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.

                                 

Memorabilia, From The Men I Married . . .

I FINALLY finished sorting all of the old papers and pictures and other memorabilia that, together, tell the story of my life, thus far. It took weeks, to do this, and as it was something that I simply couldn't put off any longer, or avoid altogether, I kept at it, until it was done. I started to loathe this, tedious, time-consuming, chore. At times it was emotionally excruciating to have to handle and see every single item, that carried me back to a past that had been largely painful for me. By the time it was finished, I had organized it all into categories. I'm just beginning to write this blog post, at 8:00 in the evening, the day before the one that I have promised my readers that I will publish a post online. Doing what I tell people that I will do, is a very important thing to me. Because of the time crunch, I am limiting this post, to cover only the things about my marriages, that I set aside to share with you here.

In future posts, I will share some of my creative writing that I haven't included, in previous posts, and some things about my family of origin, as well as more things from my dancer days. For whatever reason I have not had a shortage of men who have tried their best to get into my life, and body, along the way, but I just sighed deeply, as I typed that, because it has been a matter of, quantity over quality, and I so deeply desired to know what a truly loving relationship would be like, because I have never had that in my life. Just poor substitutions that, more often than not, left me much worse off for having had them. It is not looking likely that I will ever experience that. My heart has never been an easy one to unlock. Even when I was growing up, and began 'going steady', in elementary school, I resisted boys trying to kiss me, because, even way back then, I felt that, such things should be saved, for someone special. I just sighed, deeply, again. From the time I was only 18 and my half-first-cousin, who was 9 years older than I was, sexually assaulted me and I married him then, because I felt that I was 'damaged goods', from that point on, and had no choice, my 'love life' has been anything but loving. It is a true tragedy for me. It is what it is.  I know of women who have never even been asked out on a date, and have never been married, and honestly, I think they're better off, than me. I was shocked to come across a variety of men's 'love letters' to me, from the men that I did marry, as well as several that I could not even recall meeting! They just didn't capture my heart. Letters that I include in these posts will be verbatim. I set aside a few representative ones for this. There are, actually, alot more of the letters like that to me. I wondered, when I saw them, why I'd even saved them at all. I suppose it might have been because they were saying I was someone special to them, someone that they loved, or, thought that, they could love, and it left me feeling hopeful that, at some point, I would feel the same way about one of them; which never happened. The closest I ever came to finding 'true love' with any man was with my second husband, Jim-- the man that I wrote several blog posts about as being 'the one man that I will love forever'. Even so, his egoism was something that I couldn't compete with, either in, his affections, or his agenda, and was a big factor in my decision to divorce him, because of the behaviors that it drove him to do. The bottom line is that, he put himself first, above all else, almost all the time, as far as, his relationship with me, went. Our priorities in life were not compatible.

The blog posts that I wrote about my first marriage, to the first, of two Jims, are: https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2019/05/nothing-happens-in-vacuum-why-i-dropped_29.html and https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2019/06/my-first-marriage-i-grew-to-like-him-as.html

I don't have the letter that he wrote me our first Christmas together, after we had moved from North Carolina to Fresno, California, but he took this picture of me as I read it, on Christmas morning. I was only 18, and a bride, to a man who was so closely related to me by blood that some states wouldn't even allow our marriage legally. North Carolina, where we were, both, from, just barely did. I don't look at all happy or in love, in this photo, because I wasn't those things, although we had only been married on December 12, 1974; less than 2 weeks prior to this picture. I feel like my life went off course as far as me ever finding, and being with, a man that I could really love, and want to be with, because this cousin 'took me', as his own, when he never should have. Mutual relatives had asked him to look after me when I went away from home to college, in the much larger city that he lived in. I was still very naive at 18, and had not been properly prepared, by my parents, for things that I would encounter out in the world. My family was not communicative, or supportive, throughout my upbringing. I had no one there for me but this man. I was love-starved by the time I got there, and he took full advantage of that fact.

The second Jim, and my second husband, is described in, several, posts, on: June 26, 2019, July 11, 2019, July 25, 2019, August 8, 2019, August 15, 2019, April 3, 2019, and August 28, 2019. Our, romantic, relationship, while we were in the U.S. Air Force, was, to this day, the closest thing I've ever had to experiencing mutual love with a man. Even so, outside of the fact that, he was the best sexual partner  I have EVER had, the relationship was never built on a solid foundation of mutual beliefs and priorities. Jim was ALWAYS out for himself, first and foremost (except for in the sack having sex, where he was, wonderfully, giving, and spoiled me for any other, because of that). We had alot of fun together, while we were stationed at Keesler Air Force Base, in Biloxi, Mississippi. But, Jim loved being the center of attention no matter who or what else was in the picture, and his values could not be discerned by his behaviors. He was driven to get other peoples' approval, and admiration, causing him to lose more and more of mine, until I did not even want to be around him anymore by the time I divorced him. We had opposing outlooks on life. We were insatiably hot for one another, in bed, but outside of that he was  a turn off to me, and I wasn't what he wanted or felt he needed, in a wife, since I was annoyed at his focus on appearances above all else. I don't care what people think of me in the way that he was consumed by it. He did whatever it took to be  well-liked and universally popular. I could care less if anyone likes me unless they like me for who I actually am. I am honest and sincere, and prefer to keep things real, in my relationships with people. The years that I was a dancer, I had to be a fantasy, for the men coming into the nightclubs. That is what we were paid to do. They didn't come in there, and pay alot of money for watered-down drinks, to see any woman that was not like their dreams, and desires. I ended up, losing myself, along the way, and compromising values, that meant alot to me. I had not looked through these old papers and pictures for a while, and didn't even remember, that Jim had actually written me, several, affectionate, cards and letters, in the course of our relationship. I don't know why it is, I didn't think of him that way (although when I do think about him it tends to be remembering how great he was in bed!), but he wrote me the following letter while we were, basically, living together, 99% of the time, in his apartment, off base. It was in an envelope that is yellowed with age. He wrote it to me in 1980 (42 years ago!) with "Debbie Sq[uadron] 11" on it.

                                                     Here is that letter of Jim's to me:            

Hey honey,

      I miss you! I just thought I'd drop you a line to tell you that I love you!! After we got cut off this afternoon, I went for a walk on the beach. I did alot of thinking and prayed for while. I asked God to help me decide what to do. He told me that the only way to make it is to be happy and enjoy the good times and struggle thru the hard times. If you love someone, He said, you will make it through. I told him this was a hard time, but that I loved you and wanted to work through it. He told me you love me. Anyway, I could go on but I believe that if we really do love each other, like we do, then we are depriving ourselves not to let us love each other. 

     When you leave this base, you may not be far away, and I can come see you. I know you are scared about being hurt when you leave and also, about getting married. You're not alone!! I'm also scared! But I know I love you and that I will be at your base when I leave here! (If you want me!) I also will not guarantee that we would get married but because I love you so much, I would want to take the chance! Maybe we would!

     One of the main things I love about you are your way we communicate, the way we can understand each other, and most important the way you can accept me the way I am. I feel the same way! Although we might be away from each other for a little while, our personalities won't change. We will still share these 3 traits between us. With that, I think we could work out anything that comes between us. If you don't believe that, look at past history! We've done it on a number of occasions! Give it a chance, and it will happen again!

     Well, that's what I've been thinking about! I'm going to come over and give this to you soon. Cross my fingers!!!! I love you so much!!

                                                                          Jim

                                                                       XXXX

                                                                      OOOO

                                                                       XXXX

[NOTE: If you haven't read the blog posts about him, we did get married, but it was after I ended up pregnant after telling him I was no longer on birth control because I had been away from him, for some time, at another Air Force base. I didn't have sex with anyone but him while I was in the Air Force. He wanted me though, and said, he would 'pull out', but didn't, and I ended up pregnant. I did not feel truly wanted, by him, because of that. We did not want the same things  in life and our goals, and values, were pulling us in different directions. It would not have worked, with us, long term, because only one or the other would want whichever direction, we went in, together.  I set him free, divorcing him, and he followed his path, that he had wanted for his life, had a very successful Air Force career, and married a wonderful woman, who became my son's, second, mother. He was a young 2nd Lieutenant not long out of college when he wrote the letter.]

I found a letter that I wrote to our son, Jay, on August 6, 1984, that I don't think  I ever sent to him. It shows my heart, at that time, when he was not quite three:

Dear Jay, darling son,

      I'm hoping this letter will reach you somehow-- I haven't intruded on Jim and Linnea's lives & whereabouts, but I don't think all of you would still be in Ohio by now. I just have wanted so much to reach out to you and tell you, hoping you'll believe me, how very much I love and adore you; how much I miss you. I'm crying as I write this because frankly this whole situation has been agony for me. Jim & Linnea are expecting a 2nd child in the family, and I pray all 4 of you will be healthy and close, Christian and loving, together. When that new child reaches 13 months, perhaps Linnea can imagine more fully for a moment what it was like for me to have you leave my life [at that age]. I love you so! I have been pleased for you, tho, feeling that they love you & take care of you. I believe I was a good and loving parent to you, too, son, only I didn't have the emotional, supportive, or financial resources to give you all I wanted you to have in life. I hope you never even contemplate "rejection" as a motive for my letting you go. I love no one as I love you, & never will.

      Linnea was kind enough to send photos of you to your grandparents in Hickory, N.C. They were gratified, as was I, when one was forwarded to me. I've had to not cling to it because it is small and fragile, & I want it always. You are such an attractive, intelligent, happy, life-loving little boy, Jay! I hope life-- as you grow up and learn its realities-- does not destroy these assets you possess or wear you down or turn you from faith in God. I must proclaim to you that God has gotten me through the pain, heartache, & loss-- tho on a struggling, day-by-day basis. He has provided for me, protected me, loved me all these days that I feel no love. How I miss your active love for me! How close we once were, little one, & how sweet and strong the bond!

     I give Jim & Linnea full credit for the fine job they seem to be doing with you. I pray for you all. I don't mean to lessen all they're doing for you as parents, but I don't think they'll mind me writing this just to say to you-- out of the bond I'll always feel with you as the child I wanted & carried & loved-- 

                                                                              - Mommy loves you, Jay!

[NOTE: Linnea's child she was carrying resulted in a stillborn birth, although they adopted a girl, later on, so there still ended up being four of them in their home.]

I apologize for the poor quality of the photographs in this post. They're old photos that I had to photograph using my flip phone's (not a smart phone) camera, while holding them in my hand, because I do not have a way to scan them in, etc. Even though they are not perfectly clear, I think you will still be able to see the essence of them, for the purposes that they are included here. These are 'documentation'.

This photo was taken by me on the morning that I was leaving my baby boy, Jay, with his father, Jim, and soon-to-be-stepmother, Linnea, to raise together, in a 2-parent home, because it was, the best way, to give Jay the best life, that I could. He was only 13 months old. I taught him to call Linnea "Mommy" before I left, so he would be bonded to her and not traumatized by my sudden absence from him. It was one of the hardest and most heartbreaking things that I've ever had to do.

Jay was born in November, so not long before I transferred his custody to Jim and Linnea, I took him to the mall to see Santa, when he was one year old. But, while we waited, in the long line, Jay fell asleep. Rather than wake him, I gently laid my sleeping child on Santa's lap, and this picture captures that, precious, moment. It was far better than any picture I've seen of children smiling-- or shrieking-- there.

[NOTE: The pregnancy was unplanned and unwanted, but when I found out I was pregnant, I could not abort him, despite, my mother, and Jim, telling me, to do it. He was born out of the love that I felt for and with his father. He was us together.]

https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2019/04/if-you-love-someone-set-them-free.html and https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2019/08/my-sons-other-mother-was-heaven-sent.html are the two main blog posts about my son Jay, although he is spoken of in other posts, as well.  He turned 41 years old, this month, so, my 'baby', is now, a middle-aged man! Time goes by so fast.

Linnea, my son's stepmother, who we never referred to that way but only as Jay's other mother, and then, as his primary "Mommy", was very good about letting me know how Jay was doing as he was growing up. She wrote me lots of letters, and sent me photos of Jay, and of their family-- which was a blessing, to see how well it was going for them, but also heartbreaking for me, because I never found that, for myself, in my life, to this day. I am sharing a letter from Linnea here, because it is a good representation of how she was, with me, Jay's birthmother, and if you can imagine putting yourself in my place in this situation, you may be able to see how hard it was on me, as I read some of what she said to me. I was good about staying out of their lives and out of their way, for the most part, and Linnea and I were on good, friendly, terms, the large majority (although, not all) of the time. I will type out exactly what she said to me, in the letter, but skip the parts that are not relevant, but are more general, such as, her observations about the weather:

                                                                                                         Aug 29

Dear Deb,

       Received your letter the other day and was sorry to hear about your pending divorce but I'm sure you have given it much thought and deliberation and found it to be the best solution. Now you must concentrate on you- putting your life back on a meaningful track.

      We have been trying to find out where our next assignment will take us. So far the possibilities are Maxwell AFB Montgomery Alabama, Hanscom AFB Boston, MA and Mons, Belgium. I suppose we won't know anything for several months and knowing the Air Force it could be anywhere.

      You asked how I felt about your relationship with Jay. I appreciate it is a difficult thing for you to settle in your heart and mind. Personally I appreciate your not playing an active role and allowing me to be the 'mother' to Jay. It is important for Jay to have the security of one mother and as we have discussed many times before as he becomes older and is able to understand love, marriage and divorce we will tell him about your relationship to him. Jay is a very sensitive child and becomes hurt easily. I would never suggest telling him before he is mature enough to think rationally and understand emotions. I know it must be hard to stand back- but it is for Jay's benefit that it must be that way. 

      Well I must close this letter now and get my children some breakfast and ready to go grocery shopping before the store is too crowded.

                                                                            Love

                                                                            Linnea, Jay, 

                                                                            Jim & Krista

Here is another letter from Linnea to me (again, just the relevant parts):

Jay goes to church school every Sunday. He is learning to sing "Jesus Loves Me". He must like church because he sometimes will ask if he can go to church. Jay's school is also a function of the Evangelical church and they tell them Bible stories and sing biblical songs, too.

      Jay is really into "kiss" and "hug". He will tell Jim "Kiss Mommy" or "Hug Mommy". He also likes to do some of that himself, not only with Mommy and Daddy but Erika, Nichole, Kiki, & Jennifer from school. We have a 2 year old 'lover' on our hands. 

                                                                          Linnea, Jim & Jay

I write poetry, among other things (such as this blog), but I got that trait from my mother, whose own poetry I read, from the time I was just a little girl. She, was a school  teacher, for much of my childhood, so teaching us to read at a young age, and providing us with plenty of books, caused me to become an avid reader, and, very, verbal. When, my son, Jay, was born, my mother surprised me, by writing a poem in Jay's honor. It is included in this post. I don't think my son ever knew his grandmother did that, for him. It will be memorialized, in this post, now, however.

A note from: Doris Robinson

                                                                         Sunday, Nov 15, 1981

[Jay]

The thread of life has woven us together

head and heart-

Of everything that makes me Me, you have 

become a part!

Not long ago- yet fifty years- I was the

size of you.

And soon- it seemed so rapidly- your Mom

was cradled too!

Today- a feeling so profound- through you

we're born again-

New hopes, new dreams, new happiness-

Some moments filled with pain.

Your busy hands, unfolding mind, your sharp

inquiring eye

Will strengthen and add to the threads we're

weaving, you and I.

[NOTE:  My mother was 25, when she had me, and I was 25, when I had Jay, yet she refused to come to Omaha, following Jay's birth, while I recovered some, and her reason she gave me was that: I forced her to be a grandmother too soon and she did not want to come help me because, she really resented me, for that. She was serious, too. She did, finally, agree to come, but not before, totally, stressing me out, with all of the criticism about my pregnancy and back and forth about it.]

I found some handwritten pages from 1982 where I journaled some of what I was thinking and feeling, as I prepared to transfer Jay's custody to Jim, and to Linnea:

                                                                                       December 15, 1982

      As we were leaving . . . a wind blew several dead, brown leaves in a circular whirlwind . . . around and around. Jay stared in delight and amazement . . . 

      I find myself savoring, and holding tightly to, these special little moments with my infant son. . . . I sat down beside Jay on the sofa. He was just awakening from napping there, & he crawled to me and hugged my knees, lying his head upon my lap. He lay there quietly, & still, & I stroked his long, blond curls. . . . when I'm employed, he will stay here with Jim and Linnea . . . to have a mother and a father, as well as the financial and emotional security I simply was not able to afford him. I will move out, and miss him so terribly (the tears in my eyes as I write this attest to that); yet I feel so much better about his overall lifestyle and future, now, tho I cannot guarantee his future with them anymore than I could have guaranteed him I would've married someone someday & been able to provide him with more. . . .

     He's so young now-- God, he's exactly 13 months today-- he probably won't even really remember our year together. . . . Tonight, I held Jay so tight. . . . I just said to Jay, . . . "Mommy loves you, Jay. Jesus loves you, too. Mommy won't be with you alot longer now, but-- please, God-- know that Jesus will always be there to watch over you for Mommy. You are too young for me to explain everything, but I've tried to get you a better future." . . .

     I'm trying to help him make the transition from having me to my not being there always, and from me to Linnea as his Mom. I'm trying to do it in a healthy psychological manner, to be clear and impartial enough about it not to cling to Jay or show him my hurt and despair as we part . . . . He has enough in his little life to cope with. I feel good about Jay's future, & frankly I'm relieved Jim's marrying such a nice & decent lady as Linnea so I can feel good about giving them custody of Jay. . . . Sometimes others think I'm shallow, or I don't care, because I don't show a reaction to a situation. I feel alot, and very deeply, but I don't always show it-- especially if for me it's a very private emotion. 

     Don't think for a minute I don't hurt, tho, over leaving Jay or any of this in my life. . . . I've hurt. ALOT. I've hurt so pervasively & for so long now that I don't even feel the pain anymore & yet I know it's there. In other words, I'm numb. It was a body-&-mind defense mechanism because I really couldn't take all that pain anymore. Damn! I'd hoped for a nervous breakdown from it all so I could escape from the realities awhile. I guess I'm stronger-- & more of a realist, more practical, more a survivor-- than even I thought. 

                                                                                     Jan. 8, '83

I . . . have so many thoughts & feelings in me I haven't slept at all. . . . I'll sleep here at Jim's again tonight after work and move my things from here tomorrow. . . Hopefully my life will mellow out some now, tho, & I can begin to heal some hurts. 

God willing.

                                                                                    Jan. 23, 1983

Jay came to visit me today. Since I moved out of Jim's, I'd only seen Jay one other time, over at Jim's (and Linnea's) for about an hour. . . . I wanted to . . . savor Jay to myself. We then "came home" to my apartment. . . . he felt strange in the new apartment, and I explained to him that this was Mommy's house but he couldn't live here with me, as he seemed to think it was his new house, too. . . . When Jim and Linnea came to pick Jay up, Jay did not laugh and get all happy & excited like he did when I was at their door. He saw them and made a little "panic" noise. . . . He looked up at me quickly like, "They're not here to take me away, are they?" Linnea picked Jay up & he tried to reach out to me & get to my arms. He wanted to stay with me . . . he didn't want to leave me. . . . It hurt so badly, too, as I wanted to keep him with me, & it's so obvious he doesn't understand what's happened to his world, why Mommy isn't with him and him with me, anymore. . . . I cried, in the parking lot . . . as they drove off with Jay, with my baby, my son . . . I had a bad night, tossing & turning & feeling like part of me dies each time . . . . God be with me, & with my precious son, Jay. May we always have our love for one another in a world that loves so little.

I wrote a blog post about a much older woman than I was named Vivian Gulleen, who was a godly woman, and missionary for much of her life, and never married, because she said, she never met a man who would love her, the way her parents had loved one another, and with that as her example she simply refused to settle for less. (I did settle for, much, less than I wanted, needed, and deserved when I married the men that I did, and alot of misery came from my doing that. Vivian's included in this post because of a note she wrote to me, regarding my son, Jay. I will share the words of that, here, but the link below is also to my post about her.  https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2019/08/a-lesson-to-younger-woman-from-older.html 

                                                                                   April 17, 1984

My dear Debbie:-

     I just want you to know that my heart went out to you yesterday and I know your heart ached because you dearly love that son of yours. But I pray God will give you the necessary strength from day to day to continue to trust and follow your Savior and to be faithful in your work. I was so glad to hear you say you are doing your very best and determined to carry on. . . . I do daily pray for you and I do feel God is answering- we may think slowly but in His perfect timing. . . .

                                                                                 Much love,

                                                                                 Vivian

Tom, my third husband, wrote the most, and longest, letters to me. I am not sure why, but the two abusive husbands, my last two of the four, often expressed their love for me in writing, but regularly mistreated me, in between those declarations of undying love, for me. They, are also the two that I met in the nightclubs, that I worked in as a dancer. I met them both in the Backdoor Lounge. Here are some of the excerpts from letters that Tom wrote to me. He's the only one I married twice. https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2020/12/the-boy-from-brooklyn-that-i-married.html  https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2021/12/i-married-my-third-husband-two-times.html 

[NOTE: I went by my dancer name, Stevie, during my marriages to Tom and Mark even though, I quit dancing, when I got married. They had met me in the club, as Stevie, so it just felt natural to them to call me that. I signed any legal documents and such with my, legal, name, Deborah, though, so they both knew what it was.]

Stevie,

     The last time I talked to you, I said I would write to you & tell you what's been happening to me. I'm not having a good time right now because all sorts of things have blown up in my face, and I'm having a very difficult time coping.

     At one time you told me that I was trying to self-destruct. Because of my pride I refused to listen to you & chose to do things on my own, thinking that I can handle anything. Well, I was wrong. . . . I had some additional duties taken away from me at work because I was not performing those duties as well as I should. I've also had a little trouble performing my job. I increasingly find myself getting so frustrated that I feel like exploding. Things got so bad for me that I have lost my assignment to England. I don't blame anyone but myself. Because of all these things happening to me I am forced to accept the fact that I can not continue to follow this road that I have laid, so I have made an appointment at Mental Health to try to learn what is wrong with me. The only thing I can tell you right now is that for some unknown reason I'm afraid to be placed in a position of authority. . . It also explains why I would not take more of a leadership role in our marriage, & also why my work has suffered. . . .

                                                                                       Take care

                                                                                        Tom

This is part of another letter that he sent to me. These letters seem to be from his tour(s) of duty overseas. Tom was an Air Force sergeant and a weather forecaster.

     Thank you ever so much for all the things that you have sent me, they mean so much to me. I want to take one of your dancer pictures (the large one you sent me) and put it in a frame to place on my dresser, next to the picture of the two of us, but I thought I should get your permission first. It's a wonderful picture because it shows just how truly beautiful you are. It also shows how talented you are, the costume looks great. . . . I wish that I could kiss you in person, that would be much more satisfying, but until that time comes, this will do. 

    I miss you terribly right now. Tears come to my eyes now when I think of how much you love me, because I don't think I deserve your love after all the vicious things I've done to you. I pray that somehow I can make it up to you. Please, take very good care of yourself, your extremely precious to me. 

                                  

                                                      With all my deepest love and affection

                                                                                                                                                                              TJ

                                                                                                 3 July 87

[This is from Tom, too. It is excerpts from an extremely long letter he sent me.]

Dearest Stevie,

            The only drawback to this job is that you're not here with me. I miss you terribly. Some days I miss you so much, I hurt inside. Just last night, as I was saying a prayer for your safety, tears came to my eyes, and I was choked up for a little while. I even took out your picture which I keep with me in my wallet, and gave you a kiss. If you've recently felt something like a soft kiss on your cheek or lips, that was from me. 

            I sit back and watch how the GI's treat the girls and become very sad because it shows me just how badly I must have treated you at times. I wish there was some way I can correct all the atrocious things I've done to you. 

                                                                                                                      

Tom mistreated me at times, as he says himself, in the letters he sent to me, and that included some physical violence against me, despite saying how he loved me. My fourth, and final husband, Mark, was-- by far-- the worst of them all. I am not even tempted to marry again, after-- barely-- surviving that tormenting hell, that was our marriage. Two blog posts describe him. The one that is specifically about him is:  https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2022/04/the-devils-in-details-my-marriage-to.html and the second half of the following one is also about him; the scary story, not the first part that's a funny story about Tom. https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2019/03/two-memories-i-have-from-my-marriage.html                                                                                            

Mark also liked to leave me 'love notes' around the house for me to find, but his words, he put in writing, were the complete opposite, of the horrible and hateful things he regularly said, to my face. Because of that, abusive, relationship, with him, I have always said, to people, since then, that, you can tell, who has never been abused, and who has been, by how they react, when you say that, you are   a domestic abuse survivor. If they respond with, widened eyes, and say, aghast, "You mean, . . . he HIT you?!?", they have never been abused, because, anyone who has been, knows that, if you live through it, the casts come off and stitches come out, but it is the words, the, caustic, comments, that get down, deep, into your spirit, and lodge themselves there, to reverberate, within you, causing pain for a long time afterward; if one can even ever really completely recover from it, at all. I know that I've never fully recovered from going through that, literal, hell on earth, from somebody who was supposed to love me-- and, continually, said, that he did love me, in between, the ever-increasing cycles of verbal attack, and physical assault, that sent me to the Emergency Room at times. That is not love.

Here is just one example, of the many 'love letters' that Mark would write to me:

I covered the last name for privacy purposes. That is the white spot on the page.

Good day  Stevie  You have my heart totally But I'm making room for Jesus too

I love you so much! Your love for me gives me a feeling that I can not put into words. You are the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth. You are so intelligent, wise, trusting and loveable. You could have fallen in love with someone else, but I am thanking God, that he allowed you to fall in love with me. I am very blessed by God for that and thank him daily. I walked to pay the cable bill I'll be back soon. I love you Stevie [NOTE: I covered the last name]     Mark

I wrote a note to myself, at the top, of a copy, of this same letter (above) saying:

One day he says he loves me, & wants our marriage to work out; the next day he's cold and threatens divorce-- saying it's what I want (I haven't been to any lawyer!), & back & forth until I can't take it anymore-- there's no stability in that.

Once, while I was cowering down on the floor in a tight ball, to try to minimize his assault on me, while he stood over me, screaming at me, he said to me, "I can do whatever I want to you, because you don't want another divorce!" That, was one, of many, cruel things, he said-- and did-- to me, during that marriage-from-hell. I was a smiling, happy, person, before he came into my life. Here are some photos, from that-- living nightmare-- time of my life, that clearly show how 'beat down' a domestic violence abuse victim gets in the draining and dysfunctional relationship, with someone who conned their victim, and then does this hellish 'bait and switch' after they have lured in their prey, who just wanted to be loved, not, nearly killed, and in some ways is left damaged for life if they're lucky enough to live through it.

This was what I looked like just before I met Mark. I was still a dancer at the club but I was going out of town for a Nora Lam Ministry event that she instructed her staff to personally invite me to, because I had been leading dancers to Christ and had taken a group of them to see the movie about Nora's life when it came out. I was slain in the spirit, for the one and only time that has happened to me, so far, in that meeting in Fremont, Nebraska. Nora, who is a very small lady, touched my forehead with one little fingertip as she stood in front of me while I was in line for prayer, and down I went! I had often wondered, if being 'slain in the spirit', was a real thing, and because of how it happened for me, that night, I knew that it was.  She heard about me because 'Glitter', one of the dancers that I had witnessed to, 

and taken to see 'China Cry', was so moved by the movie, that she wrote to Nora Lam. Afraid she would get discouraged by getting a standard ministry response, I added my own cover letter to Glitter's letter, explaining Glitter's youth and fragile, new, faith, asking the ministry to encourage her, with at least a handwritten note. I was sent a ticket to the ministry event, because of it, which I had not expected.

This picture doesn't really convey what is actually going on here, unless you have the details: I was sitting, with Mark, in a restaurant booth, and all I could eat was little spoonfuls of liquid that I was, barely, able get into my mouth, by tipping the spoon and letting it slide in. My eyes are also showing the pain I was in from this. What caused me to be in this condition? Mark had struck me in the head, so hard that I could barely open my jaw for several days. The ER doctor told me if he had hit me JUST A QUARTER OF A INCH closer to my temple than he did that it would probably have killed me. I got chills, down my spine, when, I heard him say that.

                                                                                                     

When his abuse of me culminated in his punching my eyeglasses into my face as I was getting ready to go to church-- with him-- for a midweek service (and we had not been conversing or arguing or anything at all, before he terrified me by simply walking up to me in the hallway of the house, and punching me, that way, with no purpose or provocation), it was the last straw for me. He could have blinded me. I fled in the car, and went to the Emergency Room, at the Air Force base hospital. I told the ER doctor that those 'slips' and 'falls' and 'clumsiness-caused' injuries, I'd been treated for, were all, actually, domestic violence assaults, and that I was not covering for Mark anymore. Even my pastor had told me that I should continue to keep silent about it, to protect Mark's career, in the military! I left Mark, and, that church. My right eyebrow, still, to this day, does not fully grow in, above, my right eye, where I had to have several stitches. There is a shadow across the right side of my face in the photo, but there is a stream of bright red blood coming from my right eye that you should, still, be able to see. This photo, and the one beneath it, document a little of the domestic abuse, that I went through, in my last marriage. Mark was arrested for this assault on me, and I went into hiding after moving out, because he had violated the Protection Orders, that, I had taken out, against him.

   

The bruise on my arm is a defensive wound, that I got from trying to block more blows by Mark after he had punched my glasses into my face totally unprovoked. Another bruise on my arm from the attack's partially covered by my shirt sleeve.

If you scroll back up, to the photo of me, that was taken, just before, I met Mark, when I was going to the ministry event that Nora Lam invited me to as her guest,
and then scroll back down to the photo, just below here, you can, visibly, see, the effect, of an abusive man, on a woman, who just wanted to love, and be loved, in this life. It is a travesty and a tragedy. It comes from the pit of hell. >sigh< EVIL. How Mark could have no, real, or lasting, remorse, or repentance, for doing this, I cannot even comprehend. He took, a happy, confident, whole, woman, conned her into loving him, and rewarded her by doing his best to literally destroy her. He did his best to break me, and I was eventually shattered by him, into a million pieces, of heartbreak, and hopelessness. The picture, below, is me after he beat my smile off of me, and wore me down with distress until there was no more joy left in me. It's the photograph of a very unhappy person. It took me 5 years after this ended for me to simply smile again. That, is a huge reason why, my joyfulness, laughter, and smile are so important, to me, now, and I do all I can to protect those things, as well as protect myself, from anyone, and anything, that tries to bring me down, or feels abusive to me, in any way. I shut down in protective mode around anyone that threatens my peace or my happiness in any way, shape, or form. If I look like this photo to you then you have done something to mistreat me or disrespect me.

It is ironic, that a woman who has had, so many, men, say that, they LOVE me, is not in a loving relationship with anyone, and prefers staying single, to what it was like being married. I shared some photos and letters and such from my marriages in this post. In future posts, starting with the next one in December, God willing, I

will share other categories of memorabilia, that I came across, and set aside, as I did that sorting chore. I have lots more 'love letters' to share from other men who I never married, or even dated, in many cases, who declared their love, for me. It seems that TALK IS CHEAP, where men's affections are concerned. I am, truly, not even sure that I am lovable, because of all the apparent insincerity of men toward me. I can't even imagine how great it would have felt, to be loved in a loving way!