Slow to the Pace of Grace

I heard this phrase in a sermon when I lived in Washington state and it resonated with me. 

I was taught as a child that doing tasks was important and a possible way to win favor.  I was also taught that my best would never be good enough; therefore, I have no worth.  Sorry, I had an evil step-father named Dick.

Because of my childhood training, I have spent my adulthood doing.  And what I did was never enough so I could never slow down or stop. 

The pastor said Christians need to slow to the pace of grace.  We need to make time in our busy lives to do what God prompts when he prompts. 

His example was the Good Samaritan in Luke 10.  A traveler was beaten and robbed by thieves, and left naked beside the road.  The Samaritan was traveling but was filled with compassion when he saw the beaten man.  The Samaritan cleaned and bandaged the injured man’s wounds.  He put him on his animal and carried him to an inn.  The following morning, he gave the innkeeper some money and asked him to take care of the man, explaining he would return for the injured man. 

My first instinct is to say, “What? Who has time or money for that?”  And yet, that is exactly what Jesus expects from Christians. 

We need to get our priorities right.  In today’s world, businesses are pushing their employees to do more and more and more with less and less and less.  Sometimes, as Christians, we’re conflicted because we have multiple goals and we’re not sure which should come first.  But God tells us that his priority is more important than the world’s. 

“The world and its desires pass away, but whoever does the will of God lives forever.”

1 John 2:17

We need to stop doing what we think is most important and do what God is asking.  He will bless us if we obey him. 

As a Christian, the thing I desire most is to hear “Well done, good and faithful servant,” cross my Father’s lips. 

All I have to do is obey him and the most important command he gives me is to give people a glimpse of who he is by loving them in action. 

“Dear children, let’s not merely say that we love each other.  Let us show the truth by our actions.”

1 John 3:18. 

I can’t show love to anyone if I don’t slow down and give them my time and help when they need it.  

Referrals Clerk Incompetent

Over the last year, my husband and I have needed a lot of referrals.  I now have major frustrations over the process.  Every time I call the doctor’s office, they tell me it’s “in process” or they’re waiting on the insurance company.  Most recently, the insurance company told me the doctor’s office simply needs to fax the referral to the clinic they’re referring to as the insurance company only needs to pre-approve procedures.  The specialists consistently tell me they didn’t receive the referral so they can’t make an appointment. 

My husband has had multiple ER trips since March 2018 for kidney infections and he’s been on antibiotics numerous times.  It took months before our “doctor” put in a referral to a urologist even though my husband has a rebuilt bladder and was complaining about feeling like he had an infection.  The local hospital urology clinic had two providers, both claim his case is too complex for them.  My husband got a referral to a doctor in the next town who said he could handle my husband’s case then won’t because he doesn’t take his new insurance. I called the doctor’s office and advised we would prefer a urologist in the next state over as it is less than 2 hours away from our home and a straight, easy drive.  The doctor’s office sent his referral to a doctor who is 3 hours away from our home and in the mountains where it’s snowing. 

Early January my husband was having another bout with a bladder infection.  He was miserable: puking, clammy, unable to eat or drink or keep his pain medications down.  He was in tears.  I was enraged.  I called his doctor’s office and explained he needs a referral to a urologist, podiatrist, and some kind of referral for the pain in his shoulder and back.  I explained to the person who answered the phone that this is becoming a mental health crisis because Miss Melissa is not doing her job correctly and my husband is not receiving the care he needs.  I explained he DOES NOT need a referral for pain management as he’s already being seen by a doctor for that.  (Twice I’ve explained he needs a referral for diagnostics for the new pain in his shoulders and back.  I explained the metal rods in his back have shifted.  I explained if he’s referred to another pain management doctor he can be fired-TWICE they ignored me and sent pain management referrals.)

Miss Melissa hadn’t returned my calls but when I called and she was there, the receptionist patched me through.  Miss Melissa told me she was confused and had left a message-true.  She also claimed to have left a message advising a referral had been processed and my husband just needed to call to schedule an appointment.  That was a lie. 

Miss Melissa argued with me about what the insurance company said and told me the referral has to be approved by the insurer.  I asked her why they would lie to me.  She finally agreed to fax the referrals to the specialists the same day, then she didn’t do it. 

I called and left a message for Miss Melissa’s boss advising she either needs to be fired or retrained (I’ve never done this before in my life).  I’ve also left 3 messages for her boss asking for a call back and not once has she called back. 

My husband has an appointment with a podiatrist coming up but he went through his pain management doctor to get x-rays ordered to diagnose what’s going on with his shoulder and back. 

After an ER visit, I called my doctor’s office and requested a referral to a urologist and a gastroenterologist.  The referral for the urologist was sent to a clinic 3 hours away.  Apparently Miss Melissa thinks my husband and I have interchangeable health needs.  I’m still trying to make contact with the gastroenterologist as they didn’t have my referral from my doctor’s office the first time I called. 

Yesterday, my husband received a letter from the “referral clerk” at the offices of our primary care physician reporting that his referral for Neurosurgery had been sent.  My husband has not been advised by any doctor that he needs a referral for Neurosurgery, so this letter is unexpected.  I have been seeing a neurologist since November of last year, so more than 3 months.  It would seem Miss Melissa has erred again and I needed the referral more than 3 months ago. 

We’re considering switching doctors but what we’re hearing again and again is it’s like this in most doctor’s offices in this community. 

Shame on you for treating people as if you don’t care if they suffer or survive!

My Firstborn

I went to the doctor on base because I kept having stomach pains.  He asked if I could be pregnant.  I said I could but it’s not likely.  He diagnosed an ulcer and prescribed a liquid.  The pain got worse so I went back.  The female doctor asked if I could be pregnant.  I said I could but it’s not likely.  She did a pregnancy test and called me with the results. 

Doctor:  “You’re pregnant.”

Me:  “No, I’m not.”

Doctor:  “Yes, you are.”

Me:  “No, I’m not.”

Doctor:  “Yes, you are.”

Me: 

I was not expecting to be pregnant.  I’d had sex once recently.  I was at a place where I disliked men and believed I was so broken from past abuse that I’d be a horrible mother.  I’d been reading and knew that victims of child abuse often become abusers themselves.  I didn’t want to hurt an innocent child.  So, I scheduled an appointment for an abortion and that clinic is the only place that offered me a military discount. 

My brother Adam argued that I’d be a good mom.  He said I’d been a great older sister and I could use those same tools with my own child.  He assured me I’d be nothing like my step-father Dick. 

I decided to carry the baby full-term and once I’d made that decision, I knew I’d raise the child myself.

I had morning sickness bad!  Bananas made me hurl.  I’d be sick, sick, sick and then a window of opportunity would open.

I ate and ate and ate and ate.  I would go to the chow hall for breakfast and load my plate with a little bit of everything:  pancakes, eggs, grits, bacon, sausage, and potatoes.  Then, I’d pour a little catsup on the potatoes and pour syrup over everything.  Salt and pepper to top it off.  I ate every morsel. 

For most of my pregnancy I referred to my baby as she.  I had the name Jewel Sue picked out.  About a month prior to my due date, I started referring to the baby as he and I didn’t even notice; a coworker pointed it out.  I said, yeah, it’s a boy. 

It was two weeks prior to my due date: my neighbor invited me over for dinner.  She had made steak, potatoes, and carrots.  Yum!  I ate it all.  We decided to go get ice cream for dessert.  I ordered a banana split and finished every drop. 

We went home and my contractions began.  My neighbor took me to the hospital.  They tried to send me home because I was early and it was my first.  I refused to leave.  I walked the halls.  My labor kept progressing.  I began vomiting one layer of food at a time, in reverse order:  ice cream, potatoes, carrots and meat.

I had previously stated I wanted to have my baby naturally, without painkillers.  Whoo boy!  The pain was intense and I begged for drugs but the nurse wouldn’t give me any. 

I was terrified I was going to die (my mom had a kidney issue and didn’t come home right away when my brother was born) and blurted out I hadn’t signed my will. 

The doctor finally arrived and asked the nurse if my waters had broke.  The nurse asked me, I told her they didn’t before they put me on the bed but after that, I didn’t know.  They checked, not broken.  The doctor put a hook like device inside, twisted and pulled, whoosh! 

My baby immediately dropped into the birth canal and began to make his appearance.  The doctor ordered painkillers.  Out popped my baby boy and he was beautiful.  They said he had baby pneumonia from breathing in the meconium.  I thought meconium had potential for a name.  Then they had me push out the placenta.  It was gorgeous with all these iridescent colors shot through it. 

I slept.  I slept for 5 hours.  I woke up and was a bit panicked:  where was my baby?

He was asleep too.  He woke up a little bit later and I nursed him.  He was perfect:  ten incredibly skinny and long fingers and toes, big feet, a full head of big, brown curls on his head.

He was in the hospital for 5 days because he had aspirated his meconium and was jaundiced.  I learned to swaddle him and change his diaper.  He latched on and ate with an appetite. 

I named him Fergus Anthony Reed and we began a lifelong relationship which I have NEVER regretted.

A year after I gave birth, I weighed 97 pounds and was 18 pounds less than when I got pregnant with him.  I should weigh at least 115:  I ate and ate and ate but he ate more than I could take in.   

God is Love

I was so surprised to read “God is love” in the bible. 

I believed God was this all-powerful being who created mankind and then tormented his creation for his pleasure.  I thought God believed I was evil and unlovable and that he was just waiting for me to die so he could judge me and send me to hell for eternity. 

I believed I could fix this if I could just show God some success in my life at following his directions. 

I experienced Christians as better-than-me do-gooders who had perfect lives.  I felt shut down when I tried to share my real struggles.  I heard them saying my faith and obedience weren’t good enough.  I believed they were reinforcing my brokenness with their judgment. 

I finally God desperate enough to try something different and I went to a 12-step program where most of the people were at some stage of growth and healing.  These were a loving people and they welcomed me with love. 

I went back to church and found myself welcomed with loving embraces by the female leader of the singles’ group.  She knew I was living with a man, but she left that up to God and loved me where I was. 

When God invited me to surrender; I did no without hesitation or reservation. 

It was amazing. 

Then I started reading my bible and praying every day. 

People always talk about the love chapter in 1 Corinthians 13, love is this, love is not that, blah, blah, blah, human love.  Human love had failed me, that chapter left me feeling disappointed. 

I came across 1 John and sprinkled throughout the pages are explanations of God’s love, our love toward him, and how he wants us to love each other.  I’d read these verses before but my eyes and heart were closed, they didn’t make sense.  Now they do. 

Dear Father, I pray anyone who reads these verses does so with their eyes and hearts open.  I pray they understand the depth of your love for us.  I pray they understand what you’re asking them to do.  I pray they will see through Satan’s lies about love as he tries to take a beautiful truth about you and distort it to separate us from you and your love and mercy.  In Jesus’ precious name.  Amen

“God is love.  Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them.”       1 John 4:16

“This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters.”                        1 John 3:16

“Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.”            1 John 4:8

“Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar.”     1 John 4:20

“Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.”

                                 1 John 3:18

God loves us and wants a relationship with us.  God designed us to love others and to be in relationship with them.  Satan tries to convince us that God doesn’t really love us and that we can have love and relationships that are better than God’s plan for us. 

Don’t be deceived. 

“He was a murderer from the beginning, not holding to the truth, for there is no truth in him.  When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies.”                           John 8:44

God and Satan want two different outcomes for you. 

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”       John 10:10

God wants you to spend eternity with him in heaven.  Satan wants you to keep him company in hell for eternity. 

I would love to hear from you.  Let’s share our master’s (God and Jesus’) joy with each other!

An Attitude of Gratitude

Where do I start? 

When I was in the Army National Guard, one of the call and response deals we did went like this:

     Sergeant:  “Company!  You all need an attitude check.”

To which we would respond:

     Company:  “Aw shit, fuck you, man.”

I have no idea why I like foul language so much.  I feel like they convey a deeper emotion than a more civilized choice.  It’s like, your feelings are so intense, you have to swear. 

I loved that I had been instructed by someone with more rank than I to say this phrase.  It tickles me. 

I’m so very grateful for the sense of humor God created me with.  Laughter is my main coping mechanism.  As a child, I loved to make my mom laugh.  I’d come home from school and regale her with stories chock full of humor. 

Oh and we’re a bunch of sarcastically funny people, my family.  I’ve been told the Greek root of sarcasm means to “tear flesh”. 

I have no idea how much of my life I was so focused on the negativity in my life that I totally missed out on many, tiny moments worthy of gratitude. 

After I started my recovery, I remember the first moment of gratitude to take me by surprise was seeing a tiny butterfly flitting about, sharing its exquisite beauty with me. 

What makes it really funny is I previously considered myself a positive, glass is half full kind of gal. 

Right. 

I find that if I start telling God what I appreciate and am grateful for, my focus shifts from the problems in my life to all the good in my life.  And in the reverse, if I let my thoughts and energy weigh on my problems; I don’t even notice my blessings. 

I can make a choice to improve my life by simply refocusing on the good until it becomes a habit. 

I’m going to face problems throughout my life on Earth, it will be easier if I do it with a grateful heart. 

I have much to be grateful for:  a loving husband for whom I have an enormous amount of love and respect, loving parents, loving siblings, two wonderful sons, seven amazing grandchildren, food, transportation, clothing, home, friends, eternal life, a unique relationship with my Heavenly Father and Creator. 

Yeah, I’m much happier when I exercise an attitude of gratitude. 

Disability Exam

Last Friday, my husband drove me an hour away to have a disability exam by a mental health professional.

I applied for disability when months had passed since the onset of vertigo without a diagnosis or treatment which will allow me to return to work.  One of the questions asks you to list all conditions which might interfere with your ability to work (or something along those lines).  I don’t want to get in trouble for lying, misrepresenting, or not providing full information, so although the big reason is vertigo, I included nausea (caused by the vertigo), migraines (because I’m having headaches virtually every day and migraines a couple times a month and one of the specialists said the vertigo may be caused by vestibular migraines), and anxiety (because I was under a great deal of stress when the vertigo came on and I believe the mind and body are inextricably linked; I’ve also experienced some pretty strong negative emotions since the vertigo began).  I was being seen by a mental health professional to address the stress prior to the vertigo.   

I’d had a rough week, with lots of vertigo attacks and I was feeling worn down. 

We stopped at McDonald’s on the way out of town and I ate a full meal.  This is the second time I left my town on a full stomach, with the same result.  I have nausea due to the vertigo and the effect is even worse when my stomach is full. 

On the way to my appointment, there is a significant change in altitude and sometimes it plays havoc with my ears.  I had an absurd amount of pressure in my ears and I couldn’t relieve it.  I tried holding my nose and blowing air with my mouth closed.  It didn’t work. 

I was overcome with nausea and discomfort and began to weep.  I desperately wanted to ask my husband to pull over, but how would that help?  We still needed to get to my appointment and it would only make matters worse to be late. 

We got to town and followed the doctor’s directions (down an alley) and arrived at my appointment. 

She asked me a lot of questions and I can’t remember them all but she did ask me the basics.  Name, date of birth, place of birth, state we were in, city we were in, current president and last.  She asked me to repeat three words and to remember them to tell them to her again later.  The words were house, boat and shoe.  We were in a town near water, so houseboat, and shoe.  I tapped my shoe through the rest of the interview.

She asked about my childhood, which was the first crying jag as I told her my step-father Dick was abusive physically, mentally, emotionally and sexually. 

She asked about my education:  three associate degrees and a bachelor’s degree. 

She asked me to explain what the idiom “strike while the iron’s hot” means.  For the life of me, I had no idea and I knew I should know and I was beyond frustrated.  It was one of the three times I started crying and couldn’t stop. 

She asked me if I’m worried about having vertigo.  No, worrying about it isn’t going to change a thing.  I want my old life back.  I want to drive and work and do normal things.  There was a brief period of time when I was really freaked out about not having any income, but we prayed about it, sold some things and covered our debts.  God has met all our needs. 

She asked about my military service and my work history.  The last place I worked was in child safety and it has left me traumatized.  I can’t talk about it without crying.  I cried when I told her I’d worked there a year and a half.  She didn’t ask any follow up questions. 

She asked about the feelings I’ve experienced since the onset of the vertigo.  I named a bunch:  confusion, frustration, worry, fear, dread, anger, embarrassment, depression, sorrow, hope, grief.  I could have gone on.   

At the end of the interview, she told me her husband had a three month bout of vertigo and it was definitely scary but he has since recovered. 

My husband and I got in our car and I started crying again.  He asked what was wrong.  I covered my face with my hands and tried to tell him through my tears.  I leaned over on his shoulder and just let it out.  He was just there.  Loving me.  Supporting me.  Not trying to fix anything, just reassuring me. 

I Couldn’t Have Imagined This!

Thank You Father God!  With one plan, You’re blessing me, my nephews, my husband, my parents, and my brother and I’m sure the blessings spread beyond what I’ll ever know. 

It’s been a week and a half since I started coaching my nephews.  They’re 7 and 10 and were not succeeding in a traditional brick and mortar school.  I’m not here to bash teachers, there are good and bad apples in every barrel, but our education system is broken. 

I’d moved back to my hometown and was happily married.  My husband and I were attending a vibrant church with a loving Celebrate Recovery program.  I was working in child protection and we had more than adequate income and good health insurance coverage.  My husband was teaching me to hunt and I’d discovered it was fun to share his passion and I was reasonably good at it.  I envisioned us spending the rest of our lives loving each other, family, and forever family (fellow Christians).  I thought I was going to work right up to retirement.  All I wanted was God’s will for my life and I was asking him for a different job. 

The vertigo came on suddenly, taking me by surprise.  At first, I was just frustrated (I hate to be sick, period.)  I thought I’d be back to normal in a few days.  That hasn’t happened.  My health is preventing me from working and has basically turned me into a shut in.  I hate it.  I have no income.  I had to give up my position with the state because I couldn’t pay the health insurance premiums.  I can’t do normal things like house cleaning, grocery shopping, and personal care like I used to do; I have to find ways to accomplish these things with the help of family.  I felt like I wasn’t contributing to society.   

Because I haven’t been able to work for four months, the idea that I might serve as a Learning Coach appealed to me.  I was concerned I wouldn’t be able to do it, physically.  I want to be reliable.  After much prayer, much talk with my mother, and much research, I decided to commit to trying it out. 

Whoo boy!  My nephews are delivered to my home four mornings a week.  (I can’t drive right now.)  They’re always smiling and happy to arrive.  They each have a laptop and a seat at my dining room table and I sit between them while they do their online classes.  (Movement is a trigger.)  I clarify what needs to be done, answer questions, and try to keep them on task.  We eat a light, easy lunch:  sandwiches, pizza, leftovers, etc.  They don’t seem to notice when my symptoms get bad.  I hold still when I can, wall walk when I have to, lie down briefly when needed, and smile.  So far, so good.    

I’m blessed.  I get to contribute.  Even better than that, I get to spend time getting to know these marvelous young men.  I get to experience a wide range of emotions, including love (the younger nephew loves to hug and tell me he loves me, so sweet!), amusement (oh my gosh, they’re funny and the older nephew is exploring his gift of humor and testing what makes people laugh), boredom (yes, there are those moments when they’re both engaged in their lessons and I’ve nothing to do but wait), frustration (why can’t I find what I need easily on the school’s website?), fearful (can I handle this?), exhausted (sometimes I almost fall asleep during breaks and I’m not as productive on the weekends), grouchy (side effect of health issues and I try to keep it to myself), joyful (I love these guys!), optimistic and proud (it’s an amazing feeling when you realize they got a concept they were struggling with or are learning how to be students).  

My nephews are blessed to be taking online classes with teachers that are assigned to them, using technology to learn in a world that is technology-driven, with an aunt who loves them sitting next to them giving them tons of attention and love, and a family who loves them and works together to give them the best we can.   

In just a week and a half, I’ve been so challenged and I’ve learned so much about my nephews, my family, teachers, and myself.  I can’t wait to find out what will happen next!

“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.”                                    Ephesians 3:20

We have nowhere to go but up!

My nephews are Nathan and Noah. Nathan is 10 years old and in the 4^th grade. Noah is 7 years old and in the 2^nd grade. They’re both super curious, highly intelligent, funny, loving young men. We’ve been living in the same town a couple of years now and were used to interacting at least weekly.

They were enrolled in a normal brick and mortar school but were having some issues which came to a head halfway through this school year. Their father, my brother Adam, is a single father with full custody. He works full time and spends most of his “leisure” time caring for his sons. He’s a great dad, loving and patient. He had some health issues, so my nephews were staying with my mom, their grandmother. She communicated with the school about the health problems my brother was facing because they were life threatening and it was emotionally traumatic for my nephews.

The school was unhelpful with the situation and called my mom nearly every day to come get one or the other or both for behavior issues. The school has refused to provide any practical assistance with them. My mother got them into counseling. We did the research and decided to remove them from the brick and mortar public school. That’s when we discovered neither was succeeding academically and the older one, Nathan, had straight Fs in every class at the end of the first semester.

Because of my vertigo, I can’t work or drive. I’m in the house all day. Pretty much the only thing that seems to really work is for me to try not to move, so that’s mostly what I’ve done over the past five months. Not who I am. Not who I want to be. I feel the need to work and contribute beyond myself.

I’m trying my hand at being their Learning Coach. Pretty much, I’m a teacher’s aide assigned to the two of them only. They are at my home four days a week to work on their lessons, which are mostly online but with lots of textbooks and workbooks to go with the online curriculum. I’m here to keep them honest, on task, and on target. It’s mostly a sit-down job.

Day #1 turned out much better than anticipated as the laptop which arrived the day before functioned in the way it was designed. I’m technologically inept so this was a huge bonus for me. We’ve had some technological issues. First and foremost is the school supplies one computer per family and we have two students. We didn’t think it would be a problem because the expectation was, they would each spend 30% of their time online. Turns out they spend closer to 100% each online. As the Learning Coach, I also need to get online to check planners, grades, webmail and confirm lesson completions. I’m unable to do this during school time as we each must log in as ourselves. We got the school laptop connected to my printer so both nephews can print when needed. Noah had his first live lesson today; Nathan and I enjoyed laughing at him because he seemed to be talking to himself when he was talking to his teacher. Noah and I were able to post a reply on the teacher’s message board and attach his photo and a sample of his artwork. Nathan and I couldn’t figure it out from the school laptop during school hours today; but we seem to have figured it out shortly afterward. We may or may not have figured out how to scan images to each computer.

Day #2 seemed a little better than day one and day one wasn’t that bad. Yeah, I was tuckered out by noon and laid on the couch resting while they ate lunch and played WII. Noah gave me another dozen or so hugs, just like on day one. Today, Nathan gave me a hug too.

Day #3 seemed to go even better! Nathan didn’t have any emotional outbursts. When I told Nathan I was spending more time sitting next to Noah because he needed extra help; he seemed to understand and accept that explanation. I’m very dismayed at their preparedness to learn. They don’t know how to be students. They don’t want to read or write more than a couple sentences. They want to skip around and guess. They don’t know how to take notes. We have nowhere to go but up!

I’m super grateful to have this opportunity to get to know them better (because they’re delightful!) and to have a positive influence on their lives. I would never have felt able to do this if I was physically able to work. God is good and I’m blessed!

Troll Assault

I met Willie in high school.  I fell hard.  I professed to be a Christian but I didn’t trust God and was doing my own thing while giving God lip service.  Willie wasn’t a Christian.  He asked me to have sex with him.  I thought it over and told God, “I love him and I’m going to marry him so it’s okay for us to have sex now.”
A little while after we began having sex, I got pregnant.  I was terrified.  I told Willie and he said “Okay, let’s get married.”  I told him we were too young.  I miscarried a few days later, so we didn’t marry or even tell anyone about it. 
Willie had taken me to a party out in the desert.  There was a lot of alcohol drinking going on and I’m sure even some drugs.  Willie was drinking.  I don’t remember if I was but I don’t believe my judgment was cloudy if I did drink.  I didn’t start drinking heavily until after the following incident occurred.
Willie was a fighter and someone had told him a fellow student he had a beef was at the party.  Willie told me he was going to have his friend give me a ride home.  I was disappointed but Willie is not the kind of person you argue with. 
Instead of taking me home, Willie’s friend Troll parked in the desert and sexually assaulted me.  During the assault, all I could think about was Willie is going to be so pissed.  I had no idea how to stop it.  Due to childhood sexual abuse, I had no boundaries and no idea that I could say “no” forcefully and perhaps stop what was being done to me.  Part of me believed I deserved it. 
The next night, I told Willie what happened while I cried and cried.  Afterward, I clung to Willie as if my life depended on him. I knew he was the man I would marry.  I knew I would love him until my last breath.
I don’t know what lies Troll told Willie, but Willie and he showed up at my home one night a short time later.  Willie was drunk, banging on my window, and calling me names like “whore” and “slut”.  Troll was standing next to him egging him on.  I was devastated but I didn’t want Willie to get in trouble, so I asked him to leave and told him we could talk when he was sober.  He asked me to come out to talk to him. 
I headed to the front door, but my step-father Dick was standing next to the front door against the wall and he told me to go back to my room.  As I returned to my room, I saw my mom standing in her bedroom door.  I went in my room, went back to my window, and told Willie he needed to leave before my step-father called the police and we could talk the following day.   
I felt like I was a worthless, unlovable failure and I attempted suicide.  My behavior was out of control.  I started drinking all day and night, skipping school, and sleeping around.  My mom sent me to visit my biodad in Georgia, with my sister Tammi.  It was the first time we’d met our biodad. 
A few months later, I heard Willie had been in a motorcycle accident and was severely injured.  I called him and we finally spoke, but he told me he hated me and never wanted to speak to me again and seemed to be planning to commit suicide.
My heart hurt so bad, I pushed the memories and feelings deeply into my subconscious and Willie became a high school crush  who I thought had died after a motorcycle accident. 
I will love Willie until my last breath. 

Another Day in Court

Fergus is an amazing dad. He’s affectionate. He’s in constant teaching mode, using everyday moments to educate his daughters. He shops organic food and feeds them healthy, colorful, tasty food he creates himself from scratch. He takes them on adventures in the outdoors frequently. He maintains extended family relationships. The girls are well cared for emotionally and physically. They are well loved. They want for nothing. For the last year, he has had full physical and legal custody of Amiya, Beatrice and Ariel.

Joanna, his ex, has no job, no home, and seems to have cognitive damage caused by drug use. She’s living in a car someone purchased for her. She has attempted to use manipulation, sex and children to control and coerce Fergus into doing what she desires. However, that has not stopped her from filing an order of protection with the courts alleging Fergus of burglary, theft, and rape. Fergus found out about the order and the allegations when he as at the courthouse researching what he needed to do to ask the court to require mediation for the purpose of determining appropriate, supervised visitation.

He couldn’t tell if he could, legally, have the girls with him. He contacted the police and they told him the order had not been granted and they had an upcoming court date to go over the allegations. A few days later, he’s taking Beatrice to a school Christmas presentation, when Joanna shows up with a police officer who told Fergus the order was granted, and he had to turn custody over. He did. The following day, he turned Ariel over to Joanna.

They had court this week.

Since Ariel’s birth, Fergus and Joanna’s relationship has deteriorated as Joanna realized Fergus is not going to marry her even though they share a child together. Joanna became verbally abusive to my son, she kicked him out and moved their travel trailer to her parent’s property.

In early 2017, Joanna left the girls with her parents and went on a business trip for them to Idaho. She did not return when expected and was missing for months. Joanna was eventually found in a hospital where she’d been put after being discovered along the side of a road, unable to tell anyone who she was or what was wrong with her. This was apparently the result of extensive drug use. While she was missing, her parents refused to allow access to the girls for my son or myself. When I called, they refused to call back and the one or two occasions they did answer, they hung up on me.

Fergus went to court on multiple occasions to get custody of Amiya, Beatrice, and Ariel as Joanna’s parents refused to return them to him. Mr. and Mrs. Hope have not allowed Carmen to have contact with myself, and only limited contact with her sisters. Fergus encouraged contact between the girls and their mother’s extended family. He did not bring kidnapping charges against Mr. and Mrs. Hope when they refused to return his daughters to him, even after ordered to do so by the court.

Joanna eventually returned to California. She was mentally unable to appropriately care for her children. She was living in the travel trailer on her parent’s property. Fergus allowed as much contact between her and the girls as possible, while maintaining their safety. Joanna would contact Fergus and tell him they needed to get together to talk about the girls, he would pick her up and she would refuse to speak to him, sitting in silence as if catatonic for hours in restaurants, on his couch, and even on the sidewalk in front of his residence. During this time, she sent me a letter of apology with artwork from my granddaughters telling me she would call. She thanked me for my son and told me she loved me. She never called and when I sent a reply, it was returned undeliverable.

Joanna took off again in 2018 to go to treatment in another state. She only recently returned to California. Both times Joanna disappeared for lengthy periods of time, she left no way for her daughters to maintain contact with her.

Fergus has tried to treat Joanna with dignity and respect, and even gave her financial support he didn’t owe her. He put a deposit on a motel room, so Joanna had a place to stay since her parents have her ex living in the trailer on their property and aren’t willing to have her live in their home.

Joanna appeared at court unprepared and the judge granted her a continuance even though Fergus was ready with his evidence. Their next court date isn’t for about 3 weeks.

First Love

It was the summer between my Freshman and Sophomore years of high school. I was working at the Tax Department at the County Treasurer’s office. I was walking across the parking lot to enter the back door and saw a co-worker Mary standing next to a little pickup truck talking to the cutest guy I’d even seen. Our eyes met and I was spellbound.

I discovered later he was her stepson William and he had asked her for my phone number. I gave it to her and he called me. The first phone call was excruciating for me, I was so nervous and tongue tied. He asked me out and I agreed. He took me dancing. I still remember the blue dress I borrowed from my mom.

I was a shy teen who didn’t believe I had any value. I had secrets. I was socially awkward and uncomfortable. I believed I was ugly and unlovable. I was convinced everything I did was somehow wrong.

He was so handsome and confident. Tall, muscular, dark hair and eyes, a contagious laugh, smart, an intense personality, and confident. I watched the way this 19 year old man interacted with adults, as if they were equals; and it totally amazed me. He was fearless. 

He rode a motorcycle and my parents wouldn’t allow me to ride it, so we’d agree on a time and meet on the next street over to go riding. I loved having my arms around him but was always thinking I was not a good passenger.

We continued to date after school started again. I was a Sophomore, he was a Senior. He had a reputation as a bad boy but people loved him. He got into a lot of fistfights and I even saw him call a teacher outside to fight. He hollowed out a textbook and collected cash donations from schoolmates to pay for alcohol at class parties.

At the time, our high school was an open campus and we would go to Sonic often. He’d order a meal, I’d order tater tots. We’d talk and talk and talk. He always shared a few fries with the birds. I didn’t eat much in front of him because I was afraid he would think I chewed gross or something. I also thought I was fat. I can remember seeing the motion of the truck make my thighs jiggle and being embarrassed he might notice. I weighed 97 pounds then. Good grief!

He made me feel special.

He was always a gentleman with me. He would walk me to class and carry my books. We were always kissing. This led to one of the two times I was called to the office. The school decided a new rule was needed which forbade students from kissing on school property. We got caught by the assistant principal, Mr. Showalter, and were called into his office. He threatened to expel us and Willie told him that would be okay because then we’d have more time to kiss. He sent us to class with a warning.

My German class entered a float in the Homecoming parade and we decorated it as a Panzer tank. Willie loaned me his camouflage hunting clothes to wear on the float. After the parade, we went to his house to shower and change before going to the Homecoming dance. He loved to dance and was good at it, I felt gangly and uncoordinated so I’d only dance slow with him.

Willie was my first love and the first person I chose to give myself to. It was delightful while it lasted.