My Testimony

This is very personal, and somewhat difficult to share. I feel like God wants me to share it, though. So, here goes.

I guess I should begin by saying I was raised in a Christian home my entire life. I was the youngest of 3 daughters… a true “Daddy’s girl”. I had been protected all my life.. and even tho I knew vaguely that bad things happen…well, surely it wouldn’t happen to me. I was a daughter of God, right ? Yes… I was very naive. An acquaintance introduced me to a man when I was about 18 or 19. I fell head over heels in love with him: even tho he wasn’t in any kind of church at all. He had been raised Baptist, or so he said. He proposed and I accepted. He was driving a semi cross country at the time. He was from the same area in AR that my dad grew up in– he knew some of my relatives. Several people that I knew tried to convince me not to marry him: they said they didn’t trust him.

Well, in my innocent defense.. I felt like they had no right to judge him when they didn’t know him! My wedding was set for July.. he came to town and for various reasons, he had to leave a couple of days before the wedding. The day dawned beautifully… but the hours went by and there was no groom. I called the church 2 hours before the wedding and cancelled it. I found out later my pastors wife had moved my gown to a different room and she broke down and started crying when she touched it. That family was up all night that night praying for me. But, I didn’t know that then.

My fiance called and made his excuses…he had gotten to town later than he planned. He saw no reason we couldn’t still be married that night…. Well, I believed him yet again.

I postponed the wedding until October though. We got married at my parent’s house. I felt like God had personally blessed me with the “perfect” guy. We moved to Boise, Idaho the next September. All this time, he had been trucking and mostly, I stayed at my parents house except for a month when I rode with him.

I was pregnant with our son when we moved to Idaho in the fall. He agreed to give trucking up so we could be a family.. he did it for me… or so I thought. He never really physically abused me at all. He whipped me, once. Only once. I promised him that if he ever did it again, he would more than regret it. He believed me. He was charming, fun to be around.

By October, I knew there was a lot that he wasn’t telling me. I couldn’t be that naive. He left in November for a “business” trip. He had started his own business.. and because I am a Christian, I won’t get too graphic. I simply found out he made a profit on women and leave it at that.

When I phoned his stepfather, I was informed that he had married me under his brother’s name. He also had a wife and son about 4 hours from where we were living: in Salt Lake City.

Suffice it to say, I took the next plane home. I couldn’t raise my son in that environment. The man broke my heart and for a long time, I allowed it to break my spirit. I raised our son alone, with my folk’s helping. I couldn’t trust anyone, even tho I depended on God to see me thru (and He did !). I never felt like I would ever be happy. That I didn’t even deserve to be. There wasn’t much said from the church family about my divorce (I found out my pastor basically told them they better not !! lol) But, I felt that things were different in how I was treated. I wasn’t asked to teach anymore… or do too much at all. It seemed as though everything I had ever known wasn’t the same, anymore. I felt so helpless and worthless. I lived for my son. I adored him and he made my life worth living.

My ex never had anything to do with us after I left him. The first few years of my son’s life, I was literally in so much emotional pain, I could barely concentrate. My son was my salvation. I felt like such a failure in every other area of my life. Time made it a little better, but I still didn’t trust any man. I knew there would never be one who’d love me & stay with me.

Anyway, I moved to another state in 1996 . In the winter of early 2000, God showed me that there would be more children in my life, a girl and a boy. My son was 16 now, and I saw no way in the world I would ever have more children. I couldn’t afford adoption on my salary! I prayed and told the Lord how impossible that it was. (Remember Sarah in the Bible? lol)

Then, I joined a Christian Single Parents Group online, to mainly converse with people who understood what it mean to be a single parent and a Christian. I met a man there, who knew my every thought and almost could tell what I was thinking before I thought it! We were married three months after we met and I couldn’t be happier. Oh, and guess what? He was divorced with a daughter and a son. Hmmmmmmmmmm.

God does things in HIS time … we just have to remember that HE is in control…not us !

Then.. for some reason… when our son was 20… my ex decided to make contact with him. Thru a series of coincidences, that I never thought I’d see, we have been able to come to peace with our past. We can actually communicate without hatred. Most of the time. Honestly, I had rather never talk to him, but that’s my humanity. I don’t hate him. I don’t. I’d rather ignore him, though.

All I can say is that miracles do indeed happen. I never thought we’d ever hear from him, ever. It’s been a long road, to come from the hurt and pain from where I was, to the peace that I feel right now. I owe it all completely to God. I know that I share my life with the man that God gave me. I have no doubts whatsoever that God designed our marriage. We’ve been married 15 years and we have NEVER had one argument. Not one. We laugh about it. We’ve disagreed, but we’ve never argued.
I am so blessed to know that peace, because I know how close I came to losing it completely and forever. Thank You, Father, for all that You have Blessed me with.

Following the Path of my Ancestors

I have recently been out of town for a week, travelling and visiting friends as well as family. I also got the privilege of touring two state parks along the way, and to visit the Cahokia Mounds in IL as well as the Wickliffe Mounds in KY. It was very interesting, and a bit spiritual for me, as I have American Indian Ancestry  through  several lines of my family.
As a child, I would often visit Shiloh, TN with my family. I remember being so connected to those mounds there; without even knowing my ancestry, really. Now, that I do know my ancestry, the memories are even more poignant. Walking the old ” Indian Trail” with my Dad used to mean so much to me. I wasn’t really aware of anything “spiritual” except for the complete and utter quietness of the walk; disturbed only by the occasional chatter of the squirrels, and the chirping of gossiping birds.
Were my Ancestors calling me to follow their path?  Is that  even a possiblity, you may ask?  As an adult, I am very aware that there is much to this world that we will never know. I do believe that my ancestors are an integral part of my being. That because of them, I am who I am. Their blood courses through my being, and I do owe them my respect. I may, or may not, agree with their choices; as their descendant, I choose to believe that they did the best that they knew how to. Under any and all extreme circumstances that I have no possible knowledge of.
So, in retrospect, I suppose that I believe my Ancestors have called me to follow them. At least, in the sense that I am the “storyteller” of my generation. To remember them, to acknowledge their existence and to pass along their stories. As much as I can, anyway. Who else will tell their stories? Who else will remember them? To acknowledge them:  to know, that yes, they lived. They had lives, loves, and stories of their own. Someone has to carry thier memories. Someone has to tell their stories. So that all will know that they were here, walking these lands, before us. One day, perhaps, someone else will attempt to tell my story. I hope that the journey  I take  is worth the telling.

Genealogy ~ a treasure of stories & legends

I grew up hearing  stories  from my dad  about his family.  The little  that  he knew of them, he loved telling.   Some of my earliest memories  involved begging him to  tell me of  the grandparents I never  got to meet. Death came way  too soon for them both. My grandmother was only 28 when tuberculosis  claimed her life, my grandfather was  killed in a logging accident  two months before his 53rd  birthday.   I would listen in fascination about family I never  got to meet.

After  becoming an adult, I was determined  to  try and find out  about my dad’s family.  He never  got  to  meet any of his dad’s family. So, I was determined to help him find them. I started  going to the library with what littel information I had. I was ablr to find out quite a bit  about my grandmother’s family in Arkansas. My grandfather’s family, not so much luck. I did  discover the paternal line,but nothing  about  my great grandmother.  Then… along came the internet!!! 

I almost wept when I  FINALLY  found my great grandmother’s family  in Alabama. I have been able to talk to different cousins along the way, hearing their stories.It  has been  so much fun to reconnect with ones I haven’t seen  in years, and to find new ones as well. I spoke to a cousin  a few years ago that still had the spinning wheel  my great great grandfather  bought my great great grandmother. The  story  states he paid  about $5  for it back  in the late 1800’s.

I  have collected over 13,000 names  in my family tree. It  has taken me ove 20 years, and I still am researching  my sources. But, I  finally know where I came  from. I  can leave my children with that knowledege, if they ever  become interested in it. It has truly been a treasure hunt  that  I will probably never completely  end.

Another day closer……

 My nephew  is about to head to Iraq. He leaves in Feb. We all knew it was coming, like so many other families. Actually being prepared…..  a very different  story. I don’t  get to see much of my family, anyway, since we  moved to the  Midwest.  I speak to them ( my sisters and parents) almost every day, though.  I cannot imagine what my sister must  be feeling, or in fact, what my nephew feels.  My  family has always been a military family, my grandfather was in WWI, my uncle in WWII,  my dad in the Korean conflict, my cousin in Vietnam, my brother-in-law, as well as my husband, fought in the  Gulf War.  I remember  watching the action during the Gulf  War…  I never thought  my nephew would be  in the same area  a few short years  later. I know our family  is not alone in facing our fears, and our concern, for all our kids over there.  I  just wish  they could  ALL  come home.   I will respect the  military as long as I live, but, that doesn’t negate the fact that sometimes I wonder why they are still over there. I’m a mom… I am allowed to think that !    I just  imagine  how I would feel if it was one of mine ( and  since I helped raise my nephew, I feel like  he is mine). My own son worked ( non-miltary) in Korea  and China  for over two   years. That  was  hard enough, knowing  I could not get there  if he needed   me.   Finances  have a way  of stopping that.  But, going to a war is  very very different.  All  we can  do is pray that our kids return home safely…….. everyday…..  God Bless  all  of you who  are connected in anyw ay to all branches  of our military…. God  keep  you safe. You  ARE  our heroes.

Hello, Everyone!

Hi, and  welcome to my   little  corner   of the world !     Since  I am in the process of publishing a recipe book…. I ‘ll share a recipe. I have collected over 200  recipes from  family, and I will make sure they get any credit 🙂