Try, if you can, to step outside of your grown up skin and slip into the skin that you wore when you were a child. Pick an age - whichever age you remember feeling most vulnerable. Now, think of an adult that you trusted with your whole heart.Your mom, your dad, your aunt or uncle...? Now, instead of wrapping yourself in a warm and comfortable memory, let the room turn dark. let that vulnerability evolve into absolute helplessness. Let that trust disolve into a pool of fear and confusion. I'm certain you know where I am going with this....you can let that scene fade.
uncomfortable, wasn't it? Well, now picture trying to tell someone.
Every day, children all over the world face this horrifying blackness. Often, the children who find the courage and the words to tell, end up in a court room - facing the person who robbed them of an entire childhood. There is no comfort there, it is cold and empty and frightening. put yourself in that witness chair. Imagine a small sea of faces that you have never seen before watching you with wide eyes, waiting to gobble up every one of the words that finds it's way out of your throat, then chewing them a while before they decide whether to spit them out or not. And that one face, the face of the person who hurt you. Now tell them the most intimate, private, embarassing, shameful event that ever happened to you - and tell them in detail. The betrayal, the fear, the uncertainty.
Now...look back out into that sea of faces. Standing out from the rest, rough faces, tough faces, faces ontop of broad shoulders covered with leather and patches. bandanas wraped around their heads to tame wild hair that falls over shoulders sturdy enough to carry weight of this moment for you - and there isn't just one face or two, there's an island of them. An island in that sea of faces. Now imagine that they are there for you.
Those are the faces of BACA. Bikers Against Child Abuse. You know them because they came to your house and told you they would be there. They rode on their roaring stalions, an army of them, right up to your front door to tell you that you are in their family now, and that they protect their family without question or hesitation. They came to tell you that you can do this, and that they will be there to make sure that you don't feel alone and vulnerable any more.
now tell me....do you feel a little stronger, like maybe you can do this?
I would have.

Check it out: http://www.bacausa.com/

BACA has accepted 10 Copies of The Tablet of My Heart to distribute to the children that they "adopt".
Send them a thank you note, for their commitment to leaving a heavy boot in the A#@$ of child abusers! God love 'em.

Love, Elizabeth

Hey, Check out the library page at www.tabletofmyheart.net!!!!
I have an idea, we'll see how it pans out, follow me:
I want to lend out books. I have ten of them set aside. The idea is to get this message, the message that there is freedom from the dark shadows that are cast by abuse, into the hands and hearts of people who feel that they have reached the pit of their pain - and fear that there is no way out.
I'd like to see people leaving messages in the book, for others who borrow them to read. I'm hoping to see this get some attention and really reach right in to people's darkness. If all goes as well as I am hoping, maybe I could even add more books to the library - not just mine. Books that inspire and lead people to hope and healing. Any suggestions?? I'm incredibly open to ideas!
When you have a minute, read Proverbs 3:3

I want my job back!

From the dawn of time, mothers have had special relationships with their babies. Relationships that form foundations for self esteem, compassion, responsibility,…a long list of positives. Foundations that cannot be removed once they are placed, or replaced if they are lacking. Of course, fathers have and will always have an important role. Both parent’s roles are equally important, but today I want to talk about relationships between children and their mommies.
Moms take constant care of their children. They wake them in the morning. They feed them, often before they eat themselves. They bathe them and guide them through their day – wiping their boogers and their butts without flinching.
Moms quickly learn the difference between this scream and that holler, and whether one or the other means play, frustration or disaster. Of course, that knowledge comes only after countless leaps through the air in the heat of the moment, with a dish towel draped over one shoulder and a laundry basket attached to one hip, to run literally from one end of the house to other just to find that the high pitched squeal that sent her heart on a journey to visit her belly was simply that an older sibling looked at a toy that was clearly for the eyes of the two year old ONLY. Or, because that the little baby in the sun shine that floats above the make believe mountain on the teletubies, was rudely interrupted by a commercial.
But then, there are the days when those screams or squeals turn out to be something more serious. She dread those moments, they scare her more than anything. You’d never know that when you watch her in the middle of a crisis. She knows that she is the glue that holds her broken child together, and does not afford herself the option to fall apart. At least not until her children aren’t looking. On those days a mommy might end up putting pressure on a bleeding wound with the hem of her dress. The same dress that she likely spent 30 minutes on just the day before, removing a stain left by a previous accident. Her husband tells her, “just throw it out, I’ll buy you a new one.” But she will clean and repair the dress until it is nothing but a rag, because she wants to make sure that there is enough money in savings to buy the kids their school clothes at the end of summer vacation.
Let’s not forget the important ingredients that our children add to this relationship. I will never forget the moment in the grocery store when my eight year old son realized that a man in the store was checkin’ me out…..the audacity! He kept tugging on me saying, “Mom, that guy is looking at you.” I just kept shopping. Finally, he had reached the end of his patience. If I was not going to address this situation, he most certainly was! He pushed his young face in the direction of that unsuspecting man (who likely thought my child was harmless) and hollered “That’s My Mom!” Stunning everyone in the checkout lane into silence.
No…I didn’t look to see his reaction, but I am relatively certain that my son got his point across because he didn’t complain about that man looking at me anymore.
Still curling the ends of my mouth in to a smile, is the memory of the day that my 5 year old came to me and thoughtlessly told me to “open this, mommy.”
“Say please Mr. bossy pants!” I told him, only to be tickled by his response, “Please Mr. Mommy pants.”
And so, she (the mommy) carefully collects and stores all of these memories, from the ones where the rolls reverse and the child becomes the protective one, to the silly, to the sweet ones that fill her heart completely – like the first time her child said, “I love you” or “you’re so pretty mommy.”
The thing is, though memories of my little boys are framed in my heart…I miss my children. No they aren’t grown. They are still quite young – 7,9,10 and 13. But, while I am on my way to work in the morning, they are eating breakfast without me, each one helping the brother that is smaller than him to get his teeth brushed, socks and shoes on, coat on, and out to the bus on time. During my one hour commute home in the afternoon they are wrestling wits with each other, doing chores, and burying their nose in their homework (well, they are supposed to be) with out me and some days I find myself thinking….I want my job back. This day that I strive for, the day that I will be able to sustain income from my little dream machine in the basement so that I can have that wonderful job back, simply can’t come soon enough! Though I wish often, with all my heart that I could be at home with my children, it is simply not an option financially. So, for today I just want to say to moms who have found a way to bring in that necessary income from their own home offices, and have the sweet luxury of raising their own children…So blessed you are, and…KUDOS!...for what you have accomplished! It is no easy task.

PS.

April Hunt loves photography, and she is good at it! It is simply delightful, what she can do with a camera. She doesn’t have any fancy equipment or framed diplomas on her wall … but she has taken some of the most beautiful pictures of my children, and I plan to have her take sooo many more!
Rebecca is the mom that we can’t figure out how in the world she fits 40 hours of work into a 24hour day. Even in the midst of doing upholstery from her basement, trying to promote her husband’s new business, looking for additional income outside of the home, and volunteering on the homeowners association - She volunteered to coach her son’s basketball team this season when parks and rec told her that they did not have enough coaches. She has been doing upholstery since she was 15…yes, at 15 she got her first job which she did so well that people started asking about her…she is self taught.
Kristi is wrapped entirely in her love for her daughter, who has never even seen the inside of a daycare. Even during her daughter’s infancy (you remember how time consuming that was!) she has worked from her home office doing real-estate. She has just branched out in a new venture to provide all natural cleaners and wellness products to concerned families.
Now, after you have looked at this small but important list….look at it again. If you could benefit from any of the services that these wonderful ladies have to offer, please send an e-mail to the following address with a request for the information you are interested in. I will forward your requests directly to them. Let’s support our work from home moms, and the moms who want to be!
E-mail me: Information@tabletofmyheart.net