Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Seeing my father again was something I did not expect, but it did not really change my life all that much. Other than knowing for sure that he was out of prison, he was not really part of my life. After that weekend, we went back to the Children's home and back to a routine. Each day started just as the day before, and continued as the day before and ended as the day before. Saturdays were spent cleaning the cottage, walking into the tiny town, getting ready for Sunday, visiting with the other girls and watching tv. Sundays were spent going to church in the morning, coming home for Sunday dinner and waiting for someone to come and visit. I didn't count on someone coming to visit, so I spent my afternoon doing homework and being with my little cat. Ah, routine. This was a time in the school year, early in winter that was just before the holidays started and a pleasant expected routine brought comfort and security. Little events spiced up the days, small things that gave me something to talk about, but for the most of it, life was quiet and uneventful. Of course I looked forward to the holidays, perhaps this year my father would be there for Thanksgiving or Christmas. Once in awhile something happened that shook me up, I guess fate has a sense of humor. One such incident happened on an early frosty morning. We had boarded the school bus for the long drive into Hapeville, and were talking and just being teenagers. We had bundled up for the cold, and since it was one of the first really cold days of the season, the conversation was mostly about the weather. That day, the temperature hovered just below freezing and a light sleeting rain fell quietly. Before we knew it, we were at school and getting off the bus. The bus let us out a distance from the doors, in an open parking lot that prohibited other cars from parking there. I remember turning my head to say something to someone, stepping down from the high bus steps and slipping. I fell quiet hard, but I also slid under the bus when I fell. I hit my head on the pavement, and was stunned for a moment. I didn't know what had happened, but soon I realized that I had fallen and was under the bus near the engine. I clearly remember the feeling of cold that permeated my legs and arms as I lay on the icy pavement. It was dark under there and the fumes from the engine were very strong. I thought to myself that it was funny how much head room there is under a bus. Then, in a second of panic, I knew that if I didn't get out from under the bus, I would be run over and crushed when it started up and left again. I tried to wiggle out the way I had slid under, but could not get any traction. I heard someone ask where I had gone. I yelled that I was under the bus, but I guess the noise from the engine was louder than me. Time seemed to crawl as I began to panic. Then, I got an inspiration. I took my book bag by the handle and swung it over my head out from under the edge of the bus. Lucky for me, the book bag hit the foot of one of the kids and they looked down to see why. Squatting down, he saw me under the bus and began to scream, "don't take off! Jodie is under the bus!" I heard the brakes as they were applied with a whoosh and squeal and then saw many faces peering at me in wonder.
The questions flew hard and fast. "What happened? What are you doing under the bus? Did you fall? Are you hurt?" The bus driver had leapt from the bus and reached under to help me. She grabbed my hand and pulled, and I slid toward her as easily as I had slid under the bus. Her face was white as chalk and she looked like she was going to have a heart attack. I was certainly the center of attention as I tried to stand and show everyone that I was alright. The bus driver as so anxious, and hugged me in relief. In those days, if you felt alright then you were. None of this "off to the hospital just to check you out" stuff. Believe it or not, I gathered my bookbag, laughed at everyone's concern and walked right into school. Other than being damp and cold and having a slight headache, I was no worse for the experience. Looking back, I know that I had a really close call, but as in every other trial in my life, it turned out alright and I have a great story to tell about it. One really great bonus to this event was that Coach Denning came up to me later and asked me if I was okay. My heart fluttered with joy that he would even care that I had almost been crushed. That alone was worth being slammed to the icy pavement, hitting my head and sliding under a running bus! Oh, the joys of youth!

Friday, January 22, 2010

What a surprise!

It was not long after my epiphany of life that I received news that Mother was going to have us visit her for a weekend. I didn't take that seriously, but still I looked forward to the possibility that we might spend some time together. As the week came to a close, it seemed that indeed, I would be spending the weekend with my brothers at Mother's apartment. I packed a light bag and when the taxi arrived to pick me up I told Mindy that I would see her on Sunday night. I wondered what Mother had planned for us. Looking into the back seat of the taxi, I saw that my brothers, Kenny and George had already been picked up. Kenny greeted my with a huge smile of joy and welcome, and George was his usual taciturn self. Mother was still at the apartment, waiting for us, and we began the long ride into Atlanta for the weekend.
Mother's apartment was in downtown Atlanta. It was on the 19th floor of a high-rise complex that was modern and new. As you got off the elevator, the door to the apartment was down the hall to the left. The boys and I arrived to exit the taxi into a blustery wind that whistled between the tall buildings of the downtown area. My hair was tossed and my clothes plastered to my body, as I tried to keep a good grip on my suitcase. Gripping Kenny's hand, we ran into the building between large glass doors that led to a marble covered floor and gleaming brass door handles. The lobby was lighted brightly with artwork on the walls and a guard seated at a front desk. He seemed to know who we were, as he motioned us to go ahead onto the elevator. It was a quick, quite ride that whispered past 18 floors straight up to the 19th floor. A bell softly dinged as the door opened to the hallway that would take us to Mother's apartment. I was wrangling Kenny and his suitcase through the elevator door and was not paying much attention to Mother's door. I heard a gasp from George, and glanced around to see what he was looking at. In confusion, I saw a man standing in the doorway to Mother's apartment. He was dressed casually, with a light colored polo shirt, grey pants and wore glasses. His hair was an auburn color, cut short with a slight wave on top. He stood there, rather tentatively and for a second, I wondered who he was. Then, I saw it. The slight turning of his head to the left to better see due to a severe vision problem in the left eye, let me know without a doubt who this man was. I screamed, "Daddy"!
I dropped everything and ran to him. In the seconds it took to reach my father, many things occurred to me. Although I knew that this was indeed my father, he had changed so very much. I was taller than he was! He was much smaller than I remembered, I suppose because he had lost so much weight in prison. I was not afraid of him, indeed I was so overjoyed to see him. Most of all, I was proud that I was so grown up and mature. In the past months that I had been writing to him, he became more of a friend than a father. I had not seen him in at least 5 years, but as soon as I wrapped my arms around his neck, he was daddy once again to me. I didn't have time for the fear that always accompanied my presence with Dad- thank God for that. I was just too surprised that he was actually right in front of me. George was babbling around us too, but Kenny did not really know who his father was. Kenny had been very small when our parents divorced, and Dad did not come around very much after that. In that moment, my fear or aversion did not come to fore, for a moment it was just me and the man that was my father. As I threw myself on him in a crushing embrace, he grunted with surprise and embraced me back. Then, drawing slightly away, still embracing me, he observed me with a tender expression. "Can this be my little Jodie? Is it possible that she has become so beautiful? I can't believe it is really you!" he exclaimed. The whole space in time was unreal, but of course it was real and finally, once again, we were father and daughter. My father. Right here in front of me. It seemed that my life was full of surprises and rewards- one after the other. Later, after visiting for some time, Dad said he had to leave, but would return when he could. He lived near Dallas and was working for a newpaper there. I did not know it at the time, but he also had been living with a woman and her children. He had a whole other family. I would learn of this later. I didn't even know how long he had been released from prison, I knew it had been for some short while, as he had been going to visit us at the home. He had a whole other life, with other people in it, a life that did not include me or my brothers. As I mentioned, I did not know of this other life- I only knew that he was back in mine if for only a little while.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Once again, I am back! I had the flu and I cannot believe how sick I was. I couldn't even sit up to write, but things are better and I am back!

Now to continue the Children's Home Experience.

When I left off, I had had a life changing spiritual experience that has shaped my life even till today. That experience was the basis of my sure knowlege that Heavenly Father lives and loves all of his children, and even when things are very grave, he is there, watching over me and you and guiding us with his wisdom and love. As I walked back to the cottage from having stood over the swimming pool with the desire to end my life, I basked in the feelings of excitement knowing that I would have a good life and one day, would find love and happiness. In my young mind, if Heavenly Father said so, then it would be. From dispair to elation, my life had changed in one moment, one experience. I now knew that I didn't have to be anything but a teenager going through teenaged things. My future was secure, and although I could not have know how difficult that security would be to obtain, just knowing that a wonderful future awaited me gave me freedom beyond measure. So what if no one came to visit me? One day I would be important to someone special. I would have babies to whom I would be the whole world. I had food, shelter, friends and intelligence, everything I needed to make the most of my situation. And, what was my situation anyway? Where did I stand in the grand scheme of life? I went to my room, took out some paper and began to make a list. Who was I? Well, I was a young girl, born to parents that had difficulties of their own, granddaughter to grandparents that were very special, sister to two brothers who I loved and who loved me. I was kind, loving and cared for the feelings of others. I had regular pity parties for myself, until I looked around and saw what real difficulty entailed. I could smile. I had fear. Fear that I would get into trouble, fear that I would not be liked or accepted, fear that I would never be skinny and beautiful, fear that my family life was forever behind me, and fear of so many other things. I also had confidence. I was sure of my ability to make the best of any situation, sure of the power of honesty and courage, sure of the goodness of being kind, and sure that I could bring a smile to anyone who perhaps needed me. In between fear and confidence, I had insecurity. I was not like the other girls. If body shape made you accepted, then that was forever out of my reach. I was yet too young to know that being unique was not a bad thing if you could use that uniqueness for postive experiences for myself and others. So, at the time, I still equated a perfect body with success. That would take a long time to change for me, but I had the gift of reality, knowing that my happiness depended on what I could do with what I had. I knew that I could not be a part of the group at the home, as they had little regard for the consequences of breaking regulations. As long as they did not get caught, then it was alright to do anything. So, who was I? A young girl carving out a path in life with uncertainities, and the ability to make that path as good and bearable as possible.
Where in life was I? Hardly anchored to anything, no place to really call home base, floating in a sea of islands that I was unable or afraid to connect to. What were these Islands? One was disobedience. To partake of the social life of many of those around me, I would have to choose disobedience and disregard for regulation. I would have plenty of company, but this would mean that I would have to abandon my work and study ethic, my moral quilt, my ability to be true to myself. This sounds abhorrant, but what I am saying is that those with whom I would associate to be popular did not share my goals, and in order to be a part of the "crowd", I would have to abandon my goals of good grades, good character and self-worth. Would it be worth it to be popular? To be accepted? Yo a young girl, maybe. To me? No. I would continue to be the object of ridicule due to my determination to make good grades, attend church and stay out of trouble. Another Island was self-pity. I felt sorry for myself because I did not have a strong family unit. I wanted a family like those on TV, like "Leave It to Beaver", like "The Donna Reed Show" and others. I wanted to sit down at dinner and talk about my day, have my father be amused at my antics and my mother there to talk to me and solve my problems. I wanted to go to bed at night knowing I would wake up the next day with nothing more to think about than what I would wear to school and if I could make it on the cheer squad. Yes, the island of self-pity called strongly to me, but somehow I avoided it as much a possible. Another Island was self-worth. Was that a place that I could be? Could I let my self-worth be the guiding post in my life? I hope not, as I had very little self-worth. So, where was I in life? I was constantly swimming, dog paddling, and staying afloat, trying to avoid the negative islands that threatened to trap me. Good thing I am a strong swimmer. One island that I tried to anchor to was the island of love, caring and compassion. I could not always stay on that island, but I tried to be there as much as possible. I found great joy in feeling the joy and gratitude of those with whom I associated and accepted in spite of their differences. I did not know it, but part of that island was mysterious and dark. It was the part that required love, caring and compassion for myself. I could not find that area of this island, and so, even though there was happiness there, I could not find it concerning me. In my mind, I was fat, ugly, tall, had big feet and no beauty. I disguised this well though, and was outgoing and friendly, telling myself that it didn't matter who I was or how I looked. But wait-Heavenly Father had told me that I was special. That I deserved love, that I was loved. So, who was telling me differently? And then I got it! I was different, but I was not bad. I was good. I was unique and I was good. Right then, at that very moment, I vowed that when those bad feelings came on me, no matter what the source, I would try to remember the moment when I realized that I was good. I would come to realize that this is much easier to desire than to do, but that pivotal moment in my life, when I was making my list and realized that I was good and would continue to be good if I strived to do so was the start of the life that would turn out to be more than I could ever imagine. And when people would say to me, "oh, how have you turned out to be so happy after everything you have been through?", I would smile and say, "I am just lucky I guess!" And, as you will see as I continue to write The Children's Home Experience" many wonderful experiences awaited me, as well as some troubling ones. The difference is that I now had ammunition to face trouble and stand strong.

Monday, January 4, 2010

I was loved

There had been some really big changes in my life. I was now in the 9th grade and loving it, I had a major crush on my English instructor, I had a loving little pet to keep me company, and out of the blue I had received a letter from my father telling me that he was coming to see me. He had been released from prison and was starting a new life and he wanted to bring his family together again. He wrote that he was going to visit me on a Sunday afternoon in the near future. This was a real wake-up call. I had learned to love being in the home, there was so much for me there. I had learned so much about myself, the freedom of having confidence in myself, and the pleasure in life of knowing that so much more awaited me. My dad had said that he wanted to bring his family back together again, but was that something that I wanted? It wouldn't be a family with my parents together, I knew that for sure, and I had had some pretty hard experiences with dad and his temper. I didn't know if that had changed, nor did I know if alcohol would be a problem. In the home, I had become accostomed to a schedule, to school, to work and to so many other things. I felt comfortable in my surroundings, and had even almost forgotten the situation I was in before coming to the home. I no longer expected Mother to take us out of the home. I really didn't even want to leave, I didn't want to experience major changes in my life again. I was happy right where I was. This did not mean that I didn't want to see my Father after so many years. There were some times we had spent together that I did remember with fondness, and I did want to see him and reunite with him. I had been ten years old when he went into prison, and I was another completely different person now. Thinking about it, I wanted to impress him with who I was. I knew he would like me if we could get to know each other again. I really had no intention of starting to be a family with him again, but I did want to know him. The Sunday that he was to visit arrived and for days I had been a nervous wreck. What if he didn't like me? What if he was dissapointed with me? What if he wanted me to go with him right away? I stayed awake many nights with such questions rolling around in my head. That Sunday, I dressed with extra care before church and figited for the whole church service. My stomach hurt, my nerves were shot and I was so nervous. I couldn't eat lunch, and I kept watching the clock. Dad had not said what time he was coming, so I didn't know for sure when he would get there. The afternoon wore on as I sat in front of the bay window in the visiting room. Each time a car went by, I jumped up and ran to the door. Time passed but none of the cars were arriving for me. I paced the carpet, waiting, waiting. I sat down again, and chewed my nails. I looked at the clock and to my surprise, it was after four o'clock in the afternoon. Some of the other girls had been picked up for visits from their family, and I was still waiting for my father to arrive. All of the witty conversation that I had planned began to seep from my mind. Was it possible that he was not coming? It was fourty miles from Atlanta where he would drive from, perhaps he got lost. I began to lose hope. When the clock struck five o'clock, I knew that he was not coming. Why? Why was he not there as he had said he would be? Why? I decided that I would walk to the gates at the entrance of the home in case he was still coming and I would see him when he arrived. The usually long walk was very short that evening. Before I knew it, I was at the gates, alone. Then, like a tidal wave all of the doubts, fears and insecurities came crashing over me. I was no one special. Nothing had changed. No one gave a damn about me, no one. How could I have been so stupid to believe that Dad or anyone would want to spend any time with me? I clearly saw the truth for what it was. I was alone in the world and had no one to turn to. The pain in my heart was crushing me. Suddenly it was clear what I had to do. There was nothing for me in this world of pain, no where to go, no future. I was insignificant, a speck on the highway of life, and if I died, no one would care. But I realized that if I died, the pain would stop and I would have peace at last. What a wonderful thought-dying- and having no more pain. There was no one to stop me, no one who would bother to stop me. I would simply be gone. Clearly the plan formed in my mind. I would just jump in the deep end of the swimming pool and stay under until I had drowned. The pool was only a short distance from where I was standing and even though the air was very chilly, it didn't matter. With determination, I walked to the pool. It seemed as though a loving friend was reaching out to comfort me, calling me to let it end my misery. The rays of the fading sun rippled through the clear water as I stood on the edge of the pool. I was an excellent swimmer, but I was determined to stay under until I was dead. "Come to me" the water seemed to whisper. I don't know how long I stood there, but suddenly, from behind, someone put their arms around me and whispered in my ear, "My daughter, I love you. Don't do this. Your life will be more magnificent than you can imagine. You have children waiting for you and a companion that will love you forever. Step back, have courage. You are not alone. I love you". Time stopped for me in that instant. I felt the arms of love encircling me, I heard the words of love and encouragement. I knew, so powerfully, that those were heavenly arms, and heavenly words. I stepped back from the edge of the pool. The darkness and desperation lifted. My mind filled with light, and a powerful, strengthening surge of love and courage jolted throughout my whole being. I was loved! I was special! I would have love, children and a wonderful life in my future! I knew then, that I had to spend the next few years preparing for the future that had been promised to me. I realized that tears were coursing from my eyes, but they were tears of joy. That was the defining moment in my life. I has so much worth, that Heavenly Father took the time to assure me of his love and faith in me. I would never let him down. As I walked back to the cottage in the twilight of the evening, I had tender thoughts of my father. He would have come if he had been able, I knew that. I held no resentment. I was loved, and that was all that mattered.