Today there are marches for Women's Empowerment are happening in a number of cities across the country. Some say it's in protest of Donald Trump's Inauguration and in response to demeaning things he said to other men about women. Other reasons have been cited. Personally, I think the main reason we need to bring women together and put the spotlight on women's rights is in regard to domestic violence.
I was in an abusive relationship for many years. Domestic violence can take many forms. There is psychological abuse, emotional abuse and physical abuse. To be honest, I would have preferred the physical abuse be more prominent than the other two because bleeding and bruising can heal sometimes not even leaving a scar. It's something you can show to a doctor or law enforcement as proof of the pain you are suffering. That is not the case with psychological or emotional abuse. I had been called such horrible names so many times that I didn't even think it was wrong for someone to call me a bitch, a slut, or a whore.
One day, I got an email saying that a magazine was going to publish one of my articles. I was so excited that I could hardly wait until he got home from work. When he came in, I said, "You won't believe it but the article I submitted is being published. They are paying me too. It's the article I wrote about spending Thanksgiving at the Community Dinner. I can't believe they wrote right back to me."
He stopped beside me and said, "Why can't you at least let me get in the door? I can't have a moments peace coming in from work into my own home. You just bombard me with all this stuff about your day and I can't even come in and have my dinner in peace before you start in at me with all your trivial crap. So thank you for ruining my entire evening."
"I'm sorry," I said, "I was just so excited. This is a pretty big magazine and hard to get into. I thought you would be proud of me."
Then he said, "Right now all I want from you is my dinner and a few hours of peace and quiet while I watch television."
So I fixed his plate and brought him his dinner to the living room without saying another word. I felt so bad that I had made him so angry and knew that I should never let that happen again. His words had bruised my soul and battered my heart and those were injuries that took a very long time to heal. I carried those invisible scars around for years.
After I finally left him, family and friends, none of whom knew what my life was like, wondered why it took me so long to leave. The difficult truth is that I was ashamed that I had let his demeaning words and his repeatedly tell me I was crazy brainwash me. Every ugly thing he had said was tattooed on my heart and I was embarrassed that I wasn't strong enough to say enough is enough and walk away.
So when we think of Women's Empowerment, think of those suffering in silence. No matter if their bruises are visible or not they need our prayers. Some might say I'm lucky because he only put his hands on me a few times. Even once is one time too many and a real man would not call someone vile and nasty names. We need to educate young women about psychological and emotional abuse and how these abusers take over complete control of the lives the women lead. I could not buy a loaf of bread without calling to get his permission. That is abuse. I finally am putting the blame where it belongs on my abuser. I am done feeling ashamed and I know that I am stronger since God gave me the strength to get through the situation.
If you know someone that you suspect may be a victim of psychological abuse, try to get them to call the nearest abused persons hotline. No one deserves to be controlled, degraded or beaten.
God Bless.
Saturday, January 21, 2017
Saturday, December 31, 2016
NOT WORTHY
I haven't blogged a post in a while. I've working on my novel which is a third finished. I just have something on my heart that I need to share. It's New year's eve. I'm at home. i've been a bit down.
It happens time to time as I'm bi-polar. I've been sad and although I have faith in
God, I have questioned hime as to why I have to suffer this. Pray and pray but I begin to doubt whether he hears or wants to answer me.
I begin to wonder why. Then I felt that I wasn't worthy of his love. Then I realized that not one of us is worthy of his love. Christ died on the cross in order to give us forgiveness. Which one on of is worthy to have the Son of God die a brutal death on the cross to save us from sin?
We are not worthy. We are but human and fallible. That's what makes God's love for us even more special. We should be thankful each day for that love. But being human, we doubt God's love for us. When we doubt his love, we need to think of the Cross and JESUS who gave his life but rose from the deed and descended to heaven where he serves at the right hand of the Father.
I'm not worthy but I try to accept his love and have faith in God.
God Bless
It happens time to time as I'm bi-polar. I've been sad and although I have faith in
God, I have questioned hime as to why I have to suffer this. Pray and pray but I begin to doubt whether he hears or wants to answer me.
I begin to wonder why. Then I felt that I wasn't worthy of his love. Then I realized that not one of us is worthy of his love. Christ died on the cross in order to give us forgiveness. Which one on of is worthy to have the Son of God die a brutal death on the cross to save us from sin?
We are not worthy. We are but human and fallible. That's what makes God's love for us even more special. We should be thankful each day for that love. But being human, we doubt God's love for us. When we doubt his love, we need to think of the Cross and JESUS who gave his life but rose from the deed and descended to heaven where he serves at the right hand of the Father.
I'm not worthy but I try to accept his love and have faith in God.
God Bless
Saturday, November 5, 2016
SURVIVING SEXUAL ASSAULT
When I was a freshman in college, I was raped. It happened one month before my 18th birthday, Halloween night 1986. I went to a fraternity party dressed as a playboy bunny in a white leotard, tights, a bunny tail and ears. I had some drinks and was having a great time with my friends. The friend who had accompanied me decided to leave before I was ready to go home. I told her I'd be fine. When the party was winding down, one of the fraternity brothers that I considered a friend offered to walk me back to my dorm room.
When we got to my room, he asked if he could use my bathroom. I said, "Sure, my roommate is not here so you won't wake her."
Inside the room he grabbed me from behind and started kissing my neck. I asked him to stop, but instead he pulled me backwards and threw me across the end of my bed against the wall. My head hit the cinderblock wall. I must have passed out for several minutes.
When I came to, I was undressed and he was on top of me trying to force himself inside of me. Through my tears, I asked him to stop. He clutched my throat and said, "If you scream, I'll kill you."
I turned my head away and tried to just pray for it to be over. It hurt so bad because he was being so rough. It felt like it lasted for an eternity. When he finished, he said, "You tell anyone and I've got 30 frat brothers who'll swear you've already done them. Don't even think of calling the cops or I'll come back and do much worse."
I believed him. After he left, I showered for a long time until the water ran cold. I just wanted to get the scent of him off of me. I cried myself to sleep. The physical injuries didn't compare to what the rape did to my soul, to my sense of personal safety or to my self esteem. I tried to pretend nothing had happened but I had nightmares that made the darkness something to continually fear.
In 1986, acquaintance rapes were not really talked about. I thought I had done something to ask for it to happen like the way I was dressed or the fact that I had been drinking. Of course, now I know that the rape wasn't about those things. Rape is about anger, violence and control. I was not the one to blame; my rapist was.
It took me many years to get past the rape and the trust issues that came after. I wish I could say the nightmares are gone but I still have them occasionally. I often wonder if I might have had closure sooner had I reported the rape. That's something I'll never know. All I know is that I did survive and I've lived to tell my story. Hopefully, my sharing this can help other young women who have experienced rape to talk about it.
Rape is never the victim's fault, no matter what she wears or how drunk she might have been. No means no.
When we got to my room, he asked if he could use my bathroom. I said, "Sure, my roommate is not here so you won't wake her."
Inside the room he grabbed me from behind and started kissing my neck. I asked him to stop, but instead he pulled me backwards and threw me across the end of my bed against the wall. My head hit the cinderblock wall. I must have passed out for several minutes.
When I came to, I was undressed and he was on top of me trying to force himself inside of me. Through my tears, I asked him to stop. He clutched my throat and said, "If you scream, I'll kill you."
I turned my head away and tried to just pray for it to be over. It hurt so bad because he was being so rough. It felt like it lasted for an eternity. When he finished, he said, "You tell anyone and I've got 30 frat brothers who'll swear you've already done them. Don't even think of calling the cops or I'll come back and do much worse."
I believed him. After he left, I showered for a long time until the water ran cold. I just wanted to get the scent of him off of me. I cried myself to sleep. The physical injuries didn't compare to what the rape did to my soul, to my sense of personal safety or to my self esteem. I tried to pretend nothing had happened but I had nightmares that made the darkness something to continually fear.
In 1986, acquaintance rapes were not really talked about. I thought I had done something to ask for it to happen like the way I was dressed or the fact that I had been drinking. Of course, now I know that the rape wasn't about those things. Rape is about anger, violence and control. I was not the one to blame; my rapist was.
It took me many years to get past the rape and the trust issues that came after. I wish I could say the nightmares are gone but I still have them occasionally. I often wonder if I might have had closure sooner had I reported the rape. That's something I'll never know. All I know is that I did survive and I've lived to tell my story. Hopefully, my sharing this can help other young women who have experienced rape to talk about it.
Rape is never the victim's fault, no matter what she wears or how drunk she might have been. No means no.
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
DREAM ON
Not too long ago, I asked myself if I was the only one whose dreams never came true. Under my high school yearbook picture my life goal was "to write the great American novel". I thought that my dreams of that were not to be, but I had achieved a new dream which was having a beautiful daughter. My dream of a marriage that lasts all my life had ended, not failed, just ended.
While a stay at home mom, I published a number of freelance articles but didn't have the time to pursue my craft full time. After my divorce in 2011, I faced an extended potentially fatal illness. During my recovery, I began writing my own story which was very cathartic and helped my hone my craft but nothing was ready for publishing. So I read a lot and I prayed a lot. I should have known, everything happens in God's time not in mine. At that point, I began to dream on. I voiced those dreams to God and asked for guidance.
In the summer of 2016, God answered my prayers in a big way. I became inspired with a plot for a new novel and started doing research for that project. Then I saw an ad for writers wanted for a media group that owns eight women's magazines in the southeast. I sent my clips in to the editorial staff and was hired as a contributing writer. I have two articles coming out in the next issue of Emerald City Woman in Greenwood, South Carolina. I also was led to start this blog. In the first month, I received over 1000 views and it went international to ten countries on four continents. Thank you loyal readers, you are helping to encourage me to dream on.
I'm almost fifty years old, and I am proof that your dreams should stay in your heart no matter how long you've desired them. Through prayer, listening to God's desire for my life, and hard work my dreams are now becoming reality. Never give up on your dreams. They may be postponed while you fulfill God's plan for your life, but they never should go away. Everything happens for a reason and it happens in God's time, not in your time.
With a lot of work, a lot of prayer and a lot of faith dreams can come true at any time. Don't give up because one ending may lead to new beginnings. So always DREAM ON!!
While a stay at home mom, I published a number of freelance articles but didn't have the time to pursue my craft full time. After my divorce in 2011, I faced an extended potentially fatal illness. During my recovery, I began writing my own story which was very cathartic and helped my hone my craft but nothing was ready for publishing. So I read a lot and I prayed a lot. I should have known, everything happens in God's time not in mine. At that point, I began to dream on. I voiced those dreams to God and asked for guidance.
In the summer of 2016, God answered my prayers in a big way. I became inspired with a plot for a new novel and started doing research for that project. Then I saw an ad for writers wanted for a media group that owns eight women's magazines in the southeast. I sent my clips in to the editorial staff and was hired as a contributing writer. I have two articles coming out in the next issue of Emerald City Woman in Greenwood, South Carolina. I also was led to start this blog. In the first month, I received over 1000 views and it went international to ten countries on four continents. Thank you loyal readers, you are helping to encourage me to dream on.
I'm almost fifty years old, and I am proof that your dreams should stay in your heart no matter how long you've desired them. Through prayer, listening to God's desire for my life, and hard work my dreams are now becoming reality. Never give up on your dreams. They may be postponed while you fulfill God's plan for your life, but they never should go away. Everything happens for a reason and it happens in God's time, not in your time.
With a lot of work, a lot of prayer and a lot of faith dreams can come true at any time. Don't give up because one ending may lead to new beginnings. So always DREAM ON!!
Tuesday, October 11, 2016
LET'S INVADE CANADA
OK, Let's be real. Immigrants and visitors from most countries who come to the USA are identifiable because of language, accent, or cultural differences. Canadians are sneaky little bastards who can easily blend in and seem like just another citizen. I worry that the back and forth across the Canadian/US border is so normal every day that undesirables from terrorist countries could easily slip their way in. Plus, what is really the big difference between Canada and the US, except for the confused ones who think they're French.
So, I think we should just invade Canada and make them all Americans. It would expand our tax base and from what I've read they've got a good healthcare system in place. We could adopt the good things about Canada and they could adopt our culture. I mean, they're practically American anyway. Then, we could protect our largest land border entry. It's not that I don't think the border patrol does a bad job, but there's a lot of wilderness and water crossings where people can sneak across the border.
If Donald Trump can suggest a wall to keep the Mexican border safe, why can't I propose the invasion of Canada to annex them and put the entire country under Homeland Security's watchful eye? Come to think of it, that seems a perfect plan we would no longer have to worry about the Canadian border. We could go in and kick out any undesirable resident aliens and take control of most of North America. I don't think Canada has much of a military. At least, you never really here about their military prowess. If we invaded they'd probably surrender within a couple of days. Yes, the more I think about it we really need to invade and annex Canada as a US territory. That way, we would control the majority of North America.
Maybe Donald Trump should give me a call. With his plan for a wall to keep the Mexican border safe, and my plan to invade Canada, we can keep all the terrorists out. So, Donald if you read this and like my ideas give me a call.
****AUTHOR'S NOTE, THIS POST IS MEANT TO BE A HUMOROUS TONGUE IN CHEEK LOOK AT CERTAIN CURRENT EVENTS.
So, I think we should just invade Canada and make them all Americans. It would expand our tax base and from what I've read they've got a good healthcare system in place. We could adopt the good things about Canada and they could adopt our culture. I mean, they're practically American anyway. Then, we could protect our largest land border entry. It's not that I don't think the border patrol does a bad job, but there's a lot of wilderness and water crossings where people can sneak across the border.
If Donald Trump can suggest a wall to keep the Mexican border safe, why can't I propose the invasion of Canada to annex them and put the entire country under Homeland Security's watchful eye? Come to think of it, that seems a perfect plan we would no longer have to worry about the Canadian border. We could go in and kick out any undesirable resident aliens and take control of most of North America. I don't think Canada has much of a military. At least, you never really here about their military prowess. If we invaded they'd probably surrender within a couple of days. Yes, the more I think about it we really need to invade and annex Canada as a US territory. That way, we would control the majority of North America.
Maybe Donald Trump should give me a call. With his plan for a wall to keep the Mexican border safe, and my plan to invade Canada, we can keep all the terrorists out. So, Donald if you read this and like my ideas give me a call.
****AUTHOR'S NOTE, THIS POST IS MEANT TO BE A HUMOROUS TONGUE IN CHEEK LOOK AT CERTAIN CURRENT EVENTS.
CODE 3 IN A HURRICANE
Yes, while all the rest of South Carolinians were staying off the roads as Hurricane Matthew made landfall in Beaufort and Charleston, I was out riding along with a K-9 Unit of the Sheriff's Dept on the graveyard shift. It was extremely exciting but was my second such ride along with the unit which I was doing as research for a book I'm working on. First, I should recap that first amazing night I spent with Deputy T. Blackwelder and his K-9 partner, Lannes.
Lannes, a German Shepard, has been on the road since last November. Deputy Blackwelder introduced me to Lannes using only whisper commands the dog heeled by his side as I extended my hand which he promptly licked. We started the nighshift patrol and it wasn't long before I got to see Lannes in action. Every time the deputy got out of the SUV, Lannes was on his feet ready to go watching the deputy through the windshield. He got Lannes out to search a suspicious vehicle. The dog immediately alerted on the driver's side door and the deputy praised him but didn't him his reward because he needed to complete the "fresh air sniff" search (meaning from outside the vehicle and no probable cause is necessary). Around the other side I saw Lannes alert on the passenger side. At that point the deputy gave Lannes his reward - his ball. He then had probable cause and searched the interior of the car. whereupon he found several hypodermic needles which had traces of heroin. It was incredible that the dog got the scent from such a small amount of drugs. The next search was on a traffic stop on the interstate. Again, Lannes alerted and the car was searched. Only a spattering of marijuana seeds and buds were found on the floorboard. The most exciting thing to happen was a real surprise. We got the call of shots fired at a residence and we weren't far away. Deputy Blackwelder told me to hang on and he turned on the blue light and siren. At speeds well over 100mph we proceeded down #1Hwy. Then we were on a two lane side street. He said, "You know we're doing 85 in a 30mph zone." And I replied, "I figured that out a few miles back!"
Deputy Blackwelder was the perfect person to ride with for my research. He not only is the handler for Lannes, but he trains all the other dogs and handlers with the Sheriff's Dept. He's ex-military and while deployed worked with an explosives sniffing dog. If you think I'm painting him to be a real 'badass' it's because he really is. He's like the "dog whisperer" of Aiken County. He took time to answer all my questions and explain everything that happened on our ride along. So when I had a few more questions, I arranged another ride along with him on the midnight shift.
So rather than barricading myself indoors away from all the rain and winds we got from the hurricane last Friday night, I was on another ride along. It was a bit of a slow night because most people were holed up in their houses off the road. We did have one interesting call. A stolen car was spotted and a high speed pursuit was initiated by other deputies as we finished up the call we were on. Then it was blue lights and siren to get Lannes on scene for when they baled out of their car. Deputy Blackwelder said, "We're CODE 3 in a hurricane". The hurricane barely slowed us down since the deputy is such a good driver after all he is a defensive driving instructor at the Police Academy. The rain was pouring almost going sideways from all the wind and to the scene we went. I never worried for a minute. Like I said, he's pretty much a badass!
I ended my ride along about 1:30am and then had to brave the elements to drive home but I didn't mind a little hurricane weather. These ride alongs were not only essential to my research, but they were a lot of fun. A big thank you to Lannes, Deputy Blackwelder, and Sheriff Michael Hunt. I couldn't write my book without all of their assistance. And if you've got drugs moving through Aiken County, you might have occasion to meet the Badass and Lannes.
Lannes, a German Shepard, has been on the road since last November. Deputy Blackwelder introduced me to Lannes using only whisper commands the dog heeled by his side as I extended my hand which he promptly licked. We started the nighshift patrol and it wasn't long before I got to see Lannes in action. Every time the deputy got out of the SUV, Lannes was on his feet ready to go watching the deputy through the windshield. He got Lannes out to search a suspicious vehicle. The dog immediately alerted on the driver's side door and the deputy praised him but didn't him his reward because he needed to complete the "fresh air sniff" search (meaning from outside the vehicle and no probable cause is necessary). Around the other side I saw Lannes alert on the passenger side. At that point the deputy gave Lannes his reward - his ball. He then had probable cause and searched the interior of the car. whereupon he found several hypodermic needles which had traces of heroin. It was incredible that the dog got the scent from such a small amount of drugs. The next search was on a traffic stop on the interstate. Again, Lannes alerted and the car was searched. Only a spattering of marijuana seeds and buds were found on the floorboard. The most exciting thing to happen was a real surprise. We got the call of shots fired at a residence and we weren't far away. Deputy Blackwelder told me to hang on and he turned on the blue light and siren. At speeds well over 100mph we proceeded down #1Hwy. Then we were on a two lane side street. He said, "You know we're doing 85 in a 30mph zone." And I replied, "I figured that out a few miles back!"
Deputy Blackwelder was the perfect person to ride with for my research. He not only is the handler for Lannes, but he trains all the other dogs and handlers with the Sheriff's Dept. He's ex-military and while deployed worked with an explosives sniffing dog. If you think I'm painting him to be a real 'badass' it's because he really is. He's like the "dog whisperer" of Aiken County. He took time to answer all my questions and explain everything that happened on our ride along. So when I had a few more questions, I arranged another ride along with him on the midnight shift.
So rather than barricading myself indoors away from all the rain and winds we got from the hurricane last Friday night, I was on another ride along. It was a bit of a slow night because most people were holed up in their houses off the road. We did have one interesting call. A stolen car was spotted and a high speed pursuit was initiated by other deputies as we finished up the call we were on. Then it was blue lights and siren to get Lannes on scene for when they baled out of their car. Deputy Blackwelder said, "We're CODE 3 in a hurricane". The hurricane barely slowed us down since the deputy is such a good driver after all he is a defensive driving instructor at the Police Academy. The rain was pouring almost going sideways from all the wind and to the scene we went. I never worried for a minute. Like I said, he's pretty much a badass!
I ended my ride along about 1:30am and then had to brave the elements to drive home but I didn't mind a little hurricane weather. These ride alongs were not only essential to my research, but they were a lot of fun. A big thank you to Lannes, Deputy Blackwelder, and Sheriff Michael Hunt. I couldn't write my book without all of their assistance. And if you've got drugs moving through Aiken County, you might have occasion to meet the Badass and Lannes.
Tuesday, October 4, 2016
JUST A VESSEL
Just to recap, I recently posted the story of a man who has cancer and there's nothing more anyone could do. (**SEE MR TOMMY'S STORY). I went to help care for his dogs and while I was there I felt led to thank him and his wife for allowing me to help out because it is through helping others that I can allowed God's love to show through me. Mr. Tommy replied, "you should know I'm not a Christian". Normally I may have dropped the conversation right there, but the Holy Spirit took over and I shared my testimony of God having healed me.
I drove home crying and praying out loud to God asking for Mr. Tommy to be healed and that he should come to know Jesus. Many of you responded to a FB post asking for prayer. Well, the prayers worked. Today, I got an email that Mr. Tommy had asked Jesus into his heart and had asked him for forgiveness. I shed tears of joy and prayed prayers of thanksgiving upon hearing of this. So, my message in this post is that our prayers have been answered. However, there's something else.
I'm not the type to go into conversations about religion at every turn, but I don't hide my faith either. I was led to share my story by divine inspiration. The fact is that as Christians we must always act as if someone were watching because they are. You may never know the lives you can touch on any given day and that influence can be positive or negative. I didn't go to see Mr. Tommy in order to change his heart. I didn't know his heart, but God did and he used me as a vessel to show (not just tell) how powerful God is and can be.
I take no credit for the change in Mr Tommy. Perhaps something I shared helped bring him to believe but just as a vessel can't take credit for how pure the water is, neither can I take credit. How often have I felt this tug on my heart that a stranger needs a kind hello or needs to get ahead of me in the grocery line. I'm sorry to say that I haven't always heeded these messages. I have asked God many times why he healed me, what was left for me to do here on earth. The fact is I may not know until I see Jesus face to face exactly what my true purpose was. But I have learned my lesson. When God says be a prayer warrior, I'll stop what I'm doing and I will pray. When the Holy Spirit nudges me to tell my testimony I'd better do it no matter if I know the person or not.
I'm not perfect. I struggle with questions some days and all I can do is pray for discernment. I now fully understand that God has a plan for all of us and we may influence others positively or negatively depending upon our actions and our words. We should all pray each day that God use us for his glory. We should graciously become a vessel for God's love.
God Bless
I drove home crying and praying out loud to God asking for Mr. Tommy to be healed and that he should come to know Jesus. Many of you responded to a FB post asking for prayer. Well, the prayers worked. Today, I got an email that Mr. Tommy had asked Jesus into his heart and had asked him for forgiveness. I shed tears of joy and prayed prayers of thanksgiving upon hearing of this. So, my message in this post is that our prayers have been answered. However, there's something else.
I'm not the type to go into conversations about religion at every turn, but I don't hide my faith either. I was led to share my story by divine inspiration. The fact is that as Christians we must always act as if someone were watching because they are. You may never know the lives you can touch on any given day and that influence can be positive or negative. I didn't go to see Mr. Tommy in order to change his heart. I didn't know his heart, but God did and he used me as a vessel to show (not just tell) how powerful God is and can be.
I take no credit for the change in Mr Tommy. Perhaps something I shared helped bring him to believe but just as a vessel can't take credit for how pure the water is, neither can I take credit. How often have I felt this tug on my heart that a stranger needs a kind hello or needs to get ahead of me in the grocery line. I'm sorry to say that I haven't always heeded these messages. I have asked God many times why he healed me, what was left for me to do here on earth. The fact is I may not know until I see Jesus face to face exactly what my true purpose was. But I have learned my lesson. When God says be a prayer warrior, I'll stop what I'm doing and I will pray. When the Holy Spirit nudges me to tell my testimony I'd better do it no matter if I know the person or not.
I'm not perfect. I struggle with questions some days and all I can do is pray for discernment. I now fully understand that God has a plan for all of us and we may influence others positively or negatively depending upon our actions and our words. We should all pray each day that God use us for his glory. We should graciously become a vessel for God's love.
God Bless
Thursday, September 29, 2016
SCHOOL SHOOTING IN SOUTH CAROLINA
As I'm sure many of you saw on the news and all over social media, there was a school shooting incident in South Carolina yesterday. It happened in a little farm town near Anderson and Clemson University. A 14yr old boy who was himself homeschooled killed his father in his home. He then continued to the nearby Elementary school where his mother was a teacher. He approached the playground out back where the students were having recess. He fired shots and struck his mother and two six year old children. Luckily, an off duty 30 year veteran firefighter happened to witness then and proceeded to tackle and apprehend the teen with no further injuries by stopping him from firing at anymore students and keeping from entering the school. He is a real hero and saved many lives with his heroism.
I watched a live news feed on FB while police investigated the crime scene with reporters giving frequent updates. below the feed comments were being posted from all over the world. Most were joining in the call for prayer that God would watch over the wounded. The thing that I got most upset about were posts from people making 'reverse racism' remarks. One stated, "Just more stupid white people doing stupid stuff". Another said, "if the shooter were white he wouldn't have gotten arrested, he would have been shot by some white cop". And then there was one who said, "blacks don't shoot at schools". This was the tragic shooting where innocent little children were hurt so what did race have to do with it? I certainly would not get away with saying the same things about blacks or Al Sharpton would be on my lawn doing a press conference. There is no place or time when these racist remarks should be tolerated but especially not when little children were hurt.
School shootings have increased since the Columbine and Virginia Tech incidents and after all this time no one has come up with a way to prevent them in the future. A metal detector at doorways is a good tool, but wouldn't have helped here because he was on the playground. We can't, as some people suggested yesterday, arm all teachers with guns. Usually, the guns the shooters use are from their own homes. I don't suggest making guns illegal because criminals would just buy them illegally. Parents need to not only keep their guns in locked safes or gun cabinets but they need to not let their children even know they own a gun or hide where the gun(s) are kept. This is a protective measure we employ in our house but for a different reason. My father is an ex-cop who has a concealed weapon permit but I have no idea where he keeps the gun. No, I'm not a child or a danger to myself or others, at least not consciously. You see, I sleepwalk and I have done some very strange things while asleep. One night about a year ago, I had a serious sleepwalking episode. I closed a gate we use to keep the dogs from going out the front door, I turned off our security alarm and was headed out the front door with my car keys in hand wearing only a nightgown. My mother heard the alarm being turned off and came quickly to stop me from leaving. She asked what I was doing at 3am. I told her I was late for school. She told me it was the middle of the night and so I said OK and went to bed. Since then I leave my keys in her room at night as a safety precaution.
People do have the right to own guns for their own protection but there's no need for a kid to even know about the presence of a gun in the home. Also, it's easier to get a gun than to get a driver's license. At least to drive you have to prove you know how before the DMV says have at it. Gun owners should have to be trained to use the weapon and the police should be able to do drop by spot checks of licensed gun owners to make them prove the weapon is secured and not accessible to children who live or just visit the home. To me that makes more sense than arming every teacher in America.
We also should prosecute the parents of school shooters if the parent's gun was used. It is their responsibility to make sure their guns don't end up in a kid's hands. We also should require certification training required of school guidance counselors that would familiarize them on warning signs to look for in the students they counsel. I hate to say it but to me school shootings are a symptom of the breakdown of moral fiber in this country and the lack of good family values in God centered homes.
As a country, we need to get pro-active on school violence instead of just re-active like we are now. For now all I can do is share my ideas here and hopefully spark some sort of intelligent discussion of how to solve this problem hopefully before it happens again. There is one more thing I can do and that is pray. I pray for all the children traumatized by yesterday's shooting and I pray for our country that maybe it's not too late for us to put God first in this country. Until we do that, evil stands a chance to prevail.
God Bless
I watched a live news feed on FB while police investigated the crime scene with reporters giving frequent updates. below the feed comments were being posted from all over the world. Most were joining in the call for prayer that God would watch over the wounded. The thing that I got most upset about were posts from people making 'reverse racism' remarks. One stated, "Just more stupid white people doing stupid stuff". Another said, "if the shooter were white he wouldn't have gotten arrested, he would have been shot by some white cop". And then there was one who said, "blacks don't shoot at schools". This was the tragic shooting where innocent little children were hurt so what did race have to do with it? I certainly would not get away with saying the same things about blacks or Al Sharpton would be on my lawn doing a press conference. There is no place or time when these racist remarks should be tolerated but especially not when little children were hurt.
School shootings have increased since the Columbine and Virginia Tech incidents and after all this time no one has come up with a way to prevent them in the future. A metal detector at doorways is a good tool, but wouldn't have helped here because he was on the playground. We can't, as some people suggested yesterday, arm all teachers with guns. Usually, the guns the shooters use are from their own homes. I don't suggest making guns illegal because criminals would just buy them illegally. Parents need to not only keep their guns in locked safes or gun cabinets but they need to not let their children even know they own a gun or hide where the gun(s) are kept. This is a protective measure we employ in our house but for a different reason. My father is an ex-cop who has a concealed weapon permit but I have no idea where he keeps the gun. No, I'm not a child or a danger to myself or others, at least not consciously. You see, I sleepwalk and I have done some very strange things while asleep. One night about a year ago, I had a serious sleepwalking episode. I closed a gate we use to keep the dogs from going out the front door, I turned off our security alarm and was headed out the front door with my car keys in hand wearing only a nightgown. My mother heard the alarm being turned off and came quickly to stop me from leaving. She asked what I was doing at 3am. I told her I was late for school. She told me it was the middle of the night and so I said OK and went to bed. Since then I leave my keys in her room at night as a safety precaution.
People do have the right to own guns for their own protection but there's no need for a kid to even know about the presence of a gun in the home. Also, it's easier to get a gun than to get a driver's license. At least to drive you have to prove you know how before the DMV says have at it. Gun owners should have to be trained to use the weapon and the police should be able to do drop by spot checks of licensed gun owners to make them prove the weapon is secured and not accessible to children who live or just visit the home. To me that makes more sense than arming every teacher in America.
We also should prosecute the parents of school shooters if the parent's gun was used. It is their responsibility to make sure their guns don't end up in a kid's hands. We also should require certification training required of school guidance counselors that would familiarize them on warning signs to look for in the students they counsel. I hate to say it but to me school shootings are a symptom of the breakdown of moral fiber in this country and the lack of good family values in God centered homes.
As a country, we need to get pro-active on school violence instead of just re-active like we are now. For now all I can do is share my ideas here and hopefully spark some sort of intelligent discussion of how to solve this problem hopefully before it happens again. There is one more thing I can do and that is pray. I pray for all the children traumatized by yesterday's shooting and I pray for our country that maybe it's not too late for us to put God first in this country. Until we do that, evil stands a chance to prevail.
God Bless
Sunday, September 25, 2016
ALMOST FATAL
I was very abruptly confronted face to face with my own mortality this morning. I had to go out early to feed dogs I was dog sitting. As I drove away from their house, I had a feeling (no it was a message to my heart) and it said you need to pray. So I sat for a minute, turned off the radio and began to talk to God. He's used to me talking to him from the car, by the way. I thanked God for the beautiful day and then said, "I don't know why, Lord but I need for you to watch over me and help me arrive home safe".
I was only a 10 minute drive from home so this feeling of needing to pray surprised me. I understood the why only 5 minutes into my drive home. I was going 40 - 45 MPH within the speed limit and no cars in front of me. In the oncoming lane, a car was holding up traffic to turn left into a church parking lot. As I got closer, maybe five car lengths away, the little old lady driving that turning car turned right in front of me. Now, I drive a large SUV so I'm not exactly hard to see coming.
I reacted on pure instinct, going back to defensive driving techniques my dad taught me when he was a cop. I slammed my Anti-lock brakes started to skid and cut the steering wheel hard to the left hand lane. Miraculously, the car jolted to a stop only inches from the other car's passenger door as the driver continued her very slow turn in front of me. My SUV was almost completely sideways from my cutting the wheel so sharp. Thank God my Ford Escape is a heavy vehicle or else I could have flipped it on its side.
I've heard of people in accidents having their lives flash before their eyes, but mine didn't. My daughter's life (her future marriage, her children and husband, her career) is what flashed because I knew I'd probably never see that. I also in a moment thought, "When is the last time I told my parents and my sister and daughter how much they mean to me?" I was shaking as I drove the rest of the way home praising God the whole way for saving me from the crash.
I get those feelings of needing to pray quite often. If I can, I stop what I'm doing and pray to God for
whatever his angels have put on my heart. I'm not crazy, delusional, or otherwise a nut case. I believe God sends his angels as messengers to speak to our soul. No matter what rationalizations non-believers may argue to me, I know something supernatural, not of this world kept me from harm's way this morning.
God Bless and please leave comments or click to follow future posts.
I was only a 10 minute drive from home so this feeling of needing to pray surprised me. I understood the why only 5 minutes into my drive home. I was going 40 - 45 MPH within the speed limit and no cars in front of me. In the oncoming lane, a car was holding up traffic to turn left into a church parking lot. As I got closer, maybe five car lengths away, the little old lady driving that turning car turned right in front of me. Now, I drive a large SUV so I'm not exactly hard to see coming.
I reacted on pure instinct, going back to defensive driving techniques my dad taught me when he was a cop. I slammed my Anti-lock brakes started to skid and cut the steering wheel hard to the left hand lane. Miraculously, the car jolted to a stop only inches from the other car's passenger door as the driver continued her very slow turn in front of me. My SUV was almost completely sideways from my cutting the wheel so sharp. Thank God my Ford Escape is a heavy vehicle or else I could have flipped it on its side.
I've heard of people in accidents having their lives flash before their eyes, but mine didn't. My daughter's life (her future marriage, her children and husband, her career) is what flashed because I knew I'd probably never see that. I also in a moment thought, "When is the last time I told my parents and my sister and daughter how much they mean to me?" I was shaking as I drove the rest of the way home praising God the whole way for saving me from the crash.
I get those feelings of needing to pray quite often. If I can, I stop what I'm doing and pray to God for
whatever his angels have put on my heart. I'm not crazy, delusional, or otherwise a nut case. I believe God sends his angels as messengers to speak to our soul. No matter what rationalizations non-believers may argue to me, I know something supernatural, not of this world kept me from harm's way this morning.
God Bless and please leave comments or click to follow future posts.
Saturday, September 17, 2016
ONE RED BIRD
“Give me that! Everybody comes in here wanting to get rid of all my stuff,” Grandma said as she snatched a two year outdated Medicare information book from my hands and proceeded to throw it at my head with as much might as her 91 year old body could muster.
I deflected the blow with a quick wrist but nothing could mend the stab to my heart. This wasn’t my Grandma that I’d loved and cherished for over forty years. I started sobbing as my mom came over to embrace me. I said, “Mom, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I did.”
“Baby,” Mom said, “you didn’t do anything. You just haven’t been here. You haven’t seen how bad she’s gotten.”
“I .. just…..” I stammered through tears, “.. want .. to . leave.”
“Honey,” Mom said, “She’s not the same since the dementia started. “It just keeps getting worse. We’re leaving soon. You just stay out here by the car and calm down. And stop crying sugar. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
On the twenty minute ride home, I replayed the episode over and over. I thought of her frequent complaints that her oldest son, and his son, (her grandson) were always yelling at her like a child and stealing her belongings to throw them away, could possibly not be the whole truth. In fact, my cousin being a confirmed bachelor had moved into her spare bedroom to help take care of her several years before.
I had spent the last eleven years living out of state over a thousand miles away with my daughter and husband and my last visit had been 4 years before. My Mom had relayed Grandma’s progressive loss of memory (particularly short term) during our phone chats, but I had no idea how serious and rapidly her condition was spiraling down. After my divorced in 2011, I moved back to be near my family.
My parents and uncle are in charge of managing Grandma’s daily affairs. There was no way to avoid Grandma’s dementia. It had become a part of my life. Although I had a little experience with dementia, I didn’t realize that dementia can present differently depending on the person.
My Great-Uncle had dementia for many years and it was of a very rapid progression. When I saw him on the last family visit, it broke my heart. His dementia seemed to have trapped this sweet 80 year old man’s body with the mind of a 4 year old. He had difficulty communicating, but when he did it was with a sweetness and innocence to what he said. I’ll never forget the struggling frustration in his eyes as he searched his mind for the exact words. But no matter how long the right string of words just wouldn’t come remaining elusive and just beyond his reach. Angry outbursts were very rare and usually at home directed at his wife. Unfortunately, we lost this wonderful man in November of 2011.
Grandma came to visit after the book throwing incident. It was obvious that Mom had mentioned what she did. Grandma settled on the couch and said, “Come here, darling. I need to talk to you.”
Her eyes were red and tiny tears tipped over the bottom lid begin maneuvering the ever slow luge-like tracks of her wrinkled face. “What’s wrong Grandma?”
“I know I hurt your feelings. But I can’t for the life of me remember what I did.”
“Grandma,” I said as I wrapped her tiny, skeleton-like hand in mine, “That’s completely in the past. I forgive you.”
Grandma continued speaking through silent tears and said. “I love you so much. You are the last person I’d ever want to hurt.”
“It’s OK, Grandma. I love you.”
I thought back to a day when Grandma screamed at the top of her voice and swung her cane at my mother. Were all these incidents all caused be the dementia, or could it be frustration with her limitations? Either way it’s the family members who must adjust.
I decided then and there that the cause didn’t matter. This was not the Grandma I’d known and loved my whole life. All I could do was love her as she was at this moment. Only God knew how much longer we would have her with us. On a daily basis it was the family that must be flexible and adjust because the disease has taken away the ability to change and/or understand. Dementia, no matter what kind or how mild or severe, it is indeed a body snatcher.
I leaned over and lightly kissed her tear stained cheek and embraced her fragile frame. “Grandma, I love you and you love me. That’s all that matters at the end of the day.”
Five years later, her refusal to cooperate with us about eating and hygiene among other things made dealing with Grandma's tantrums extremely difficult. One day a few months ago, she was staying with us for the weekend because her grandson had to go out of town. Every day, several times a day she would complain that she wanted to go home. We tried to explain that she was incapable of staying alone and she would then pout and refuse to speak to us. I admit on a couple of occasions, I lost my temper and would yell and explain and do everything short of shaking sense into her. I felt bad that I lost my cool but when I apologized to her, she had no memory of what I was talking about.
Grandma died just a few weeks before her 95th birthday. She was survived by two sons: my father, and my his older brother. Their younger brother passed away 11 years before. Unfortunately, truth be told some of the family descended like vultures on Grandma's house immediately after the post funeral dinner thrown by the ladies of my Grandma's church. My dad told them that no-one was going through her house that day. We decided everyone could come and stake their claim on any furniture, pictures, and bric-a-brac (which Grandma had in the form of porcelain birds) the following Saturday. She probably had a couple hundred birds on shelves through out the house. There were some sentimental things but nothing of incredible value.
So the following Saturday was the set clean up day. I didn't go for two reasons. One, I was still recovering from a hospital stay and Grandma's house had no air conditioning. Second, I find it distasteful to go through my Grandma's things and bring home things I had no room to display. My dad went to oversee the clean up and took my daughter with him.
When they got home, my daughter told me, "Mom I know you said you didn't want anything, but I brought this bird for you in case you change your mind."
I started to cry because it was a red bird, which were Grandma's favorite birds. Every time all my life if I saw a red bird I'd think of Grandma and then I'd make a wish. The old wives tale is that if you make your wish before he flies away it will come true. I put the little red bird on a shelf by my bed. I'm so thankful that my daughter didn't listen to me but rather knew once my grief had subsided a bit I might regret not having something to remember Grandma.
I loved my Grandma, and I'll always miss her. She lived a long healthy life nearly 95 years. She led a good life and I know she's finally reunited with my Grandpa who died almost 50 years before her; I hope she knew how much I loved her. I find myself talking to her whenever I see her bird. I'll always cherish that one red bird.
I deflected the blow with a quick wrist but nothing could mend the stab to my heart. This wasn’t my Grandma that I’d loved and cherished for over forty years. I started sobbing as my mom came over to embrace me. I said, “Mom, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I did.”
“Baby,” Mom said, “you didn’t do anything. You just haven’t been here. You haven’t seen how bad she’s gotten.”
“I .. just…..” I stammered through tears, “.. want .. to . leave.”
“Honey,” Mom said, “She’s not the same since the dementia started. “It just keeps getting worse. We’re leaving soon. You just stay out here by the car and calm down. And stop crying sugar. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
On the twenty minute ride home, I replayed the episode over and over. I thought of her frequent complaints that her oldest son, and his son, (her grandson) were always yelling at her like a child and stealing her belongings to throw them away, could possibly not be the whole truth. In fact, my cousin being a confirmed bachelor had moved into her spare bedroom to help take care of her several years before.
I had spent the last eleven years living out of state over a thousand miles away with my daughter and husband and my last visit had been 4 years before. My Mom had relayed Grandma’s progressive loss of memory (particularly short term) during our phone chats, but I had no idea how serious and rapidly her condition was spiraling down. After my divorced in 2011, I moved back to be near my family.
My parents and uncle are in charge of managing Grandma’s daily affairs. There was no way to avoid Grandma’s dementia. It had become a part of my life. Although I had a little experience with dementia, I didn’t realize that dementia can present differently depending on the person.
My Great-Uncle had dementia for many years and it was of a very rapid progression. When I saw him on the last family visit, it broke my heart. His dementia seemed to have trapped this sweet 80 year old man’s body with the mind of a 4 year old. He had difficulty communicating, but when he did it was with a sweetness and innocence to what he said. I’ll never forget the struggling frustration in his eyes as he searched his mind for the exact words. But no matter how long the right string of words just wouldn’t come remaining elusive and just beyond his reach. Angry outbursts were very rare and usually at home directed at his wife. Unfortunately, we lost this wonderful man in November of 2011.
Grandma came to visit after the book throwing incident. It was obvious that Mom had mentioned what she did. Grandma settled on the couch and said, “Come here, darling. I need to talk to you.”
Her eyes were red and tiny tears tipped over the bottom lid begin maneuvering the ever slow luge-like tracks of her wrinkled face. “What’s wrong Grandma?”
“I know I hurt your feelings. But I can’t for the life of me remember what I did.”
“Grandma,” I said as I wrapped her tiny, skeleton-like hand in mine, “That’s completely in the past. I forgive you.”
Grandma continued speaking through silent tears and said. “I love you so much. You are the last person I’d ever want to hurt.”
“It’s OK, Grandma. I love you.”
I thought back to a day when Grandma screamed at the top of her voice and swung her cane at my mother. Were all these incidents all caused be the dementia, or could it be frustration with her limitations? Either way it’s the family members who must adjust.
I decided then and there that the cause didn’t matter. This was not the Grandma I’d known and loved my whole life. All I could do was love her as she was at this moment. Only God knew how much longer we would have her with us. On a daily basis it was the family that must be flexible and adjust because the disease has taken away the ability to change and/or understand. Dementia, no matter what kind or how mild or severe, it is indeed a body snatcher.
I leaned over and lightly kissed her tear stained cheek and embraced her fragile frame. “Grandma, I love you and you love me. That’s all that matters at the end of the day.”
Five years later, her refusal to cooperate with us about eating and hygiene among other things made dealing with Grandma's tantrums extremely difficult. One day a few months ago, she was staying with us for the weekend because her grandson had to go out of town. Every day, several times a day she would complain that she wanted to go home. We tried to explain that she was incapable of staying alone and she would then pout and refuse to speak to us. I admit on a couple of occasions, I lost my temper and would yell and explain and do everything short of shaking sense into her. I felt bad that I lost my cool but when I apologized to her, she had no memory of what I was talking about.
Grandma died just a few weeks before her 95th birthday. She was survived by two sons: my father, and my his older brother. Their younger brother passed away 11 years before. Unfortunately, truth be told some of the family descended like vultures on Grandma's house immediately after the post funeral dinner thrown by the ladies of my Grandma's church. My dad told them that no-one was going through her house that day. We decided everyone could come and stake their claim on any furniture, pictures, and bric-a-brac (which Grandma had in the form of porcelain birds) the following Saturday. She probably had a couple hundred birds on shelves through out the house. There were some sentimental things but nothing of incredible value.
So the following Saturday was the set clean up day. I didn't go for two reasons. One, I was still recovering from a hospital stay and Grandma's house had no air conditioning. Second, I find it distasteful to go through my Grandma's things and bring home things I had no room to display. My dad went to oversee the clean up and took my daughter with him.
When they got home, my daughter told me, "Mom I know you said you didn't want anything, but I brought this bird for you in case you change your mind."
I started to cry because it was a red bird, which were Grandma's favorite birds. Every time all my life if I saw a red bird I'd think of Grandma and then I'd make a wish. The old wives tale is that if you make your wish before he flies away it will come true. I put the little red bird on a shelf by my bed. I'm so thankful that my daughter didn't listen to me but rather knew once my grief had subsided a bit I might regret not having something to remember Grandma.
I loved my Grandma, and I'll always miss her. She lived a long healthy life nearly 95 years. She led a good life and I know she's finally reunited with my Grandpa who died almost 50 years before her; I hope she knew how much I loved her. I find myself talking to her whenever I see her bird. I'll always cherish that one red bird.
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