Showing posts with label divorce. Show all posts
Showing posts with label divorce. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 20, 2022

Memorabilia, From Assorted Aspects Of My Life, And My Favorite Story Of Faith

I have a variety of things to share in this post. More memorabilia from my own life but also a story written by someone else, that is my favorite story of 'the faith of a child'. The Bible says, having, pure, simple, trusting, child-like, faith in God is very important: "He (Jesus) called a little child to him and placed the child among them and He said: 'Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.Therefore whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.'" [Matthew 18:2-4 NIV] As it is the holiday season, children, are frequently the focal point, for the activities that are going on as part of the celebration. Christian children are in Nativity plays, and decorating Christmas trees. Jewish children, are helping to light the candles on the family's menorah and spinning the dreidel. Others are learning the seven principles of Kwanzaa, and lighting their kinara. I wrote a, Christian, devotional, for this blog, the first year of its creation (almost 4 years ago!), and have included the link to it. [https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2019/12/thank-you-its-perfect-gift-for-me.html] The story that I will share with you, this month, "The Faith Of A Child" by Diana Honaker, isn't a holiday story but has the true meaning of one. After all, what is the foundation of the Christmas message? It's John 3:16. "For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life." God, so LOVED, the world, that He GAVE. This story that I love, and want to share with you here, was published in DECISION magazine [Billy Graham Evangelistic Association], in March 1999.I have no personal affiliation with the ministry but the story warms my heart every time I read it. It is a real reminder of the trusting faith that moves the Lord. I will end this post with that sweet story, but first, I will share some, other, sweet, and not so sweet, things, about my own life story. I have not lived a charmed life.

While sorting through my memorabilia I came across an old photograph of me that was probably taken when I was around 7, or 8, years old, on Christmas morning. I am holding a doll that I just got from Santa Claus. Because I am looking back over my entire life, in hindsight, in this blog, including from the perspective of my being 66 years old now, I am struck by these moments from my past that the old photos portray. These memories, all helped shape the person that I am, for better, and for worse. The photo of me (below) hugging my baby doll displays my innocence. But, right around this time, there was a season of, extreme, marital stress between my parents, which was triggered by my father's lingering anger, hurt, and resentment from my mother's earlier infidelity, and her considering leaving him and taking the children with her then (3 of the 4 being his) that led not only to physical domestic abuse but truly terrifying incidents between them that I heard and sometimes saw while all 3 of my siblings seemed to, obliviously, sleep through those. Those things shattered my sense of safety, frightened me, to depths that, I could not have even articulated at that tender age, even if I had dared to (which I did not; stuffing it all deep down inside me, instead), and scarred me for life, leaving a legacy of anxiety and OCD, and other things that I still have to grapple with, every day of my life, to this day. When my mother got sick and then died, my sister got back in touch with me, during that time, primarily because as Executor for the Will she needed me, to sign off on things, to settle our mom's estate, but, I had been No Contact, with the family, for many years. She told me, then, that, prior to our father finally divorcing our mother late in life, she had also witnessed fights between the two of them that escalated into physical assaults, on one another, and she had to step in, to break it up. When I escaped the family dysfunction, and went No Contact with them, to try to save what was left of my mental health, I left all those, jarring, scarring, things, behind me, until I ended up being a domestic abuse victim myself, when I married.




I always found it surprising, that my father ever even cared enough to try to keep us with him, had their marriage broken up, decades, before, it finally did, because this man was not affectionate, or affirming, and was rarely emotionally expressive toward his children. At least the years that I was under his roof; and, beyond. Add to that, his towering stature, at 6'2" or so, and he was a formidable father to have to, physically, look up to, when I was a small child. He 'disciplined' us by spanking us, with flyswatters, thorny rosebush branches, or his huge hands, leaving marks, on our tender-skinned bodies, that lasted for days. The photo of him (below) is an accurate depiction of his usual demeanor, and ongoing mood, 99% of the time. In fact, he actually looks 'warmer' and more relaxed in this picture, than he normally did! Most often his expression was something between a sulk and a hostile glare if he even seemed to take notice of our presence in the room with him as he parked himself on the couch, in the den, almost all of the time that he was home, and sat staring at the TV, from the time he got home, until the time he went to bed, never wanting to converse with us, or get to know us as we grew up and into the people we became, with individual identities, of our own, apart, from, being his offspring.

 


That is why, the, one, letter, that he ever wrote to me, in my life, so outraged and offended me. Below, is the letter in its entirety, verbatim. I will explain, afterward, why, it made me so angry, at him, since the way I was treated, by him, my whole life, had, everything, to do with that. Here is one anecdotal account, of a different situation that came up between my father and I, though, before I share the letter with you, that will also shed some light on why it affected me, so negatively: One day my sister brought home her current boyfriend at the time and the young man built a fire in the livingroom fireplace (which is pictured above, with the photos on the mantle) but he forgot to open the damper. Smoke quickly filled the room, and ultimately my mother said that she had to have repainting done due to the smoke damage. As Dad was about to come home, any minute, and he was, always, quick to be critical, and irritable, about things going awry, usually before he ever sought out the facts first, if at all, I went outside to meet him, as he arrived, and told him what had just happened, hoping that, he would not say anything, mean, or angry, then, upon walking in and seeing and smelling all the smoke, to further embarrass the young man visiting. But, when I told him about it, my father just glared at me in a very disapproving way, mad at me for telling him because he seemed to think that I was just going behind others' backs to somehow make myself look good! He was always an impossible man to please it seemed, regardless of whatever efforts I made, to be caring, and helpful. I had thought that, giving him a 'heads up' with the situation would avoid any caustic comments by him, because he was so quick to strike out, physically or verbally, and assess the actual situation after he did so.

Now, just after he left our mother, to divorce her, he, suddenly, sends each one of us children a personal letter from himself when he almost never got personal with us about anything, and it seemed to be his attempt at trying to sound like he was being the big man* in this big mess, which was not at all accurate, whether in his relationship with our mother, or his relationship with each one of us. Adding insult to injury, with his letter to me, that tried to make him sound like the 'decent' one, in this divorce situation, he, also, explained away his absentee-father relationship with me, despite his being in the very same house with me the whole time I grew up under that roof. Despite, what he wanted that letter to me to accomplish, all it did was alienate me even further from him, if that was even possible to do by this point, because it spoke of things that, he NEVER EVEN ONCE, affirmed, about me, with me, BEFORE or SINCE that ONE LETTER TO ME, regarding developing talents and skills I had, that he'd NEVER ACKNOWLEDGED, as I grew up in his household. He had neglected EVERY opportunity, to encourage my gifts and abilities, as I was finding myself, as a child growing up in that home, and literally his only focus had been on his watching TV shows, nonstop, the entire time, I had lived in, and later, visited, that house. He was always very quick to criticize me harshly, but never to say anything about my accomplishments or achievements. When I sang solos in a church play, and other such moments and milestones, he never said ONE thing, to me. Children NEED that acceptance, attention, and affirmation from their parents! I was MIDDLE-AGED-- 45 years old!-- when my father sent me the letter in 2001.

Here is his letter to me (just exactly as he wrote it):

[It was typed up and printed out, but signed "Dad" in ink, with his phone number]



Hello To Each of You

   I am not sure just where or how to begin this letter, but I feel like it's time I at least tried to explain a few things.

   Each of you will receive the same letter except for the last paragraph and that will be for you only.

   I have been told that I was never there for you children and I guess to a large degree that's true, I always had to work longer an harder that those around me just to stay even with them, but most of all I was a firm believer that what I was doing was right, I was so sure that if I could give you the things that I never had, like a nice house to live in, a nice car that could carry you where you wanted to go or parties for your Birthday and all those Christmas presents at Christmas, it wasn't until I saw you children spending so much time with your children that I then realized that I had missed out on some of the most important things of your lives, Those times cannot be relived and even if they could I often wonder if they would be different, I'm not sure if that what I am saying makes any sense to you but I don't know how to say it any other way, Except that I now know that I put too much emphasis on material thing and not enough on those around me.

   I have also been told that I have shut you out of what I am planning or what I have already planed, for that I am truly sorry because I never meant to shut any of you out, it was just that I felt that I was going through something that was going to affect us all and I did not want to try to draw any one into it trying to get them to take sides, I did how ever have to have some one to help me and that one person and only that person was told what my plans were, but I did this only because I needed some one to watch after things while I wasn't there, things like picking up my mail and paying bills at a very small two bed room place that I purchased early this year, I also did not discuss this with any of you because whether you believe me or not I do care for your mother very much and I am not going into any of the reasons why I'm doing what I am doing because it make no different what I say where it true or not that will never change the fact that she is now an always be your mother.

   I say to each of you that my home will always be there an open to and for you, I hope that each of you will be a part of my new life, I know that you will see a different person in some ways.

   Deb I know that we have not been very close but I really want you to know that I have always told people about how much talent you have and how much I enjoyed those nights in the shop when you would come out and we would sit and talk and you would draw pictures for me to use as patterns, I feel like I did not give you enough encouragement or help in developing your true talents, it just made me angry to see all that talent going to waste.

Love

Dad

[He signed it and added his phone number, in handwritten ink, to the typed page. But then a second page followed that first page with some additional paragraphs.]

  I want each of you to know that I to hurt much more than I can ever express in words, but I have many great wonderful memories and they will always be there for me to draw on, to me there are more good fun loving memories than there are bad.

   The yesterdays are gone except for the memories, it is now today and tomorrow will be a new day for each of us, I hope I can use the tomorrow's wiser.

   Remember that time waits for no one, Treasure every moment you have, and you will treasure it even moe when you can share it with someone special.  


There is a cautionary tale, in this man's letter, to his, then, middle-aged children, including that, despite your many regrets, in hindsight, especially, after you were told many times, that you were CHOOSING not to develop the relationships, with your own children, you cannot go back and rewrite history or recast the past in a way that makes you feel better about it, by, now, seeing it as much better than it actually was, or as less hurtful, and harmful, to your offsprings' wellbeing, than it really was. Men, in particular, are all-too-often guilty of failing their kids this way. I'm a senior citizen, now, and I'm still dysfunctional, because of an acute absence of a loving, present, engaged, affirming father in my life. Mine was IN THE HOME!

Because of my not having a good family situation, growing up, for various reasons (not just to do with my father, as has been well covered in my previous blog posts now), I tried live-in nanny employment, a few times, partially because I longed to feel a sense of family in a home environment that would not be dysfunctional, and damaging, to me. I smile as I type this next statement: What I realized, was that, to some extent, every family has their sins, and shortcomings, although, not all of them are severe enough, for the survivors, of such a home life, and upbringing, to need therapy and such, like me and many others have needed, to help us with our woundedness. Even so, some of the situations were far better than my upbringing had been but I found that there are frustrating complications to, living, where you work, and for various reasons those jobs did not last for very long. >sigh!< I, still, long for a sense of what an, accepting, affirming, affectionate, family life would be like, but at this point I cannot imagine my ever having that. I have given up hope. When I moved to Bridgeport, Connecticut, for a live-in nanny job, after I had been a Certified Nursing Assistant in a hospital, a nurse who was a friend of mine wrote me a letter. The only page, I seem to still have, of that letter, is numbered "4", on the front, and ends with her signature at the bottom of what would be page 5, on the back of that. Here is some of what she wrote to me, exactly how she wrote it:


You seem to be healing, (starting to anyway). You left Omaha with a few open wounds. Just give it time, Deb. The [name withheld for privacy reasons] family seems fascinating to me. Lots of $ !! Their condo is gorgeous as are the kids. I felt good about your making plans to see New York. You've got more guts than I would have, even on buses, trains, & cabs. (God forbid I ever take a subway with my claustrophobia! sp?) 

     I enjoyed your story about the [name withheld] relatives & the lox- I was reading the letter at work by my telephone and laughed out loud. You have a delightful way of putting words on paper! Have you ever thought of working for a newspaper? I just eat up your letters.

     About your future- and Omaha- & what tomorrow will bring- I really don't know, Deb. Just take one day at a time & try to make the best of each day. There are reasons for everything that happen to us. (When I see God face to face someday, I've got quite a list of things to discuss with him, as I question why I've been handed some of my "crosses".) I just hope things "fall into place" for you. You've entered into an adventure that has to add something positive into your life- if nothing else, to distract you and help pass the time until you can see your son again. You always sound so pessimistic (sp?) when you write about him. Don't! You will always be his biological mother & there will be a bond between you, even though you are not together. Linnea sounds like a very generous person who would never interfere with your relationship. Circumstances have separated you for now- but it won't be forever!!

     I'm going to end this now- keep me in your prayers & I'll do the same for you- Life is so hard-                                                     

     Love,

     Judi

P.S. Sorry it took me so long to answer! I think of you often- write if you get a chance. Once again, I love your interesting letters!


It was, the height of irony, that, soon after, I transferred the custody, of my baby boy to his father and stepmother to raise, so he would have the best possible life that he could, given the situation, I began working as a live-in nanny in someone else's home, caring for and loving their kids. People really don't realize, how hard my life has been, in some ways, and all that I have had to overcome, while going though some extremely painful emotions. Because I choose to be compassionate and gentle with people, normally, unless, they give me reasons not to be, I think that I come across to others, often, as weak, or a pushover, when I am as strong as steel, in SO MANY WAYS, because of, all, that I have been through, in my life!

The landlord of my apartment building, when I was applying to be a live-in nanny, wrote me a letter of reference. I was very touched, by it. It is transcribed, below. 

 

To Whom It May Concern,

Deborah [Last name] is a tenant of mine, . . . 

I personally have two little girls. (Ages 2 & 4) Deborah has been to our apartment several times to visit and babysit on occasion. My little girls like her visits because she gives them alot of attention, hugging, holding, playing and coloring with them. Children respond well to people who are very open and honest with them. This is how I would describe Deborah, as a very open and honest person. 

Being resident manager, I have had to enter her apartment on different times and have always found Deborah to be a very neat and clean person.

If you are looking for someone to take care of your children, I believe Deborah is well suited for the job.

                                                                           Sincerely,

                                                                           Melinda [Last name withheld]


I am a very serious person, but I also have a strong sense of humor! While I was still working in the nursing field on a medical/surgical patient floor at the hospital  I wrote out some of my, corny, jokes, for Valentine's Day, and sent them down to the ER department via the pneumatic tube system, to the head ER doctor, Steve, who was my good friend, at the time, and knew me well. It shows, my silly sense of humor, that comes out around people that I feel safe to be myself around, and like. When, I try to be myself with people, and show them this side of me, if they seem judgmental, uptight or humorless I don't feel open to getting to know them better. After all, if people can't accept you, for, who you are, then, why bother, to befriend them? You were created to be, uniquely, yourself. That, is who, we have to be, in this world, to be, authentic; to keep it real, to be genuine, to be honest. Here are two photos, of me (below), from my days working in the nursing field. I was in my mid-20s. We were required to wear a white uniform (including shoes), back then, which was between the era when nurses had to also wear a white cap at all times, and now, when people working in nursing wear scrubs and sneakers. Back then, we had to take the patients' temperatures manually, by shaking down the thermometers to get a more accurate read, and hold their wrist, to take their pulse. It was hands on. The old photos, from 40 years or so ago, aren't real clear.  I really enjoyed that career field, which ended for me when all the patient lifting I had to do began to throw my back out, more and more often. That led to dancing. I would not want to be in nursing, anymore, in the times, we live in, now, though. I really respect people who are still willing, to be in that line of work, at this point.





Here are my silly Valentine's Day Single's Ads, hospital style, from the mid-1980s:


LGH Valentine Positions to be filled.

Must make application for your specialty area by Feb. 14th to qualify.

A partial list of openings*:

A heart-throb for Cardiology (No heartbreakers apply, please)

Someone sweet for Dietary

Someone uninhibited for Public Relations

An amiable Escort

A Knockout for Anesthesia

Someone highly skilled as well as efficiently fast for ER

Someone insightful for X-Ray

A clean-cut individual for the Surgery Department, preferably sterile

* Valentine inquiries may be directed to any, available, staff. Happy Valentine's Day!


That is reminiscent of the type of things that 'Hawkeye Pierce', and his sidekicks, would do in the TV show M*A*S*H, which was all about medical personnel being silly at times as a stress reliever, because working in medical settings is stressful. 


When I lived in Wilmington, North Carolina for awhile I worked in Medical Records at an Orthopedic clinic. It was a fast-paced, challenging and stressful job because it was a very large practice with multiple doctors. I took it as a temp job, to see if I wanted to settle long-term in the city. I had a very good church there with great people and it was a nice area but when the temp job ended I decided to move on. That was in 2006. The end of the temp assignment coincided with Christmas. The staff gave me a good-bye card. Here are some of the comments, they wrote in it:

Deborah, . . . We will miss your smile and cheery spirit. - Allison; Deborah, I will miss your smiling face! . . . Lauren; Deborah, It has been nice getting to know you. We will miss seeing you around the office! . . . Stacey; . . . It was fantastic getting to joke around & visit w/you . . . . I know there is a fun & interesting career that can't wait to grab you up! Kick it into high gear. - Jennifer; I will miss you, Deborah. . . . Elaine; . . . P.S. Thanks for the beautiful X-mas card in Remembrance of my father. . . . Deborah, I'll miss your positively friendly presence around here. . . . ~ Amanda; . . . I will sure miss all your compliments. You're so kind. - Kimberly

Those co-workers were from, medical records, the business office, surgery scheduling, the front desk, patient check-in/check-out, chart prep, and one was the telephone operator/appointment scheduler there.

A young woman, who was also working there, as a temp, in another department, gave me a Christmas card, that also deeply touched me. Her name was Tiffany. I kept it all these years, to remind me that, one person, including me, and Tiffany, can really make a positive difference in the lives of others. The card has a picture of a Christmas cherub  on it,  and says,  "At Christmas time,  kind deeds  put the smiles on angels' faces." The print on the inside of the card says, "Hope the spirit of Christmas surrounds you like a warm hug." Then, she wrote, "-I know this is a little late. I wish you  the best  and take care.  The 'take time' card  you gave me was great. Take this and get yourself something special. Happy Holidays! Tiffany"  I made a note on the outside of the envelope, to remind myself what brought the tears to my eyes, upon receiving this, from her, and I kept the card, for always. I wrote: "Tiffany is a temp in Transcription- a struggling single Mom driving a noisy beat up car  with sadness in her eyes  and pain deeply etched  into her (relatively young woman's) face-  yet she  gave me a ride  to the bank  after work  in rain in  12-22 traffic . . . She offered that- I didn't ask. Her face, prior to that, had looked struck with  amazement,  warmth, and  a glimmer  of some  needed kind  of hope when  I'd simply  given her  one of boxed  (Guidepost Christian)  Christmas cards w/her name  on it. Her card to me also had a $20.00 BELK gift card in it - a huge and loving sacrifice as I know she struggles hard financially,  as I do, and perhaps more so."  Looking at that card, from 16 years ago, still, brings tears  to my eyes.


My cockatiel, CeeBee, loved the Hershey's Kiss Christmas bells commercial. It has been on TV all these years. I am so grateful that they still have it, for the Season, because, every time, I see and hear it, I speak to CeeBee's spirit, and say, "There is your pretty Christmas bell commercial, CeeBee! I love you always and forever!" My friend, Erik, brought tears to my eyes, several months ago, when I was telling him what that ad meant to CeeBee, and therefore, to me, and he Messaged me a link to it, on Facebook, so that I could, still, access it, if they ever stop showing it, on TV. My eyes often tear up when it comes on. [https://www.google.com/search?q=video+of+the+HErsheys+Kiss+Christmas+beell+commercial&oq=video+of+the+HErsheys+Kiss+Christmas+beell+commercial&aqs=chrome..69i57j33i10i160j33i299j33i22i29i30.10630j0j7&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:6ac721b7,vid:4HtSLF4vlrk] CeeBee flew Home to Heaven in July of 2011 just a few months short of his 20th birthday. I saved a newspaper that was on my coffee table when that heartbreak happened, because I scribbled what I was feeling on it at the time. Now, it is a yellowed piece of paper, from the passage of time. The following, is what I wrote, about the death of my bird baby:

"(written on here by me just after CeeBee Marie went to heaven . . . .) Having that sudden, jabbing, take-my-breath-away pain in my stomach, almost like somebody's punched me in the gut, actually leaving a lingering stomach ache, causing me to audibly groan softly and wince. that is PAIN. pain of a hugely impactful loss yet a deep, pure, abiding love. That combination we struggle so with, as humans, of losing yet still having something in our lives & hearts of great value & meaning to us. Then, suddenly, an 'ugly cry' overcomes us. This is Grief. If we didn't CARE , it wouldn't HURT."

                                  CeeBee    November 1991 - July 2011




 

CeeBee wearing as much of his popcorn as he ate!


CeeBee, trying to change the TV channel to something more to his liking?






CeeBee 'nesting' inside an empty cardboard box, with his 'Bead Baby' toy under him, and a snack nearby.






Now, for the holiday season, here is the transcript of the story by Diana Honaker:


Without food or money, she learned a lesson about trusting God.

The Faith Of A Child

"Billy prayed, 'Jesus, we need food because Mom doesn't have any money- and we don't like soup. Please give us some graham crackers too' "


The can of tomato soup stood before me on the nearly empty shelf. I reached for it reluctantly because my kids didn't like tomato soup- unless I fixed cheese sandwiches to go with it. "Lord," I prayed, "You have always taken care of us. We are out of nearly everything except this one can of soup. You know I don't get paid for another week- and the child support check is late. Please show me what to do. I need wisdom."
     My children and I had moved to Prescott, Arizona, only two weeks earlier. Now I stood in our kitchen wondering what to do about food. The money that I had been counting on had not arrived. I knew that I could ask for help from our friends who lived in the area, but I sensed the Holy Spirit nudging me to trust God to meet our needs. I whispered a quick prayer for guidance, picked up the can of soup and headed for the living room.
     I sat down on the floor next to a few of our moving boxes.  My one-year-old son, Brandon, climbed onto my lap and took charge of the can. Billy, age six, made a face and said, "Yuck! Are we having that for dinner?" Avoiding his question, I asked my nine-year-old daughter, Tonya, to turn off the TV.
     "Would you guys please come and sit with me for a minute?" I asked. They agreed.
     "Well, it seems that this is what we will have for dinner tonight," I explained. "We are out of food. Because Mommy has just started a new job, she will not be paid until next week, and we don't have money to buy food. Why don't we pray and ask Jesus to help us- what do you think?"
     "Can't you just go to the store and write a check, Mom?" Billy asked.
     "Checks aren't any good unless you have money in the bank," Tonya corrected. Billy glanced with annoyance at his older sister.
     I retrieved the soup can from Brandon and exchanged it for one of his favorite toys. Then I set the can down in front of us and said, "Why don't we all touch the soup can and ask Jesus to give us the food that we need, OK? Tonya, you pray first, then Billy can pray. Brandon and I will pray last."
     Tonya's prayer was sweet. Then Billy prayed, "Jesus, we need food because Mom doesn't have any money- and we don't like soup. Please give us some graham crackers too." Brandon was tired of sitting still, so I quickly finished by saying, "Thank you, Jesus, for hearing our prayers. Amen." I was concerned about Billy's asking for graham crackers. 
     "Billy, God will give us what we need to eat, but we might have to wait on graham crackers because they are a treat."
     "He will too give us graham crackers! They are important," Billy insisted. 
     While I was heating the soup, I remembered some packets of soda crackers in our car. I kept hoping that I would remember another food item tucked away somewhere. At least Brandon had a couple of jars of baby food to warm his tummy. After we ate the soup and crackers, the kids got ready for bed. The kids said their prayers, and I tucked them in. Quickly all three were asleep. It amazed me how peaceful they looked. They trusted me completely.
     My night was filled with tossing and turning. The decision to trust God for our food seemed unrealistic. We had friends who would help us; was I just being too proud to ask? Did I really have enough faith to do this? Maybe our tomato-soup prayer was just a desperate act. My tired mind and body rested heavily on the bed. The only sound that I heard was the constant song of crickets. Their peaceful melody did not soothe my frightened spirit.
     Morning came quickly. We functioned in our usual manner. I pushed and I prodded. The kids shuffled and groaned. "OK, guys, let's go! Tonya, don't forget your gym suit."
     In his usual energetic way Billy raced to the door. When he swung open the door, his momentum came to a halt. Two bags filled with groceries were sitting in front of our door. We rushed forward to get a closer look. Eagerly we carried them inside, making enough noise to wake up the entire neighborhood.
     Each item was greeted with enthusiasm. Tuna, macaroni and cheese, beans, rice, lemonade and apples were all part of our blessing. Even items like toilet paper were cherished because we had nearly run out of that too.
     As we worked our way into the second bag, we discovered a large blue box. With shouts of delight Billy retrieved the treasure. "See, Mom, I knew that Jesus would give us graham crackers!"
     I hugged Billy, and through tears I answered, "You are right. I'm sorry I didn't believe that He would give us those too." How small my faith seemed next to my son's faith.
     What a lesson I learned that day. It was the faith of a little child that taught me not to limit God. I can bring my needs and my desires to Him. He cares about everything in my life.


"It was the faith of a little child that taught me not to limit God. I can bring my needs and my desires to Him. He cares about everything in my life"








Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays, to each and every one of you readers! -Deb








* the big man: A male human being who does or has done something that makes them feel superior to others, or very good about themselves, although, they know that, their accomplishment, or action, in this regard, doesn't truly mean anything.

                                 

Wednesday, December 22, 2021

I Married My Third Husband Two Times

[Ascent Through The Dark Night Of The Soul: My Life Reflections: The Boy From Brooklyn That I Married . . .  is the post that precedes this one, in my life story.]

There were some parts of my first marriage to Tom that were not covered in the other blog post that I wrote about him; about us. So, there is still more to tell. I  can describe these things and their effect on me from different approaches, and each would be true, but only part of the story. That frustrates me, because I am trying my best to be as honest and accurate as possible in every single post; yet my account of it could sound very different depending on my frame of reference. For example, I could say, and rightfully so, that, in one sense, these issues were not just about Tom, and I, alone. After all, we both manifested different types of damage done to who we became as people, by each growing up in dysfunctional homes where our parents modeled both unhappy and unstable marriages for us. Neither of us learned the skills that were needed for happy, healthy relationships  in our families of origin. So, I could describe how those things, that were passed down to us, led to the issues in our relationship; which is true, to a large extent.

I could also tell my story from the point of view of my being an empath. That's a very relevant aspect to how my life has unfolded, because empaths attract those people that are wounded in their own lives who are subconsciously seeking to be healed by someone. Because 'hurt people hurt people' they wound us in addition to what those in our lives before them already did because they didn't know how to do any better either. An empath becomes aware that this is who we are in this world, at some point in our lives, and it is a fearsome thing, for us, to try to bear up under. We are rather like the person who swims out to save a drowning victim but they grab hold of us in such a way that they harm us, or are the death of us, in the process. People are drawn to the healing light in an empath. They drain us dry in their insatiable neediness to heal themselves, while also having nothing to really offer, of any substance, in return, because of their incessant woundedness. Not everyone seems to be capable of, or care enough to, follow, the Golden Rule, to treat others as they would like to be treated; and none of us do it consistently.


 

For most of my life, I felt obligated to respond to this higher Calling upon my soul by nurturing others, often at my own expense, until I became so burned out, and bitter, by my own needs not ever really being met, that I finally realized, I had to set better boundaries with people. I gave so much more, than I got back, putting myself at risk of being used, and exploited; which others often took advantage of, in various ways. Whether, it is the amount of words, I use, the affirmations, I say, or my being supportive, or understanding, the motivation for it, with me, is that I am trying to give to others what I feel will be a blessing, for them. Nurturance. It still scares me that, I'm far more prone to do this than not. It is not good for me; and in opening my heart, outward, to others, like this, I allow them to bring their toxicity and trauma into my life, when I am already struggling to survive my own brokenness. Adding insult to injury with this (behavioral) losing proposition that I do, is the fact that, in doing this, I often, allow people the space and the grace to avoid taking rightful responsibility for their own actions, inadvertently preventing them from taking proper proactive steps to improve the situation for themselves. What I have learned, the hard way, over the course of my life, is that, people will welcome your propping them up, in whatever way makes life easier, and/or more pleasant, for them, for as long as you are willing to do it; and that if the situation was begun by some ill-advised interaction between this person and myself, it will,  inevitably, lead to my paying, far too big a price, for engaging in the relationship.  I bear the brunt, of their bad behaviors. I improve their life. They, damage mine.


              From Twitter: "Empathy without boundaries is self-destructive"


Any good social worker, psychologist, or minister, can confirm, as well, that those of us who grew up in dysfunctional families have lower chances of having healthy marriages, ourselves. Compounding this issue, is the fact that, with each divorce, we have an ever-increasing likelihood that, any subsequent attempts at marriage will also end in failure. Honestly, by the time, I married Tom, even that first time, it was against, God's Leading in my spirit, my better judgement, and with my full knowledge that I was very much throwing all my baggage in with his baggage for a hope-against-hope that anything good could really take root, and grow, from it. He was the quintessential Peter Pan who refused to grow up and be a responsible man; and he was my marriage number 3, AND number 4, which clearly showed I had already long lost my belief that, in my own damaged state, I would ever find anything any better. I was, 'damaged goods', myself, in so many ways, by then. I knew I had some attributes that could help this young man, though, and because  I needed to feel needed, I climbed on board, his 'sinking ship'; saving his military career, which was in real jeopardy according to his own First Sergeant, due to his nonpayment of personal debts after already being reprimanded and counseled on that very issue previously. To CARE, we need someone or something to care FOR.  I would have been much better off, if I had sworn off marrying men, much sooner than I did, and had simply rescued and nurtured an abused animal from a shelter. Pets, seem to at least be appreciative, and affectionate, toward us, when we care. Tom was neither, of those things, toward me, except for rare, and brief, moments.




I had no illusions, that he loved me. I'd met him in the club, where I worked as a dancer, while he was waiting for another dancer to come sit with him who he had  a crush on. Even so, I married him. I was just burned out, on jerks, in the bar, at the time, and assholes who were always propositioning me for sex. I needed love even if, that meant, my giving it, and not getting it. I was, already, living life as a celibate. So, when Tom turned out to be nonsexual toward me, and nonfunctional in bed as part of that, it didn't alter my lifestyle, in that way. It was disappointing, though; and was enough of a deprivation, for me, that I tried to coax him to want to have sex with me after we were married, but with, little-to-no success. I never knew, why, Tom wasn't sexual toward me. It remained a real problem, at least for me, through both of our marriages to one another. He continued to be asexual, as far as, I, was concerned. I don't THINK he was gay; but he never would discuss it with me. He had shocked me by having a yobo during his one year tour of duty in Korea; almost from the time he arrived there. I'd heard the sad stories, that even the (military) ministers, known as chaplains, had such a woman there, to 'service' them sexually. In my mind, Tom was the male least likely to be involved in such a thing. It was the one thing that I truly thought he was incapable of. So, I felt even more shortchanged in our marriage, when he not only did that, almost as soon as he got there, but that he also did it while we were still married to one another. He actually admitted to me that he had even hit her, in their relationship. I think that my being a strong woman, so sure of myself in many ways back then, intimidated him; and that the sheer submissiveness of that, servant-like, woman who was his yobo, allowed him, to feel like, he was, more, of a man, in his own weakness.  He just seemed like a child-- oblivious, to any, of the expectations, that a wife has of her husband-- the, man, that she marries. Tom escaped into his own inner world. His lifelong obsession with comic books, almost above all else, was his trademark.

I have read that an attribute of an Aquarius, which I am, is that we NEED to care, even MORE than we need to be CARED ABOUT. That is, not only, TRUE, but, it is a good thing, that this is the case, with me, specifically, or my heartbreak, from not really experiencing mutual, and reciprocated, love, relationships, in my life, would be even worse, than it is-- which is still, some really deep heartbreak, in me. Tom needed the guidance that I gave him. But, he also rebelled against that very help. He needed me, but he didn't want me. The only need of mine that he met was his needing me. It was clear to both of us that his life improved by my presence in it. He couldn't have done as well, on his own. He wasn't doing as well, without me in his life. Even his First Sergeant said that, to me, in no uncertain terms. They were tired of trying to babysit him because of his irresponsibility. They were planning to discharge him from the Air Force had I not entered his life and intervened, turning his financial mess around. I knew, that I should not have married him-- and I had almost backed out that day. I thought so little of my own future prospects by then though, that I cast my lot in life in with his, just because, I saw that, I could really make a positive difference in his, messed up, situation. Sadly, I no longer believed that any guy would make a positive difference in mine, so, nothing to hold out for.

The thanks I got, from Tom, for saving his Air Force career, and getting him out of debt by putting him on a budget and teaching him financial responsibility, was his resenting me so much that he began to act out violently toward me. On top of his moving in and out and in and out and in and out, because he really disliked being held accountable to function as an adult, he lost his temper and lashed out at me. When I went to soak in the tub, one day, to destress from all of this, with him, he knocked the wine glass out of my hand, and broke it, sending shards of glass into the bath water with my naked body. He pulled a knife on me one day, while I was on the phone, with a chaplain, at the military base, to get marriage counseling for us. He told me that he had dreams, about harming me. Even about killing me. He mostly just, withdrew, and sulked, like a 12-year-old. Apparently, by all accounts, he was, a completely different guy, at work, than he ever really let me see. There was a whole other side to him causing him to be known as being the guy with the silly sense of humor-- the FUNNY guy-- in his weather forecaster unit at the base. The clown making the others who worked with him at Global Weather at Offutt Air Force Base laugh alot. I NEVER saw that side of him! He kept it separate from our life together. At home, he would perk up, and get really excited, when he had just unlocked the next level of one of his video games, which he spent alot of the time at home playing. He wasn't very interactive with me. He liked my cooking, for the most part. But, he wasn't really interested in, or affectionate with, me. Tom never sought me out to have sex, which most men seem more than willing to do, with a wife, even if they otherwise don't care much for her. I don't think either one of us was in love-- at least, not with one another. We shortchanged ourselves that way. If there is such a thing, as a soulmate, in this life, how, can that person even find you, if you're married to someone you weren't even supposed to marry whom you don't even love in that way? It skews the lives of several people. Not just the two.



Another, point of orientation, that I could use, to describe my marriage to Tom, is that I am an ISFJ-T (https://www.16personalities.com/isfj-personality). It is from the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator inventory, a useful tool to identify an individual's personality type* (https://www.16personalities.com/personality-types).  This is a passage from the website's Romantic Relationships section for ISFJ types like me:

"... in Defenders’ relationships ...it can be too easy for their altruism and kindness to be taken  advantage of, maybe even  without their  partners  realizing  it, while leaving  Defenders’  own  needs  and  dreams  unfulfilled. This  is  something that Defenders’  partners,  and  Defender  personalities  themselves, must look after if they  want  the sort  of long, fulfilling relationships  they dream about. Expressing appreciation  is  often  more   than   just   the  right  words,  it  is  reciprocation."  I gave, so much more, effort, and supportiveness, and caring, to Tom, than I ever got back from him. Even though I have a drive, a need, to love people, more than I need to be loved, by them, in return, that does not mean that I don't need to be loved, in return. I have needs too. When I feel a relationship is not going well and is not good for me, and it shows no signs of improving, despite all measures to do so, I eventually advocate for myself and remove myself from that relationship. No matter if it is the relationship with a husband, a parent, a sibling, a friend or even an employer. If it just isn't going to be a happy relationship to be in, but is largely causing me nothing but, forms of, pain, and suffering, I do myself a disservice if I stay enmeshed in this. Despite what some people may think, I am not the type of person to just walk away from any familial relationship, unless I am acutely aware that it is not a healthy and/or happy one to be in for either of us involved in it and the other person involved does not act as if they have an interest in improving the situation between us so that my needs are also respected and addressed by them. Two people make or break a relationship. One can't be making all the extra effort! That person will become resentful, and eventually, burn out from the bullshit of it.

Scott Stafford wrote, in his online article, 'ISFJ Feelings & Emotions: How the ISFJ Handles Inner Feelings', that ISFJs like me will "usually push aside their own inner emotions in hopes of tending to the needs of those around them." He writes, "For  the ISFJ  taking this time  to prioritize themselves  and their own  inner needs can feel  like  they  are  being  self-centered.  They  don’t  want  to be  someone  who expresses  their own emotions  at the expense of  those around them. Sometimes their own  inner feelings  can seem  a bit like  a burden  to the  ISFJ, and so  they ignore them. They often find it easier to push these feelings aside and cover them up by focusing on  the needs of those  around them. This can  certainly cause  the ISFJ's own  inner emotions  to fester and build up over time. Ultimately neglecting their  own   personal  needs   can  lead  the   ISFJ  to feeling  stressed  and  a  bit overwhelmed  down the line. They might  have moments  where they crash, since they just haven’t  spent enough time  caring  for themselves  and tending to  their own inner needs and desires. For the ISFJ this is something which happens over a long period of time, after they have spent too much energy ignoring these feelings and needs." Read the full article, at:  https://personalitygrowth.com/isfj-feelings-emotions-how-the-isfj-handles-inner-feelings/. Neglecting, my own, needs, took a real toll, on me. Not just with Tom, but in every relationship in my life that I have subjugated my own, real, and normal, needs, for the sake of, the person(s) in the relationship(s) with me. It becomes impossible to meet another's needs when our own needs are consistently not being met. It's especially hurtful when these other people don't seem to really make an effort for me. My righteous indignation flares up at the very thought of this. How dare they, treat someone, so caring, so badly!

The religious bigots and ignoramuses who attempted to ignore and negate God's Love for me, by saying that I couldn't even be a Christian since I was a nightclub dancer, had been married multiple times, wore both a black leather miniskirt and eyeliner, et cetera, would never believe that I was, and am, a spiritually-oriented person. God has given me Words Of Knowledge to tell perfect strangers standing at city bus stops, with me, that I hadn't even been interacting with, prior to that, and spiritual discernment about waitresses taking my order at restaurants, that I shared with them, and left them in tears because through that they saw God saw  them, and cared about what they were going through. I sometimes had, insights, into people, whom I was ringing up, when I was a grocery store cashier, that God gave to me, and if I felt Led by God's Spirit in me to tell them I obeyed and acted on that. That sometimes clarified their future direction which I personally had not known anything at all about and/or confirmed for them whether they were on the right path, toward their own unique destiny. Ever since I was a very young child I have always been much more of a spiritually-oriented person than a carnal one. I tried to stifle it to a large extent when I was a dancer in the nightclubs, and when I was involved in doing prostitution for a short season, during that era, of my life.

I had discovered quite by accident, one day, that I could look at a total stranger's palm and know things about their lives. Because Christian's make such things out to be 'of the devil', I avoided exploring that method of spiritual discernment, for a while, until a friend told me that I should because it was given to me for a reason and seemed to be able to help others in their lives. The Bible says, we're made in God's image, and Isaiah 49:16 says,  "Indeed, I have inscribed [a picture of] you on the palms of My hands." Without ever knowing how I knew I could simply look at the lines on a person's palm, and interpret the symbols that I saw 'inscribed' in their hand. There was a season, in my life, that I tried, to make that into, my job, and personally profit, from it, and that was the only time that it did not go well as I was using it to inform people of their life journey, past, present, and future, that was revealed in their hands. It was clear that it was entrusted to me as a spiritual gift to bless others, and confirm to them that they are a spiritual being, in a body, with a very specific destiny to accomplish in this life on Earth. Christians, are also, taught not to believe in reincarnation, but I do-- although this pilgrimage that I'm on now has so worn me down, and sucked so much life out of me, that I, literally, pray that this is my final life, prior to the return of Jesus and the establishment of His rule and reign which will make all things new. These are the things that I have experienced, that have caused me to believe in reincarnation: I have always been an 'old soul'; I have never quite felt comfortable, in my human body, or in society, as it exists now. I feel like I'm not really the truest essence of 'me'; that I am not, in the era, or the place, that I feel most at home. Even as a small child, who could never have put any of this into words, I had deeply felt these things, in my soul. I had such an intense, and unsettling, reaction to meeting my second husband, Jim, for the first time, in this life. There was no explanation, for it, and no one else has ever caused that kind of reaction in me, other than him. (I tried to describe it in a post that I wrote about him, for this blog.) I remember somehow knowing that he had been someone that I had a history with, a bond of some sort, before we met, in this life. It was very strange. It really shook me up, when I felt that, although I made sure not to show that to him because I knew that it just seemed crazy even to me. We obviously had some sort of 'unfinished business', between us, when we met. I have never felt what I felt with, and for, him, in any relationship in this life; before, or since. Part, of our destinies, were clearly intertwined. I don't know why.

My cockatiel, CeeBee, whom I have not yet done an in-depth blog post on, 'spoke' to my spirit, with his spirit, after he passed away, and indicated that he wanted to return to me, here on Earth. (I had told him, just before he died, that he would be going to Jesus, and that Jesus could do anything, so that he would talk to Jesus, if he wanted to ask Him if he could come back to me.) Awhile, after he died, CeeBee 'spoke', in my spirit, that, he was coming back! He did, in a slightly different form, that he told me he wanted to try. His first time joining me in this life as a cockatiel was a true 'miracle' testimony, and this second time, as a parakeet, was, as well. I plan to cover all that in a future post. It is an amazing and true story of the power of love. Love between two souls that's so strong and eternal it couldn't be stopped even by death. This angel bird from God was, and is, my greatest love story of all!

Jesus spoke directly to the disciples about reincarnation while also acknowledging their unwillingness to accept it, as truth. (Matthew 11:13-15; Matthew 17:10-13) It both amuses and saddens me how people limit God, to the extent that they will contradict or rationalize what He has clearly spoken in His Word, rather than, take Him at His Word. Christians, often ignore it or try to explain it away, because they don't understand it and can't bring themselves to simply admit that God is able to do anything that He decides to do, and that Love is His greatest motivation. "With God all things are possible." (Matthew 19:26) The Bible makes it clear to me, that nothing is too hard for God.(Jeremiah 32:27) These things I have been describing about me aren't directly related to my marriages with Tom but they're background information, on my being a very spiritual person, throughout my life, because that does include when I was married to Tom. Tom was raised religious but didn't seem to be a spiritual person. I think he was raised Catholic but was attending a Baptist church when I met him, which for whatever reason he never attended again, after we married. However, both, Tom and I, noticed quite a bit of supernatural activity, going on in our apartment that we lived in during our first marriage. He moved in, with me, when we got married, and it was not like that, when I lived there, alone. This spiritual activity affected both of us. It seemed to be, particularly heightened, in me, while I was married to Tom, also, although I have no explanation, for, why, that was. Some of these things were unsettling-- even, to me-- and I was used to having supernatural spiritual experiences happen ever since I was a very little girl.




On Christmas Eve, during our, first, marriage, Tom and I went to the Candlelight Service, at an Episcopalian church, in downtown Omaha, that we did not attend; just to celebrate the Season, with other believers. We sat on a small pew, to the right of the sanctuary, as we walked in, that had space for 4 people. I, normally, prefer to sit at either end of a pew, but for some completely unknown reason we chose to sit in the two middle seats of the 4, so Tom sat in the 2nd seat of the 4, and I sat in the 3rd seat, which left a single seat, on each end, of the short pew. These services, are usually quite packed with people, celebrating Christmas, who most often come as families, or couples. Because of that I fully expected that we would end up scooting over, on the pew, at some point; but, no one ever needed us to so we stayed where we were. As we all stood to sing the cherished familiar carols and hymns I, suddenly, saw Jesus, by spiritual Vision, not physical sight. I have had Visions at unexpected times throughout my entire life. I was delighted, by the sight of the Lord, standing up front, facing the people; and I watched Him smile with obvious pleasure, as He enjoyed praise and adoration by His Christian followers. Visions, are most often, very personal things, that God causes a single believer to be able to see using spiritual sight, so no one else there behaved as if they also saw this apparition. God isn't limited to space, time and communication methods which we humans use. He can speak directly into our spirit without ever opening His mouth, as He did with me, in this instance. I smiled broadly as Jesus eventually walked down the aisle, and sat beside me, in that one vacant seat. He imparted the words to my spirit: "You are very loved!", and then he crossed to sit in the other empty seat, beside Tom. Because Tom and I had challenges in our marriage from the very start and I knew that the Lord knew all about all of them,  I thought He was intervening to make things right between Tom and I (although I had felt strongly that I was not supposed to marry Tom, in the first place). Due to that, I thought, that evening, that Jesus was reassuring me, that Tom actually did love me. (I only realized later, when Tom was sent to Korea, and lived with a yobo whom he even abused, cut off spousal support to me with no warning at all, and I divorced him, that Jesus was not, giving me reassurance, that, Tom loved me, but ASSURANCE that HE LOVED ME. I sat alone, in the base chapel at Offutt Air Force Base, for the service, the following Christmas Eve, because Tom was still in Korea and we were not quite divorced yet, so I still had access to the base, as a military dependent. That year, there were no Visions. Just me sitting there, feeling so sad, as I thought back, to the amazing Christmas Eve, just one year ago, as I sat with Tom. I realized, then, that the Lord knew, how UNLOVED and ALONE I would feel, a year later, when He told me that I was very loved-- words which, I have held in my heart over the years, since then; even to this present day and Christmastime.
I looked upward, before the service began on base, that night, and I knew, Jesus was still there in Spirit, even though I couldn't see Him, this time. I whispered, to Him, knowing that, He would know, all, that I meant, by it, "Lord, YOU ARE VERY LOVED!" Years later I also had a silver charm for my bracelet engraved with those precious, powerful, Words, to me, from Jesus. Those few words changed my life!)

That Christmas Eve that Jesus had gone to sit by Tom, the first thing, He did, was to touch Tom on his knee on the leg that was crossed over his other one. As soon as He did that, Tom immediately shifted the position of that leg! I wondered then, how many times, we are touched by the Lord, in some way, but remain unaware, that it just happened, to us. One other thing occurred, in this interacting of Jesus with our spirits. Jesus began speaking into Tom's spirit without moving His mouth as He had just done with me, only He was imparting alot of information into Tom. Intrigued, and frankly, hoping that He was causing Tom to be a better husband to me, than he had been, I spoke to Jesus, spirit-to-Spirit, asking Him if this is what He was doing, with Tom. (Now, all of this was happening without, anyone around, seeing this, as far as I know. So, the church service, continued on, in the natural, earthly, realm, while all of this silent, supernatural, impartation was being done in Tom and I.) Jesus has, almost always, appeared gentle, and loving, in the various Visions that I have had of Him, throughout my life. But, this time, it was different. When I asked Jesus what He was imparting to Tom, and whether it was about me, and our marriage, Jesus answered in a much sterner tone than I have ever heard Him use before or since as He said, emphatically, in response to each inquiry, "It is not for you to know!" I never did know, what Jesus said in Tom's spirit, then. I also couldn't ask Tom about it. He seemed oblivious to that, heavenly download, that the Lord was speaking into him; and Jesus had told me, more than once, as I tried to get Him to tell me, what He was saying, to Tom, that it was not for me, to know. So, as frustrating as that was to me, I had to respect His guidance about it.
Whatever it was, it didn't save our marriage. Either, of the marriages, between us.

Tom couldn't live in this basically-one-room-efficiency apartment, of mine, that he moved into, with me, when we married the first time, and not notice that I 'knew' things because of spiritual impartations and discernment. He kept testing me with questions, about things, and I kept passing those tests. When some football game came on TV, he would ask me, as the two teams were taking the field for the start of the game, which team, would win. As I simply sat on the bed, cross stitching, a Christmas ornament, I would look up at the TV screen, briefly, when he asked me, and whatever spiritual entity told me the answer, or however it was that I knew it, I would give the answer to Tom. That team might have begun losing for the first 3 quarters of the game, and look like they could never pull off a "W", at this point. I just knew that I saw a type of halo, enveloping the team, at kickoff, and that they had to win the game; and they did. Once, when he moved out, in one of his sulks, I lit a candle and made a request over its flame that before the candle burned out, Tom would come home. Whenever I would say his name, the flame would become larger; and only when I spoke his name. I'd never done that before or after. I had just felt spiritually led to do that at the time. At exactly the moment the lit candle finally burned itself out, Tom returned to the apartment, saying, in an urgent tone of voice, that all he knew was that he just HAD TO COME BACK; he could not stay away another moment! He looked confused, because it had only been hours since he had moved out, again; supposedly, for good. Whatever spiritual forces were at work in our marriage, though, they didn't seem to want us together permanently. After all, I had been told by God not to marry Tom, but I had done it anyway, and then prayed for God to bless and fix what wasn't even His Will for me, or for Tom. 

Tom wasn't normally violent, but we did have to go to marriage counseling with a chaplain on base when he started doing things like pulling a knife on me when we weren't even having a big fight about anything at the time. He told the chaplain I had alot of spiritual 'knowing', because, it was so active during our first marriage, that is became impossible to ignore. The chaplain got a somewhat condescending look on his face when Tom told him that about me, and turned toward his desk to pick up a picture-- like, an artist's rendition-- of some scenario, I had never seen, anywhere, in my life, before, that had alot of assorted figures in it. Looking at me intently, the chaplain requested that I tell him, which one, of those in the picture, was Lucifer. This was an Orthodox chaplain as I recall whose preferred manner of worship leaned toward mysticism, much as my own does.** He put the picture in my hands, and it took me about 2 seconds of looking at the beings it depicted, to scan it, with my spiritual discernment, and respond, to him, matter-of-factly, as I handed it back to him, with the correct answer. It also happened to be the one in the picture most would consider to be least likely to be the devil, were they using their natural, physical, sight to look at it. Tom, wasn't in the least surprised, since he lived with me. This was 'normal' for me. But the chaplain sat there stunned as Tom said, "See what I mean, about Stevie?" (I still went by my dancer alias even when I left dancing to marry Tom, and then with my fourth and final husband, as  I had met them both in the Backdoor Lounge where I was working as a dancer at the time. After living my life as 'Stevie', for so many years, it was more my name than 'Deborah', 'Debby', or 'Deb' was.) This chaplain looked at me, and said, with an obvious incredulity in his voice, "I have often shown this picture to people and asked them to identify which character is the devil. No one, has, ever, gotten that right-- until you. I am, truly amazed." Tom and I had several counseling sessions, with this man, but we never knew one single thing about his private life, as it was a professional interaction. However, one day, I was just brushing my teeth before we left for our appointment with him, when the Lord suddenly told me something quite personal about the chaplain, and instructed me to tell him when we went to see him that day. Those types, of directives, from God, sometimes, caused me to feel intimidated, depending on, who it was that I had to tell it to, and the type, of interaction that this was to take place in. Because, this chaplain, was a counselor, to me and my husband, because of marriage problems, this was one of the times that I felt shaky about speaking this rhema*** Word from God; but I had learned to obey God in these situations, despite how I felt, because doing it honored Him.

So, at the end, of our counseling session, later, that day, I turned to the chaplain, before we left, and said, "Chaplain, the Lord gave me a Word for you and told me to be sure to tell you." I paused and then carefully told him exactly what it was. I said, "God said that you and your father are estranged from one another because you have let pride and unforgiveness come between you in your relationship, and because you are a representative of God, as a chaplain, He needs you to fix this." This chaplain, had gray hair, around his temples, as a middle-aged man, who was older than I, at the time. So it was a rather awkward Word, to have to deliver, for me. Nevertheless, I knew, God only spoke Truth, and that He had asked me to do this, for Him; so I did. The next time, I spoke with the chaplain, he told me, that, his father was coming, to visit him, and his family, for the holidays, the very next day after I had told him what God said he needed to do, and that he had just not felt, motivated, or able, to reach out, to his father, in a conciliatory way, to try, to heal their broken relationship with one another. His wife had even been wanting it to be better between the two men, he told me, but until God got involved directly through my rhema Word to him he had not been wanting to humble himself to be the one to attempt that process. Realizing that his God, whom he served, was not happy with the status quo of this situation and that since He wanted it to be dealt with, by him, that God must also be prepared to change the two hearts, involved, he reached out to his father upon his arrival for what had been a dreaded visit by him, and reported to me-- to God's Glory-- that things were now much improved.  I always feel, both, humbled, by God using me to reach others that He loves, and amazed, as people, who receive these ministry moments, from God, through me, tell me, about these things, that God is doing, for them, in their lives, that I truly had no knowledge of, myself, prior, to God telling me, whatever He wanted to tell them, through me. There was no more condescension toward me, as a layperson in a troubled marriage, who was being counseled, by him, in this man of God. He was a believer, himself, now, in God working, through me, in various ways, in the lives of people, that He loved and wanted to interact with in a more personal way. He acknowledged, and respected, my spiritual gifts from God, to minister as laity.

I am who I am. I am an empath; even moreso, a mystic, which is not something that I chose to be, or decided to be, and it has made my own life alot harder and sadder, in ways. They say 'ignorance is bliss', but I know alot more, than I let on, because it can often intimidate people if they know how different from most folks  I actually am, and that I just know things about them, that they know there is no way that I could know. I don't try, to find those things out. In fact, I often cringe, when God tells me the things that He does about people, and their lives and sins, because I, often, still have to interact with these very people about normal things in everyday situations, and it can be, distracting to my mind, and troubling to my spirit, to have this burden, of the extra knowledge, about people's 'dirty laundry'. Still, I am humbled that God is willing to use me, to touch people's lives, and I'm glad to be of service, to my Lord and my God. I cannot explain how I was able to 'read (the symbols in peoples') palms' and I know that most Christians say that's 'evil'. I've been a Christian my whole life. Granted, I am not a 'normal' one in the sense that I am not religious-- but I am very spiritual. I was Called by God to be.  I always tell people that I am totally honest with God about everything because I know that He already knows everything about me, and everything I've ever done in my life and He still uses me for His Glory and purposes. If He didn't use people who are sinners, who are broken and imperfect, He wouldn't have anyone to use!  I am well aware of all that I am and all that I have done in my life; as is God. So, a few years ago, when I started attending a new, spirit-filled, church, that was in walking distance of the apartment that I moved into, after, living in the homeless shelter, I knew that, no one knew me, or anything about me, there, which was, a good thing, to me, because, I signed up for a private Prophetic Word session with their Prophecy Team and I wanted a clear Word from God about my life as it was.

When I went into the room, for my turn, with them, I sat in a chair, facing, 3 or 4 Prophetic Team members; none of whom knew me. I prayed, silently, asking God to speak, through these people, and I knew that I would know if what they spoke was truly from God, because God is Truth, so their words to me would have to be true, as well. I was more used to ministering to others. But, after the summer I'd just been through, in 2017, I needed to be ministered to myself, for a change. As  I had ministered to the chaplain, at the Air Force base, decades before, through a personal Word from God to him, I needed a Word from God myself, now. Whether clergy, or laity, those of us who minister to others can end up feeling drained, and burned out, if our own needs aren't met, or we don't, also, receive some ministry, to ourselves. 'Religious' people can often be some of the most judgmental people on Earth. God knows ALL ABOUT ME! He KNOWS, that I was a nightclub dancer-- but I told many dancers and customers about God's Love for them over the years and prevented one customer's suicide by giving him that 'good news', the Gospel, from God. He knows that I used to read palms and tell people that those symbols were unique to them, similar to fingerprints, and were specific symbols showing a destiny that was theirs alone. God created each person including the markings on their bodies. I sat there quietly, silently, before the Prophetic Team, who recorded a CD of the session with them, and presented it to me as a free gift, before I left.  I stand before God daily as exactly who and what I am, in all my imperfections. I know me, almost as well as God knows me. (Most people don't know me; though they tend to think they do. They decide, quickly, about me, put me in a box, that they think defines me, and do their best, to leave me there, ostracized, rejected.) I knew, that this Prophetic Team was listening to God's Spirit, about me, that day, when one of them said, about me, "You, are careful, to give, God, the glory, in all things." God is my life, my everything, and my all-in-all. I love Him, with all I am. 

Personal relationships are often more complicated, and harder, for a mystic, or an empath****. The constant instability Tom brought to my life in our first marriage really stressed me out. He treated our home together like it had, a revolving door, as he continually moved out and moved back, and left again then came back, and I was never really sure why he did that, aside from the fact, that, I needed him to grow up and take some responsibility. He was all about his comic books and video games. It was all about constant escape from reality with him. While, he did that,  I was left to deal with the reality of saving his military career, by getting his debts paid, doing without any sexual gratification, even though I was married now, so I didn't really want to continue to be celibate, and mothering this boy, who refused to be a man. I was really getting the short end of this deal. Adding to the stress I felt, Tom told me that, he could see shadows, going across the apartment wall, at times (which, while unexplainable, were not his imagination, as I, also, saw them, myself), and that, when he was sleeping at night, he had dreams, about them, or something like them, telling him to kill me! Since Tom was normally easygoing, to a fault, and was not usually violent, it was, as concerning, to him, as it was to me.

We weren't sure what was going on with this. My apartment, that he had come to live in with me when we married, didn't have, all this, dark, spiritual activity, in it, when I had lived there as a single woman. One evening while Tom was at work at the military base, my guardian angel, 'Hebriam' (unsure, of the actual spelling, of his name; or if this angel is actually a 'he'), spoke to me as I sat on the bed doing a craft project. (Because we lived in a small, efficiency, apartment, there wasn't a livingroom or a den or a couch or sofa. Basically, just a bed and a dinette set, and bar stools, at the kitchen counter, where we sat to eat our meals.) He told me, his name was Hebriam, when I asked him, during this encounter, so I nicknamed him 'Heebie', because when a being in a deep-blue velvet robe, with very white wings, stands several feet taller than me, and manifests themselves out of thin air, it can give me 'the heebie-jeebies', since it is so sudden and unexpected. Heebie said to me, "You are in danger, from your husband, Tom." After I'd recovered, from being startled, by both, his presence, and his words, I replied, "I never knew, you could  talk, until now. From, the first time that I ever saw you, when I was 18, until now (I was around 28 or 29, when we were having this conversation), you have never, actually, said, anything, to me. What, do you mean, by, I'm in danger from Tom?" 

My guardian angel said, "Tom is being deceived, by dark forces, into thinking that you are a danger, to him. They are trying to convince him to harm you." "In what way?", I asked. Hebriam said, "The danger that you are in from your husband, is, up to, and including, death. I spoke, to you, because, I was told to warn you. You are not to tell Tom, about this conversation that took place between us, or what I just told you." I said, "But, Tom is my husband! I trust him not to harm me, and I don't think, married people, should keep secrets from one another." 'Heebie' said, again, "You are NOT TO TELL HIM!" Then, he disappeared from my physical sight.  I was more prone to do foolish things in my younger years, and going against the angel's directive to me was one of those things. Tom already knew there was alot of spiritual activity, in my life, and in our home. He had even told me that, he had woken up some nights after having nightmares, to see dark shadows of otherwise invisible figures moving across the wall. So, I reasoned (wrongly) that if he knew, what the angel had warned me about, that we could stand, against it, as a united front, opposing these forces, of evil; together. However, when I told him, about it, it seemed to unleash a floodgate of even more upheaval in our marriage and Tom began to act out in violent ways, then-- including when he pulled the knife on me.

My guardian angel, had spoken, to me, what the Lord had directed him to; so, he had obeyed God. I had disobeyed not only his admonition to me but God Himself, who had assigned Hebriam to me, to protect and help me. It felt like I unleashed  a hornet's nest, when I told Tom what the angel told me not to. It was like, I was constantly battling the furies of Hell from then on. It began to get worse between Tom and I, no matter what I did to try to make it better. As it became much more unstable, I became so stressed out, that at one point I felt like I couldn't continue coping with all of this, anymore. So, I took myself to the hospital (the civilian one because military members have a security clearance that can be considered to be compromised if their unit became aware that there's violence, abuse or instability being acted out, by them, including, in their home life. If they lose that clearance, they can even lose their career-- and I had worked hard to save Tom's). I told the woman assessing my condition that I was at my wits' end. I was so drained by all the difficulties with Tom, that I didn't know what to do next, to try to make things better, between us. I was crying hysterically as I told her what had been going on.
She kept saying, to me, "You, are just really upset. Go home. We can't admit you, for crying and being upset." She told me that three times, but I was adamant that I could not handle any of this, anymore. So she said, "We HAVE to have an actual MEDICAL diagnosis, to be able to admit you, for insurance billing purposes. So be aware, of that." Then, I was admitted, to the, mental health, floor, for a few days.

The day I arrived, I was told that, I had to have a complete physical exam, which included the, added, female, evaluations, of a pelvic exam, and, a breast exam. I met other mental floor patients in much worse shape than I was in, and my heart just went out to them. But, I felt completely burned out, by Tom's behaviors, and stressed out, by the instability, temper tantrums, and selfishness that he brought into my life and my home. All the patients, on that floor, ate meals together. Both male and female. As we started to converse, with each other, at mealtimes, I was horrified, to realize that, a pattern, of diagnosing women, with breast cancer, was going on in this place; probably for profit, since, the news had, recently, reported that this very hospital was operating in the red, and was struggling to stay afloat. One, of the women, spoke up, as she ate, saying her exam had revealed that she likely had breast cancer, and she was extremely upset by this devastating news! I was, also, feeling, even more, stressed, in addition to the acute stress, that I had begged to be admitted because of, due to the doctor who had examined me when I first came, seeking help, saying that, he'd found lumps, in MY breasts; and that, they could be cancerous, which called for a mammogram to be ordered along with more testing. When, I heard, this one other woman, say, that, she, had been told, that she had lumps in her breasts, which, could be cancerous, and how much that was adding to her feeling really upset, right now, all, I thought was, 'What are the odds, that we were both told that? Maybe, our constant stress level contributes to making us more vulnerable, to this issue.' However, just after, she told us all that, and every patient from that floor was in that room, to eat lunch-- another woman spoke up, even before I could, and said, "Wow! Really?!? I'm sorry, to hear that. I was told the SAME THING, earlier, today, in MY exam!" Then, a third, and a fourth woman, spoke up-- ALL saying that, THEY had ALSO been told this, and that, as a result, of that, more testing was being ordered, for them, which, they did not like, being forced, to have to deal with, along with the, added, anxiety, associated with that frightening doctor's report. After the 4th woman, saying this, I told them that I had been given that same report, by the doctor who had done my exam, when I was admitted. Then, I asked, whether, all the other female patients, in that room, had also been told this news, when examined-- and EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM said, that they had. We all sat there, in shock, looking at each other, as it dawned on us that this hospital had to be lying, to us; or, at least, most likely, many of us.

I left that dining room immediately, asked the nurse to let me use the phone, and I called Tom, to come, get me-- right away; which, he did. Even though, as a wife of a military member, CHAMPUS insurance would cover the cost of these things, it was wrong of this hospital, that was struggling for its very survival, to try to make a profit from scaring patients with false reports of their conditions, and take unfair advantage, of our vulnerability, and our trust, like this; and operate so unethically. Who knows how far, they were willing to take this? Would they claim, after adding a mammogram, to each woman's medical bill, that they no longer saw any lumps; or, would they go so far as to tell us, after that-- and who knows, how many other patients!-- that we needed surgery to remove things from our bodies that weren't even really there? HOW LOW WOULD THEY GO-- for MONEY? MAIMING, people?!? Getting out of there, as fast as I could, that day, put me back into the situation at home, with Tom. But, I still had both my breasts. Not surprisingly, no other doctor ever told me, before, or after, that happened, at the hospital, that I had lumps, in my breasts; or, anything else, that, they would, then, tell me, could be cancerous. I signed out AMA, to leave that place, and I prayed they would go out of business.
What ended up failing though wasn't the horrid hospital, but my marriage to Tom.

When our one year of, legally required, separation was done, and our divorce was final, I left Nebraska to take a nanny job in Dutchess County in upstate New York.[Post is: https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2021/01/why-my-favorite-nanny-job-did-not-last.htmlWhen, that, job, eventually, fell apart, I was hired by a divorced woman with adolescents, a boy, and a girl, whom, I met, but was never actually the nanny for, because they were gone for the summer, to be with their father's family, and the woman who hired me was not a nice person. [https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2021/03/experiences-always-have-effect-on-us.html] I had to scramble, on, very sudden, notice, to get out of her Manhattan high-rise, causing me to grab any domestic worker position, I could find. That turned out to be a job being the live-in maid for a single middle-aged man, in Oyster Bay on Long Island, who sexually assaulted me (by touching but not raping me), causing me to look in the yellow pages of the phone book for  a church that might help me get away from him while he was out of the house for awhile. In a pure panic, I also called Tom, who was now stationed at Fort Drum in Watertown, about 30 miles from Canada, in upstate New York. Although he was a weather forecaster in the Air Force he had been stationed at this army base to do that job, after he requested a duty assignment closer to his relatives, in New York City, where he was from, following his year in Korea. Tom, heard the terror, in my voice, as I told him about this man sexually exploiting me, after a quick hire for a domestic employment job, with him, that was caused by the woman in Manhattan doing what she did. Tom told me he was coming to help me, but in the meantime, I had to get out before bedtime, when this man posted his two Dobermans by his bed, and ordered me to lay down beside him. I was truly scared of those 2 dogs-- and, this man! I ran my finger up and down the long list of churches in the phone book, asking the Holy Spirit to show me, which one might help me escape. I felt a strong 'anointing'-- a, quickening, of God's Spirit, in me-- as I touched one, of the churches, name and number. I dialed them, quickly, explaining, the situation, and the pastor, whom I was speaking with, told me that, he was sitting in his office, at the church, when the phone rang, and that, just before, I called, two men, that go to his church, had just wandered into his office and said they had their van parked right outside, if he had, anything, that he needed them to do. God as my Witness!

I knew, it was the church, the Holy Spirit let me know I should call! They drove to the house right away, and got me and my belongings into the van, and out of this house, before the man returned. I didn't get paid for the chores and meals, that I did, while, briefly, working for him, there; but, I didn't get raped again, in my life, either, which I felt, pretty sure, he was going to do to me soon. I called Tom, with an update, that I was out of the house safely, and at the church. Even so, he said, he was still coming, there, to be sure, I was okay. It took him a couple of days, to finally get to the church, due to some car trouble, he had, and other issues on his end. But, another interesting thing, about this church, which the Holy Spirit knew, when He led me there-- was that they had a dorm for transients that their church was helping, right on church grounds; and although a few people lived long-term, in these rooms, one guy, was away, at the time, I was brought there, so, I stayed in that room since he was gone. God is so amazing! I'd never been to Long Island in my life, and after, this man hired me, and picked me up, in Manhattan, to drive me out to his home, in Oyster Bay, I never saw anything else but the inside of his house where I was basically watched by him and kept like a prisoner, for the week or so I was there. When Tom arrived at the church, we spent a couple of days just talking, but when it was time for him to get back, to base (his commanding officer called the church and told me that Tom didn't wait for clearance to come there, by getting officially authorized Leave, so that he was technically AWOL, on my behalf, at that point!), he decided that he didn't want to take me with him, and he left me there in Oyster Bay at the church. That's how capricious Tom's emotions about me always were. Hot and cold, back and forth, with no seeming rhyme, or reason, for any of it. I enjoyed my time in Oyster Bay, though. I was able to stay there at the church, for a few weeks, before I left, to start a, new, nanny job. I did some deep cleaning at the church, while I was there, to repay them for taking me in like that.

I was offered the chance to work for, the, comedic, actor, Bill Murray, in Palisades, New York, as a live-in nanny to his kids. The domestic employment agency said, I could be driven to his house, that very day, to start that job, if I wanted it. It was an overwhelming responsibility to me, so I declined. (Here's a link to the property that Bill Murray lived in, then: https://virtualglobetrotting.com/map/bill-murrays-house-1/view/google/. Instead, I went with a job, through another nanny agency, in Westchester County, New York, to be the, full-time, live-in, nanny, for a, sweet, red-headed, baby boy, named Will. I sat in a movie theater that same year on my day off, from this nanny job, eating popcorn and saying to myself, "THAT could've been MY BOSS right now!" while I watched the 1988 Bill Murray movie, Scrooged. I plan to write a separate blog post about the nanny job that I took at some point.

Fed up, with trying the nanny thing-- which, was great, when it worked out, but I was finding, that was harder to come by, than I had thought-- I went back home, to Omaha, Nebraska; and, to dancing in the nightclubs. One day, I called Tom, at the army base in Watertown. When I called his unit, he answered the phone, and sounded both shocked, and surprisingly delighted, to hear my voice, on the other end. We started talking, again, after I hadn't seen him since he left me behind, in Oyster Bay, before, and I ended up leaving Omaha to go, by bus, to remarry him. I NEVER-- in ALL my (5 with 4 husbands) marriages-- had a REAL wedding dress; or a diamond ring. So, before I left Omaha, I-- rather pathetically-- bought those for myself. Even so I didn't end up wearing the wedding dress. I think we just got remarried at the courthouse there, and I wore jeans; but, it was so unremarkable that, while I think, that is right, I am not absolutely sure of it. As for the diamond ring, I sold it, many years later, because I only wore it a few times, and I actually DON'T EVEN LIKE to wear RINGS! The wedding dress and diamond ring are what, we are TOLD, we're SUPPOSED TO WANT; but, I realized that, I didn't really need OR want those things. I am just not a 'typical' girl, in many ways. Besides unique aspects of who I am, as a person, many of which, I touched on, or elaborated on, in this post, I don't even like wearing rings, and rarely wear jewelry. I sold all my 'real' jewelry pieces, over the years, so when I do occasionally wear jewelry, it is, cheap, costume jewelry-- that I actually like better! Many of the 'trappings', of an earthly existence, that most people seem to want or be chasing after-- like power, prestige, climbing the ladder of success to the top rung, expensive toys and trips,  and such, are not things that I want, at all. What, I love, about life, is having real and meaningful conversations where my soul interacts with another person's soul  and eating fresh fruits and vegetables while savoring their simple, straightforward goodness. I love going for walks in Nature; listening to the birds, calling back and forth. I like being spontaneous; bursting out into song or doing a happy dance for no other reason than I felt like it. I don't even own a car. I walk and I have a bike  I can ride. The simpler, the purer, the better, for me. Laughter, is a real necessity, for my happiness. I don't need, fancy, or formal. I like, for MY life, to be, SIMPLE!

When, I called Tom, at Fort Drum, and we reconnected, which, led to our, second, marriage, I didn't do it because I truly believed it would be any better the second time around. I did question him, about his finances. Whether he was handling his responsibilities. He assured me, he was; and there didn't seem to be unpaid bills, this time around. He did have a mountain of unwashed laundry, though. It seems that he simply bought more new outfits to wear rather than wash those that were already available to him. When he moved out of the barracks, where he had been living as a sergeant, before we remarried, and moved into temporary housing, for families (while we were on the Waiting List for more permanent housing on base) and I saw, that pile of dirty laundry, I told him that, I would NOT BE WASHING IT. I honestly wondered, for a minute, if he had remarried me just to get a wife to do his chores, which he had apparently neglected while single. I was very well aware of Tom's stacks of comic books, still, being, his pride and joy. In fact, in doing the research, for this blog post, I came across a link to Tom's Amazon Wish List, of all things, and ALL that was IN it were publications that appeared to be comic books. I also researched whether he ever married anyone else, since he was always such a Peter Pan, and it appears that he did. I couldn't help but wonder, if she came to regret that, if, in fact, he never did grow up, into a man. He was younger than me so he is 62 now. He shares the same birthday with my deceased cockatiel CeeBee  which is November 14th. (My son Jay's birthday is November 15th.) Tom was, still asexual, around me, during the second marriage. Because he had a yobo in Korea and he claims they were sexual, with one another, I didn't know, what to think, or believe, about why he, literally, never tried to (or apparently, wanted to) have sex with me. TWO MARRIAGES, to this guy, and I was living as celibate as when I was single! The few times that I got him to, at least try, to have sex with me, we could have played, 'The Minute Waltz', for 'mood music', because he was all done within that, short, amount of time. I felt like, I was drowning, in disappointments, in life.

I had no illusions left, about Tom, though. I did, go into it clear-eyed this, second, time, around. The alternative, seemed to be, continuing on, dancing, in the clubs. I enjoyed the dancing-- the creativity of performing; of interpreting any song that I got from the jukebox or the DJ with the movements, of my body. Expressing, it. But those men, the club customers that I had to sit and talk to almost every hour of every shift, wanted me, in the most superficial of ways, which began as an ego boost, but became the junk food for a starving soul. Mine. They wanted me, but I needed, to be needed; and, Tom, needed me. Not as much to save his career, get him out of debt, or do his laundry, but to help him grow up. Tom, didn't want me, but, he definitely needed me. There is something about being needed that brings out the best, in me. It causes me to, at least want to, and most often, try to, rise to the occasion. I am my best self, and my most fulfilled self-- given all, possible, options-- when who, and what, I am, as 'me', can be of help, support and benefit to other living things on this planet-- whether that is people, pets, or plants. Even inanimate, projects, with no emotions, need my input, to become better versions. One example from our second marriage was that Tom told me, a few weeks prior, that his annual fitness test was coming up, and that he had done very poorly with it, the previous year. I can't recall now if he was able to finish that, or pass it, but in the military someone can even be discharged from the service, for not meeting fitness standards, and Tom never exercised except for walking places on base. He was, the poster boy, for the term, 'Couch Potato'. He wasn't obese, but, he wasn't physically fit, either. There was a street near the barracks that we were housed in along with other families waiting for permanent base housing, which was not ever very busy with traffic, and I knew exactly what was expected, of him, for this run, that was coming up, because I had been active duty military, also in the Air Force, and I had to pass the same fitness standards, while I was in the service. I helped, Tom, prepare for and pass it by taking him outside, regularly, to train for that run.
 
I ran alongside him, to both coach and encourage him. I gave him tips, about how to avoid hyperventilating while running, and we ran the distance he would have to be able to handle, when the day of the Fitness Test evaluation arrived. Tom, would never have done any of this, on his own. He was basically lazy, or, at least, he was not motivated, much. I don't know whether that was due to, depression, or not, in the sense that, people who usually choose to live their lives in escapism, may also suffer from depression, or some other psychological and behavioral manifestation, of an inability, or unwillingness, to accept, the, harsher, realities, of life. He wasn't diagnosed as depressed, or being treated for it, or anything else. However, he was extremely escapist. He improved alot, with his run, because of all the support and encouragement that I gave him. I was concerned, though, when it got late, on the day of his Fitness Test, and he still hadn't come home. I made a call to his unit, to ask whether he was still at work. The commander answered, and laughing a little, told me that the unit members had actually done "much better' with their run this year, but they were also requalifying on weapons, and that part, was going poorly. Being on an Army base, which was hosting this Air Force weather unit, that was a big deal, as well. When Tom, finally did, get to the barracks that we were living in, he told me that he completed the run. There was no hug, no thanks, no gratitude, from him, for me, though. Tom was a taker not a giver. I got nothing in return for all the ways that, I was there, for him, in our two marriages, except for knowing I made a huge difference, in the outcome, of the major aspects of his quality of life. I enjoyed, knowing I was needed; but I would have appreciated some affection as a wife. Dare I even say, a little love? It was so daunting and disheartening. I gave alot, while, I settled for so little. It's sad, to think back, to these things, in my life.

I always knew that I was worth more and deserved more than I was given, by the people in my life who were my, most personal, relationships. Parents, siblings and spouses. Even, the military, of my country, that I served when I was enlisted, but was so continually sexually harassed that I became despondent and gave up on it in despair. That teaching that says we reap what we sow pisses me off, because it hasn't been the case for me. I've given so much more to people than I ever got in return from them. Eventually I became bitter and burned out from doing this, and I knew that-- for my own survival-- I needed to stop, doing that. I'm better about it, now; but, still, a long way, from having or maintaining an equitable investment in the relationships, of various types, that I am involved in or engaged in. Perhaps the statement, pictured below, holds the key, to the truth about why I came up so short, after investing so much of my care and concern in others that didn't do that for me, to the degree that they should have, at least, in the name of love, if these relationships were to truly be, happy, and healthy, for both, of us, in those. Maybe it wasn't what I have sowed, that was the problem, but, the soil of, these, people, that I sowed into. I don't think that any of the people who have shortchanged me in my life with these poor quality relationships would ever admit or agree that the fault lies in them, much, more, than it does, with me. I sowed some great things, into very poor quality soil. So, of course, I got weeds, instead of flowers. There is a real life lesson in this realization, but sadly I learned it much too late, in my life.
 



The consolations I got, in my second marriage to Tom, were outside our marriage. I had never been on an army base, before, and Fort Drum was a big and beautiful base. Home to the 10th Mountain Division. I sat outside, on bleachers, listening to commanding officers praising the achievements of their troops while their families looked on. It was inspiring to see and hear. Army life is a very different orientation to U.S. military service, in many ways, than, the Air Force, that I was enlisted in. I saw soldiers in line to buy things in the Base Exchange (BX on Air Force bases; PX on Army bases) wearing camouflage face paint, after a day of training as warriors. One day, I heard, live, music, and looked out the window of the barracks that was our temporary housing on Fort Drum to see a marching band, in formation, on the street right outside. I grabbed my camera and ran outside to take photos of them, as they marched back and forth while they played the song, Somewhere Over The Rainbow from the movie, 'The Wizard Of Oz'. It turned out to be a National Guard unit, known as, the 'Rainbow Division', from the New York City area, fulfilling their 2-week-long Annual Training requirement there. Their commanding officer, was on the steps of the nearby barracks, that they were staying in, while at the base, and he saw my delight, at the band playing. After he let me know that I was welcome, and not intruding, or out-of-line, I actually went into the paved street as the band did another about-face, while marching back and forth, and laid on the asphalt, to take some photos, of the rows of band members, as they walked right past me. (I gauged, the safest place to put myself, to do this, according to the, fixed, straight, rows, that they were marching in.) When, it was over, I walked over, to thank, the office in charge, for his allowing me that pleasure and privilege. We talked awhile. He introduced himself as Lieutenant Colonel Kessenich. Tom, was still sulking, and had moved out, again, for awhile. I never knew when, he would be back, when he did this, move in, and move out, thing, that he did; including, during this, second, marriage. It was, just what he did, when I placed expectations on him to be more responsible, than he had, any desire, to be. Poor, little, Peter Pan! So, I was often, left alone, by him, at the old barracks; at least, until, he would, 'boomerang' back, again, for, yet another, inevitable, round, of this, move in, move out, game, which never, accomplished anything, except to, allow him, to escape, his responsibilities.

This, happened to be, one of those times. In the course of our conversation, as he asked, how I came to be there, on base, I told Michael (this Colonel) that I was a, married, dependent, of an Air Force weather forecaster, stationed there, and what I was dealing with, from Tom, regularly going AWOL, from our marriage, to sulk. I ended up agreeing to go out to dinner with this man, that evening. I had been left alone, ALOT, by my, so-called 'husband', and it was wearing really thin, for me, by now. I believe we went to the Officer's Club, on base, to eat; and we just talked. I was so glad to finally feel some, affirmation, from someone. He brought me a gift. Two bracelets. He said the solid one represented my strength, that he had noticed as we had talked earlier, after his band had played, and the spiral one, caught the light, representing the beauty of my spirit that managed to remain upbeat despite all of the heartache in my situation. We didn't do anything sexual with each other. We did talk more, for the short time that he was there with his troops, and kept in touch, for decades, after that. Our destinies, did not seem to align, to be together, romantically, but, Michael was a man, that saw, all, the amazing attributes, in me. He reminded me of them, during, many, hard times in my life, when he thought, I might be, losing sight of them, because I was going through so many, bad, things. He really was a, good, and caring, friend, to me, and I appreciated that, so much!

I barely noticed, other families, moving out of the old barracks that we were living in, while waiting for, better, base housing. When, I did see it happening, because a new friend, who I met while living there, would come to our door to say good-bye, when, they got their permanent base housing, I chalked it up to the fact that, she was married to an Army soldier, and that, since, this was, an Army base, perhaps, they, got, preferential, treatment. About the time that, another, family, with small children, arrived, to the barracks, and I overheard, and saw, the mother, combing lice out of her children's hair, after they had just used a product to try to rid them of a, family-wide, lice infestation, in the showers of the ladies' latrine, I started to really pay attention, to the fact that, I no longer saw, any, of the familiar faces, in the halls, bathroom, or kitchen, which, we were, all, sharing, while, we were here. There were, completely, different, people now. I told Tom about there being lice in the barracks now which is easily spread, and I began to question him about where exactly we were, on the Waiting List, for permanent housing. Fort Drum, was in, a real construction boom, while, we were there, and the, permanent, housing, being assigned now, was all, newly-built, quadruplex homes, each with their own private patio and yard. It would be a tremendous, and welcome, improvement, over living in this, old, bare-bones, military barracks! Tom updated me but only when I asked him, about, where, we were, on this Waiting List; saying that, they just weren't to our name, yet. Days, had become weeks, that had become months, and, families, who had come to the temporary housing barracks, long after we did, were also all gone, now, to brand new, never-lived-in, homes of their own, on base. I got more and more insistent about it. Tom's telling me to just be patient, and wait our turn, wasn't cutting it at all, with me, anymore. I thought he was just being too passive about this issue, by continuing to not get it addressed and resolved on our behalf.

I finally took matters into my own hands, and got the phone number for the office that managed the housing Waiting List, and called them, myself, to ask, what was the delay, with, our being assigned permanent housing? I was, stunned, confused, and angry, at their answer. I was told that, our name, had come up, to the top, of the list, to be assigned permanent housing, several times, already; but, that, each time, that it had, they had called the service member (in this case Tom) to let him know, and that he, had declined, the permanent housing, every single time! So he had been, playing me, lying to me, all this time! But, why? Despite our having the usual marital issues, that we had always had, which I have described in both blog posts about him, he had never spoken of, or initiated, divorce, or behaved as if he weren't going forward, with the plan, to move us into permanent housing on base. I was appalled, at what turned out to be the only, apparent, reason Tom had done this. This old barracks, was walking distance, to his weather unit, on base, but the permanent housing was over, on the other side, of the base, and, the base shuttle came through there, but since most people had cars, to get around in, it was only at bus stops on the perimeter, of the permanent housing area; meaning more of a walk, and a farther overall distance from Tom's unit. He did have an old car, but it wasn't well-maintained, so, by the time I joined him, we were without any, usable vehicle. We had to, walk, ride on the base shuttle bus, or, call cabs, to get around.

Tom had no problem, spending hundreds of dollars, collecting comic books, but he wouldn't save it for a car. Peter Pan priorities. He did this to us, to me, because he was, selfish, lazy, and, dealt poorly, with the, adult, realities, of life. I was furious, with him, for this, and told him in no uncertain terms, that he had better get us in permanent housing, ASAP, or he could move back to the barracks he was living in before we remarried, which was also not close walking distance to his unit, on the base. Honestly, looking back, and taking all things, into consideration, with him, I think it's entirely possible, for who Tom is, that he may have remarried me just to get, himself, into the temporary housing barracks, set aside for families, which he could not have qualified for, as a single sergeant. He needed a military dependent, to be able to access that closer location to the weather station he worked in. Lazy man's commute. (Or, boy's, in his case.) Tom, also stood to benefit, financially, by marrying me, since military members receive a pay increase, as part of their cost-of-living and housing allowances, when they marry. Tom never acted like he loved me, or said that he loved me, either time we were married. He wasn't affectionate toward me. He never wanted sex with me. I felt really used and manipulated now.
He knew, I was serious, though, about him, solving, this housing situation, for us.

We moved into a spacious, newly-constructed, home on base, soon after I put my foot down about it. It was a two-bedroom so, the spare bedroom, Tom devoted to his beloved comic book collection, lovingly, sorting them, into stacks, according to their value to him. The only reason, that I knew, Tom was capable of being loving, was because I watched him, interacting with these pieces of paper, that made him smile and his heart flutter with excitement. I do not exaggerate this. As his wife, I was well aware that, in his, mind, and heart, I was no competition, for Superman, Batman, and all of the other superheroes who were portrayed in those pages that he fondled with such affection and enthusiasm. There came a day, in this, second, marriage, that Tom, finally, did, actually strike me. Physically hit me, in the face. I called a base social worker for help, not realizing that it wouldn't be considered as confidential counseling, and they would actually have him arrested by base police, and jailed for a short time. He never should have struck me; and as someone who has been abused, many times, in many ways, over the course of my lifetime, I am tired, of being told, and treated like, the protection of the perpetrators of violence, and wrongdoing, matters more, in the general, societal, scheme of things than my being mistreated, and sometimes, damaged, by that, in various ways. This idea is due to it being a man's world, when it's all said and done. Whether communicated implicitly, or explicitly, it is a horrible legacy, to leave women, who are treated this way, by the men; that they love. That being said-- that, IT IS NEVER OKAY!-- Tom only struck me directly this one time, and it was a slap more than a punch. He put me though alot, in our relationship, and two marriages; but physical abuse wasn't something that was going on, between Tom and I. He had pulled that knife on me, once, and struck a wine glass, out of my hand, causing it to shatter in the bathtub that I had been sitting in trying to destress from all my disappointments with him. But, he was not punching me, choking me, breaking any bones or things like that.

Tom was also, not a bully. Nevertheless, he reacted like any male abuser toward a woman they have mistreated, that they then get into trouble themselves for doing that to. Rather than be contrite, apologetic or conciliatory toward me, his reaction to, the base MPs, showing up, at the weather station, to, arrest him, and take him away to jail, in handcuffs, was to be, absolutely livid, toward me, when, we spoke, on the phone, while he was incarcerated. He, apparently, used his privilege, to call someone, from jail, not just to let me know where he was, but to tell me how mad he was. Not, at himself, for hitting me, but, at me, because of his being in trouble, now, because, he had hit me. Men. I am sitting here, shaking my head, in disgust, and disbelief, at how, convoluted, their thinking is, in terms of, how women should be treated by them. Additionally insulting, in any conversations that I had with his formerly, pleasant-toward-me, commander, following this incident, I received cold, and uncooperative, communication from this man. A total reversal of his cordiality toward me, prior to this happening. Even his commander turned against me, now, after raving to me, previously, that the homemade pumpkin pie I had baked for a visit he had made to the base unit was the best he had ever had. All niceties, and smiles, toward me, until, the shit hit the fan, DUE TO TOM'S BEHAVIOR. I decided to leave Tom and go back to Omaha, because, not only my husband, was blaming me, for this happening, but the small Air Force unit, banded together, against me, as the gossip, about it-- and Tom's version, as the victim, here-- was told, among them. However, I wasn't getting any cooperation, from anyone, including, Tom, to be able to accomplish this, even though, he had been out of jail for awhile, now. I was being totally, and unfairly, ostracized. It really pissed me off. I finally felt that I had no choice, but to call 'the mother ship', Air Force Global Weather Central, at Offutt Air Force Base, back in Omaha, and tell them, the situation. They, were not happy, with Tom, his commander, or anyone else, involved, who were, refusing, to provide assistance, for me, to move, back to Omaha. Tom got extra pay, for being married, but I had NO access to ANY money, in the second marriage. I only did in the first marriage, because I was also legally responsible for his debts, when we'd married, which, he hadn't even told me he had, or that, virtually all of them were, delinquent, or in Collections, or somewhere, along that spectrum, of legal liability.

In the first marriage, I took over his finances, to solve all of that, and save his Air Force career. He had let me do that, because, he had NEEDED me to do that. This was now. Global Weather, told them that, Tom, had to provide me with dependent support, and that the unit needed to offer me assistance, with my moving back to Omaha. The next time I talked with Tom's commander after he had received these directives (that were nothing unusual; and he knew, on his own, I was entitled to, without my finally having to call AFGWC to get their help; but he was just being a prick), I could hear him literally clenching his teeth through every word, he spoke, as he suddenly offered help and cooperation, according to the regulations. It isn't a good idea to wrong me, abuse me, or piss me off, in any way, shape, or form. I weigh things out, and see more than I say about things; and, I bide my time. But when, I have-- finally-- had, ENOUGH, of someone's BULLSHIT, and my righteous indignation, rises up, to a boiling point, in me, I DO TAKE ACTION. Even if it's not 'pretty', or 'ladylike'. God, is on my side, in such situations, and I invite His wrath about it, to be made known, as well. He doesn't take kindly to people mistreating His children. You can BE SURE OF THAT. If you AREN'T sure of that, trust me-- He will MAKE you a BELIEVER. God is a God of RIGHTEOUSNESS and He knows it all. Some people, describe this, as 'KARMA'. Whatever, you choose to call it, it works!
  



I went back to dancing in an Omaha nightclub, but this time I didn't bother to get a divorce from Tom. I paid for our first one; I figured it was HIS turn, now. He got orders to go to the Middle East, but he was such a coward, that he did everything he could think of, to screw up; enough, that (he thought) they wouldn't send him. But, it seemed that the Air Force was pretty tired of babysitting Tom, during those years that it wasn't MY JOB to DO THAT, and perhaps, they even thought that this would help him to mature (good luck with that!), but I doubt that it would; or did. I actually met a military guy in the club one night, and we got to talking about his training troops, to go overseas, to the Middle East conflict zones. I told him about Tom, and--  he remembered him!-- out of all the hundreds of guys he had to deal with in that job. The reason he did, was because he kept having to discipline Tom, for being uncooperative and problematic, during that training. He said that he had seen alot of, immaturity, in Tom, but that, he DID MAKE SURE that, TOM WENT, in spite of all that. Because, I didn't initiate our second divorce, but I simply went on with my life, while enjoying, the full military dependent benefits-- which I figured, I had more than earned, being, married to this boy-- Tom's mother did it, for him, while he was overseas. She, was afraid that, he might, be killed, over there, and I was, still, his legal spouse, which entitled me to certain things. I didn't resist it, or delay it, when, she, started the process. The divorce papers got served, on me, at my apartment, and I, always, signed them, and, sent them back, as soon, as they came. In the meantime, I tried, a few times, to send care packages to Tom just to help him deal better with his intense dislike of having to be there. I knew it had to be hard for someone like him to handle. He always put, RETURN TO SENDER on it, so they came back to me, unopened. So, I re-sent them to ANY SERVICEMEMBER, and got several very nice letters of appreciation from servicemen, for those boxes. I had sent Tom NICE things, so they were REALLY ENJOYED, by the OTHERS that I re-sent them to, over there. The second divorce, eventually, came through. I went on with my life in Omaha. We didn't keep in touch. Tom, was done, with me, and I was done, with Tom. I had done so much for him, and I had received so little back from him. He wasn't worth it. I didn't want to be a boy's mother. Not, as, his wife!

* https://www.myersbriggs.org/my-mbti-personality-type/mbti-basics/the-16-mbti-types.htm?bhcp=1

** mysticism - belief that union with or absorption into the Deity or the absolute, or the spiritual apprehension  of knowledge  inaccessible  to the intellect, may be attained through contemplation and self-surrender. [Also reference my blog post:  https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2019/03/trying-to-describe-what-dark-night-of_20.html.] Samantha Vincenty provides another good resource to learn more about mystics in 'Signs You Might Be A Mystic'. The link to her post is https://www.oprahdaily.com/life/a27614027/what-is-a-mystic/ Here is a quote, from that:  "Who can be a mystic?  According to Starr, a mystic can be a bartender or a bus driver or a schoolteacher or a journalist—it's got nothing to do with your external life  and everything  to do with  internal  experience. 'A mystic is an ordinary person  who does ordinary things  and experiences these moments of profound  union with  The Source',  Starr says." I assert, based on my own life experience, that the list of 'ordinary people' even includes a nightclub dancer. Me.

*** rhema - a spoken Word from God imparted by His Holy Spirit, which is often more specific to the individual(s), it is given to, compared to, the Logos Word, of God, which is His scripture, His written Word, that is given to everyone on Earth.

**** 'Here are 10 reasons most people can’t handle an empath', by Lachlan Brown  https://ideapod.com/10-reasons-men-cant-handle-empath/ ; '10 Reasons Why It's So Difficult For An Empath To Get Into A Serious Relationship' by Brianna Wiest https://thoughtcatalog.com/brianna-wiest/2017/10/10-reasons-why-its-so-difficult-for-an-empath-to-get-into-a-serious-relationship/; 'Why  Many  Empaths Struggle       To       Hold       Down       Relationships'       by       Alex       Myles:  https://www.elephantjournal.com/2018/06/why-many-empaths-struggle-to-hold-down-relationships/ "They  tend  to  attract people who  want  to be   saved,  not  people who  want  to be  loved.  The classic relationship issue that an empath will face is  the one  they have  with a  narcissist – people who have  a deep desire to help others  are magnets  for people who  want to just receive their light, and not give anything back.";  "Being intimately involved with someone can lead empaths to burn out,  as in relationships  they are known to  give far more  of  themselves than they should give. If there isn’t an equal energy exchange, they often become emotionally depleted. There are many reasons for relationships starting or ending. However, when it involves an empath, the chances of them working out long-term seem to be far lower, which is  part of  the reason  a lot of empaths are introverts who choose to stay single. . . . It is common  for empaths  to become so invested in their  partner’s  well-being  that they  neglect  taking  care  of themselves. . . . risking  their  own  emotional,  mental,  or  physical  health. . . . It  is  imperative empaths recognise that  their compassion  and nurturing abilities  can sometimes lead to  self-harm, because  as the saying goes,  'You can’t  drink from  an empty cup.'  It is vital that empaths replenish themselves  before they pour their energy into anyone else."