A life worth saving...

It was a cold December night, so he is wearing a parka. He was a wild youth...wild, troubled, desperate. He had just robbed a gas station. THEY were after him, which only served to make him even more desperate. He fled in a car to the interstate, where he bailed out of the car and fired three shots at a Sheriff's Deputy that was pursuing him. He ran. He tried desperately to think of a plan. How could he get away? Then it came to him; he hid in a field until the searchers were gone. K-9s were not a part of every police force as they are today and infra-red lights are at least one decade away. So they missed him. He got away, but he is far from safe. There are two outstanding warrants for him: one for sexual assault and the other for grand theft auto. He is growing more desperate by the minute.

He had to get away. He needed a plan. He could see a house with lights on. Then it came to him, "Go to THEM." Yes, go to them and that would make them stop coming. He ran and ran. He had to get to the house.

On the other side of town, a family is preparing dinner. This well liked family of six is headed by the Mequon Police Chief. The four boys were their parents' pride. There are many athletic events to attend for this family. Many future joys of parenthood for a man and wife who adored each other as much as they adored their boys. It was a good life.

They lived a nice life in a mid-western suburb of Milwaukee. It is a place where Mercedes, BMWs and Jaguars are the automobile of choice. It is a nice community where good things happen to good people. It is a community that takes pride in its schools and services.

It is Dec. 2, 1979, a Sunday and the youth in the parka, Anthony Johnson, 19, knocks on the farm house door. The father is in the shower, so one of the older children answers the door. The youth forces his way into the house. He tells the woman that he is here to see her husband. She tells him he isn't available right now and asks him to step outside. Then the youth makes a choice that will affect all of the lives discussed before: he pulls a gun.

The family of five was pushed into the living room. The parents and three children. One of the children was only two months old, her name was Becky Schuller, her daddy's name is Doug.

Anthony wants to flee the home, so he orders Doug to drive him in the family car. Before Anthony and Doug walk out of the house, Anthony grabs the baby-he has decided to bring her along for insurance; however, the wind chill is 45 degrees below zero and the baby is only dressed in a terry cloth onesie. Perhaps Anthony didn't have a chance to take all of the factors into consideration. More likely he didn't care. No, he didn't care that he was stacking the odds against his little bundle of insurance-a two month old baby cannot survive the wind chill with nothing more than a terry-cloth outfit.

Mequon Police Chief Tom Buntrock was called in because the gas station had been robbed. Meanwhile, Anthony, Doug and Baby Becky are fleeing the farm house. Doug's wife, Regina contacted the police and they surrounded the car in town. Anthony shoved the barrel of a gun into the baby's ribs and threatened to shoot her if police tried to capture him.

Chief Buntrock was a voice of calm in the scene. He told Anthony to calm down. Then Chief Buntrock removed his own winter coat and gave it to Anthony to wrap around the baby. The stand-off continued, but then Chief Buntrock made an offer that Anthony couldn't refuse: the chief offered to trade places with Baby Becky. It was too good to be true: a cop for a crying baby. Anthony agreed.

Anthony handed the baby to the chief and the chief passed the baby to the police chaplain. The chaplain's eyes locked with the chief's and the chief handed his side arm to the chaplain. Then the chief climbed into the car with Anthony and Becky's dad, Doug, who escaped. So it was the desperate youth and the chief of police in the vehicle.

The chief and Anthony struggled with the gun and a shot was fired. Anthony had been mortally wounded in the head. The Chief shot him, but in the darkness of the night, it looked like Anthony had fired the shot, so officers fired and killed the Chief. A tragedy that is very difficult to live with for the officers, the Chief's family and for the Schuller's.

The Chief's wife, Kathy, eventually remarried. Their boys are good men. Becky's mom, Regina and Kathy became lifelong friends. They get together every Christmas Eve to remember the man who saved Becky's life.

Chief Thomas Buntrock Memorial statue in front of the Mequon Police Department

Chief Buntrock traded his life for that of Baby Becky Schuller, who is now a beautiful young woman. She got married just last year. Just one week ago, she graduated with honors from medical school. Yes, Baby Becky is now a doctor and she saves lives. Chief Buntrock did a wonderful thing that bitter cold December night. He knows it. Becky knows it. God knows it. Now so do you.

Bessie

I found our Bassett online. Her sad, sorrowful face caught my eye, but I don't mean the sadness of the Bassett Hound breed; I mean the sadness of a soul that had been abused and abandoned and abused some more.

We rescued her. I have spoken of her plight before and won't rehash it, but I would like to say that we have had her now for two years. She is comfortable again with men and she likes nothing better than to curl up next to Husband and sleep beside him. This is a huge deal because she would cower at his feet when we first adopted her. She has learned to trust again.

Well, Basset is a gentle soul. A true beauty and pure bred. Never have I owned a pure bred dog, but Bessie needed to be pampered and I could tell that immediately. You wouldn't know her today if you saw her picture before. She had no light in her eyes back then...no urgency.

Saturday afternoon, we had thunderstorms with big booming claps. Basset is afraid of thunderstorms...so are Number One Daughter and Youngest. Just after the storms started, Basset had to get on our bed because Husband was reclining on it and I was typing nearby. Yes, Bassett thinks that she is a lap dog, especially when thunderstorms are here.

She knew long before we did that the thunder was rolling this way and we knew this because she began to tremble from aft to stern. She quakes and shivers the whole time, usually.

The kids came running upstairs when the thunder began. Whimpering and crying, they joined us on the bed and we did our best to soothe them. Then, an intermission from the thunder and the kids bounded back down the stairs. Basset jumped off of our bed and followed them to the top of the stairs and began to dance urgently. She began to vocalize too. "Ur...woof. Woof." But the kids left her at the top of the stairs. Bassett ran back into our room to tell on the kids, "Woof! Woof!" she said urgently.

Then back to the stairs and barking her head off. Loudly. Urgently. Then I told Husband, "She's calling to the kids. There's more thunder coming and she wants them back up here." I called the kids and she cried and whimpered as they bounded back up stairs. Meanwhile, Youngest is calling happily, "What is it? What is it, Mom?"

Basset welcomed them and herded them back into our room and soon after, the thunder began again in earnest. The kids hid "under the tent." And Basset joined them. She shivered the whole time and the kids tried to comfort her.

Each time that they took off down stairs, Basset would call them back, so I made them stay near. She had enough to worry her. Basset charmed me on Saturday afternoon. She is deathly afraid of thunderstorms, but she set that aside to bring the kids back to her. She wanted to comfort and protect them.

Basset isn't the brightest animal in the world, but she is very loving and loyal. These traits are very important-more so when you have small children. In two years, Bessie has come a long way. She knows that she can set aside her fears in our home. What a great gift for the kids, too. They empathize with her. Youngest sat beside Bessie under the covers telling her it would be alright and she did the same for him. They rescued each other in their fright. They taught each other the meaning of courage and caring.

Her face isn't as sad any more. She didn't play when for the first year and a half, but now, when she is chasing the kids from room to room, or when I tell her, "I'm going to get you!" She smiles. Her gums roll back and there it is: a smile. And my heart melts. She is happy again. Every living being and creature deserves to be happy.

After the storm was over, Basset lied down on the floor and sighed. The kids were getting ready for bed and books. She wanders into their rooms to make sure that they are tucked in and then she lies down near our bed-asleep, but on-guard. Basset's home is safe for another day. Thank you, Good Girl.

Cats...not the play

Salsa-short hair tabby, gray, white and bits of orange. Pepper-Long hair tabby, gray and black with bits of brown. These are our cats. Husband and I purchased Salsa before we were married; I should say that Salsa purchased Husband. She kept "hounding" him. She was kissing his hand and huddling near him. Husband wanted a calico, but I wouldn't let him have it...it was sick...very sick, so I pointed out Salsa and that is when Husband realized that she had been after him. Women like Husband.

Husband had never had a pet before, so it was easy to get a cat. It was true love. Husband worked third shift, so they slept together all day. Salsa would lie on his chest, or cuddle up next to him under the blanket. She washed his hair and was always around him. He was her pet...like in 101 Dalmations.

Pepper came to live with us about five years later. She picked me. She was wrapping herself around my ankles. This time I was none the wiser. I didn't see her. This time, Husband spied her. She is Alisha's cat.

Of course as the kids came along, the cats took a backseat in our lives. We love them and they know this. Salsa knows little ones pull hair and squish instead of hug...even if it is unintentional, it is very hard on Salsa. Pepper on the other hand is very tolerant. She wraps herself around the kids on and off through out the day, but Salsa hides all day. Every night after the kids are asleep, Salsa comes out of hiding with a question mark on her tail. The very tip is curved like the beginning of the question mark as if she is asking, "How was your day?" or "Are the kids sleeping? It's my turn for attention."

It is a tribute to humans that such noble creatures would take a liking to us. We adopt them and tend to their needs and they grudgingly understand when they are pushed aside in a family. It is as if they know that there is a pecking order in a family too...and they tolerate this.

That is the mark of unconditional love. We take a backseat to another's needs, choices and desires. When we are needed, we are there and always will be. Unconditional love changes with circumstances, but is never far away. So it is with life, love, pets and children...unconditional love is a solid foundation on which to build a family. It is a noble trait to teach. It is so base, that we can learn it from our pets. Perhaps pet ownership should be a requirement before parenthood. It is a good way to measure a person's ability to love in all circumstances and reasons-unconditionally.

A Memorial Day Prayer...

The love between the two of us was dying
And it got so bad I knew I had to leave
But halfway down that highway
when I turned around I saw
My little daughter running after me
Crying, "Daddy, don't you walk so fast."

"Daddy, don't you walk so fast,"
"Daddy, slow down some 'cause you're makin' me run"
"Daddy, don't you walk so fast"

Now, it broke my heart to tell my little daughter
That her daddy had to run to catch a train
She had no way of knowin'
I was leavin' home for good

I turned around and there she was again
As she said to me,
"Daddy, don't you walk so fast"
"Daddy, don't you walk so fast"
"Daddy, slow down some"
"'cause you're makin' me run
"Daddy, don't you walk so fast"

If only for the sake of my sweet daughter
I just had to turn back home right there and then
And try to start a new life
with the mother of my child
I couldn't bear to hear those words again
She cried and said, "Daddy, don't you walk so fast"

(My darling cried)
"Daddy, don't you walk so fast"
"Daddy, slow down some 'cause you're makin' me run"
"Daddy, don't you walk so fast"
"Daddy, slow down some 'cause you're makin' me run"

"Oh, daddy, don't you walk so fast"
My darling cried,
Daddy, don't you walk so fast...fades...

Mr. Skinner

We lived on a cul de sac in Japan, stationed there to get officers closer to Vietnam. See, they, the enemy were killing officers very fast in Vietnam, so they needed to station officers close in case they were needed to lead troops.

On the curve of the cul de sac, was a four family unit. In the center left were the Skinners. Linda Skinner was my best friend; she was one year younger than me. We played Barbies and other things together.

Linda Skinner's brother's name was Allan. He was in my class at school. He was the light of my lfe. Oh! How I loved Allan Skinner. Brown hair, cute...talented. He wrote a play and I was his leading lady. Oh! I did love him.

Their dad was as big as a house. A ten-story house. He was a big man in every sense of the word. Tall with broad shoulders and a quick smile. I remember the first time that I saw him. He looked exactly like John Wayne. I am not kidding. There is a saying that everyone has a twin and I have seen it proved twice. I have seen my twin and I have seen John Wayne's twin.

Mr. Skinner was home--in Japan--on leave. I will never forget that man, if only because the image of him is seared in my brain as he excited his residence. There it was John Wayne in the form of Allan Skinner's dad.

I don't know how long it was after I first saw him and I don't remember actually hearing the news, but I remember seeing the dark sedans come rolling down the cul de sac. I remember all of a sudden all of us kids had to go home. I remember our eyes following the dark sedans rolling to a stop before the four-plex. I remember the men--many men--in uniforms with lots of shinny bars on them. And I remember them heading toward the four-plex...all seemingly walking at attention. Then the leader of the group did a crisp turn in front of Linda and Allan Skinner's door. All of the men seemed to march up to the door. Rap. Rap. Rap.


Mr. Skinner had boarded a helicopter that morning. He was heading home. His helicopter was shot down and he lost his life. It was somewhere between 1969 and 1971. He died a hero. He died defending our freedoms and a country where we have so much and take it for granted. Yes, he died far from home, but so close to being there...this man, officer, father, husband, friend. Larger than life-that was Mr. Skinner. John Wayne had nothing on Mr. Skinner.

Memorial Day, 2005, God Bless America

Guilt or Inspiration...

We are always too busy for our children; we never give them the time or interest they deserve. We lavish gifts upon them; but the most precious gift, our personal association, which means so much to them, we give grudgingly.

Mark Twain 1835-1910, American Humorist, Writer

He came to me

And when it really matters...when there is something that could be overwhelming and insurmountable on his own...my 18 year old came to me...to lay his burdens on my shoulder with tears streaming down his cheeks...he came to me for hope and help.

After all of my worrying and it is warranted, he knew that he could count on me. Thus, my boy knows that he wants to be a man, but that he still needs help...we had a good talk....a very good talk...after which, Youngest came upstairs and told Oldest, "I miss you," more tears in Oldest's eyes. Maybe he did "get" it all along, he just needed to come to that conclusion on his own.

Flashing

I was in my robe. It has two ties. Youngest untied the lower one this morning.

This afternoon, I am still in my robe-don't ask-I am letting our Basset Hound outside from our FRONT door. Hello. Hello. Hello. Smile to the neighbor and the people passing by. Then while on my way to the door to let our dog back inside, I realize that my 'glory' is hanging out for all to see. Good morning, America! How are you?

Field trip

Rise and shine!!!!! "Is it today already?" Number One Daughter asked excitedly. "Yes, it is!" I replied. She jumped four feet into the air and began to get ready for school. Okay, maybe it was only four inches into the air, but it seemed like forty feet, come to think of it. Excited? Oh yeah! She was going on her first real field trip. And I was sick to my stomach.

They would board the bus in little over two hours. She isn't usually up this early, but this was a special occasion. She rattled off all of the rules for the hundredth time: No skirts. No dresses. Wear a sweat shirt or spring jacket over a short sleeve shirt. She had them memorized.

They were traveling to the Children's Museum, which was about a one and a half hour bus ride from where we live. That is my problem. She was traveling all that way: alone. Solo. I know that her teacher would be there and she is more than wonderful. She is capable, sweet, encouraging, enthusiastic and loving. All the traits that make a teacher exemplary. She is wonderful and Number One Daughter is lucky to be in her class. Yet, even though I adore her teacher, I cannot shake the feeling that something was bound to happen to my little girl on that big bus. After all, it was a big metro and there would be a lot of traffic.

I needn't have worried. Everything was fine and the real measure of the field trip was when Number One Daughter ran into the house and proclaimed, "It was so great, I didn't know what to do FIRST!" I am giggling as I type it. She was happy and content...until her tiredness took over...long before bedtime. She was out of sorts and I explained to her why she was so tired. I told her she would probably dream about the museum and that was all it took! She was ready for bed so that she could relive her day.

So she sleeps with a smile on her angelic face. All is right in her world. Magic abounds. Isn't it great to be alive!

Lost post

Sigh. I had written this post at 2:30, but it is lost some where in the great void, which is disappointing. I was eloquent and thoughtful. I arrived at revelations. Isn't that the best reason to blog? Well, let me see if I can recall what I had written and I am open to other revelations and realizations.

The post was entitled "Milestones". Number One Daughter is graduating from Kindergarten in two weeks and Oldest should be walking across the senior high school stage to collect his diploma. Alas, summer school is in his future. I have discussed how he is floundering and failing in earlier posts. It is disappointing and sad. However, maybe it is like Lightfeather explained to me. She said that he is pushing me away so that he can get enough distance to leave the nest.

It is the way of it. I remember pushing my parents away. I had decisions to make and a life to live. I pushed and pushed. Sometimes, I look back with regret, but mostly, I think I look at it as spreading my wings.

So perhaps that is what my son is doing. He has gotten off course, but he is trying like crazy to be a man. I cannot fault him for that. And when I think about his actions as getting him off of his true path, into trouble in his classes, it is easier to look at it with perspective.

If he is off of his path, I can try to help him find the wind to refill the sails. I can point him that way over there and try to take a spectators seat instead of an officer at the helm. It is a difficult role to reliquish, but a necessary one.


He is going to have to learn to sail this ship. He is going to have to make his mistakes and live with the consequences of his decisions. I can hug him when he falls, but I can't pick him up anymore. It is time for me to stand back and let him get to his feet on his own. Like a man.

Happiness

If you want happiness for an hour – take a nap.

If you want happiness for a day – go fishing.

If you want happiness for a month – get married.

If you want happiness for a year – inherit a fortune.

If you want happiness for a lifetime – help someone else.

Chinese Proverb

Aurora's babies Part IV

Ah she is determined, this mommy. She is holding on by threads of life that are thin, but very strong. Her maternal instinct is so very strong that not even nine months of starvation can take her away from her hatchlings. No, she will not leave them, not yet.

Mommy octopi spend seven months protecting, washing and defending their young. So Aurora, has gone without any real sustenance for almost nine months. Her eggs began to hatch very slowly; incredibly slowly because after all, the workers thought that the eggs were sterile. Ah, but what a surprise and miracle.

As Aurora continues to wash the unhatched eggs, they continue to hatch. At last count, there were over 1,000 hatchlings and they were beginning to feed on crustations and other food supplied by the Alaska SeaLife Center staff.

According to reports at the Center's website, the hatchlings haven't changed in appearance, but they expect to begin photographing them again this week. I look forward to seeing Aurora's babies. She is still the good mommy; never leaving the eggs unattended. She is doing her maternal duty. She is a mother in love with her babies and she is hanging on to see each and everyone before she passes away.

There is no room for sadness here. Aurora is giving her babies a great start. She is insuring that the eggs are in good condition until they hatch. She is watching, washing and waiting. She is a mommy and a miracle in one breath...defying science to see her young hatch. She is a tentacled miracle giving her babies water wings to carry them on to their motherhood and beyond.

It is hard to be 18

I am unhappy to the core of my being.
Not so much so that I do not enjoy the laughter of my little ones, but
to the point that my oldest is floundering and pushing everyone away in anger.
Hastily. Rudely...unendingly.

I know this pain.
It is hard to be 18.
He wants to be in charge.
He thinks that he is in charge,
but the things that he is in charge of
aren't worth the effort that he is giving them.

He doesn't see this.
He is going to enlist.
How I wish that he wouldn't.
It is his answer to the anger that he cannot escape.
He thinks that I am angry with him all of the time; yet, he doesn't see that he has a role in it.
It is immaturity, I think.

Discipline?
I do not like hitting or spanking for obvious reasons.
There is little that I can do to discipline him now. He won't accept my decisions as a parent.
It's my life. That is the best that he can offer.

I am making him pay rent now.
This made everything worse. Of course it would,
but if he isn't going to listen to me and follow the rules,
then he is a tenant in my house.
I do not know anything else to try. Ever since his 18th birthday, he has decided that he makes the rules and the decisions.
Insert very heavy sigh.

If he could see himself and what I hope for him through my eyes,
he might stop battling me so hard.
He might realize that all I have ever wanted was for him to be happy
and successful.

The world could be at his feet, but he can't seem them.
There is too much darkness escaping his mind. Too much turmoil.
I pray that he finds the light that will lead him out of the black and into the golden possibilities.

71 degrees

Hip, hip hooray!
Time to go and play...
It's gonna be sunny all day!!!
Hip, hip, hooray!!!

Bubbles, kites or helium balloons any thing that flies!!!!
Elvis has left the building!

My nephew...

has been accepted at Texas A & M University!!!!

Shed our skin

I do not know where I am going.
I don't know if I am where I should be or
if I should be moving
forward,
sideways,
backwards.
I do not know.

There are times when I feel like things are as they should be, but more often than not, I am wondering if this is the right place and time.

I am searching for balance. I am wondering when I will be ready.
Ready for what?
I do not even know that, but I have an idea.
Is it fair to want to be first?
Is it better to be last?

I am searching for answers, but only finding more questions. I am looking for my life, but only see the results of the past. I see my first child floundering and wonder how I can spare my little ones the same pain. I look at my husband and wonder what happened to my friend? I wonder if he asks himself the same question.

It's like being a snake...the time rolls by...then we stretch and grow, but we do not grow in one piece. We have to shed our skin...only then can we move on...only then can we truly grow.

She part III

She arrives at work. She says hello to everyone and collects her messages, production requests, etc. She is the afternoon drive radio personality. She sees the office managers and says hello. She stops to chat with one. The one friend notices the deep bruises on her arm and leg. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were a battered woman," she says with conviction. She laughs to deflect attention and then she heads down the hallway to the production room. She sits in the chair before the microphone and turns it on. The "on-air" light is on in the hallway-no one will enter. She rests her head in her hands. She is shaking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her baby can walk now. She has been in therapy for some time, exercising demons that have been buried in her mind, in her heart, in her soul. Yes, many, many monsters have played a role, but they are not as big or powerful as they once were. There are many flashbacks to experience, many years of therapy ahead of her, but after one session in the middle of the week, she calls an airline. She has plans.

She picks up her phone and dials a long distance number-the one friend has moved to Illinois, too. The one friend answers the phone. She is shaking. She finds it hard to breathe. She takes a deep breath and says, "Remember the time at the station in Wyoming when you said if you didn't know better you would think that I was a battered woman? Well it is true. I am a battered woman. I have airplane tickets. I depart O'Hare at 8:00 a.m. Can you come and get me and take me to the airport?" The one friend says yes, of course! She will be there at 5:00 p.m. the next night.

There is nothing to say. She packs what she can carry and waits for her one friend. She has the carseat, clothes and the little boy. She must save the little boy. The one friend arrives at 5:00 p.m. The one friend loads the baby into the car. She lingers at the front door. She gets into the car and the one friend asks if she is okay, "No," she says shaking her head. The one friend holds her while she cries. Then they roll out of the driveway and she doesn't look back.

The one friend takes her to the airport and she and the baby are at the curb. She looks at the one friend and says, "thanks," as she begins to cry. Yes, thanks for helping me. Thank you. She is crying, but it isn't because she is leaving him. It is because she is grateful to have one good friend. One good friend to help her escape this painful life. One good friend to help her begin anew. She has only just begun.

She part II

She can't remember why he is hitting this time. He is using great force. She retreats to the bedroom, but he follows close behind. She falls to the bed and is actually sitting on the edge. He lands another blow to her head and she falls back, stunned. He is talking to her, but she can't hear the words. There is a huge noise in her ears. She doesn't recognize it, but likens it to "white noise." Loud with no real purpose. It makes everything fuzzy, too. He sits next to her and shakes her shoulder. She doesn't move and closes her eyes. He cradles her head and call her name, but she keeps her eyes closed and allows her body to go limp. He thinks she is unconscious. He leaves the room with her lying there. She doesn't move and realizes that she can fain unconsciousness and he will leave her alone. This is a useful revelation.

~~~~~~~~

She is in the kitchen making a cup of tea. He is in the bedroom smoking pot. He is leaving and she is happy. Before he leaves, he lights charcoal in the grill. He will cook meat when he returns. He is going to a farewell bash at a bar. He is going to drink.

She is sipping tea and reading a book while the baby is sleeping in his room. She looks up and stares into his room for no particular reason. Then she realizes that smoke is rolling out of the vent near the baby's room. She drops her book and runs toward the baby's room. As she passes the kitchen, she looks toward the back door. Flames! The house is on fire.

She retraces her steps and calls 9-1-1. They ask her question upon question. She finally screams in fear, "I have to get the baby out of the house!" Yes, the operator tells her get out of the house!

It is December 18th and there is a dusting of snow on the ground and the sun has set. She bundles her three month old in two baby blankets. She rushes outside. A volunteer firefighter rushes past her as she moves away from the house. The flames are above the roof. She holds the baby close and she stands there staring at the fire.

A woman from next door comes out and invites her into her home. "Come get warm," she says soothingly. "No," she says, "I'm waiting here. Would you call the bar? Tell him the house is on fire." The woman comes back soon and wraps a heavy blanket around the baby's mommy. In her rush to get the baby out, she didn't grab a coat or shoes for herself. The neighbor brings a pair of wool slippers, too. She looks at her neighbor gratefully. "Funny," she says to herself, "I didn't even know I was cold, coatless and shoeless." It is called disassociation; it has been her lifeline since before her first childhood memories.

He arrives and says that she looks like a commercial for homeowners insurance and he laughs. The fire is out soon. The firemen are rolling hoses. "You are lucky," they say, "the fire started next to the furnace. The gas might have exploded."

The firemen are taking the huge fans out of the house. There is a lingering smell of smoke, but it isn't as heavy as she thought it would be. She has placed the baby back in his crib and she says a silent prayer of thanks. The baby is safe. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

She sits on the couch and stares into space. The firemen are worried, "Are you okay? Hey, are you okay?" Three firemen are staring at her and she realizes that they are talking to her. Others exit her bedroom with a strange look on their faces. One of them is talking to him. After they are done talking with him, he looks at her with scorn. She shivers.

The firemen leave and he begins yelling, "Why didn't you put the stuff away?" He left his pot on the bed in plain view. The firemen found it. It is her fault. He is hitting her again. She doesn't feel a thing. He is hitting her, punching her. He lands a kick on her leg. It bruises immediately. She keeps thinking, "The baby is safe. Thank, God, the baby is safe." She doesn't feel the punches. It is called disassociation. It is a good defense. She learned it before she could walk or talk. There have been many monsters in her life.

She

She is running from the mobile home. The six month old baby is in the truck buckled into his carseat. The man is getting closer. She gets behind the wheel, but he is already there, pulling the door open.

He punches her in the head, the arm, the face...any where that he can land a punch. He tells her to get out of the truck, but she has the keys in the ignition. She knows if she can turn the ignition on and coax the truck forward, she will escape the beating...escape it all of it for the last time. "Get out of the truck," he shouts, but she is still trying to break free. She is trying to start the engine while dodging and blocking the punches. The baby is crying. She is yelling for him to leave her alone.

He grabs one of her legs and pulls her out of the cab. He has both of her ankles and she lands hard on her backside with nothing to break the fall. Tears are streaming down her cheeks. Her baby is crying and she is trying to get up. He is kicking her, while he tells her, "Look what you made me do." Yes, look what she made you do.

She finds her feet and crosses to the other side of the truck. She takes the baby out of the carseat and she makes him a bottle. She rocks the baby gently while singing, Edelweiss. Her baby falls asleep peacefully. She rocks him for hours, promising him that it will not always be this way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

She is hanging laundry in the backyard. She doesn't know that he is there. The baby is asleep in the house. Suddenly, something lands in the grass next to her. Boom! A fire cracker. Then it begins to rain fire crackers. She can hear him laughing, while she is begging him to stop throwing them. He laughs and tosses them endlessly. She pleads for him to stop, but he thinks it is so very funny. So very, very funny.

~~~~~~~~~~~

She is sleeping hard and the baby is in his crib. Suddenly, she jumps awake. He is punching her in the head. "Get up and go see what that noise is," he says between punches. "What is happening," she asks meekly and then she hears the noise, too. Someone is in the house. "I'm scared," she says in a whisper, but he keeps hitting her and telling her to go find out who is in their house. It is the landlord. The baby is fine. She is dizzy.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Stark reality

The Sudan in Africa is no stranger to civil war and hunger. Starvation is going to become the number one killer in Darfur. Yes, even above violence. (Darfur has been the subject of ethnic genocide. If you are unable to read about it, watch Tears of the Sun, which stars Bruce Willis and Monica Belluci in this scene, they are looking out the door of a blackhawk helicopter and seeing the bodies of people murdered. Shortly after this view, Willis orders the pilot to turn around and so begins a tale of survival during the ethnic cleansing.)

Darfur is entering the rainy season, which will make it much more difficult to get food to the residents. Some experts say that a famine is a given in the region where starvation is already killing children every minute of every day.

I'm sorry, but these pictures are haunting me. I am sharing them with you because there is a very easy way for us to help and it is free... please click to donate food. Each time that you click, a portion is donated for food distribution. Please do it every day.

Click to Feed the Hungry

Dear God,
Please forgive me for complaining about anything in my life.

You provide for us each day.

Help us to not waste food.

We know hunger, but not starvation.

Thank you for your blessings.
Undeservingly your daughter,
With love,
Renee