me.
That makes me sad as I can be.

Mor scars are healing over every day.
My Lord always listens when I pray.

I pray for the ones I left behind.
I thank Him for allowing me to find

The kindest man I'll ever know...
My long-ago wonderful teenage beau.

He came back just to rescue me.
To give me a life that is and will be

A delight, all safe and full of care.
To love completely I finally dare.

Never forget that, as you cope,
There is healing...and there is hope!

I was in an abusive marriage for 22 years and now work
with the local police dept as a volunteer peer counselor
for abused women. I have a support group called Eagles' Wings.

Also, I have an on-line support group for abused women.
You might want to link to my site. It is called Angel of Hope's Abuse Help

http://mycomm.excite.com/mycomm/browse.asp?cid=77212

My childhood sweetheart and I have now been married for three years.
I finally have a life.

Thank you,
Florene

"Hands"

A good marriage is a lifetime of hands.
It's a shaking hand sliding a
shiny gold band onto the finger of another shaking hand.
It's an anxious hand tagging on a suddenly shy hand.
It's hands touching in sudden darkness,
or swinging together down a crowded
street, or fingers interlocking in the darkness of a theater.
It's expressive hands: the playful pat on the fanny,
the beckoning wave,
the rumpled hair, the "Help me please" gesture,
and sometimes but not
often, the clenched fist.
It's hurrying hands setting dinner for hungry hands.
It's angry hands pushing away angrier hands.
It's an optimistic hand patting a discouraged hand.
It's a panicky hand clutching a calm hand.
It's a proud hand introducing an embarrassed hand.
It's joyous hands grabbing happy hands -
and hands sharing sadness with a touch.
It's healthy hands holding sick hands.
It's hands joining in prayer.
And finally,
it's a shaking hand sliding a dull gold band
off the finger of
a very
still hand.

Hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed some of your poems. I keep
this poem in my wallet at all times.

From Linda ......... in Canada!!!!! Thank you dear friend !!!!

MY PERFECT CHILD

     As my children were born, I wanted them to be perfect.
When they were babies, I wanted them to smile
and be content playing with their toys. I
wanted them to be happy and to laugh continually
instead of crying and being demanding.
I wanted them to see the beautiful side of life.
     As they grew older,
I wanted them to be giving instead of selfish.
I wanted them to skip the terrible twos.
I wanted them to stay innocent forever.
     As they became teen-agers,
I wanted them to be obedient and not
rebellious, mannerly and not mouthy.
I wanted them to be full of love, gentle,
and kindhearted.
     "Oh, God, give me a child like this" was often my prayer.
One day he did.
Some call her handicapped....
I call her perfect!

Sent to me by a very good Friend .... Linda of Canada !!!!

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