We have all heard the saying…Knowledge is power. I have often said this myself. Frequently I have encouraged the children around me to embrace school and learning due to the power it can give them. The power to change their lives and to become who they want to be. However, I have a friend who recently shared their burden with trusting anything. They need cold hard facts. They refuse to take anyone’s “word for it”. It sounds wise to get all the facts and make a judgement call based on evidence before you but my friend is miserable. Clouded with fear and mistrust, he feels like people are out to get him and how nothing is “as it should be”. He has created a prison in his own mind. He feels that everyone else walks around naive and blind to the pain in the world and the doom we all face down the road. The economy, civil unrest, aging, and sickness will touch everyone and this knowledge has him crippled. I started to think about how we all know we will die but not knowing when keeps us all more sane. If we knew this morning when we woke up it would be our last day would we….. commit crimes we would never have to pay for? Would we turn our lives to God? Would we share every minute enjoying it with those who matter? Would we go mad with panic? 

Do we really want to know more?                 Do we want to know when we will die?       Does she want to know all the details of his affair?                                                                 Do we want to know we will lose a loved one?                                                                            Do we really want to know our hero parents are really wolves in sheeps clothing?                                                                

Yes, knowledge gives us the ability to change things but ignorance helps us accept things. Children don’t know the mortgage is due or that so many people go hungry. For our sanity let us all embrace knowledge but learn to shut out the fear. Let us live in the moment, grateful for every blessing even when they are outnumbered by problems. 

So I’m going to ask you…Is knowledge power or poison? 

Havelock, NC in about 1985….. we moved here with high hopes. I was excited to meet an uncle and his family I had only heard. There was a small trailer we rented that had a small bed and bath down one side and a larger bedroom and bathroom to the other end. I was grateful to have my own room even though there were places around the windows that were bare and I could see outside. I just stuffed some old newspapers into the cracks, filled the holes and tried to make it cozy. 

Before we started to school my brother and I were allowed to get two pairs of jeans and two shirts because the only things we had were road worn from hitch hiking and had rips and stains that couldn’t be cleaned or repaired. So every night I would take a shower and let the water fill in the tub to wash my clothes,  especially undergarments. The kids accused me of wearing my pants every day but they were the same make of jeans and I just washed them at night and alternated them every other day. 

The moss colored tub was shallow but it got the job done. One day as I was getting out of my shower, I grabbed my towel  to wrap around me when he lunged at me and took my towel. I fought for it and then coward towards the corner to cover myself. “I yelled at you to get out of the shower and stop wasting water, you don’t give a damn” he yelled as he pulled at me grabbing handfuls of my breasts and then pushed me across the room were ai huddled with my arms crossing over my flesh. “I will not be ignored in my own home” his eyes were roaming my body. I cried out for him to stop, to forgive me for not hearing him. But he had gone too far, he needed to punish me for not listening,  he needed to violate but feel righteous because he needed to feel  that I’m deserving. 

Then…

The home built with strong backs and loving dreams. 

The marriage that was joyously accepted with celebration. 

The infant that was held with loving hands and welcomed into this world

Now…..

The pillars are cracked, the wallpaper has peeled and the foundation is cracking. 

She sleeps alone while he sleeps with another, the children cry

The teenager ingests anything that will numb the pain

How did it get here? NEGLECT, no we didn’t start fire to our home, we didn’t leave our spouse on our honeymoon and we didn’t hand feed our infant narcotics. It was a much slower and passive then that. 

Termite inspection was never done, the roof wasn’t replaced after the storm, the chipped paint left wood exposed to the elements that set up rot. 

He didn’t tell her she was beautiful, she started watching her shows instead of trying to communicate, they stopped going out of their way to strengthen their relationship

They had to work long hours and left her alone, they push her aside when they face painful situations or use her as a weapon, they assume she knows they loved her. 

NEGLECT, we can act innocent, we can even point the finger since it’s not something we actually do but rather something we allow to happen. NEGLECT your body and it will take years off your life, NEGLECT your relationships and they will be fragile until they no longer exist. NEGLECT your soul and you will lack peace and solace. 

I’m going to take responsibility for my health, for my marriage, for my relationships, but most importantly I’m going to take responsibility for my happiness and walk as close to my savior as I humanly can. 

The scene in the Casper movie from 1995 where Casper leans down and kisses her cheek and he asks her “can I keep you”really touched my heart. Moving so often as a child made me feel like Casper. I was always “the new girl” nobody knew more of me than what I wanted them to know. Often times I made up a story I wanted instead of sharing the reality of my life. This caused me to feel like a ghost to others, invisible in my own skin. Casper had his family but they were not like him, they were cruel and enjoyed causing pain an striking fear in others. He was young, sad, and all alone. He roamed the halls of his life every night, every day, the only thing he longed for was a friend. 

When this movie came out my oldest was four and my youngest son was just a baby.  Every time I would cradle them as they slept, I would smell their hair, kiss their cheek and ask them “can I keep you”. I know people are not property and you don’t “keep” someone but I just want to keep them forever in my heart. Then I became more bold and would whisper it to my husband when we would snuggle. With gentle conviction he would always pull me tighter and say “yes”. The security of his conviction gave me courage to accept more keepsakes of the heart. 

To my chosen family, my friends and loved ones that I’m so blessed by.  You may not be a keepsake by blood but my heart is so grateful to have you in my life I ask you with the most sincere spirit  “Can I keep you?”

“Don’t touch anything close to this bed or on this bed.”, “do you hear me girl” “yes mam” I mumbled, but didn’t look back up because her stare was frightening. “Well, its rude not to answer when someone is talking to you, so don’t be rude either” I don’t know why she is angry with me? I would never touch her stupid stuff. 

Phoenix Az 1980, in a homeless shelter. This shelter separated the men from the women so my sister and I stayed on the women’s side alone and my dad and brother stayed on the other, opposite the kitchen. It had turned too cool to stay in the tent so dad found this shelter that would let us stay through the night and we had to leave after breakfast. 

The room we slept in had concrete block walls painted in a medium grey that stayed cool to the touch, the bunk beds were six in a room, metal and squeaked loudly every time some one moved. Each bed had a thin pillow and a scratchy blanket, now I wonder if the bedding had been laundered during the day or if we  shared bedding with other homeless people. My sister slept on the bottom bunk and I slept on the top. There were short windows of time we were allotted TV viewing in a separate media room that had plastic feeling furniture and bibles sitting around. Since I wake up so early I would try to sneak in there and watch the smurfs before breakfast. 

We had been staying at this shelter for almost a week at that time. During the day we would walk the streets, while my father looked for a job and visit the various soup kitchens for food. Honestly, this was the most food we had access to in a while and I liked having a routine so I knew what we were going to do. But at night I hated it. It wasn’t the bed or the unfriendly atmosphere, I wasn’t scared of the dark.  The alleys we’ve slept in were often darker and deffinetly colder. It was the crying. The angry lady, who snapped at everyone during the day wailed like she lost her best friend, my sister below me cried every night, it was muffled but the sniffling would echo in my head, I could hear an infant from another room that would bellow like clock work, causing a feeling of panic inside me. Occasionally someone would yell out to “shut up” but that just felt hostile.  I would close my eyes tightly and see how deep I could breath and how many  breaths I could count before I fell asleep hoping that the crying would stop so I didn’t have to feel so much.  

Last night I was getting ready to go to an album release. My excitement is extreme for my friends who have worked so hard and put all their hearts into their music. Steadily I applied my makeup and did my hair. I haven’t had time to “fix up” much since we’ve been moving so I really enjoyed the process. Since the party was late and the venue is dark I decided to go all out and use a little glitter. When I step back and checked my efforts I thought to myself “that eyeshadow is pretty”.

Triggered memories flooded over me. I could all but hear him say “Pretty Ugly”. The day I asked if my lavender hair bows were pretty. The day my neighbor said my eyes were pretty. The time I dressed up for a chorus concert and I stood before him, as a little girl needing validation wanting affirmation of some kind. As a child wanting to be noticed as smart, kind, or a pretty person and all he could say was “pretty ugly”.  That’s the way I was described. Did it pain him to compliment me, to encourage me? Was he afraid I would become strong if I felt any self worth? Did he know I would marry the first boy who told me I was pretty? Did he feel secure because I was insecure?

Give you’re daughters value, not just for their looks but recognize their strengths and look for the beauty she has and nurture her and she WILL blossom.

When I think of small things I think of sand. It’s so tiny. Like a single piece of sugar, just one piece of sugar or sand is almost nothing. 

  Lately, my life has been turned upside down and I felt my nerves flailing around like crazy. Gone was my patience, my focus, and my ability to cope. So, I pulled myself aside and asked myself “what is your problem”. I reminded myself of all the great and wonderful things in my life and asked myself if there was anything terrible going on. No one is sick, we havent faced any financial ruin, my marriage is as strong as ever. The big and important things in life are all great. 

Then I realized. It’s the sand. All of the things we have been going through “good and bad” are like sand. By them selves they are harmless but together they can rain havoc on your mind. In sixty days we had to find a house, in our school district because we have foster kids I didn’t want to disrupt more than possible, have the home inspected beyond normal to meet state requirements. Things like septic and well water checks. Then prepare our new home to meet standards for childcare like locking closets for dangerous things etc. also had to build a fence to keep kids away from water on property and secure our four legged friends. Our bank merged with another causing some issues along the ways.  We also had to say goodbye to the home we raised our kids. Annnnnd, the presidential election that has rain chaos on our country. I promise this is just the icing on the cake. 

Then we had wonderful things happen like the birth of our second grand daughter. Celebrated our anniversary and a couple birthdays, planning Thanksgiving, we even hosted a moving party that turned out to be so helpful but very stressful. 

Then the strongest person I know started buckling under the weight of the sand and I said to myself “it’s time to clean house” my husband needs to be persuaded to not empty any boxes, not call any service providers, cancel all loving visits from friends and family and let us….. Just take care of each other. We have now found the toiletries and the coffee pot. We may be worse for wear but we made it through and now we can sweep the mounds of sand off us for the day and just breathe.