My Summer Living In A Homeless Shelter: How I Got There, & How I Got Through It

A couple of years ago, I was doing commercial cleaning as part of a crew sent by a labor staffing agency to the big convention center and arena downtown. The available work hours would vary, depending upon what events were scheduled there. It was humble, honest, hard work; for minimum wage. Having entered my sixties by that time, I was dealing with some aches and pains in general, although I try very hard to maintain good health overall, especially since I live independently. So, I was careful to do proactive protection of my body, for each shift, trying to lessen the wear and tear on me due to this very physical job. I put on back and knee braces, taped my hands to protect and strengthen them (underneath the disposable gloves provided at the site), packed foods which would re-energize me as much as possible during the shift's meal break, and I took some aspirin with me for the pain in my body that inevitably set in from the toll this demanding work took on me. I also usually walked to work and back, over a mile and a half each way. When I would head home at the end of a shift, I was in such pain throughout my body, despite the precautions I took, that I literally could barely put one foot in front of the other to walk back. I prayed, as I shuffled along through the empty streets of downtown in the deep dark of the overnight hours, just for the strength I needed to be able to do that! Sometimes I had to just stop, along the way, until I could will myself enough, once again, to push through the sheer exhaustion I felt. Besides wrecking my body for several days after each shift, from the stiffness and soreness, I was increasingly losing my ability to use my right hand at all, due to this job. I could barely hold a glass to drink from or my toothbrush to brush my teeth, or almost anything else I needed to be able to do with it. I had pushed my body past its limits, and it was betraying me as a result.

To add insult to the injury, I kept getting more and more behind financially even though I was taking all the shifts I could get, trying to survive, despite my almost constant pain now from doing that. When I did have days off I was actively job hunting for something less wearing on me, as I could clearly see by this point that the end was near for my being able to do this cleaning job anymore. I could not afford to risk permanently losing the use of my right hand, especially because, again, I live independently and have to be able to do everything myself that needs to be done. By the start of Memorial Day weekend, I still had not found another job, could not keep doing this one, and as I hung up the phone after discussing my situation with someone, I said out loud to myself as I suddenly realized it that "I am going homeless". Packing up all my belongings, I rented a U-Haul truck, and put everything into a storage unit except a few of my clothes and some toiletries to take to a shelter with me. While I wasn't at all sure of anything about that process at the time, I recognized that it was imminently approaching now, for me. The lady that managed the storage facility very kindly offered to care for my houseplants during this upheaval, keeping them lined up right there in her office window, and, when I returned my rental truck, the lady working there offered to drive me over to the homeless shelter in her car. God's grace was with me!

I understand that many people would probably be feeling sorry for themselves or really upset at this turn of events, if it were happening in their lives. But I didn't. By this time in my life, I was long past being either an uninitiated Christian or a carnal one. Those quite often want God to bless their will rather than assert His and expect them to obey Him. They want God in their lives, as long as He seems to be their Blessing Machine--- rather like a Spiritual Santa. They are prone to lose faith in Him extremely easily, becoming disillusioned with Him, especially if events seem to turn negative in their lives. Trusting God in all things, at all times, is impossible, for them! They will turn on God, and walk away from Him altogether, thinking He really doesn't care, if He doesn't make things go their way. I know these things because I used to be like that myself, years ago.

Now, I was trusting completely that God was with me in and through these things, as I walked up to the door of the homeless shelter, for the first time in my life, after being buzzed through the locked outer gate. I was ushered into the office there for the intake process. The director asked several questions in her interview with me, and informed me about the policies in place for anyone staying there. I felt more than a little weary from all that I had just been through: packing up everything I owned and moving out of my apartment in a hectic manner; sleeping in a Walmart parking lot, the night before this, in the rental truck that held all my belongings, with a thunderstorm booming and flashing all around as I lay across the seat trying to sleep some through all that; and finally, unloading everything into storage earlier this same day that I was now entering the shelter. However, I arrived there with my smile and my sense of humor intact! During my intake, the director laughed at one of my humorous responses to her rather dry-but-required questionnaire, and she said, "That's a good one! I'm going to steal that one and use it myself!" to which I grinned and, looking about in feigned furtiveness, replied, "Well, it's my first time in a homeless shelter, but I'm pretty sure stealing is not allowed here." She laughed again; and there I was, laughing with her! Homeless. In a women's shelter. Laughing and smiling during the intake process. I just knew-- confidently-- that I had done the best I could, and that I was here despite that; that since this did happen, and was happening, that God had a Plan for this chapter in my life. The way I viewed it was that God had paid a huge and horrible price, for me personally, to redeem my life! Because He paid that price for my life, He therefore owned it, and could do whatever He wanted to with it. [" Don’t you realize that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, who lives in you and was given to you by God? You do not belong to yourself, for God bought you with a high price. So you must honor God with your body."  -  1 Corinthians 6:19 - 20  New Living Translation]

I wasn't down; I was just really tired, physically. Actually, although no one (including myself) likely ever wants to be in a shelter, I was there, and therefore I also felt an excitement and anticipation for what God would surely be doing in and through this situation! I was clearly not in control of all this, nor did I even want to be. Right then, all I wanted was to get some sleep. Because I didn't have children with me, or physical handicaps which minimized my mobility, requiring an actual bed, I was sent to sleep in 'the mat room' during my stay at the shelter. This was a large, open room where a fluctuating number of women, depending on the need each night, slept on floor mats. I was also issued a large, plastic trash bag with my name written on it in black marker, to store any personal belongings in, along with the linens issued to me, while I was staying at the shelter. With that simple start, I was settled in. Being as tired as I was, it wasn't hard to fall asleep.

For meals, I went with the others staying at the women's shelter to the cafeteria, which was across the street in another building that also housed the homeless men. Before every meal there, those running it would first make any announcements and then ask if anyone would like to pray grace for the meal gathering, which was a mixture of the men, women, and children. From the very first meal I had there, and for many meals during my stay there, I raised my hand without hesitation, then stood up to pray for the food and for us all, when I was chosen to do so. I quickly developed a reputation as the lady that likes to pray! Although these were short prayers, I prayed from my heart with sincere gratitude to God. That created an unintentional eloquence that people there told me touched their hearts and made them feel that a real relationship with God was possible for them also, since they clearly saw and sensed that in me. At times, volunteers were requested to help serve food, clean up the cafeteria and do other tasks, for the multiple sittings needed to accommodate everyone getting fed. The times I did that, I brought a bright smile and friendly, respectful energy to it, which they told me afterward had been so needed there.

All I was doing was reflecting God's Love to others. He poured His Love into me, which I gratefully received, and from the overflowing of His generous Grace toward me, I then had that available to pour out to others. At times, other shelter guests would stop me in a hallway and say, "I want to have a relationship with God like you do! I can tell it isn't just 'religion' with you. I can see it's real!". Or they would say, "Can you tell me the secret to Bible study, so I can see the things in it that you do? You just quote all these verses, and they make a lot of sense the way you explain them to us. Here's my Bible! Show me! I never got excited before about mine the way I see you do. Will you teach me?". Once I was walking back to the women's shelter after eating when a homeless woman in her wheelchair rolled up to me and asked me if I would pray for her. I knelt down to be level with where she sat and prayed right there on the sidewalk, as her friends who were walking with her stood by.

As there's no real privacy in a homeless shelter, there were times I would try to remove myself from the group, to the extent that was even possible, for some time alone to praise God and pray about my own situation as well as for others. Staying centered on Him was my focus throughout! (Even Jesus had to get away from the crowd and do that, at times, when He was on Earth, as ministry to others draws a lot out of someone, which must be replenished to be able to continue to do it, and to do it thoughtfully and well.) It was important to maintain my own close walk with God so that I could stay on track and not compromise it some way by becoming distanced from Him. I was in no way trying to be ostentatious by this; I needed it for my very survival!

Sometimes other women would say to me afterward that they saw me doing that and knew I was talking to God then. Some did come to sit by me, and ask me about God and my relationship with Him, and I would also tell them about God's love for them! Even when I was screaming inside, from lack of privacy, during the nearly two months that I was living in that crowded environment, I usually didn't turn them away, although a couple of times I did ask them if they would mind waiting a few minutes, for me. I was always aware that these were God-given moments that may never present themselves again. A few of the women staying there even prayed with me to receive Christ as their Savior; a truly life-changing decision! I was overjoyed to see God at work in the lives of these other hurting people, including through my willingness to be used for His purposes.

During my stay there, I also volunteered at a small Catholic church's food and clothing pantry, which was about a block from the shelter. I had worked in mall department stores for years, in retail sales, and that skill set now helped me sort and organize clothes, and assist the homeless and others that came in with finding properly fitting items, et cetera. I had always enjoyed and been recognized for providing excellent customer service, which happened simply through my treating others as I would want to be treated-- another godly directive! I also helped the lady in charge there sort food into boxes which the parish then distributed to needy families around town that called asking for help. I stayed busy doing all I could to be of help to others, through God's providing these opportunities for me to show His Love. I looked at all the people around me at the shelter site through God's compassionate look of Love. There were all kinds of people staying in the homeless shelter. All ages, from unborn to elderly. Black, White, Hispanic, Asian, Native American. Drug addicted; mentally ill; domestic abuse victims. Some of these women were caring and virtuous, and others were thieves and liars. There were people there that were aerosol huffers, manipulators, bitches, contentious, aloof, agitated, distraught, ditsy, calm, matter-of-fact, sociable, pleasant, funny, and everything you can imagine; and some that you probably can't imagine. A few of them were even kicked out for some outlandish acts!

There was a young woman staying there that told me she had done a lot of hard drugs in her past and that at some point these had damaged her brain. So, she would be talking with me or someone else staying at the shelter, in a normal conversation, then suddenly with no warning trail off into talking to herself (or rather, someone she seemed, by her words, to imagine or hallucinate as being there with her) about some completely different topic. She often sounded very upset during that; fussing and cussing at whomever she was talking to in her head. Listening to her words, then, it was clear to me she'd also been traumatized. This happened frequently with her, causing many of the other women to shun her, writing her off' as "crazy", or avoiding her because this just unnerved them when it would happen. As unsettling as it was, I stayed right there with her, when it happened around me, although I didn't think she was even aware of my presence when these episodes occurred. Some women also shunned me, then, because I didn't reject her like they did, but I didn't care at all about that. She was a truly delightful, refreshingly honest young woman, and I liked her a lot! She and I never spoke of these episodes at all, so I wasn't sure whether she was even aware of them, and I did not want to make her self-conscious by asking about it, or cause her to be uncomfortable in any way. We all had enough to deal with by being in the homeless shelter, and each trying to figure out how to move on with our lives. 

Then, one day, as I was sitting at a cafeteria table eating with her and a few of the other women, she suddenly switched into this odd, out loud conversation with some invisible person, again. I continued on normally with my behavior and meal as if nothing was out of the ordinary at all, respecting her dignity as a person, because I refused to treat her like a Freak Show as many did. While the other women at the table exchanged glances with one another and shut down in discomfort while they quickly finished their meal, I just reacted around her as I would around anybody not having this issue, because I felt in my spirit that was the right thing to do about this. What happened next amazed me so much I almost cried. While the other women had finished eating and left us, I stayed with her there until she eventually came out of it, so we could go back to the shelter together. As we walked, she suddenly turned and looked at me and said, very directly, "Thank you for not turning on me and rejecting me, like these other women do when I start talking to myself like I do. I can't control it, and it makes people avoid me all the time. But you have never stopped being my friend!" I was shocked, as I did not think she was even aware that she was doing that, first of all! And secondly, I was deeply touched, because now she was telling me that she knows it happens to her, and is painfully aware that people reject her over it, but that she also knew and appreciated that I never rejected her, which meant a lot to her! God's Love, shown through me, was making a real difference while I was in the homeless shelter. I was humbled by that. Truly grateful.

Another young woman, quite pregnant while at the shelter, disappeared from there for a few days, and when I no longer saw her there, I hoped her situation with the baby's father might have worked out, or such, and that she left for a happier life. (We all wanted our lives to improve so that we could get out of there and back to some more regular way of living.) This particular woman had told me off a couple of times, in the shelter, snapping at me for no reason, which was unpleasant for me but she was pregnant and her condition certainly added to her stress. She did not seem to like me at all, but it was God's Love I was showing everyone in the shelter and He never stops loving any of us. Ever. Then one day, I saw her back there again, sitting in a chair in the waiting room of the social services building that we each were required to go to during our shelter stay for needed help to obtain housing, et cetera, in order to end our homelessness. I went over to sit by her, and saw she hadn't left the shelter to have the baby as she was still very pregnant. I told her I was glad to see her and had wondered what happened to her when she left there. In a panicky voice, with a desperate look in her eyes she told me, "I left here and went back around the very people I had no business being around in the first place. I had stayed off drugs ever since I knew I was pregnant, but I ended up smoking some really strong shit, Deborah, and I got so high I didn't even know where I was . . . or what my name was . . . and I was so scared! So, when I came down from that, I came back." Horrified for her, and the baby inside her, I prayed powerful prayers for her, right then and there, in what was clearly spiritual warfare for both her body and soul! I especially prayed the strong, sure Word of God over her, to keep her in God's care, because the Bible is God's Truth and states in Isaiah 55:11 that 'God's Word goes forth from Him and never returns to Him void, but accomplishes all that He pleases and purposes for it to do'. The spiritual battle between goodness and evil in our lives is no joke. I wasn't 'playing church' as I prayed for this troubled young woman and her unborn child, both of whom God loves dearly!

One night, I sat up on my mat in frustration, unable to sleep because several of the current occupants snored! As I looked around the room at them, I noticed another woman, two rows from me, also sitting up for the same reason, looking very annoyed. As we looked at one another, helplessly, I realized that each snorer had a different style and tone of snore from the others. So, suddenly inspired, I grinned then at the other sleepless woman, raised my arms up in an orchestra conductor's pose, and began 'directing' this symphony of snorers, for a few moments, as the other woman sat smiling at my antics. It relieved us of our previously negative mindset about it, and we were then able to fall asleep! (Our attitude, which we choose, is one of our most important assets, or liabilities, in life.)

Another particular night, I went, along with the rest of the women sleeping in 'the mat room', to get ready for bed, as the shelter specified a bedtime in there so that everyone could have enough peace and quiet-- hopefully!-- to get some sleep. Before Lights Out, I sat on my mat, looking around that big room filled with several rows of women each doing their own thing on their mat. A couple were talking on their cell phones; a couple more were texting. One was putting her hair in curlers; another was filing her nails. A couple were writing letters or journaling. One had her earpiece in, moving to some music she was listening to. Some were reading. A couple were talking together softly. I looked over at the feisty black woman, about my age, that I had become friends with there virtually from the day I arrived. (She called me "Angel", insisting that she would not call me anything else because when I came there, she told me, I had also brought the bright, clear, Love of the Lord with me, and that had really stood out to her as something so lacking there before I came, and so very needed. I was humbled and touched, by that.) We both were grateful people. We also both had a sense of humor, including about our current circumstances. We often joked with one another as we got ready for bed, which seemed to lift the spirits of many of the other women in 'the mat room', also, as they watched us cutting up together like that on many nights. From the way that it looked on this night in 'the mat room', I had just thought how it reminded me of something from back in my childhood. As I turned to her, I said, "This scene reminds me of when I was at summer camp, growing up". She tossed a pillow over at me, which I tossed back at her with a big smile, and in her feigned fussy tone she pretended to scold me while laughing the whole time. She said to me, "Well, THIS ain't no SUMMER CAMP! WE is HOMELESS!" True.

I have found that it is fun, fulfilling, and exciting to watch God at work, in each of our lives, especially when we let Him work in us and through us, and most especially, when the situation looks bad from a human perspective. He doesn't promise us it's always going to be easy. He does make it interesting! God always has a Plan! Each of us staying at the homeless shelter eventually left there, to go on with our lives, but I made some friends and some memories that I will always cherish. I still smile at those precious memories I have of my summer living in a homeless shelter. God is good!

Trying To Describe What 'The Dark Night Of The Soul' Was, And Wasn't, For Me. . . .

In 2007 I experienced 'The Dark Night Of The Soul'. I didn't know what it was, or that it even had a name and could be described and even defined to some extent, at the time. Only in researching this interface, between God and myself, at the public library and discovering that there were actually quite a few books on the subject which I could check out, take home, and read, did I even know that others had in fact gone through precisely this same mystery. At the time, it helped me a great deal to know that I wasn't, in fact, crazy, and that I also wasn't alone in this happening to me.

Ever since I was a very small child, around age 2, I have had occasional visions, and also times of God's Spirit moving on my human nature to give me a holy heart. When I was growing up, I had no idea what these happenings were or that they were not the norm, apparently, for many if not most other people. To me, it was just the way it was, not a special spiritual experience set apart from all other aspects of everyday life. By the time I was a teen, I began to try to tell others about this, such as my counselor at Christian summer camp, who explained away what I know I saw as simply a visual distortion caused by a light being on at night outside our cabin. I also tried to talk to the pastor of the Presbyterian church I attended with my family, about my increasing awareness of the Holy Spirit of God and His movement in my life, but he seemed to have no idea at all what I was speaking of and basically dismissed both that and me, saying he thought I was just overwrought, as I wept uncontrollably from this strong spiritual power that was so affecting me. At one point in my life, long after I knew with absolute certainty that this is in fact a 'God' thing, and that I am definitely not insane, I answered someone honestly (who was assigned to assist me in finding housing when I became homeless) as she probed me with extremely in-depth questions, about all aspects of my life, during her interview. As a result of that, she then had me locked up briefly in a VA mental ward, by stating in writing about me that "She thinks she sees Jesus, and that He tapped her on the back!" (This was related to a very specific incident I had told her about, that had demonstrated for me in a profound way what Grace was, in regard to her question about 'whether I had ever killed someone'.) >sigh!< It has helped me to know the Word of God very well by now, and to read in it that Jesus warned His followers that we would go through some of the same mistreatment that He did, and that it was said of Him, as well, when He walked the Earth, that He was either crazy or possessed by a demon! As disconcerting as that was to be locked away involuntarily over my honest testimony, it did not surprise me, in this world. The food was good; I kept my sense of humor through the ordeal; made some new friends among the patients and staff; and soon enough I was released--- and with no medications prescribed for my 'condition' at all, I might add--- as the staff realized that this is genuinely who I am and there was no clinical evidence that I had lost my mind.

It is what it is. . . .

Despite my being fairly used to these spiritual encounters with God, throughout my lifetime, 'The Dark Night Of The Soul' was extremely difficult and dismaying to deal with; in a league all its own! I was struggling, at the time that it happened to me, with finally and fully coming to terms with the undeniable fact that my family of origin would never be affirming or affectionate toward me, causing a fairly dejected mood to linger in me following my return to Nebraska. I had gone to great trouble and expense, yet again, in my making--- what I knew was, for me--- one final move back to North Carolina in a last ditch hope that, in realizing the years were fleeting, these people might finally have woken up to the truth that it really is now or never, to try at least, to make things right between us all. However, nothing was any different during that move back there, for me, than it had always been. So, 'The Dark Night Of The Soul' was not a result of that, for me (since I was used to that by then), as much as it was a remedy! Through this awe-inspiring, totally transformative spiritual experience, I became united with God in an undeniable, unbreakable, unapologetic bond. Nothing prior had done this as completely, in me.

By way of comparison, it was in no way like what I had gone through following my being raped by a stranger at age 21. While I had felt like I was in a very dark space at that time also (but more as if I were in a tunnel with no light at the end of it), there was no redemption for me in, from, or due to that. It brought me to a bad place, and left me there, shut down and shut off sexually. [I was finally completely set free from all that, amazingly (since many if not most women who have been raped never recover from it to be able to be their fully sexual selves again), by the man who would become my second husband. But that is another story for another time.] None of the events along the timeline of my natural life, especially those which had punctuated it with their negative, frightening, or hurtful impacts, had ever caused anything like 'The Dark Night Of The Soul', despite the distress each of them had left me to deal with.

This God-ordained phenomenon that I was put through was not directly linked to any depressive emotions, in particular, even though some were present in my life at the time it occurred. It  was more a rite of passage, through primarily visionary means, into a much deeper relationship with God; probably for true seekers, as I am, but I cannot say that even that fact initiated this action toward me on God's part. The cause seemed to be God's seeking intimate oneness with my created soul. 'The Dark Night Of The Soul' was a process culminating with my being brought into and through a specific vision, which worked on me like a boot camp does on recruits. Briefly, intensely, with a specific goal, it conformed my former identity (which had previously retained egoistic views, furthering my 'apartness' from Him) into a strikingly revised one. The OIC (the One In Charge; God, in this case) was bringing me into line with His Will using a very focused methodology on me. Clearly He knew what He wanted from me, with me, and how to achieve that. Come to think of it, this pursuit also rather reminds me of how a Horse Whisperer tames a resistant animal by inducing it into wanting to comply. God knew what it would take with me specifically, to achieve complete unity between us.

The vision came upon me when and as God Willed. More than once it appeared and enveloped me. In its coming at all, and returning again and again, it seemed to be providing me with opportunities to reply, in some way, to several very specific but unspoken questions. With this apparent agenda, it was facilitating my making these desired responses through both its inspiration and impetus. I was being required, albeit by exercising my free will, to decide--- to settle, once and for all!--- certain things, in order to align myself with God's Will for our relationship. This vision always took place at times that I was fully awake. I was initially so distracted by the actual experience of both its unwavering persistence and its vivid realism that my realizing there was actually a point and a purpose to it took awhile. In trying to describe it to you here, I can more easily find analogies than words which can actually convey the scope of this spiritual experience of mine. (There are however many writings, in books and online, by others who have lived through 'The Dark Night Of The Soul', with their own ways of trying to describe that. I can only attempt here to convey what it was like for me.) Some immersive video games, and very probably Virtual Reality headsets (which I have never used), might offer a close comparison in this day and age. They, also, have the ability to cause sensations and emotions to be felt in the body, soul, and spirit, when the person is drawn into their scenarios that, while those are not actually of this natural world, either, can look and feel very real to the one interacting with it at the time. The vision given me by God wasn't a game, though, and it caused real, life-altering changes in me that have remained undiminished through everything in my life since then, also imprinting each moment with a much deeper meaning, related to the intimacy I have with God, as a result of it. The filter through which I view all things to do with life traces directly back to my having experienced 'The Dark Night Of The Soul'.

This vision I had, produced by God, was of the total darkness of nothingness, which enveloped me completely. It was as if God had not yet spoken any of His creative words in Genesis to "Let there be" anything visible; yet I was there, the one and only thing in that enormous, pitch black expanse! At first I felt completely alone, very small, and frightened, while I hovered there as if floating in the midst of it, in a prone position. When I slowly began to adjust, somewhat, to such an overwhelming experience, I became aware that I was actually being held there as I was, in this vast space, by some unseen form of suspension. I was facing downward, prostrate, seeing nothing but nothingness, all around me, no matter where I looked. It was total isolation; unnerving for a human, as we are social creatures by nature. Complete quiet. No light, No sound. NOTHING. But me. Or so I thought, at first.

I realized, by revelation, as I could not actually see my back, that there was one very thin thread--- as fragile as a strand of spider's web!--- as the only thing that was actually holding me in the midst of this scene, thereby also being the only thing keeping me from falling into this nothingness of no end. I felt a bit panicked by this, and squirmed slightly in my distress (as I REALLY don't like HEIGHTS, or the queasy sensation of hanging and hovering suspended over a dark abyss). I tried to keep still, then, being also afraid of my possibly snapping the line which I believed, initially, was my only link to survival of any kind within this powerfully real vision. That slender string, suspending me, was rather like an umbilical chord connecting the fetus within a womb to the one that is providing for its very survival. Then, I had a gradual awareness that the single strand, seemingly holding me there, was not actually what was truly holding me at all--- or keeping me from falling into this horrifying depth of darkness.

There is always whatever circumstance we may find ourselves in, and there is always the one, overriding factor, as well, which is ". . . but GOD!". It was God holding me! I was not alone. I was not without hope. With Him there with me, I wasn't even without Light, even though my perception had been that I was totally immersed in darkness. That single, slim strand I had originally credited as my saver actually could never have held me, for even an instant, in the natural. It was only able to hold me there in the vision because God was the empowerment behind its seeming ability to do that! I wasn't actually being held by a thread at all. I was being held fast and firmly--- and forever--- by God. I wriggled again, but this time with energized, excited trust that I wouldn't--- and couldn't--- fall, because God Himself was with me there, sustaining me. Through the vision, I experienced this truth in a uniquely profound way: When nothing and no one else is there, for me, God is! I became internally, and eternally, imprinted with spiritual truths such as that, which I could recite, before this, but not fully believe at my core, until this happened. He would never leave me or forsake me! I felt complete confidence then; not in that string, or in myself, at all, but in Him. Totally! I had finally fully realized that He is there for me, sustaining me, and meeting my need--- whatever that may be, at any given time, because He loves me. He cared for me, then; He has kept me in His care until now; and He will care for me through Eternity! Out of a negative situation I became positive of this fact!

I began to relax, completely, like that feeling after a long-held breath is breathed out, while I was still being held--- by God!--- within this vision, for a time. Although nothing looked any different, about it, nor had outwardly changed in my life, now I had a pervasive knowing of my omnipresent God. I had an absolute assurance within me that even if He were to choose to hold me there, for eternity, in that vision, I would still be alright! I would not ever fall, I would not ever be alone, and I would not ever be separated from His Love for me. It was so freeing and comforting and joyful that I just simply rested there, then, reveling in these realizations that had traveled a long way to finally get there, for me, from my doctrinal head to my doubting heart which had been miraculously and permanently transformed then into one of absolute faith in Him by my going through 'The Dark Night Of The Soul'. I have continued resting completely in Him, and in His thrilling love for me, from then until now, just as peacefully as a trusting infant falls asleep while being held in its parent's arms, no matter what may be going on around it. I realized that anyone and anything else could come and go, and may do that, but that life without Him is no life at all, regardless of the course it takes. So, with Him with me, I didn't feel alone, abandoned, or alarmed by any thing that was going on in my life then, or since then.

It was God solely sustaining me during 'The Dark Night Of The Soul', in that spiritual abyss, that dark void, which He took me into and through to demonstrate who He is for me, in His wisdom, and by His timing, all those years ago. That process was both initially terrifying and ultimately comforting. It was extremely unsettling at the outset; but completely reassuring by its conclusion. That experience went a very long way toward my permanently proclaiming that I would not, could not, come uncoupled from Him again, not even to run from His Will for me, no matter how difficult it might get or how bad things might appear to be in my life at times. I was able, due to 'The Dark Night Of The Soul', to begin trusting completely that God is with me, in and through all things, and that none of what happens to me is a surprise or shock to Him that He isn't prepared to deal with, on my behalf. In addition to that, although nothing else is really needed, I 'fell in love' with God! After I had been the recipient of several of the punier versions of human love in my life, in comparison to how deep, true, pervasive, and unwavering God's love is for me, I guess you could say I 'fell in love with Love', because that is Who God is.

He took me to a place, through 'The Dark Night Of The Soul', to bring me to a place, of complete unity and intimacy with Him. While I never would have or could have chosen that route for myself, I am eternally grateful that God did that to me, and for me. While living my life now in and with Him, every moment of every day, I still have human problems and issues like anyone else on this planet. I also have a deep and lasting joy ever since I was Led through 'The Dark Night Of The Soul'! No matter what does or doesn't happen to me in this life, I have this precious personal relationship with God now that this world didn't give and this world can't take away! As a result I live much more gratefully. Every morning the first thing I do is stand and praise God for being who He is, and then for all He does, because HE IS MY GREATEST BLESSING! The last thing I do before bed each night is that same thing. No matter what the day brought my way, I was never alone in it. God is my life, my everything, and my "all in all" (1 Corinthians 15:28).

A Me-Changing Moment In Time

We usually speak of 'life-changing' moments in Time. Those are things that happen that first change our lives in some way and, as a result of that, change us; and there are also things which happen, along the way, that first change us and, as a result of that, change our lives. It's kind of like the age-old question of 'Which came first, the chicken or the egg?'. There are results either way. This is about one of those moments that was completely unexpected and profoundly transformative in my life. One which was literally 'along the way' for me! To this very day, I remain a completely different person because of this singular event, in how I think and act, in several ways. This me-changing moment in Time seriously altered my outlook on life, greatly enlarged my world view, completely upended my priorities, and more. One moment, of one day, of my life, did all this to me. For me! These kinds of moments are great gifts to us when they happen. We become better versions of ourselves from them, if we're willing to open our hearts and minds when these opportunities present themselves to us. They will usually require us to leave our comfort zone. That is exactly what happened here.

Almost twenty-two years ago now, a record-breaking October snowstorm hit Omaha, Nebraska, where I live, killing some people, causing large power outages, and costing more than 50 million dollars to clean up after. It was so early in the season for such weather that there was a massive loss of tree limbs, as well as some entire trees, because that deep, heavy snow piled up on top of still-fully-leaved limbs. Almost two-thirds of all the tree canopy in this area was damaged by this one storm! Some parts of the area got as much as a couple of feet of snow. Omaha found itself buried in this snowfall that broke the previous record for that date from back in 1898; in fact doubling that record! This city literally looked more like a war zone than a snowscape, for quite awhile.

During the aftermath, going outside at all was miserable, and getting around in any way was very difficult. City workers in small front loaders even had to drive up onto the downtown sidewalks to plow a path through the lingering, deep snow for people to be able to get through on foot at all. Still, the wind blew much of it back underfoot. None of it was melting fast at all, and as a result there really was no sight of the actual ground for weeks afterward.

At the time, I was living in a brand new, fourth floor apartment that was very large and nice, on South 16th Street right in the heart of downtown, which is a main corridor of the city. I had several huge windows all along the front of the apartment, looking out over the street, the sidewalk, and now also over all the devastation which the storm had caused. It didn't look like the result of anything to do with Mother Nature, even on her worst days. It looked like a bomb had gone off, and just skewed the whole scene with its chaos. I hunkered down in my warm apartment, glad that I was not among those who had lost power since I was surrounded more by other high rise buildings than by trees that could fall onto the lines. I stayed in and stayed warm, more than willing to wait it out, quite comfortably.

After several days had passed--- maybe even a week, by then--- I realized that I would finally have to venture out in order to go get more food for myself. >sigh!< That put me into a very grouchy frame of mind, as there was still very little if any real improvement in the conditions outside. I was very cozy and content in my apartment, and I didn't relish having to become cold and uncomfortable at all. Although I only had to walk no farther than the other end of my own block and then just cross the street to get to the corner convenience store, where I would be able to buy any essentials that I needed and all the treats that I wanted to get me by for now in a continued comfy manner, I didn't like it one bit!  As I put on my snow boots, heavy coat, warm gloves, and long scarf for my insulation against the cold, I was still feeling sorry for myself. Then out I went, grumbling inwardly every step of the way. I felt indignantly inconvenienced by the effects of the wintry storm. Now, it was compromising my own comfort level that I wanted to maintain, and affecting me in a much more direct way. I wasn't happy about that. At all.

I walked as hurriedly as I could, once out in the bitter cold, focused only on just getting my food run done and then getting myself back home to my heat and happiness as quickly as possible! The snow was still very deep along both sides of the narrow path which had been plowed through it to even enable my passage there at all. I had never seen it this high, before that time. It hurt to breathe in the cold air, as I watched my step while navigating the challenging course. I barely noticed, peripherally, several dark lumps lying along one side of the deeper snow beside this plowed path, as I rushed to get myself into the warmth of the store and to buy the things I wanted. They sold pizzas, candy, and many other fulfilling taste treats there! Yum! After I bought all that my heart desired from there, I grabbed my bags, and headed home.

Starting on my brief trek back, I paused once I was back across the street from the store where I had just bought my food, at that end of my block, to take a closer look at those little brown bumps atop the snow, just out of mild curiosity, as whatever it was starkly contrasted with the completely white landscape. Then, as I realized what they were, I was horrified! I suddenly found myself standing there frozen in place, but not from the frigid air, staring down at an entire group of little, dead sparrows, lined up stiffly next to one another in a row, directly underneath the exposed front ledge of an old, long-closed-up business. My brain took a moment to make sense of the scene. I had never seen anything like that before! I couldn't comprehend, at first, how and why so many of them were lying there dead like that, and all together. . . . Then, I looked up quickly, and saw just a few live sparrows left on that ledge, looking uncomfortably fluffed in their losing effort to stay warm, with their small bodies leaning on one another.

All at once, my dawning awareness of these other creatures, and their obviously unmet needs, flooded both my mind and my emotions. I flung my grocery bags down onto the snow, and ripping into them I pulled out a box of corn flakes and emptied the entire box out onto the snow, underneath those remaining sparrows up on the ledge. Weakly, gratefully too it seemed to me, a couple fluttered down right away to investigate this food. I wasn't sure if they would actually eat that or not, or if it was the nourishment they needed, so I gave them my loaf of bread that I had just bought too, tearing open the plastic bag and dumping it all out there for them, as fast as I could. I felt just awful for them. I went home then, as these wild birds did not seem to want the distraction of having a human hanging around close by when they were feeding, but I went back out again and again, especially over the remaining days that the snow stayed, in the same cold conditions that I had been inwardly cursing before this happened, to check on them. To help them. To be there for them. I learned what true advocacy was, for me.

When that October snow buried their world, it covered over any natural food source they might normally have accessed prior to this storm, and with that went any hope as well for those small birds to be able to survive it without caring intervention. Not just me, but many people, went into that corner store (which was open 24/7) and came out with food during those days. I did wonder if anybody else had noticed the sparrows, or cared about their dire plight. Regardless, it doesn't seem likely that anyone else had bothered to feed them. There was no sign of any food on the snow anywhere around this area where the starving, freezing birds had been dropping to their deaths one by one during those difficult and dangerous days. As I and others walked right past them, they couldn't speak up for themselves at all, to ask for the assistance they so clearly and desperately needed! They couldn't beg or plead, or say in a comprehensible way, "Please help us! We have no food, so we are starving here and dying slow, painful deaths. Will you please share some food with us?" I now have an antenna of awareness up, as I go about my life, so that if and when there are others, within the possibility of my reach, who do need help, I should be able to notice, and can then try my best to meet that need of theirs if at all possible.

Back home, the situation had changed for me completely. More than that; the situation had changed me completely! I felt deeply ashamed and remorseful that I had been so blindly self-centered and spoiled that I had only considered how the snow storm was impacting me, and been sulking about that. Realizing that 'There but for the Grace of God go I', this one moment in Time had also birthed within me a newfound sense of responsibility to share the blessings that I have been given with others around me--- others that God literally puts in my path, along the way---  to be a real help and a blessing to them. I saw that I can even make the difference between life and death for other living creatures, if I simply choose to! I became much more aware of those around me, with an awakened heart now open and willing to help. Like it says in the classic Christmas tale about the Grinch, my "small heart grew three sizes that day"!

Ever since then, I feed the wild birds wherever I can, especially during the winter months. (This year, we've had a lot of way-below-normal temperatures, including some record lows, and a significant number of snows covering the ground that have not melted for long periods due to the extreme cold.) Every time I feed them, somewhere in the back of my mind, and behind my actions, is the me-changing memory that I have of those sparrows, all those years ago, suffering from that severe snowstorm. That group of sparrows changed my life in a lasting way, and for the better. While they couldn't communicate with me verbally, they still truly taught me that, in this world, there are no 'others'. There is only all of us, together, sharing the resources of this planet we all live on; hopefully, as is needed, with each other.

A few years ago, when I was living at my most destitute, so far, the years of my greatest--- financial--- prosperity long behind me, I went to food pantries and for a time had Food Stamps (SNAP), to be able to eat. I was so grateful for that assistance during a very difficult time in my life! I had to stretch those limited resources fairly far, with the help of coupons, sales, and such. I did manage to usually have flour, which is cheap, and kept some yeast on hand. So, when I had no other way to provide anything for the birds around me, to help feed them, especially during the cold weather months when their food sources are scarce, I would make them a homemade loaf of bread in my bread machine, and then break it up into bird-sized bites. I never let them do without. I just couldn't. Even at my poorest, I still had many more blessings than they had! I always found a way to help them, some at least, in order to give them the food they needed that they weren't always able to get due to the bad weather events and such. 

I was just never able to think only of myself and my needs, or even to think of myself first, before others, ever again, after my God-sent, tiny teachers in sparrow form taught me that I do not exist on Earth for myself alone, but even more so for what I can do for those around me that, for whatever reason, they cannot do for themselves in some way, sometimes. I am not now, nor can ever be again, the person that I was before that me-changing moment in Time.

Two Memories I Have From My Marriages

First of all, I want to say that I was divorced for the final time 3 decades ago, now, following my scariest and most shattering attempt to love and be loved. I have chosen to remain single ever since, quite happily so, as I live within a very fulfilling relationship with the Lord! ["For your Maker is your husband— the LORD Almighty is his name— the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer; he is called the God of all the earth. The LORD will call you back as if you were a wife deserted and distressed in spirit— a wife who married young, only to be rejected, says your God." Isaiah 54:5 and 6] So these two memories from my marriages are not fresh ones; neither are the emotional wounds left in my heart from these men, or the scar remaining on my body from my last husband. But, today, for some reason, I found myself thinking back over these things, and I thought I would share them here with you then, because there are just so many of us women that have made ourselves extremely vulnerable in so many ways to the guys that have come through our lives claiming to love us, and the price we may have paid for those often-brief-but-intense encounters can be very high for us. I've seen that every human being wants to be truly known and loved for who they are--- unconditionally! BUT, while every human wants that, no human being (in my experience) is able to give that, and we only have one another for this, or God! Unless we get a pet. Pets do love unconditionally! But, that's another story for another time.

First, a funny story, plucked from its place within a tragic background: I once married a 'boy' not a man, because by then I'd figured out that I was an excellent nurturer of others (and apparently a poor one for myself, back then), but I had also come to feel that I had better STOP thinking I was going to EVER be loved for me because, well, it had NEVER happened and I was in my 30s at that point. [However, in case you think that was a premature assessment of my lovability, I am now 63, and it was always like that, for me, the whole way through my life to this point, humanly speaking. But, after my last divorce, 3 decades ago, I did finally 'wake up', and stopped pushing God away while crying out to Him that I wanted to BE LOVED! I realized that the ONLY One Who IS LOVE, Who can never be anything else, and Who has always loved me unconditionally--- while knowing me even better than I know myself, and will never leave me or forsake me, never lie to me, never abuse me, is GOD! So, I have been very happy with our relationship. But, that, too, is another story for another time.] So, this 'boy' I married had struck up a relationship with me, as it turns out, because he had so mismanaged his own life that he was being evicted from his apartment for not paying rent, and he had several other delinquent bills. He had actually been chasing a co-worker of mine for a relationship until he realized that I was willing to sacrifice myself to mother him, which was what he really needed from someone at the time. So he put her 'on hold', at least for then. I knew none of this at the time . . . .

I only knew two, other, things about this situation, but which could have prevented this from happening to me at all had I been a better advocate for myself: Number one, that God did specifically warn me not to marry this guy--- in what I've heard Catholics call 'my heart of hearts'. God knows everything about everyone, so He is the One to be trusted--- and obeyed. There are always consequences for our not doing this! Secondly, sadly, by this point in my life I had come to feel that the quality of relationships that men in general offered, based on my observations both of others' relationships with men, throughout my life, and my own experiences with men, indicated to me that waiting for anything better than this to come along was pointless; that the best I could ever hope for, with a man, would be to simply make the best of a bad situation. So, I settled for this. Chose it.

As I was saying earlier, I knew none of my new husband's serious problems, but in hindsight (of course) I realized that he had deliberately gone to great lengths to hide all those things, which then became a 'sucker punch' to me, as my only wedding gift from him, since he had to know these things would all come out, and sooner rather than later. Also, once we were married, that contractual relationship made me equally legally liable then, as his wife, for ALL these debts of his! I only found out about them when he moved into my apartment with me, once we were married, and his forwarded mail started coming there with all the Late Notices and threatening Legal letters. I was pretty good with money, out of debt myself, and a responsible person with excellent credit back then, so I got his financial mess all straightened out. Turns out he was in trouble at work, as an Air Force sergeant, for this crap, too. His First Sergeant thanked me for helping him, and told me in no uncertain terms that this was in fact not the first time that my husband had gotten himself into trouble in this very same way, and that had I not intervened on his behalf, and fixed this for him, he would have been discharged at this point and would have lost his military career! [The funny part of this is coming; just not quite yet. I have learned however, over the years, to laugh at the sheer appalling ridiculousness of how badly life can go at times, with or without our own mistakes or lapses of judgement or disobedience to God! We live on a Fallen planet that is populated by sinful humans.[The SNL show writers utilize this underlying theme for their humorous sketches on a regular basis.]

I found out years ago I love to give love but have long since quit expecting to get any, so it didn't particularly throw me that despite all I did to help him, my ungrateful husband only resented me for it and rewarded my efforts on his behalf by rocking my world (in a bad way) with his instability. He moved in and out, in and out, in and out, never giving me any reason for either direction he took with all that. He threatened me with a knife once, while I was on the phone with an Air Force chaplain making us an appointment for some help with all this, so I put him on the phone and he told the chaplain that he had a knife at that very moment, unapologetically!--- as if that is normal or in any way alright behavior. To top all this--- because there's more, as if all this wasn't more than enough on its own for me to cope with---  he wasn't interested in having sex with me! That aspect wasn't like any man I'd ever encountered before or since; usually it is totally opposite of that, with men. This is all truth even if you don't believe me! So, we almost never had sex and, the few times we did, it was always at my initiation. It was also so disappointing that I didn't even really want it with him, either. The whole experience literally could have played itself out with 'The Minute Waltz' as background music every one of those times. What he needed me to be was his mother. The fact remained that I was his wife. He stayed up for hours playing Video Games so he could "find the magic key" or "break through to the Next Level" in that IMAGINARY world. On Christmas, I gave him nice gifts that pleased him most, so of course that had to mean some new Video Games as well. I admit the only time I was shocked and realized how v-e-r-y little I had settled for, with him, was when Christmas Day came and he had not gotten me anything--- not even a Christmas Card. I spent that day, and night, watching the back of his head as he sat transfixed with his new Video Games and "getting to the next level". (He also collected comic books.)  On my birthday, I again got nothing from him, but I went to visit him--- in the dorm on base that he lived in during his many 'come and go' move in/move outs. Anyway, despite all these depressing details, there was a really funny story that happened, once, even in the midst of all that I just described to you, and here it is. (I often say that I've either gotta laugh or cry, at Life!)

In some kind of desperate, last attempt to encourage this 'boy' (though legally a man in age, he was emotionally just a child) to grow into his manhood (as we women are often, but not always, instrumental in accomplishing, with a cooperative male), I decided to try harder to interest him in SEX. LOL I never thought I would ever be saying that where any guy is concerned, but, it was what it was in all its patheticness. He was working second shift for awhile and coming home late evening, then. So, I put on a sheer negligee, sexy music and lighting--- the whole thing. And, important to the story, he had moved into my Efficiency apartment with me once we were married. It was a fairly large yet only one room place that had been great for me as a young, single gal. Once you entered the front door of the apartment, the living room/bedroom area was all right there as one big open space, that also included the kitchen, which was set apart only by its counter. So, (this is important to the funny part of this story) the only door in the entire apartment (not counting the closet door) was to the bathroom. ONE door. To the BATHROOM.

Okay, so he comes home. I hear his key in the front door of the apartment. I meet him at the door, wearing nothing but this flimsy piece of sheer clothing. Mustering all the sexiness I had, I tried to inspire him to leave his boyhood behind--- and his slaying dragons in Video Games--- to join with me in the real, adult world of grown up joys and conquest! Taking his hand, and with an intense, passionate look in my eyes, I led him directly over to the bed. I lay back across it and pulled him more or less on top of me, and looking deeply into his eyes, I had the bright idea (when all else fails!) to speak in French to him--- because it is known as the language of love! So, I say to him "I adore you!" in French.

"Je t’ adore!"

Well, he immediately got up (but not the way I had intended, by that) off the bed, walked over to the bathroom, and SHUT THE DOOR!

I started laughing SO HARD (at least SOMETHING was HARD, that night) that I rolled off the bed, in my negligee, onto the floor and kept laughing, just doubled over, totally unable to stop! Well, he apparently was completely clueless as to the cause of this hilarity, and he just stood there, looking down at me on the floor, with me just 'busting a gut' laughing, and he was both truly bewildered and ticked off at me by my doing that. So, he kept saying to me, "What are you LAUGHING about? You told me to SHUT THE DOOR and I did!" Of course, that caused me to only laugh longer still, which unfortunately kept making him madder and madder at me. So, needless to say, no sex happened that night, then, either. All I can say here, to sum it up, is "C'est la vie!".

The second story about my (final) marriage is not at all funny. This man was the son of Satan if ever there was one. He was a Master of Domestic ABUSE. He knew how to torment me and tear me down in ways that showed truly hellish skill, and, ultimately, he was the one who totally shattered me body, soul, and spirit, to the point that my joy was gone and I didn't know then if it would ever be back. It took me five years to be able to smile again about life! So, this Post is about the time the type of abuse he perpetrated on me totally confused me, and how both then and for years after, I JUST COULDN'T FIGURE IT OUT--- what he was doing! What he did!--- until one day, I FINALLY DID KNOW. . . .

He never needed any 'reason' or provocation of any kind to become abusive toward me. He constantly kept me off balance emotionally; uneasy, unsure, unsafe . . . . My husband.

This particular day, there had been no strife, no turmoil, no arguing. There often wasn't, but he still would become enraged toward me. I went downstairs in the split-level home that I had moved into, of his, when we were married, to converse with him when he suddenly got snarky, and pulling me down onto the basement floor, he sat behind me with his legs straddling me and he had my arms pinned behind me in his tight grip, so I could not stand up or leave the room. By now I was sadly very used to him doing all kinds of abusive actions toward me, but what came next in this situation left me totally baffled by it both then and for years afterward. He placed his mouth right up against my ear, and, while holding me like that in this very uncomfortable position physically (for about a half hour), he kept saying OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER (you see the situation, now) the most precious words any human can ever say to another human: "I Love you!". Only, he didn't say it sweetly, or in a tone that indicated he was at all trying to convince me of even a shred of truth in his saying that to me. He said it in a tight grimace. Every time. OVER AND OVER. Sarcastically. Evilly. In nothing like a loving tone at all! None of the abuses he did toward me--- my body, soul, and spirit--- made any sense to me, because we actually could have had a really great marriage together, if he had not been driven from the day of our "I Do"s to begin tearing down all hope of any good life that we could have built together relationally. But this thing in the basement was unlike any thing he'd ever done, before or after that time; and he was a very creative abuser in the variety of ways he would mistreat me! I just could not reconcile his words, to me, of "I LOVE you!" OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER through that half hour he took me hostage in our home, with the behaviors he was acting out that clearly didn't reflect LOVE! I just never understood WHAT that WAS, or WHY he DID that, until one day, years later. . . .

As I said previously, I was so shattered by this man that I didn't feel close to whole as a human being for 5 years after the marriage ended! I didn't smile until 5 years had passed. I had to do so much work on myself to try to repair what I could of the deep damage he had inflicted on my soul. I have always said, since marrying him and experiencing this, that it is always easy for me to tell if someone has been abused, themselves, by how they react to my being abused when I tell them: If they say to me, "You mean, he HIT you?", then they have never been abused. Abuse victims will tell you, as I LIVED THROUGH and can attest to by my own life experiences as an abuse victim, that, the casts will eventually come off; the stitches will come out ; it is THE WORDS the abuser says to you that go deep down in your spirit and there's really not a way to ever get rid of all THE HURTFUL, HARMFUL EFFECTS of those words spoken to you. The WORDS are the WORST. Even the bruises heal, outwardly; but not those left on your soul. Anyway . . .

Many years later, when I finally felt whole enough to try dating again, a man whom I was seeing and I were out eating in a restaurant when he took my hand and said to me what every human heart normally hopes to hear. "I Love you!" I even shocked myself when I immediately automatically, spontaneously, pulled my hand away, moving myself apart from him. I was absolutely TERRIFIED! I was not happy to hear that! I felt both my mind and heart racing from pure panic in a way that I never had before! This caring man sat there looking so confused by my reaction to his sweet sounding words, while my inner thoughts were saying "So, are YOU going to HURT me? Do YOU intend to ABUSE me? Am I NOT SAFE with you?" His words had struck FEAR into my heart! Not the hoped for reaction, this man thought he would receive, was going on with me. I was now emotionally withdrawing myself from him, suddenly, and acting in opposition to his words to me; rendered totally unable to embrace them or him. I simply could not receive them! I could not welcome them or reciprocate them, at all.

This kind of pure fear, behind those thoughts I was having then, has nothing to do with rationality; it is a visceral reaction straight from the most basic 'Fight or Flight' survival instincts in human nature. It is an emotional reaction to a perceived threat. My perception of the word "love" had clearly been completely corrupted by my ex-husband. And, that's when I FINALLY KNEW. I knew why my ex-husband had done what he did to me in the basement of our home when we were married. I finally knew what he had done! I realized he was so talented at abusing me that, even as he ripped apart our relationship, he also had planned ahead, into my future without him--- from his knowing that, due to his thorough destructiveness, that time would finally have to come--- in order to taint me toward the most cherished words that people ever say to one another! He made those words SCARY, TOXIC, to me. Unembraceable, to me. Needless to say, my ex-husband succeeded in his plot. I wasn't able to trust in another man saying those words to me. Trust that I wouldn't be abused by that man, too---- something which I knew I could not survive again. Perhaps physically, if I weren't killed, but not mentally or emotionally. I had barely survived it, before. [More later, on that.]

It was just beyond draining and exhausting to go through abuse, especially at the hands of a person that had once vowed before God to love me. The same person that, during the abuse, now vowed to kill me. In fact, this ex-husband had first told me he loved me when we were eating out, and he had taken my hand as he said those words to me, but he had gone farther than that. He told me that he wanted to be the one that even made up for the difficult and painful things I'd already endured in my marriages prior to him, which I had told him about in full and honest disclosure once we became involved with one another. I'd even told him I didn't think I was ready to be dating anyone again, when he had initially asked me out, but he was extremely persistent, asking me out again and again, and went out of his way to reassure me that I couldn't be in better hands than to be with him. These same hands became fists during our marriage, and I would cringe in a ball on the floor with my arms covering my head as best I could during his ever-escalating episodes. I remember the stinging of his words one day, too, when he screamed at me, "I can do whatever the hell I want to do to you, bitch, because you don't ever want to go through another divorce, so you'll put up with it!" Oh, and by the way, the Lord had also told me not to marry this man, but in disobedience to the One that is Love and truly does have my best interests at heart, I argued that "Love would conquer all!", but it--- rather, whatever this was with him--- conquered me. Even more than that; it very nearly killed me.

The Master Abuser had managed to leave me with this legacy for me to react negatively, from a place deep down inside my soul (where he had purposefully buried this TIME BOMB all those years before), toward anyone in my future who might ever say to me "I love you!". I had never even realized he had done that--- and so well!--- until someone all those years later finally hit the TRIPWIRE, by telling me that they loved me! My unexpected reaction had startled me, as well, when that happened, not just the man saying those words to me that evening at dinner. Dormant, and malignant, within me, it was not until I heard those special words spoken to me that I had immediately reacted emotionally with a feeling of deep dread and those awful, automatic thoughts of "You just said you love me; so, what are you going to do to me? How are you going to hurt me? Will you threaten to KILL ME, TOO? Will you be the one that will finally kill me?" As a woman, it is disgusting to me what these abusive men put us through, once they get themselves into our private lives after managing to hide their abusiveness from us; until they 'have us'. (So, they can control this!) All this because of our having a romantic relationship with them! They do know, very clearly, that we had just wanted to love and to be loved by someone, and to build a 'Happily Ever After' with them, because they had seemed to offer us that before their evil 'bait and switch' when they then withheld love, giving us only grief instead.

Those are my two, true stories from my marriages that I decided to share now with you.