MOMMY, ARE YOU OKAY?

"One of the most difficult things for me, with Jason is his total fear whenever I even so much as leave a room." I was back in Marlin's office. Talking about the assault on Jason the week before had taken its toll on me. It had absolutely crippled me mentally and emotionally.

Marlin nodded, "It's not surprising. He's totally dependent on you. You are the center of his world - you and his sister. And he picks up on your anxieties. How have you done this past week?"

"I've been depressed. Tired. Headaches. Nauseated. Unable to focus. It seems all I can do is hug my kids."

"Why do you think that is?"

"Because everything is black. There's no light. I'm a terrible mother; I would rather die than hurt my babies."

"You're not a terrible mother. You're just a woman who is trying to find her way; a woman who loves her children. Before we go on, I want you to get an idea of what you are battling. So let's talk about anxieties today. I think you need to understand them a little better."

"Anxieties?"

"Mmmhmmm." He nodded.

"My anxieties? I thought I was just having mood swings from, you know, female stuff."

"Well, that can contribute a lot, but it's more than just physiological. And there's medication to help with it."

"Lithium?"

"Yes."

"No."

Marlin's eyebrows lifted in surprise? "Very decisive!"

"It's the death dirge for employment. Not only do they ask about mental conditions, applications ask if a person is taking Litium. It immediately brands a person as unstable and unfit. With that on my employment record I might as well forget about having a job." 

"Well, you certainly don't have to take it. I can see why you wouldn't want to."

I relaxed a bit. At least I could ward off the stigma of "crazy" for awhile. 

And so began my lessons in understanding the labyrinth of mental, emotional and physical stresses. Below is a study of anxiety disorder. What I learned that day is that all my "symptoms" were just that - symptoms of anxiety disorder. I began to understand what I was dealing with, and over the course of several months Marlin would mentor me in recognizing, controlling and living with my anxieties.

Be anxious for nothing..

Anxiety is a normal state of dread, tension and unease. It is considered a normal response to stress or uncertain situations. Prolonged or intense periods of anxiety may suggest an anxiety disorder.

  

The most common types of anxiety disorders are:

• Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)
• Panic disorder
• Obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD)
• Social anxiety disorder
• Attention deficit disorder (ADD)

Causes of anxiety disorders may include (but not limited to):

• Response to stress
• Drugs, including nicotine, alcohol, caffeine
• Brain chemistry imbalance
• Personality 
• Phobias (faulty, irrational thinking)

 

People with anxiety disorders may experience the following:

• Sense of danger
• Worry
• Dread
• Fear
• Panic
• Restlessness
• Irritability
• Impatience
• Trouble concentrating
• Overcompensating affection
• Intense need for reassurance 

Anxiety disorders may cause physical problems:

• Dry mouth
• Rapid/irregular heartbeat
• Muscle tension
• Shortness of breath
• Light headed/fainting
• Shaking
• Choking sensation
• Sleep deprivation
• Nausea
• Vomiting
• Constipation or diarrhea
• Nail biting
• Frequent urination
• Flushed in face
• Nail biting
• Itching and scratching, other habitual behavior

Mentally, I did a "check, check, check - yes, check.."

Marlin smiled, "You're a chronic nail biter, you know. And you never sit still."

"Yes. I hate it. I've tried everything to stop."

"But it's a relief valve, somewhat like a pressure cooker. It helps to keep you from totally falling apart. But I want you to remember, this is a disorder. And we want to get to the bottom of all that has caused this in your life, and help you to learn to control it, instead of it controlling you."

"And Jason and Wynter, how seriously will this affect them?"

"Actually quite a lot, but you can't be blaming yourself everyday. You can't handle something you know nothing about. Somewhere you have to give yourself a little latitude. You can begin from here. The important think is how much you love your children. They will always know that. They may not always understand you, but they will know."

I sighed, then sighed again. "I wish."

"We'll work through this together," he said. 

"It seems like an awful lot."

"That's because it is." 

Psalm 46:10 Be still, and know that I am God! I am exalted among the nations, I am exalted in the earth.

 

Psalm 127:2 It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives sleep to his beloved.

 

Proverbs 19:8 To get wisdom is to love oneself; to keep understanding is to prosper.

 

EVEN WONDER WOMAN NEEDS TO REGROUP!

After writing the last chapter about my son, Jason I found I needed several days to regroup. It was so painful writing that chapter. Such a short amount of space and words to cover something that affected so many people, for such a long period of time.

The emotional upheaval still amazes me, even though 30 plus years have passed. I don't know why it should amaze me, as I have battled for nearly 69 years those events of my childhood which perpetrated disaster for me. I suppose the amazement comes because it is more than I can bear to think of the things my son went through.

And even more than that, because some of this was directed at my daughter, Wynter that same time. She has talked with me about it over the years, and has expressed that it was not nearly so bad as what happened with Jason, but she was there. She was terrified. And she didn't understand anything, because she was so young. 

Jason has told me his only thought was to "get through it and protect Wynter", because she had been threatened, and that the pain blocked out everything else.

The boy who committed this outrage discussed this with me in recently. He remembers none of it. It brings him to tears, and sickens him. All he remembers is being in a terrible rage, an uncontrollable rage. We have talked about what caused that rage.. what triggered these terrible events. He received counseling for a short period of time, but could recall nothing. He was eventually moved, at his request to live with his mother, and finished school with her. She helped him recover from the pain and anger which resulted from living with his father and stepmother. Even so, there is a lengthy period of time in his juvenile years which are total blanks to him.

My pain over this event was multiplied a hundred fold when I struck my son. It still pierces my heart to think of it. Yes, I was a parent who believed in spanking (how could you grow up in the 40's and 50's without believing in spanking?). There is a fine line, and a tricky balance when it comes to discipline; something we all have to learn in parenting. This is not the same as striking out the way I did with Jason. And I understand how it came about, but it was incomprehensible to me what I had done. It was immediate! I was shocked! I was horrified! But I couldn't take it back.

 

In the end, each of us who have been involved with this can only go to the Lord for comfort and healing. Each of us loves the Lord, and serves the Lord. It is in finding the way to forgiveness that we can at last understand how to be forgiven, and forgiving. 

That is all I can say about this, at least at this time.

In Christ alone I put my trust, 

and I find comfort in the shelter of the cross.

In every victory, let it be said of me: 

my source of hope, my source of help

is Christ alone.

YOU AND ME AGAINST THE WORLD

"How old was Jason, when he parented you this way?" Marlin wanted to know.

"He did it more than once, actually. He began talking when he was nine months old. By the time he was two, he was pretty serious about seeing that I was doing okay."

Marlin nodded. "He learned this from you."

"Did he? I'd like to think that. What bothers me is that he still had compassion and loving care for me, even with what he went through."

This was a terribly difficult time for me to even think about, let alone talk about it with Marlin. I felt there was no forgiveness for me, for my part. I felt as though I had let down my precious son.

In my early 20's I was a cancer survivor. My doctor was a Roman Catholic who desperately wanted to keep from performing a hysterectomy on me at such a young age. I had begun going through the change of life when I was 19, according to my medical records. Then the cervical cancer. Not only that, because of extreme malnutrition in my younger years, my organs didn't mature as they should. That meant that my uterus was infantile, and twisted backward, with no hope of ever giving birth. 

Still the doctor and I worked together for 2-1/2 years to destroy the cancer, and it worked! A miracle! The sad news was that my records showed I would never be able to conceive children; if somehow I did, I would never be able to carry they to full term, and if, somehow I managed that, I would never be able to give birth - it would necessitate a c-section delivery.

Seven years after I was diagnosed I gave birth to my beautiful Ryan Jason! Another miracle! I was not married to his father, a psychologist. We had parted ways early in my pregnancy, because I felt he would not be a good father. From his end, he did not think I would be a good mother. In short, we didn't like each other very much anymore. And he had no interest in my pregnancy, nor our son.

In the course of time I married a man, who adopted Jason. We were good friends, and should have stayed that way, because we certainly weren't good for each other. Both of us had gone through traumatic abuse in our childhood, and neither of us had matured or recovered enough to make a stable marriage. We did make a beautiful child, though, Wynter Dawn. I had to talk turkey with the doctors, because they didn't want me to get pregnant again. Yet I wanted so much to have another child, that they finally relented. I found out early on that I was pregnant with twins, but sadly, in my fourth month I miscarried one of them. My second miracle baby was born. 

From the time he was born, Jason and I would lie down together for nap time, or bed time and I would sing to him. Sometimes we would rock in the big rocking chair of bentwood. He favorite song of all for me to sing was Helen Reddy's "You and Me Against the World."

Tell it to me again, Mommy

You and me against the world
Sometimes it seems like you and me against the world
When all the others turn their backs and walked away
You can count on me to stay

Remember when the circus came to town
How you were frightened by the clown
Wasn't it nice to be around someone that you knew
Someone who was big and strong and looking out for

You and me against the world
Sometimes it seems like you and me against the world
And for all the times we've cried I always felt that
God was on our side.

And when one of us is gone
And one of us is left to carry on
Then remembering will have to do
Our memories alone will get us through
Think about the days of me and you
Of you and me against the world

"He trusted me to keep him safe. But I didn't."

"It would be good if you could talk about it."

Oh, the pain in my heart, and deep down inside me, as I remembered that very thing I didn't want to have happen to him, did!  My husband and I had divorced. He would see the children now and then, and one weekend when he brought them back; once he had driven away, Jason turned to me crying and asked me to make *Joey stop doing bad things to him. He then described in detail the sexual acts *Joey had forced him to do.

I was stunned. Stunned beyond belief. "What?"

"He hurt me really bad, Mommy. I don't want to do it anymore."

A thorough examination revealed finger bruising on Jason's throat, and rope burns on his wrists and ankles. I immediately called our pediatric doctor, Dr. Hodge with an emergency request for examination. He confirmed the sexual abuse, as well as the physical abuse.

We contacted the police. I sent my children to stay for awhile with their grandparents in another city. The Special Victims unit met with Jason there and asked him questions. They reported back that they had seven different counts of sexual torture which Jason could tell them about. Jason was just five years old.

*Joey was the teen age son of my ex-husband. He was like a son to me, and I couldn't get my mine around the idea that he would do this. After meeting with the detective and my attorney (legal aid), I opted for civil charges, so *Joey could get counseling and healing, rather than be thrown into prison. He was 14, and I had loved him like he was my own.

For almost two years we battled it out in court. According to law, Jason was too young to testify in the case. The detective came down with hepatitis and the caseworker from juvenile (assigned to take over the case, who also happened to be *Joey's counselor in this matter) reported all the pictures and doctors reports, and notes from the detective had somehow disappeared from the case file. All that remained was my complaint. It now became a "she said/he said" and my ex-husband accused me of fabricating the story in order to "bleed" him. The judge had no choice but to dismiss the case, but did hand down a ruling that Jason and Wynter were never to be in my ex-husband's home unless he was there for total supervision.

"The judge stepped down and hugged Jason. He said he was so sorry."

"That must have been a very hard time for you."

During that time I lost my job, and I was trying to find a way to provide for my children. I went on welfare, which came to $295 per month, $150 of which was the sum total child support paid. I couldn't afford to buy the food stamps, to pay for child care, to pay my utilities or to put gas in my vehicle. So when I received an offer to redecorate a friend's house in exchange for groceries and gas, I leaped on it! 

"Yes, it was an extremely hard time. I was so afraid for my children's welfare."

"Is that when Children's Services became involved?"

"Yes. But not because of the rape case, but because I hit my son. I hit him hard enough across his face to leave a hand print."

"Did you call them?"

"No, his sitter did."

I had been horror struck, and hugged Jason, telling him how sorry I was. But it didn't matter - I knew that in my heart. I had hit my child so hard I had bruised him. And why? Because he cut Wynter's hair off to the scalp on the top of her head, trying to help me. I had told her that I would give her a hair trim when I was through painting the walls in my friend's home. Jason knew how tired I was, and he was only a little boy, six years old trying to help his mommy.

"Oh, God. If I could only take that moment back."

"You are still involved with Children's Services because of this?"

"Yes, they investigated and found I was suffering from starvation and exhaustion. Between losing the job, the rape case and not having enough money for food. They offered me a month's vacation ... not as punishment, but so I could get some rest. So I could heal. And they told me about things that were available for me - resources. Things I never knew about."

"So a bad thing turned out to be a good thing, in the long run?"

"There's nothing good enough to make up for what Jason went through."

Think about the days of me and you, of you and me against the world.

good-night Mommy.

good-night Son.

GOD WAS ON OUR SIDE

MY SON WITH ONE OF HIS SONS

PASSING DOWN THE TRADITION OF PROPER FRENCH FRY CONSUMPTION

2 Samuel 7:12 NIV When your days are over and you rest with your fathers, I will raise up your offspring to succeed you, who will come from your own body, and I will establish his kingdom.

Job 5:25 NIV You will know that your children will be many, and your descendants like the grass of the earth.

Psalm 72:4 NIV He will defend the afflicted among the people and save the children of the needy; he will crush the oppressor.

Isaiah 65:23 NIV They will not toil in vain or bear children doomed to misfortune; for they will be a people blessed by the LORD, they and their descendants with them.

 

 

 

ALLIGATORS UNDER MY BED

Marlin paused for a moment, obviously thinking.

"But you weren't afraid of Lady?"

"No, not once."

"Why do you think that is?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I have no idea."

"Your medical information says you have been diagnosed with anorexia, ADD, OCD and manic depression. It also reads that you have been tested, and are not bipolar, and that you suffer from migraine headaches. That's a lot to deal with, and now we add fear of dogs."

"Yeah, I guess I am a mess. That's why I'm here", laughing.

"Let's talk about you fears. Is there any other fear you would like to talk about?"

"Alligators."

"Alligators?" smiling. "That's a rather unusual."

"I only know I break out in a cold sweat thinking about them, and have nightmares that I have fallen into a pit of alligators, and I keep jumping around trying to avoid them eating me."

"When did fear begin?"

I would never forget! I was about four at the time. Bud was home at night for once, and smiled broadly at us, well pleased with himself. The smile never showed up in his eyes, but Aunt Doris was giddy around him. It was time for us to go to bed, and he opened the door, stopping us before we entered.

The room was dark and cold, and smelled musty. It was our bedroom in the corn crib house. There was a small bed in the middle, and that was all. The springs were rusted and broken on the bed. The mattress had a big enough hole in the middle that we could fall through it, and there was just a dirty, ragged sheet covering it. It was where Virginia and I slept.

We would lie on the bed and wrap our arms through the hole in the mattress, clasping our hands to keep from falling through. It was so cold. There was no overhead light in the room, and no lamp, but there was a small window high up which would let in the daylight. But night time in the country was dark. So many trees, and the corn husks sighing in the wind.  For a little girl with a vivid imagination, it didn't take much outside noise to get my mind off and running.

"I really didn't need any help with conjuring up things to go bump in the night," I sighed. No, I didn't. Bud had plenty of conjuring to do; however, and what Bud said was law.

The rule was there could be no talking when we were put in our room at night. If Bud heard anything, out would come the belt and he didn't much care where it landed, or how hard. He usually didn't hit us with his hands, like he did Aunt Doris. It didn't matter, it still hurt. It was enough to put us on our guard. We did a lot of talking in whispers.

That evening, Bud stopped us and showed us a picture of alligators. He told us that he had been able to get a hold of a couple alligators, and kept them in a hidden place until night came. 

"Now when you go to your room, I'm gonna bring in the cage, and I'll open the door and turn them loose into your room. See, that way, if you try to get up during the night, well they'll tear you apart and eat you up! Snap!! Snap!! Snap!!"  he clapped his hands together several times to let us know how we would be eaten. "And," he continued, "You'll hear the door of the cage creak open, and know they're in your room. But they're real quiet; they don't make noise like you bad little girls so, they;ll just sit quiet and waiting for a toe, or a foot." He smirked. Then laughed, and slapped Aunt Doris on the rear. "Ain't that right, Dorie?"  And they laughed together.

Then, he sent us to our room. It was all darkness, as he shut and locked the door. Then we heard a clanking sound, the creak of a door. "Here they come." Bud called out to us. We heard a soft slithery movement. Then nothing but silence.

I was too terrified to think or speak. I held on tighter through the mattress hole. Throughout the night I would start to doze off, then I would jerk awake, afraid... so afraid.

This set a new pattern for our lives in those days. In the morning Bud would let us out of our room, and at night he would release the alligators. The night Lady had her puppies, I wanted to go to her, but I knew the door was locked, and the alligators were out. I knew I would never make it, and I would be eaten up before I could get to her.

"I never got past that," I explained. "I've spent my lifetime afraid of sleeping and alligators. Just to watch them on television makes my blood run cold."

Marlin shifted in his chair. It's no wonder you've had problems sleeping. What has your sleep pattern been over the years since?"

"Sometimes I can go two or three days without sleeping, then suddenly it will catch up with me, and I am out for a whole day or two. Generally about and average of three hours a night."

"How does that affect your thought process?"

"I try not to think about it. Most days I just want to find a place to hide. And my poor children - they have to deal with a mother who loves them to pieces on one side, and about to blow a fuse on the other. I just get so tired, and I hate that they have to put up with this."

Marlin nodded. "How are you handling all this?"

"Well, I told you before that I don't cry. Actually, I don't cry in front of other people. I cry in the shower, or the closet, or my room late at night. I always feel miserable and sick the next day. I hate myself for being so weak. I have to stop it."

"Crying is actually a release. Tell me why you 'have' to stop it?"

My mind turned to a night in the past week. I was wretched and broken, with no place to turn. I began sobbing into my pillow, and the anguish poured out of me. Suddenly I had felt small hands patting me. I froze. 

It was Jason, my little boy. "What's wrong Mommy?"

"Mommy is just hurting, way down inside."

"Is it like a pin prick, like when I get a shot or is it a giant hurt?"

"It's more like a giant. And I'm sorry. I didn't want you to hear me."

"It's okay, Mommy," he said, hugging me. "I'm here. I won't let any monsters hurt you. And I'll stay with you until you don't hurt anymore." Saying that, he climbed into bed and wrapped his tiny arms around me. I fell asleep singing with him.

When I awoke in the morning, Jason had gone back to his room. 

Psalm 16:7 NCV I praise the Lord because he advises me. Even at night, I feel his leading.

Job 29:5 NCV The Almighty was still with me, and my children were all around me.

Psalm 102:28 NCV Our children will live in your presence, and their children will remain with you."

 

I MUST GO TO A PLACE FAR AWAY

AND SWING ON A SWING IN A LAND OF BEAUTY

"One of my favorite things to do is swing." I smiled at Marlin. He just looked at me, neither writing nor nodding. Simply waiting.

Swinging and rocking have always been so soothing to me. It is difficult to explain, but these are like wrapping a cloak of invisibility around me so that I can be me, without anybody hurting me. If a swing was a magic ring, I would "poof" disappear in front of someone's eyes. How lovely that would be for a little girl lost.

I knew Marlin was patiently waiting for me, watching me to see which direction I would go. I had just told him I thought it was a good thing that Bud had been killed in prison. Was that wrong? Isn't it a good thing to kill a monster? All the horrid things that go bump in the night? Yeah. It had to be done. I never could have done it, myself, but he finally met his match in evilness.

Enter my enchanted land. Hello. My land of flowers, trees, birds, animals, lakes, waterfalls.. and peace. A place to run and play all day, to sit among butterflies. To make necklaces of daisies. To sing with the birds. To pet and stroke all the animals. There are no other people there, just me. And my swing. It's My favorite place to go and daydream myself over and around those things in my life that caused me such pain. And here I was again. Lovely. 

Welcome. Welcome home.

Once, Aunt Peg took me with her to visit a relative in Hart, Michigan. The home was a white cottage type, little house, with a beautiful garden. In the middle of that garden was a white glider swing, with flowers all around it. Just like it was brand new. Perfect. Beautiful. Waiting for me.

While Aunt Peg visited inside, I sat in that swing and felt like I had won the world. What excitement as I took my first step up. My hands were shaking, and I could hardly move my legs, I was so overcome. I sat on the edge, holding the seat with both my hands. And I gently pushed with my body. It moved! It moved! My confidence continued growing and I pushed the swing higher. Oh! The joy! The sheer pleasure. I clapped my hands, and stood up. I was flying wide and happy. 

Once the first excitement had died down, I sat singing and quietly rocking the swing. I spent most of the afternoon there, and when it was time to leave I was reluctant to let the swing go. With a promise to our hostess, and me that we would be back soon, Aunt Peg bustled me off to the car. We never did go back, but that was okay, because something that wonderful is a once-in-a-lifetime thing that you can't keep doing over.

"Is that how you deal with pain?" Marlin studied his notepad as he asked the question, with studied off-handed interest. "You escape to you special world?"

"Sure. Often I do it as an out-of-body experience. I can see myself acting out whatever someone wants from me, but it is only my body. I am not there, not really."

"It's certainly a protective device. How's that working out?"

"I'm afraid of dogs."

Psalm 32:7 NLT For you are my hiding place; you protect me from trouble. You surround me with songs of victory.

Isaiah 4:6 NLT .. It will be a shelter from daytime heat and a hiding place from storms and rain.

Ezekiel 34:27 NLT The orchards and fields of my people will yield bumper crops, and everyone will live in safety. When I have broken their chains of slavery and rescued them from those who enslaved them, then they will know that I am the LORD.

 

NO WAY TO TREAT A "LADY"

Thinking about the chocolate ice cream, and my mind went spiraling back, sucked in like a vortex, a segue of horrors simply too painful, too frightening to put into mere words.

"What?" he quietly interrupted my thought.

"The chocolate ice cream. Used as a tool against me, a tool to hurt me, a tool for lies. I still don't eat chocolate ice cream. Too many things wrong with it."

"Can you talk about it?"

Could I? I could feel my hands clutching the arms of the chair, but I just couldn't let go. Would these memories ever go away?

Aunt Doris was on the phone, laughing, whispering and giggling. She had such a sly smile on her face, so I knew she wasn't talking to Uncle Harold. She always talked to him like he was stupid, and beneath her. But her friends, well that was a different thing. And this had to be a man. The same man she had been talking to for days now. Just then she looked up and saw me standing there.

"Oh, hell!" she exclaimed. "Little miss ears is standing here, and I don't know what she's heard. She paused in her talking, obviously listening to the man on the other end.  "All right, that's a good idea," she said.

Covering the phone with her hand, she called me into the living room. "Come here, Linda. Someone wants to say 'hello' to you."

Really? I got to talk on the phone? As she handed the phone off to me, I held my breath. I never got to talk on the phone. This was wonderful!

"Hello, Linda," the sikly voice said on the other side. "This is Bud, one of your mother's friends. I have been by the house a few times - do you remember me?"

"No."

Laughing, "No? Well, we will have to fix that! How about if I drive over and take you and your mother for a ride in my car? And I will buy you a chocolate ice cream. How does that sound?"

"Good."

"But remember it's our little secret. If anybody finds out, we won't be able to get the ice cream. Okay?"

"Yes. Our secret."

"Great. I'll see you today or tomorrow. Bye sweetheart; put you mother back on."

Of course, there never was a ride. He did come by, but my mother chased me out of the house for the afternoon so they could be alone. Eventually, she left her husband Harold to go live with Bud, taking Virginia and me with her.

Bud was a small time hood, a gangster. He was a drunk and a racist. He carried a gun, pulled robberies and who knew what other things. Their "dream" hideaway was a modified corn crib in the middle of a corn field. He was an evil man with a terrible temper; drinking heavily he would beat on Aunt Dora, Virginia and me. 

One day I was out in the stubble of the corn field, when a beautiful black and white dog came wandering up to me. She was wagging her tail. I sat down on the ground, and she sat down next to me, nuzzling my hands and licking my face. She was so beautiful, and I loved her immediately.

"What's your name?" I asked her. She smiled at me, perked her ears and swished her tail harder. I will call you "Lady", I decided. Her eyes shone with happiness, and she nuzzled my ear.

From that day on I couldn't wait to find Lady; she was my playmate, my chum. Virginia joined in with our games of throwing the stick, too.  We didn't have much to eat, but I managed to hold back a few scraps to give Lady. One day I saw a farmer out in his field, and he called over, "I see you have made friends with my dog!"  His dog? I thought she was my dog. He must have seen the dismay on my face, for he was quick to add, "Don't worry, she's a good girl, with lots of love for everybody. She'll take good care of you, and we can share her."

Relief flooded over me.  "Okay. Thank you!"

The farmer waved good-by, and went on his way. 

Autumn turned into winter, and deep snows came to Michigan. Lady grew fat! But she still came to visit me every day. I wondered how she was getting so fat, until I heard Aunt Doris tell Virginia that Lady was going to be a mama. Oh! I clapped my hands in joy. What an exciting time that was. Now we would have Lady and her puppies.

Lady and I talked about it every day. "Just you wait," I told her. "We will pick out good names for them all. And we will be very happy."  She swished her tail and nudged me.

One night, after Bud had locked us in our dark room, I heard crying. Lots of crying. "It sounds like Lady's crying?" I shook Virginia. 

She pushed my hand away. "I'm already awake," she whispered. "That's not Lady, that's her puppies. And Bud is really mad."

"I wish we could go help."

"Yeah, I know. But we can't do anything until Bud unlocks our door."

Then I heard other frightening noises. Things being thrown around, Aunt Doris crying out, and the puppies crying louder. Bud was roaring and cursing. Aunt Doris was crying. Then I heard Bud stamping across the small area to the door, and slamming it on his way out. Aunt Doris, sobbing ran across the room, and I heard her throw herself on her bed. All was quiet. But I didn't sleep. I was worried about the puppies - had he taken them outside, and left them? They would freeze. I couldn't wait for morning.

When Bud finally let us out in the morning, he snarled at us. "I want you playing where I can see you. No more wandering around this farm. And especially stay away from the wood shed. If you go anywhere near there, I will beat you until you are dead!!"

Virginia said to me, once we were outside, "He's hiding something. I bet he put Lady and the puppies in a cage back there [behind the shed]. We have to go back there and see. Maybe we can help them."  I agreed. So we did a big circle around the field and house, and snuck our way to the backside of the shed. What I saw dropped me to my knees.

I knew better than to cry out loud, so I threw myself across Lady. I picked up her head and tried to put it back on her body. I had to fix her, I had too! This couldn't be happening, not to my Lady. No! No! No! No! No! No! In agony, I looked at the six little headless puppies, as they lay in a heap beside her. Their heads were gone. I felt panic coming on - where did their heads go? I could feel myself cracking into lots of pieces. All I could do was rock Lady and cry. 

Virginia was furious! "Look! Here's the axe he used." It was leaning against the wall. "I am going to kill him for this." She yelled, grabbing the axe in both hands she started across the field towards the crib. Immediately, my terror shifted from Lady to Virginia, because I knew for certain she would not be able to kill Bud, but that in fact he would kill her - then all of us.

I stumbled to my feet and chased after her, "No, don't!" I cried. "He will kill you. You can't kill him."  But she wouldn't listen. I couldn't stop her and I didn't know how. My fear was maxed out, and I wet myself.

"Please, Ginger, please." Wailing, I somehow managed to reach her and pulled on her arm. "What would I do without you? Stop. You can't, you can't! He'll kill you, I know he will. You know it! Come on ~ let's take care of Lady."

We stood there in the quiet, gray day. Neither of us could say anymore. At last she nodded, and turned with me to go back to the shed.

"What happened then?"

"We buried them all together in an old burlap bag we found and covered them with lots and lots of snow. The ground was too hard to dig, so that was the best we could do."

"You aren't even crying, as you talk about this. In fact you don't cry about any of the stories you are relating to me. Which means you have told them so often they mean nothing to you (which I don't believe), or that you buried the pain so deep that you can't cry. It's okay to cry."

"I don't cry."

He nodded. 

"Bud went to prison some time later for killing a man in a hold up. In prison he got into a fight with another inmate, and Bud was stabbed to death."

"What did you think when you heard about that?"

"Good."

Lamentations 2:19. Arise, cry out in the night, as the watches of the night begin; pour out your heart like water in the presence of the Lord. Lift up your hands to him for the lives of your children, who faint from hunger at the head of every street.

Luke 7:32. They are like children sitting in the marketplace and calling out to each other: " 'We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not cry.'

This is where I put my story on "pause", to share with you my alone time this morning, as I walked with God. I asked Him where He was taking me with this, where He wanted me to go next. Not that I don't have enough things to write about, but because I have so many that the sorting out is difficult at best.

My life, like others before me can be divided into two categories:  Before Christ (BC) and after Christ (AD). The time of my counseling transcended both BC and AD. Dr. Schultz did not lead me to Christ, but his gentleness and wisdom calmed and steadied me. He prepared me, so I could find my way back home. As I would learn many years later, my life actually could be divided into three parts. In the Beginning (IB), then BC and followed by AD.  So let me jump ahead into AD and explain this a little better.

About seven years after my counseling, I learned (through my natural mother) that as a very little girl I was always singing, and lifting my hands in praise to the Lord. She told me that I sang in the spirit before I could talk, and was always praying. She told me how much I loved being in church; However, there would be circumstances which removed me from that closeness to God and plunged me into years of darkness. Some of the darkness was brought on by others, and some of it by my own choices. The darkness went to far as to make me a practicing "White Witch".

During these dark years I never lost sight of God, but I would explain to others that though I believed in Him, I wasn't part of His family. And though I loved the Bible,  it was all like a beautiful fairy tale to me. I would never be part of it, because there was no way I could ever be good enough to please God. For some reason, I was behind a door when He picked out who He wanted. I was not denied by Him, I simply was ignored, and never seen. My anger and pain against God was so great, I couldn't handle it. I ran from it and from Him, for years. Dodging and evading; tripping over myself in an attempt to get away from the hurt of not being "good enough". To me, His rejection was the ultimate rejection of all. I didn't think it could ever be fixed.

Two events happened to me between the ages of three and six which would effect me through most of my life. They don't seem like much, I am sure, but to a little girl lost, they were big issues.

The first happened when I was with my Aunt Doris (my second mother). I was about three, or so and playing in the dirt by myself. It was a summer day, and the windows in the house were open. As I played, I chatted with my friend Timothy. We sang songs and just enjoyed each other in the afternoon sun. I didn't know it then, but God had His hand firmly on me, and my "friend" was actually a heavenly being. He will show up later in my story. At that time, he was there everyday. My aunt stuck her head out the window and yelled at me to stop talking and singing in that "dribble" or she would have me committed to a mental institution for the rest of my life. She assured me she wasn't kidding, and I was to stop immediately.

So many little children have invisible friends, so it might seem like nothing. However, what I came to understand later in my life is that I was speaking in tongues, and singing in tongues. And Timothy most certainly was my guardian angel. God says He will give His angels charge over us, to protect us in our ways. After that day, I was very careful to be out of earshot from Aunt Doris whenever I wanted to spend time with Timothy. 

I could have grown up with Timothy, were it not for the second incident. The Dunkens had taken us to their Dutch Reform church, and the pastor was in full swing that day. He was pounding the pulpit and yelling at the parishioners. Finally, he slammed down his Bible, hammering it with his fist. Then, he pointed his finger straight at me, and looked me in the eye as he roared "I tell you, you are going straight to hell. There is no salvation for you."

There was never any doubt in my mind from that time on that I was doomed. I shut my heart, my ears and my eyes to any close relationship with God. When you read my next chapter, you may understand better how my spiral descent into darkness gained speed.

Shortly after the hellfire and brimstone sermon, I became gravely ill, yet again. You will learn more about that, also. There remains only two things to say yet, on this page. The scripture that haunted me most of my life, and the still, small song that kept hanging around - that tiny thread of hope.

Matthew 12:43-46 "When an evil spirit leaves a person, it goes into the desert, seeking rest but finding none. Then it says, 'I will return to the person I came from.' So it returns and finds its former home empty, swept, and clean. Then the spirit finds seven other spirits more evil than itself, and they all enter the person and live there. And so that person is worse off than before. That will be the experience of this evil generation." 

To me, that meant I was always evil; I had been born that way. It was why I was so ugly, and why nobody wanted me around. It was why I suffered so many of the things I did, because I needed to be punished for being so evil.

But a still, small voice would whisper this song. Though I shrugged it off, it would never go away. It never gave up on me, as I had given up on Him.

"Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to Him belong. They are week, but He is strong. Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me. The Bible tells me so."

 

 

RED PAINT, CHINNING BARS & CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM

The soft tick of the clock was the only noise in the room, as my mind looped back over the first day at the Dunken's house. I stole a glance at Marlin. He had stopped writing, and sat patiently with his head tipped, watching me, saying nothing. I let my mind drift, and felt a smile tugging at my face.

After Virginia's bath, and when they had her in the kitchen (she had not one, but TWO sandwiches - lucky her), I was left to my own devices. We didn't have television in those days, so that was no option.  The only radio (a gorgeous burled wood, tall, upright piece of furniture) was not turned on. Yawn. Bored. I was in a "no-touch" zone - a home alien to me, with nothing to do, and nobody to care how I did that nothing!

I stole a peek into the kitchen. Both Mr. and Mrs. Dunken were busy consoling Virginia, and Mr. Dunken was headed out to buy so ice cream to "make her feel better". She wanted chocolate. I nodded to myself; Virginia was content and looked after, so I didn't have to worry about her for a bit.

I laughed out loud. "What?" asked Marlin. Startled I returned to the present, but I couldn't stop grinning.

"You know the saying 'Here Comes Trouble', or the saying 'Trouble is My Middle name'?"

"Of course," he returned my smile. "are you saying that's you?"

I laughed again. "You bet!"

What does a four year old do when bored, no toys, and left to herself in a "no-touch" zone? She must return to the place where she knows it is okay for her to be. The "Safety Zone".

I ran back to the bedroom and tried to recapture the smell of joy by hugging the pillow. But the joy smell was gone. I ran my hands over the spread. No joy there, although it did feel lovely. The lacy curtains were also lovely to touch, but no joy. The window shades were pulled, and these were hard to pull up and down, so I must not try that, but I could step behind one, to see if it would be a good hiding place. And so I did, very carefully.

Then I was caught up in the view from the window. There were kids playing in the yard next door, laughing and shoving as they played ball. What fun that looked to be!  They were all boys, loud and noisy as boys are. Suddenly, one of them picked up some slushy snow and threw it at another, right towards my direction! Alarmed, I backed out from behind the shade. I hoped he hadn't seen me. My frightened mind began to work frantically: if he had seen me and said something to Mr. and Mrs. Dunken what would happen to me for being where I wasn't supposed to be?  My hands began to shake, and I chewed in agony on my torn fingernails. Suddenly, I had to go to the bathroom very badly!

"Because you stepped behind a shade," gently, he inquired.

"Oh, yes! Of course. I was in a "no touch" zone. This could have been more than being yelled at, this could be a beating!"

In the bathroom, I sighed with relief as I sat on the toilet. Then I couldn't go. So I went through the catechism: "are awake, you are sitting on the seat, it is okay to go potty... no, you must take off Aunt Peg's panties before you go." Gingerly I scrambled off the toilet and wiggled out of the panties. I climbed back on, and sat there for awhile, day dreaming. I delighted in the sweet smell of the bathroom, the red walls and white tiles. Suddenly, I snapped out of my day dream - I saw it again - the Chinning Bar. Big and bold and shiney and wondeful.

Hurriedly I wiggled back into the panties, and flushed the toilet. Wow! It worked so good and was so fascinating, I decided I should have another go at it. What fun this was, so I flushed it again, and then again. Then I wondered how it worked. I dropped to my knees and crawled under and behind it, looking at the knobs and pipes. I put my hand on the wall for support, and it felt sticky wet. When I pulled my hand away, it as covered with red paint! I looked at my hand and thought how beautiful the color was, but I didn't want to get it on anything, so I wiped it on the shirt I was wearing. 

Laughter interrupted my reverie. "You wiped it on the shirt?" Marlin laughed?

"I did. And in 1947 the paint was oil based, not water based."  Marlin laughed harder, and I joined him. "Oh," he said "they must have been upset."

"Not right then." That would come later, in about ten minutes.

Once my hand was sufficiently cleaned, and I could lick no more of the paint off, I faced my next puzzle. It seemed Aunt Peg had hung some towels on the chinning bar! Could I dare touch them, to move them? And where would I put them? On the floor, in tub, on the sink... my mind searched for the perfect answer. At last I saw it, a seat cover for the toilet. Very carefully, I lowered it and was quite pleased with myself. The perfect place to put the towels!

As I turned to reach for the towel bar, I lightly tripped against the toilet base, and put my hand against the wall to balance myself, then carefully stepped around the toilet to the get the towels. Forgetting to clean my hand again, I carefully, one-by-one pulled them off the chinning bar, and laid them down as neatly as I could. They were still damp from our baths, and I breathed in the clean smell of them. Hmmmm. Still no joy. But that didn't matter, because I knew at last where I would find My Joy.

The towels all removed, At last I stood in front of My Joy. My trophy for my efforts. The most beautiful chinning bar I had ever seen! I had to stand and admire it for a couple minutes before trying it out. I stood quietly before it, my hands clasped together in anticipation. The expectation was almost too great for me to handle, and I felt nausea curling up through my stomach. Taking deep breaths, I let the nausea settle, calming myself. This was a special moment, and I didn't want to ruin it.

I stepped forward.

I reached up both hands.

I grasped the bar, and took a deep breath. This was it. This was the moment I had been waiting for.

I pulled myself up.

The bar broke from the wall, and I went crashing down! Legs and arms and chinning bar flying everywhere. I ended up on my back with my feet and legs on the wall.

"Well," I said out loud, "that wasn't very nice!"  Who would put up a chinning bar like that? Only someone who was out to hurt someone else. And to make it worse, I was cheated out of some really good chinning! And my joy all gone.

Then I heard footsteps pounding through the house, and the door was flung open. "What has happened?" cried Aunt Peg, "are you all right?" She helped me up from the floor.

"What have you done?" roared Mr. Dunken, "You've ruined everything!"

"For goodness sake, what were you thinking - what were you doing?" Aunt Peg was looking at me angrily. "You have red paint everywhere."

I was amazed! How stupid could people be? My defense mode kicked in, as I prepared myself for the beating of my life. I knew it was coming; it just couldn't be any other way. But this really wasn't my fault!

"I was chinning myself," I defended, "and you didn't put the chinning bar up right." I smiled at him, but he would not meet my eyes.

Mr. Dunken scratched his head. "Well, Hazel, I'll have to repaint in here, and get some better fasteners for the towel bar. You take care of her and this mess and I'll see to Virginia."

What towel bar? What about the chinning bar?I didn't have time for my thoughts to go much further than that, as Aunt Peg grabbed a hold of me and put me in the tub, while the water was still running. "You even have the paint in your hair," she grumbled.

Really? In my hair? I so wanted to see, but knowing I was really in trouble, I didn't ask. Still, I bet the red paint looked really good.

It was a quiet, no-chat bath this time, and no Jergens to finish it off.

Much later, re-washed, re-dressed and sitting at the kitchen table with the Dunkens and Virginia (they weren't about to let me be where they couldn't "keep an eye on me"), I watched as Virginia slowly ate her chocolate ice cream. Licking the spoon after each bite, and smiling smugly at me each time. No ice cream for me. "Only good girls got ice cream," so they said. And when I learned to be more like my sister, I would get chocolate ice cream, too.

"Funny thing is," I looked at Marlin "in later years they would tell that story, and laugh about it, but they never let me have chocolate ice cream in all the years I lived with them."

"Never?"

"Never."

Proverbs 13:12 Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.

Job 6:11 "What strength do I have, that I should still hope? What prospects, that I should be patient?

 

A WOMAN OF THE 40'S

"I wonder how my mother would react to this, I mused to Marlin at our next session.

"How do you think she would react?"

"That depends on which one you are talking about," I countered.

"Mothers?" He raised his eyebrows.

"mmmmm, yeah. Three, fact."

"So which one would you like to talk about, today?"

I looked at him, and wondered the same thing, myself. He certainly wasn't probing for detailed information about "three mothers", but then he wasn't pushing me either. Just a gentle question. I relaxed.

"All things considered, Peg Dunken is really the only one of them I consider being my mother. The other two just passed through my life and threw me away when they got tired of having me around. And, I really feel love for her, you know, yet at the same time I think I hate her." My mind drifted back to the day that Peg Dunken walked into my life.

I was sitting on a straight backed chair in a big room with high ceilings. I had no idea of the day or year, although the war years were still with us in the USA. It was, in fact 1947, a time of wonderful music and people stopping to talk with each other. A time of clothes hanging on the line to dry, and picnics with family in the park. Men were coming home from war, and things were closing down in the Pacific as well as the European theater. So much going on. A world far too busy to pay attention to the needs and welfare of a little girl.

So I sat there, fidgeting, while people hustled and bustled around me. They didn't seem to notice me, which I thought was good. I looked at the halls and doors, and has my escape route all planned out, just in case. When suddenly, this angel walked into the room. I gasped to myself. She was so beautiful, and she wore a hat with a veil, a fur coat, leather gloves and high heel boots with fur. Everything was black and brown, except for her hair. It was a halo of dark blond, and her eyes looked directly into mine, and I fell in love. 

Sitting across from Marlin, I thought about the women of the 1940's, how glamorous they seemed - either that or totally not glamorous. In short, it was a time of dressing up to go out, even to run errands. Women with slacks were few and far between. They either wore plaid house dresses, with aprons and their hair tied up in babooshkas, or they went all elegant with net filets holding their hair neatly in place. My angel was the second kind, and it was Hazel "Peg" Dunken. She didn't look like Barbara Stanwyck, but the essence of her was the same - the same eyebrows, lips, hair style, perfect posture and poise and of course, the gorgeous clothes. 

I wanted to be like her, a true woman of the 40's.

I smiled.

"What?" asked Marlin.

"I was just remembering the first time I saw Peg Dunken. After I caught my breath, my first thought was 'someday I am going to wear beautiful clothes, and jewelry and furs. Someday I will make my face look that beautiful, and I will smell that good'."

"All little girls should have princess dreams."

I nodded. He was right, but I didn't have much time to think about it then, because she walked right up to me, with one of the women in the office, took my face in her hands and smiled, looking into my eyes.

"You must be Linda."

I nodded in agreement, and reached a hand out to touch the fur on her coat. 

"You are beautiful!" I breathed.

"I'm glad you think so! I dressed just to meet you," she smiled. "And I think you are beautiful, too!"

I laughed out loud. Not only was she beautiful, she was fun, because she knew how to pretend. Everyone knew I was ugly and horrible. I took her hand.

The other woman spoke. "Linda, this is Mrs. Dunken. You will be staying with her and her husband for awhile."

"Am I really going with you, Mrs. Dunken?" I asked.

"For awhile. And why don't you call me Aunt Peg?"

Wow! Jackpot! An aunt and someone who liked to joke and have fun, all in one day. I squeezed her hand tighter, and looked down from the happiness in her eyes. It was too rich, too wonderful. I could hardly breathe.

We walked out the door together. Snow was still on the ground, and the streets were slushy. I shivered. I was cold and itchy.

"We'll have to see about some different clothes for you," she chatted with me as we walked to her car. "But first, I think a nice warm, bubble bath and some Jergens would be just the thing, don't you?"

I nodded happily in agreement. I didn't have a clue what she was talking about, but that didn't matter, because I had brought home the grand prize. After everything else I was going to ride with her in her beautiful car. I looked around me, proudly, wondering if anybody could see how lucky I was.

When we got to their home, she took me to the kitchen to meet Mr. Dunken, He was in the process of painting, and had blue paint smeared across one cheek. He dropped to his knees, opening his arms wide, he gave me a brilliant smile as I looked into the most beautiful pair of blue eyes I had ever seen.  

"Welcome sweetheart!"

I ran to his arms, and he hugged me tightly. Peg said "Let's get to the bathroom and get those clothes off you. I'll find a shirt of Clarence's to put on you."  Happily I trudged after her to the bathroom.

Heaven on earth! It was red with white tile and everything polished chrome. I blinked. I had never seen anything like this. It even had a toilet that flushed. and best of all, a chrome bar I could chin myself on.  While she drew hot water into the tub I stood on tiptoe to look at in the mirror. Was I really here? The little girls that smiled back at me made me want to cry. Oh, how sad and ugly. My hair was matted to my head, I dirty from head to toe, and my dress was old, faded and ripped in places. I grimaced. My teeth were black and rotted. I had no fingernails, as they irritated me, so I was always pulling them off. I sighed and looked away.

Soon I was soaking in the heavenly water. Aunt Peg said, "I'll be back in just a minute?"  I wondered what new surprise she had for me. Soon she returned with a scrub brush and a bar of brown soap.

"I'm sorry, sweetie but I won't be able to get you clean without this."

That's when I learned about Fells Nafta soap for heavy cleaning. She laboriously scrubbed me from head to toe with the soap, and when she was at last satisfied I was clean, she drained the water, and poured pitchers of warm water all over me. Then she wrapped me in a towel, patting me dry. I skin was rosy red and clean! And the itching was gone.

"Now for the Jergens," she purred.

What bliss as she massaged that lovely cherry-almond fragrance over my body. She brought me a pair of her underwear and safety pinned them to stay up, and then tucked me into one of Mr. Dunken's shirts. 

"You must be starving. How about a peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich?"

I smiled. Whatever that was, it sounded good to me. And it was! Oh my goodness, what a wonderful thing. And a whole glass of milk to go with it. Some orange slices and a cookie. 

Then it was nap time. Aunt Peg led me to the most beautiful bedroom I had seen, all polished dark wood, with lovely covers on the bed and lacy curtains on the window. I was too excited to sleep, but I did. I fell asleep smiling. I had found the fairy castle, and everything would be beautiful from then on. It was the best sleep in my life.

I was awakened by a terrible noise. What was going on! Then I heard it, my sister Virginia's voice screaming loudly, furniture crashing. She was violently struggling against someone. I jumped from the bed and ran through the house. There were Mr. Dunken and Aunt Peg trying to calm my sister down, telling her it would all be fine, that they were here to help her, not hurt her. But she was having none of it.  

I ran to her. "Ging, it's ok, it's ok." I grabbed her hand. Finally, she realized it was me, and she stopped fighting. "Please, please don't," I begged. She nodded, and began to calm down. "Smell" I demanded, holding my arm up to her. "That's all Aunt Peg is going to do. The bubble bath is wonderful, and then she will cover you with this."

She looked at me for a long moment, then smelled my arm again. Reluctantly, she let Aunt Peg lead her to the bathroom for a bath. She had messed herself, but she didn't notice. Aunt Peg sent me from the room, telling me she would take care of it now.  I turned to Mr. Dunken and ran to put my arms around him. I needed a hug, a reassurance from him. Instead, he pushed me away, not looking at me. 

"In fact, I mused, "He stopped 'seeing' me that day."

Marlin nodded; he was writing notes.

I was four years old; Virginia was six. We were in a foster home, which would later become our permanent adoptive home. 

"I was pretty philosophical about the fall from the ivory tower to the real world below. No fairy tale castles for me; no knight in shining armor coming to my rescue. How sad that at four years I could understand that, and shrug my shoulders."

"What did you do then?"

"Well, I didn't cry in front of them. No way! I had learned that lesson the hard way. I just mentally ran away to my safe place, my hiding place where nobody could find me and hurt me. That's where I deep-sixed dreams of being somebody's princess. That's where I laid down and cried. "

1 Samuel 12:22 "For the sake of his great name the LORD will not reject his people, because the LORD was pleased to make you his own."