There was a time I felt free. As a little girl I wandered the Redwoods in the little piece of heaven my father secured for us in Monterey, California called Jacks Peak. We had 9 acres of forest and my father built a house and a horse farm where we raised Arabians and German Shepherds. Kim Novak and Clint Eastwood were common names in my household and Ms. Novak was our neighbor up the road.
I remember my mother speaking of Ms. Novak one time and called her a “people hater”. Anxious to see what a “people hater” looked like, I remember sneaking up our hill to her property to try and catch a glimpse of her. I never was able to catch find her at her property the many times I tried. She was a famous movie star; I thought maybe she was just busy being famous and hating people. Once I caught a glimpse of her at a horse race we would frequent. “There she is”, my mom pointed her out. I had my chance to get up close. I remember slipping away from my parents and walking right up to her. I looked her square in the eyes, smiling at her to see if she would hate me too. Instead she just smiled back. If that’s what a people hater looked like I guessed it wasn’t so bad.
I loved my forest and dogs and horses. I spent hours alone climbing trees and speaking with the animals. I can remember feeling very connected back then. There were hours my father would leave “for business” during the day and I always was anxious for him to return. I had a hot pink big wheel which I would race down our steep driveway over the asphalt that wasn’t quite finished and whose bumpy surface always made riding on it an adventure. Up and down, up and down, I would fly on my big wheel all the way down our long driveway; push it back up and then ride down again. As my dad turned the curve on our land when he would arrived back to our property, I could hear the engine in his V-8 Chevy Camaro ahead of him and would wait with excited anticipation on that big wheel right in the middle of the driveway. “Hi Kitty Kee” he would greet me as he would peak out of his window as pulled up past me to park. I was always hopeful he would be happy to see me but that wasn’t always the case; not on the days he was feeling anxious.
I remember feeling confusion (although I couldn’t label it then) when instead of his normal greeting and sparkle in his eyes for which I was in such hopeful anticipation, it was as if I was an annoyance or he barely acknowledged me. I could never figure out what was wrong or right with me. Like most little girls, I loved my daddy. Once he came home I was his shadow. I followed him inside and would just sit anywhere near him for a little attention. I wanted to soak as much up of him before he would leave again and I never know how long he would be gone. When he was home it seemed as if the telephone receiver was glued to his ear. Once when I was sitting at the table eating cereal getting very frustrated at his long phone conversation, I remember interrupting him several times in futile attempts to steal some of his time. He kept ignoring me and I continued to persist; “Dad” “DA-AD” I need some more milk. Can you get me some more milk? It wasn’t the milk I needed it was him. It seemed like just when I would feel connected with him and safe again he would leave. I remembered questioning to myself; where did he have to go that was so important all the time? How come when he would come home I had to share him with people on the phone? If he wasn’t on the phone, he was in his room lying on his bed with his shot guns or sometimes in a bath tub full of water always in the dark, not wanting to be bothered. Sometimes he would sit in that water for hours.
I wasn’t having it today. I wanted more milk and that was more important than this phone call. The next thing I new I was bleeding. I had suffered a severe contusion to my forehead right above my eye. He had gotten so upset from my interrupting him that he grabbed the closest thing which happed to be a metal can opener and flung it in my directing in an off the handle approach to get me to shut up. It was like I was this annoying object he had to destroy in the moment to keep focused. The pain was not coming from my head but my heart. My heart had just been shattered. This man I looked up to so much had just hurt me so much I wouldn’t even realize to what extent until nearly 30 years later. He had just taught me a valuable lesson. It was okay for men to abuse me when I wanted there attention.
Mom was sad a lot. She would sing sometimes and the sun would be shining and other times the house became very quiet and melancholy. She always kept busy decorating or cleaning. Sometimes we would do craft projects together and I can remember feeling so connected to her when we were creating something special together. Sometimes she would dress me up in little dresses and girly outfits and take hours of photos of me on our land. I felt so pretty and special in those moments. I was so proud when she would shellac those pictures and send them as gifts to our other relatives. Sometimes when he would come home we would go for horseback rides on various trails on ours and adjoining land sometimes into dark. We would collect wild mushrooms to fry up later with breadcrumbs and garlic that were always so wonderful. Sometimes when we would ride we could catch glimpses of deer and other animals who shared the land with us. Those were my happiest memories.
Other times when my father was feeling especially agitated he would take his bow and arrow and shoot them at raccoons. Sometimes when he would shoot one, always aiming at their “ass” he would just watch as I stood there petrified as they would suffer and cry for what seemed like a lifetime to me. He would laugh. He got so much enjoyment out of making these poor helpless animals suffer I hated him and felt like part of me was suffering with those creatures. How could someone do that? I was so confused. Years later after my mother left him I would visit him on my great aunts farm and he would make me watch as he shot legs off of prairie dogs and let them run around until all the blood would drain from their bodies. I felt so helpless. I just wanted to run but he wouldn’t let me. Those poor little animals would just cry as they were being tortured. One time one ran up to us almost pleading for him to stop and when it looked at me I felt ashamed of myself for being a part of this. How could God let him do this? How could God make him my dad?
When mom got sad I felt helpless. Nothing I could say or do would make her better. Sometimes she was depressed for days. Sometimes he was gone for days. If he wasn’t home at night she would put me to bed and stayed with me until I fell asleep. I could feel her restlessness as she lay with me but these were the times she stayed near; when he was gone. “Kara”, “Kara”, come on, we have to go for a ride. She would awaken me just past midnight. “Get your sleeping bag; we need to go find your father.” As she fired up the two tone green Ford, she would make me a bed on the front seat and we were off on our mission to go get dad. We would drive from bar to bar and house to house looking for him. I would wait in the car while she went in. I would search her face as I saw her walking back to the truck with the shadows and streetlights holding her expressions. The worry in her eyes grew with each new location and finding him to no avail. Finally after hours she would give up, crying all the way home and then she would shut down as she turned off the ignition as we would arrive back to that driveway, defeated.
I didn’t find out where he had been until I turned 36 and asked my mother after all those years did she ever find out where he a had been? It turns out that he admitted to her years later that he was at his girlfriend’s house. Beth was years younger than my mother. Maybe 18 or 19 my mother was an old maid at 27. Used up. My mother used to vent her pain in poems. When I read what she had written, mostly poetry, it was very evident to me that she had a lot of anger toward him for demeaning her, especially her appearance. It was apparently the stronghold he had on her. She was his model. He was always taking pictures of her and I and I think she thought that was her main value. When other women started coming around she must have thought that he didn’t find her attractive anymore.
The women he cheated with were always beautiful. Once “Beth” came to our doorstep crying. She was looking for my father. She had an abortion and he wouldn’t come with her and she was distraught. I remember the kindness my mom showed to her even while I could feel my mother’s hidden pain as she listened to Beth’s story. This was all very confusing to me but I just stood there and watched, listened carefully and felt helpless again. As my mother wrote she could express her inner feelings. I don’t remember ever hearing her stand up for herself. Sometimes I would have to search to find mommy. She was hiding again. I could feel her pain in my heart. One time I found her alone in our neighbor’s horse barn so detached and hopeless. He was gone again. I started to get angry and wanted to make her better. I felt so bad for her. “I love you, mom” “I will be here for you”. She just looked at me and kept crying not saying a word. I remember hugging her and just knowing my love was never going to be enough.
Eventually, my mom left dad while he was away in Utah on a hunting trip. It was a dramatic and carefully planned event. She called the Prom King hero. He was her ex-boyfriend from high school who was the nice boy her parents always “liked”. He had been the prom king when she was the prom queen while she was a senior in highschool in Belleview, Nebraska, one of the many places they had been stationed during my grandfather’s service in the United States Air Force. This new man was coming to get us and he was going to be our new dad. My little brother was only just months old.
As she packed our things to prepare our final departure from my home in the woods, she put me on the phone with my dad who called long distance the night before we left. I was not to tell him we were going to leave she warned me as she handed me the phone. I remember feeling excited by the drama of our escape, and horribly guilty because I was going to betray him. I was scared and I missed him but she had decided she had had enough. This time when she fired up that Green Ford pickup with all our belongings in the back and my brand new baby brother, we weren’t looking for Dad anymore. We were going to try and find mom.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
Where's the garbage man?
This morning I checked my e-mail and received an invitation from the Gilbert Tea Party to stand in opposition to a tax increase for the Town of Gilbert, Arizona. The sender of the e-mail indicated that the "opposition" would be there with full force (meaning the Gilbert employees) and urged that we come (and support our side) to prevent a sales tax increase or use tax from being passed by City Council to offset it's current budget deficit.
I was at the December 7, 2009 last week and arrived almost an hour before the meeting started. It was my first experience at a city counsel meeting although I had read minutes from other municipalities. It was rainy and cold that day as I walked into 50 Civic Center. I didn't realize the meeting was upstairs and was surprised to not see anyone else as the e-mail I received indicated that they wanted us there by 4pm. I sat in the waiting area and watched people pay their utility bills and perused the counters noticing the job postings still open for new city employees. After about 20 minutes, it occurred to me I might be in the wrong place as I saw a couple of people walk up the stairs to the 2ND floor where I guessed the meeting was probably going to be held. I confirmed this with one of the desk clerks and proceeded upstairs. As I walked into the meeting room, I noticed 6 tables forming an enclosed square and two groups of 12-18 chairs in 3 separate area in the room.
There was only one other person in the room when I arrived and I gravitated toward her. We said "hello" and I chose a chair and sat directly in front of her. I had brought my new video recorder and note book, as I am now chronicling my adventures as a new PC. I glanced around the room and noticed copies of the Steering Committees agenda and minutes from the last meeting in front of each place setting. The woman behind me, was busy with her highlighter and many copies of the agenda and preliminary budget proposals. I guessed she was a lawyer or lobbyist or someone important because she barely spoke to me. She finally acknowledged me when I took one of the committee members packets and began to review it. She indicated there were extra copies by the door if I wanted one but I might not want to read it once I saw what it contained. I put the packet back on its place setting and walked up to the front and captured my own copy and came back to my seat. I sat back down and began to desipher the anachronisms and various terms I have never heard before.
I examined and studied the input from the various committees which had been formed to get a broader view and perspective from different points of view. There were all kinds of proposals such as adding a use fee to the dog park, cutting the budget for fire and police uniforms, transferring land for a new fire station, a .25 increase in sales tax, a 5% pay cut for employees, a new use tax, out of city rental tax for investors of multiple rental income properties located in Gilbert, and an annual fire safety inspection fee for all businesses with store fronts.
As the meeting time grew near, council and committee members filtered in, town employees arrived as well as the republican representatives for LD22 of which I am now affiliated as a Precinct Committeeman for the Calistoga Precinct. As the republicans arrived I began to recognize some familiar faces with whom I have recently become acquainted during my participation in the Republican Precinct Committee Meetings.
I noticed several people standing near the entrance to the room, signing in and filling out their names on some small slips of paper. I stood from my chair (where I was spying on the lady behind me, trying to figure out who she was and what she was doing) and walked over to the group completing the forms. I asked the precinct secretary what the forms were and he explained that they were requests to speak for 2 minutes during the meeting. I told him, I had no idea what I would say and he said I could fill one out and then "defer" the time to him. I agreed and filled in my name.
He sat down in a chair in the front row in a group of chairs opposite to where I had been sitting. In the meantime, the "other side" was filling in and others were arriving with banners and posters. "No new taxes" read one. A graph showing the Gilbert employee salaries compared to other municipalities and private industry was clenched by another. The tea party people seemed to all make there way to the third grouping of chairs while others just hung out on the fringes.
It occurred to me, that we were all on "sides". Once side was the "bad selfish City employees, another were the staunch suited republicans while the tea party people sat together waiting to read their carefully edited dialogues. Once the big square tables were filled with all the decision makers, the chair person began the meeting. I found myself missing the Serenity Prayer. Where was God being put in all of this?
I sat fascinated as I watched the dynamics of the meeting with the garbage collector and city clerk waiting patiently for their time to speak. Eyes rolled on all sides as the meeting progressed and items from the various committees were reviewed, motions made, seconded and approved for further review and ultimate approval or disapproval in the upcoming meetings.
I felt bad for the City employees as I saw a Garbage collector still in uniform and a city clerk "texting" her children what to make for dinner. The chief of police sat near the tea party mom with the "no new tax" banner who waited almost 3 hours to read her sentiments on Gilbert citizens being penalized by no fault of their own. I felt bad for these people as I realized that someone was going to be the fall guy and it was all political. Who took the fall was going to be the ones making the least amount of noise and the voices in the middle control who gets to speak. Isn't this what is happening in Washington also?
When the topic of sales tax increases was given the floor for citizen voice, my name was called. To the surprise of my party affiliates, I spoke in opposition to both a tax increase and salary cut for Gilbert employees.
I shared about my experience as a small business owner whose income is solely derived from commission. If I am not making money, I invent a creative service based on the shifting demands in the marketplace. When I filed bankruptcy almost 10 years ago, no one bailed me. I had to change the way I was running my business and life. We are conditioned to respond to incentives, its just the way it works. What we place as our priorities and how we view ourselves in the context of the world dictates our behavior. Our behavior always is reinforced by our view and visa-versa. We must change our point of view to make lasting changes. Sometimes behavior modification is what it takes to get the ball rolling which is why changing some aspects of our system may be critical. I do know that when their is competition without cooperation there is oppression. When there is oppression, there is sabotage. If the Gilbert employees view themselves as oppressed and the Gilbert businesses feel overly burdened, we may find ourselves in further decline. We need to mix it up and think outside of the box of square tables and not sway from some spiritual benchmarks like humility instead of pride.
Instead, if we are to find a solution to the core issues surrounding the crisis we now find our selves in, we must examine our hearts and priorities and get back to a spirit of fellowship and being a good steward with each other and our resources. If we don't we are bound to repeat the same pattern of self defeating behavior that has us in a state of insanity where we keep doing the same thing over and over expecting different results.
After, I sent my reply back to the sender, I prayed to God for a scripture to associate with this issue and this is the one I was given;
Romans 12
I URGE you brother by the mercies of God to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship.
2 And do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.
3 For through the grace given to me I say to every man among you not to think more highly of himself that he ought to think; but to think so as to have sound judgment, as God has allotted to each a measure of faith.
4 For just as we have many members in one body and all members do not have the same function,
5 so we, who are many, are the one body of Christ, and individually members one of another
6 And since we have gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let each exercise them accordingly: if prophesy, according to the proportion of his faith;
7 if service, in his serving; or if he teaches, in his teaching;
8 or he who exhorts, in his exhortation; he who gives, with liberality's; he who leads, with diligence; he who shows mercy, with cheerfulness.
9 Let love be without hypocrisy. Abhor what is evil; cling to what is good.
10 Be devoted to one another in brotherly love; give preference to one another in honor;
11 not lagging behind in diligence, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord
12 rejoicing in hope, persevering in tribulation, devoted to prayer
13 contributing to the needs of the saints, practicing hospitality.
14 Bless those who persecute you, bless and curse not.
15 Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.
16 Be of the same mind toward one another; do not be haughty in mind, but associate with the lowly. Do not be wise in your own estimation.
17 Never pay back evil for evil to anyone. Respect what is right in the sight of all men.
18 If possible, so far as it depends on you, be at peace with all men.
19 Never take your own revenge, beloved, but leave room for the wrath of God, for it is written, VENGEANCE IS MINE, I WILL REPAY, SAYS THE LORD
19
20 "BUT IF YOUR ENEMY IS HUNGRY, FEED HIM, AND IF HE IS THIRSTY, GIVE HIM A DRINK ; FOR IN SO DOING YOU WILL HEAP BURNING COALS UPON HIS HEAD."
21 Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.
Here is the e-mail I replied to today;
---- Denna Ray <http://us.mc656.mail.yahoo.com/mc/compose?to=denna_10@cox.net> wrote: > > > Dear Friends,> > > > Your attendance at the Gilbert Town Council meeting on Tuesday is vitally> important. Please speak out! > > > >
TUESDAY, 12/15, 7 PM> > 50 E. CIVIC CENTER DR.> > GILBERT, AZ >
> > > The opposition has promised that they will be at this meeting "en masse," to> fight salary and benefits cuts. > > > > We MUST be there en masse to state ONE THING to the Council: NO MORE TAXES> OF ANY KIND. > > > > Gilbert residents and business people who wish to speak should complete the> Citizen Communication form at the entrance to the auditorium asking to speak> regarding The Budget. > > > > Speak to the issue of "Please do not pass any kind of tax increase. "> Provide a brief (1-2 minutes) true, personal story, such as: 1) I've taken> a 50% salary cut, 2) a friend of mine declared bankruptcy, 3) my neighbor> lost his job and had to move to Apache Junction, 4) I just got a pink slip> today, 5) My business this year is 75% less than it was a year ago. 6) My> business costs have risen 30%, but I can't pass this off to my customers> because of the economy right now. 7) My neighbor with 2 toddlers couldn't> find work as an electrician, so he joined the Army and is a combat medic in> Afghanistan. This is the HARSH REALITY of the private sector that we live> in. All of the above stories are TRUE. > > > > Emphasize that we are ALL in a recession, not just the Town of Gilbert. We> as families cannot spend more than we take in. Our businesses cannot do> that either. The Town isn't any different. Gilbert is a great place to> live because it is a place with lots of good, law-abiding families. We> define our quality of life for ourselves. Having a JOB is more important> than recreation programs, special events, and building more parks and> projects that must be maintained. We have hundreds of HOA's that have> beautiful green areas. The homeowners pay for those willingly. The Town> needs to get its finances in order! > > > > If you are a Gilbert resident who does NOT wish to speak, please complete> the Citizen Communication form at the entrance to the auditorium and note:> "I do not wish to speak, but I want you to know that I am opposed to any> taxes of any kind." > > > > PLEASE BE AT THIS VERY IMPORTANT MEETING. STAND FIRM AGAINST THE SLOW> EROSION OF OUR INCOME. LET'S ALL STAND TOGETHER IN DEFENSE OF OUR LIBERTY.> > > > > Anita Christy> > > > > > >
My reply;
Anita,I was at the last meeting and did speak. I am in agreement that I do not want an additional sales tax or use rate increase in Gilbert. I'm not sure I agree with the salary cuts either. Why don't we come up with a third alternative rather than an immediate cut to their salaries? The truth is that unless we incentive the market place both in government and private industries such as health care, there will be no change. I think that the employees who do not want cuts to their salaries should not be viewed as opposition but rather additional recipients of the consequences of waste and corruption in the current challenging economic times. The real "opposition" are the greedy criminal corrupt bankers currently in control of our country who have systematically eroded our liberty by strategically placing powers in control of legislation and "rules". The words capitalism and free market are no long synonymous. Why don't we use Gilbert as an example to think outside of the box and utilize these employees as resources to find the savings in their own departments and invent incentives in the process? A "pay cut" will only breed hostility and resentment and additional waste because of it? A furlough our other cut would only be a temporary solution anyway. It does nothing to solve the long term issue; tax payer’s lack of accountability for their own government. We should challenge government employees to find savings and waste within their own departments.
As citizens who patronize Gilbert businesses we should broaden the tax base not by raising the tax rate but by increasing the volume of sales revenue for our small businesses through creative means. I am excited to see your response to my input.
Kara Holt
480-299-7236
UPDATE:
In the midst of writing this blog post, I had to run an errand. I took my son's old school books back to the public district school he was attending in our neighborhood, prior to my election to home school. As I pulled out of the school parking lot and on my way home, I spotted a For Sale sign which caught my eye and I decided to stop. In a synchronised circumstance, a City of Gilbert garbage collector happened to cross my path at the same time. I felt prompted to stop (in the middle of the street) and went up to his truck. As I peered up toward his garbage collector window, he proceeded to roll down the window and smiled at me with anticipation. I explained that I was against the 5% salary cut being proposed for his salary and gave him a homework assignment. I asked that when he went home tonight that he make a list and check it twice. From his vantage point, what is the waste he sees in the government bureaucracy in his department and how could it be eliminated? What ideas does he have on how to save or make the City money? I asked that he bring the list to the meeting tomorrow night. He smiled and thanked me and said he would. His name is Robert and I hope I will see him there tomorrow evening. I will keep you posted.
PS How ironic that a garbage collector could be the best one to ask how to eliminate waste!
I was at the December 7, 2009 last week and arrived almost an hour before the meeting started. It was my first experience at a city counsel meeting although I had read minutes from other municipalities. It was rainy and cold that day as I walked into 50 Civic Center. I didn't realize the meeting was upstairs and was surprised to not see anyone else as the e-mail I received indicated that they wanted us there by 4pm. I sat in the waiting area and watched people pay their utility bills and perused the counters noticing the job postings still open for new city employees. After about 20 minutes, it occurred to me I might be in the wrong place as I saw a couple of people walk up the stairs to the 2ND floor where I guessed the meeting was probably going to be held. I confirmed this with one of the desk clerks and proceeded upstairs. As I walked into the meeting room, I noticed 6 tables forming an enclosed square and two groups of 12-18 chairs in 3 separate area in the room.
There was only one other person in the room when I arrived and I gravitated toward her. We said "hello" and I chose a chair and sat directly in front of her. I had brought my new video recorder and note book, as I am now chronicling my adventures as a new PC. I glanced around the room and noticed copies of the Steering Committees agenda and minutes from the last meeting in front of each place setting. The woman behind me, was busy with her highlighter and many copies of the agenda and preliminary budget proposals. I guessed she was a lawyer or lobbyist or someone important because she barely spoke to me. She finally acknowledged me when I took one of the committee members packets and began to review it. She indicated there were extra copies by the door if I wanted one but I might not want to read it once I saw what it contained. I put the packet back on its place setting and walked up to the front and captured my own copy and came back to my seat. I sat back down and began to desipher the anachronisms and various terms I have never heard before.
I examined and studied the input from the various committees which had been formed to get a broader view and perspective from different points of view. There were all kinds of proposals such as adding a use fee to the dog park, cutting the budget for fire and police uniforms, transferring land for a new fire station, a .25 increase in sales tax, a 5% pay cut for employees, a new use tax, out of city rental tax for investors of multiple rental income properties located in Gilbert, and an annual fire safety inspection fee for all businesses with store fronts.
As the meeting time grew near, council and committee members filtered in, town employees arrived as well as the republican representatives for LD22 of which I am now affiliated as a Precinct Committeeman for the Calistoga Precinct. As the republicans arrived I began to recognize some familiar faces with whom I have recently become acquainted during my participation in the Republican Precinct Committee Meetings.
I noticed several people standing near the entrance to the room, signing in and filling out their names on some small slips of paper. I stood from my chair (where I was spying on the lady behind me, trying to figure out who she was and what she was doing) and walked over to the group completing the forms. I asked the precinct secretary what the forms were and he explained that they were requests to speak for 2 minutes during the meeting. I told him, I had no idea what I would say and he said I could fill one out and then "defer" the time to him. I agreed and filled in my name.
He sat down in a chair in the front row in a group of chairs opposite to where I had been sitting. In the meantime, the "other side" was filling in and others were arriving with banners and posters. "No new taxes" read one. A graph showing the Gilbert employee salaries compared to other municipalities and private industry was clenched by another. The tea party people seemed to all make there way to the third grouping of chairs while others just hung out on the fringes.
It occurred to me, that we were all on "sides". Once side was the "bad selfish City employees, another were the staunch suited republicans while the tea party people sat together waiting to read their carefully edited dialogues. Once the big square tables were filled with all the decision makers, the chair person began the meeting. I found myself missing the Serenity Prayer. Where was God being put in all of this?
I sat fascinated as I watched the dynamics of the meeting with the garbage collector and city clerk waiting patiently for their time to speak. Eyes rolled on all sides as the meeting progressed and items from the various committees were reviewed, motions made, seconded and approved for further review and ultimate approval or disapproval in the upcoming meetings.
I felt bad for the City employees as I saw a Garbage collector still in uniform and a city clerk "texting" her children what to make for dinner. The chief of police sat near the tea party mom with the "no new tax" banner who waited almost 3 hours to read her sentiments on Gilbert citizens being penalized by no fault of their own. I felt bad for these people as I realized that someone was going to be the fall guy and it was all political. Who took the fall was going to be the ones making the least amount of noise and the voices in the middle control who gets to speak. Isn't this what is happening in Washington also?
When the topic of sales tax increases was given the floor for citizen voice, my name was called. To the surprise of my party affiliates, I spoke in opposition to both a tax increase and salary cut for Gilbert employees.
I shared about my experience as a small business owner whose income is solely derived from commission. If I am not making money, I invent a creative service based on the shifting demands in the marketplace. When I filed bankruptcy almost 10 years ago, no one bailed me. I had to change the way I was running my business and life. We are conditioned to respond to incentives, its just the way it works. What we place as our priorities and how we view ourselves in the context of the world dictates our behavior. Our behavior always is reinforced by our view and visa-versa. We must change our point of view to make lasting changes. Sometimes behavior modification is what it takes to get the ball rolling which is why changing some aspects of our system may be critical. I do know that when their is competition without cooperation there is oppression. When there is oppression, there is sabotage. If the Gilbert employees view themselves as oppressed and the Gilbert businesses feel overly burdened, we may find ourselves in further decline. We need to mix it up and think outside of the box of square tables and not sway from some spiritual benchmarks like humility instead of pride.
Instead, if we are to find a solution to the core issues surrounding the crisis we now find our selves in, we must examine our hearts and priorities and get back to a spirit of fellowship and being a good steward with each other and our resources. If we don't we are bound to repeat the same pattern of self defeating behavior that has us in a state of insanity where we keep doing the same thing over and over expecting different results.
After, I sent my reply back to the sender, I prayed to God for a scripture to associate with this issue and this is the one I was given;
Romans 12
I URGE you brother by the mercies of God to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship.
2 And do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.
3 For through the grace given to me I say to every man among you not to think more highly of himself that he ought to think; but to think so as to have sound judgment, as God has allotted to each a measure of faith.
4 For just as we have many members in one body and all members do not have the same function,
5 so we, who are many, are the one body of Christ, and individually members one of another
6 And since we have gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let each exercise them accordingly: if prophesy, according to the proportion of his faith;
7 if service, in his serving; or if he teaches, in his teaching;
8 or he who exhorts, in his exhortation; he who gives, with liberality's; he who leads, with diligence; he who shows mercy, with cheerfulness.
9 Let love be without hypocrisy. Abhor what is evil; cling to what is good.
10 Be devoted to one another in brotherly love; give preference to one another in honor;
11 not lagging behind in diligence, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord
12 rejoicing in hope, persevering in tribulation, devoted to prayer
13 contributing to the needs of the saints, practicing hospitality.
14 Bless those who persecute you, bless and curse not.
15 Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.
16 Be of the same mind toward one another; do not be haughty in mind, but associate with the lowly. Do not be wise in your own estimation.
17 Never pay back evil for evil to anyone. Respect what is right in the sight of all men.
18 If possible, so far as it depends on you, be at peace with all men.
19 Never take your own revenge, beloved, but leave room for the wrath of God, for it is written, VENGEANCE IS MINE, I WILL REPAY, SAYS THE LORD
19
20 "BUT IF YOUR ENEMY IS HUNGRY, FEED HIM, AND IF HE IS THIRSTY, GIVE HIM A DRINK ; FOR IN SO DOING YOU WILL HEAP BURNING COALS UPON HIS HEAD."
21 Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.
Here is the e-mail I replied to today;
---- Denna Ray <http://us.mc656.mail.yahoo.com/mc/compose?to=denna_10@cox.net> wrote: > > > Dear Friends,> > > > Your attendance at the Gilbert Town Council meeting on Tuesday is vitally> important. Please speak out! > > > >
TUESDAY, 12/15, 7 PM> > 50 E. CIVIC CENTER DR.> > GILBERT, AZ >
> > > The opposition has promised that they will be at this meeting "en masse," to> fight salary and benefits cuts. > > > > We MUST be there en masse to state ONE THING to the Council: NO MORE TAXES> OF ANY KIND. > > > > Gilbert residents and business people who wish to speak should complete the> Citizen Communication form at the entrance to the auditorium asking to speak> regarding The Budget. > > > > Speak to the issue of "Please do not pass any kind of tax increase. "> Provide a brief (1-2 minutes) true, personal story, such as: 1) I've taken> a 50% salary cut, 2) a friend of mine declared bankruptcy, 3) my neighbor> lost his job and had to move to Apache Junction, 4) I just got a pink slip> today, 5) My business this year is 75% less than it was a year ago. 6) My> business costs have risen 30%, but I can't pass this off to my customers> because of the economy right now. 7) My neighbor with 2 toddlers couldn't> find work as an electrician, so he joined the Army and is a combat medic in> Afghanistan. This is the HARSH REALITY of the private sector that we live> in. All of the above stories are TRUE. > > > > Emphasize that we are ALL in a recession, not just the Town of Gilbert. We> as families cannot spend more than we take in. Our businesses cannot do> that either. The Town isn't any different. Gilbert is a great place to> live because it is a place with lots of good, law-abiding families. We> define our quality of life for ourselves. Having a JOB is more important> than recreation programs, special events, and building more parks and> projects that must be maintained. We have hundreds of HOA's that have> beautiful green areas. The homeowners pay for those willingly. The Town> needs to get its finances in order! > > > > If you are a Gilbert resident who does NOT wish to speak, please complete> the Citizen Communication form at the entrance to the auditorium and note:> "I do not wish to speak, but I want you to know that I am opposed to any> taxes of any kind." > > > > PLEASE BE AT THIS VERY IMPORTANT MEETING. STAND FIRM AGAINST THE SLOW> EROSION OF OUR INCOME. LET'S ALL STAND TOGETHER IN DEFENSE OF OUR LIBERTY.> > > > > Anita Christy> > > > > > >
My reply;
Anita,I was at the last meeting and did speak. I am in agreement that I do not want an additional sales tax or use rate increase in Gilbert. I'm not sure I agree with the salary cuts either. Why don't we come up with a third alternative rather than an immediate cut to their salaries? The truth is that unless we incentive the market place both in government and private industries such as health care, there will be no change. I think that the employees who do not want cuts to their salaries should not be viewed as opposition but rather additional recipients of the consequences of waste and corruption in the current challenging economic times. The real "opposition" are the greedy criminal corrupt bankers currently in control of our country who have systematically eroded our liberty by strategically placing powers in control of legislation and "rules". The words capitalism and free market are no long synonymous. Why don't we use Gilbert as an example to think outside of the box and utilize these employees as resources to find the savings in their own departments and invent incentives in the process? A "pay cut" will only breed hostility and resentment and additional waste because of it? A furlough our other cut would only be a temporary solution anyway. It does nothing to solve the long term issue; tax payer’s lack of accountability for their own government. We should challenge government employees to find savings and waste within their own departments.
As citizens who patronize Gilbert businesses we should broaden the tax base not by raising the tax rate but by increasing the volume of sales revenue for our small businesses through creative means. I am excited to see your response to my input.
Kara Holt
480-299-7236
UPDATE:
In the midst of writing this blog post, I had to run an errand. I took my son's old school books back to the public district school he was attending in our neighborhood, prior to my election to home school. As I pulled out of the school parking lot and on my way home, I spotted a For Sale sign which caught my eye and I decided to stop. In a synchronised circumstance, a City of Gilbert garbage collector happened to cross my path at the same time. I felt prompted to stop (in the middle of the street) and went up to his truck. As I peered up toward his garbage collector window, he proceeded to roll down the window and smiled at me with anticipation. I explained that I was against the 5% salary cut being proposed for his salary and gave him a homework assignment. I asked that when he went home tonight that he make a list and check it twice. From his vantage point, what is the waste he sees in the government bureaucracy in his department and how could it be eliminated? What ideas does he have on how to save or make the City money? I asked that he bring the list to the meeting tomorrow night. He smiled and thanked me and said he would. His name is Robert and I hope I will see him there tomorrow evening. I will keep you posted.
PS How ironic that a garbage collector could be the best one to ask how to eliminate waste!
Friday, December 11, 2009
Angel Unaware (Luke 23:34)
I had never seen anyone die before. She lay before me like a torn up rag doll. Her fingers were purple and black as this “organ” called skin began to deteriorate. She was such a beautiful girl.
I didn’t realize that dying was such a process. I thought when you died, you just gave up your last breath and that was it. I met Pamela in front of the meeting hall I went to. Sometimes she sat alone but most of the time, there was somebody talking to her, usually a guy. She was so thin and her hands would shake when she lifted her cigarette to her petite pouty lips. Pamela had blonde hair and big blue eyes that would search your soul when she would look at you. There was a feeling that she was hoping someone could save her. She was giving up. Occasionally, her eyes would begin to get a little less dull, but most of the time they were glazed over from the opiates she was ingesting on a daily basis. We met in a meeting. She asked me to be her sponsor and I agreed although I was so new, I still felt inadequate. Her drug off choice had been the same as mine. Pain killers.
When I asked her how long she had been clean, she lied and told me 3 days. Having gotten clean from narcotic opiate painkillers myself, I knew there would be no way to be clean from those pills and be standing there so calmly. When I got clean, almost 23 months before, I had been a complete mess for at least two weeks in withdrawal, feeling like I was going to crawl out of my skin. Even though I knew she was not being honest with me, I agreed to sponsor her and told her to call me everyday. I heard from her occasionally but mostly I would catch her at a meeting.
It was obvious she was still using but at least she was calling other people in the fellowship and she was going to the meetings on a pretty regular basis, even if she couldn’t stay awake in them. I remembered that semi-conscious state all too well. I use to take so many pills; I couldn’t keep my head up. I understood wanting to be numb all the time. Pamela was one of the first people I ever admitted I had an eating disorder to. She confided in me that she couldn’t stop taking laxatives and throwing up. “Kara, I did it again. I told myself I wasn’t going to but I did. I tried to hide it from my mom, because she says if I don’t stop she’s going to take me to the hospital and I don’t want to go there again.” “I can’t stop”. My heart started to beat faster. She had this problem too. I told her I understood that I had struggled with it also. “Don’t worry about that right now”, I told her. “Just focus on staying clean. We can work on the other problem once you get off drugs.” One thing at a time. Don’t try and put yourself under too much pressure to stop all these behaviors at once.” These were the things I was telling myself so I just naturally rationalized her behavior the same way. I had no idea the deadly nature of bulimia and anorexia. I thought the only way it could become fatal is if you literally starved yourself to death. “I feel so ashamed”, she would share with me as she would sob on the other end of the phone as I would just hold the phone trying to think of something to say to console her.
It came to me to read her a page from my “Just Today” daily meditation book by Iyanla Vanzant, which often inspired me. I randomly opened up the page and it was about forgiveness. It was about our angels praying to our father in heaven “Father forgive them for they no not what they do”. It repeated over and over and Pamela began to chime in. Father forgive them, father forgive me for I know not what I do. She was laughing and crying all at the same time. She had found a little bit of relief in what we read. I heard just a hint of hope in her voice as I hung up with her that last time. Just days before, I had seen her standing in front of the building where our meetings had been held. Her mood could vacillate from lethargy to laughter back to anguish within the hour. This time when I looked in her eyes, it came to me to ask about her children. He is telling them lies about me. I’m afraid they will never forgive me. I feel so worthless. I felt a chill as I told her I knew God loved her and had great plans for her. The look she gave me at that moment sent chills up my spine. Not the kind of “God Bumps” we would often get when we felt the spirit or energy of truth or love but a deep dark kind of chill, the kind I used to feel in that house on Hickey. I realize now, that is the chill of death.
When the soul begins to disown the body, there is a coldness that begins to set it and if the spirit doesn’t come into acceptance that they must move on it’s almost as though the soul tries to occupy a space that isn’t theirs anymore. It was like looking into a black hole when I looked in her eyes that last time. I walked with her to the Mexican food place around the corner and watched her as she struggled to eat a few bites of her burrito. She was barely cognizant and stumbled as we walked back to the meeting. After we sat down, she nodded out and we had to have someone drive her home. That was the last time I saw her.
Halloween night, my son and I were shopping for a last minute costume at the mall. I had left my phone in the car and when I checked it, I had missed 9 calls, three from Pamela. I called her back and no answer. I had her mom’s number so I called her. As I waited for an answer, my heart was beating faster and faster. I had this feeling something was terribly wrong. “We are at the hospital, Kara”, her mom told me when she finally answered the phone. “Pamela got really sick and I rushed her to Scottsdale Memorial and now she is in a coma and the Dr’s don’t think she is going to come out of it. They’ve go tubes sticking in her all over the place.” “I’ll be right there, I assured her. I took my son to his fathers and called Donny, my boyfriend at the time. Donny knew Pamela also and had spoken to her once when she tried to slit her wrists. I remember feeling so jealous that he had given her any attention and ignored her for some time hoping she would just go away. She was so pretty and I was sure Donny was interested in her. When she asked me to be her sponsor, I figured that was God’s sick sense of humor to get me over myself. Donny met me at my house and we were off to go see her.
Pamela lay lifeless as we entered her room. Her mother just sat there watching her and seemed relieved we had come. The silence in the room was deafening and it was obvious she felt comforted by our being there. Can she hear us, I asked? I don’t know, her mom replied as if she had wondered the same thing. They say just because someone can’t speak or acknowledge you doesn’t mean they don’t know what’s going on or can’t hear you. I pulled up a chair on the other side of the bed from where Pam’s mom sat and just gazed at her. There were machines breathing for her but her heart had still beat on its own. There was a breathing tube and mask, multiple IV’s and other monitors attached to her fragile little body. She almost looked like a skeleton and yet was still so beautiful. What happened, did she overdose?
Actually, it wasn’t the Vicodan that made her sick, it was her bulimia. I froze. What? They are finishing the tests, but what they are saying is that she has damaged the lining of her stomach so badly with how she has abused laxatives and forcing her self to vomit that the stomach acid has actually eaten a hole through the lining and has gone into her blood stream. It is causing all her organs to shut down. The fingers on her left hand were almost completely purple and you could see it starting on her index finger on her right hand. Is there any chance she could come out of it? They don’t think so… less than 20%. As I listened to her mom tell me that it wasn’t the drugs that were killing her, but the eating disorder a million thoughts went through my head. How could I have been so stupid?! Here I was the one she picked to help her and I had encouraged her not to worry about throwing up. Why would I? I was doing it too. It wasn’t so bad in my mind, I didn’t think it could kill you. I could understand how anorexia could kill you, you would starve to death. I wasn’t starving myself, I was just controlling my calorie intake. I didn’t throw up everything, just what I wanted to…so I thought. Suddenly I felt so guilty for all the jealous thoughts I had toward her.
Here she was dying and it was probably because I was so selfish. If I had only reached out to her sooner or would have been more available to her instead of avoiding her calls when I was with Donny, she might not be in this condition. How could I have missed those last calls?! My voice mail was full so she couldn’t even leave a message. I knew I had failed her and now it was too late. There seemed nothing I could do to make this right.
I couldn’t even cry. My heart felt like ice. That would happen sometimes with really intensely emotional situations, I felt frozen and numb, except for the guilt. Pam’s mom and I sat a spoke for about an hour. We discussed the last couple of weeks and shared our last memories of the time we had spent with her. I asked her mother what had happed to Pam that made her so hopeless. Well it was her father, she explained. She never felt like he loved her. He would come home drunk and wake her up and yell at her, beat on her door, stuff like that. Once Pam walked in while he was raping me and I think that really affected her. I sat there beginning to feel really sad.
I just listened as she told me story after story of a little girl who was so traumatized no wonder she couldn’t comprehend a life worth living. When Pam was a little girl, maybe five or six, she had to wear special shoes. They were made out of wood and very expensive. Pam forgot them outside once and it rained. Well, they got wet and were ruined and for that Pam’s father killed her cat right in front of her. I don’t thing she could ever get over that. As I sat there, I began to feel this rage inside of me. How could someone do that?! How come Pam’s mom didn’t leave. I wanted to blame her and get her to admit her part but I just listened and tried not to let my anger show. Would you mind staying here while I go to get her brother, he’s flying in at 9 and I need to go to the airport, we should be back no later that 9:30? Sure, I agreed. Donny got back with some coffee from the cafeteria and I told him we needed to stay until her mom got back. Wow, her brother is coming in to say goodbye to his little sister. The sound of the heart, blood pressure and oxygen monitors were hypnotic.
I got a bible and started to read. I read psalms, through the valley of death I shall not fear. I only wanted to read the bible which was odd because I was at a place in my opinion of organized religion that made me questions everything about dogmatic, legalistic, fear based religion, namely Christianity, but I felt like that’s what Pam and her mom would want so I just read. I read psalms 23:4 "Yea though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me." She really was walking through the valley of death and I was with her. In my mind I pictured this hallway with all the rooms of Pamela’s life. I couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be unable to talk or respond in anyway but I had the feeling she could hear me. I knew in my heart she was glad I was there but I also felt like she wanted to go. She wanted out of this body she had abused and loathed for so long. I could relate. It was only a little more than a year before that I came close myself.
I didn’t see any way out and yet I hated my life and what I’d become, I felt so hopeless. This could have very easily been me but Pam had crossed the line. She wasn’t coming back; it was just a matter of time. I kept getting the feeling that she felt trapped. She just wanted to go. I’m sure she was aware that the doctors had said that even if she did come out of it, one or both of her hands would have to be cut off as a result of the loss of circulation. She would be incapacitated.
As I finished reading one scripture, I felt compelled to read another. I felt this urgency to give her as much as I could. Her spirit seemed to be eating it up. I read Corinthians I 13: 1-13 about Love. I prayed over her and reminded her that she was forgiven, that she would soon get to go and for her to forgive herself, that her children would be okay. I watched as her chest rose and declined rhythmically to the beat of the breathing machine. The monitors chimed in reporting her heart beat, blood pressure and oxygen levels. I kept watching the clock.
Soon her mother and brother would be here from the airport. I wondered what her brother might say to her. I didn’t remember her mentioning him but she didn’t reveal a lot about her family. She was so out of it most of the time; it was hard to have any type of a lengthy conversation with her. She hadn’t been close with many people since she came into our twelve step fellowship. Unfortunately, she found a couple people who just wanted to use her. Jake was one that was still using himself. Wendy and Jake would “hang out”occasionally. She would disappear with him during our after meetings. It is so sad how we seem to be attracted to what is bad for us. Once, early in recovery, I had a dream about a snake and a lizard. I bought my son a lizard for his kindergarten graduation. It lived in his room in a glass cage with a screened lid. In this dream I walked into his room only to this lizard tattered and torn, and missing one of its legs. The screened lid had become dismantled and the snake managed to get into the cage and attack the lizard.
As I watched the snake in its attempt to devour its prey, I acted quickly by reaching my hand into the cage and removing the lizards body from the grip of the snakes mouth. I through the snake away, put the lizard back down in its cage and secured the lid. I saw that even though it was missing one of its limbs and appeared pretty mangled, it was still alive so I left the room. I got this feeling of death. The same feeling I was feeling right now with Pamela. She was in deaths grip. There was nothing I could do but watch. I couldn’t reach in and save her no matter how much I wanted to. I was learning about the truly deadly nature of this “disease”. My dream ended when I walked back into my son’s room only to find the lizard crawling up toward a tear in the screen not big enough for the snakes head to fit through but large enough for the lizard’s body. I was dismayed as I watched the lizard crawl up toward this hole trying to find the snake again. I was angry. I had saved the lizard and it barely survived. I made sure it was safe from the snake and I couldn’t understand why it was seeking the very thing that would kill it.
What was the appeal of the snake? It was like the lizard was hypnotized and entranced by the illusion of freedom the snake offered even if it meant death. The lizard was willing to die just to escape its cage. Maybe that is why as recovering addicts, we seek a spiritual awakening. I didn’t know that the prison of my life could be transformed by God only if I had the willingness and faith to wait. Our diseased thinking tells us there is no other way out. The idea of death becomes more appealing than feeling trapped in our lives. At one point, I saw freedom in drugs. They freed me from the prison of my emotions that contained me with so much anxiety and suffering; but only temporarily and less effectively as my disease progressed. Without the tools I have been taught in the 12 step fellowship, I would have never known there was another way. As I sit and watch Pamela, I realize that she had sought the snake one too many times and this time would be her last, it was just a matter of time. As I continued to read scripture, I kept glancing at the clock on the wall. It was 9:25 and soon her brother would be here. I put the bible down and just started talking to Pam. “Everything is going to be okay” I told her. “You will be free soon”. Suddenly the monitors started making noise. I looked at Donny a little startled. What’s wrong with those things, how come they’re starting to make so much noise?
Soon one of the nurses appeared at the door and then another. Her vitals are starting to go down. I watched the nurses face as she studied the numbers on the monitors. We had been schooled earlier by Pam’s mom, what the different numbers meant. Her oxygen level, heart rate and blood pressure needed to stay at certain levels for Pam to be alive. The beeps and colors of the digital numbers on the monitors became part of Pamela. The tube stuck in her throat pumping oxygen into her lungs was like my hand in the lizards cage trying to save it, only a temporary solution. As the deep black purple color spread through the rest of her fingers and hands, and the crevices on her face deepened even in only a couple of hours, it was very apparent to me she was not improving. It was just a matter of time before her body would completely give up. My idea of death was transforming as I watched her deteriorate. This death was a process not an event and we were part of it. I felt so honored to be there. In my heart, I knew she was glad I was there too, although I felt like I had failed her. This was the most time I had ever spent with her.
I had gotten to know her better now as she finally surrendered than all the times before. “She is starting to go”, one of the nurses admitted. At that instant, I felt this surge of energy through my entire body. “Not yet”, I said. Her brother isn’t here yet. I looked at the clock; it was exactly 9:30pm. Inside I knew that Pamela had waited until now to go. She had heard us talking. She had heard that her brother would be here by 9:30pm and now she wanted to go. I felt her urgency to leave. “Pam, you can’t go yet. Your brother isn’t here yet, he is flying here to say good bye to you. Just hold on a little bit longer.” As I said that her heart rate went back up but her oxygen levels were still too low. Her blood pressure was still dropping as I examined the monitors. “Pam, you’re going to need to get your oxygen level up… and your blood pressure.” They started to rise. “Up, up, up, get them up” There was this “life coach” inside of me that started to do her job. “You can do it. You can stay alive just a little bit longer” By now there were several nurses standing in the room and by the door. “I have never seen anything like this before”, “This is amazing”, another sighed as they all watched the monitors respond to us. Pam and I were connected at a very deep level.
I could feel her. I could feel her wanting to leave, but I felt her willingness to follow the lead of the spirit within me that was coaching her. It was all she could do to hold on. “I’m so proud of you, Pam. You are doing it! You are choosing life, right now!” I knew in my heart, that she got it. She finally got to experience herself choosing to live, even if it would only be a short time longer. I could feel her laughter in tears as she responded to my report of her vitals. This went on for about 45 minutes. I was exhilarated and exhausted.
By now, most of the staff on that floor had visited the doorway to witness this amazing testimony of life and connection. Her vitals were responding in direct proportion to my words. When her oxygen levels, heart rate and blood pressure would get too low, I would coach them up and they were responding. She was giving me a gift too. It was almost as if she was saying; I know I didn’t really give you a chance to help me before but I want you to know how much I appreciate you believing in me. I will do this for you, so you won’t feel so disappointed. I knew that Pam could hear me. It wasn’t my voice she heard. It was my heart. With each word I spoke, my heart was what connected with her. It was the intention of my heart filled with the Holy Spirit that was communicating with her and it was undeniable. Finally, around 10:15 pm her brother and mother walked into the room obviously rushing to get back. I’m sorry we’re late she explained. Everything had been delayed. The plane, the traffic… “We got here as soon as we could”. “Why are there so many people in here”? Then they told her. This has been the most amazing thing we have ever seen. This woman has helped Pam to stay alive.
They explained briefly about Pam’s vitals and what had happened. I looked at Pam’s mother and brother; “It would be really good for you to say anything you want to say to her now. She wants to leave but waited for you”. Tears immediately flooded both of their eyes, I looked at Pam and said “Goodbye and good job, I’ll see you again someday.” Donny and I stepped out of the room as Pam’s brother pulled out the letter he had written to her on the plane ride there. We stood outside the room while they said their last goodbyes. I heard Pam’s mom comfort her; “Go with Jesus, honey. Just go with Jesus” Then the nurse turned off the oxygen machine, the monitors chimed their last beeps, slowing down to one constant and soon she was gone.
At the funeral, there was a picture of Pamela, her children and her dogs. She had been a cheerleader and honor roll student. She had such a beautiful smile but there was sadness in her eyes you could notice if you looked closely. Everyone loved her. They played the song “Wind beneath my wings” and I finally cried. As we left the memorial service, her brother gave me a hug. “Thank you so much for what you did. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t been able to tell her I loved her while she was still alive. I really needed to read her what I wrote in that letter. I cannot express how much I appreciate that.” I told him; "It was God and your welcome". It was just as much a gift to me.
She truly was an angel… unaware.
I didn’t realize that dying was such a process. I thought when you died, you just gave up your last breath and that was it. I met Pamela in front of the meeting hall I went to. Sometimes she sat alone but most of the time, there was somebody talking to her, usually a guy. She was so thin and her hands would shake when she lifted her cigarette to her petite pouty lips. Pamela had blonde hair and big blue eyes that would search your soul when she would look at you. There was a feeling that she was hoping someone could save her. She was giving up. Occasionally, her eyes would begin to get a little less dull, but most of the time they were glazed over from the opiates she was ingesting on a daily basis. We met in a meeting. She asked me to be her sponsor and I agreed although I was so new, I still felt inadequate. Her drug off choice had been the same as mine. Pain killers.
When I asked her how long she had been clean, she lied and told me 3 days. Having gotten clean from narcotic opiate painkillers myself, I knew there would be no way to be clean from those pills and be standing there so calmly. When I got clean, almost 23 months before, I had been a complete mess for at least two weeks in withdrawal, feeling like I was going to crawl out of my skin. Even though I knew she was not being honest with me, I agreed to sponsor her and told her to call me everyday. I heard from her occasionally but mostly I would catch her at a meeting.
It was obvious she was still using but at least she was calling other people in the fellowship and she was going to the meetings on a pretty regular basis, even if she couldn’t stay awake in them. I remembered that semi-conscious state all too well. I use to take so many pills; I couldn’t keep my head up. I understood wanting to be numb all the time. Pamela was one of the first people I ever admitted I had an eating disorder to. She confided in me that she couldn’t stop taking laxatives and throwing up. “Kara, I did it again. I told myself I wasn’t going to but I did. I tried to hide it from my mom, because she says if I don’t stop she’s going to take me to the hospital and I don’t want to go there again.” “I can’t stop”. My heart started to beat faster. She had this problem too. I told her I understood that I had struggled with it also. “Don’t worry about that right now”, I told her. “Just focus on staying clean. We can work on the other problem once you get off drugs.” One thing at a time. Don’t try and put yourself under too much pressure to stop all these behaviors at once.” These were the things I was telling myself so I just naturally rationalized her behavior the same way. I had no idea the deadly nature of bulimia and anorexia. I thought the only way it could become fatal is if you literally starved yourself to death. “I feel so ashamed”, she would share with me as she would sob on the other end of the phone as I would just hold the phone trying to think of something to say to console her.
It came to me to read her a page from my “Just Today” daily meditation book by Iyanla Vanzant, which often inspired me. I randomly opened up the page and it was about forgiveness. It was about our angels praying to our father in heaven “Father forgive them for they no not what they do”. It repeated over and over and Pamela began to chime in. Father forgive them, father forgive me for I know not what I do. She was laughing and crying all at the same time. She had found a little bit of relief in what we read. I heard just a hint of hope in her voice as I hung up with her that last time. Just days before, I had seen her standing in front of the building where our meetings had been held. Her mood could vacillate from lethargy to laughter back to anguish within the hour. This time when I looked in her eyes, it came to me to ask about her children. He is telling them lies about me. I’m afraid they will never forgive me. I feel so worthless. I felt a chill as I told her I knew God loved her and had great plans for her. The look she gave me at that moment sent chills up my spine. Not the kind of “God Bumps” we would often get when we felt the spirit or energy of truth or love but a deep dark kind of chill, the kind I used to feel in that house on Hickey. I realize now, that is the chill of death.
When the soul begins to disown the body, there is a coldness that begins to set it and if the spirit doesn’t come into acceptance that they must move on it’s almost as though the soul tries to occupy a space that isn’t theirs anymore. It was like looking into a black hole when I looked in her eyes that last time. I walked with her to the Mexican food place around the corner and watched her as she struggled to eat a few bites of her burrito. She was barely cognizant and stumbled as we walked back to the meeting. After we sat down, she nodded out and we had to have someone drive her home. That was the last time I saw her.
Halloween night, my son and I were shopping for a last minute costume at the mall. I had left my phone in the car and when I checked it, I had missed 9 calls, three from Pamela. I called her back and no answer. I had her mom’s number so I called her. As I waited for an answer, my heart was beating faster and faster. I had this feeling something was terribly wrong. “We are at the hospital, Kara”, her mom told me when she finally answered the phone. “Pamela got really sick and I rushed her to Scottsdale Memorial and now she is in a coma and the Dr’s don’t think she is going to come out of it. They’ve go tubes sticking in her all over the place.” “I’ll be right there, I assured her. I took my son to his fathers and called Donny, my boyfriend at the time. Donny knew Pamela also and had spoken to her once when she tried to slit her wrists. I remember feeling so jealous that he had given her any attention and ignored her for some time hoping she would just go away. She was so pretty and I was sure Donny was interested in her. When she asked me to be her sponsor, I figured that was God’s sick sense of humor to get me over myself. Donny met me at my house and we were off to go see her.
Pamela lay lifeless as we entered her room. Her mother just sat there watching her and seemed relieved we had come. The silence in the room was deafening and it was obvious she felt comforted by our being there. Can she hear us, I asked? I don’t know, her mom replied as if she had wondered the same thing. They say just because someone can’t speak or acknowledge you doesn’t mean they don’t know what’s going on or can’t hear you. I pulled up a chair on the other side of the bed from where Pam’s mom sat and just gazed at her. There were machines breathing for her but her heart had still beat on its own. There was a breathing tube and mask, multiple IV’s and other monitors attached to her fragile little body. She almost looked like a skeleton and yet was still so beautiful. What happened, did she overdose?
Actually, it wasn’t the Vicodan that made her sick, it was her bulimia. I froze. What? They are finishing the tests, but what they are saying is that she has damaged the lining of her stomach so badly with how she has abused laxatives and forcing her self to vomit that the stomach acid has actually eaten a hole through the lining and has gone into her blood stream. It is causing all her organs to shut down. The fingers on her left hand were almost completely purple and you could see it starting on her index finger on her right hand. Is there any chance she could come out of it? They don’t think so… less than 20%. As I listened to her mom tell me that it wasn’t the drugs that were killing her, but the eating disorder a million thoughts went through my head. How could I have been so stupid?! Here I was the one she picked to help her and I had encouraged her not to worry about throwing up. Why would I? I was doing it too. It wasn’t so bad in my mind, I didn’t think it could kill you. I could understand how anorexia could kill you, you would starve to death. I wasn’t starving myself, I was just controlling my calorie intake. I didn’t throw up everything, just what I wanted to…so I thought. Suddenly I felt so guilty for all the jealous thoughts I had toward her.
Here she was dying and it was probably because I was so selfish. If I had only reached out to her sooner or would have been more available to her instead of avoiding her calls when I was with Donny, she might not be in this condition. How could I have missed those last calls?! My voice mail was full so she couldn’t even leave a message. I knew I had failed her and now it was too late. There seemed nothing I could do to make this right.
I couldn’t even cry. My heart felt like ice. That would happen sometimes with really intensely emotional situations, I felt frozen and numb, except for the guilt. Pam’s mom and I sat a spoke for about an hour. We discussed the last couple of weeks and shared our last memories of the time we had spent with her. I asked her mother what had happed to Pam that made her so hopeless. Well it was her father, she explained. She never felt like he loved her. He would come home drunk and wake her up and yell at her, beat on her door, stuff like that. Once Pam walked in while he was raping me and I think that really affected her. I sat there beginning to feel really sad.
I just listened as she told me story after story of a little girl who was so traumatized no wonder she couldn’t comprehend a life worth living. When Pam was a little girl, maybe five or six, she had to wear special shoes. They were made out of wood and very expensive. Pam forgot them outside once and it rained. Well, they got wet and were ruined and for that Pam’s father killed her cat right in front of her. I don’t thing she could ever get over that. As I sat there, I began to feel this rage inside of me. How could someone do that?! How come Pam’s mom didn’t leave. I wanted to blame her and get her to admit her part but I just listened and tried not to let my anger show. Would you mind staying here while I go to get her brother, he’s flying in at 9 and I need to go to the airport, we should be back no later that 9:30? Sure, I agreed. Donny got back with some coffee from the cafeteria and I told him we needed to stay until her mom got back. Wow, her brother is coming in to say goodbye to his little sister. The sound of the heart, blood pressure and oxygen monitors were hypnotic.
I got a bible and started to read. I read psalms, through the valley of death I shall not fear. I only wanted to read the bible which was odd because I was at a place in my opinion of organized religion that made me questions everything about dogmatic, legalistic, fear based religion, namely Christianity, but I felt like that’s what Pam and her mom would want so I just read. I read psalms 23:4 "Yea though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me." She really was walking through the valley of death and I was with her. In my mind I pictured this hallway with all the rooms of Pamela’s life. I couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be unable to talk or respond in anyway but I had the feeling she could hear me. I knew in my heart she was glad I was there but I also felt like she wanted to go. She wanted out of this body she had abused and loathed for so long. I could relate. It was only a little more than a year before that I came close myself.
I didn’t see any way out and yet I hated my life and what I’d become, I felt so hopeless. This could have very easily been me but Pam had crossed the line. She wasn’t coming back; it was just a matter of time. I kept getting the feeling that she felt trapped. She just wanted to go. I’m sure she was aware that the doctors had said that even if she did come out of it, one or both of her hands would have to be cut off as a result of the loss of circulation. She would be incapacitated.
As I finished reading one scripture, I felt compelled to read another. I felt this urgency to give her as much as I could. Her spirit seemed to be eating it up. I read Corinthians I 13: 1-13 about Love. I prayed over her and reminded her that she was forgiven, that she would soon get to go and for her to forgive herself, that her children would be okay. I watched as her chest rose and declined rhythmically to the beat of the breathing machine. The monitors chimed in reporting her heart beat, blood pressure and oxygen levels. I kept watching the clock.
Soon her mother and brother would be here from the airport. I wondered what her brother might say to her. I didn’t remember her mentioning him but she didn’t reveal a lot about her family. She was so out of it most of the time; it was hard to have any type of a lengthy conversation with her. She hadn’t been close with many people since she came into our twelve step fellowship. Unfortunately, she found a couple people who just wanted to use her. Jake was one that was still using himself. Wendy and Jake would “hang out”occasionally. She would disappear with him during our after meetings. It is so sad how we seem to be attracted to what is bad for us. Once, early in recovery, I had a dream about a snake and a lizard. I bought my son a lizard for his kindergarten graduation. It lived in his room in a glass cage with a screened lid. In this dream I walked into his room only to this lizard tattered and torn, and missing one of its legs. The screened lid had become dismantled and the snake managed to get into the cage and attack the lizard.
As I watched the snake in its attempt to devour its prey, I acted quickly by reaching my hand into the cage and removing the lizards body from the grip of the snakes mouth. I through the snake away, put the lizard back down in its cage and secured the lid. I saw that even though it was missing one of its limbs and appeared pretty mangled, it was still alive so I left the room. I got this feeling of death. The same feeling I was feeling right now with Pamela. She was in deaths grip. There was nothing I could do but watch. I couldn’t reach in and save her no matter how much I wanted to. I was learning about the truly deadly nature of this “disease”. My dream ended when I walked back into my son’s room only to find the lizard crawling up toward a tear in the screen not big enough for the snakes head to fit through but large enough for the lizard’s body. I was dismayed as I watched the lizard crawl up toward this hole trying to find the snake again. I was angry. I had saved the lizard and it barely survived. I made sure it was safe from the snake and I couldn’t understand why it was seeking the very thing that would kill it.
What was the appeal of the snake? It was like the lizard was hypnotized and entranced by the illusion of freedom the snake offered even if it meant death. The lizard was willing to die just to escape its cage. Maybe that is why as recovering addicts, we seek a spiritual awakening. I didn’t know that the prison of my life could be transformed by God only if I had the willingness and faith to wait. Our diseased thinking tells us there is no other way out. The idea of death becomes more appealing than feeling trapped in our lives. At one point, I saw freedom in drugs. They freed me from the prison of my emotions that contained me with so much anxiety and suffering; but only temporarily and less effectively as my disease progressed. Without the tools I have been taught in the 12 step fellowship, I would have never known there was another way. As I sit and watch Pamela, I realize that she had sought the snake one too many times and this time would be her last, it was just a matter of time. As I continued to read scripture, I kept glancing at the clock on the wall. It was 9:25 and soon her brother would be here. I put the bible down and just started talking to Pam. “Everything is going to be okay” I told her. “You will be free soon”. Suddenly the monitors started making noise. I looked at Donny a little startled. What’s wrong with those things, how come they’re starting to make so much noise?
Soon one of the nurses appeared at the door and then another. Her vitals are starting to go down. I watched the nurses face as she studied the numbers on the monitors. We had been schooled earlier by Pam’s mom, what the different numbers meant. Her oxygen level, heart rate and blood pressure needed to stay at certain levels for Pam to be alive. The beeps and colors of the digital numbers on the monitors became part of Pamela. The tube stuck in her throat pumping oxygen into her lungs was like my hand in the lizards cage trying to save it, only a temporary solution. As the deep black purple color spread through the rest of her fingers and hands, and the crevices on her face deepened even in only a couple of hours, it was very apparent to me she was not improving. It was just a matter of time before her body would completely give up. My idea of death was transforming as I watched her deteriorate. This death was a process not an event and we were part of it. I felt so honored to be there. In my heart, I knew she was glad I was there too, although I felt like I had failed her. This was the most time I had ever spent with her.
I had gotten to know her better now as she finally surrendered than all the times before. “She is starting to go”, one of the nurses admitted. At that instant, I felt this surge of energy through my entire body. “Not yet”, I said. Her brother isn’t here yet. I looked at the clock; it was exactly 9:30pm. Inside I knew that Pamela had waited until now to go. She had heard us talking. She had heard that her brother would be here by 9:30pm and now she wanted to go. I felt her urgency to leave. “Pam, you can’t go yet. Your brother isn’t here yet, he is flying here to say good bye to you. Just hold on a little bit longer.” As I said that her heart rate went back up but her oxygen levels were still too low. Her blood pressure was still dropping as I examined the monitors. “Pam, you’re going to need to get your oxygen level up… and your blood pressure.” They started to rise. “Up, up, up, get them up” There was this “life coach” inside of me that started to do her job. “You can do it. You can stay alive just a little bit longer” By now there were several nurses standing in the room and by the door. “I have never seen anything like this before”, “This is amazing”, another sighed as they all watched the monitors respond to us. Pam and I were connected at a very deep level.
I could feel her. I could feel her wanting to leave, but I felt her willingness to follow the lead of the spirit within me that was coaching her. It was all she could do to hold on. “I’m so proud of you, Pam. You are doing it! You are choosing life, right now!” I knew in my heart, that she got it. She finally got to experience herself choosing to live, even if it would only be a short time longer. I could feel her laughter in tears as she responded to my report of her vitals. This went on for about 45 minutes. I was exhilarated and exhausted.
By now, most of the staff on that floor had visited the doorway to witness this amazing testimony of life and connection. Her vitals were responding in direct proportion to my words. When her oxygen levels, heart rate and blood pressure would get too low, I would coach them up and they were responding. She was giving me a gift too. It was almost as if she was saying; I know I didn’t really give you a chance to help me before but I want you to know how much I appreciate you believing in me. I will do this for you, so you won’t feel so disappointed. I knew that Pam could hear me. It wasn’t my voice she heard. It was my heart. With each word I spoke, my heart was what connected with her. It was the intention of my heart filled with the Holy Spirit that was communicating with her and it was undeniable. Finally, around 10:15 pm her brother and mother walked into the room obviously rushing to get back. I’m sorry we’re late she explained. Everything had been delayed. The plane, the traffic… “We got here as soon as we could”. “Why are there so many people in here”? Then they told her. This has been the most amazing thing we have ever seen. This woman has helped Pam to stay alive.
They explained briefly about Pam’s vitals and what had happened. I looked at Pam’s mother and brother; “It would be really good for you to say anything you want to say to her now. She wants to leave but waited for you”. Tears immediately flooded both of their eyes, I looked at Pam and said “Goodbye and good job, I’ll see you again someday.” Donny and I stepped out of the room as Pam’s brother pulled out the letter he had written to her on the plane ride there. We stood outside the room while they said their last goodbyes. I heard Pam’s mom comfort her; “Go with Jesus, honey. Just go with Jesus” Then the nurse turned off the oxygen machine, the monitors chimed their last beeps, slowing down to one constant and soon she was gone.
At the funeral, there was a picture of Pamela, her children and her dogs. She had been a cheerleader and honor roll student. She had such a beautiful smile but there was sadness in her eyes you could notice if you looked closely. Everyone loved her. They played the song “Wind beneath my wings” and I finally cried. As we left the memorial service, her brother gave me a hug. “Thank you so much for what you did. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t been able to tell her I loved her while she was still alive. I really needed to read her what I wrote in that letter. I cannot express how much I appreciate that.” I told him; "It was God and your welcome". It was just as much a gift to me.
She truly was an angel… unaware.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Is "Hate" a Spiritual Principal?
This morning I read Proverbs 6:16 about the six things God “Hates”. I'm a little confused by a seeming contradiction. Also, the word “hate” bothers me in the context of God because the bible also says that “God is love”.
In the New American Standard Bible, in John Ch. 1 vs. 1 it states; "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things came into being through Him; and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being. Here's my question; If God is love and God created something he could “hate” why would he do that? Isn't hate the opposite of love?
For the agnostics, atheists or those who simply dismiss the bible as a fictional story and throw Jesus out with the bath water so to speak, I am not so interested to hear those common excuses. I have found that attitude to be limiting and not in alignment with my own personal spiritual experience studying scripture. I would like to hear from those like me having found validity in the truth of Christ yet search their own hearts with these kinds of questions and wonder the sense of it all.
Also, I guess as I round the bend of my youth these days, I understand “hate” a little bit better.
It wasn’t long ago, I bought into the Marxist socialist idea that we should just all get along, share everything and buy solar panels and mercury filled light bulbs. That would be too co-dependent. As we all have begun to see flashes of evidence of the real motives behind the current corrupt powers at work, it is like watching a modern day version of the Wizard of OZ with a sicker twist; someone really weak and cowardly behind the curtain promising all of all of us that "special something" at the end of the yellow brick road (we already have within us). As I watch the evil of greed and lust for power at work, I hate it. I hate the fact that Greedy Criminal Bankers are trying to create a one world government so they can take over and maintain complete control and that so many drink the “cool-aid”. I hate the fact that the white house administration can pledge complete transparency yet what is happening behind closed doors will further collapse our economy and devastate the quality of health care in our country no matter what our wishful thinking may tell us. I hate that children around the world are being abused, and exploited. I hate that faithful patriotic men and women are fighting for freedom our leaders are giving away in the name of green. I hate that our safe school czar is so dangerous. I hate the fact that so many our brainwashed by mainstream media “republicans included” and that we have been so conditioned to believe everything we see or read. I hate that Tiger Woods cheated on his wife and what that must be doing to his family. I hate that he can use being a “sex addict” as a rationalization since he “sick and not bad”. I hate it all yet I still have hope that God knows what is happening and is simply giving the world enough rope to hang itself to a point of surrender. I guess hate isn’t the opposite of love after all, simply a reflection of it. I wonder how others feel and think and how many even care. I pray; Psalm 139.
In the New American Standard Bible, in John Ch. 1 vs. 1 it states; "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things came into being through Him; and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being. Here's my question; If God is love and God created something he could “hate” why would he do that? Isn't hate the opposite of love?
For the agnostics, atheists or those who simply dismiss the bible as a fictional story and throw Jesus out with the bath water so to speak, I am not so interested to hear those common excuses. I have found that attitude to be limiting and not in alignment with my own personal spiritual experience studying scripture. I would like to hear from those like me having found validity in the truth of Christ yet search their own hearts with these kinds of questions and wonder the sense of it all.
Also, I guess as I round the bend of my youth these days, I understand “hate” a little bit better.
It wasn’t long ago, I bought into the Marxist socialist idea that we should just all get along, share everything and buy solar panels and mercury filled light bulbs. That would be too co-dependent. As we all have begun to see flashes of evidence of the real motives behind the current corrupt powers at work, it is like watching a modern day version of the Wizard of OZ with a sicker twist; someone really weak and cowardly behind the curtain promising all of all of us that "special something" at the end of the yellow brick road (we already have within us). As I watch the evil of greed and lust for power at work, I hate it. I hate the fact that Greedy Criminal Bankers are trying to create a one world government so they can take over and maintain complete control and that so many drink the “cool-aid”. I hate the fact that the white house administration can pledge complete transparency yet what is happening behind closed doors will further collapse our economy and devastate the quality of health care in our country no matter what our wishful thinking may tell us. I hate that children around the world are being abused, and exploited. I hate that faithful patriotic men and women are fighting for freedom our leaders are giving away in the name of green. I hate that our safe school czar is so dangerous. I hate the fact that so many our brainwashed by mainstream media “republicans included” and that we have been so conditioned to believe everything we see or read. I hate that Tiger Woods cheated on his wife and what that must be doing to his family. I hate that he can use being a “sex addict” as a rationalization since he “sick and not bad”. I hate it all yet I still have hope that God knows what is happening and is simply giving the world enough rope to hang itself to a point of surrender. I guess hate isn’t the opposite of love after all, simply a reflection of it. I wonder how others feel and think and how many even care. I pray; Psalm 139.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
