What kind of God does that?

“Oh my god what have you done! This is all your fault! You are such a fucking idiot! You’re such a dumb fuck! You fucking bitch, how could you do this?” His anger was strong, his face was red from screaming. His eyes bulging, as he paced back and forth flaying his hands in the air. 

I sat sobbing, my face in my hands, heart broken for my daughter. 

I had no idea the puppy would jump off the porch. I tied her there so I could clean the laundry room, where we kept her. I didn’t know she’d jump, didn’t know it was a life threatening action.
He continued screaming.”you fucking bitch! I hate you! Everyone hates you! Ahhhh! All of this is your fault! This is a sign from God that you’re living in sin, your not right with God! You better listen! You better wake up!” 

Now he is within inches of my face. I could feel the heat from his words and smell the morning coffee on his breath. Flicks of spit were hitting my face with each word he muttered.

I had ceased to hear what he was saying. I had gone into my catatonic self preservation state. Staring through him, at nothing. My own thoughts screaming in my head, “Why God, WHY would you let this happen??”

It all started with my daughter wanting  a yellow lab puppy so bad. 

We couldn’t afford one. Every time she would ask we would tell her to pray for one because she was determined to have a yellow lab. 

Finally she decided to do just that, she began praying. I instructed her on how to pray and how to ask God for a promise. She had her bible verse promise and she prayed daily for that puppy. I told her “sometimes God might give us something a little different then what we pray for”. So not to expect it to be a lab.

One day one of our church members heard she had been praying for a puppy and said their daughters dog had a litter of pups and asked if we were interested in the last one. When we asked what kind they were Mrs Kennedy said that Lynettes dog had a litter of full blood yellow labs.

My heart fluttered and a small tear entered my eye. God was answering my daughters prayer exactly how she wanted! But there was still the issue of money, Pure Bred dogs are expensive. We didn’t say anything to Lydia, we just told her to keep praying that God would “give” her a puppy. 

Later that evening Mrs. Kennedy called Phil and told him that she and Ed wanted to give it to Lydia as a gift. 

I could not contain my happiness! 

The next day Ed  and Bonita brought the puppy to our house. We kept it a secret. When they handed the pup to Lydia she burst into tears. Dottie was absolutely everything she had been praying for. 

I felt such accomplishment. We had taught our daughter to pray for the things she wanted and also taught her that God answers prayers.
He has turned his anger up and out yelling and screaming at God, “where are you? You don’t exist!” Then he’d turn and scream into the air in front of him, “Satan I hate you! Get out of my house!” As spit fell down his chin. He gripped his grilling spatula and started beating his brand new grill. A fathers day gift from all the children. He beat it over and over repeatedly until it was nothing more than a curled up jumbled mess.

I’m thinking past all the screaming words and violence. I do not care what he’s saying about or to me or to God, Satan or that grill.

Where is my daughter? Is she ok? Her gift snatched from her in just a few short days – what kind of God does that? What kind of God answers a prayer exactly the way you prayed it and then suddenly takes it away? Who does that? Why? 

I never received an answer that day. My daughter has pushed the incident to the back of her memories calling her the “dog who committed suicide”.

I wanted to die that day. It wasn’t the first time nor would it be the last.



“”Wow! You should write a book!” He shook his head in amazement mixed with bewilderment and perplexity.

I rolled my eyes, took a deep breath and looked up. I Shook my head in agreement. (If I had a dollar for everytime someone told me that, I would have enough money to actually publish the book!)

He continued, “No, I’m being serious.”

Tears started to fill my eyes, I didnt even want to come into his office today, but my daughter requested that I be in there this time. I laughed mockingly and said, “Yes, I know, but I’m not ready to revisit it.”

His face cringed as he realized that my daughters therapy session could easily turn into my therapy session. “I understand,  but just when you think that MAYBE you can, then that is the percise time to do it. It may even help you get some closure.”

 “Closure” But I am over my ex! or at least I thought I was. MAYBE it is time.MAYBE this is it. MAYBE this is the beginning, to the end.

That day

That day.

I remember exactly where I was standing. 

The time of day, the lighting in the house. 

It was evening, so, the sun was lowering in the sky casting shadows in that kitchen. 

I stood by the enormous stainless Steel fridge. 

I was wiping the microwave when I asked her, “so you saw it?” 

She shook her head “yes”.

 I said, “ewww… Gross! That must have been scarring! Those things are ugly!” (Referring to her oldest brothers penis). 

Right then I knew I had to ask the next question, even though I didn’t want to know the answer. 

“So, did he try to stick it in? In you?” 

Her eyes never looked up at me, as she said, “yeah, I told him to stop because it hurt but he said he was ‘almost there’. ”

I know my facial expressions changed. 

I now had information that could put my son away in prison for years.

I am in shock. 

She still isn’t making eye contact with me, but she trusted me enough to tell me the truth. I couldn’t let her down.  I didn’t.

I asked her where and when and got more details. 

One thing is for sure, I will never forget that day. The place, the time nor the time of year. 

That day. The beginning of many that would send me and my family down an emotional roller coaster of a journey. 

That day. That knowledge. We will never forget.

That day.

It finally happenedĀ 

It finally happenedĀ 

I’ve been bottled up for quite some timeI was beginning to wonder if I had lost my tears

Or if I’d forgotten how to cry
My daughter said today, “you used to be so happy ”

But I couldn’t tell her half the reasons why I lost my smile 

She’d feel guilty and regret her confessions.
So I pawned it off in her two hoodlum brothers who can’t seem to stay off of drugs or out of trouble … Yeah, them… They’re the reason I stay exhausted and emotionless 
But the truth is due to a combination of things…
This week I sifted through the belongings of my son… The one in prison… I wasn’t prepared for that walk down memory lane.

This evening I called he sheriff on my 2 “hoodlum” no s for smoking pot out back….
I have so many goals … So many dreams… This is not how my family was supposed to turn out… 

I still have more goals and dreams but am finding it harder and harder to see how they can or will be accomplished.
So tonight … It happened… 
I cried
Everything bottled up started to ooze out… Just enough so that I could tighten the seal back up.

Here I sit. 

Emotionless again.


Sitting in a 10×10 room. There are 7 of us. 4 chairs and a table with 2 magazines.
Everyone around me is giggling and laughing tying to make light of a very heavy situation.
I’m sitting on the floor. I feel as though I’m just a fly on the wall. Their antics are not funny to me. Their mirth just irritates me.
I have tunnel vision. It’s as if they are just a fog surrounding me.
My son has just confessed to every crime he has been accused of.
I am numb. I can barely breathe much less smile. The defense attorneys summon me outside the 10×10 box.
They ask me, “would you like an opportunity to talk to your son? You do understand he will be going away for a very long time”.
Emotionless I gaze into their eyes and answer, “yes. Please.”
They lead me into a room where I see my son sobbing on the other side of the glass. His head in his arms.
I place my hand on the glass hoping he would reach out. I sit and watch him cry, tears streaming down my face. He looks up and repeatedly says, “I’m sorry Mom, I’m sorry Mom, I’m sorry mom…” And puts his head back down. I said, “son. Look at me.”
My hand still on the glass. He looks up.
I said, “son, I forgive you.”
He shakes his head as more tears stream down his face.
Then his hand rests on the glass against where mine is.
We keep our hands there in an attempt to feel a hug. This is our goodbye.
I reminded him that I love him, as I walk out of the room sobbing through my tunnel that I can barely see a few feet in front of me. Back into the room of mirth where I sit quietly, agelast.
Agelast – Forget your faith

I hope

As I sit upon the witness chair
At the judge I’m supposed to stare
Give my story, my heart I’ll bare
Beg for a sentence long and fair

Explain how hard it’s been to cope
May confess how I’ve turned to dope
Through words of emotion I will grope
Hold myself together, is my hope

I’ll tell of memories I hold dear
Then tell of what I now most fear
All his charges I dread to hear
When it’s over I’ll seek a beer.

I walk in numbness, dread and pain
The thought of seeing him again
Is nothing more than a mental strain
My love for him I need to explain

I just want to hold him one last time
Regardless of the type of his crime
My soul and heart aches and pines
knowing he may be away for a lifetime

Will they let me see him?
I hope
Will they let me hug him?
I hope.
Will he want to see me?
I hope.
I hope.
I hope.

Are you ok?

“No, quite honestly, I’m not.”

No, I’m not ‘ok’, I feel like I’m packing for a funeral. Each day draws me closer to the sobering reality of the crushing heart wrenching soul agony I’ve been living in for the past 6 months. Saturday I will drive 10 hours. 10 hours to see my oldest child who I haven’t seen in over 6 months. Who I haven’t spoken to in over 6 months. On Monday I get the awesome joy (sarcasm intended) of witnessing the Court Martial of my first born child. On another day next week I have the grueling opportunity to listen to my daughter as she tells prosecutors and the judge everything he did to her. I never wanted to hear the details. She’s growing into a beautiful young lady. It kills me to know he took her innocence.  She knows what’s it’s like to be with a man. She already knows how to where a tampon for Gawds sake! She shouldn’t even be comfortable with wearing one!!!! 

Oh my gawd! I hold my chest, it aches. It pounds. It hurts. Tears (as usual) stream down my face.

I’m packing for a funeral. The veiwing of the body, then the burial of my own soul, as I listen to the details then the sentencing.

No. I’m not ok at all.