School Days, School Days...Oh What Blessings Those Years Were



The Fall  flowers in the garden are welcoming!



Good Afternoon!
It is so beautiful here today I can hardly stand it.  The little ones will have good weather to trick 'n' treat.

I can't believe that 2010 is winding down.  My Christmas crates are rumbling out in the garage saying, "open me, open me!"  There must be something in my families genes that causes us to go nuts about Christmas.  My father made all his Christmas decorations and won many General Electric awards for his creativity.  My children and I have all carried on the traditions.  My son always puts lights up for me on Thanksgiving for my December 2 birthday.  We all stand across the street and go "Wow" as Tommy flips the switch!

Today we joined Community North Baptist Church.  There are only 259 members in the church and I truly believe that it's a place where my gifts can be of use.  The card ministry will get going starting tomorrow!!  Since I have been commissioned as a Stephens Minister I also feel comfortable doing lay counseling.



Dorothy-Graduation-17

 I've been thinking about how blessed I was to grow up in a small town where most everyone knew each other.  So many of the children that I started kindergarten with I also graduated with.  I don't remember any kind of bullying going on and most homes had the telephone in the center of the house (some shared party lines) so there really were no big secrets.  I had no problem bounding out of bed to get to school early enough to have some time to chat with friends even though we'd talked for hours on the phone the night before.  Your last name was important and my Grandmother Maggie (her parents immigrated from Norway in the 1850's) always would say...we're American, speak good English and remember to make your name one of honor.  I had some of the same teachers that my dad had.  Anyone remember "Cece"?  Oh my goodness how we teased that poor woman.  The more upset she got the redder her rouge got!

Dorothy-Band-1963

 I would say that one of my saving graces as a child suffering from trauma and emotional abuse was that I was a good student, my teachers K-12 were great encouragers and I had a group of friends that were really died in the wool friends.  I wish I had some of my photos to post because they were so precious...I can see the photos in my mind (the one where we are cheerleaders for the Tigers and I am in the center of the photo holding a tiger)...hot dog pizza parties at Elaines, slumber parties, walks down country roads at Lynda's, teen dances at school and the Lakeside Ballroom, proms where we got all beautified up for the Grand March and an evening of dancing and fun.  Alcohol? Naaa  Drugs? Naaa  Speaking of the Lakeside Ballroom...as teens we enjoyed all the teen idols (Jerry Lee Lewis really did kick the piano bench off the stage!).  The Lakeside Ballroom was also a place were many of our parents met during the Big Band Era.  Many a Saturday night, we would park outside the ballroom by the lake, sit on our cars and listen to the music.  My friend, Elaine, was the only friend I had who had a car so it was she that drove us to towns nearby to check out the action.  There was also band and choir to participate in. 




Dorothy & Jonathan - "When at night..."

 In fifth or sixth grade, Mrs. Wells directed the operetta Hansel and Gretel staring "me" as Gretel and Jonathan P. as Hansel.  Kay S. made a great witch.  The whole town was invited and it was quite a celebration.  Sometimes when I am sad, I find myself singing the song - When at night I go to sleep, 14 angels watch do keep...  The blanks in my life centered around life at home but the wonderful times at Glenwood Elementary, Middle School, and High School are memories I cherish.  There was never a dull moment with first loves, football/basketball/wrestling, roller skating, and Girl Scouts.  I am soooo grateful!  I wish all children could experience the years I had at school!

Home life was different.  Most of the time, I faded into the woodwork and didn't make waves.  I remember my father either mowing the lawn, or sitting at the kitchen counter smoking one cigarette after another and drinking coffee..he was always working doing something. We rarely spoke.   He was in pain a lot ... he said from shrapnel from the war and arthritis.  I loved my dad a lot but most of the time when he spoke to me, it was of a demeaning nature.  My mother had Rheumatoid Arthritis and was ill a lot.  I will say that they were devoted to each other and when my mother's rheumatoid arthritis got really bad, he took over almost all the chores at home as well as helping her with her exercises.  I don't remember my brother being around at all and that makes me sad.  My father would get "triggers" and those triggers would erupt into bouts of loud anger towards me.  Maybe they were there as a child but I only remember their severity starting at the age of 12.  With every boyfriend, he was afraid that I was going to get pregnant and curfews were very tight.  Little did he know that I was not involved in any improper behavior and my teen years were filled with being a "lady" as you would say in the South.  If I was invited to a party, he would say "Who do you think you are" (he seemed to think everyone was better than me and why should I be invited to anything).  One night Lynda and I went roller skating and got home just a few minutes past curfew.  My dad met us at the door and called me amongst other things, a whore.  I was so embarrassed.  Thank God Lynda, who was my best friend and knew everything about me knew that would never be true.  It still hurt.  When I told my mom, she just said that he was only worried about me.  That didn't help either.  I needed her to stand up for me...I needed anyone to stand up for me!

Confirmation-Glenwood Lutheran Church-1961

 There were some other things too that gave me strength:  going to church, and my Grandma Maggie.  I loved her so much and she was always good to me.  I remember her sitting in her rocking chair looking out the window at the bird house and reading her Norwegian Bible.  She would dress up every day and put on a pin either on her dress or sweater to receive guests.  She made egg coffee and made a cup up for me to try adding milk and sugar.  I must admit, it was pretty good - especially when she had homemade cookies to dunk in the coffee.  Grandma Maggie's house always smelled so good and I loved the way she always had everything in the "parlor" looking so pretty.  There were always lots of guests at her house -- people seemed to be drawn to her.  At Christmas Aunt Alida would play the piano and we would all sing then open the handmade gifts that Alida and Grandma had made for each of us.  Grandma Maggie was a survivor and an overcomer - she'd had both breasts removed and had skin cancer in later life.  She just kept on going and I loved that about her...she died 3 days short of her 100th birthday and believe me, there were many in that town, family and friends that mourned her loss and cherished her heritage.  She taught all her grandchildren the Norwegian table prayer - when I am eating alone, I sometimes say that prayer and smile.  There's so much history with my Grandmother Maggie and also my mother's Hall side of the family that I'll be blogging on them at another date.  I think our family trees are so important!

This is my prayer chair.  I love it because I can sit and look outside at my front garden and it's peaceful there.  I think everyone should have a place that is special...where we can go to escape from the crazy world around us.  I've always created that for myself and it gives me a sense of taking care of my soul....a place for me to read my Bible(s) and think about what's really important in life.  What do I want my legacy to be?  Funny, how our kids remember certain things about us...for years, I wore the perfume Youth Dew by Estee Lauder.  They tell me that whenever they smell that scent, they think of me.  I catch a whiff of it too and still like it!

 My oldest granddaughter who is just out of high school is having surgery on Monday and the whole family is very anxious about that.  She had ovarian cancer when she was born and has been cancer free for many years.  All of a sudden, she is dealing with another tumor and a fallopian tube filled with fluid.  Somehow, I just wish I could take away her pain physically and the pain she may experience if she is unable to have children.  For those of you reading this, please pray for Brittany.

Brittany - 20 Years Old

The Promise Study Edition  of the Bible Psalm 23 gives us comfort.  This is a Psalm written by David.

You LORD, are my shepherd.  I will never be in need.

    You let me rest in fields of green grass.

You lead me to streams of peaceful water,

    and you refresh my life.

You are true to your name,

    and you lead me along the right paths.

I may walk through valley as dark as death,

    but I won't be afraid.

You are with me,

   and your shepherd's rod makes me feel safe.

You treat me to a feast while my enemies watch.

You honor me as your guest,

    and you fill my cup until it overflows.

Your kindness and love will always be with me each day of my life,

    and I will live forever in your house, LORD.

Oh, what would we do without the comfort of the Lord in our lives?  He fills the holes that nothing and no one else can fill.  Have a wonderful day, my friends and consider yourselves prayed for!  It's a beautiful day to be alive and kicking!

  

Never Give Up & Always Celebrate Who You Are!



Come sit a spell and let's share some muffins and coffee!

I'm a creative artist.  Let's talk about my talent and how it developed.  I am more than just a survivor of childhood/adult trauma/abuse.  I am fortunate...in all the craziness of my world, my mind is intact and I get so excited about life and making a difference.  I am not bitter nor is my life filled with darkness.  It is my purpose to let those of you out there (if you identify with my blog) know there is HOPE!  As children we don't have many choices but as adults we do.  We aren't responsible for what happened to us but we are responsible for our own recovery!! 

This weeks marks the 7th year that we've lived in this house.  I'm so grateful to have been able to see my gardens mature and the house evolve.  It used to drive my husband nuts that I couldn't sit still and always had to have a project in the works.  Now, he just smiles and says this place is a fun and relaxing place to come home to.  It's kind of like when I played paper dolls and made homes out of shoe boxes.  I took a test at Ethan Allen to see what my decorating style was...it ended up being Romantic Country English with an eclectic twist.  I'm a "come in and sit a while person" and love to have friends and family in for visits.  Favorite colors?  Red, Purple, Gold and brown...  In doing the design for the little casa, I used softer colors..It's taken some getting used to but I sure didn't want two houses that looked the same!

Our home had a formal dining room that we never used.  I decided that I would send the dining room table and chairs to the little casa and make the room more usable for praying and reading.  I always feel very comfortable in that room and like to snuggle down on the sofa with the dogren and a good book.  There's a lot of history in that room.  Everywhere I look I'm reminded of those I love and how this room came together.

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I also like to do wreaths and floral arrangements.  When I get tired of them, I tear them apart, give them a cleaning and start over.  God blessed me with being able to put together unusual items to make something beautiful.   I used to be a magazine junkie...I couldn't get enough of learning about design.  Now I'm an HGTV junkie.  With the help of magazines and watching others put together homes, I found my own style ... in so many ways, it defines me!  Some years ago, I hired a professional landscaper to do a small garden for my zero lot line home.  I sat outside and watched how they started, the process, and the finished product.  As a result, I found out that I loved digging in the dirt and making the landscape a work of art.  It's taken me 7 years of digging and planting to make the backyard look like a country garden.  Michael says I move plants around like most people do furniture!    



My creativity has evolved over many years.  My ex-husband, Bob, had a good eye for design and did drawings and paintings.  He encouraged me and loved my off the wall design.  Well, my first try at painting a room red was a disaster and we ended up calling in a professional to clean up my mess.  I learned a lot from that feeble attempt but in the end, the room turned into a great room for my son ... very manly!  The more time I invested in my creations, the more excited I got and the more success I had. I'm not afraid to mix plaids, florals, stripes, and different textures.  I love going to Trade Days and find bargains that fit perfectly in a special place.  Most of the items I purchase, have a story.  For example:

One day I was digging through some junk at an antique store and found this boudoir chair.  It was a mess so I picked it up for a song.  I think the dealer felt sorry for me because he threw the boudoir pot in on the deal.  I refinished  the chair & reupholstered the seat.  (See Above) From the chair are hanging some ice skates circa before 1900 and a Shillelagh (the Irish used these clubs in fights ... ouch!).  The vignette came out as a fun conversation piece.  My grandchildren have to show people where you would go to the bathroom if you didn't want to go to the outhouse.   It's usable too, as an extra chair when needed!

I'm a candle gal...nothing better than a jet tub bath by candle light.  I love to watch the flames dance in the darkness.  Coming from from a little city by a lake, I love the sound of water...it soothes my soul.  Two of the houses where I have lived had swimming pools with waterfalls...and I thought I was in pig heaven.

So....I guess you could say, yes, I am a romantic soul as comfortable in denim as I am in a ball gown and my surroundings reflect that.   You see, my childhood was what it was...my marriages were what they were BUT I was strong enough to shine in the darkness.  No one could break my spirit!

Night everyone!  Sweet dreams.  My bear on the bed says I Am Loved ... and, it's true, I am ... and, you are too!

  

What Man Meant for Evil, God Meant for Good

Good evening everyone.  Fall has really dropped in on Texas.  The breezes are chilly and the trees are starting to turn.  Sadie and Toby love to run through the leaves then bound into the house creating complete chaos.  My vacuum cleaner gets a good work out these days!

This has been quite a week ... good stuff and some other stuff that God has to  handle.  My faith is my strength & I am excited about getting my card ministry off the ground this week!!  I'd been praying about how I could serve my church and the card ministry kept coming up.  So many people are so alone and knowing someone cares can mean the world to them.  Dr. B stopped by tonight and he said we should be rolling really soon.  Anybody in the Dallas area who has some Christian All Occasion cards that they'd like to donate, let me know.

My eldest granddaughter is quite ill and we're all having a hard time with this.  She was born with ovarian cancer and now is facing the removal of another tumor in the ovary and removal of the fallopian tube that is filled with fluid.  Angie and Brittany spent today with the gynocologist to get the results of tests.  They did more blood work and surgery may be on the horizon as early as next week.  We are on our knees.  It was ironic that Dr. B. showed up tonight because I was in tears and that man shook heaven with his prayers for Brittany.  Please pray for her as you are led.  When you have children, you think you couldn't love anyone as much as those sweet babies ... then comes the granchildren (all 6 of them) and love seems to blossom all over again. 

Over the past 28 years I have read practically every self-help book written.  I used to attend Alanon on a regular basis and they would say "Take what you can use and leave the rest."  I found that to be oh so true.  I think I could say I had a Phd in Getting Whole.  :o)  We're all works in progress, one step at a time.  And, you know what, God loves us just as we are!!

So many followers of my blog have said, "I had no idea..."  Well, welcome to the club 'cause I had no idea either...All I knew is that my life was a mess and I had huge blanks where I remembered nothing about my growing up years.  Later as an adult, if something was painful, I would block it out.   Now I can stay in the moment.  Yeah!  Believe me, that's a big step.  I went to see a counselor by the name of Mandy in the early 1980's.  I told her that I wanted her to give me every psychological test in the book and if I was crazy, to lock me away.  Some of the tests I thought were kind of weird but I did them anyway.  When the day came, to get the results, she said well...you are emotionally healthier than probably 95% of the people alive.  There were some questions though that came up about my choice in partners which puzzled her.  I remember telling her that it puzzled me too.  I did tell Mandy about some snapshots that were strange and that I had a BIG conscience that worked overtime. She said that I led a shame based life but why??  One time I stole some perfume from the dime store and my conscience hurt so bad that I had to tell my mother.  She had me shake some money out of my piggy bank and we went back to the store so that I could apologize and pay them for the perfume.  To this day, if I hurt someone or do something against my values, I cringe.

In my search I began to think like a child.  I detached to survive and keep myself safe.  I was a "good girl" (except for my adventures which I guess these days would be called running away).  In my Pollyanna world things were pretty good.  No one talked much In my house and I spent a lot of time alone in my room or in the basement.  I must say though that as a teenager, I spent a whole lot of time on the telephone with friends plotting and planning our next outing.  Oh, those hot dog pizzas at Elaines were soooo good!

Two things I have remembered quite clearly.  My Grandmother Maggie who I adored, fixed up a playhouse for me next to her garage and fixed it up so cute.  She would make cookies and Kool-Aid and we would have tea parties.  I loved bringing my doll babies there and playing.  I had a cousin who was about 8 years older than me.  At first he asked if he could join my tea parties and play mommy and daddy.  I thought that sounded pretty cool.  It wasn't long before the play wasn't fun any more.  I was violated and told no one because he said I would get in trouble.  I told him never to come into my play house again.  He didn't!   There was something else that I remember quite vividly --I don't remember how old I was but probably no older than 5.  There is a huge blank in time; however, I remember looking at my underwear and seeing yellow sticky stuff.  I felt so much shame - it was late Fall because there was snow on the ground but not much.  I took the underwear and threw them out into the field.  They were hanging from some weeds.  I went home and my conscience got the best of me and I went back out to the field and got my underwear and brought them home and showed them to my mother.  I kept saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."  My mother looked at me strangely, took the underwear and never said a word.  This particular episode has bothered me for years.  Ruth (trauma counselor) said that I may never remember the whole story.  God only allows us remember what our minds can handle.  I kept telling her that I really wanted to know and her reply was that the reality of the trauma may be more than I could bear as a child and as an adult.

Breaking Free from being a victim has been important to me.  Because my life was filled with so many secrets and those secrets were causing me to self-destruct, I speak out.  I speak up for every little girl and boy who has been violated.  I'm not afraid anymore and I've learned to truly love me and who God made me to be.  It's been quite a bumpy ride but that's ok too...  Maybe some people think I'm being too open but then I wonder if things would have been different if someone who have spoken up for my mom or me or anyone else in my family hurt by a perpetrator.

My kids call me Mama Bear and I laugh.  I would protect them with my life!  I am so proud of them I can hardly stand it.  They are good people who love the Lord and their fellowman.  They're overcomers too and I like that about them.  For such a long while, it was just Jane, Tommy and me and we were a loving family.  In fact, when my son got married, Jane was his "best man errrr lady!"  There are so many good things that made me who I am and I just love that Bible verse...what man meant for evil, God meant for good..

I wish you pleasant dreams.   I won't be writing tomorrow because I will be setting up the office for my card ministry and my husband is telling me that a trip to the grocery store is in order!  And, most importantly, I want to be on call immediately if my family needs me for some comforting or if my little grandsons need to spend some time with Grandma. 



Let's all remember this family...the goings have been kinda tough!  I just believe that with God ALL things are possible!!



 

Baby's Own Story - Part II



Dorothy & Dad 8 Months Old



From the time I was a tiny baby until my brother was born, I have no flashbacks or indications that I was not loved or cared for.  I have no photos of my mother and I but several of my father and I.  I smile when I look at them.

When I started doing trauma work with Ruth I began experiencing facing painful truth...the truth of silence and excuses.  As children we are born and are to be protected and cherished.  Parents aren't perfect but when bad things outweigh the good over a long period of time, two things happen:  the child thinks, "You got me and I'm going to get you," or, in my case, I escaped into another world - I detached. 

My first flashback was of me laying on the floor of the upstairs bathroom.  I see a man above me but cannot see his face.  I am screaming with terror.  It has been difficult because no matter how much I have tried, I cannot see the man's face.  After talking with relatives, I have a suspicion of who the man is but since I cannot see his face, I cannot mention his name other than to say, the man was not my father.  People who abuse babies do so without fear of being "named" ... Often times, though, there are enough signs that family members choose to ignore.  That part makes me want to puke.

In my work in tearing down the curtain of silence, my "left-handed" journal helped me tremendously.  Entry from July 23, 2006:  "Ruth said I am supposed to write with my left hand to develop my emotional side.  When I write with my left hand it isn't nearly as pretty - more juvenile."  I am a very logic thinking person and it's taken a long time to get to where I am now.  It's been one step forward, one step backward ... now, my work to wholeness is less painful and the triggers that cause the destructive behavior towards myself come less often.  I am grateful for that.

Anger ran rampantly on my mother's side of the family.  My mother would tell me stories of how her brothers would break her Christmas present(s) and how sad she felt.  She was the  one who took the beatings when she and her sister would get into trouble.  As a child I remember my uncles talking using every swear word imaginable.  My Uncle Gordon, looked at me when I was there visiting and said, "You've got to be the ugliest kid I've ever seen."  No one said anything.  There was silence.   To cross either of my uncles meant trouble.  There was so much verbal and emotional abuse.  I stuffed the "words" into my subconscious and chose to remember the good things about the farm...the watermelon parties, the harvests, the times of birthdays...  My behavior told the story though...I would go through bouts of anger, I would look in the mirror and see someone ugly...  There was no one to tell me that I was ok.



Roger 2; Dorothy 3

One thing that has always puzzled me is that my mother would tell me that my brother and I were inseparable and like two peas in a pod.  I don't remember my brother much at all.  The only way I knew that I had a brother was looking at pictures.  My mother would also tell me that I was a difficult child (always on the go) and my brother had colic and didn't sleep for three months.  Another incident I wrote about in my journal was of me standing in my crib crying.  A voice says, "Shut up or I will give you something to cry about."  To this day, I hate any kind of confinement.  Riding in the car was horrible...I picked on my brother like my uncle picked on me and that makes me ashamed of myself.  My father dumped some sand under a tree in the backyard for me to dig in.  They would put me out there and I would be gone in a flash.  One story my mother told me was that a lady from the dime store called and asked if I was there.  I'd been at the store and had left my purse there.  The next call came from my Grandmother Maggie saying I was at her house - I'd wandered from home to downtown to Grandmother Maggies - over a mile.  I was 3.

Roger 3, Dorothy 4 

When I think about being 4, my world was that of paper dolls and my doll babies.  I loved it when the new Sears catalog would come and I could use it to make houses (shoe boxes worked great!).  I was a happy little girl and my imagination worked overtime.  We were under a tornado watch one day and my mother called to tell us to go to the basement.  We went to the basement and I excitedly designed a whole new living quarters out of that dank, dirt floored room which included a coal bin.  I was an optimistic little soul always thinking and dreaming.  My mother told me I was bossy.  All I knew was that the world was a great big wonderful place and I wanted to explore every inch of it.  One excursion took me to the Soo Line Railroad yards and I decided to check out where the bums lived in the sand pit.  From there I jumped up on the box cars.  Another excursion took me to the top of Soo Hill.  I found an orange sack and decided to fill it with treasures.  I filled it with rocks, old cigarette packs....junk...when I got to the bottom of Soo Hill (downtown), I saw the best treasure of all.  Down under a grate next to Miller's Grocery was a Dairy Queen dish.  I pulled up the grate and when I went to reach for the dish, I dropped the grate on my foot.  Mrs. Miller heard me crying and carried me home.  No one was there so I took a rag and wrapped it around my toe that had an inch gash down to the bone.  When mother and father got home, I told them about my journey.  They were upset that I had bothered Mrs. Miller.  No one looked at my toe that kept bleeding through the rags.  Do you understand why I began to feel I wasn't worth much?  I laughed about it and told everyone what a big girl I was...I pushed the skin together and took care of my own toe.



Dorothy 6

I was very tiny for my age and flunked kindergarten.  My mother was horrified and embarrassed.  I felt so bad that I made my mommy cry.  I wanted to be a good girl.  She decided to put me in first grade anyway.

I excelled in school and learning came easy.  My teachers called me "sweet" and my music teacher, Mrs. Wells, told me I had a lovely voice.  I was asked to sing for the high school style show to be held in the cafeteria.  I was elated!  My mother promised me cowboy boots if I did a good job.  My song?

IN MY SWEET LITTLE ALICE BLUE GOWN by Joseph McCarthy & Harry Tierney

To this day, there are times when I find myself singing "In my sweet little Alice blue gown, When I first wandered down into town, I was so proud inside, As I felt every eye, And in every shop window I primped passing by."  I got my cowboy boots and everyone at the style show gushed over me telling me how cute I was and how I didn't miss a word."  Why didn't I believe them?  I was six, smart, spunky, a good kid.....a little girl allowed to roam without supervision, a little girl who was rarely hugged...a little girl who didn't hear "I love you." 

For today, this is all I can write because there are tears starting to fall.  This little girl was hungry  -- no wonder I would sing Jesus Loves Me with such gusto!

Today, I hope that you will think about the walls of silence in your own life.  Hug your children and grandchildren....tell them you love them.  Fill their subconsciousness with good stuff.  And, when times get tough and you know you've crossed the line with your kids, talk to them about it and apologize.

Praying for you all...blessings shot your way! 

Baby's Own Story

205 North Franklin Street....where my story began...

My parents, Ernest and Olive were married on January 20, 1946.  My father returned as a recently discharged war veteran on New Year's Day and my mother had resigned her position  at the office of the Farm Security Administration.  They purchased a home and began their lives together.

Their courtship days before World War II were happy, exciting ones.  My parents loved to dance at the Lakeside Ballroom, exchanged letters (I have many of their "love" letters) and I giggle as I read them.  They lived only 30 miles apart and spending time with their large families meant laughter and fun!  They made a handsome couple....a beautiful stylish brunette and a dapper young fellow who loved to dress up in suits and drive the finest of cars.  My father was full of fun to be around yet more on the quiet side while my independent mother kept the relationship rocking and rolling!

My mother was four years older than my father, so they decided to start a family right away and were so excited to be expecting their first child in December.  As I mentioned in another blog, a favorite photo of mine is of a very pregnant lady being hugged by a very proud man.

The war years changed most everyone.  My father was in the infantry and in nearly every famous battle.  My mother kept a scrapbook and a list of every "move" he made during the war.  My father didn't like to talk about the war...once when I asked him what it was like he said, "Horror, sheer horror - I sat in a fox hole for five days with my friend who had his head shot off."  He said he never wanted to talk about it again and I never asked.  Like so many of our war veterans, they suffered from post traumatic shock disorder.  I didn't know what PTSD was as that time but now I realize that PTSD took it's toll on my father and something inside of him died. 

Men and women returned from the war...sweethearts waiting....oh my gosh...the beginning of the baby boomer generation!  The problem was that many of the men and women returned as wounded physically and/or psychologically and the women and men had expectations that their relationships would be the same as before the war. 



Dorothy Bell 5 Months Old

 I arrived on December 2, 1946 at 7:40am at the Minnewaska Hospital.  I weighed 6#11oz and was 20" long.  My eyes were dark blue around the edges and light blue in the center - my hair was brown (which lightened to blonde during the summer).  My birth was cause for celebration and parties.  I was baptized in the Lutheran  Church on January 26, 1947.  My baptism, was written up in the local newspaper stating that over 30 guests were present to honor "Miss Dorothy Bell"!  I still have my baptism dress and keep telling myself that I need to have it framed.  My mother wrote in my baby book that I was a very pretty baby and had a dark brown freckle on the back of my head near my hair line.  It's still there!

My mother was very detailed in writing about me in my baby book.  It's a good thing that 205 North Franklin was a fairly large home 'cause there were lots of parties there to celebrate a myriad of occasions.

I was a precocious little rascal talking and walking by the time I was ten months old.  In my book my mother called me a "climber".  She had a hard time keeping me down from chairs, tables, stairs and that I'd had some pretty bad falls.  (I might add that my mother was pregnant with my brother who was born when I was 11 months old.)   My falls were many -- out of my baby buggy, high chair, down the stairs at home and down the basement stairs.  Who was watching me?  I know that my mother told me that I was hard for her to handle and that I drove her crazy with all my whys, hows, and read to me (I loved books and still do).  After doing much research, I think that my mother went from an independent, busy lady to a stay at home mom and motherhood wasn't quite what she pictured it would be.  No Pampers in those days and washing machines were the old wringer type.  Clothes were washed then hung outside to dry in the summer and in the basement in the winter.  With one active little girl of eleven months, my mother gave birth to a baby boy who had colic and didn't sleep for 3 months.  She told me that she was exhausted and my father was working as much overtime as he could at the Soo Line Railroad to support a family of 4.  Life began to get more and more difficult for my mother.

One night I came downstairs and found my mother crying and smoking a cigarette (my mother was a closet smoker).  I put my arms around her and asked her why she was crying...she said that my father was at the gas station with the guys (which he did most nights) and she was lonely.  I kissed her on the cheek, told her I loved her, and she said, "Off to bed, young lady!"  I can close my eyes and remember that event quite vividly.  My mother was sad a lot when I was little.  She missed working, she missed adult conversation, she missed the awards and praises she received as a "star performer" at the Farm Security Administration.  Motherhood meant work and not much praise.

When I began my childhood trauma counseling, it was pretty rough because I had so many blank spots in my life.  When I started writing in my journal with my left hand something strange began to happen...I wrote as a child.  I wrote in broken sentences and when something painful would start to come to mind, I would quickly change the subject.  At first, I could only write for a few minutes...later the snapshots began to appear and that's when my work got tough.  I wanted my family to be perfect..I wanted to be the cause of the problems because then I could fix them.  It didn't take me long to realize that I couldn't fix other people.  I needed to face the truth!  That was really tough.  With a father with PTSD and a depressed mother our family became one of secrets - neglect and emotional abuse.  I lived a shame based existence.



Me & Teddy Want to Dance

 The journal I chose was the I Hope You Dance Journal written by Mark D. Sanders & Tia Sillers.  I love the story at the beginning of the journal - I Hope You Dance and the beginning of the journal:  By the powers vested in me by me I say "Brain, start your engines!  Nonbelievers, shut your yaps!  Ready or not, here I write." 

It took a lot of courage to plot my course and keep digging.  I believe that God created me to persevere.  I am not here to judge and the words I write come from flashbacks, ancestry.com, tapping, and interviews with as many as would speak with me.  With truth has come pain BUT there has also come a peace when the anger and mourning turned to acceptance and compassion.  It's ok to say "What you did hurt me" and still love that person.

This week I had a Cervical Discogram so I've had a few days of rest and time to think about my dream board.  I haven't had a real vacation in many years other than to visit my kids...I'm thinking that I would like to go to Fredricksburg besides making a trip to Minnesota and to Florida.  I like to think BIG!



My cousin Phillip & I wish you a Great Day!!

Chat with you tomorrow!  May your dreams come true and your blessings be many!



       

Judge not by a person's outward appearance or the words said playing a role..

 Each person that God puts into our lives has a message for us.  For me, my first relationship after my divorce from my childrens' father took me from a caterpillar to a butterfly!  How wonderful to be free and fly totally mesmerized by the world about me!

My first job outside the home taught me a great deal.  I was first to arrive in the mornings and my fingers were stuck to my typewriter, my typing speed increasing each week.  A couple weeks after I started work, I would find a note under my typewriter that said, “Good morning bright eyes".  It always put a smile on my face and no matter how tough life was, those words gave me confidence to keep on learning and growing.  Sometimes, other than a note, there would be a poem.  Naive as I was, I just thought it was someone encouraging the new kid on the block.  Every now and then, a man by the name of Joe would stop by my desk to say good morning and wish me a good day.  The secretary sitting by me could be rather harsh and abrupt and would instruct me on keeping my nose to the grindstone because one of the Senior Vice Presidents checked to make sure everything was moving smoothly in the typing pool.  One morning, she said, “Oops, get going, he’s coming down the aisle.”  I looked up and it was Joe.  As usual he said good morning.    This time, her mouth dropped and she said, “Do you know him?”  I responded yes, said that he was a very nice man,  and dropped the subject.  She glared at me.

After several months, Joe asked me out to dinner after work – my curiosity got the best of me and I said yes. For quite some time, we would meet for dinner at Papa’s Porch.  It was nice to have another adult to talk to and Joe was an Italian from New York and I would get the biggest kick out of listening to him slaughter the English language!  When I left my job and went to another, it freed us to date without worrying about the office gossip.  It was a solid relationship based on honesty and fun.  One day he invited me to lunch and asked me to marry him.  I reluctantly said yes.  There were some differences between the two of us and once we started talking about them, they got even bigger.

I was Lutheran and he was Catholic.  He refused to go to church with me and he was a C & E (Christmas & Easter) Catholic who rarely went to church.  Joe was a liberal and I was a conservative…Joe didn’t see anything wrong with using “pot.”  Since Alcohol had played such a big part in the demise of my first marriage, I drank rarely and did not condone the use of any type of recreational drugs.  There came a day that I knew a marriage between the two of us would be a disaster.  We loved and respected one another but as far as building a life together, the writing was on the wall.  The relationship ended rather abruptly and Joe was hurt and quite angry.

Some years later we connected and had dinner.  I was able to thank him for all the good he did for me and how much I appreciated who he was as a person.  By then, he had grown as well and had realized the dangerous route that recreational drugs can take.  We were both dating different people by then and were happy to have had the opportunity to clear the air.

Personally, I think that all the people that God brings into our lives bring important messages.  All we need to do is listen.  I’ve always been fortunate enough to have friends to talk things over with and have solid moral values.  I had been so beaten down after my first marriage that often times I was afraid of my own shadow.  I had been so sheltered not knowing about men who were not so much on the up and up.

I will always be grateful to Joe for helping me to peck out of my shell and start working on my self-confidence.  I will be grateful for his patience, love and the good he saw in me.

This is the last poem he tucked under my typewriter and I read it often:

“Judge not by a person’s outward appearance or the words said playing a role…

Measure a person by the honesty of their inner spirit and the brightness of their soul.”

~~Unknown Poet

Thanks, Joe, I don't know where you are now but I wish you love and happiness!

The Priviledge to Work



Dottie at 50!

                   
The big 5-0!! Oh, what an exciting day that was!!

One thing that you can't say about my life is that it has never ever been unexciting or dull.   My curiosity has always spurred me on to try something new.  For the most part the jobs I have chosen have been interesting, adventuresome, challenging and fun.  It has been at the forefront of my mind that when a job becomes dull, uninteresting, or demeaning, it was time to move on!

For many years I was a wife, mom and household engineer.  I loved it!  When my marriage of 15 years fell apart, I did too.  I think I nearly scrubbed the kitchen floor until there was no linoleum left!  Oh I had sold Avon...babysat...gotten my real estate sales license...the usual things to earn some extra money but as far as holding down a job that would support me and my three children, I was lost and didn't know how to begin.

I've always been a survivor and overcomer and when it came to supporting my kids, I was a Mama Bear.  I interviewed at a company as a typist.  I didn't know much about interviewing but at the interview I remember saying, "Look, I have three kids to support and I want this job.  I can start tomorrow!"  The engineer I was talking to looked pretty surprised and I almost fell over when he told me I was hired.  It wasn't long before and I was promoted and an even shorter time when I was recruited to work for a vice president for an insurance company.  I would worry about not being able to "do the job" but somehow, it would just work out.  I was once again recruited as a Human Resources secretary...then, as an administrative manager for  a computer company.  It was when I was about 40 that I began to use my writing skills and received an award as world-wide employee for the company I worked for.  I needed to feed my kids and God provided more than enough for us.  My new husband and I started a company called Guardian Medical.  It was a good time in my life and I was reveling in good fortune.

With the ups of life, there are also the down times.  There came a time when I needed to pick up the pieces of my life and move on.  The hard part in all of this is that it is most difficult to pick yourself up when your heart and mind are falling apart.  Then, again, I've learned that when times are the toughest, I can get down on my knees, check out every possibility and keep on keepin' on!

One night, I was perusing the newspaper for job ads and came across a job as a Member Advisor for a dating service.  I think because it was worded so interestingly, I circled it and called the next day.  I drove in to Dallas for look see of what the dating service business was all about.  The building was beautiful and as I walked up the winding staircase, I stopped to look at the portraits of couples who had met and married through this service.  I interviewed with several different people and was most interested in the owner of the company who quizzed me most about being commissioned a Stephen's Minister.  He asked me about what I could bring to the Centre and I realized that this position was composed of ALL the things I had done in the past and wanted to do in the future.  It was another one of those times that I asked for a job and got a whole lot more than I asked for.

The five years that I worked for this dating service was one of the most fun years of my life.  I started out as Member Advisor to +/- 5,000 singles.  The service had a library where members could shop for dates, a photo studio, a video studio, a make-over studio and on and on.  I took over writing the Relationship Corner as well as the Dr. Romance column.  I had also taken over the matchmaking of our elite members who were not in the library books and developed the Dating University.  I became engrossed in anything having to do with matchmaking and relationships.  Susan Bradley, who wrote HOW TO BE IRRESISTIBLE TO THE OPPOSITE SEX, was a great help besides being an optimistic, funny friend to be around.  I did some flirting safaris with Susan and participated in a radio program.  One night we decided to take a group to Dallas to a bar/restaurant to teach them to flirt.  One little lady had just come from a square dancing class and was still in her dance wear.  She walked up to this young, good-looking guy and said "I'm here to learn how to flirt, would you mind if I flirted with you?"  Pretty soon everyone in the bar/restaurant knew there was a Flirting Safari going on and lots of laughing and learning being passed around.  It seems odd to open a magazine, newspaper, or turn on the TV and recognize some of my clients.  I smile remembering.....

In the 2000's, I entered the insurance world.  I was so fortunate because, I had a great teacher, fun bosses, and a group of employees that became like family.  Time flew by and at the end of my fifth year, our division was sold.  We have quarterly breakfasts, email and keep in touch.  I miss all of them soooo much!

In 2003, I had a 360 back surgery and from there six foot surgeries, another 2 back surgeries and a short time ago fusions in my neck.  Yesterday, I had a discogram and could face another fusion in my neck.  I am grateful for the doctors who have helped me live a pretty normal life.  The one thing though that has become blatantly clear is that IT'S A PRIVILEGE TO WORK.  My days in the work force are probably over and I mourn that.  I've searched my mind as to how I can serve my fellowman.  My blog is one way, I can tell my story and help others to be encouraged.  I am about to start a card ministry at church and oh how I love spending time with my children and grandchildren.  I keep thinking about ways I can keep busy ... my garden ... my dogren ... interior design ... Bible study...  It's just a different time of life...

"Sometimes people have a hard time figuring out what to do in certain situations.  Answers aren't always clear.  Psalm 143:10 says "You are my God,  Show me what you want me to do, and let your gentle Spirit lead me in the right path."

Relax, and remember, it's not the destination, it's the journey!!  Enjoy every moment of your day!!

God bless you and wrap you tightly in his arms!

The Encouragement of My Son

Father, because of Your Word I am an overcomer.  I overcome the world, the flesh and the devil, by the Blood of the Lamb and the word of my testimony.  (1John 4:4, Rev. 12:11)

My blog contains snapshots of different times in my life that are relevant to me.  There are many events that have transformed me and given me strength in ministering to others.

On December 16, 1974, I gave birth to a little boy.  My labor and his birth were difficult and we both faced death.  We're both fighters and thank God we are here to celebrate life together.  This little boy was wise beyond his years and now as a young man he is still a fighter and an overcomer.  I feel so fortunate to have had the experience of not only being Tommy's mom but also mother to Jill and Jane.

In 1972, our family moved to Plano, TX and we became charter members of Resurrection Lutheran Church.  The time our family was involved there was a time of fellowship, growing and giving.  Today, I want to share my journal entry from Summer 1986.

It was a warm summer night in 1986.  I tossed and turned  in my bed trying to make sense of the Bible passage before me.  I felt lost and couldn't concentrate.  Even the hum of the ceiling fan was a major distraction.  Tears welled up in my eyes blurring the words I needed so desperately to digest.

Whoa...my young son, Tommy bounded into my room, crawled in beside me and with an impish grin placed his newest masterpiece in my hands.

Der Mom,

Take your cacume down off

the shelf

try it on

and be youre self

be pashent and wait

a week

break rite out and

go an seek and seek

Love, Tommy

I smiled and gathered this enthusiastic little man into my arms.  "Be patient...go and seek..."  Well, he was right but where did I go from there?  I was afraid - my friend, Joan, had talked to me about the Stephen Ministry Program as had Yutaka.  "Who, me, Lord?"  Somehow, I heard the calling and vowed to make that phone call to Yutaka in the morning.  My tears dried that night and the words of  "here I am, Lord, please guide me" filled my heart and I rested.

After weeks of sharing, caring, and instruction in the Stephen Ministry Program, I was soon to be an official Stephen Minister.  Was I ready?  You bet!  I had some delay when surgery interrupted my readiness and my fellow ministers ministered to me and to my children.  First hand, I learned the value and importance of the Stephen Ministry Program.

For me, being a Stephen Minister has meant a new way of relating to those around me and has become a way of life.  My sensitivity and awareness has increased.  I can't help noticing that tear in someone's eye; a lowered stance; and, yes, I'm even more aware of the different sounds of laughter!  More importantly, being a Stephen Minister has meant "action".  In our world of "me first" and "looking out for #1" those "me firsts" have given way to lending an outstretched hand, listening, and caring.  Before taking the Stephen Ministry class, I had taken a Word & Witness class which had supplied the "seed".  Now, with the Stephen Ministry Program ... I just had to remember:  "Supply the caring - and, let God supply the cure."

I'm still scared - especially when my own troubles overwhelm me.  It's strange though, by helping others, my troubles seem smaller.  I've learned that Stephen Ministers don't have to have all the answers...they only need to have a willingness to be of service to others and have faith that God is working behind the scenes.

I thank God for allowing me to grow through the Word & Witness Program of 18 months and the one year Stephen Ministry Program at Resurrection.  I especially thank  Him for speaking through my son that night as he shared his poem with me.  As I venture out discovering all that I can be, I hold out my hand for those who want to walk along with me.


It's time for a rest on the back porch...Have a great day and God bless you all!  Talk with you tomorrow..



My #1 Son, Tommy & his #1 Son, Zachary!



Sticks & Stones May Break My Bones but Words May Never Hurt Me!

Welcome to my world ... won't you come on in ... miracles occur every now and then ...  Oh how I love that song!  It's such a beautiful day and the outdoors is beakoning!

We've all heard the saying, "Na, na, na, na ... sticks and stones may break my bones but words may never hurt me!  How very untrue.  Today's blog is on the power of words.

This past week, I was talking to an old friend about a business transaction and he asked me how I was doing.  I proceeded to tell him about my surgeries but that I was getting much better.  Before I could finish my sentence, he said that he was going to send me a tract written by Charles Capps on God's Creative Power for Healing.  He also asked that I let him know what I thought of it.  I WILL be making that phone call this week.

I am a word person...I love reading the printed word, writing, crossword puzzles...  I even have words stenciled in my kitchen and the first room you see when you enter my home.  My husband has a very soothing voice and I love it when he reads to me.  I often take words quite literally and I abhore scarcasm. 

To let you know how easily words enter our minds, let me share an event with you.  Some years ago, I was at a Chamber of Commerce event and was invited to attend a new church.  The church was quite different than any I have ever attended.  They had a rockin' choir and jumped up and down when they sang their songs.  I was quite taken back at all the commotion but at one point, they started singing a song over and over ... FAITH...FAITH...FAITH CAN MOVE A MOUNTAIN.  I've never forgotten those words.  In one of my more playful moods, I thought, "Hey, I'm going to try this out."  Now imagine a woman in her 50's standing in front of a full length mirror jumping up and down shouting FAITH...FAITH...FAITH CAN MOVE A MOUNTAIN.  I laughed until tears streamed down my face.  But, something happened inside of me that day and I have never been the same since.  Later at my own church, I was tested for spiritual gifts to see how I could best serve in church...what was my highest score?  Faith!!

Charles Capps says that our words are building blocks of which we contruct our lives and futures.  Our words set the cornerstones of our lives and we live within the confines of those boundaries we create with our own words.  Situations, circumstances and conditions are all subject to change, but with the support of our words we can establish them in our lives forever.  I believe that ...  I had to take out the old tapes and replace them with words of truth, confirmation and affirmation ... words that built me up to be the woman I was created to be.  I'm never going to be perfect but I am a work in progress going in the right direction.  I can choose to accept words spoken to me or literally hold my hand up and say "no".  I can be assertive without feeling guilty.

I have had this drive since the mid 1980's to be whole in mind, spirit, and body.  Something inside of me wouldn't let me rest.   As it says in Scott Peck's book, I took the road less traveled and that has made all the difference.  I have marched to the tune of my own drum and have found my adventures filled with twists and turns some good some not so good.  Through it all, I am convinced from my study of the Word of God that my own words can change me for better or worse.

The Lord is the Great Physician and it is He who I consult with.  Am I saying that I don't believe in doctors?  Heck no...without Dr. JC, I wouldn't be walking...without Dr. CC, I wouldn't have a strong spine and neck.  BUT, both doctors have been totally amazed at how quickly I have bounced back from some pretty intensive surguries.  My husband and I have made a pact not to continually discuss how I "feel".  I keep him informed of doctor's reports and visits but prefer to focus on wellness.  I can feel pretty miserable but I have a choice whether to lay in bed and dwell on that OR, get moving and do something of interest.  So many times, I feel so much better doing it that way.

When I speak about my faith, it creates a stronger image inside me.  On my path to wholeness, the new image I have of :me" has been perfected and I see myself as God sees me - not as a victim but as an overcomer!  Mr. Capps says that hope is important but hope lacks substance until filled with faith.  HOPE is only a goal-setter.  FAITH gives substance to my hope of wholeness.

God says that His Word will not return to Him void.  As an intercessor, I stand in the gap for many believing in the power of prayer.  I've prayed to be put on the front lines as a prayer warrier.  It's a scarry prospect because believe me, when you put on the armor of the Lord, the evil one is on the move.  And, he is a force to be reckoned with.  I pray whenever the urge strikes...I am sure that people have wondered who in the world I am talking to driving down the freeway ... oh well ...  

Guess, I've rattled on long enough today.  My reminder is this ... be careful what you say ... speak words that build up not tear down.  If you must confront, do it in love not anger.   Michael, Toby and Sadie are gone for the day.  It's just me and Khelsea and I think Khelsea's motto is a good one ... LIVE LAUGH LOVE!  Enjoy your day!!