Thursday, September 30, 2010

The Day I Died...

This is my first September 30th, without my Gordon.  Lord, help me, please...

At about 3:40 pm, on September 30th, 1980, I was driving the school bus in the photograph above in Malton area of Mississauga with 53 children on board.  In addition, I had my four (4) year old daughter P, on the bus with me.

After the precious cargo had been dropped off, P and I made our way north up Airport Rd., turned west onto Clark Blvd. and was heading to park my bus at Bramalea City Centre parking lot, where my car was waiting for me.

P attended junior kindergarten in the mornings and came with me on the bus in the afternoons.  Usually, she would have been sleeping on the seat immediately behind my driver's seat.  But, today was different.  She was awake and asked me if she could stand up and look out the window, for when she was seated, she couldn't see outside.

I let P know that it wasn't safe for her to stand up in the bus.  She was so convincing when she pleaded with me, claiming she wouldn't run around the bus like the kids do, if I let her stand up, that I gave her permission, as long as she held onto the rubber/foam-wrapped bar that separated the driver's area from the passenger area.  P did exactly as agreed.

The area was not as built up as it is today.  At the time, there were no stoplights at the intersection of Walker Dr., having instead, a stop sign for traffic approaching Clark Blvd from Walker.  I could see to my right, there was a truck coming rather quickly south on Walker.  It was 3:45 pm.

When I realized it wasn't slowing down and wasn't going to stop at the stop sign, I told P to hold on and don't let go!  I geared down and tried everything in my power to stop the bus.  The last thing I did was to cry out to Jesus to help P.  Anyone familiar with school buses, knows there are no seatbelts for passengers.

The truck entered the intersection, clipping off most of the front end of my bus and continued on through the intersection, narrowly missing hitting another school bus travelling on Clark Blvd. in the opposite direction (heading east), still filled with children.  As a side note, I will let you know that driver of the other school bus came to visit me during my recovery, letting me know that the police told her that if the truck hadn't hit my bus first, he would have broadsided her bus; many children would have probably died.

As the truck hit my bus, the driver M.D., turned his head towards me; his eyes grew like saucers, looking quite shocked upon impact.  This haunted me, for months.

My seatbelt saved my life, for it stopped me from being thrown out of the bus, either through the windshield or the side door.  I was thrown about like a rag doll, even though I had the steering wheel to hold onto.  My chest broke the steering wheel, my head broke the windshield and I was thrown out of my seat.  The seatbelt retractor spring broke, but the seatbelt remained done up.  Twisted about, I landed on my right side, with the seatbelt still done up, after hitting the gearshift, bashing my knee, breaking toes, hitting my neck/shoulder area on the upright bar/standard and more.

People were trying to break the door in, to get us out, because the bus was on fire.  After getting my wits about me, it took all my energy just to push the button to unhook my seatbelt.  (As another side note, I would not have wanted to try to unhook up to 72 seatbelts had the bus been equipped with them, for I believe I did not have the physical strength to do so, and with the bus being on fire, the gas tank that runs down underneath the aisle could have blown up, before I could have accomplished it.  Therefore, I am not in favour of seatbelts in school buses.)  I managed to get myself up and help open the door.

Not hearing a sound, my thoughts were that P had been thrown out of the bus.  After all, I had protection and was thrown about, because the force of impact was so strong that I could not hold on, to even the steering wheel.  P was only a tiny child, with no seatbelt or any other type of manmade protection to keep her in the bus.  I turned to where I had last known she was standing, fully expecting to see emptiness where she had previously stood.  There she was!  Holding on to the bar, so tightly that when I peeled her fingers up off the bar, one by one, there were marks in the rubber/foam.  I knew immediately I had received a miracle, or maybe I should say P received a miracle.  More about this, shortly.

The people assisting at the scene, grabbed P and I, whisking us to a nearby car that backed down Walker Dr., to get away from the intersection to be safe, for the bus was on fire; they were afraid the bus might blow up. 

One man held P, so she could not see the bus, for he wanted to shelter her and keep her from being any more frightened than she already was.  P was actually in shock, for she never spoke a word.

Another man held me in his arms, with me facing him, so I also would not be able to have much of a view of the bus on fire, but I had already seen it.  It will be ingrained in my mind's eye, forever; unless God removes it.

By the time the ambulance arrived to take P and I to Peel Memorial Hospital in Brampton, I could not lift my head from my chest.  I had shoulder problems, whiplash, experienced back pain, pain from my bashed up chest, an injured knee, broken toes and more.  My head hurt like blazes.  But, I was alive.  Sort of.

While I may have survived the collision with my physical life, I was never the same person, for truly I died that day and was replaced with someone else.  Someone very foreign to my children and Gordon.

P was a different story.  As I mentioned previously, she/I received a miracle from God that day.  The people who assisted at the scene told me they saw her short, little legs swing up towards the ceiling of the bus, on impact; then, they came crashing down.  She had a bruise just below her throat, caused from her body hitting the bar when everything came to a stop.  Although, she did suffer headaches for years even unto adulthood, chiropractic treatment helped.

A small child her age and weight, could not have possibly held on to that bar, without help from somewhere.  P had no earthly protection.  No seatbelt, no steering wheel to hold onto, like I had, yet she had only minor injury, comparatively physically speaking.  With no earthly protection, it told me that the loving arms of Jesus held her in the vehicle, protecting her from sure physical death.  Anyone who thinks miracles do not happen in this day and age, should reconsider.  With no earthly explanation, this was truly a miracle from God.  I praise God and thank Jesus, for physically saving my child.

In addition to our miracle, there were many more that day, too.  For you see, God prevented the children in the other bus from being injured or killed.  Those children went home that night to parents, who had no idea their children had come within inches of injury or death.  I believe that all involved in that bus, and their families received a miracle that day.

Even though I have suffered all these years, from the repercussions of the injuries I received that day and from treatment I received that caused me more harm, I can honestly tell you that now, I am glad God used me as a sacrifice to save those children from harm or death. 

God used me in a special way, even though at the time, I was not in fellowship, walking with the Lord.  He continues to use me, for He gave me this testimoney of His goodness.  I make sure I tell everyone of His divine love.

Until next time...

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Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Is About...

If you read yesterday's entry, you'll have read about what I was like before the collision I was involved in, September 30, 1980.

Today, I'd like to tell you about what I was like, afterwards.  If you're thinking I was the same person, please think again.  I wasn't; I'm not, even now.  My whole life changed, in the blink of an eye.

You need to know that prior to my driving the school bus and being hit by a tractor-trailer driver, Gordon had been my boyfriend.  Although he lived in Mississauga and Brampton areas after his divorce, he made the decision to move back to his home town, Windsor.  He thought it might be easier for him to get back on track with his only child, his son who had finally come to live with him. 

Gordon kept in touch with me, daily.  He knew I had sold my townhome, because I was afraid I might lose my home if interest rates went any higher; my plan was to rent until rates dropped, again.  Meanwhile, he wanted to make our relationship more permanent, wanting me to move to Windsor, with my daughters.  I told him I couldn't do that.  Between packing up to move, I was looking at rental housing.  At least, until the bus collision occurred.

As you will read in tomorrow's entry, I suffered great non-life-threatening injury, to many parts of my body and still suffer even 30 years later.  I have no intention of going into detail right now, but it is enough to let you know that even nine (9) years after the collision, I was receiving medical treatment.  In addition to other injuries resulting from the collision, I had a crushed jaw, for which I required two (2) surgeries to correct; I have four (4) screws and many pins in my face.

In addition to being left permanently partially-disabled with physical limitations, I contracted a rare form of Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA), called Ankylosing Spondylitis (AS), from which I have had the complication of Iritis, causing a condition of Secondary Glaucoma; I have almost lost my eye from this and have had eye surgery to regain lost vision.  A diagnostic specialist in London, Ontario, told me that if I hadn't had an injury that affected my spine, the AS may never have been activated and may have lived my whole life without complication.  This too, is another story for another time.  I will say that I will never again be the person I once was.  I suffered, greatly; in many ways.

An important thing to know is that Gordon loved me enough to come take care of me, finish packing up my household goods and move me to Windsor.  That was truly a lot of love, especially under the circumstances.  It would have been so easy for him to have walked away from me and all my newly acquired health concerns and problems, but he didn't.

At this time I won't go into any more detail about the heartaches, pain, suffering and sorrow that I and my family experienced, but I will tell you this:  my life became a living hell.

Burdened with children who were drastically affected by the results of the collision, loss of income and a whole bunch of other problems, life became increasingly difficult to say the least.  Consequently, family problems resulted in my family being torn apart, within a few years.

Going to court over the collision was no picnic, either.  The driver, M.D., of T. Transport, fought the charge of failing to stop.  In court, he tried to blame the collision on me.  In the end, he was convicted and received a $56.00 fine and some points.

Afterwards, out in the hallway, he approached me and my friend P, who had accompanied me to court that day, apologizing to me.  M.D. claimed he didn't see my bus.  I asked him how he could possibly miss a 44' (foot) long yellow and black bus, for that's why they make school buses those colours.  He replied that he had been taking wake up pills, because he had been awake over 30 hours...and...he had only stopped for two (2) or three (3) beers. 

I believe he was trying to clear his conscience by telling me the truth and admitting he didn't see my bus, or the stop sign, or the other bus and traffic in/about the intersection, because he passed out.  The trouble was, I became emotionally burdened by his confession of guilt.

Amazing, isn't it?  The truck driver admitted breaking the law by taking pills, driving too much, having not enough sleep and driving after drinking.  Did you know that because he had taken those pills, every beer he drank was like the equivalent of having three (3)?  I found out.  Because, many years later, in the later 1980's, I became a member of Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD), here in Windsor.

Even more amazing, was that when I questioned the police after being enlightened by the driver, why they had not breathalysed him at the scene, I was told by one of the officers who attended the scene of the collision, that these poor truckers work hard and long hours.  In other words, they pitied him.

The bus company got a new bus.  The insurance replaced the truck, too.  The admittedly drunk/drugged driver wasn't injured, because he had passed out, awaking only as is truck hit my bus; hence, the saucer-like look of his eyes, I viewed upon impact.  I didn't receive a new body, nor did I have my life restored.

Believe me, I could write a book about not only this experience, but about the abuse that followed me, even to this day, for I did not have the right to sue the truck driver, nor his employer, because we were both listed under the same driving schedule and were both eligible for Workers Compensation (WCB), now known as Workers Safety Insurance Board (WSIB).  It's interesting to note that WCB doctors claimed I was okay to do any kind of work, even though I believed I was not; I suffered another injury (to my back) while employed at my next job, complicating life, beyond belief.

Even P did not have the right to sue, because the insurance company claimed that even though the bus companies allow and in some cases encourage drivers who have young children to bring them on the job (some even install car seats), she wasn't legally allowed to be on the bus.  (Take note of this, you school bus drivers out there!)

My benefits were limited to only part of my lost income from this one job, and not for loss of earnings from all my jobs.  And, even though I should have been pensioned, to this day, I have not received a pension from this collision; they claim I fell through the cracks of the system and even years ago, they wouldn't change it.  There is more to this story, but I cannot go into it, now.

Even though I will never be again the person I once was, I am thankful that God loved me, provided for me and continues to provide for me.  I am thankful for Gordon, for loving me enough to not walk away from me.

Where would I be without Jesus?!

Until next time...

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Tuesday, September 28, 2010


Three hours sleep or less, is what I managed to have last night.  It seems no matter what I do, I climb into bed and it begins.  As I've mentioned, I seem to wake right up, especially if I turn to look at Gordon's side of the bed.  The emptiness overwhelms me.  Usually, I begin to cry.  Once tears flow, I'm done.  Last night I didn't get to sleep until after 5:00 am.  My alarm went off at 8:00 am.  There is no other way of saying this:  I am absolutely exhausted.

Before I forget, I would like to take a moment and thank my friend J, who made some homemade potato soup and brought me some.  I had some; it was delicious!  Thank you, J.  I'm blessed!

As I've mentioned in the past, I've experienced many serious trials in my life.  Even though Gordon only died last October, at this time of the year I am usually upset, for a different reason:  September 30th is coming.

If you have been a regular reader or if you know me personally, you will know that my whole life changed September 30th, 1980.  This was the day when I was driving a school bus and was hit by a tractor-trailer driver.

Just so you know, I have no intention of writing about every trial I have experienced in my life.  lol  I thought you'd be glad to hear that. 

There is truly a reason for me writing about this trial, just as there was a reason for me writing about my traumatic childhood trial.  It really will come together.  Hopefully, you'll bear with me and be patient.

However, I would like to tell you about what I was like and what my life was about, before my life changed that fateful day.

Where once I had been a timid, but not a shy person, I had grown into being a forthright, independent young woman.  Divorced in 1978, with two (2) daughters to raise, I had purchased a townhome in Bramalea.

I was an active person of normal weight, for after my youngest daughter was born, I lost all my extra weight.  In fact, I can tell you I weighed 119 lbs. 

While once upon a time, I had been employed at full-time jobs; after divorcing, I had opted to work three (3) part-time jobs, instead.  Where I normally worked in accounting or in one case, in a drafting department of a steel structural firm, I found myself working at a variety of positions.

Since my ex-husband had been an accountant and since we together had worked for small businesses, we continued to do so.  I did the bookkeeping and payroll; he did the financial statements and taxes.

Where once I had been so timid that I just could not stand up and speak to even a small group of people, I found I had blossomed into a young woman who not only had to stand up and talk to women at home parties, but since I had also had training in skincare and make-up artistry, I was able to combine my home party cosmetic sales (as a manager), with my ability to do women's make-up for weddings and other occasions, sometimes making as many as 16 or more women beautiful, usually on Saturdays, when most weddings were planned for and when my daughters were with their Dad.

The third (3rd) job I had was driving a school bus.  Usually, I transported children in the Malton (Mississauga) or Brampton areas, but there were times when I drove in the Toronto areas, even downtown on occasion.

Working these part-time jobs enabled me to create about the same or better income than I would have earned working one full-time job.  There was an added benefit though.  I didn't require as much daycare.  This allowed me to spend more time with my youngest daughter, who was still four (4) years old at the time.

In 1980, I had been interviewed by a local newspaper and I received my 15 minutes of fame on Global Television.  Both were because I had collected names for petition against the extremely high interest rates of the day.  In case you need your memory refreshed, or in case you are too young to recall, interest rates were ranging between about 19% - 24%.  A far cry from what current mortgage interest rates are today!  Today, I call it cheap money!

Between my children's activities and needs, plus my own personal activities, I was a very busy 27 year old.  I bowled on two (2) adult bowling leagues (one [1]during the day in my free-time and one [1]in the evening), roller skated once (1 x) weekly, did pool exercise twice (2 x) weekly and worked out doing floor exercises at a local recreation centre twice (2 x) weekly.

Gordon was my boyfriend at that time; he too had been divorced.  Once he was once again able to have access to his son (that's a whole other story), we used to do activities together, with all our children, whenever we could. 

We rode bikes and did a myriad of activities whenever we could.  I can recall doing batting practice with our children, with each of us taking turns at bat.  The children thought I wouldn't be able to hit the ball, but I surprised them with being able to smack that ball way past them all! :-))

So, there you have it.  I was a force to be reconded with, for I had changed from an insecure, fearful, timid mouse, into an active, confident young woman, who knew I could do almost anything I set my mind to.

More information will follow, tomorrow.  Thank you for reading.  Blessings...

Until next time...

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Monday, September 27, 2010

Quality Time!

Sleep didn't come naturally last night.  It was once again, one of those nights when I just could not get to sleep.  It doesn't seem to matter how tired I am, I climb into bed and voila!  My eyes are open, alert and awake!  About 3:45 am, I decided I would not look at the clock, hoping that might relax me enough to doze off.  Truly, I'm not sure exactly when I drifted off, but I can tell you this:  every time I turned over, I woke up.  When my alarm went off, I was exhausted once more, but I got myself up and began my day.

Of course, I always try to put work before pleasure, so I did what I needed to do, made calls, posted new photos on a listing of mine, called my real estate board, etc., etc., etc.

In between tasks, I did some of my in-apartment exercise.  By the time I completed all my real estate work for the morning, I had also completed my exercise for the day.  Well, at least until this evening, when I plan to work out once again, in the gym, downstairs.

Planning my time is always the hardest thing to do.  Anyone self-employed knows this.  Especially when you don't receive a paycheque for all the time and tasks you must do.  Yes, I must say that time management is crucial.

While I was preparing to leave home to meet my friend A, for lunch at Pat & Hank's, I looked at the clock and thought to myself about how time flies.  At first, I thought I would be late, but I arrived just on time.  A arrived only a couple of minutes ahead of me.  Praise God!  Thank You, Jesus!  Your timing is always perfect, especially when I pray and rely on You to provide.

Hopefully, A enjoyed our time together as much as I did.  The fellowship was wonderful, as were our meals.  We both brought some home with us.  Instant replays tomorrow, for sure!  This time was her treat.  Thank you, A; next time, is my turn!

Today, I found out something I didn't know.  A, who in the past has never been a real computer hound, someone who rarely sends e-mail even, let me know that she reads Life with Lynnie, daily.  At first, I was quite taken aback; in fact, you could have blown me over with a feather. 

This was shocking, to say the least.  So much so, that I was concerned about what we have to talk about, since she knew everything going on in my life, but we managed.  It's never hard to find conversation, when you're spending quality time with a friend.  No one has to tell me I'm blessed, for I know it, already. 

When we left the restaurant, I headed for home, for I had more work to do.  Funny thing about work.  It never seems to end, no matter how busy or slow it is.  There's always stuff to do!

Before leaving to see a client for a 6:00 pm appointment, I managed to do some of my Bible study programme.  I've been trying to work smarter, not harder, so I've been doing the reading, then answering the questions, not in my book, but rather by storing it on my computer.  This way, when I have time to go on Facebook (FB), I can participate by copying and pasting my info onto the FB discussion page. 

Well, how can I not participate?  After all, I am one of the administrators for the group.  Besides, I do enjoy it.  It has proven to be a blessing to me.  Thank You, Lord.

After my work appointment, I picked up my friend M, who has never previously been to my church.  Together, we met another of my friends E and shared a time of fellowship with our church's women's group.  The guest speaker was phenomenal.  I had never met this lovely Christian woman before.  I know for sure I'll look forward to hearing her speak, again.

This evening was truly a blessing to me.  Tomorrow, I'll tell you a little more about it.  In fact, my whole day today, was jam-packed, but wonderful.  Thank You, Lord!

Since it is bedtime for most people, I'll wish you pleasant dreams.

Until next time...

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Sunday, September 26, 2010

A Willing Heart...

It was about 1:00 am when I got to sleep and slept well, at least until about 4:00 am, when I woke up and could not get back to sleep.  About 6:30 am, I finally drifted off once more, but my alarm went off at 7:15 am and I was once again, awake.  Being really, really tired, I reset my alarm for about an hour and actually dozed off, again.  This broken sleep pattern needs repair.  Lord, if it is Your will, I pray You will help me to get back on track with my sleeping pattern.  I ask this in Jesus' precious name and thank you, in advance, Lord.  Amen.

Upon rising, I made myself get moving somewhat quicker than normal and off I went to the cemetary.  Knowing that this afternoon I had to work, doing an open house, I knew I wouldn't have time after church to visit the cemetary, so I went before time for worship.  At Gordon's graveside, I sat on my lawn chair, talking and crying to him and God. 

Arriving at church, I was greeted by a friend who realized I had missed last night's church anniversary dinner.  Campbell Baptist Church (CB) is now 82 years old...or young, which ever you prefer.  My friend let me know that I'd be happy hearing our guest preacher.  I was.  I'll tell you about him, in a minute.

There were a couple of reasons I didn't go to the anniversary dinner, last night.  Firstly, I was exhausted.  As you know, I haven't been sleeping well for so-o-o long, that I feel like I am just pushing myself daily, to do everything I need to do.

Earlier in the week, I backed out from going over to Dearborn, MI, USA, to hear Christian music performers Friday evening, with another single friend who attends our coffee time.  Not only was I feeling exhausted at the time, but I realized he had begun dating the other person who was going with us; I really didn't want to feel like a third (3rd) wheel.  After all, two's (2's) company, but three's a crowd!  Truly, had there been other singles planning to go, I probably would have just forced myself to get out and go do something relaxing for a change.  But, there wasn't, so I bowed out, gracefully.

After finding this out, my friend J coaxed me into going to Movie Night at Calvary Community Church.  Normally, on the last Saturday of the month, they provide popcorn and bottled water for a low-priced donation of $4.00 and you get to watch the featured movie.  Because they were expecting an extra large group this month, they decided to have Movie Night on Friday evening, in addition to their normal Saturday evening viewing.  When J found out I had cancelled going to Music Night, she agreed that she wouldn't want to feel like a third (3rd) wheel, either.  She was glad I cancelled going to USA, for she wanted me to go to Movie Night, with her!  I had recovered somewhat from my extra-busy week, so I agreed to go.

The movie was Letters to God.  It was a wonderful movie, based on a true story about a young boy battling cancer.  Unfortunately, the young lad dies.  I must admit, even though there were humerous parts, where I could relate and chuckle, all in all it was a real tear-jerker.  In fact, some people I saw there, with whom we decided we would talk after the viewing, rushed out immediately after the movie ended, just as the credits were beginning to be shown, because they just couldn't talk to anyone, with tears streaming down their faces.  In fact, one friend of mine had to exit the viewing during the movie even, for she was crying, but returned once she got calmed down.

By the time Saturday arrived, I was absolutely worn out.  I didn't go out, anywhere.  Relaxing, doing things I wanted to do, like play on FB (lol), write my blog entry early (which I posted, later that day), reading, etc. actually tied up my whole day. 

I even had time to call over to N. Ireland and speak with one of my cousins, in addition to calling my friend M in Oakville, who was celebrating her 60th birthday.  Once again M, Happy Birthday!

In the evening, I forced myself to go back down to the gym and work out, again.  Ugh!  Believe me, it's not fun; but I did it, because I know I need to do it.  I must admit, it would be so much better if all my joints didn't hurt before I go, because unlike pool exercise, I am in agony, afterwards.  God helped me through it.  Thank You, Lord!  I must admit, my body is hurting, even now.

In order to have my body rejuvenate, I know I need to get into a REM sleep mode; it doesn't happen, often.  Still, I am confident that since God is incontrol of my life, He will provide for me, when He decides it is time to do so.  Hopefully, before I collapse!  :-))

Getting back to my time at church, today, we did have a special speaker.  You may/may not have heard of Paul Edwards, depending upon whether or not you live close enough to hear his Christian talk show God and Culture, on WLQV 1500 AM, Detroit.  I've always liked Paul, but until today, had never seen him in person or heard him preach an actual sermon.

In case you aren't aware, I love hearing sermons preached by good men of God.  Paul is definitely one on my list.  His preaching was amazing.  Of course, he's had a lot of experience, for in addition to being a two-hour talk-show host, he is a pastor of a church in Michigan.  What a great speaker/preacher he is!

Apparently, Paul will be preaching once again this evening at my church.  As much as I would love to attend, I feel like I just cannot do another thing. 

Living with chronic pain, feeling completely exhausted, is not fun.  Usually, no matter what is happening, I try to ignore how I feel and push myself, because I know that I have to.  Especially when it comes to God, for His Word tells us in Matthew 6:33, "But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you." 

Unfortunately, tonight, my heart is willing, but my body is not able.  Blessings to you...

By the way, I haven't forgotten about WHY I wrote about my traumatic childhood experience.  I'll get to it!

Until next time...

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Saturday, September 25, 2010


It may sound like I slept in today, since I awoke about 10:15 am, but even though I arose at a late hour, I only had about four and one half (4 1/2) hours sleep.  You see, about 5:45 am, I finally decided to not look at the clock, again.  Well, at least until I awoke!

Previously, I promised to continue telling you about my traumatic, childhood devastating incident.  Well, as you know my parents reconciled, we moved back to the house in Clarkson (today = Mississauga) and life just sort of carried on.  At least for my parents.

Until the day they died, I don't believe either of my parents understood how traumatized I had been by what happened.  Let's face it, how many twelve (12) year old girls do you know who suffered family problems that included being abandoned by a parent, being held against my will for close to a week and a half, plus the terror that I experienced, being threatened to not tell the truth to anyone, not to mention having to pretend everything was okay in an effort to shelter my younger sick brother, who I cared for?

To everyone in my family, except me, life just went on, as I said.  My older brother B, as you know was in the Canadian Army; he went to Germany for about 2-3 years.  Glenn, who had been sick during the time of the incident, recalled somewhat things that had happened, but for the most part, didn't know anything about how I had been terrorized and treated with hate by our Dad, or how we had been abandoned by our Mom, for he had been in bed, sick with fever.

I developed health problems, which I won't go into, here.  It's enough to say that I finally did tell one doctor about what I had experienced.  She told me that I had a case of 'bad nerves'; that all my health problems that had arisen were as a result of the traumatizing experience I had endured.

As Gordon said to me many years later, when I told him about my experience, it was no wonder that I experienced an awful teenage life.  After all, my Dad knew how he had treated me physically and emotionally.  My Mom knew how she had abandoned me and my sick brother, leaving me to be terrorized by an unstable person, even if he was my Dad.  Gordon felt that every time they looked at me, I was a reminder of the horrid past they hoped to forget.

As an adult, I came to know there was more to the story about why my Dad seemed to hate me, but I won't go into that, at this time.

Yes, I was a troubled teen.  You may have read many months ago, that I ran away from home three (3) times, including once when I lived with my Brampton friend M and her family for a few months, next door to where the terrorizing experience happened.  I must admit, I was a sick pup for quite a while, emotionally.  I carried around a lot of stress, to say the least.

At about 17 (not quite 18) years of age, I was hospitalized.  I had been sick at home for several days beforehand.  The emergency room doctor asked me if I had taken drugs or anything, to which I replied I hadn't.  Had I not been so sick, I think I would have walked out, I was so disgusted even being asked this.

I was given a pill to swallow, which I immediately vomited.  That's when I passed out.  About a week later, I woke up to a nurse looking into my eyes with a flashlight, checking to see if I would respond.  A subsequent EEG determined I had experienced a severe migraine.  Confirmation I had frequent, severe headaches, to be sure!

It would be an understatement to say I had a poor self-image.  I honestly believed no one could love me.  I just wasn't loveable. 

Oh, I'm not saying there weren't fellas in my life, for at times I seemed to attract guys like a magnet.  But, no one had to tell me that they were only attracted to me physically, because I knew no one could love me.

After leaving school, I went to work.  At my first place of full-time employment, I met an Irish fellow who I fell for, head over heels.  He told me he had broken up with his girlfriend who he had left behind in Dublin.  We had a wonderful time together.  We even went to Niagara Falls, NY, USA to visit my Irish Grandmother's sister and her family, for he wanted to meet them.

It didn't last long though, for I found out later from a co-worker, that he was engaged to his Irish girlfriend and was actually preparing to fly home to marry her.  I was heartbroken.

After this, I applied for work at other places and was hired at another firm.  This is where I met my future husband.  I suppose you could say...on the rebound.

Unlike other fellas, he didn't really chase me.  Well, at least not at first.  He was my supervisor; my desk was directly behind his.  I can recall feeling pain from being heartbroken by my Irish love and looking at him, thinking how stable he seemed.  Nice, polite, etc.  I thought no one like him would ever want someone like me.

Since I had to have all my accounting work completed by 2:00 pm daily, I had time to spare, until my quitting time of 4:30 pm.  Although I was allowed to read a book, if I so desired or just relax, I found this rather boring, so I used to volunteer to help out in other departments.

Consequently, I met many people.  One person told me that my supervisor liked me and wanted to ask me out, but he was too shy to ask.  He was much older than I (18), being 25 at the time and he had never been out on a date.  I was floored, but I let the person know that I would indeed go out with him, if he asked.

It wasn't long before he asked me out.  In fact, even though he professed love for me almost immediately, he never made physical advances towards me.  I took this as a sign that what he felt for me was true love, for it seemed as though he even avoided dating until he found the right girl.  I was wrong, but at the time, I didn't know this.

In any case, once upper management found out we were dating, we were told we would have to stop seeing each other or I would have to finish working there, for they didn't allow relationships or married people to work together; he proposed marriage to me.  I accepted.  And, found another job.

Sound romantic?  At the time, I thought so.  We had only known each other a few months when we married.  By the time we were married a few days, I knew I had made a mistake. 

We couldn't afford a honeymoon and lived with his family, which consisted of his parents, sister and her husband and their child, plus a cousin of his.  I won't go into details, but I came to realize that he didn't really love me, at all. 

Even at that early stage of our marriage, my husband made it clear that his parents came first, then his other family, then somewhere at the bottom of the list, I fit in.  Still, I was committed to the marriage. 

I recall telling my husband about my traumatic experience, before we were married, letting him know that I might tolerate a lot, but I wouldn't tolerate being abused physically or treated poorly otherwise, claiming that if he ever hurt me, I would stop loving him and leave the marriage.  Can you tell that even though I loved Jesus, I wasn't walking with Him...or truly knew what God's Word had to say about marriage?

As I said, I won't go into detail, but it is enough to say that the marriage ended in divorce.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again:  Love?  There hasn't been much love in this life, for me.  I am grateful that today I know Jesus loves me.  Thank You, Lord!

Until next time...

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Friday, September 24, 2010

Time for Prayer...

Sleep, glorious sleep!  While I went to bed late last night, about 2:00 am, I had six (6) hours sleep last night.  Thank You, Lord!

Yesterday, I said there was more to the traumatic incident; there is.  I said I would continue writing about it; I will, but not today. 

It's been quite a while since I wrote about my daily life, so I thought I would do this, today.

One reason I want to write about my week, is because I would like to ask for prayer for Pastor B.  Not my Pastor from my church, but the Pastor from the small, intimate group where I at times worship in addition to my own church.

Last Friday, Pastor B was out doing his normal, daily running exercise and had a devastating thing happen.  Apparently, in the past, while running, he has experienced some breathing problem, where all of a sudden, he feels shortness of breath, feels like he will pass out and has to stop running.  Friday, he had one of those episides.  Instead of being able to stop running, Pastor B blacked out.  He awoke, seeing a stranger hovering over him.

Pastor B went to the hospital, was admitted.  He's pretty beaten up, with scabs forming all over his face, a couple broken teeth and one tooth that he is on the verge of losing.  At first, they thought he might have a lung problem.  Both my daughter P and I talked with Pastor B, letting him know that P's son S, who has a heart problem, has experienced the same type of incident.

My grandson S, has an extra sensor in his heart and will require surgery for it, once he's old enough.  He was born prematurely by caesarean section, because his heart rate was more than double what it should have been.  The doctor knew S could not survive a regular birth, hence the surgery.

As I've mentioned in the past, the hospital here in Windsor could not get S's heart rate under control, so he was transferred to London, Ontario, where he received care from a pediatric heart specialist.  After a few weeks, his heart rate was finally under control.

Because P is aware and monitor's S's heart rate, things have been relatively stable.  We suggested to Pastor B, that he may have a similar problem and not be aware of it.  Maybe not an extra sensor, but he may have a problem causing his heart to race, without him being aware of it.

Let's face it, if you lead a sedentary lifestyle, you would notice if your heart rate increased.  However, if you are active, as Pastor B is, and do regular exercise, you might not even notice it, because when a person exercises, their heart rate usually does increase.

Anyway, P and I found out on Sunday that Pastor B was in hospital.  Monday, I couldn't reach him.  Tuesday, I spoke with him by telephone.  Wednesday, P and I went to visit him in hospital. 

During our visit, we found out that Pastor B will be having a stress test, because that will be the only way of finding out if our presumption is correct, regarding his heart.

Pastor B is now home from hospital.  I would appreciate any/all prayer you would be willing to give for him.  He's a Godly man, who is working hard, planting his third (3rd) church, here in Windsor.  I appreciate any/all prayer you will offer.  I'm sure he will appreciate it, also.  May God bless you.

As for work, this week I have been run off my feet.  Some productive, but some not.  Time tells all.  Still, it doesn't change the fact that I was rushed off my feet!  I'm exhaused!

To make matters worse, I am missing working out in the pool; it's closed for the season.  Yesterday, I checked out two (2) fitness locations that had pools.  I'm not thrilled. 

One had salt-water pools.  I realize salt-water pools are the latest trend, but I'm not convinced they are good for those with high blood pressure.  After all, anyone with high bloodpressure is supposed to cut down on their salt intake.  Why on earth would I want to immerse myself into salt-water on a regular basis, knowing that my body will absorb some of the salt?!  In addition, knowing that any fluid, lotion or cream can affect the fluid around my eye and knowing I've had a lens implant and battle inflammation in my eye, I am rather nervous about even trying out a salt-water pool, not knowing how the water will affect my eye.  I've already battled losing my eye on several occasions, have been under treatment for many years and probably will be for the rest of my life.  I'm not sure I want to risk my health, just giving it a try.

So, I went to another fitness location where they had a regular pool.  It was almost time for an aquafitness session, so there were two (2) women already in the pool, plus one entering the pool.  The woman entering the pool was shivering, trying to get herself into the water.  I asked if the water felt cold; she said it did.  The other women said it was only cold getting into the pool; once you were in, it was fine.

Oh great!  It's only September.  If it is cold now, how cold will it be during the winter months?  Again, I don't mean to sound like I'm complaining, because I'm not; I'm just stating facts.  Being Rheumatoid Arthritic, that led to my eye condition in the first place, I am not supposed to go into cold pools.  Great!

Please pray that God will provide just the right place for me to continue getting the pool exercise that has helped me tremendously, this past few months.  As you know, until I had some new treatment last year, I couldn't work out for more than a few minutes, whereas since the treatment gave me more mobility and lowered my pain level, I have been able to work out more extensively.  I am aware that I have become stronger, but that strength won't continue, if I don't continue working out.

I still do my in-apartment exercise and have even increased it, but I know that it won't replace my pool exercise.  So, last night, I did something I probably shouldn't have done.  I went downstairs to the gym and did exercise I shouldn't have done. 

Before I went, I thought my joints and body was in pain, due to not working out and the weather change, but believe me, it's nothing like I felt afterwards last evening and all day, today!

For anyone who isn't aware, it's not easy living with physical limitations.  Nor is easy living with chronic pain.  Even this, I've had to give a lot of forgiveness for.  Of course, this is a story for another time; shortly, I believe, after I've finished writing about my childhood (family) incident.

Thank you for reading.  Blessings...

Until next time...

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Thursday, September 23, 2010

Mixed Emotions...

Oooo...eeeeee!  By the time my head hit the pillow last night, I was so exhausted, I slept for about seven (7) hours.  Thank You, Lord!

If you read yesterday's entry, you'll know that eventually, my parents reconciled and we moved home.   Other than M & J, our British neighbours who my Mom stayed with at the beginning of this ordeal, all neighbours and friends were told we visited family, without my Dad, because he had to work.

This was easy to do, since it was summertime.

Of course, September came.  With it, came the promise of a new addition to our family.  My Dad had calmed down, agreeing to not make my Mom give up the baby for adoption.

As I wrote on an earlier entry, my parents attended my Aunt Lily and Uncle Don's wedding and reception the day before my Mom's 40th birthday.  Whether she danced hoping to bring on labour, I really cannot say.  I just know that early the next morning my Mom was in labour.

Mom's water broke.  Dad was yelling to hurry up, stop doing things around the house and get into the car, for he was driving Mom to the Peel Memorial Hospital, Brampton.  Eventually, they left for the hospital.  At the time, not only were children under 14 years of age not permitted to visit at the hospital (things are so very different, now), but I had to stay home and take care of my little brother, Glenn.

About a half (1/2) hour later, the hospital phoned our home, giving me a message to tell my Dad that the baby was a girl.  What a 40th birthday present!

This was both shocking and heartwarming all at the same time.  Happiness and sadness was partly the feelings I had.  Happy that I had a baby sister; sad, wondering what would happen, next.  As I said, I had left over feelings of stress, anxiety, and so much more, for so very long afterwards, even into adulthood.

Of course, some questions I had were:  Why would I have to pass along a message to my DadWasn't he there with my MomIf not, where was he?

As to where my Dad was, I never did find out.  A little while later, he returned home.  I found out that my Dad had dropped my Mom at the hospital Emergency Room door; apparently, he never even entered the hospital with my Mom.  Within minutes afterwards, Mom had delivered my sister, S.

Thinking things would be okay, because my Dad didn't go ballistic again, I asked if I could tell my friend next door M, about my baby sister being born.  I was given permission. 

At first, my friend didn't believe me, nor did her family or most other people.  The reason was because no one knew Mom was even expecting.  As I mentioned, Mom was a heavy-set person, who had been trying to lose weight.  She never even had to buy maternity clothes, for she never outgrew her normal clothing.  She had never looked pregnant.  Amazing, wouldn't you say?!

After my Mom came home from the hospital with my baby sister, of course people then came to realize that I had been telling the truth.

My baby sister S, became the apple of my Mom and Dad's eyes.  To me, this was truly amazing, especially since my Dad had never wanted us children.  One thing my Dad had agreed to do, upon reconciling with my Mom, was to move back to Clarkson (today it is part of Mississauga).  Yes, we owned a house there, too.

It wasn't a case that we were well off or anything, because we truly were just an ordinary working family.  However, when my parents had sold the home in Clarkson in order to make the move and buy a home in Brampton, they had to hold a second (2nd) mortgage on the property.  The buyer later walked away from the home, creating a situation where my parents either had to redeem the property, bringing the first (1st) mortgage arrears up to date and take over possession of the home, or walk away from it, losing their investment.  Their choice had been to redeem.

The house had been left with great damage.  As a Realtor, I know today that this is fairly normal; people just don't understand that it is not just wrong to do this, but sometimes don't realize the ultimate repercussions.

In any case, I recall spending much time at the Clarkson house, helping to strip wallpaper, remove crayon writing from ceilings, and doing general cleaning, while my parents tackled the worst damages, like replacing the toilet pipe that had been sawed through and partially removed.  Ugh...

Since my parents didn't want to move during the middle of the school year, the house was rented, but it didn't work out well.

Eventually, my parents were ready for our family to move, so our Brampton home went on the market and was sold.  Moving day came.  It was sad leaving Brampton and my friends.  It was sad when I realized that my 'old' friends from Clarkson, had found 'new' friends, but God provided; I joined in with my 'old' friends crowd, so all became 'new' friends, to me.

Just as a side note, you might find it interesting to note that we moved a lot, when I was a child.  In total, I attended eight (8) schools, by the time I was ready to leave school and go to work.  lol  I know what it's like to not have roots in your life.  I know what it is like to move, leave good friends, continually make new friends and have to assimilate into a new environment.  So, do you think being a Realtor is a good profession for me?

Believe it or not, there is a reason I have written about this; it continues.  Thank you for being patient. 

Until next time...

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Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Oh Brother! Vacation?

It would be really nice, if I could just settle down into a proper pattern for sleep.  Last night, I was asleep by about 1:00 am, but then a storm about 4:00 am woke me and I never did get back to sleep again, no matter how hard I tried.  Hopefully, you sleep better than I do.

Just to recap, my Mom found out she was pregnant, told my Dad, who went ballistic, abused my Mom and terrified her, until she finally walked out of our home, leaving me (about 12 years old, to take care of my sick four [4] year old brother) with my Dad, who raged, terrified me, threatened me and secured our home on his way out to work, by disconnecting our wired-in telephone and by using spikes on windows and doors that prevented me from getting out and getting help.  As you know, when my eldest brother B left our family home the original night of the trouble, he thought the incident was all over.

By the second (2nd) day following the initial evening incident, you might have thought I'd be okay, but in retrospect, I think I was in shock over the whole incident.  My brother Glenn was still very ill and broke out in rash-like spots.

My older brother B, came home.  I don't recall how B knew that Mom had left, unless she had contacted him, but I cannot really say, for sure.  However, B showed up at the house.

Confident that Dad was at work, B removed the spikes from the side door and entered.  I thought the whole ordeal was over, finally.  I thought he came to rescue me.  But, he hadn't.

B told me that Mom was staying across the street with British friends M & J.  B found the telephone where my Dad had hidden it and hooked it up, again.  We called our Mom.  He took a look at Glenn, with me and together, with Mom on the telephone, determined that Glenn probably had Chicken Pox.

However, in case we were wrong and Glenn had Measles, Mom didn't want to enter the house, being pregnant, even if she was in her last trimester.

When B left again, it was for good, for he had to return to where he was stationed with the Canadian Army.  B reminded me to not let Dad know that I knew where the telephone was, or that I knew how to use the screwdriver and hook up the telephone.  He made sure I knew how to unhook it again, and we placed it back in our parents' bedroom.  B also reminded me to not get caught.  Then, as he left, he replaced the spikes back in place.

There I was, once again, alone with my sick younger brother, in what I would call today a house of horrors.  While over the next few days, my Dad was sometimes more calm, but nasty and sometimes raging.  Quite often, he had been drinking.

In any case, life continued on like this for at least another week.  Then, one day, my Mom removed the spikes and entered our home.

Together, we packed up some clothes and Mom took Glenn and I to Scarborough, where we stayed for a few weeks with Aunt Chris and Uncle Rick.  They truly weren't blood relatives, but had been long-time friends with my parents, so out of respect, we called them Aunt and Uncle.

For sure, my Mom contacted a lawyer, for I still have in my possession a letter that had been sent to my Dad, regarding the marriage separation, etc.  However, in the end, they reconciled.  We returned home.

Again, I was sworn to secrecy about the whole ordeal.  Believe me, I was still filled with terror inside.  I was not going to disobey my parents.

When we arrived home, friends and neighbours (except for M & J) thought we had been away on vacation, visiting relatives without my Dad, for he had to work. 

To this day, I wonder what would have happened, if I had the courage to tell someone, during this ordeal.  I'm sure the result wouldn't have been good.  Maybe that's why I didn't tell anyone.  I cannot be sure, because between fear, worry and being stressed, I was truly a basket case.

Please realize.  I was not an adult.  I was a 12 year old child, thrown into the middle of a physical and emotional nightmare, responsible for a sick child of four (4) years old, living with a tyrant, who could not have cared for me, less.

Yes, there is still more.  Hang in there.  Hopefully, my ordeal hasn't bored you to tears.  It gets better.  Truly it does.

Until next time...

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Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Fear & Nails...

Five (5) hours sleep is definitely better than three (3)!  Hopefully, I'll sleep better, tonight.

When I finished blogging last night, you'll recall that my Mom left our home.  Alone.  Without me.  Without my younger brother Glenn, who was not quite five (5) years old at the time.  Please keep in mind that I was only still 12 years old and not quite 13, at the time.

Glenn had been sick in bed all that day.  His fever was raging.  Glenn never got up to even eat, for he didn't feel well, at all.  At the time of this incident, I didn't really know if Glenn knew what was happening, but for sure, later he did.

This left me alone with my Dad, who continued raging even long after my Mom walked out.  He swore at me, threatened me and insisted I make him something to eat.  Which, I did.  I thought it might calm him down, but it really didn't.

Afterwards, my Dad continued on with raging at me.  He opened a kitchen cabinet.  Picked up a glass.  Threw it down onto the floor, near where I was standing.  It smashed.  Then, he began screaming and swearing at me to sweep it up; clean it up.

I got the broom and dustpan and began sweeping it up.  Still screaming at me, telling me how much he hated me, my brothers and my Mom, he took another breakable item and did the same thing.  As I was cleaning up one mess, he created another.  And, another.  And, another.  Always near where I was standing at the time; although he never hit me directly, broken glass was flying around my feet, continually.  Until he found there was nothing breakable left in any of the kitchen cabinets.  In Dad's anger, he even managed to break a few pieces of melmac dishes; they were supposed to be virtually impossible to break, but he found a way!

All the while, as I was sweeping up the broken mess, he threatened me, claiming he would hurt me if I didn't hurry up and get the mess cleaned up.

Believe me when I tell you that even though I didn't burst into tears, I felt inside like I was dying.  Tears did stream down my face.  I recall Dad screaming at me, saying that if I didn't stop crying, he'd give me something to cry about.

I had always known my Dad didn't love me.  As a young child, about four (4) years old, I recall trying to climb up on his lap for a cuddle, but I was rebuked.  He had told me there was no way he ever wanted to cuddle with me.  Still, this night of terror was even worse than just being disregarded, for I truly did not know whether or not I would be physically hurt.  I was terrified.

When I finally climbed into bed, I couldn't sleep.  Every noise in the house made me become alert once again, for I was terrified my Dad would hurt me.  I recall thinking about God.  Why would He let this happen to me?  Would Jesus protect me?  Eventually, I drifted off.

Before my Dad left for work the next morning, he woke me up.  Mom wasn't home.  Dad told me not to leave the house.  He had disconnected the telephone, so I could not call out for help, from my Mom or anyone else.  Some of you might be old enough to remember before telephone jacks existed, our telephones had to be hard-wired into a telephone line, usually in the wall.  Of course, at the time, I didn't even know where my Mom was.

My Dad made it clear that I was to do as he told me, or else.  Else what (?), was my concern.  In the past, once again as a young child, I had experienced him beat me until I thought I would die; on that occasion, he tore up my favourite stuffed animal and threw it, along with all my other few toys into the coal furnace, when we lived in Detroit.  My Mom managed to rescue part of my stuffed rabbit, and did her best to sew it together again, but it only had one (1) ear, after that.

So, here I was, once again, wondering if I would be beaten within an inch of my life.  For sure, I was going to do what Dad told me to do.  I didn't even want to think about what the consequences of disobeying him would be.

Dad yelled at me, making it clear that I should not try to leave the house.  In fact, because he had a passion for carpentry work as a hobby, he had a myriad of tools and accessories in his workshop.  He took long spikes and nailed the windows shut, so I couldn't open them.  He nailed both the front and side doors shut from the outside, so that he could enter when he returned home from work, but I wouldn't be able to get the door open to try and leave.

Glenn, was still very sick with fever, so I bathed him in cool water.  This was when I noticed spots appearing on his body.  At first, I didn't really now what he was coming down with, but later, I found out it was Chicken Pox.

As you can see, there is more to be written about, so please bear with me and read tomorrow.  Thank you.

Until next time...

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Monday, September 20, 2010

Traumatic Experience...

Today, I found myself yawning while I was out on a business appointment; my Realtor-partner/friend C even commented on it.  Embarassing to say the least.  Then, I had to explain that I didn't get to sleep until after 5:30 am and was up about 8:30 am.  Believe me, three (3) hours sleep is not enough for anyone!

Why did I have so much trouble relaxing to get to sleep?  You can probably guess.  It was because I had been thinking of the traumatic experience I endured while my Mom was expecting my sister.  And, wondering if I should write about this, or not.  By now, I'm sure you've guessed I decided I would write about it.

In order to have you understand better, you need to know that when I was a young child, I saw what my Mom experienced when she told my Dad she was pregnant, with my baby brother Glenn, who died this past July.  At that time, we lived in a flat in Montreal.  A neighbour was concerned, because my Dad had been drinking, went ballistic, was threatening us all and was hitting my Mom. 

The neighbour called police.  I recall when my Dad spoke with the Gendarme at our front door, he stayed calm and lied, claiming the neighbour must have been confused, for the noise wasn't from our flat.  Afterwards, the abuse continued.  This was Easter Eve, 1960.  Happy Easter!

Incidents like this happened before this Montreal situation.  I recall at an even younger age, while living in Detroit, similar stuff happening.

On one occasion, I was fearful of the blood that was held in our bathtub one day; my Mom told me she had been expecting a baby, but it died/she lost it and bled.  In fact, my Mom miscarried at least twice after I was born. 

I have no doubt my Dad reacted similarly when my Mom was expecting me and/or my older brother, B.

So, you have some background.

Fast-forward:  1965.  Mom had begun to work outside our home only a short time earlier.  We lived in Brampton.  My Mom wasn't a thin woman.  She was however, trying to lose weight and couldn't understand why she wasn't, for she was trying very hard.

At one point, my Mom went to the doctor, suggesting she might be pregnant.  Being 39 years of age, the doctor suggested she may be going through the change of life; this happened more than once.  Then, she insisted on another subsequent medical appointment that she might be pregnant.  I recall my Mom laughing, telling someone that she commented to the doctor, "I didn't realize the change of life kicked!" 

By the time it was confirmed she was pregnant, my Mom was about six (6) months along in her pregnancy.

My brother B, as I commented yesterday, couldn't stand living at home and wanted out, even though he was only about 16 or so (I believe he was almost 17), years of age.  His desire led him to join the Canadian Army (RCEME).  While on leave, B came home to find his bed had been moved out of his room and was replaced with a crib, because my Mom was expecting a baby.  It was June of 1965, if my memory serves me correctly. 

My Dad went absolutely ballistic, once again.  He drank until he could hardly stand up.  And things only got worse from there.

Our livingroom couch was opened up into a bed, so my brother would have a place to sleep that night.  B never did sleep there, though.  My Dad began trying to hit my Mom.  B interceded, protecting my Mom, so Dad could not hit her.

I was standing in the upstairs hallway (backsplit-style home), just up a few stairs, looking down on the diningroom area, where my Dad was swearing and carrying on.  Just after my brother left the area, my Dad took a swing at my Mom.  She managed to avoid being hit.  Dad literally swung around in a circle, lost his balance and fell onto the opened-up couch/bed.  I recall chuckling to myself, for it did look rather funny; I wouldn't have dared laugh aloud, for fear of my life.  To my surprise, Dad didn't get up; in fact, he stayed there quite a while.

Not having a bed to sleep in and thinking the trauma was over, my brother left; he went to stay at a friends's home.

But, it wasn't over.  My Dad did get up, later.

Dad did more than yell, scream and swear.  He threatened us all, especially my Mom.  Dad literally carried on like a lunatic, claiming the child couldn't be his.  He wanted Mom to have an abortion or give the child up for adoption.  He made it clear he didn't want anyone to know of her pregnancy, threatening me until I was terrified, of speaking a word.

When Dad began hitting my Mom, she left.  Mom walked out the door; maybe I should say ran...for her and her baby's life.

As you can imagine, there is more to this incident, but I believe I've written enough for the moment.  Tomorrow, I'll write more about this traumatic incident.

Until next time...

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Sunday, September 19, 2010

Mom & Sis: A Shared Experience...

This morning, I was up extra early.  Normally, I do not get up around 6:30 am, but today, I did. 

It wasn't a case that I needed to leave home early, or anything like that.  In fact, I didn't need to leave home until regular time, to go worship at church.  This may sound silly to you, but I wanted to do something to remember my Mom.  Today, had she lived, would have been my Mom's 85th birthday.  Happy Birthday, Mom!

If you read yesterday's entry, you'll know that today is also my sister S's birthday.  She was born on my Mom's 40th birthday.  Actually, this afternoon, I phoned my sister, but couldn't reach her; I left a message for her, celebrating her special day.  Happy Birthday, S!

Some of my childhood friends, that I became reaquainted with through Facebook (FB) last year, didn't recall I had a sister almost 13 years younger than myself.  This didn't surprise me, when I heard this.  Even if one of them had lived across the street from my family.

Other than my immediate family members having knowledge of the circumstances surrounding this fact, very few people know anything about my Mom being pregnant.  Even my best friend who lived next door to me, didn't know, until my Mom actually gave birth to my sister.  The reason for the secret, I told her last year.

Gordon knew.  Other than that, I can only recall telling my first (1st) husband and one (1) doctor.  If I ever told anyone else, I have blocked it out, for I don't recall.  You see, I was sworn to secrecy.  It's too bad that I never blocked out the circumstances, like my Mom did.

In fact, a number of years back, during the two (2) year period of time I lived and worked selling real estate in Brampton, I recall talking with my Mom by telephone, one day.  I mentioned that the house we used to live in, in Brampton, was on the market for sale.  To my surprise, she didn't recall even living there, at first.  When she did finally recall, my Mom made it very clear that she didn't like thinking about that home, the era we lived there and certainly didn't want to see the home.

My sister was a different story.  When I spoke with her, she said she'd like to see where we lived at the time of her birth, so I arranged to go through an open house with her, one weekend.

The home was still considered owner occupied at the time, but the owner(s) had already moved some of their furniture to their new home.  Normally, I wouldn't mention something like this, but you'll understand shortly, why I am mentioning this, now.

Touring the home, I showed my sister which room had been my brother B's until he joined the Canadian army (RCEME) in the late spring/early summer my Mom was pregnant.  Because he left home, the room became hers.  I showed my sister how her furniture had been laid out, including where her crib had been located.

We took our time looking through the home, both together and on our own.  Especially me, for I had many memories, both good and bad, in that home.  They came flooding back into my memory, as I walked the rooms.

I heard my sister call my name; she said she was in her old bedroom.  When I re-entered the room, I found her laying on the floor, looking up at the ceiling.  She laughed and said that room was familiar to her.  S commented that she indeed remembered lying in her crib, looking up at the ceiling.  Yes, it was definitely familiar to her!  LOL :-))

My sister had heard remarks about our families issues during the time of my Mom's pregnancy for her and asked me to tell her details.  I told her.

Later, when I spoke with Gordon by telephone, I told him the details, too.  Actually, I should say that the circumstances of life at that time was very stressful to me.  In fact, I would go so far as to say I was traumatized.  That's what the doctor told me, later.

Sworn to secrecy, as I said, I never spoke about it to anyone after it happened, other than a doctor, on one occasion.  Even in adulthood, I only revealed the truth to people extremely close to me. 

If you've been a regular reader of Life with Lynnie, you'll recall me commenting that I have experienced some severe trials.  I have no intention of writing about all my life's trials.  It's enough to say, as I have in the past, that I have experienced many serious trials. 

I know that I have been considering writing about this traumatizing experience, mainly because it is one that set the stage for other trials in my life and somewhat explains better why I have felt so unloved throughout most of my life.  Possibly, it may even be a contributing factor to why I made poor choices, way back then.  But, today is not the day to reveal all.

The important thing to me now, isn't what happened.  Now that Christ has helped me deal with the experience, I can say that the important thing to me now, is the issue of forgiveness.  By the grace of God, I have forgiven.

Has forgiveness, or possibly the lack of it, been an issue in your life?  Hopefully, Jesus has helped you forgive those in your life, that you need to forgive.  It's a freeing experience.  After all, Jesus came to set the captives free.  And Jesus said unto them, "if you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." (John 8:32)

Until next time...

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Saturday, September 18, 2010


Last night, I had terrible trouble getting to sleep.  Twice I left my bed, because I just could not relax to get to sleep.  It was just one of those nights, when I just could not stop myself from crying and feeling frustrated over Gordon's death and my life, or what's left of it.

Even though I went to sleep rather late, I was once again up at my normal time.

Since it is Saturday, I relaxed reading the paper and completed newspaper puzzles, while watching public television.  I really enjoy watching cooking and travel programming; public television provides great shows I enjoy.  Especially on their Create stations.  I would like those of you who use cable to watch television to now that I feel badly for most of you, for most viewers of cable television do not receive the Create station.  You have no idea what you are missing!

One of the shows I watched was Rudy Maxa's World.  Rudy was in Munich and Bavaria; he included visits to Dachau and Neuschwanstein Castle.  Places where Gordon and I visited, together. 

I was reminded of Gordon and my time there.  Memories.  Good ones.  Still painful to recall, feeling the loss of my love.  But, good memories, nevertheless.

The thought of Dachau remains in my mind.  I'll never forget our visit there.  As we walked the grounds of this concentration camp, Gordon filmed.  He filmed the whole thing in silence.  He believed it would have more impact to viewers who would be more influenced by what they saw, if there was nothing said to focus their thoughts on.

It's interesting to note that at the end of the film, as we were leaving Dachau, there were a trio of German military people entering.  In case you aren't aware, Germany requires all military personnel to visit Concentration Camp(s) as part of their training.

While we were appreciating the freedom we had of leaving Dachau, this trio of German military personnel saw Gordon filming and yelled over to us, "Schweinehund".  It's on our video.

For those who do not know what Schweinehund means, it is literally translated as Pig-Dog.  To make matters worse, we realized that we weren't just being called names, we were being sworn at, for the term is not commonly used as name-calling, but rather it is used as a form of being damned by the person vocalizing the term.

Our response was silence, as we left the camp.  We forgave them, and moved on.

I must say that the whole experience of touring Dachau and our farewell greeting from the German military personnel reminded me of why it was so vital that my Dad and my Mom both served Canada in the army, during WW2.  If you haven't yet experienced something like this, you should.  If you don't currently believe that man is depraved, I'm sure you'll realize that man is truly as bad as he can be.

Thinking of my Mom, made me think of her sister, my Aunt Lily.

Aunt Lil was a wonderful lady.  I don't use that term lightly.  Although Aunt Lil was a woman, anyone who knew her, knew that she was also a lady.

When I was young, Aunt Lil was one person who showed me love.  She was always kind, loving and gentle towards me.  I can recall as a young person, thinking I would like to be just like her.  Of course, when I thought this, I wasn't aware of all her past life, but meant the thought in regards to her loving personality. 

Unfortunately, in some ways, my life has been like hers.  The difference?  While God blessed Aunt Lil with a love of her life and happiness, I have trouble believing God will ever bless me with someone to love, that will love me; someone to happily share my life with.

Her husband, Uncle Don, was a likeable, loving soul, too.  He worked for Kraft Canada, Christy Cookies division.  We always called him Mr. Christy, for he always brought cookies with him, for us!  Aside from this, Uncle Don was a treasure.

Uncle Don was not my Aunt Lil's first (1st) husband.

Aunt Lil had married and had a son, years earlier.  Actually, I cannot recall if I ever met my cousin, but I know of him and I know his name.  The marriage ended in divorce.

A second (2nd) marriage happened for my Aunt Lil.  Apparently, this loving soul who married my Aunt Lil, adopted my cousin; as far as I know, my cousin still bears his step-dad's sirname.  Unfortunately, I don't recall ever meeting Aunt Lil's husband, who was her second chance at happiness, for he died.  Cancer took his life.

Does this surprise you that I don't recall meeting my uncles or my cousin?  If you've read my earlier blog entries, you'll recall that due to family problems, I never even knew I had ANY relatives until I was about six or seven (6 or 7) years of age.  Even then, I never met some of my relatives, until much later.  Even now, I cannot declare to you that I've met all of my relatives.

My parents attended Aunt Lil's and Uncle Don's wedding and reception (her third [3rd] marriage).  There are reasons why this remains in my mind, even though we children were not in attendance at the wedding, nor the reception.  One is that today, had they still been alive, would have been their wedding anniversary.

The other reason I cannot ever forget what today represents, is because my when parents attended Aunt Lil and Uncle Don's wedding reception, either towards the end of it, or shortly afterwards, my Mom went into labour.

Tomorrow will be my sister S's birthday.  In addition, tomorrow will also be my Mom's birthday, too.

Until next time...

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Friday, September 17, 2010

Eternal Promises...

For some reason, I kept waking up last night.  Even so, I would say I had a good sleep.  One day, it would be nice to be able to sleep in, but I can't see this happening any time, soon.

Today, was another busy day, both for work and for my personal life.  Yes, believe it or not, even though through much of it since Gordon's death, I've felt like I need a life, because I don't have one, the reality is, I do have a life; it just feels like I don't, because I have no one to share it with.

Those of you, who have a spouse, needs to make sure you thank God for that spouse.  Even if life hasn't turned out the way you might have hoped it would, at least you have someone to share your life with.

Now, love is a different story.  Not everyone is happy with the spouse they have.  Not everyone is in love with their spouse.

Of course, love and committment go hand in hand.  Even with a loveless marriage, committment still remains.  Wasn't that what your vows had you commit to?

A short time ago, a person who I was once close to, mentioned they weren't really happy; that they hadn't known their spouse very long before marrying. 

For privacy reasons and to protect the person, I will not reveal an ititial or give any indication as to who the person is.

At the time this was said to me, I felt badly for the person.  You see, I had been in those shoes, also.  Many years ago.  In my first (1st) marriage.  I know how terribly lonely life can be, married to a person who is not your soul mate.

In my case, my marriage ended in divorce.  I won't go into detail, but it is enough to say that in retrospect, I can see that my marriage never had a chance of surviving.  It wasn't even a marriage of convenience.  In fact, I would go so far as to say, it was truly never a marriage, at all.

It made me feel bad for my friend, who told me about their feelings.  While I am glad that committment is part of their character, I know how lonely life can be.

Some people just never seem to obtain happiness in this life. 

It's rather sad to say that, but it is true.  Personally, I would never want to turn back the clock, because going back to before making the mistake of marrying the wrong person, would mean having to live through all the heartache of that era, once again.  No thank you

Believe me, my past has had enough pain and sorrow on it's own, without even considering what I've been through since Gordon's death.  Gordon was supposed to be my second (2nd) chance at happiness; look how that turned out! 

As I mentioned a few days ago, my life has been a disaster of sorts.  Partly due to poor choices on my part and partly not.  Believe it or not, many things happen in people's lives that they don't have control over.  Like choices other people make. 

Some of the choices others have made, affected my life beyond belief.  When I said the other day, that my life sometimes read like a bad soap opera, I meant it.  You'll probably read more about it, soon.

But friend, if you are reading, know that you are loved.  Even if at the moment, you don't have the greatest of lives, God loves you.  He promised His plan for you would be to prosper you, to not harm you, to give you hope and a future.

There are times when we all need to be reminded of this.  I find I need to remind regularly, for I know how difficult it is getting through this life.  We weren't promised a rose garden.  Like I've said in the past, I don't need a whole rose garden, but a single rose might be nice.

I find I need to remind myself to try and not focus on life, here on earth.  My lifetime will be relatively short, compared to eternity.  So, I must try to not look to the circumstances of my life.  I must try to focus on the blessing of eternity.  Even though it is not always easy, I do try.  And, keep trying, repeatedly.

This is why sometimes I cry out to God to just take me home!  No, I'm not suicidal.  I just know that once I've gone to heaven, there will be nothing but joy waiting for me there, for eternity.  God promised me this.

Friend, God promised this to you, too.

Until next time...

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Thursday, September 16, 2010


Sleep didn't come early, but then again, 2:00 am isn't all that bad, compared to some nights in the past!  Once again, I slept really well.  So soundly in fact, that I didn't really want to get up this morning.  But, alas, we all have to do things we really don't want to do, sometimes.  I was up at regular time.

One reason I was up late was because I had a lovely conversation with my friends M & D by telephone, late last night.  Just as it approached midnight, I sang D Happy Birthday, for his birthday is today.  M and I have known each other for years, because we were both Realtors, until M gave up her licence.  D grew up worshipping at the same Brethren Chapel that Gordon did, so they had much in common.  As a foursome, we would get together around each others birthdays for salad, pizza and cake (usually carrot!).

M and I had trouble touching base this year, for it seemed we just couldn't connect, time wise.  By the time we spoke last evening, I found out both M & D aren't feeling well.  Oh well.  Our celebration time together will have to wait until everyone is feeling better.  Happy Birthday, D!

During our conversation, M told me that they had gone to the cemetary to visit some graves, including her 1st husband's (he died of cancer).  Since they were in the cemetary where Gordon is buried, they visited Gordon's grave, too. 

This kind of surprised me, but not as much as when she told me they brought coffee to the cemetary, poured some on all the graves they visited, to share with the recipients buried there, including Gordon.  I must admit, I never would have thought of doing that!  Although I must admit, I don't know anyone who doesn't like Tim Horton's!  :-))

They too had noticed the shamrocks I spoke of yesterday, on his grave.  We had a chuckle about that, coming to the conclusion that God probably knew Gordon would want them there, to remind me of our time together. 

Oh, I just thought of one reason I might have been so very tired, today.  Yesterday was a fairly stressful day for me, because I had to see Dr. S, regarding my diabetes check up.

Around the time my brother Glenn died, I had been scheduled to have my annual checkup at the hospital, but had to cancel and rebook.  With the current guidelines, I couldn't be rescheduled at the hospital without another referral, so in the end, we just rebooked a regular appointment, at his office.  Now, I'm booked at the hospital for the spring of 2011.

I know I mentioned that I had stopped taking my medication and stopped testing my blood sugar level, after Christmas last year.  At the time, I was feeling really depressed over losing Gordon.  Besides, I truly hate taking medication.

For example, years ago, I used to take 500 mg of Naproxen, twice daily, for the rheumatoid arthritis (Ankylosing Spondylitis) I have.  It was eating my stomach, so I had to take in in another form.  Truly, it didn't help me; it just complicated my body by creating problems in other areas, so I stopped taking it.  This is one reason why I do vitamin therapy, now.  I'm happy with it.  It's a more natural type of treatment, plus my body gets all the nourishment it needs.

Anyway, I was so upset yesterday, thinking Dr. S. would probably throw me out of his office, for not following his treatment programme, but to my surprise, he didn't.

One reason was because my numbers were not very different that when I was taking the medication he prescribed me.  In fact, due to controlling my diet and obtaining regular and more extensive (thanks to my Chiropractor!) exercise than I could do in the past, I was able to get my numbers down, even lower than they had been while on the medication.

While my three (3) month blood test showed a slightly elevated reading, plus my cholesterol reading was slightly elevated, he explained that since I had been not only grieving my husband still, but also my brother's death and all the related stress, it wasn't surprising.  In fact, he was surprised it wasn't higher.

So, even though I thought I had done a really bad thing, it turned out, okay.  Praise God!  Thank You, Jesus.

Dr. S agreed to leave me just as I am for the time being, until he sees me in the spring.  At that time, he'll review my health and determine what to do, depending upon the test results.  What a relief!  I think I was so very tired, just from the stress of it all!  :-))

Even though today was a work day, I had thought about sleeping in, because I was so extremely tired.  But, knowing I had a busy day planned, I knew I just couldn't do it.

Today, was one of those days where I just didn't have a moment to spare.  In fact, I just got home about 11:30 pm and am now writing this entry.  Phew!  I made it, on time!  With a few minutes to spare. 

Thank You Father, Your timing is always perfect!

Until next time...

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Wednesday, September 15, 2010

The Trinity...

Wow!  Another great night's sleep!  A little short, because I was up earlier than normal, but great!  Thank you to all who have prayed for me, regarding sleep.  I appreciate your prayer, more than you know.

This morning, I was up earlier than normal, because I knew that I needed to make some homemade applesauce, today.  So, I made my way to the kitchen and began the easy process.  Here is my recipe (if you can call it that!):

Lynn McKenzie's Applesauce Recipe

* Use any kind of apples you like.

* For quantity, use as many apples or as few apples as you like.

* Peel apples and slice or chunk them, as you desire.

* Place apple slices/chunks into a slow cooker.

* Set slow cooker on high power.

* Let apples cook until tender; length of time depends upon quantity used (1+ hours).

* Use a potato masher to mash the apples.

* Let apples cook a short while longer, until consistancy is what you like.


* You'll note I didn't add sugar, cinnamon, etc., but if you so desire, feel free to add to taste.


Today is the third (3rd) Wednesday of the month.  This meant that our 50+ group from church was meeting today, for our usual luncheon.  Our theme for this month was apples, hence the applesauce.

Those of us on the organizing team agreed to bring a dish we make from apples; one woman brought apple cake, another apple crisp, another a tray of 'apple-tizers' (cheese, crackers and apples) and I brought applesauce for everyone to have a taste of.  I believe a good time was had by all.

We ended early enough that I was able to go by my office, to sign some paperwork.  Since my office isn't far from the cemetary, I went to Gordon's grave.  I didn't go on Sunday, so I thought it would be appropriate.  I was glad I went, even though I didn't stay long.

For a long time now, I had been wondering who sprinkled clover seeds on Gordon's grave.  I asked my daughter P, if she and her family had done this, for I knew she had actually visited his grave, once.  No, it wasn't her.

For sure, it wasn't me.  On several occasions, I have searched around the area.  No one else's grave has clover, or shamrocks as I prefer to call them, growing.  In fact, the lawn is so well kept that it rare to see anything other than grass growing, with only the rare weed.

As I've mentioned in the past, there hasn't been anyone I am aware of, who would have visited Gordon's grave.  For a long time, I have been wondering who did this.  Whoever it was, it had to be someone who knew Gordon loved Ireland.  Otherwise, they wouldn't have spread (clover) shamrock seed on his grave.  While most shamrocks are small, I took a couple of the largest pieces, brought it home and photographed it, for you to see.

Hopefully, God will reveal to me one day, who did this.  I would like to thank them for it, because it is something that I believe Gordon would have enjoyed and not just because we both loved Ireland, but also because when we taught English as a Second Language (ESL) together, as volunteers at our church, we used shamrocks to explain the Trinity:  God the Father, God the Son and God, the Holy Spirit.

It might be that God just allowed some grass seed that the cemetary workers spread over his grave, have shamrock seed mixed in, by accident.  Of course, we believers in Christ, know that nothing happens by accident, so maybe God meant it to be this way. 

After all, whether we are in agreement, are happy or not, His will is always done!

Until next time...

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Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Confusion? Not Now!

As you can imagine, after being so-o very tired yesterday, I slept for a solid seven (7) hours last night.  No dreams; no nightmares.  Praise God!  Thank You, Jesus!

This morning, I received a message from a friend who reads Life with Lynnie (LwL) asking why my pastor would mention me during our worship service.  I believe my friend was concerned for me, thinking I had been crying because I was upset over my pastor mentioning me.  This is not the case, at all.

To avoid any confusion, I will explain in more detail why I was crying at church on Sunday.

Before I begin, I must however mention that I am not looking to have a pity party.  Prayer is definitely appreciated, but I do not need anyone feeling sorry for me.  This is not what I want, nor is it what I need.  Love, prayer and support is what I need.  The same as what you need, also.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.

Most of what I am going to say is rather personal.  I will only vaguely touch on the subjects and have no intention of going into detail, so I hope you will keep that in mind and not pass judgement, as you read.

I have days when I feel rather low, as you know.  Yes, I miss Gordon; yes, I am grieving the loss of my soul mate, my husband, whom I love dearly.  However, there are times lately in my grief (yes, this is a stage of grief) when I feel upset with Gordon.  He wasn't a perfect person, as I've written about from time-to-time, in the past.

As I've written about previously, during Gordon's illness, he sort of gave up on himself, life and at times, even God.  While he always loved Jesus, I know he felt disappointed with life, because he suffered many trials, some of which were extremely serious ones.  His trials in life are not the concern here.

As you know, Gordon had an inoperable brain tumour.  Some might say, "so what?"  However, if anyone has ever lived with someone with a brain tumour, they will know that personality changes, mood swings and a whole myriad of physical problems arise.  During some of Gordon's moods, he would be so low that he did things that were not only totally out of charactor for him, but things that if he had been healthy, he never would have done.  Some of you know what I am referring to; others may not.  The important thing isn't what he did, but rather, why he did these things.

Had he not battled the brain tumour, he would not have experienced mood swings and depression.  Life with Gordon was very, very stressful.  More so, as his health deteriorated.  To the point where there were times when I wondered if I would be able to continue coping with the situation.  There were times when he felt so low, that I actually felt hurt that he wouldn't want to strive for life, even if it were just to be with me.  I knew he loved me, but I was always trusting that it was God's will to heal Gordon. 

Since Gordon died, there have been times when I have felt brokenhearted, wishing he would have leaned more on Jesus to help him through that horrible trial.  I can recall asking him to live for Jesus and for me.  When things were not good, there were times when I wondered why he'd want to give up, knowing he loved me.  Why not want to live for me?

The stress from all of this, made me feel at times like I was once again being rejected in life.  The reality is I know I wasn't being rejected, but there were times when I felt like I was.  And, believe me, life wasn't easy, for Gordon or for me, right up until his death.

Anyway, on Sunday, as I was driving to church, I began thinking of how much I missed Gordon, how I wished he had wanted to live, even if it were only to be with me.  Selfish, wouldn't you say?  He suffered greatly; more than most people know.

Most people will say that if something upsets you, think about something else.  So, I did.  I thought about my daughter, P.  P is rheumatoid arthritic and has Lupus; for over a year, she has been complaining about a foot problem.  An x-ray over a year ago didn't show a break in her foot; a recent ultrasound did.  She's suffered for over a year with this broken foot.  Now, she will have to endure extra treatment and possibly surgery, to correct the problem.  Not only has this been a painful experience, but it is certainly not a good situation for someone with an auto-immune disease, like Lupus.

Okay.  Not good to dwell on this, either.  So, I thought about my daughter, B.  Her life is currently a disaster.  She and her children recently left the home they were living in.  Why?  Because, she was in an abusive relationship.  Her partner has been threatening to kill her.  In fact, after he called my ex-husband, my ex-husband called the police.  Life is horrid at the moment for her.  Not to mention, rather dangerous, too.  She is in hiding at the moment and will be for quite a while to come.

Which reminded me of being divorced, previously.  Need I say more?  Maybe.  Through my grief, I've found that once again, I've been facing things that I thought I had dealt with, previously.  Some of you may know that my life has not been an easy one.  I've endured many, many serious trials.

God has been there for me, always.  Even when I wasn't there for Him.  Hopefully, you can understand that on Sunday morning, I was feeling rather overwhelmed thinking of all this negative stuff.

Arriving at church, I prayed before I entered and proceeded to the area where I usually sit.  As I sat down, I noticed the Bibles in the pew racks were different.  Oh yes, ever since our previous pastor left, things have rapidly changed.  Okay.  You can tell me that especially as we age, some people just do not adapt well to change.  I'm not usually one of them.  However, with some of the changes at church, I have not been adapting well, for I am not in agreement with them.  (You may have read about one issue, I wrote about, previously).

This was upsetting to me.  I fact, it brought tears to my eyes.  Maybe partly because I wasn't calm to begin with.  Only God knows.

As I mentioned yesterday, I was not upset when my pastor spoke and prayed for me and my family.  Actually, I was grateful, for last week at prayer, I had requested special prayer for my daughters, knowing their special circumstances.  In addition, our pastor had previously made it clear that his intention is for us to grow as a family and not be strangers to each other.  Like Gordon and my problems were, before Gordon died.

You see, only one (1) person knew about how Gordon's health and our other problems were affecting our lives.  That person was my friend, A.  Then, a couple of months before Gordon died, he opened up to two (2) men, when we got together in a group of couples.  So, while Gordon's name had been on our prayer list and people (hopefully) prayed for him, virtually no one knew about our situation. 

Even pastor B wasn't fully aware.  Our previous pastor D, knew and understood.  We really did not want to have to open up,tell others of the seriousness of the trial we were experiencing, for even talking about it was painful.  Pastor B told us at prayer and Bible study, that he wants us to be able to really know, understand and ultimately pray for each other, in a more meaningful way.  And, not have anyone fall through cracks, not receiving prayer they need.

The sermon was not directed personally to me, nor was it about me.  However, like most of you would relate to, there are times when during a sermon, you feel like God is talking to you.  This is how it was with me.  When my pastor spoke about trials in life and how it's like a cup being full and trying to add just a few more drops of water, causes the cup to overflow, I could relate to this, for as I mentioned previously, I was already feeling overwhelmed with personal problems.

There have been times when I've cried out to God, asking Him why my whole life has been like a bad soap opera, filled with continuous problems.  Trials beyond belief.  In fact, if I were to list them, you would probably think I was making this up.  But, it is true.  The reality is, when we are in the midst of the trial, if we are honest, we admit we sometimes cry out to God.  We know that God uses these trials to mold us into the image of Christ (sanctification).  While trials are for our ultimate good, it doesn't mean we like them.

Once I began crying, I found I just could not stop.  Then, he spoke about grieving.  More tears.  Loss; more tears.  And as I wrote yesterday, about how morning would come and joy with it.  More tears.  Truly, I cannot wait for morning to arrive.  Although I have joy in my Lord, I need joy in my life, too.

Don't think I haven't cried out to God, asking why I must suffer all these trials.  While I know and believe they are for my benefit, it doesn't mean I enjoy them.  No one enjoys trials.  If you do, maybe I should suggest you see a physician.  I just know that without Jesus, I could not get through them.

So, there you have it.  I was not insulted, upset or angry with my pastor.  Some of what caused me to cry, was my own hurt, pain, suffering, sorrow and frustration with life.

Once again, I will say that I do not need pity, from anyone.  Pity is not what I am looking for when I write Life with Lynnie.  My pain is real.  I believe that I cannot be the only person who experiences or has experienced pain like I am going through, currently or have gone through in the past.

When I first began writing LwL, I intended this blog to be different than what it has turned out to be.  Many people have now told me that it has encouraged them, for they see how I have been humble in writing about my troubles, pain and sorrow.  And, how I have managed through, depending on God.

So, when you think of me, please think of me as a survivor, not a victim.  Of course, prayer is always appreciated.

Until next time...

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