Category: Family

…what mystery stirs? Part 2

That Magic Hat, art & photo by dfav.

Items disappearing in our homes is not absolutely unheard of. At our home though, it is the type of items disappearing that dangle the possibility the missing items are a bit outside the norm. Socks lost in the laundry are one thing but here are items that are harder to explain in their sudden absence.

The first missing objects are multiples of the same thing. Brace yourself. Towels. Warned you it is a stunning theft. Yes, I wrote theft. At the end of the day when laundry is finished all the towels will not fit in the shelves and come sunrise gone. Poof. Like magic.

We use a lot of towels in our home. I can literally tell you how many of each color we have and especially the ones that were wedding presents. Even as I tap-tap the keyboard in a quiet house with no lights burning there is some thief with a towel fetish preparing to swipe some more. Our poor towels are innocently laying as bait for the Towel Thief.

Yes, yes it is true. Especially the wedding towels are old. Twenty-four years to be exact. Yes, they are showing their age. Even some that are five-years-old are showing wear and tear. Every dried load has me snipping loosed binding. Stray threads and lint haveto be picked off them with the tacky lint tape. (Do you think super glue would hold those threads together?)

The Ziploc filled with rubber bands. Not just ordinary rubber bands. BIG, wide-stretching, red rubber bands. There is one used to keep the trash bag from submitting to gravity and sliding into the bottom of each can in our home. My urge to always be prepared meant the package I bought had enough so when they break we can replace them at that moment.

These missing have not even put into duty yet and they are AWOL. Are the cats planning to weave them together and make a bungie cord? Is that what the latest construction like noises are from our daughter’s room?

Did perhaps my nephew and niece discovered the bands and decide to send their stuffed animals over the shelf cliff for their own bungie jump and it backfired? The animals went down and did not come back up?

My favorite sleep shirts. Always tossed into the delicate laundry basket after every shower one week they did not return in the clean clothes. Nor were they in one of the other separating hampers, behind the baskets, under the bed, mixed in with the dewindling towel supply or behind the washer or dryer.

Did they dissolve in the washer? Admittedly, they were in that comfortable stage of wear. But neither had holes (well one did but I sewed it up). None were fraying.

Which brings the road back to the washing machine again. There have been some loud bangs from it. When questioned about these noises she told us it was a little twisted indigestion because the towels were not distributed evenly in the tub. Again, socks, even underwear I could buy being “eaten” by the washing machine but entire nightshirts? Unless the washer hides the portal to the Land of Unfound Stuff I have to rule it out here.

Were is this stuff going? Simple, remember the magician I cleared earlier? I take it back. Yes, a magician unable to get work during this pandemic is keeping his skills sharp by levitating odd items out of our home. When we have finally turned out the lights Mr. Magician must pull up in the drive-way and with great concentration pull off his hiest for the night.

Probably using the towels as rags to wash and dry his coffinlike box he uses to saw his assistant in two in. The rubber bands Mr. Magic must be using to practice some magic trick involving the rabbit who is sick of being pulled out of that top hat. Maybe he needed some night shirts to replace the ones the rabbit used as bedding?

Again, it is quite the mystery, is it not? But, it is bedtime for me. Top of the list for when I wake? Investigate washer!

—-Donna

…”apple of my eye”.

Our nieces and nephews are a great source of love, comfort and joy for their funcle (fun uncle) and I. On a recent occasion we were together one of eight-year-old nieces was in a mood. She was hot. She was cold. Her hair should be up, no she wanted it down. Why was the drive taking so long? Why were we there so quickly? She was finding little happiness in anything.

I called her over and gave her a huge hug. Kissed her forehead and said, “Now what’s going on with you Miss Moody?” Nothing. No reply.

I told her, “I see something has you unhappy and I’m sorry. I just want you to know you are the apple of my eye.” From her face hidden on my shoulder she peeked up at me.

“What’s Bubba?”

“Oh, he’s the orange,” I said.

She popped up and grinned. “The orange?”

She sat back down a happier child. Proceeded to eat her seven shrimp and five of mine, plus a piece of broccoli from her funcle’s plate. All her crankiness did not melt away but she giggled more and lunch was a happier experience for us all.

I understood how she felt. How often do I feel the need to feel God’s arms holding me and hear Him tell me He loves me? All the time. On this day whatever had our niece in mood was set right by the reminder she was extra special to me. She is extra special. Everyone of our nine nieces and nephews are special to us. We love the love and joy they bring to us and we try to give them love and joy too.

Today, look up to God and ask Him for a hug and reminder of how much He loves you. There is no shame in asking for what you need. Then pray about the person in your life that needs the same reminder from you.

It will change everything if you let it.

—-Donna

…lost Spaghetti?”

Yes, if you ask me, Spaghetti was lost.

The phone call came from a sobbing young woman, anxiety ridden because one of her beloved feline companions slipped off her leash and shot up onto a heavily wooded mountain side at a local park. Our daughter (the caller) was beyond upset and she and her boyfriend looked for Spaghetti for five hours. Five cold, damp hours. Spaghetti remained AWOL.

All of us posted social media notifications. We prayed Spaghetti would turn up. My Mama heart broke as I helplessly watched our daughter grieve. Spaghetti had been a stray whose tail had been cruely divorced from her body. She literally followed our daughter home after the maintenance man threatened to kill her. Given that our daughter’s other American Short Haired black cat (yes, two, they look like twins) was named Meatball, it was a natural thing to call Spaghetti, Spaghetti.

Spent considerable time praying Spaghetti would again find her way to our house or show up at the park. The park office had been alerted to the lost feline. Despite what naysayers will feel the need to interject, God had His perfect arrangements made in advance.

Early the next morning we learn the cat has been spotted, catching mice out by the pump house. Father and daughter go out to hopefully bring her home. Turned out it wasn’t too hard. Though Spaghetti hid a bit, Daddy called to her calmly and Daughter put a bit of food out and Spaghetti gave up on being a runaway.

Our daughter says she’s grounded forever. Ah…those parental over reactions get us all from time to time.

Meanwhile, I can’t resist this adaption of “On Top of Old Smokey”.

Topped by the Meatball, all covered with fur, I lost my poor Spaghetti who jumped to the floor. Right off the table and zoom out the door, there went Spaghetti streaking like nevermore…way before summer she returned for her mush*.

*Spaghetti couldn’t return expecting kittens, we had her “fixed”.

—Donna

…about forgiveness?

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When it comes to love, people have a lot of expectations. Some of those are reasonable, good, and necessary. But, sometimes these relationships are unhealthy, unbalanced and even abusive.

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The Bible has a lot to say about love in all avenues of our lives.

Love between neighbors:

“Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against one of your people, but love your neighbor as yourself.” Leviticus 19:18a

The Holy Bible, New International Version, 1973, 1978, Zondervan Corporation.

Love for God:

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.” Deuteronomy 6:5

The Holy Bible, New International Version, 1973, 1978, Zondervan Corporation.

Love for your enemies:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, Do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if someone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. If someone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. Give to the one who asks you and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you. Matthew 5:38-42

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your brothers, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” Matthew 5:43-48

The Holy Bible, New International Version, 1973, 1978, Zondervan Corporation.
Photo by RODNAE Productions on Pexels.com

Love between husband and wife:

“Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.” Ephesians 5:22-24

Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless. In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. After all, no one ever hated his own body, but he feeds and cares for it, just as Christ does the church–for we are members of his body. For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh. This is a profound mystery–but I am talking about Christ and the church. However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband.” Ephesians 5:25-33

The Holy Bible, New International Version, 1973, 1978, Zondervan Corporation.
Photo by August de Richelieu on Pexels.com

Love between parents and children:

“Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. “Honor your father and mother”–which is the first commandment with a promise–“that it may go well with you and that you may enjoy long life on the earth.” Fathers, do not exasperate your children, instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord.” Ephesians 6:1-4

The Holy Bible, New International Version, 1973, 1978, Zondervan Corporation.
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

What happens though, when the relationship isn’t healthy? What happens when the relationship is abusive? And there’s a whole lot of ways a relationship can be abusive.

A relationship between a church member and a church can be abusive if scripture is twisted and used as a means of control or to excuse sin. We tend to think of this relationship as between a cult and their members but I’ve known of it to occur in churches where leadership is uneducated, where tradition is taught more than scripture.

Relationships between husband and wife can definitely be abusive. The ways are many: physical, emotional, sexual, verbal, psychological, financial, and spiritual. These relationships do so much damage to the partner being abused. It can be either way, husband to wife or wife to husband.

Children can certainly be abused by a parent, older sibling, cousin, aunt or uncle, or another adult, such as a live-in partner. A child who grows up in an abusive home is likely to be an abuser or to accept abusive behavior toward them because it’s all they’ve ever known.

When abuse happens, when someone is swallowing their emotions, their words to avoid making the abuse worse at some point an explosion occurs, scores must be settled. Healing can and will take place if you are able to forgive.

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Especially when you get yourself out of the abusive relationship and are working on moving on from it. The Bible is also clear about forgiveness.

“For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” Matthew 6:14-15

“Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.” Matthew 18:21-22

“So watch yourselves. ‘If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him. If he sins against you seven times in a day, and seven times comes back to you and says, ‘I repent,’ forgive him.” Luke 17:3-4

The Holy Bible, New International Version, 1973, 1978, Zondervan Corporation.

God’s Word is clear in His expectation we forgive those who hurt us. What that looks like, how that happens isn’t quite so clear a picture so I speak from experience.

My father was physically, emotionally, financially, and even spiritually abusive to us. There were times he struck our mother, many, many times he was physically abusive to two of his three children. He was emotionally unavailable to us usually except for the youngest child. That turned out to be abusive too.

The church we attended in my teenage years was spiritually abusive in that tradition was taught, scripture twisted to make their point. For example that women should not wear pants inside the church building. The first time I did after I left home for college I got nothing out of the service because I was afraid God was going to strike me with lightening during the service. It was a physical relief when I walked outside after service in one piece.

One summer between the first and second grade I was molested by a family member staying with us to help my mother with a sick child by caring for us older two. My parents were so angry with me.

As a young adult trying to make it on my own far away from home on February 9 I was raped in my apartment.

There have been a couple romantic relationships that were emotionally abusive.

Sadly, even a relationship with a family member became emotionally abusive as we moved into adulthood.

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Each of these relationships have had an event that set me on the road to forgiveness for the abuser and myself. Sometimes, I can reach that point easier than others. But, each time I have forgiven, without giving that person the power to hurt me again.

There have been some relationships, some abuse that lasted longer in my life and I’ve forgiven, reforgiven and repeated the act, the prayer, the release multiple times, sometimes daily. But, I keep on doing it because God tells me He expects me to forgive for He has forgiven me.

When God forgives me He forgives the sin but He doesn’t remove the consequences of my sin. I had opportunities in life that I failed to take advantage of because my self-esteem was beaten down so low. God would have helped me had I been willing to try, but I was still convinced I was meant for the back row, not the front.

I encourage you to turn to God for help forgiving those who have hurt you. Live your life where God wants you. Forgive, forgive and repeat until the need lessens. Don’t expect the other party to ask for forgiveness, or to even acknowledge the pain they’ve caused.

Forgive because God expects you to.

Forgive because God loves you.

Forgive because God forgives you.

Forgive because it will keep you from carrying the burden of unforgiveness one moment longer.

—-Donna

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…when addiction hits home, then what?

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It is possible to become addicted to nearly everything. Street drugs, over-the-counter and prescribed medication , alcohol, sports, shopping, anger, people and even sex just for starters. Anything that can be misused and abused in one’s life can become an addiction. It can quickly occur in the life of the person involved.

A surgery leads to a lot of pain that doctors ease with medication. No one starts out thinking, “I’m going to make myself addicted to these pain killers”. Your pain is real. The relief from the pain medication is real. Then you discover the extra dose, or two pills instead of one eases the pain even quicker.

Today most doctors are more aware of the patient who is abusing their medication. Doctor shopping is harder to accomplish. Still, it’s possible to find yourself addicted to prescribed medication quickly.

There are lots of “tells”. Prescriptions run out before the due refill date. Doctors don’t want to prescribe more to you. Your thoughts center on when you can take your next dose or if two pills give you the relief you used to get. Do you need three?

Thought patterns change and shift. You no longer think about spending time with family, your job, your church, being financially responsible, instead you are consumed with the object or person you’ve become addicted to. You need it or them more than anything else. Test yourself, In a conversation with someone focus on how many times you say the word “I”.

  • “I’m in so much pain.”
  • “I just can’t wait until the six hours pass.”
  • “I can’t believe it, someone is stealing my medication.”
  • “I am going to have the manager change my locks. Someone is getting in here and messing with my pain pills.”
  • “I feel”, “I want”, “I need”.

Addiction is no respecter of social class, wealth or lack of, education levels, life circumstances, gender, marital or parental status, age or anything else. When it breeds in you it consumes you, your mind, your heart and your money. Those left in your life, witnessing this, are confronted with a situation most of the time they have no idea of how to handle.

In our family recently we tried to confront the person gently but firmly. The person has a difficult personality that combined with her addiction proves her deafness isn’t only with her ears. Until she allows us to speak candidly with her doctors we are limited in the conversation we can have with them. Reality is it’s going to be a hard road for us all.

The harshest truth is that you can send them to rehab, you can alert doctors, guilt the addicted to see what they’re doing to their children or grandchildren but until they themselves want free of the addiction it’s useless. This health crisis the world is experiencing due to COVID-19 isn’t helpful. In person, face-to-face contact is so limited. The computer screen, in my opinion, only adds a layer of denial for the addicted. The numbers already show an increase in depression and anxiety, and no additional mental health issues are helpful to an addict.

This is the first straight-up addiction problem our family as a whole has faced together. Thankfully, we’re recognizing it early and are in agreement to continue to pursue all avenues open to us to help our loved one. We all have to help one another not to get to that place of no longer caring about what happens to the addicted because of the pain wrought in our lives long before this became an issue. We will pursue help for ourselves to help this family member.

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Philippians 4: 6-7, New International Version, 1973, 1978, Zondervan Corporation.

Though we’re new to this link of the journey through life we are far from alone. We’re also depending on God to help us through this.

—-Donna

…wasn’t it just a picture?

The old adage that a picture is worth a thousand words really means something to me. If you were to tour my house you’d understand how seriously I take my photos. We have a long hallway that intersects with a shorter one and there’s only a bit of room left to hang more.

photos by dfav 10/16/2020

There are others scattered about, sitting on our mantle piece, hanging on another’s rooms wall. Some of them are of family that I never even knew. My paternal grandmother’s family. My husband’s grandparents and an uncle that passed before we got married. Every photo has a memory, a story connected and the people in them are a part of me. Of course, our daughter’s life is chronicled in photos.

There is one photograph though that has always been missing. It hung on my paternal grandmother’s wall for as long as I can remember. I used to stare at it every time we went to visit and my grandmother would repeat the story of the day it was made. In it I am a newborn, my parents were 19 (mother) and 20 (father). Off to the side watching the event was my paternal grandfather, Grandpa Tollie.

photographer unknown, March 1964.

Who knows why, exactly, but I was told Grandpa Tollie was crazy over me. Could have been that I was the first grandchild. Could have been because I was a girl. My grandparents had boys, no girls. Could be because I was cute as a newborn. I don’t know, that’s the story I was told.

Anyway along with the 8×10″ picture of me with my parents was a smaller one in the upper right corner of my father and mother on the day they were married.

My grandmother promised me I could have that picture one year when I was in high school and she was alive and well. She said, “When I die I want you to have that picture.” Granny told my parents and she told the other aunts and uncles there too. Later, when she was very ill and I came home to see her she repeated that promise.

I left my home state when I finished college so I only saw Granny a couple times after that move. Every now and then one of us would call each other. Or I would write her a letter. But, I knew her intentions about that photograph. I knew she remembered.

After the funeral I asked my dad about it. He said he didn’t know so he’d ask. When he came home he told me that when they’d build Granny a new home on the same land she’d lived for decades the brothers (her sons) had built it smaller. She’d had to downsize and that picture was thrown away.

Even then it made no sense to me. But, it was gone. What was I to do?

Close to thirty plus years later, the picture pops up in my text messages. It was sent by someone else in my family. There was no “who do you think this baby is” or “is this the picture you’ve talked about”? Just a “look what I got”. No mention then, that if the baby wasn’t them they would give it to whoever it was. No mention of a copy at that point. That indicated to me they thought the picture was of my parents with them. It was like being slapped on both sides of my face and gut punched at the same time. What? No. That was me in the photograph. Further more it was my picture.

The “new owner” said, no that this photo wasn’t Granny’s it was my aunts. I quickly explained. There were only two copies of that picture. One belonged to my mother and the other to my grandmother. Mama’s had burned up in our first house fire when I was four. That was Granny’s photo and she’d promised it to me.

Suddenly I also realized that an entire room full of people, who’d heard her wishes twice, had flat out lied to me. That picture wasn’t destroyed. And why my aunt even wanted it boggled my mind. Or did my dad just lie?

This was the tip of an iceberg that led to a big arguement. I tried to be calm. I did. Yet, I also knew I’d spoken with this particular person, now angry with me, more than a few times about this photograph.

Later, someone would say concerning our disagreement that it was, “over a PICTURE, just a picture” No. Oh, no, no, no. It wasn’t about a mere picture.

We’re talking a photo that is 56 years old and counting. You’re talking about one tangible piece of my life that tied me to my parents, my Grandpa Tollie and Granny. A lot of life happened to that tiny baby.

It was also about the lies. The out and out lies. All the lies. Every single one of them came to the surface and I was so over it. A lifetime of lies. That’s what our family felt reduced to.

My dad was a champion liar. World class. To the outside world, beyond our home’s walls, my Dad was known by some as a generous, kind man. To them he’d loan money or pay for big ticket items for while his own family didn’t always have adequate food or mother had to figure out how to cover our bills. He’d let her fret over paying the utility bills or mortgage and he just kept telling her we didn’t have it. Then an hour before the bank or utility company would close he’d pull out hundred dollar bills. “Had it all along,” he’d say. He was a man who refused to let anyone know his oldest daughter and child had been molested. Refused her the help she needed to deal with all that aftermath. Telling her instead it was her fault. At seven-years-old it was her fault.

Or he was known as mean spirited man by the others in the community. One who cheated people, undercut them, lied to them, got them a job and then got them fired to prove he had the clout. Who gloated in their misery.

Whatever happened at home, his angry rages, his hitting our mother, his hitting us, our financial woes we knew never to mention to anyone. Not family. Not friends. No one at church. No, my father had two faces and we knew the angry face and actions all to well. If it wasn’t physical, especially as we grew older, it was psychological and emotional.

We really believed we’d hid our secrets well, but we hadn’t. The community knew. At his funeral I can’t count the times people came to me and said, “We knew what he did to y’all and your mother. But back then you didn’t intervene.” They all knew. No one helped us.

I have kept my mouth shut. Out of respect for initially, the two uncles we still had living and later for the last surviving one. Also, for my cousin who thought Uncle Gene was a kindhearted man. I thought they surely didn’t know who my father really was, or they would have stepped in. I thought up until then that the things my father used to tell us about what his family said about us were exaggerations. He was a liar. I knew that. But, years of therapy and talking to God I forgave, thinking I could forgive but not give him or others the the power to hurt me again.

The picture surfaced and I’ve realized that maybe Daddy wasn’t the only liar in our family. Had they said the things he said they said? Did they really hate our mother and therefore us too? Did Granny really love her other grandkids more than us? Did they really see me as “stuck up”? Or worse?

Who knows? Maybe the whole story behind that picture is a lie too. That’s the problem with lies. You can never be sure who to trust, who to believe. But, even so, that picture will always belong to me regardless of whose wall it hangs on.

Just a picture? No. It will never be just a picture. I am grateful for a digital picture of a picture though. Do I regret the argument that happened shortly after that photo landed in my text box? Yes. I deeply regret that I couldn’t rise above my heartbreak to be kinder, more understanding, to be satisfied with a copy.

Yet, the whole argument isn’t about the photo. Even I realize that but I can only control myself.

That’s nothing to lie about and I’m not going to.

—-Donna

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