Sounds of Hope

It took less than a minute to walk from Barbara's house to mine. I wonder what went through my mind as I did. Being 8 years old, I am sure it can only be described as confusion. Too young to understand shame still I knew something was wrong. I had kissed him on the mouth when I knew better. Yet, I always wanted to be a good wife and mother - girls of the 50's dreamed of those things. Was this what I needed to know to secure my future? My block in Brooklyn was my small town . We had a bad neighborhood, right there on the block. How fitting that I remember being in front of the "tenements" when I told my mother that I had done something bad. I had kissed Mr. Thompsen on the mouth. Feeling better that I had told, my mother I am sure feared there was more to this tale. I don't remember it, but in a rare conversation a few years ago with my mother about Mr. Thompsen, she said she was giving me a bath the next day. It sounds bizarre now but in those days, Saturday n...

There is great risk in what I am doing. It occurred to me that I could be jeopardizing potential jobs in the future. Being old is enough to jeopardize a career, now I add truth, vulnerability and candor to the mix. I am telling you how I got to be that young woman giving birth to her third child while her peers received their degrees. It is frightening to expose myself like this. But I have a story to tell. A story I feel that needs to be told for that one person who needs to know they can pull through by God's grace, mercy and help. The story of your life is not fixed in your past,  it is fixed in today.   It is fixed in getting up today and stepping into your future. I realize whomever it is who reads this story, whether in this blog or a book that may materialize in the future, may think I am foolish. Others may say I am brave. Exposure to the critical eye of another is always both. My motives are not for my own self-promotion, or even self healing. My motives are t...

I don’t remember what I wore that day. I am sure it was a dress of some sort. We still were required to wear dresses in public school in those days. The church was very conservative and pants were never allowed anywhere. When moving to Missouri, we had started at First Assembly. It was the logical choice. We had always been Pentecostal and strict. No make-up, no movies, no card playing, were standards of my upbringing. Even a simple game of “Go Fish” or “War,” played with "devil cards" were unacceptable. I’ve written before about not being able to see Sleeping Beauty . One of the arguments was, even if the movie is okay, would you want to be watching a movie when Jesus came back? Heaven forbid - your rapture readiness would disappear in the twinkling of an eye. This church added no pants, no short sleeves dresses and no mixed bathing (swimming in the presence of the opposite sex). Television was frowned upon with long hair preferred for girls. I guess my parents thought...

It was Easter Sunday, our first Easter in Missouri. We had not gone to the Sunrise Breakfast, an Easter tradition with the church we were attending. The next Easter I would go. I would be married, be a mother whose first child would be dedicated that morning at First Assembly of God in Columbia MO. I had thought moving to Missouri was a great adventure. I had visited with my parents the summer before. My oldest brother was working on a doctoral degree at the University of Missouri. Looking back it now seems odd that we moved. At the time, perhaps I looked at it as the same as so many of our friends moving to Long Island, New Jersey or Staten Island. Brooklyn was experiencing exodus. Replacing the Norwegians were mostly Puerto Ricans; later would come the Chinese. The neighborhood was changing. My father was retired. Being in his 50’s when I was born, retirement came while in Junior High School. They would tell you that the reason for the move was me. I am not sure if that was real...