Nether World or Children’s Folly
I dressed up like a witch Halloween night and didn't feel the least bit evil. No I was not attired to howl at the moon nor was I going to mix a magic potion, I was on a journey. A journey through the world of a child's wildest imagination.
Some dressed as pirates, gypsies, babies, queens and some just dressed as dads. We parked our trick-or-treat mobile in front of a perfect strangers house and began the journey.
As we neared the first turn in the street a stranger approached us and we were not afraid. Had it been any other night we would have reached for our keys or screamed for someone to call 911. She just stopped us to apologize for not being home to give us our treats but if we would come back in twenty minutes she would be there. You see she was with her son trick-or-treating too. A single women for a walk to strangers houses on a dark street? That's just unheard of in this day and age. Oh, what a wicked night Halloween is!
Halloween is the only time of year that children loose their fear of and momentarily forget the creatures of the night. Creatures we call poverty, sadness, disease, fear;etc.
They courageously walk up to a stranger's door and know that a friendly face is waiting to greet them on the other side. A complete stranger finding delight in seeing the joy on children's faces. How can that be evil. The rules are really simple,too. If you don't want to play just leave your porch light off. The children will understand.
Halloween is the only time of year that children are allowed to pretend to be their greatest heroes or become and overcome their greatest fears. Halloween! Nether World or Children's Folly?
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Journal of a Divorce because the will to love fights a hard battle
Journal of a Divorce
10:30 p.m. April 29, 1993
I had originally planned to use this journal in the vein that it was given; love. However after the last few days I have been through I must use it to relieve the pain of being in a situation of no escape. Yet I know I cannot stay. I am afraid all the time. I never know when he is going to loose control or who is going to get hurt or what will be damaged.
Tonight as I watched him spill his drink down his shirt and his soup in his lap he told one of the most influential men from my company to kick his dog in the head I knew there was no way to live with this indignity.-- I cannot count the times that he has acted that way in front of people I work with. Such potential yet no ambition. I don't understand. My heart breaks to see this gentle man turn into a staggering fool. There is nothing left but for me and the girls to go it on our own from here. I know of no other way.
April 30,1993
I tell him what he did and he only looks at me bewildered He doesn't even remember. God help me. He doesn't remember trying to punch me when I took his keys. He doesn't know why his knuckles are busted and bruised.
July 27,1993
Oh God. I filed a restraining order against my husband today. Why did he have to turn on the girls. I was working out of town for the day. Why couldn't he wait for me to get home. He could have beat me instead of hitting a little girl. The whole neighborhood knows he is an abuser and I am an idiot. I thought since I stood up to him he would stop. He only backed off me to start on the girls and when he finished he scared them into not telling me about his abuse and rage. How many times have I thought they were safe when they really were not. Will I ever know.
July 28, 1993
Only graphite and lined page before me and my heart dripping in my hand. How will I ever make it through this? The restraining order in effect only 24 hours and I feel like I could die. How do I feed them? How do I pay the bills?
August 15, 1993
I will be 32 years old tomorrow. Tomorrow I take my husband, lover, father to my children to court. This is supposed to be a joyful time yet the birthdays that I can remember Elvis died I had a hysterectomy my husband tried to kill me with a pistol and I am taking my husband to court.
August 16, 1993
Dressed like a bankers wife I meet my attorney- look my husband in the eye, tell the judge he put a gun to my head and abused my children- Happy Birthday- Not a good place to be on your birthday is it the judge ask.
His mom and dad don't seem to be able to understand. What else could I do?
August 19, 1993
Soul searching is the hardest thing in the world to do when the shadows of the past run a muck. You never know whose eyes you can trust to be true. Casualties of my life's war fall in the darkened alleyway and I still have to face another day. The freedom of truth cost dearly as the friendly eyes of the present swell with the secret tears of the past. I have to face yet another day of churning as the predictability of human nature rings true.
I would have understood if he had told me he was having a hard time dealing with my being sick so he had an affair. But when he said it was because I was not there for him I was heartbroken. I was not there for him because I was bedridden for 3 months with meningitis.
August 20, 1993
Nancy, Donna, Debbie my saving grace, all just listen and try to help as best they can. I don't know what help I need. Nothing will make the pain of loosing the love of my life go away.
August 24,1993
Boxes, Boxes in a stack filled with emotions and things I lack. Afraid of the answers, not knowing the questions, searching the soul for lost reflections. Where do I stop to find the truth, Why does it hurt so much, Why do I flinch at his tender touch. Curled in a ball, embryo. Revealing the time when I didn't know all the pain this world can hold. Boxes, boxes deeper still looking for truths I may never fill. Boxes, boxes everywhere, the covers taped, the covers sealed. If I don't get away from him everything that I am will be destroyed.
August 26,1993
Time passes so quickly as summer turns to fall and the autumn winds bring rain. Will we ever survive the evening storms of a marriage gone haywire?
1st appointment at Legal Aid
Tattered carpet on the floor to match no 'welcome mat' at the door. What is broken besides the box of toys in the corner? Me, I'm broke, 12 dollars to my name, name that isn't even mine. My marriage broken a very long time. Legal aid is free if you qualify and have time to wait I've gone from 60 thousand a year to broke with one swift punch. I've waited twelve years for this madness to end. Divorce nine months from start to finish. Longer that my courtship, harder than death, same as dying, feel like crying, children drifting, thoughts slipping. Why did it take so long? Because the will to love fights a hard battle. My stomach aches, I taste blood as my heart breaks.
August 27,1993
I've hung out a shingle, HANDY MAN SPECIAL: Single mother of four; lonesome, afraid, broke. Broken spirit, broken heart? How do I mend this?
August 29, 1993
The hard is what makes it great-if it wasn't hard everyone would do it. (I just might make it after all) Will he ever know how I felt all those years and does it really matter. I know how I feel now; I am better and get stronger each day.
Oct 1,1993
He got DUI today. His true colors surface for the world to see as I stop running block for him. You’re on your own from here on out big boy. Can't blame me anymore.
I can't light your path for you anymore. I must go before I loose myself in the shadows of your journey. The trail you choose to follow has started to grow over with vines of pain, slowly choking me. My soul blood runs free from the scrapes from the vine's thorns and I am becoming weak. I know I must flee and mend my wounds before I slip into unconsciousness. The edge of your darkness is far to craggy for me to balance and I find myself about to topple over the edge. I wish you God-speed and safe passage but you must go it alone without me from here. The voyage you must take from here is filled with too many sea dragons cresting with the tide and I have had to slay too many for you already.
January 6, 1995
I look back at my writing and realize how far I have come and it is wonderful and exciting. I am no longer afraid of the things that go bump in the night or anothers caress. I'm going to be ok.
January 12,1995
He said once that no one had ever taken care of me the way he had and no one ever would. He's right! I can do it better and I will. My four little angel girls adjusting well to the peace of consistency and schedules. We will be fine in spite of him and his thinking that a mother of four, on chemotherapy with only GED can't make it without him.
30,1993
10:30 p.m. April 29, 1993
I had originally planned to use this journal in the vein that it was given; love. However after the last few days I have been through I must use it to relieve the pain of being in a situation of no escape. Yet I know I cannot stay. I am afraid all the time. I never know when he is going to loose control or who is going to get hurt or what will be damaged.
Tonight as I watched him spill his drink down his shirt and his soup in his lap he told one of the most influential men from my company to kick his dog in the head I knew there was no way to live with this indignity.-- I cannot count the times that he has acted that way in front of people I work with. Such potential yet no ambition. I don't understand. My heart breaks to see this gentle man turn into a staggering fool. There is nothing left but for me and the girls to go it on our own from here. I know of no other way.
April 30,1993
I tell him what he did and he only looks at me bewildered He doesn't even remember. God help me. He doesn't remember trying to punch me when I took his keys. He doesn't know why his knuckles are busted and bruised.
July 27,1993
Oh God. I filed a restraining order against my husband today. Why did he have to turn on the girls. I was working out of town for the day. Why couldn't he wait for me to get home. He could have beat me instead of hitting a little girl. The whole neighborhood knows he is an abuser and I am an idiot. I thought since I stood up to him he would stop. He only backed off me to start on the girls and when he finished he scared them into not telling me about his abuse and rage. How many times have I thought they were safe when they really were not. Will I ever know.
July 28, 1993
Only graphite and lined page before me and my heart dripping in my hand. How will I ever make it through this? The restraining order in effect only 24 hours and I feel like I could die. How do I feed them? How do I pay the bills?
August 15, 1993
I will be 32 years old tomorrow. Tomorrow I take my husband, lover, father to my children to court. This is supposed to be a joyful time yet the birthdays that I can remember Elvis died I had a hysterectomy my husband tried to kill me with a pistol and I am taking my husband to court.
August 16, 1993
Dressed like a bankers wife I meet my attorney- look my husband in the eye, tell the judge he put a gun to my head and abused my children- Happy Birthday- Not a good place to be on your birthday is it the judge ask.
His mom and dad don't seem to be able to understand. What else could I do?
August 19, 1993
Soul searching is the hardest thing in the world to do when the shadows of the past run a muck. You never know whose eyes you can trust to be true. Casualties of my life's war fall in the darkened alleyway and I still have to face another day. The freedom of truth cost dearly as the friendly eyes of the present swell with the secret tears of the past. I have to face yet another day of churning as the predictability of human nature rings true.
I would have understood if he had told me he was having a hard time dealing with my being sick so he had an affair. But when he said it was because I was not there for him I was heartbroken. I was not there for him because I was bedridden for 3 months with meningitis.
August 20, 1993
Nancy, Donna, Debbie my saving grace, all just listen and try to help as best they can. I don't know what help I need. Nothing will make the pain of loosing the love of my life go away.
August 24,1993
Boxes, Boxes in a stack filled with emotions and things I lack. Afraid of the answers, not knowing the questions, searching the soul for lost reflections. Where do I stop to find the truth, Why does it hurt so much, Why do I flinch at his tender touch. Curled in a ball, embryo. Revealing the time when I didn't know all the pain this world can hold. Boxes, boxes deeper still looking for truths I may never fill. Boxes, boxes everywhere, the covers taped, the covers sealed. If I don't get away from him everything that I am will be destroyed.
August 26,1993
Time passes so quickly as summer turns to fall and the autumn winds bring rain. Will we ever survive the evening storms of a marriage gone haywire?
1st appointment at Legal Aid
Tattered carpet on the floor to match no 'welcome mat' at the door. What is broken besides the box of toys in the corner? Me, I'm broke, 12 dollars to my name, name that isn't even mine. My marriage broken a very long time. Legal aid is free if you qualify and have time to wait I've gone from 60 thousand a year to broke with one swift punch. I've waited twelve years for this madness to end. Divorce nine months from start to finish. Longer that my courtship, harder than death, same as dying, feel like crying, children drifting, thoughts slipping. Why did it take so long? Because the will to love fights a hard battle. My stomach aches, I taste blood as my heart breaks.
August 27,1993
I've hung out a shingle, HANDY MAN SPECIAL: Single mother of four; lonesome, afraid, broke. Broken spirit, broken heart? How do I mend this?
August 29, 1993
The hard is what makes it great-if it wasn't hard everyone would do it. (I just might make it after all) Will he ever know how I felt all those years and does it really matter. I know how I feel now; I am better and get stronger each day.
Oct 1,1993
He got DUI today. His true colors surface for the world to see as I stop running block for him. You’re on your own from here on out big boy. Can't blame me anymore.
I can't light your path for you anymore. I must go before I loose myself in the shadows of your journey. The trail you choose to follow has started to grow over with vines of pain, slowly choking me. My soul blood runs free from the scrapes from the vine's thorns and I am becoming weak. I know I must flee and mend my wounds before I slip into unconsciousness. The edge of your darkness is far to craggy for me to balance and I find myself about to topple over the edge. I wish you God-speed and safe passage but you must go it alone without me from here. The voyage you must take from here is filled with too many sea dragons cresting with the tide and I have had to slay too many for you already.
January 6, 1995
I look back at my writing and realize how far I have come and it is wonderful and exciting. I am no longer afraid of the things that go bump in the night or anothers caress. I'm going to be ok.
January 12,1995
He said once that no one had ever taken care of me the way he had and no one ever would. He's right! I can do it better and I will. My four little angel girls adjusting well to the peace of consistency and schedules. We will be fine in spite of him and his thinking that a mother of four, on chemotherapy with only GED can't make it without him.
30,1993
Life, as with nature, has many seasons.
IGLOOS
Life, as with nature, has many seasons. Some as torrential as the Arctic storms yet others as calming as spring rain. When faced by the bitter winds of an arctic storm our natural instinct is to build an igloo and retreat until the spring rains begin to thaw the cold.. Our God-given instinct tells us to find shelter within ourselves so as not to become as bitter the winter winds. Occasionally, we venture outside to find snow drifts camouflaging our path, forcing our retreat into the comfort of our icy shelter, to ponder the soul’s mysteries. However, seasons do recede with time's passing and the dandelion shoots of spring find their way through the frozen earth. All are challenged to begin anew by the bursting colors mysterious rebirth. The dormant stage of introspect and hibernation are necessary for new growth and rejuvenation in every species. Everything passes through it's own season of bitter cold. It is those who build the strongest shelter and prepare for the next budding of green or onslaught of frigid winds who are the great facilitators. These are the story tellers of old that dare to take the chance of pondering the universe. These are the ones who dare to challenge the turbulence of time and energy of spirit, all searching for completion. These know the truths that are as enduring as the four seasons yet just as mysterious. They seek the quizzical answers of truth because the answers are the definition of the question. The beginning is the end and the beginning. bfc jan '95
Life, as with nature, has many seasons. Some as torrential as the Arctic storms yet others as calming as spring rain. When faced by the bitter winds of an arctic storm our natural instinct is to build an igloo and retreat until the spring rains begin to thaw the cold.. Our God-given instinct tells us to find shelter within ourselves so as not to become as bitter the winter winds. Occasionally, we venture outside to find snow drifts camouflaging our path, forcing our retreat into the comfort of our icy shelter, to ponder the soul’s mysteries. However, seasons do recede with time's passing and the dandelion shoots of spring find their way through the frozen earth. All are challenged to begin anew by the bursting colors mysterious rebirth. The dormant stage of introspect and hibernation are necessary for new growth and rejuvenation in every species. Everything passes through it's own season of bitter cold. It is those who build the strongest shelter and prepare for the next budding of green or onslaught of frigid winds who are the great facilitators. These are the story tellers of old that dare to take the chance of pondering the universe. These are the ones who dare to challenge the turbulence of time and energy of spirit, all searching for completion. These know the truths that are as enduring as the four seasons yet just as mysterious. They seek the quizzical answers of truth because the answers are the definition of the question. The beginning is the end and the beginning. bfc jan '95
GROUCHY NEIGHBORS
I have the grouchiest old neighbor you could ever imagine. Sometimes late at night when I'm just settling down to sleep he starts throwing rocks at my house.
This may sound crazy but the attacks make my whole body hurt sometimes. I don't know why he picked me to live beside. I like to think it is because I'm special.
Now, you would think that a grouchy neighbor, that also happens to be old, would go to bed early, but this one keeps strange hours.
From time to time the authorities have been called in and warnings have been issued, but he is an ornery old cuss. He has been bothering people since 1957 but he will just not go away. He's just a bit eccentric and no one knows where he came from or how to make him go away. They just know that the pressure he has put on neighbors in the past is sometimes deadly. The only thing that can stop his deadly aggravation is a sense of humor and a positive way of looking at things.
I need to rectify my ramblings just a bit so a clearer picture of my neighbor can be seen. You see I have a syndrome called Behcet's Syndrome.
I believe that everything in life must contain a gift or we would not otherwise be involved in the situation. The way I deal with this disease is the same way I would deal with a grumpy old neighbor.
I smile and leave cookies on his doorstep and just try and be polite. My syndrome and I just happen to have chosen the same neighborhood as my body to live in and we have learned to get along.
This may sound crazy but the attacks make my whole body hurt sometimes. I don't know why he picked me to live beside. I like to think it is because I'm special.
Now, you would think that a grouchy neighbor, that also happens to be old, would go to bed early, but this one keeps strange hours.
From time to time the authorities have been called in and warnings have been issued, but he is an ornery old cuss. He has been bothering people since 1957 but he will just not go away. He's just a bit eccentric and no one knows where he came from or how to make him go away. They just know that the pressure he has put on neighbors in the past is sometimes deadly. The only thing that can stop his deadly aggravation is a sense of humor and a positive way of looking at things.
I need to rectify my ramblings just a bit so a clearer picture of my neighbor can be seen. You see I have a syndrome called Behcet's Syndrome.
I believe that everything in life must contain a gift or we would not otherwise be involved in the situation. The way I deal with this disease is the same way I would deal with a grumpy old neighbor.
I smile and leave cookies on his doorstep and just try and be polite. My syndrome and I just happen to have chosen the same neighborhood as my body to live in and we have learned to get along.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Dragons
Dragons
Seems I have sailed a thousand seas
with dragons cresting with each tide;
Yet now my dreams are revealed
as he slumbers at my side.
His hands are calloused from his toil
to build a life for himself;
Yet never seeing in his path
four daughters and a wife.
His calloused hands gently soothe
our scars that fight to heal;
and all we ever hoped and prayed for
is becoming real.
Restless in his slumber
because I toss and turn;
seems I can't slow long enough
to grasp what he has learned.
So much for each to teach the other
and yet I can't slow my pace,
trying to catch up with him
and earn my rightful place.
He promises all the things
I once believe I deserved,
but somewhere along the way
I seemed to have lost my nerve.
Fear abounds where joy should be
and I stand weeping in my hands,
praying God gives him the wisdom
to somehow understand.
Bludgeoned by life, we five,
have somehow stood strong
and yet we weep far beneath
and wonder what we did wrong.
Such an undertaking, surely God
has shown,
yet I still fear for you;
the only love I've ever known.
Lord lift this heavy burden
and set me free so that we become
the family he dreamed about
all those years alone.
AMEN
Seems I have sailed a thousand seas
with dragons cresting with each tide;
Yet now my dreams are revealed
as he slumbers at my side.
His hands are calloused from his toil
to build a life for himself;
Yet never seeing in his path
four daughters and a wife.
His calloused hands gently soothe
our scars that fight to heal;
and all we ever hoped and prayed for
is becoming real.
Restless in his slumber
because I toss and turn;
seems I can't slow long enough
to grasp what he has learned.
So much for each to teach the other
and yet I can't slow my pace,
trying to catch up with him
and earn my rightful place.
He promises all the things
I once believe I deserved,
but somewhere along the way
I seemed to have lost my nerve.
Fear abounds where joy should be
and I stand weeping in my hands,
praying God gives him the wisdom
to somehow understand.
Bludgeoned by life, we five,
have somehow stood strong
and yet we weep far beneath
and wonder what we did wrong.
Such an undertaking, surely God
has shown,
yet I still fear for you;
the only love I've ever known.
Lord lift this heavy burden
and set me free so that we become
the family he dreamed about
all those years alone.
AMEN
THE OTHER SIDE OF CREATION
How far is the other side of creation? Oh, but a stones throw away through the eyes of a child. Children view God's creation through the windows of their soul, appreciate His power in the blooming of a daisy, see the wildflowers as His easel and the sea His greatest venture. Through the eyes of a child you see God's miracles performed as the potholes of life are transformed into wading pools and the skinned knees of it all just practicing for the great balancing act of life. Through the eyes of a child you dare to examine the pain a worm may suffer when you put it on hook to fish and then use dough-balls for bait forever after. You are ask to ponder the distance of God's stride as he walks from mountain top to mountain top and what it really means to be reborn. Take a child by the hand and get down on your knees, look through the windows of their soul and capture just a glimpse of the other side of creation!
Monday, November 3, 2008
Being
Being
Mama went to the little country doctor, in a small town in Northwest Georgia with a heaviness in her soul. She was 5 weeks early and it was far too soon. As the doctor examined her he ask, "When do you want to have this baby" and she answered simply "When it's time." She felt a small prick and a gush of water as the doctor said, "I'm sorry but if we don't go now you and the baby both will die." She was rushed into the city to deliver her second born. I was born in the wee hours of August 16, 1961 to a little family already of 3 to a mother who yearned for a daughter when everyone else condemned her for getting pregnant. She mourned for the little girl child the doctors said would probably be a still birth that how survived it through the first humid night of Indian summer.The doctors gave my mother cautious hope as she took me home from the hospital with a prayer of "Just give me one more day with her" hanging heavy in her heart.When I made it through the first week and then the first month the doctors were surprised to learn that my grandfather had bought a milk-goat to milk every day for me. My grandmother added corn syrup to every bottle as my grandfather carried me on a pillow because I cried to be touched. My mother told me that she would find Papa in his rocking chair, with my tiny body resting on a pillow on his lap as tears rolled down his face. He quietly whispered to my grandmother, 'It's gonna die" even refusing to call me by my name so as not to hold my spirit on earth too long after the inevitable happened. How could he know that his attention helped me thrive? How could he know that even at such a young age I had begun to trust him, Nannie and Mama to protect me?As I developed though the I searched for Mamma and Nannie's faces in every crowded room as relatives began to come to see the baby that wasn't supposed to be. All of these stimuli simply helped me and Mama betray the doctor's words as I began to thrive.As I began to development I was a storm of busy hands that could have every radio, heater and windshield wiper turn on and back in my carrier before Mama could get into the car. I tasted everything including dirt then denied the little taste. I searched Mama's purse knowing for sure that she had an endless supply of Wrigley Juicy-fruit Gum.I spent hours into the night searching the creek beds for craw fish and water moccasins that I would proudly take home with no understanding of fear. That is until the day I brought a copper head home hanging gently between my fingers as a gift for Mama. She explained that I was only seven and just because I had seen Jim Fowler on Mutual of Omaha's Wild kingdom pick up poisonous snakes did not mean I could do it. So after that I just moved them from the path of cars or hungry, searching hawks.My earliest concrete memory is when Mama brought my baby sister Beth home from the hospital. She was my first baby as Mama was so sick and Daddy worked away from home through. I adored her as if I were her real mama. To this day I still call her "Baby".Unfortunately this innocence was soon betrayed by a trusted neighbor who had a small rabbit hutch. I was only five when he lured me in the first time. Holding a baby rabbit in his fingers as it wriggled and squealed to be free he took out his red handkerchief and unzipped his pants. He only had to squeeze the baby a little to make it scream and as he did he put himself into my mouth. He quietly whispered that my sister Beth was as sweet as that BABY as he relieved his perversion and stripped me of my hope. After it was over he would clean me up with his red handkerchief and hand me the damp, trembling baby. I ran through the woods clutching the baby to my chest so it would stop shaking and hoping that maybe my heart would stop trembling as well. Thank God I was 12 when he stopped only because I figured out how to come up with excuses not to go. However, my way to not go was simply to go somewhere else and still very innocent in my soul. Because I didn't have a car I rode with anyone that would let me ride just so I didn't have to be at home. Unfortunately that didn't keep me safe and I was raped when I was 14. After that I sort of lost my way as well as my mind. I married the first older man that would marry me at the age of 15.I moved as far away as I could and began trying to be an adult with the scars of an injured baby rabbit. I divorced him at 18 when I should have been graduating high school.I moved to Florida at the age of 21 with my 3 year old daughter and a great deal of confusion and hopelessness in my heart. I quickly married and had 3 more daughters before I was 25 and they became my world. I lived for them encouraged and protected them. I was determined to not let anything happen to their childhood as it had to mine. I spent my young adulthood making cookies, being a Girl Scout Mom and PTA president. At 32 I was divorced and on my own yet again. At the same time I had the full responsibility of 4 little girls to During that same year I was officially diagnosed with an immune disorder called Behcet's Disease which is found in only 15,000 people in the United States. The doctors assured me it was not hereditary or contagious. However, they had not found it soon enough and I only had a 35% chance of living out the year. That was in 1992 and they were wrong. Now that the years are upon me I am forever searching for ways to give back to a world that allowed me to live despite all obstacles. I volunteer with teens in crisis. I mentor students on campus. I pursue a degree in social work in hopes of giving back a bit of understanding and encouragement that I seem to be blessed with.
Mama went to the little country doctor, in a small town in Northwest Georgia with a heaviness in her soul. She was 5 weeks early and it was far too soon. As the doctor examined her he ask, "When do you want to have this baby" and she answered simply "When it's time." She felt a small prick and a gush of water as the doctor said, "I'm sorry but if we don't go now you and the baby both will die." She was rushed into the city to deliver her second born. I was born in the wee hours of August 16, 1961 to a little family already of 3 to a mother who yearned for a daughter when everyone else condemned her for getting pregnant. She mourned for the little girl child the doctors said would probably be a still birth that how survived it through the first humid night of Indian summer.The doctors gave my mother cautious hope as she took me home from the hospital with a prayer of "Just give me one more day with her" hanging heavy in her heart.When I made it through the first week and then the first month the doctors were surprised to learn that my grandfather had bought a milk-goat to milk every day for me. My grandmother added corn syrup to every bottle as my grandfather carried me on a pillow because I cried to be touched. My mother told me that she would find Papa in his rocking chair, with my tiny body resting on a pillow on his lap as tears rolled down his face. He quietly whispered to my grandmother, 'It's gonna die" even refusing to call me by my name so as not to hold my spirit on earth too long after the inevitable happened. How could he know that his attention helped me thrive? How could he know that even at such a young age I had begun to trust him, Nannie and Mama to protect me?As I developed though the I searched for Mamma and Nannie's faces in every crowded room as relatives began to come to see the baby that wasn't supposed to be. All of these stimuli simply helped me and Mama betray the doctor's words as I began to thrive.As I began to development I was a storm of busy hands that could have every radio, heater and windshield wiper turn on and back in my carrier before Mama could get into the car. I tasted everything including dirt then denied the little taste. I searched Mama's purse knowing for sure that she had an endless supply of Wrigley Juicy-fruit Gum.I spent hours into the night searching the creek beds for craw fish and water moccasins that I would proudly take home with no understanding of fear. That is until the day I brought a copper head home hanging gently between my fingers as a gift for Mama. She explained that I was only seven and just because I had seen Jim Fowler on Mutual of Omaha's Wild kingdom pick up poisonous snakes did not mean I could do it. So after that I just moved them from the path of cars or hungry, searching hawks.My earliest concrete memory is when Mama brought my baby sister Beth home from the hospital. She was my first baby as Mama was so sick and Daddy worked away from home through. I adored her as if I were her real mama. To this day I still call her "Baby".Unfortunately this innocence was soon betrayed by a trusted neighbor who had a small rabbit hutch. I was only five when he lured me in the first time. Holding a baby rabbit in his fingers as it wriggled and squealed to be free he took out his red handkerchief and unzipped his pants. He only had to squeeze the baby a little to make it scream and as he did he put himself into my mouth. He quietly whispered that my sister Beth was as sweet as that BABY as he relieved his perversion and stripped me of my hope. After it was over he would clean me up with his red handkerchief and hand me the damp, trembling baby. I ran through the woods clutching the baby to my chest so it would stop shaking and hoping that maybe my heart would stop trembling as well. Thank God I was 12 when he stopped only because I figured out how to come up with excuses not to go. However, my way to not go was simply to go somewhere else and still very innocent in my soul. Because I didn't have a car I rode with anyone that would let me ride just so I didn't have to be at home. Unfortunately that didn't keep me safe and I was raped when I was 14. After that I sort of lost my way as well as my mind. I married the first older man that would marry me at the age of 15.I moved as far away as I could and began trying to be an adult with the scars of an injured baby rabbit. I divorced him at 18 when I should have been graduating high school.I moved to Florida at the age of 21 with my 3 year old daughter and a great deal of confusion and hopelessness in my heart. I quickly married and had 3 more daughters before I was 25 and they became my world. I lived for them encouraged and protected them. I was determined to not let anything happen to their childhood as it had to mine. I spent my young adulthood making cookies, being a Girl Scout Mom and PTA president. At 32 I was divorced and on my own yet again. At the same time I had the full responsibility of 4 little girls to During that same year I was officially diagnosed with an immune disorder called Behcet's Disease which is found in only 15,000 people in the United States. The doctors assured me it was not hereditary or contagious. However, they had not found it soon enough and I only had a 35% chance of living out the year. That was in 1992 and they were wrong. Now that the years are upon me I am forever searching for ways to give back to a world that allowed me to live despite all obstacles. I volunteer with teens in crisis. I mentor students on campus. I pursue a degree in social work in hopes of giving back a bit of understanding and encouragement that I seem to be blessed with.
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