When I wrote “Choosing Life” I told you a little about how my father ended. Let me tell you how he began. I have a box of momentos that I saved from my childhood. In it there are several pins that my father received from having perfect attendance at his Baptist Sunday School. When I became a Christian (in my twenties), my dad told me that he had “accepted Christ” when he was a boy in Sunday School. My dad…..
The last thing I expected to do was to finish writing “Choosing Life.” I had written the first chapter of a book a few dozen times. Then I would put it away in a file to be forgotten forever. And so it was after I wrote the first chapter of this book. The next day, however, I woke up with an idea. By the end of the day, the second chapter was completed and filed away with the first chapter……
One of my many favorite Bible stories is found in Mark 4:24-39. It’s the story of the Syro-Phoenician woman, a Greek, not a Jewess, who came to Jesus because her daughter was possessed by a demon. She fell at His feet. “First, let the children eat all they want,” He told her, “for it is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.” “Yes, Lord,” she replied, “but even the dogs under the table eat…..
I was recently asked if it was difficult to share such personal, intimate stories from my life when I wrote “Choosing Life.” I’ll try my best to describe a mindset that I probably share with other people who were abused as children. My head is full of stories about me and about my family. But as I child I learned to disconnect from what was going on around me. I developed the ability to block out everything around me so…..
When I wrote “Choosing Life,” I told you a little about my father’s father. Grandpop worked in a rivet factory and, after the war, got my father started in that business. He was an Irishman, and therefore charming, but he was a drunk. Every Friday night he spent his whole paycheck at the local bar. Grandpop also had a short fuse. One time, when another man at the bar made him angry, he knocked him unconcious with a single punch……
Someone who recently read my book “Choosing Life” told me that my story made her angry at my parents. After a moment of enjoying the empathy, I realized what I had to tell her. The dysfunction did not start with my parents. It goes back I don’t know how many generations. Let me tell you about my mother’s mother, Gram. Gram’s mother died when she was in third grade. School was over for her. She was sent to live with her…..
Everyone has someone in their lives, especially in childhood, who tried, and for the most part succeeded, in making our lives miserable. I just had a few more of them, and, perhaps, mine were a bit more colorful. All I know is that whenever I shared my stories with people, they told me that I should write a book. It only took them 71 1/2 years to convince me. Never give up. I survived because I learned to laugh at…..