Deafening silence. Not a sound. Only the quiet vibrations from the internal, raucous roar of a beating heart. And oh, BOY! Is this heart ever beating away!

This blog entry isn't written by me. It's written by you, my sweet family, and the world around me. It's written by today's forecasted serendipitous snow that will satisfy me to the core, the eggs my chickens and ducks lay daily, and the song "Sounds of Silence" I listen to as this blog post flows freely from the depths of my soul.

I assure you, in the midst of the world that hammers on throughout our daily endeavors we should stop. Take notice of all the things we have not solicited, yet soothe and feed our being. Imagine even a day without sustenance, human contact, and music that awakens and inspires our thoughts. So many sensations that harken back to foods we ate as children, the scent of our grandmother's perfume, the brilliant colors of Christmas lights, even seasons that bring such splendor and much-needed change. Imagine how many things we miss when we focus on walking forward, over, around and under our destination. Did you know the journey, and not the destination is the crux of life?

Sadly, many who have endured the unfortunate journey of abuse believe there is no destination. How could there be? Daily they walk the perilous path that is paved with pain. That is all they know. That is all they have made a choice to know.

I want you to know this: THEY are the people who will be at the very top of my party invitation list. Let me tell you about my party. There will be no music; no songs compare to the magnitude of THIS kind of celebration. Food? Nope. Healing satiates our souls in every way imaginable. Balloons and streamers? They, along with confetti are the fortuitous feelings we realize as we clearly see a landing-place. Such a stunning sight!

So, where is this "party" anyway? This party is within all of us if we choose to host it. The timing is up to us. Personally, I intend to keep it ongoing; as a survivor, I don't want to miss a single thing to celebrate. I guess that is why I call my party "A Silent Celebration." Silent? If there were any noise, it would be DEAFENING!

Take note: as a survivor, I can tell you that the all-encompassing greatness of this feeling is indescribable! No one, not even my abusers still live in my head rent-free! The day I evicted them was one I will always honor; I took back my autonomy like a child snatches candy on Halloween! I emptied the entire confectionery contents of that black plastic cauldron into the bag I've carried for years. I take that bag with me everywhere I go. It used to be filled with tears, sadness, abandonment and despair. Oh, trust me. This fabric was woven of every kind of belittlement, mockery, invalidation, resentment, even anger. Intense, unsought, unwelcomed daily soul-wrenching desecration of my personhood. Can you imagine clutching an empty bag that weighed more than you ever thought you could lift, let alone carry, day in and day out?

One day my soul decided for me that it could take no more. After all, why bear the burden of a backbreaking bag absent contents? It served no purpose! It held nothing to justify my journey, offered no assistance in navigating this treacherous road I traveled, and wouldn't even feed the homeless! It held an unwelcome vacancy. There was nothing I could find to make sense of this monotonous measure. It didn't work for me anymore. One can only try to imagine that moment my soul took over for my mind. You see, my heart was much wiser than I ever realized. It knew that hearts filled with sadness, anger and pain waste space where love could live and flourish! From out of nowhere, I emptied these wasted, needless emotions, then patiently awaited something. ANYTHING.

That "anything" soon held such magnitude! In a single word, I choose to refer to it as HOPE. But really, it is even more! Hope is the funeral march for those who tried to snuff out your spark. We are the brilliant wreckage that wants to become so much more. It is a magnificence in possibility. It is the song that plays over and over again, reminding you that the best is yet to come. It is the arms that tightly wrap themselves around you when you're tired and running on fumes. It is the force that stills the sounds that overwhelm our need for solitude. It is the validation that resonates in the realization that you are good, you matter, are worthy of love, and yes, YOU are a SURVIVOR!

Hope is a celebration without sounds. As silent as the beautiful bud that quietly, eloquently and exquisitely blossoms. It is the fantastic, fascinating energy that lies within you and me. It is yours for the taking.

I hope you will attend my party. I will be at yours. Survivors must celebrate their pilgrimage from grief to gratitude. We all need to share in the hope that is now the promise of tomorrow.