One great present

    
Holidays weren't much of a big 'to do' while I was growing up.  In all fairness, dad made effort to recognize them for a few years following moms passing.  Mom's sister sent us the largest shipment of presents during Christmas time.   As any typical child, my eyes would light up at the enormity of the gifts inside the packages and I'd help place them under our tree.
      I was mesmerized by the ones with my name on them, and I'd spend hours inspecting each one.    My intention was to find a loose piece of tape so I could peek inside the present.  My aunt had wrapped them all so perfectly that my original motive was unsuccessful.  My patience was about as big as the little girl I was.
     When no one was looking, I whisked up a gift and ran down to our basement as fast as my little legs could run.   Hiding in our laundry room, I tore open the present quickly and quietly.   Since this was my first time sneaking away with a present, Imagine as my fingers quietly pulled the paper off the present, only to discover a little storage box to put barrettes and stuff in.  Sure, the plastic box was cute and all, but definitely not something to hold a six year olds attention, I wanted a toy!.  Tossing the paper evidence into our laundry storage room, I rushed back up the stairs so I could repeat my successful adventure until I found a toy which would hold my attention.  The next year my curiosity would repeat itself and so on.

     Years later,  my celebration of Christmas came to a halt, along with most of their memories.
Then one day the call of my name echoed through our house. "T  R  A  C  Y!"  my dad hollered.  I slowly trudged down the stairs to see what all his fuss was about.  As I turned the corner to our laundry room, I overlooked the clutter in front of me as dad appeared to be pretty angry. With hands on his hips, a scowling look upon his face, I followed his eyes to the large pile of Christmas paper that lay crumpled on the floor.  So many years had passed since I had done this sort of sneaky stuff I had forgotten all about it.    Sure the paper was biodegradable and all, but enough dust had not collected to hide the evidence from my dad before he would uncover this incredible collection. My embarrassed laughter drown out my dads attempted scolding until he couldn't hold back and laughter over took him as well.  While cleaning up the mess this had made in our laundry room, I shared with dad the story  behind my thought process years earlier.

     My dad was a genuine softy as well as the most forgiving man I've ever known on earth. (beside my husband of course).   Presents come and presents go, but the memory of my dad's laughter and his smile is one of my favorite gifts of all.

An invisible scar

    While it may seem my memory only collected sorrowful events, there were many people who reached out and made wonderful impacts on my life, and they will not be overlooked as I type exerts of my life. My wish however, is to raise them up to the heights each of them deserve.

  
     When you're a little girl with four very tall brothers, one can imagine how easy it was to look up to them, literally. Tim stood six feet tall with an additional six inches to boot.  He had very long dark hair which he  pulled into a pony tail most of the time.  he was built bigger than my other brothers as he had big biker arms tattooed with skulls and other dark looking images.  He was a drinker, a rebel of sorts who took pride in his scary appearance, and seemed to scare most people away.  We were all afraid of him, including my dad.
     One particular day I was playing alone in my room when I heard screaming between dad and Tim..  Curiosity got the best of me as I peeked into the kitchen and the fiasco continued.  Apparently, dad had found marijuana in Tim's belongings and threw it out.  Tim was beyond mad as his face was so red and curse words that should never be said or heard spewed from his lips.  The fear I felt said I should run, call the police, or buck up and kick Tim where it hurt the most.  There wasn't time to think or react.  One punch was enough to knock dad out. Yet, with the force my brother used, knocked dads head into heavy metal door frame causing him to fall onto our floor with great force, it left my dad convulsing.  Dads eyes rolled into the back of his eye sockets and for a moment he appeared dead to me.  Dad spent the following week in the hospital finding his senses as Tim had done quite the job knocking 'em out of him.

     Not long after dads hospital stay, Tim bought me a pair of hamsters.  He seemed overcome with guilt for what I had witnessed and I suppose this was his way of "making it up to me".  One hamster was gray, the other was orange,  colors that seem ugly to an imagination, but on hamsters and their cute little faces, made them look like rays of sunshine. I loved them.
     Tim kept my new little pets in his room as I was too young to care for them myself, or so he said. There wasn't time to become too attached to my hamsters, he killed them both. Without any emotion, Tim said in a matter of fact tone,"They made too much noise while I was sleeping, and I shut 'em up".  Not long after the murder of my hamsters a surprise awaited when I got home from school .  Guilt must have over taken Tim again as he made me the coolest roped swing.  He hung it from a tree along side our driveway.
     This swing was IT...the best gift ever!  I would rush home from school each day as quickly as I could just to be on that swing. What fun it was to soar high into the sky swinging back and forth, higher and higher, the wind blowing through my hair, my mind was free and clear of any troubles.  Oh, what a great escape from my world that swing was to me.  Tim could be a jerk, yet he sure went over the top to make up for his errors.  The swing he made me was by far the best gift I had been given up to that day.

     My source of escape wouldn't last long. I had left the swing hanging down from the tree. When Tim came home from work one day, his truck hit the swing as he pulled into the driveway.  Not sure how he missed seeing it, but once it hit his truck his blood began to boil.  I was inside our house when he screamed at the top of his lungs for me.   When I peered out the front door and he knew my eyes were on him, he tore that tree swing down along with the branches that carried it.  There was no way to ever have a tree swing again, Tim made sure of it.  Although I was devastated and speechless, I was not brave enough to cuss him out as I had heard him do so many times.

     There was never any accountability to my knowledge he ever faced.  He was big, he was scary, and although he never laid a hand on me personally, he hurt me with a thousand emotional punches.

A blanket of pain

     I've lived with visions, idea's, and dreams of what my mom was or who she would have been as mental escapes in my young world.
     Dad moved on to another woman who seemed to take an interest in me or maybe an interest in my dad, I just happen to be with that package.  This woman had a family with a couple girls of her own which provided instant play mates for me.  My dad left me in the care of this family more times than not.  I wonder if he thought this woman would be a motherly influence to me, maybe I thought she would be.   All the same this little girl was along for a roller coaster ride my dad had volunteered me for.
     Us girls got along so well, we would play outside for hours, then we would go inside and play so long as we weren't too loud.  We were like sisters in some ways, we would sit together on a bus while we sang out loud great Bible songs during VBS.  We'd take sleeping bags and slide down the best stairs one could have in their house.  Sometimes I felt jealous of their family because they had a mom who did things for her daughters, promising me the same, but never delivering.

     I was in the first grade and Halloween was quickly approaching.  Festivities were a big deal back in those days, as everyone dressed up for this event along with everyone marching in the school parade in their costumes.  I wish I could say I had an amazing costume, I wish I had one memory that stood out saying, someone paid attention to those little details, but not for this child, not during this childhood.
     My greatest disappointment wasn't because I didn't have a costume that day while everyone else did.  My greatest disappointment came because I believed a "fill in" mom when she promised to make me a costume and bring it to my first grade classroom before my school parade.  Instead, the teacher tried to cover up best she could the unfortunate mishap that her student was experiencing by suggesting my fury coat as a costume.  I don't remember crying over this, but I remember being saved by a severe bloody nose which prevented me from marching in that stupid parade after all. The costume was never made, no reason given, and it became very clear that day I was not this woman's daughter.  So, I learned a tough lesson very early on in life there was no replacing my mom as well as the lesson of "don't make promises you can't keep."  This wasn't the first promise she'd make to me and not keep, and the result would carry long into my adult life and to this very day.

     No, I haven't been a mom who made my children their costumes, as it was never about the costume.  I have spent years under enormous pressure I created for myself by not making promises to people I couldn't keep.  If I say "I'll be praying for you", you can trust I will in fact be praying.  I don't blame this woman for her  short comings toward me.  I'm sure she didn't know how strong the effect would be as I tried to attach myself to a mom.  The vision of what a mom meant in my mind was far too great for any woman to live up to.

The Silhouette of a stranger

     Living in a small town in Nebraska led most residents to feel a sense of safety.  My dad must have believed that as well since he never locked our doors, slept with the windows wide open, and allowed his five year old daughter the freedom to wander around unattended.  Maybe he thought the neighbors were watching out for me, maybe he assumed his teenage sons were.  I don't believe he thought anything would happen to his only daughter as he went about his life leaving me behind.

Playing outside my house, I too must have felt that safety or I was simply too young to know any different, yet I played outside with my dolls oblivious to the young man who walked through the alley behind our home.  He however, noticed me, noticed my surroundings, and realized I was alone.  When he approached me, I looked up unafraid by his appearance and he muffled "I lost my dog".  Hindsight, I should have ran into my house leaving this stranger to find his dog on his own.   Of course I wanted to help him, after all, if Tipsey was lost I would want someone to help me find her.  I ran around my house calling out whatever name the guy had given me, my voice echoed off the walls of my house.  This must have reassured the guy I was in fact 'alone'.  He motioned me toward the alley as though he thought his dog may have gone that particular way. 

    The purpose of alleys was meant to place your trash cans and were hidden paths for the most part from a persons view.  Unfortunately, I was just too young to comprehend the intent of this young man as I escorted him down the alley of our block.

     When I reflect on his appearance,  my mind can see this young mans youth. He couldn't be much older than my oldest brother.  Maybe he knew my brother, or why else would I so quickly follow this young man?  All the same, I resolved to trust him as there was no reason not to trust him.

     We kept walking farther and farther away from my house, through the alley and into the next residential alley looking for his dog.  There weren't any warning signs, he didn't grab me, he only motioned for me to look behind a bush along side this deserted alley.  My innocent five year old instincts obeyed his request.  My only defense were the tears I cried from what was to follow.
  
     If I ever saw that man again, I sure didn't remember what he looked like even if I passed him on the street.   I was just too young to pay attention to his face.  Even at the frail age of five I knew what I was seeing was not for my little eyes to see.

I've since convinced myself if my mother had been alive, none of this would have happened to me.  She would have protected me, keeping an eye on me, and prevented a stranger from ever hurting her innocent little girl.

A whisper from Above

Reflecting on my life is what in my mind it was.  Many others may view it differently, but this is my story told in ways I have understood it to be.

My dad moved on quickly after my mother died.  No room for recovery, as another woman was always around filling whatever void my dad must have been facing.  This woman who will remain nameless, owned a farm outside of Sidney and my dad would bring me there many times and I would wander the fields.

My mind was always full of imagination and this particular day was no different as I danced around in the wheat fields.  How interesting to be such a young girl and in my heart recognize where God must be as I looked up into the sky a lot.  I remember this beautiful sunny day as the sky was bright blue with clouds shaped like big balls of cotton.    The wind must have been gently blowing as the cotton ball clouds changed shape and one caught my attention.  Gazing up into the sky one cloud, one big fluffy cloud seemed to be gazing back at me.  Not literally, but in my mind it was the one that whispered my name and I followed it.   Through the wheat field I sauntered not taking my eye off of this cloud, the tears began to stream down my cheeks.  I was only five or six years old at the time, and yes, I was out in a wheat field by myself following a cloud, crying for my mom.  "Please bring her back" I remember thinking out loud.  How long I followed is not for me to remember, and my very young self always found my way back to where I was suppose to be.   The vision I saw that day was just the beginning of my knowing there was a God, and He was looking out for me.

A girls best friend

Since my dad had just spent twenty years serving in the Navy, he was left with quite a load to carry after my mothers passing.  Two teenage boys, two preteen boys, and a toddler girl is more than even my mind can manage to comprehend to care for as a single dad.  In my opinion, my dad failed miserably but not without grace as I reflect on his care for me personally.

So, I spent most of my days playing with my best friend Tipsey.  Tipsey was a mommy who tucked me in at night, the one who greeted me when I came home from school and she was the one I could tell all my secrets to. Tipsey had medium blonde hair, and such a soft way about her.  She never demanded anything from me and always let me play whatever I wanted to play whether with my barbie dolls or paper dolls.  She always snuggled with me when I would sit in front of the tv to pass time or she would be my student when I played school.  When she left, she promised to always come back and our bond was strong.  I've never minimized her role in my life as a child.  It's as if she knew how much I needed a mommy, and she filled the void as best she could and for years I would turn to her for all my comfort.  There is no denying in my mind, she was an angel sent by God to be my comforter, and on that spring day just as I was about to turn 12, Tipsey went to heaven too.
I know she loved me and she didn't want to leave me, but she had this impulse to chase cars as they drove by.  Sort of a way of shooing people away from me, or a way for her to exert her energy, but on this sad day Tipsey slid into the tire of a very large diesel pickup truck.  I was there, I saw it all happen....my best friend had been hit by a car and I watched her die on that pavement that very sad sad day.

Although this brings back such sorrowful emotions as I type it all out, my heart is overcome with joy as well.  This is the first time I have reflected so intimately my truth of her memory.  My love for dogs is so great and now I remember why.  Thank you Tipsey for taking such great care of me.

Heaven can't wait

Born in May 1969, I was the youngest and only girl with four older brothers. My father served in the United States Navy and had recently retired. My mom was a stay at home mom and she and my father had recently moved our family from Bend, Oregon to a small town in the middle of nowhere.

The "start" button to my life begins in January 1974 in the front room of our small and simple home in Sidney, Nebraska, .

I am not sure what sort of day it was outside, but I find myself trying to peer out the very large rectangled window in our living room that took up most of the front wall of our house.  "Why does the question of the kind of day it is outside seem to be one I long to answer"?  A glimpse of clouds, sunshine, or maybe snow seems to be at the forefront to calm me down, but deep inside I know it must be raining outside with thunderstorms hovering over our home, because what was going on inside would change my life forever.

  My mind tries to remember who held me that fateful day as I sat upon her lap.  I look up into eyes of emptiness, a face that is similar to a Picasso portrait as her face is unfamiliar to me.  Her comfort is confusing to my little ears as I glance across our living room and witness my four brothers huddled in the corner with my dad standing before them.  They are all crying, but none of that makes sense to me and I cannot comprehend what has happened or why all these boys would be crying almost in unison.  I remember asking the lady whose lap I sat upon, "why are they crying?", and I remember her crackling reply, "Your mommy has gone to heaven".   My innocent mind could only think, "Heaven?; what is Heaven, I must go tell my mommy how sad the boys are.  My mommy would not want them all crying in a corner and I know she would be able to make them all smile again."  I just needed to know where heaven was and how I could get there. 

When the going gets tough, the tough get GROWING

Having spent many years doing Beth Moore Bible studies, I came upon an exercise that asked you to list a title and chapters of a book on your life. Thus the title of this entry.  Oh, I didn't ponder long for this title, it just seemed to suit my options that revolved around the life I had been handed.
I wasn't born into an affluent home by a long shot and most of my friends and social groups weren't either.  For this I have somehow felt blessed, and for lack of better words "lucky" to have been dealt the cards I have.  My childhood life and environment I lived, both lonely and heart wrenching has paved the way for the life I live today; the love I have for God, the wife I am, and the mother I am so blessed to be to my children.
No, it has not been easy and I have made many many mistakes along the way.  This is my story in words I haven't spoken to many, in ways very few have ever heard, but in the raw emotions of my life I believe all will see how great God is and His reality in my life......  May you be blessed as you read on.