my safe place

I write this blog to let out my inner thoughts when I don’t know how to or whenever I cant speak the words I want to say but I have recently experienced a situation that I have always known is something that happens on a daily basis, but just not in my world. When I log on to write I usually have a sense of the words I want to write but with this I don’t even know how to begin. It has been two weeks since it has happened and my mind is still replaying that day over and over again. It is on constant replay. I cant even bring myself to say let alone write the words that happen. It happened to my mom. With that being said let me give you a background into my moms character. She is the woman who picks up homeless people knowing the evil in this world. She still does it. She will stay in contact with them bring them food especially on the holidays. She is one of the reasons why I have a positive attitude towards life and have the faith that I do. She gives her last to her four kids and even to a complete stranger. She hugs everyone and everyone is sweetie. She is the definition of a southern belle. She goes over and beyond for anyone and everyone. People call her for advice or for help. She has such a strong heart that people that barely know her feel comfortable enough to call her talk for hours ask for help and pray with her. She is a blessing in all aspects. She is someone that I have seen conquer all mountains that are in her path with a smile on her face. God has thrown curve balls at her many times to test her strength and each time its without fail that even if she doesn’t succeeded the first or second time; she will keep on fighting until she is on the other side. I have never seen my mom so broken, so scared, just not full of life as she always is. When I woke up that morning I knew something was wrong. The light in her eyes wasn’t burning as bright. I could feel that something terrible had happened. When I asked her; her response was ” Nothing is wrong babygirl. Momma is just tired. ” I knew that it had to be horrible for her to lie to me knowing I know her like the back of my hand. That morning she came and attempted to wake me up a few times but I just rolled over. She asked me not to go into work so I could stay with her but I went in. I thought that maybe she was just tired. When I got home I thought I would take my niece to the store so she could sleep some. That night when I got home I went straight to bed. That’s when my dad woke me up balling his eyes out and told me what had happened.Instantly I was in tears. I ran to her and just held her. She didn’t deserve what happened. She didn’t deserve to be robbed of her security. She is the most safe person I know. My dad had just left for work that morning and she usually comes back to bed locks the door and just stays inside until I am awake. She didn’t that morning. She went outside to grab something out of the car when he came from behind. What was I doing while this horrible event was happening? Asleep. Peacefully in bed. My four year old niece just two bed rooms away. The front door was wide open. I keep replaying the what ifs. I know its not ever a good thing because we cant go back and fix them. I am usually the first to say that if I could go back and change anything that I wouldn’t change a thing but if you were to ask me now. I wouldn’t hesitate to change that experience. I cant. So now I am left with the what ifs. What if I were to of woken up and noticed the door was open and stopped him? What if he would have killed her and he came inside to my niece and myself? What if I was outside with her and he just stayed away? What if I would have woken up and my mom just be gone and the front door open? What if I called 911 and held him there with my gun pointed him and the police arrived and took him away? What if I could have been awake and kept her from just going outside? What if I would have woken up or stayed home that maybe she wouldn’t have waited an entire day to tell us anything? What if after what if after what if. We have lived here for 25 years. Even though it was out of my moms character to be outside no one can blame her for feeling safe in a neighborhood that she has spent most of her life. I cant blame myself and I don’t because if I was meant to wake up God would’ve woken me up. It happened and I am a firm believer in everything happens for a reason but why did this have to happen? Especially to a person like my mom. I cant sleep through the nights anymore. I toss and turn replaying it. People say that people that do crimes like that typically come back to the scene so what if I am sleeping and he comes back. I cant and wont let that happen again. I will say I am and will continue to wear that on my shoulders. God lets everything happen for a reason and during that time he proved it to be true once again. We saved a newborn puppy from being killed about a year ago. He is a little dog. Not no killer for sure. He sleeps inside every night. That little puppy had the wrath of God in him that morning when he heard my mom screaming. He ran outside and started attacking him. Which led to him getting frustrated and running away. A little dog that’s probably not even 15 pounds not only saved my moms life but in cruel honest reality saved my nieces life along with my own. A year ago we thought he ran into our yard so we could save him but in reality God sent him to us because he knew what satan was planning two weeks ago. Its been two weeks and day by day I see the light in my moms eyes come back. Slowly but surely. We are all afraid. We don’t go outside unless we have our guns on us and without another person. After dark none of venture outside. Every man we see that usually we would give a friendly wave to maybe even a smile; now is someone that it could have been. It was my mom that it happened to and I feel like I am more scared than anyone else. The mornings before it happened I had been leaving for work at the same time it happened. On routine. The houses behind us had said that they noticed in the past few days maybe a week a man wondering the woods around the houses and the streets. We found a spot in the woods behind our house that looked like someone had tore down branches and had a few drinks. A place that he could see us but we couldn’t see him. The cops had said that since I had been leaving that time daily the past week that it could have been that he was waiting for me but mom went outside first. He knew who’s cars belonged to who to know who was home and who had left. He knew the times that people left the house. He knew that I was home with my mom. Frankly, he didn’t find me a threat to his plan. I hate that. Maybe he was waiting for dad to leave so he could come inside and God sent mom out so that wouldn’t have  happened because he knew he was sending our dog to save her. I will never know the reasons or the answers to my what ifs until I meet the man upstairs one day. I just know that I am grateful more than anything that none of us meet him that day and we still have one another to lean on for support. I feel thankful but I feel scared. No, I am scared. I feel like he knew who, what, when, how he was going to do it because he had been watching us. And we didn’t even know it. I feel like a target. I feel belittled. I feel like my safe place isn’t safe anymore. Which it isn’t. At least not in my eyes. I wake up check my gun, unload it, load it, check my windows, lock my doors, on repeat. We haven’t left my mom alone since it has happened. Someone is always here with her. That includes me. When everyone else has work and I don’t I am here. I feel like a joke because I am more scared than she is. A person walking by is automatically a danger. I keep my gun next to me. I find myself acting brave around my mom and it kills me because she is who I run to when I am scared. Now its supposed to be the other way around and she keeps asking me to be strong. I smile and say of course mom. When I am praying the entire time for God to keep danger away. I myself have found myself gaining my courage back day by day but in reality I am still scared beyond belief. I want him caught and taken away. I want to move. Even though what happened happens everywhere, everyday. I still want to move. I want to sell the car get a new one and run basically. I wasn’t raised that way. I was raised to be fearless. I usually would tell you all that I am. I don’t blink to danger. I know God is with me within me and is watching me. Whom shall I fear if I have the power of God by me but satan has tricks to get into peoples live when we wont let him in ourselves. He uses other people to do his dirty work. Before i walked fearless, before that “man” steal my peace of mind. He stole my safe place. He stole my moms safe place. He stole our ability to find the positive in all and walk without fear. I hate it. I hate that day. I hate not waking up for her. I hate not feeling safe. I hate that he is out walking around. I hate that it happens everyday. I hate him.

I just want my mom to have the light back in her eyes. I want our safe place to be safe.

When it happened I saw a side of me that wanted to hurt a man and to make him suffer. Now I find myself praying that for the same man that stole my safe place. I pray for my family above anything for comfort and peace and strength. I pray for that man to find the grace of our God and to change his ways so he doesn’t hurt any other. I pray that God works inside of him to turn himself in. I find myself praying that God has mercy on his soul the day they come face to face. I pray that I wont be the reason why they meet sooner than planned. I pray that Gods light shines through us even more.

I pray for all the girls in the world that have had this happen to them.

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