Lessons Learned

In rereading your journals you may discover hidden treasures within the
pages that you tucked away for safe keeping in addition to what you have
written in your journal. When flipping open this most recently read
journal, I found old cards that were obviously meaningful to me. You
could write a story just about the cards, or a special memory may be
evoked by reading one and then write a story. I also found a three page
typed story I wrote of a memory I was obviously reflecting upon, this is
the raw excerpt:

Money, Money, Money by Lillian
Wagner.

"When I was twenty-one, I lost almost all my material possessions.
More importantly, I lost my home in the DeKalb Apartments, in
Norristown, Pa. The apartment complex had a fire. If things were not
destroyed by the fire, they were water-damaged by the hoses. I remember I
was going to the movies that night on a date when the fire alarms went
off. My youngest brother was there. He came over to baby-sit my son,
Danny while I went out. Danny was one and a half years old at the time.
We had just evacuated the building when I remembered that I left my
$118 in rent money inside. I ran back into the dark building to
retrieve it against everyone's advice. I ran smack dab into a fire
extinguisher that hung on the wall right outside of my front door. I had
to get my money; it was the only money I had. I was living on welfare.
The fire alarm was officially called off when the firemen declared
it was a false alarm. No fire was seen anywhere in the building. So I
went to the movies with my date, and my brother stayed home with my son.
When I came home everything was barricaded off and the police told me
that I couldn't go into the complex because there was a terrible fire.
You can well imagine my panic. The police reassured me everyone in the
building was fine. The Red Cross put everyone up at the local hotel in
town on Main Street in Norristown. Sure enough that is where I found my
son. My brother high tailed it home, leaving my son in the care of the
neighbors. I didn't know it at the time, but my brother was addicted to
hard drugs.
I stayed there for the duration of the Red Cross funding, a full
three weeks. As a matter of fact, I was the last one to leave. My mother
came up from Maryland after I begged her to come; she placed $5 on the
bureau of my hotel room. "This is all I can do to help you, Lillian. I
know you don't understand this now, but some day you will. You will
become a strong woman," she told me. She was right because I didn't
understand, and to be quite honest, I hated her for a very long time.
And I never really understood her reasoning until recently.
The people that owned the hotel offered to adopt my son because they
were only able to have one child. They fell madly in love with my son.
He was a beautiful blue eyed boy with Shirley Temple ringlets, and a
cute button nose. I remember how touched I was that they wanted to help
me and how angry I was. "You may be able to provide him with all the
material things in the world, the best education and so much more than I
could financially, but you could never love him as much as I do. I
would rather live in a sewer, or on a street corner starving, before I
will ever give my son up," I said with such conviction.
It was the day before I had to leave that I found an apartment. I
had walked the streets of Norristown looking for a place to live with my
$118, plus $5 in the cold weather with no winter coat. The Red Cross
gave me a rust color valor coat and a voucher to get a new mattress when
I finally found an apartment. It was a one bedroom apartment with a
small living room. The kitchen and the bathroom were in a funky
basement. I moved in my new family. I brought with me a fifteen year old
girl, named Debbie, her alcoholic parents abandoned her after the fire,
my drug addict brother who left home, and of course, my son. In
addition, I brought a green leather recliner that survived the fire in
Debbie's apt.; a double size box spring and mattress, my Formica top
kitchen table, my white Philco refrigerator, and any other odds and ends
that survived the fire. I had no apartment insurance.
I went to work at a boutique while Debbie stayed home and watched
my son. I struggled financially for a long time. I threw my brother out
after an episode of a drug related incident. Times were tough. I became
tough, but I never gave up my son. I was strong. I used my fear and
anger to propel myself forward. My life back then was one struggle after
another. I felt very alone. And I know today, that if I could make it
through tough times like I did back then as a young adult, I certainly
can make it through life easier today with years of experience and
wisdom.
When I asked myself, "what did I learn from the experience?" I came
up with this answer:
1. My mother was right, I didn't understand. However, today I realize
that she helped me to stand on my own two feet by not doing for me what I
was capable of doing myself. She empowered me to become independent and
take responsibility for my life.
2. I learned that there is nothing more powerful or meaningful than
love. All the money in the world can not buy love. If I had chosen to
give my son to those people, I would of done that out of love, as well.
However, I didn't and I have never regretted making the choice that I
did.
3. I learned that I am an incredible woman."


Whether you are rereading your journals or you are writing something
new, you will discover your own lessons upon reflection. As I am
rereading these journals written from my own healing journey, I realize
the value of what I wrote and I am also identifying new insights.
Because I am in a different place in my life from when I wrote these
lessons, I can now add new lessons. After you write a story, ask
yourself: "What has been my lesson?" What can I do with this lesson to
better my life today? How can I share my lessons with others in the
hopes of encouraging and inspiring others to bring light to the world?
If your rereading you journals you too, may see new insights. I think
whenever, we do our internal work we can benefit others by taking that
work out to a whole new level. May the blessings of your lessons benefit
you and others. Please feel free to share any of your personal
experiences and what the lessons were that you learned as a result. If you want to work together you
can contact via email, or by phone. Or, simply leave a comment to share. All
comments are welcome and encouraged.

Journal Writer/Artist/Coach
Facilitator/Healer
803-643-8461
Web-site: lilliangaffney.com