An Unexpected Gift-Life through Death

One January, my husband and I received a call that left my oldest daughter floundering, in a way she had never known before. One of her friends, who was also our pastor's youngest daughter was killed in a snowmobile accident. She was a friend of my 13 year old daughter.

My eyes still fill with tears at the memory...the pain and confusion I saw in my daughter's eyes as I told her about Annie. I had no words of comfort. All I could do was hold her and weep with her. I spent the entire night with her in my arms as my mind frantically searched for a way...to make it OK. I felt so helpless, frustrated and confused. All my heart could do was to echo her question, "why?"....

I never was able to find the spoken words but out of that pain came words. I was never one to write poetry but I was compelled to write. It was an unexpected gift that I felt God gave me that day. I released my pain about Annie's death in words only to discover it was to be a life line for me.

Poetry....the written word...it so gently and lovingly nudged its way into my life. It drew me in and compelled me to write, to look deep within myself to another child in tears asking "why?"

I'm In Need Of A Friend

A long deep sigh slips from my lips.
Shaking my head I try to clear the
heaviness that presses in.

Looking at the clock I have no idea
how long I have sat gazing in the
emptiness of this page.

All I know is the familiar sense
of being unremittingly alone.

loneleness....

My only comfort
My only friend
My only memory

I tremble,
as I hear whispers within.

Nudging from an unknown entity
deep inside.

And from somewhere deep within myself,
underneath where my loneleness dwells,
a tentative whisper reaches my inner ear.

“My name is ‘Happiness’ and I have lived
beneath your loneleness for all your life.
Please, hear my call. I'm in need of a friend.”

©BAR
8/2/98

Just another day

Over the years I so often felt as if I was stagnant when it came to my weight. I grasped at many life lines only to fail time and time again. I would lose a significant amount of weight only to gain it back along with more.

I married a wonderful man who has been there for me no matter what my weight has been. With the birth of three wonderful daughters and a job I loved my life fell into a comfortable rhythm.

Sleeping Innocence

Beside me you rest wrapped in innocence
Lips pursed, a rose bud waiting to flower
Your gold ringlets emit a child's incense
Cheeks glowing the cast of the sunset hour

My eyes close, I whisper a little prayer
Raven lashes flutter gently in sleep
Angels gather to watch from heaven's stair
Your breaths cadence becomes steady and deep

Dream weaver weave ethereal dreams tonight
A rich tapestry abundant with tales
Of fairies and whimsical elves, delight
As you travel along enchanted trails

Your face glistens with traces of love's dew
Celestial blessings are bestowed on you

©BAR
2000

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Journey Of Dreams

Draped in hues of linen
Ribbed with satin's sheen
A halo for heaven's angel
Journeying to her dreams

Tiny fingers interlace
Soft honey dewed curls
Wispy breaths billow sails
To take her to another world

Encircled in steadfast arms
Nestling a beating heart
Departing on a cloud ship
But in love, never truly apart

©BAR

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Night's Blessing

Watching your lids
slowly slip, eclipsing
the blue full moon
of your eyes,
births a smile~

While a soft kiss
whisks you away,
on breaths of sleep,
to the land of dreams~

~*~

Sweet dreams,
my little one.

I Love You....

©BAR
12/3/98

~~~~~~~~~~~~~


My Little One

Your tight hugs
My little one-
Your 'I love you'
In my ear

Your bright smiles
My little one-
Your kisses
Hands in my hair

Do you know
My little one-?
You have helped
bring me through

I'm so blessed
my little one-
I want you to know
I Love You.

©BAR
10/1/97




I remained focused on what I had but turned a blind eye to my health and my ever increasing weight. I honestly think I was afraid to look at my reality. I was afraid at what I might see if I dug deep enough to unearth my inner fears and pain.

Just Another Day

Day's fabric swaddles me,
I shelter in its folds,
comforted by warm, red rays
of the rising, setting sun.
My eyes fixed on the present;
secure in what is known,
too fearful to look away

(c) Jan. 2002
Beth A. Rogers

My relationship with my Mother grew steadily distant though we saw each other often. With the death of my Father at a fairly young age my Mother turned to my daughters to fill her loneliness and void.

All of her life the center of her existence was her husband and her children. Now living in an empty house she clung to my daughters. Once again I struggled with the need to "fix" to make things okay. I loved my Mother deeply so I found myself stepping back, burying my feelings and allowing her at times, to parent my children.

Looking back now I know so much of it was wrapped up in my own self esteem. I often felt that it was my fault when the lives of those around me were filled with pain, tension and turmoil. And if it wasn't my fault it was most certainly my fault that I couldn't make their lives better. My life was totally wrapped up in giving of myself for others to the point that in a way I lost my identity.

The Fault Line

When the world within my boundaries
begins to rumble, quiver and shake

And a seismic disturbance
threatens peaceful ways, to break

Frantically searching for an answer
to ease the tension it makes

I delve into myself looking
for the fault line---

I burrow and dig deep inside
way to my very core

Searching myself for the epicenter
analyzing actions, words and more

Questioning if it's my faults
causing the shaking of your floor

I scrutinize, analyze
for the fault line---

Why do I take upon myself
the cause of your failures and pains?

Why do I need to lessen your tension
by taking upon myself, your blame?

Why do I think so little of myself
that I'm willing to wear your shame?

What will I ever gain by taking claim
for the fault line---

It's time to love myself enough
to not take on your insecurities

It's time to be strong enough that
your words don't send me to my knees

It's time to recognize what's within me
and know your failures aren't mine to seize

And realize not to always look to myself
for the fault line---

©BAR
2/3/98

As I felt further and further out of control of my own life I continued to turn to food to bury all that I was feeling. As my weight increased the distance increased between me and my Mother until it came to a point that she would no longer touch or hold me. We spent most of our time in superficial conversations tip-toeing around the chasm that was growing deeper and deeper between us.

From A Non-Entity

Beside you I feel as a cast out stranger
Not as the child of who you gave birth
I watch you in silence as you ignore me
Treating me as a person with little worth

When your gaze looks upon my being
All I see is total disgust in your eyes
If you brush against me or I embrace you
There is an aversion you just can't disguise

What have I done to receive your judgment?
You, who others praise , has a golden heart
Explain to me, please, how this shows you love me
Where in concern does revulsion take a part?

~

As a child my life was filled with loneliness
Trying to ignore laughs and jeers behind hands
Sitting alone upon the school steps, hiding
Feeling there was no one who could understand

I searched for something I could excel in
That which would bring me into the crowd
The one thing I could claim as my own
Something that would make you proud

But when I discovered within, that treasure
The praise was so limited, I didn't understand
My flaws and looks were the focus of discussion
For you see a fat child was never part of your plan

~

Now as an adult, I'm still treated as that child
You still are trying to control and change me
All buried in the pretense of love and caring
But the driving power of guilt, is what I see

I don't need your guilt placed upon me
Believe me, I have enough of my own
Constantly feeling I am a total failure
For once let me be in control!

Don't go behind my back using my family
Trying to shed your guilt by changing who I am
I am who I am, but for you that isn't good enough
Because I don't fit into your perfect plan

~

Because I'm overweight do you think I don't feel?
Do you think the layers have caused me to go numb?
My self esteem has been pulverized and strangled
I don't need to be treated like I'm dumb!

The world looks upon me in total disgust
Laughing and snickering...I pretend I don't hear
After all fat people are scum...a non-entity
So why should anyone, even you, really care

I'm told by all around to 'Just change it'
But it is hard to change, if I have no worth
I don't expect the world to solve my problems
But being treated as a human being sure wouldn't hurt

(c)Beth A. Rogers

Child Of Difference

An angel silently sits close,

to a child filled with hope.

A hand upon a tousled head,

its wings a protective cloak.

Crystalline tears overflow its eyes;

the child is passed without a glance.

Ostracized. Differentiated.

Condemned without a chance.

Deplorable, despicable entity,

scum of the earth to the world's eyes.

The child's care-free innocent years,

give birth to tears that will never dry.
~
Oh, child of my heart I know,

the pain you now hold inside.

I wish I could whisper it away,

and in peace you'll forever abide.

But that is not the ways of this world,

many fear those different from them.

Just know you're wrapped in a special love,

forever bestowed the strength to mend.

You will be blessed with rare understanding,

a gentle heart that is perpetually wise.

An ability to look past the physical,

seeing deeply what hides behind eyes.

A sensitivity to those who are hurting,

within their victories you will sing.

And within this pain that now is engraved,

you'll be protected forever in my wings.

©BAR 09/17/98

Eva

I want to spend some time telling you about my sister. She plays an important roll in the dynamics of my relationship with my Mother.

My sister's name is Eva. She is the oldest of the family. Eva was born with something called 'Turner's Syndrome'. Turner's syndrome is a genetic condition in which a female does not have the usual pair of two X chromosomes. As a result, they don't develop past puberty, are small in stature and can suffer from multiple health conditions, including infertility.

Eva is only 4'9" and within a community and a school where most of the children were of the tall Dutch decent she was often teased. Life has not always been very easy for her and my Mother struggled with feelings of guilt for giving birth to a child with defects.

I never knew of my Mother's struggle. She never wore her feelings on her sleeve but it effected the way she treated me. Over the years, in the midst of one of our many arguments regarding my weight it all came out. For me it was like a bright light had been shown into the dark corners of our relationship.

That day my Mother had asked me what she could do to help me lose the weight. I simply said to her...praise. I explained that I had grown up looking and seeking her praise but it was so limited and I didn't understand. I told her that I had so often felt that I was a failure and that I rarely made her happy. With tears in her eyes she yelled, "But I feel so guilty about your sister!"

You see she was always afraid to give me much praise because it would take away from Eva. She felt that my sister struggled so much and that she was the one who was in greater need of praise...she was so afraid that I would "out-shine" her.

At that moment there suddenly was clarity...clarity to it all. I FINALLY understood why often there was so little encouragement from a Mother who showered encouragement on my sister. I gained understanding but along with that understanding came anger and hurt. I had spent years being teased in school, years of my Mother lecturing me about my weight. I spent years with only a small smattering of friends of feeling so alone.

Looking back now I think my Mother was filled with anger when it came to my weight. She saw my sister hurting due to a condition that she couldn't change but my obesity was something I could change and she just didn't understand. She frequently brought me to doctors hoping they would sit me down and tell me I had to lose weight. She brought me to Weight Watchers at the age of 15 only to argue with them that their goal weight was too high. She would say to me so often, "You would be so pretty if you would just lose weight." Or "You'll never get married. Don't you want to get married and have children?" She appeared to become almost obsessed with my weight and tried to control every aspect of my life...how I dressed, how I wore my hair. I wonder sometimes if she felt that if she could have greater control over me she could stop me from turning to food. Instead I turned to food...to rebel...to feel as if I was in control over at least one aspect of my life. I turned to that food as those words...those tapes...played over and over again in my head.

As a young teenager those words were devastating to me. They stayed with me for years, all the way into my adulthood. I had convinced myself that I wasn't pretty, that I wasn't good enough, that I would never be desired or loved by a man...that I would never have worth.

I buried that child in layers and layers of skin hoping and praying that I could just fill the void...

Shadowed Child

I am a child of shadows
afraid to touch the light.
My domicile's darkness,
day eclipsed to night.

Veiled in ambiguity
by walls, cliffs and trees.
Enfolded in dark forms,
tucked with bent knees.

I sit with opened hands
palmed to spirits of the day
and beckon them to join
in shadowed secure play.

The soft luster of daybreak
teases vulnerable walls,
crumbling from intensity
of haunting demon calls.

I tremble, as long fingers
reach from the other side.
Beneath a phantom's cloak
I burrow deep and hide.

©BAR
01/26/99

Extraction

A hand reaches
deep within

Trembling fingers
permeate my mind

Knowing not
what they will touch

Or what will
be grasped over time

Memories extracted
from dark inner walls

Pulling...

mockery
snickering
taunting
jeering
words
pain
tears

Leaving...

A lonely child
afraid.

Trying to hide
from the eyes

©BAR 10/26/97

The Start

I feel a need to start at the beginning. I feel it is important for me to express where I have come from. My hope is that it will speak to others. That they may recognize a glimpse of themselves. That they too may...just believe.

I was born on July 2, 1956 in the city that I still live today. I was the third child; the baby. Essentially my family was a good family. I had parents that truly did love me, who really had only my best interest at heart. I was raised with a strong belief in God and grew up in what many would label, 'a sheltered life'.

Looking back I often wonder where it went so wrong? I had the security and love many only dreamed of having. I had an intact two-parent family who would do anything for their children. I had a Mother who believed the reason for her existence was her family. So why at the age of eight was my weight soaring? Why so often did I struggle with acceptance and confidence in myself? Why was there always such a fear of failure?

People have asked me, "What happened that you put on so much weight?" Even my Mother has asked me, "Were you raped as a child and I never knew it?" Those questions bloomed into frustration, confusion, doubt. I still find myself at times searching for that answer, trying to still make some sense of it all.

The Search

Looking back now, I am slowly beginning to understand that child. I am learning to appreciate and understand the stepping stones that have brought me to where I am today.

I have come to know a child. She was a shy, tender, sensitive child, woven with a thread of tenderness, a passion to relieve other's pain. The pain of others would weave it's fingers around the edges of her mind and hold her in a grasp that wouldn't let go.

When I was seven years old my Grandfather was diagnosed with Kidney Cancer. It was the first time in my life where I was exposed to the struggles of this disease. I watched my Father wrestle with his Father's impending death. I remember those days of struggle and questions. The lack of my understanding and the pressing need to know 'why?'

When my Grandfather died I remember my Father's tears so clearly. It is the one stark memory that stands out, even to this day. You know that memory still hurts and even all these years later it still weaves an uneasiness deep within my heart and soul. I cried so hard at the funeral. So hard that my Mother almost took me out of the church. It wasn't so much the death of my Grandpa that brought me such deep sadness....it was my Father's tears and the inability to make things "okay."

I recognize that now as one of the turning points. The inability to express what I was feeling. The strong desire to take away my Father's pain. I had few friends and I had no idea where to turn for comfort so I reached for food.

As I gained weight a wedge was beginning to be driven between me and my Mother. She struggled with her own feelings of guilt regarding my increasing weight. My weight became the center of our discussions and it over shadowed our relationship. Even though I know my Mother loved me I felt such a distance and so often it felt as if I was losing my Mother's love.

Remnants

A child sits buried,

in the shadow of a school's wall.

Her eyes veiled in dimness,

as her fingers trace

a rough concrete step.

The coldness of the concrete

sends shivers down her delicate spine,

jarring her to a momentary awareness,

of distant children at play.

Clad in remnants of a mother's guilt,

for the birth of an older child,

whose physical form spoke of ‘difference’

in this often cruel world.

Left alone to develop her own strength,

on the playgrounds in her mind,

as confusion, taunted and jeered,

from its position as ‘King of the Hill.’

She frantically searches for an answer,

to why praises to her are so few,

when streaming rays of warm praises,

on the other so abundantly did shine.

Her mind racked with tormenting pain,

not understanding what she had done.

Wondering where had she failed

and what could she do to make things right?

Tears that gather below the surface,

are frozen by the penetrating cold,

and tightly packed around her heart

in an attempt to numb the pain.

Hungry for a mother's loving touch,

a tight embrace to bring her warmth,

she wraps her frailties in layers of skin,

as she searches for answers to why

she lost her mother's unconditional love.

©BAR 10/13/98

Re-Discovery: 2-21-2008

Inkwell

I immerse quelled fingers to dabble

in the reservoir of my mind,

deep within the richest ink,

the blackest I can find.

Allured by security of darkness,

away from the starkness of reality.

Where I find my soul

in the blackest tracings,

on the whitest page.

©BAR 01/21/99

I come to this place with a deep sense of anticipation but also some uncertainty. I have been encouraged to write and share my words. These are words of my life, my journey. It is the journey that I have taken to find and discover the reality of LIFE.

On January 30, 2008, I celebrated an anniversary. It was the two-year anniversary of the day my life and story changed. I rolled threw the doors of an OR suite. I was to under go Roux-En-Y Gastric Bypass surgery. I never truly anticipated how much this surgery would change not only my physical body but also a very vital layer of who I am.

That day was the start of my journey to health and a life I never truly knew but the months and years of preparation are also so much a part of my story. It is the story of who I was, who I have grown to be but also, most importantly, it is the story of life and love.

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Over the years I have learned the importance of words. Words of discovery, searching, pain, joy, blackness, confidence, hate, love. They were words of life. I drew upon them to find a friend, to listen to a child, to feel and taste the tears. Through those words I learned to love myself and to forgive.

Over time I packed up those words and I filed them away until now. With the nudging from a dear soul, I have now come back to a place of words.

I feel drawn to these words, my need to simply write. They feel like an old friend, someone I haven’t seen, touched or hugged in a very long time. They whisper to me….”just believe” and with tears I return…and I believe.

…the written word…it welcomes this changed person…home

Unveiled

A naked form sits in obscurity

at the root of a willow tree.

Veiled behind slivered leaves

bathed in hues of yellow-green.
Postured in a child’s fragility;

arms wrapped around knees.

Encircled by angel tears

and murmurs to just believe.

©BAR 11/16/98