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Bedtime Stories and Happier Endings | Mary Biever | One Writing Mother

Bedtime Stories and Happier Endings

You never know the end of your story. And the saddest parts of your story can be used by God for happier endings later.

I flashed last night to one of my own darkest chapters, 38 years ago. We had moved out of state, to a different part of the country, in the last ditch final attempt of my parents to keep their marriage together. At that time, keeping a rotten marriage intact “for the sake of the children” was the norm, even when the cost for that was priced in pieces of children’s souls, trapped in a horrid situation.

We lived that summer in a tiny, 1-bedroom apartment that didn’t allow children. There were 4 kids, and we slept on army cots that filled the living room every night and were stacked against a wall the next morning. Because kids weren’t allowed, the curtains were kept drawn, and we had to play quietly. Our only respites were to leave to visit the library or to swim at a pool. And then we had to leave quietly so we wouldn’t get caught living where we weren’t supposed to be.

The door of those bad memories generally stays closed. I savor living in a world where my family has a home, and each morning I can open the curtains and savor the sunshine.

Last night, the door opened when I learned on Facebook of a woman who needed beds for her children to get out of a bad situation.

Times have changed. Now there is recognition that there are times women and their children are sometimes better off out of a bad situation and marriage.

So I shared the need for children’s beds on my Facebook wall. When I share such needs, I generally say a fast prayer that if it is God’s will that the need be met in that manner, that He will open the doors to make it happen. It so happened that night that someone’s parents were getting rid of beds that might work. The parties involved exchanged emails for follow up.

I don’t know what the ending of that story will be or if the beds that were needed and found will work.

But I do know that for awhile, I flashed back to being the quiet girl who survived a horrific summer by reading books. Except now I’ve learned there are good people. With my husband’s example, I’ve learned that not all dads are bad and how wonderful it is for my own children to have the childhood I didn’t.

But I was also reminded that those bad times are what made me who I am, and God will help me take the pain from those experiences to reach out to others in similar need now who need a helping hand.

These kids, whoever and wherever they are, have a chance to build a better life and will get to do so with something better than army cots stacked against a wall. They’ll get real beds.

They won’t know there’s a writing mother out there who’s praying for them and pulling for them to build better lives. And who recognizes that when we reach our own hands out to help others today, we sometimes empower them to do the same in the future.


Wow. It's Quiet Here...

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