Sadie Speaks is not my real name. It’s my pen name. On the early introduction pages of my blog, you’ll see how and why I chose to write with a pen name. Real person, different name.
To be clear, ‘Speaks’ is a genuine surname. Just not mine by birth. It hails from England and could have two different origins. One of those origins is that it’s root is the same as a carpenter bird better known as a woodpecker. Much like the woodpecker, this blog seeks to drive home a point. This blog speaks hope and healing to those reeling from intimate partner violence, domestic violence, sexual abuse and life’s tragedies; hard places and grief. Ms. Speaks would like her blog surname to wildly hammer the message; to repeatedly repeat the words that there is healing in Jesus’ Name and that there is a safe and sacred space to work out that healing. Through my poetry and writing; through my painting and advocating — this blog seeks to give you a birds’ eye view into the process and the practice and the pain of healing. Not in a sort of pounding one’s head against a brick wall but more, like the purposeful design of a woodpecker’s motion and manner, to watch the artistry of healing: knocking holes into rotten wood whereby nests of life can be birthed. Those nests offering up healing and hope. In short, woodpeckers are cool.
That said, my intention was never to mimic a woodpecker or to have ‘Speaks’ as a blog pen name surname. In my mind, Speaks has always been and will always be a verb. Sadie speaks. Sadie finds her voice after abuse. Sadie tells the stories that laid isolated deep within her heart year after year causing profound loneliness long before the #metoo movement and long before any woman dared to speak of the horrors of crimes committed against her.
When one did speak, you weren’t believed. And when one wasn’t believed, you went back to the loudest of all lonely silences. Often, the only place to be heard was pen and paper. And quite often what I penned were prayers and poems; feelings and fear and faith all mixed in together— you couldn’t divide them out from one another if you tried.
My counselors told me I should write for others’ to read. They told me my words would make a difference. I'm still not sure I believe that. It took me 13 years from that first nudge to say yes to sharing myself in print. Sadie Speaks is about to celebrate its third anniversary.
I have been quiet the last two months. Earlier this year, I had a full-on life set back with nightmares, intruding memories and a deep wrestling with my self-image, worthiness and life’s deepest existential questions. The ‘gloater’ about healing and hope was feeling less than healed with no hope. Not to beat a dead horse, but I had a hard winter.
Sadie wishes to speak those words into your life, too. In this journey, being restored from your past trauma or current sorrow is a marathon, not a sprint. Some times, the race gets extra hard and extra long and you don’t feel like you can finish well — or finish at all. You need to know that in that space, you are also not alone.
You can finish.
Hold on to hope.
Hold tight to the lifeline.
Let loose of the pain.
Find your voice.
Much like a woodpecker insists on breaking through the rotten wood, repeat the victory chant over and over until your breakthrough comes.
Redemption is for you.
This poem is a little glimpse into the history of the Speaks family name. Their crest: to sing songs of redemption’s triumph. I am determined to sing the song of my people.
If you need healing from what ails, you’re my people. You’re my kin.
Join the victory chant of the ages.
‘Cause I come from a long line of people I never knew …
From Thieves, Whores & Vagabonds
I come from a long line
Of people that I never knew
Who walked roads I have no earthly idea
What they went through
Glimpses into painful stories
Painful pasts
And then, Redemption
Their cry became the Cross
Their song became a victory chant
And the thing about Redemption
Is that you have to keep on singing
It’s the song that never ends
It goes on and on, my friend
It’s better than 99 bottles of beer
on the wall
But you have to repeat Redemption’s chorus
Just as many times
And once we all join the Choir
It doesn’t matter where we’ve been
But it does take some longer
To learn the lyrics and the victory chant
The song repeats in around
From generation to generation
I once was lost
But now I’m found
And the Chorus crescendos
All the voices
Saved, in unison
Echoing the refrain
God is light
In Him there is no darkness
God is love
In Him there is no hate
God is mercy
In Him no contempt or judgment
God is grace.
And my family tree whispers,
Like the thief on the cross
‘Remember me,
O Lord’
A saved soul
A wasted life
Hanging like a thief
Hanging by a thread of God’s mercy
But I’d almost rather come
From thieves and whores and vagabonds
Than from Pharisees and rich men walking
Because it’s harder for them
To reach the eternal Kingdom
‘Cause the thieves
And the whores
And the vagabonds
Know mercy when they see it
The sinners know they’re sinners
And reach for the hem of the Savior
I’ve often thought my roots ruined me
But maybe they actually saved
‘Cause I saw dead men walking
Out of their self-made graves
And I saw sinners become saints
Well, I saw sinners be saved
But that is a heritage I’ll gladly take
I heard my relatives sing songs
Loud and robust and full
‘I’m so glad I’m apart of the family of God
I’ve been washed in the fountain
Cleansed by His blood
Joint heirs with Jesus as we travel this sod
For I’m part of the family,
The family of God.’
And the thing about Redemption
Is that you have to keep on singing
You must keep reminding yourself,
And reminding your kin, of all the words
And join voices with the others
Sing loud so they hear the harmony,
Sing soft so they hear the parts
Just like the long line of sinners
Who came {and went} from places I’ve never been
God is light
In Him there is no darkness
God is love
In Him there is no hate
God is mercy
In Him, no contempt or judgment
God is grace.
Jesus saves.
Jesus saves.
The victory chant of the ages.
The lyrics of the saints.
I come from a long line
Of the unexpectedly redeemed
Repeating their cry, the Cross
Rehearsing their whisper for a thief’s mercy
And I am determined to sing alongside them
My story of unexpected redemption
And boast only of the Cross
And shout the victory chant
—At least rehearse it —
And perfect my song
Like the thieves, whores and vagabonds
I come from
Lord, have mercy
Save us
For you are Light
And in You there is no darkness
You are Love
In You there is no hate
And You are mercy
In You, no contempt or judgment
You are Grace.
2.2.22
10:22am
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