That day in San Francisco

It was right after the divorce, things were crazy, I was crazy. I was lost and trying like mad to find my footing again. While married to Bill I had not been a regular at church...it was hard for me to listen about forever families and temples when I was married to a man who thought God was like Santa Claus...I knew that there was no hope that I would have what the church wanted me to strive for, and sitting with 4 small children gave me spotty attendance.

When my friend Anne, and her husband wanted to give me the gift of a spiritual healing, I thought...how can anything with the word healing in it hurt. I had to give the kids over to Bill and his lover and those days were not easy for me. So a field trip with Annie, on that dreary day in the fall of 1991 seemed a good distraction.

We drove into a rather ordinary business district in the city. We parked outside the plain office space and Anne explained that this was kind of a religion. That they did healings for people who are stressed or having challenging times. She told me that it may seem foreign to me, but to give it a try. I was alittle apprehensive, but had been working with Pat Munson and felt like I could give it a try...no harm no foul. Most of these things were just silly...

We went in through the bottom floor doors, into a large open space with metal office chairs, mismatched sitting in a large circle in the center of the room. Small groups of people were huddled at the edges of the room. A few people occupied the chairs in the center of the room, they were paired off and appeared to be in private conversations.

A gentleman approached us and told me he would help me...so he proceeded to "heal" me. It was a silly thing...I dont remember anything about that first encounter. I do remember that the man appeared to be frightened, or uncomfortable with me or what he was doing...

He spoke with me for a few minutes...10 or 15, and then I thought we were done. My friend Anne walked with me as we headed towards the door, and she was acting as if the whole thing had been silly...we laughed hard and often together and I thought that the romp had been a good distraction, but not at all meaningful.

We approached the door when another gentleman approached us and stopped us as we were headed to the door. He looked at me and told me I was not healed, and that he wanted to work with me. I was sort of done, not real interested in any further encounter. I looked toward my friend, but it was awkward, this man wanted to help me and turning him down would have been awkward. I did posture that I was fine, but he was insistant.

My memory on the details of the actual ceremony they did are vague...but the outcome is clear as crystal...

I sat at the head of a circle, and he sat accross from me, around me to the right and left the others in the room sat in a circle...it was like a prayer type circle...the people around me were sitting with their eyes down hands in their laps. The man sitting accross from me started to speak with me, he spoke of many things...things that he may have been able to guess about me and my past...he was very insightful about me...then he started to speak of things that seems unlikely that he could have guessed at. I started to grow uncomfortable as he stared in my eyes and spoke to me about the pain and hurt from the past...I remember specifically a comment he made about organized religion and that my relationship with God was close and I did not require a regular church experience with this relationship...that hit me funny...it felt a bit dark, I continued to sit, more out of politeness than desire for more, I wanted to leave, was very uncomfortable...but something sat in my lap and held me to my chair...maybe it was the pressure of not wanting to hurt my friend's feelings, maybe peer pressure, whatever it was, it was heavy enough to hold me there.

The next step of the process was the healing, and there was a chant coming from around the circle...a low sort of sound of voices in unison...blowing roses Annie told me on the way home, this continued, and I dont have a single memory of what he was saying..I know he never touched me, but as the chanting happened I felt this tingling in the palms of my hands...and the sensation grew and grew...it felt like power flying through the palms of my hands...I felt as if I could use the power to lift myself off the floor if I pointed my hands towards the ground...I have never had such a sensation...and I could not deny that it was real, and very powerful, and that this place in a ground level building somewhere in San Francisco was not some silly place, but that some very real power was there....the energy slowly disipated and with it the weight that held me to the chair lifted and I made polite sounds and fled the room, and got in the car. Anne joined me a few minutes later...maybe seconds, I dont know because time was out of focus. I said little on the way home...certainly never told her what had happened in that seat, never told anyone really...til I told you all now...I know that the power there was real, I dont think it is clean, but it was real...I think I was dealing with the occult in the guise of a church...and it was very compelling. I believe I would have been swept that way if it had not been for my knowledge of false christs, and priests that lead the people astray...

The power of Heaven is real...and if that is real, then the power of Hell is real too...and can be very aluring and hypnotic...and does not manifest itself as a monster, but as a dove...

I know that there is a power beyond this earth that influences us...there is a Heaven, there is a Hell...there is a God and a devil and we are here to learn for ourselves what it is we want to have guide us through the eternities...

The red light in the ceiling

Ryan and the birthday mixing bowl

I have had many many birthdays...but I want to tell about one of my favorites:

I remember the year that Ryan bought me a great big mixing bowl...it was the most perfect gift because every Thanksgiving I would have a terrible time making the mashed potatoes. My birthday is in September...that is a big part of the story to me...

Thanksgiving I said to my son Ryan...I hate that I dont have a bowl big enough to make these potatoes and then I went on with my prep work for the big meal...10 months later I was opening my gifts and I opened a big box from Ryan..in it was a shiny metal mixing bowl...very large and capable of managing the potato job for the upcoming Thanksgiving meal...

Everytime i look at that bowl...I am awed and emotional...every time...because my son remembered what I needed and provided it for me...it was a touching and meaningful gift, the physical gift was very nice...but the real gift was that he thought of me, and got me what he knew I needed he remembered me and loved me...

Thank you Ryan...


Lauren, the year of my 39th birthday, gave me a wonderful present too. Well...of course Branden and Jamie gave me an adorable baby boy that day, and Lauren knowing that I was spending my birthday at the hospital...made me my most favorite birthday cake I have ever had...I came home from that long day and there on the counter was a lovely birthday cake...she wanted me to have a special day the way that she felt special when I made her a cake...that was a very special day too.

Lauren and the cleaning surprise

I have worked for many years now, ever since Bill's accident I have done something to bring in money to help the family. It has never been much money, and it has always required the sacrifice of my children, who have rarely complained and have always been most supportive, I am blessed to have children that do not judge, or wimper much...for that I am daily grateful.

Right after the accident I got a job tutoring children after school 2 evenings a week in Orem, my first appointment was right after school and I would work until 9 or so, and Lauren would babysit. She did not want to give up two nights a week, but I wasnt making any money if I paid a sitter, so she did it for me.

One fall night I drove up into the driveway and was staring at a completely dark house...not a glimmer of light shown through the windows, I quickly looked around to see if the power had failed, but the lights were glowing all up and down the street.

I quickly got out of my car and rushed through the front door, worried something may be wrong. Upon opening the door I saw a small candle lit on the coffee table, I called out to the children but there was not a sound. I approached the candle and found a note, I turned on a light to read, and found the room in perfect order...The note directed me to another room, with another candle and another direction...each candle glowed in a room that was neat and tidy, the notes finally led me to my girls room. I opened the door and in the room huddled around the last little candle were my three youngest children...all grins and giggles...

Lauren had not only spent the day watching her brother and sister, she had spent it in hours of service cleaning, and allowing to toddlers to clean with her so they could give me order, which I was missing so badly, as I returned home tired and spent. What a lovely gift.

Thank you Lauren for knowing what I really needed...and digging deeper than you were asked to give it to me.

Sean at the window

I remember the day that Bill left, I remember it with clarity, and I wish that I could do it again...so many things I would change, I would let my kids be together to have each others support. I have no idea what I was thinking when I allowed that to happen, I was in such a daze that I made a terrible mistake. I know that each of my boys made a long and lonely walk up to the house and a longer and lonlier walk back to the Moorings...I want to hold those hands and wrap up their hearts...I am so sorry boys.

After that drama, we returned to the house and Bill loaded up his clothes in grocery bags, and loaded them in the back of his Dodge Colt. He was on his last load, the kids were in the living room watching TV and I went to check on them, and Sean was not with them. I went looking for him worried he was upset.

I found him standing on his bed looking out the window, as I approached I saw that he was watching his Dad load the bags in the back of the car, I stood and watched him, his head craddled in his hands with his elbows up on the window sill...when his daddy finished loading the car and slammed the back hatch on the car down, got in and drove off into the night, he turned to me, with his eyes glistening and said...I guess he did't love us enough, Mom....and he headed to the door, I tried to say something that would comfort him, grabbed him and hug him, but he was done talking to me, he ran down the hall to be with his brothers and sister...

That was it for Sean, he accepted and moved on. He was a great example to me that day, and continues to be a great example to me everyday on acceptance and forgiveness...

Mother's Day in the new House

We moved to St George the last day of April...Rich was working up North and was only able to unload the truck before he had to return to the job and he had no time that entire summer to get home...it was a long summer in a new place not knowing anyone, having left my great friends and support system in Spanish Fork...I want to say here how grateful I am to my good neighbor Nannette Buck for her kindness and welcoming heart that first summer...she made things so much more managable by being an instant friend to me and to my children. Thanks Nannette.

I have many stories of our time here in St George..many stories...I think I am stories...but I want to share the Mother's Day experience with you this time...I am sure many more will flow first...this blog has no rhyme or reason...one day maybe I can put them in order...but for now...writing them down, well that will have to be enough.



Mother's Day...2002





Well...does anyone really love Mother's Day...I love the cards and the kindness my children show me...I love that everyday of the year...I do not like the guilt I usually start to feel because I cannot weave my own fabric from the sheep I raised, sew my own clothes from said fabric, garden for the entire family and can my vast harvest for the winter meals I will make daily out of whole wheat and veggies that still taste like a gourmet chef created them, all this, while working full time and completing my master's degree while single handedly supporting my 12 children all successful students, athletes and spiritual giants in the myriad of activities and projects...So...Mother's Day 2002 was, a mother's day...

I had a goal, to empty all the boxes before I could use my jetted bathtub. The Saturday night into the wee hours of the morning on Sunday I worked on the last of the boxes and finally met my goal for being unpacked completely. The past weeks had been a long list of messes to be cleaned broken things to be repaired and furniture needing assembled. So...Mother's day morning went into mother's day night and evening, the kids were great, but I got no call from my husband, and the talks at church were those of sainted mothers with gosemer wings, and I was surely not her this year, my daughter was terriblly unhappy with having moved, my son Ryan was still up north staying with friends so he could finish his year in school, Branden was living away from home, Sean did his best to cheer me, and I had adorable hugs kisses and presents from Ki Ki and Christian, but it was still a tough day for me, a lonely day, in a new place without the people who had become my family...Gotta admit, I cried, alot.

After everyone was down to bed, I decided to have that bath...I had to scrub it clean to use it, and did, I let the tub fill...it was scalding hot, I remember, and I had to wait for the water to cool. Finally it was a temperature that I could stand, and I went to the just unpacked stereo and searched the channels for some classical music...to relax my body, mind and soul...there was no classical music to be found...I clearly remember slamming the stereo off, and muttering that classical music was a small thing to want on such a sad hard lonely day...I abandoned the idea of music, and dropped my robe and sunk into the hot deep water, the lights were low, candles lit...relaxation the goal...I did feel better, some of the last several weeks tension started to ease from my shoulders, I pushed the jets on and got lost in te hot water....after soaking for several minutes, I was distracted by the sound of bells, the tinkling of bells I kept thinking I heard bells far away, I ignored them for awhile...but my curiousity got the best of me and I turned off the jets with the thought that I would be able to identify the source of the high sweet bell sound. As I shut off the jets, I realized that the entire room was filled with the sounds of mozart...from the stereo was playing the most beautiful music...the stereo I had slammed off, having left the dial on static...

I was alarmed...I grabbed my robe and went to check the doors I was sure I had locked them...they all were securely locked, as I had thought. I started to panic, I illuminated the room, but nobody was there...I quickly went out and asked Sean if he had come in the room or seen anyone...he looked at me like I was nuts and told me no...I went back into my bedroom, I was looking in the closet when the most peaceful feeling came over me...there was nothing to fear, there was nobody there to harm me, whoever was there, from whatever place, that music was a gift, the very gift I had asked for...and even today, I wonder from time to time who gave me the gift, Debbie, my Grandma...Jamie...I know it came from the other side that gift of Mozart that night long ago, a gift I needed to know I was not alone at all, and that some of my dearest friends and supporters were still with me, and were aware of my needs.

Pain from Both Sides of the Isle

I remember the process of a marriage dying. I want my children to know that it wasnt easy, not that it wasnt easy for me...I think that they know that it wasnt easy for me. I want them to know that it wasnt easy for Bill either...It was a nightmare for the whole family...adults and children alike.

I remember waking up one night late, finding myself alone in bed, this was not uncommon at this point. I got up to see if I was alone in the house, or if Bill was still in the house. I came down the hall...I heard him in the living room...this was a man that had put me through hell in the past months, but as I entered the room, Saw him staring out the window crying...sobbing, for that moment I had compassion. I did not understand what was going on, or why he was choosing what he was choosing, but I could see that it was tearing him up to choose it. I remember crying with him that night...not because of him.

The marriage ended, and I was hurt. I was angry and I had a hard time forgiving...have a hard time forgiving...but that night and that moment we hurt together and I knew he did not want to harm me, he did not want to harm his children, he felt he had no choice. I do not say that he had none...but I would be a liar if I said I didnt know that night that he believed he had none.

I wish that I could have made that pain better...wish I could have errased some of what it did to all of us that terrible hard choice...the failed test. I wish I could say I had no bitter feelings towards him for not taking the other path...but I want Branden, Sean, Ryan and Lauren to know that their dad....he didnt want to hurt anyone...and although they were desperately hurt by his choice...and for that matter by mine in choosing him....they have always been loved and nobody wanted then in the aftermath of that marital death. Love to my children....and my apologies for my part in what they all endured. I want them to know that their dad, that night told me of his plan to harm himself so that he could get out of the trap he was in, and to leave them without them knowing he felt he had to. He had thought out how to financially support them from his grave, that he wanted always to take care of them...that his love came in the dedication he had to their physical needs, and that when that ended...it was not at his hand...he would have supported them forever. I know that. I know that he found out about his AIDS diagnosis days before his accident, and that he ended his relationship with Gene...he allowed him to stay in the house, but told me that his center was his children and Gene did not support him in that. I want Sean to know that he missed that call on your 16th birthday because he was racked with who knows what demons...you were so young, Christian is that age now...when your youngest is an age, you realize how tender that age really is...so sorry Sean if I did not see you as the child you still were...He loved you..I love you.....

I wonder about that accident years ago...wonder if those dark thoughts from years before returned and he saw the solution to the pain he was in and the pain that his choices may cause could all be solved by a "on the job" accident...if that was what happened that fated morning...it was clearly the wrong choice, but also was a bad loving choice. I know when we visited him in the hospital he apologized over and over and over again that he was not able to take care of his children...it haunted him.

I want you to know that the pain of a bad decision hurts all it touches...within and without, and I believe that although you all suffered, and that I suffered, the one that suffered the most was your dad...He lost magical time, firsts and lasts with his children...he lost all that was precious in life...I cant imagine that pain...we had each other and he was alone in a tragic place far from the light.

I want you to know that I am proud of you for moving on strong and wise. I want you to know your ability to be whole and have relationships with him each in your own way makes me so very proud of you...I support you in everything you do that is good...and right. I know forbiveness and love are always right...

Much Love

Mom

The Suitcase

It was the first Christmas after my husband had left me for a man, and a foriegn lifestyle. Just a few months into the new challenges that single motherhood brought, both physically and financially. I was tired and frightened still trying to get my footing in my new role. I had very little money, and spent most days worried about how I would take care of the four small children that were my lone responsibility now. I pinched pennies and saved to make sure I would have what the kids needed. I so wanted their Christmas to be grand, at least as grand as it had been in years past, and I wanted it to be happy and as normal as possible. I decided to go and spend the holiday with my parents and siblings. This allowed for my husband to be at his mother's, just a few miles from my family, and the children could enjoy both homes, and that would give them the best chance for a normal Christmas, normal was such a prize to all of us at that time. The selfish part of me wanted to lick my wounds and punish him...keep him from the kids...the better part of me wanted the children to have their family...I determined to make it work...make myself make it work.

I put aside gas money little by litte, and purchased my children's presents, their dad helped with the cost of gifts, and that was a huge help, but he had little money too...living in two households instead of one was stretching his income to its limit. He was always good to me in financial issues with regard to the children, but this was at the beginning when I had no idea what I could expect from him. He wanted me to trust him, and he had just left me for a man and a lifestyle that he had hidden from me for many years, I wanted to trust...but it was hard to find. I had a wall up around my heart and my soul...and the only entity I had invited into my madness, was God...I had, in desperation gone to me knees and asked for relief, and in God I had found the strength to get through the days that led us to Christmas.

The days marched on and departure day arrived. The children were a blur of activity and I was packing up the Colt wagon, a small car that seated my children with little room to spare...a mini mini van. I packed as much as I could in the car and still had no room for the luggage. I had to strap a large suitcase to the top of the car...it was all the nicest clothes we had, smashed tightly in the big brown case, I got everything in that one so we would have less to take. I had never attached luggage to the top of a car before, but gave it my best effort. It appeared secure as I pulled out of my driveway and made my way to the freeway and the 6 hour journey to my parents home in Southern California.

We made our way south, through Gilroy with the sting of garlic in our noses and then on to highway 5 a long stretch of nothing We had been traveling for several hours and the singing and playing and ruccas in the car had given way to sleep, or drawing as we continued on our way. We were on a lonely stretch of road, no businesses or exits. The sun was setting in the west, relative peace...and then, I saw in the rear view mirror our suitcase tumbling down the road corner on corner...I saw it rolling back from us...I pulled over just as quickly as possible when you are traveling 70 miles an hour...but I knew that the suitcase, if it survived the roll would be a good ways back, and I didnt want to leave my children alone at the side of the road alone, Branden was then only nine and Lauren was just a toddler of 3. I dont remember if I prayed when I opened the car door and stepped out, I walked back down the road as far as I could go with the car still in site...I saw no sign of the missing case. No sign of what represented most all the clothing for my entire little family...it was gone. I figured it must have rolled down the embankment and was not visible to me anymore. I was crestfallen. With a heavy heart, and deep concern for how I would ever be able to replace what was lost I turned back to my children, knowing I could not search any further without putting them at risk. I walked back up to my car this time I walked up to the passenger's side of the car, as I had gotten out I had been on the driver's side exiting. Now, as I approached the rear side of the car...there sitting as if it had been placed there by a well meaning stranger was our suitcase...how was that possible...my eye darted in all directions...no car pulling out, no sign of life...had someone been there, I would have seen them, heard their car. How did that suitcase get there...it was marred and banged up, but was still closed and intact, sitting there on the side of the car. My eyes could not take in that suitcase...it was completely impossible for it to be there...I had seen it tumble down the road behind me...saw it, that was how I had known to stop...but there it was sitting by my car. I sobbed with gratitude...and smashed that case down the center of the front seat and rested against that magic bag the rest of the journey home to my parents....

Nearly 20 years later I still can not believe that the suitcase sat there neatly by the rear tire...my angel knowing I could take no more retrieved it for me...no other explanation. I do not share the story with many..not sure I have shared it at all, actually. I dont want someone to tell me how that didnt happen, how the airflow must have forced it down next to the car, I know it didnt...I know i saw that bag tumble off the car...and off in the distance and down to the left...I followed it with my eye as I pulled over...I know where it went. I know that nobody was where it went when i went to find it either...I know this, I was there.

I know that God parted the Red Sea to free the Jews..that Moses a prophet was able to do that...everybody knows that...what I did not know...until that day, and what I sadly forget from time to time..I know that God can create miracles in our lives too...little partings of the sea...with as much meaning in an individual life as that sea meant to that whole people...I know that God loved and knew about little me that day...little single mom on a long journey home, embattled and scared with little...he knew my heart, he knew where I was in those moments on the side of the road...and he brought to me the material thing that I needed to know that I woudl be safe and clothed in his love...that it would be ok...that I had nothing to fear.

An Angel on my Shoulder

Years ago I was living in Upstate New York, my parents bought a farm and it was several miles out of town. We had moved from Nazareth, Pennsylvania that summer and I had gone from a child to a young woman in the few months I had lived in this new place. I was going to be a sophmore in high school...had spent the summer picking peas for local farmers and had some money to buy a pair of pants...I had no clothes...the clothes budget was very tight and I was teased terribly for the continued repeat of my clothing...I was desperate to get to town to buy something to wear to put me out of my misery...the teasing was intense and my need to fit in, in this new community matched that intensity.

My mother had a brand new baby, and a toddler that were always either napping or needing so the chances of a ride to town were impossible...I asked anyway...I could walk...that was as good as it was going to get, ..so I made my way down the long highway to town.

It was quite a hike, maybe 6 miles, but I arrived in town safe and sound and made my way to the store and bought a pair of white painters pants...A real score...worth the long hot walk along the edge of the road...but now I had to make my way back...I headed home...weary from the heat and the length of the walk I was wearing out fast...One foot in front of the other...

I had made it well over half way home when a car pulled up...I man, maybe my father's age was smiliing and asked me if I needed a ride...I knew the answer was supposed to be no...he was a stranger, and you dont get in cars with them. I had just blossomed and had all this attention and power that come with curves that I did not fully comprhend, and he was old enough to be my dad...he was not going to hurt me...So weighing the risk factor to the exhaustion I felt I decided it would be ok...I climbed in the gold 4 door sedan and the door latched, the air conditioning blew on my face and my tired legs were grateful to stop. the cart slid away from the shoulder. We
proceded up the road he asked me questions about where I went to school and how old I was...dad type questions...then the energy shifted, he started telling me how pretty I was...that didnt seem too dad like, he was looking at me in a way that made the hair on the back of my neck rise and my warning light was flashing in my mind...DANGER DANGER I had to not let him know I was scared or he would hurt me sooner...I knew that, instinct told me to play along and be an innocent. He told me again and again how beautiful I was and how I should be a model. He wanted to take some pictures of me, I played dumb...he pulled off the highway, through shrubs and trees and into a fallow field, the car was no longer visible from the road and I knew I was in deep trouble...still I was able to remain calm...God was with me...and when the man spoke to me for a final time about pictures, my eye fell on a farmer on a tractor several 100 yards from where we were parked...an angel whispered in my ear and I said "Maybe my dad would like to be in the pictures too" I then pointed to the stranger working on the tractor, the man in the gold sedan reached over me and opened my door and shoved me out hard onto the ground and threw his car into reverse and tore back out through the underbrush and on to the highway beyond...I stood up and ran the last few miles to my parents home through the fields, getting scratched and bruised as I made my way to safety. I arrived home and my grandma, who was visiting lectured me on being a mess, .never had a lecture been so welcomed...I was safe...I did not say anything to my parents. I knew that they would punish me, and that perhaps never let me go to the store again. I kept the fear and the danger to myself...but I tell you now that man was going to hurt me and the angel that told me to say dad..knew that would send fear through his heart and that single sentence saved me...I know angels are there for our protection, even if we may make a bad choice. I am grateful that I was able to listen, and was loved enough that day, that my life, and virtue were spared.