Creschendo plays for you..."Do You Hear What I Hear".
This very special Christmas present was sent to me by a member of the multiples' newsgroup we belong to. We share it with you because it means so much to us. You see, we just joined the group and we have been accepted like we belong. This means so much to us at this time of the year.
To be isolated from those you love because you have disclosed your past and confronted your abusers is a terrible thing to have to bear at any time, but especially at Christmas. I ask that if you know someone who is a survivor, take a few extra minutes this year and let them know you care and support them. Merry Christmas.
Long ago a young woman who could have been stoned to death for having a child out of wedlock chose to bear that child. The name of the child was Jesus. He has become my friend and brother. His mother has become mine. And, His brother, St. Jude Thaddeus has become my guide and protector.
I am a confirmed Christian Catholic. My father, a Baptist minister, preached that Catholics were going to Hell because they worshipped idols and told a human their sins for forgiveness. That just showed his ignorance about the Catholic faith.
During my CCD classes and self-reflections I took over a period of several years in order to join the Catholic religion, I received several Holy revelations. Some of my friends and colleagues did not understand my choice or my faith until I explained them in these simple terms.
If you can remember to some point in time when you needed someone's help to persuade someone to do something, or were afraid to ask someone for something, or jsut wanted a friend along for moral support, you can understand why Catholics pray to the Saints. The Saints and priests help you when you need it much the same as your siblings, friends, and favorite aunts and/or uncles. I have found many things in the Catholic faith that follow the Holy Bible much more closely than in other faiths. Things like "this is my body" not "this symbolizes my body". Peter was the head of the Church and is the ancestor of the Pope. The Blessed Virgin was made Peter's mother and therefore the Mother of the Church.
As an adult though, I have the right to make up my own mind and follow my own heart. I ask that you join me in permitting others to do the same and help end religious persecution and descrimination, especially at this time of year that commenorates the birth of our Lord, Jesus Christ.
Some people may not feel the following poem should be on this page because Christmas should be a time of joy and happiness. It is true. It should be. But many people face life changing decisions every day, even Christmas Day.
As a survivor I treasure the sanctity and dignity of life. The following poem may trigger strong emotions in you. Please be safe while you read it. It was written by Corey, a 17 year old young man who is a friend of my youngest son. I am honored to have been called his "second mom".
My son and I met Corey at our prayer meeting in the town where we used to live. This prayer meeting was established by a group of evangelistic teens called "The Servant Squad". I fully believe it is watched over by a Guardian Angel named Jenny. Jenny, a 16 year old member of the team, was killed by a drunk drive on the way back from a retreat the team had held. Several new priests, Eagle Scouts, and active and faithful young Catholics came out of that prayer group. Who says that Christianity is dead or that teens only make trouble? NOT me.
Hello Mommy. I Love you.
Won't You Please Love Me and Let Me Live!Goodbye Mommy
Mommy, don't, Mommy please;that salty solution
is eating my knees.
You said last week,
you had nothing to give;
but all I want
is the chance to live.
It hurts Mommy, Mommy please heed;
Oh Mommy, oh Mommy,
I'm starting to bleed.
I won't be bad, I promise you;
Mommy, stop please,
Mommy, I love you.
I'm hurting all over
and dying so slow;
and the worst part about it
is knowing you know.
Why don't you help me,
why don't you care;
I really don't think
that you being that fair.
Pro-Choice is such Bull,
for I have no say;
I just hope you realize
what you threw away.
Mommy, I'm going
and it's all turning black;
that salty solution
just ate my back.
No matter what,
I know that I'm through;
But Mommy, Oh Mommy,
I still love you!
Goodbye Mommy.
©1996 Corey James Quebedeaux
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