tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60615218199976328702024-03-12T22:21:36.307-06:00Kate's RamblingsKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14137528987627947267noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061521819997632870.post-74521524286937027592012-02-11T08:12:00.008-07:002012-02-11T10:20:46.167-07:00Significance and PersepectiveI will start off by saying, I'm not doing well today. If you are expecting something happy, this isn't it. I'm angry, and that may very well be an understatement. I'm angry because a very 'insignificant' event has effected my life for 20 years now. It dawned on me yesterday that the event I remember so clearly is more than likely not remembered at all by the ones' that caused it. I doubt they remember the event or each other.<br /><br />Twenty years ago, I was a junior in high school. It was the last week of school. A friend wanted to go see the buses let people off and see if a certain boy had arrived yet. (I do remember names, but I'm not going to give them - not important or the point.) Gotta love high school crushes! It wasn't the 'best' place to be as it was where the 'questionable' kids hung out. Well, two of them decided to fight in an incredibly small area with maybe 50 kids all trying to get out of the way. They fought and fell on my leg. In this 'insignificant' event, my life was effected and affected significantly. They tore the ligaments and tendons in my foot. When asked later what the fight was about, the reply was "he looked at me, so I hit him."<br /><br />In the 20 years since, I've had close to 100 shots in my foot/ankle, a surgery, casts, learning to walk again and facing another surgery to repair the damage done that day. I'm angry! I dread the surgery as the first one hurt like hell! This one will be even more painful as they will be taking a graft from my leg for a usable tendon for my ankle. The current one is so destroyed, it is unusable. Lovely! I am not looking forward to this!<br /><br />But I am hoping this time, it fixes my foot. I'd love to finally be pain free. But I'm also hoping and praying that I can forget the 'insignificant' event and the players in it. I know I have to let go of the anger. This is why I'm writing this. I know the more we keep things in, the worse it can build up that anger. I write this as a release and to ask for the prayers of my friends and family. Please pray for me, for surgery, for healing - physically, emotionally and spiritually. I have forgiven the two guys, but I am remembering the verses and song that talks about 70x7. It is a process. Thankfully God doesn't give up on us and He continues the process in us of making us more like Him. I'm a LONG ways off from that!! <br /><br />I hoped this would help me with my thoughts and feelings, and it has! I feel a little less angry and not as close to tears.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14137528987627947267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061521819997632870.post-54704122281274302632010-11-03T16:27:00.005-06:002010-11-03T18:21:55.213-06:00Roots and WingsI just recently went back home to Texas for a visit with my family. It wasn't a planned trip, but it was a great one. I woke up one Sunday morning and realized I <em><strong>needed</strong></em> to go home, so I packed up the kids and we set off for Texas. (Thankfully, I have a husband who is understanding and supportive of my whims. Love you, Babe!) So I got the car loaded with luggage and toys and diapers and....so on. Then I loaded the most precious cargo, my babies - a 2 1/2 year old and a 5 month old. (Proof that I was desperate to go.) The trip went great and I have to say I have amazing children. They traveled like troopers. No screaming. Naps were taken. It was great! Truly!<br /><br />Now I know some of this is going to sound really funny and way out there, because it is. I just don't know of any other w<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">ay</span> to describe what I feel. So keep that in mind - I don't really "believe" the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">weird</span> part of the following.<br /><br />I have always loved <em>Gone With The Wind</em>! It is one of the best all time books and movies made (in my opinion). Anyway, I love the scene where Rhett and Scarlett are walking around Tara after the war and he realizes how much the land and the place of her childhood means to her, not only emotionally but mentally and physically. "You get your strength from this red earth of Tara, Scarlett." And she always went home when life got tough. At the end when Rhett leaves, she is unsure what to do, but remembers her home. "I know. I'll go home to Tara." And she can figure stuff out. I guess. The author ended the book. (and the book <em>Scarlett</em> is <em><strong>not</strong></em> an ending.)<br /><br />Anyway, as we got further into to Texas, I could feel myself mentally and physically sigh. And then it was as if the land sighed too. I know <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">weird</span>. I told ya it would be. Now, I don't believe the land literally sighed, but I just felt at such peace to be home. It was wonderful. I met my dad at the half way point that night and was welcomed home. It was great! I understood Scarlett's feelings for home. My strength was in going home to Texas.<br /><br />We ended up spending about a week and a half with my folks. I got to see my best friend from high school, my sister, brother-in-law, kids and my cousin and his family. Again, it was wonderful! I miss being around family sometimes. It was a restful time for me and I think the kids. They had a great time with their Granny and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Pawpaw</span>, and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Suga</span>, my mom's toy poodle whose real name is Sugar but isn't pronounced that way by a certain 2 yr old. And yes, it is said with a wonderful Southern drawl. Love it!!<br /><br />But it was finally time to come back home to Colorado. As I started driving, I began to realize that my parents gave me a great gift. They gave me <strong><em>roots</em></strong> and they gave me <em><strong>wings</strong></em>! They gave me a home that is truly wherever they are. They gave me a place to go back to when this life is too much. They gave me ....... Tara. And I began to pray that for my children, "God, help me to give my children roots but also to give them wings!" It is my roots that take me home to Texas, but it is my wings that bring me back home to Colorado. I love the adventures I've had in first leaving <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">Riesel</span> for Dallas, then to Denver, then to Pennsylvania and then back to Denver. I've gotten to fly and highly recommend it.<br /><br />I might not want my children to "fly" away one day, but I hope they do and I pray that I've created a place for them to come home, sigh and feel that peace.... a Tara.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14137528987627947267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061521819997632870.post-22415382893653277082010-09-12T19:06:00.004-06:002010-09-12T19:27:35.240-06:00Music and Memories (from Christmas 2009)Lately, I have been listening to two songs again and again, “Seven Spanish Angels” by Willie Nelson and Ray Charles and “The Highwayman” by Waylon, Willie and The Boys. The nostalgia overwhelms me with names, faces and sounds. The sound of steel guitars crying in the background makes me smile as I am flooded with memories of long ago, of faces that are gone now, and flashes of scenes playing like a broken movie.<br /><br />I remember listening to now classics or ‘oldies’ on a Reel to Reel player at Nanny and Granddaddy’s. I don’t remember all the songs or singers, and I’m not sure that is the point. Instead, the flashes are of building card houses in the carpet, learning how to build London Bridge out of dominoes, and many games of Solitaire where the goal was to “beat the man.” (By the way ~ I never have learned who the man was.) But somewhere in the midst of all of this is the music.<br /><br />For this particular music, there are two people who stand out playing a role in my appreciation of these classics, Nanny and my sister, Deanna. I was introduced to not only Waylon, Willie and The Boys, but also The Gambler or Kenny Rogers, Tammy Wynette, Dolly Parton, Jim Reeves, Marty Robbins and many others. While these singers are probably met with varying degrees of appreciation, they have made their way into my life and now make me smile.<br /><br />My sister and I used to share a room and while not all memories are pleasant (like getting pinched in the middle of the night ~ hey, I’m a cuddler!), there are some that will always be special. I am not sure she ever really wanted to, but she used to read to me the short stories from Reader’s Digest and if music was playing, she was singing, especially if it was a ballad. I have many memories of her crying and singing. Remember, Sis, the ballad of Teddy and the truckers?<br /><br />For my Nanny, I remember a different form and time. The memories maybe fuzzy, but I remember names of Aunt Clara, Aunt Leona, Cat & Pawpaw, Aunt Ruby, Uncle Aaron and Aunt Elsie, and others. I remember the sound of hymns of old, like How Great Thou Art, being sung around a piano or acapella. I am amazed at how as a child I might not have understood or appreciated all going on around me, but as an adult a song can transport me back and make my eyes sting with tears, my lips smile and my voice sing out to the same tunes.<br /><br />I am not sure what makes me so nostalgic now. Maybe it is just the music, the holidays, being pregnant and hormonal, or being a mom myself. But I share this and some music with my Nanny and sister in hopes of making them smile and remember their own sweet memories, but also to say Thank You. Thank you for playing a role in my appreciation of various types of music and more importantly my memories.<br /><br />As I listen to “The Highwayman” and think of these things, my own Little One has brought me her music. It is of a little dog on a sled singing, rather loudly, “Sleigh Ride with You.” She plays it over my song and my memories fade into the background once more, but a new memory is forming for me and for her as we sing and dance to her ‘music.’ It is a moment I treasure and my prayers and hopes for her is that she too will have memories to look back on that are filled with music, laughter and even tears.<br /><br />Merry Christmas! Enjoy the music and trip down memory lane. I may not be there with you, but then again we are together in the memories. I love you much.<br /><br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/kAsGWhWkx-Q?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/kAsGWhWkx-Q?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14137528987627947267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061521819997632870.post-78249990692721655772010-09-12T15:31:00.002-06:002010-09-12T15:39:21.113-06:00Updated RamblingWell, it's been a LONG while since I last wrote on here. In my defense I've been a little busy. We have added a wonderful Little Man to our family, who is 4 months old now. He is such a joy and a happy baby. We are blessed!<br /><br />I have been off work for a year now, and I'm back to looking for work. It is not a good market out there. Makes it hard not to look backwards and wonder, "did I do the right thing?" But I have a beautiful, healthy son...so, yes, I did the right thing.<br /><br />My kids are finally asleep, so I have just a moment to write. Lots of thoughts these days, but not many put to paper or computer. So I have some writtings I've done that I'll post. <br /><br />One of my favorites is a letter I wrote to my sister and Nanny about music and memories. It was their Christmas present from me last year. I just love the feelings I get when I re-read it or listen to the cd I made for them.<br /><br />Well, there are my ramblings for now. I'll write more later.<br /><br />If you're still reading, check back. Something will show up.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14137528987627947267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061521819997632870.post-65585980571707579362009-06-29T16:14:00.008-06:002009-07-24T09:25:07.833-06:00Life is a Rollar CoasterThis is a scene from Parenthood. I like it.<br /><br />SM - I was still high from the Little League game. Isn't it demented that a grown man's happiness is dependent on whether or not a 9 yr old catches a pop up? What if he missed?<br /><br />MS - But he didn't.<br /><br />SM - He could have.<br /><br />MS - But he didn't.<br /><br />SM - But he could have.<br /><br />MS - But he didn't, Gill. You threw him 12 million pop ups in the backyard. You cut the odds considerably.<br /><br />SM - There's 3 of them and you want to have a fourth. The 4th one could be Larry and they're gonna do alot of things. Baseball is the least of them. In all those things, sometimes they're gonna miss.<br /><br />MS - Sometimes they won't.<br /><br />SM - Sometimes they will. Sometimes they will.<br /><br />MS - Well, what do you want me to give you? Guarantees? These are kids not appliances. Life is messy.<br /><br />SM - I hate messy. It's so...messy.<br /><br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8fXlKfLNea8&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8fXlKfLNea8&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14137528987627947267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061521819997632870.post-63549621657442681682009-06-29T15:40:00.003-06:002009-06-29T15:47:48.080-06:00IdentityThis has been on my mind lately, so I figure this is the best way to get it off.<br /><br />“<em>Identity is defined as the condition of being oneself, and not another</em>.” (taken from the web somewhere) So basically being one thing and not something else, i.e. a rabbit is a rabbit and not a dog. Complicated, I know.<br /><br />So why am I thinking about rabbits and dogs? I’m not really. But I am thinking about my own identity. Who/what do I identify with? I’ve been asking myself this question a lot lately as I’m beginning a new journey and leaving another behind. My new journey is going to be a Stay at Home Mom/Wife (SAHM/W). I’m looking forward to it with great anticipation, excitement, longing and fear and trepidation. What am I going to do with a 1 year old all day, every day? How will I keep from wanting to burn my house down b/c I’m sick of looking at it? (Now I’m sure Mike is in fear and trepidation.) How will I teach her all she needs to know for this life? How will I not get up and get dressed for work? How will I get things done? How will I . . .? I dunno. But I’m going to try.<br /><br />The journey I’m leaving behind is being a Victim Advocate. I enjoy my job and have taken great pride in it. However, I have to be honest about something. I’m embarrassed to admit, but I might actually be a little bit of a Badge Bunny. If you are unfamiliar with this term, it is used with certain types of females (we all know them) who volunteer or work for police departments to chase the badge or be in the know. They aren’t really there for any other reason except to get a date, flirt or get the scoop. Yes, I’m married to a cop but I didn’t really chase the badge to get my job (now I just get to chase it for fun), so that leaves being in the know. At times it’s nice knowing more than the public and realizing how little people truly know about or want to know human nature in its raw, depraved form. It’s really fun knowing more than the media puts out there and seeing how quickly people eat it up and believe it. Trust me, the media doesn’t know jack or ever report things as they really are, but that’s another soapbox. Well, maybe the term doesn't apply to me b/c it definitely isn't the reason I do this job, but it is a perk.<br /><br />Anyway, I worry that when I am no longer a VA what will I be. When I’m no longer helping victims of crime, what will I be? When I’m no longer using my psychological skills on cases and studying human behavior, what will I be? When I’m no longer in the know, what will I do? Am I going to lose my mind, and not in the haha funny way? More in the I paid a lot of money and still am to become brain dead. This is why identity has been on my mind. This is another reason why I think it is good that I walk away – to find the answer.<br /><br />(If you are a SAHM, please do not think that I think you are brain dead. Please do not take my comments personal. They are not meant towards anyone but me. This is about my insanity.)<br /><br />I pause here b/c I know it is possible to think such things as isn’t her identity in Christ Jesus and when did she lose that or she’s on a slippery trail. Well, yes, I didn’t lose it and I don’t think so. Yes, my <strong><em><u>I</u></em></strong>dentity is in Christ in that I am His child and He is my God, Savior and Life. In addition, He also made me with gifts and talents and I believe one of those has been helping people in the capacity that I have been. So actually no, I’m not questioning this side of who I am. Maybe they can’t be separated or shouldn’t be, but has anyone mastered that this side of heaven? If so, please let the rest of us in on it. This type of <em><strong><u>I</u></strong></em>dentity search is when everything is stripped away and nothing is left, then who am I? On that kind of search/question, you bet my <em><strong><u>I</u></strong></em>dentity is in Christ and it stands on its own. But I’m not questioning my <em><strong><u>I</u></strong></em>dentity but my identity. Follow?<br /><br />So back to my question of identity. If I’m not a VA, then what am I? If you can’t tell, I don’t have an answer. I know I can answer, “well, I’m a mom, a wife and friend.” Yes, I am and that is part of my identity but I’m taking a big piece of it away and it’s that piece that I wonder what it will look like empty. How will I cope with that void? Will I even need to cope? Maybe not. Ever since we made the decision to leave, my stress level has lowered to levels I didn’t know existed. It’s been nice. I know there is an end to the stress, inconsistent schedule, on call, long days, not seeing my husband except for just an hour or two and so on. I look forward to this, but I also know me. I know that as much as I look forward to this new journey, I don’t look forward to the loss of the other. Of course, I don’t do well with loss, so maybe that is another aspect of this. Who knows?!<br /><br />Well, like I said I don’t have an answer. This is truly a rambling put on paper b/c it is hurting my head rattling around every so often. I guess my answer will come August 21st or shortly there after as that is my last ‘official’ day. See, I say official because I volunteered to come back and help out a couple of weeks in September. There you have it, my neurosis.<br /><br />The journey continues….Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14137528987627947267noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061521819997632870.post-72356857349322406572009-05-19T08:43:00.003-06:002009-05-19T09:02:25.031-06:00Priorities<div align="justify">It is funny how the substances of that word changes over time. One moment coffee every morning is a priority and then fresh squeezed juice is the priority. This really isn’t one for me. Coffee is pretty darn important. But it could change.<br /><br />I write about this because in my life in the last year or so, my priorities have shifted once again. Sleep used to be a priority and now I’m just grateful for what I get. Education was once a priority (one I didn’t care for but knew I had to have to make it through) and then I graduated. Now paying back my student loans is a priority.<br /><br />But the biggest shift and most surprising (for me anyway) is family life and my job. I love my family and I love my job. My job allows me to reach more people than I ever could imagine. It allows me to help when there is pain or needs to be met. It allows me to see God work in dark and ugly situations that seem completely out of control and out of God’s care. But we are never out of His care and love. It just sometimes hurts like hell. My job allows me to get over myself. One of the core principles we are taught and teach to new advocates is to not be judgmental. I meet people that are not like me. I meet people that smell in really bad unimaginable ways. I meet people that are difficult to like. I meet people that make you want to hit them really hard until some common sense enters their head. I meet people that are nice. I meet people whose lives took a hard hit and they are doing everything to recover but can’t seem to get ahead. I meet people who are affluent. I could go on but I think you get my point. I get to meet all kinds of people and I love it. It is challenging to me. It pulls me out of my comfort zone and usually puts me in a very uncomfortable one. I still love it. I love being able to help people. I love the fight for justice – <em><strong>with</strong></em> those who can fight and <em><strong>for</strong></em> those who can’t.<br /><br />Recently, our office was hit with a difficult situation, an employee that wasn’t a good or appropriate fit for victim services. But in a discussion with a co-worker I was asked why I disapprove of this employee. My answer was something along the lines of there was no passion for the job or victims. This job takes a lot of passion for what you are doing – without it, you cannot do it. I felt (and with good reason) the employee chose this job for a pay check. I will admit where I work, we make good money. We are lucky in that area. But the response from my co-worker was, “we all do it for a pay check.” I thought and answered, “no, I don’t.” I don’t do my job for a pay check. The money is just a nice extra, and yes, it helps and I work hard for it (ok, sometimes). But I don’t do this for the money. I do this because I have passion for people and for justice.<br /><br />Until recently…that is. I am once again seeing my priorities shift. I love my family. I have a beautiful daughter that is everything to me and her father. She is so much fun to watch life happen through her eyes. I love watching her face light up as I enter a room or when her daddy gets home. The smile from a child will melt any heart and the laughter of a child can brighten the darkest of days. I’ve never seen a child under, I’ll say, age 4 laugh and not get an adult, teen, whoever to not at the very least smile if not laugh also. It is a drug, an intoxication that cannot be bought on the street or stores. There is nothing like it in all the world. Maybe that is what heaven is like – the laughter of a child. I want to see her discover life, her world around her, the backyard, the front yard, the play ground, bugs, the ocean, and so on. I don’t want to miss a moment, and yet moments are passing me by.<br /><br />I love my husband. I even like my husband. I say that because I think liking is just as important as loving. If you don’t like someone, you probably don’t love them either. I love spending time with him. He makes me laugh. He spoils me silly. He is a good man. We may not always see eye to eye or have certain topics in common, but we still make it work, by the grace of God. He rubs my feet almost every day!! Can I tell you how wonderful and amazing that is to find in a man??? He started this with my pregnancy to help keep the swelling down in my feet and ankles and I thought it would stop after she was born. NOPE! Aren’t I the lucky one?<br /><br />I’m sure there are some who would read that and say, “Lucky? Are you crazy? So he rubs your feet. He doesn’t believe in God or has turned his back on God. That isn’t lucky.” Well, maybe that isn’t lucky, but you see I don’t believe that God has abandoned my husband or our marriage. It is by the grace of God that our marriage is what it is. It is by His strength that we make it day to day, just as it is for both believing spouses. God loves me and God loves my husband, very much. So yes, aren’t I the lucky one!<br /><br />But our family life is really hard right now. I work 9 hour days so I can have every other Wednesday off in order to have a day off with my husband. He works the grave yard shift and weekends. He is law enforcement and he puts his life on the line when he puts on his uniform. He goes to work usually on Friday nights and ends his work week on Tuesday mornings. My Little One goes to daycare for almost 10 hrs a day, except for Wednesdays and that is to give time for her and her dad. But when she gets home in the evenings, we have about 2 hrs to get her fed, bathed, play a little, give a bottle and put to bed by her bed time. Two hrs a day!<br /><br />I began to look at our schedule one day and take account for the quality of life and it came up short. I love my job but I love, value and miss my family. What this all means, time will tell, but my priorities have shifted once again. It may mean new challenges, new sacrifices or whatever I can’t even see yet. But I say bring it on. By the grace of God, we can do whatever is needed. I’ve gotten the privilege of seeing God act in the lives of people over the last 4 yrs, so I know that He still acts. He meets people where they are and He will meet us. I have faith.<br /><br />How are your priorities? What drives you? A shift in priorities maybe just what is needed or the day may sneak up on you when they changed and you didn’t even know it. I like those days. It makes me smile to realize I can still be surprised, even by myself. </div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14137528987627947267noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061521819997632870.post-28582056890176975282009-04-10T08:30:00.001-06:002009-04-10T16:20:23.524-06:00Trust<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:arial;">This is a loaded word. It means different things or at least changes in degree depending on the situation. My baby trusts that I will catch her when I throw her in the air. Trust that the brakes on my car will work b/c the mechanic checked them and said they would. So trust that the mechanic told the truth. Trusted confidence of a friend, co-worker, pastor/priest, counselor, etc. Trust that Christ was/is/will be all He said. Now I know this one hits ‘faith’ but it is still trust that what you’ve put your Trust in is True. Trust in a spouse as you say I do. Trust in family and that family is safe.<br /><br />But what happens to Trust when it is broken? I guess again this answer changes in degree depending on the situation. If I drop my baby, she might not let me toss her in the air again by hanging on for dear life, but we still have relationship. If a counselor breaks confidentiality, the relationship is severed. If a spouse breaks the trust of the marriage, several possibilities can occur; heartbreak (a given), separation, and divorce at the worst, but at best also reconciliation. If trust is broken by family members, again it can depend. A relationship may be severed, broken, or again eventually reconciled.<br /><br />But what happens? These are possible outcomes but what happens to the person whose trust was broken. The outcomes are visible to the world and can be seen by anyone. What about the unseen? What about the doubt, confusion, betrayal, pain, and so on? How do you trust again?<br /><br />I hear this question daily in many forms, whether spoken or unspoken. <em>“How do I trust the world again after being assaulted”? “How do I trust him/her again after betraying our vows by abusing me?” “How do I trust men again after rape?” “How do I trust my family again after daddy/mommy touched me?” “How do I trust God after this has happened to my loved one?” </em><br /><br />I don’t know. Yes, there is my answer. I know, it’s deep. However, I think it is a different process for everyone. Some are able to trust again – maybe too quickly. Some are not able to ever trust again – truly tragic. Granted those are the extreme ends of the pendulum swing. But I think it really happens somewhere in the middle and with each new situation and person. I also think it is the beloved saying, <em>“One day at a time.”</em> Most of the time I really hate little sayings like this, but there is great Truth in this one.<br /><br />As most of us have had our trust broken, whether by a friend or more like the ways I mentioned above, we have learned how to deal – either in a healthy way or not. I was recently asked by a father whose young son was victimized, <em>"how do I trust God again after this? How could He allow this to happen?"</em> The mother wanted to know, <em>"how do I trust the world again and not gather my children up, keep them home safe with me?"</em> I don’t know.<br /><br />But it got me to thinking, how do I trust people and the world around me again and again? I didn’t dig my hole, well, ok, but I didn’t stay there. So I dug my hole and I like returning on occasion. I made a nice place. But it’s not a place one can live – and have life abundantly. I’m not a trusting person. In fact, I will go as far to say I don’t really trust anyone to the fullest. (Hopefully, this statement does not hurt anyone as it isn’t meant to. On the other hand, if you know me, then this shouldn’t be a surprise either.) Yet, I have relationships. I’m married and I would say happily. I have friends, siblings, parents, in laws, co-workers and so on. I think they are all good relationships, but I don’t trust. So what is my point in all of this? Uhh, good question.<br /><br />As this dad was asking me his questions, it reminded me of the book, <em>The Shack</em>. I’m reminded of the scene where Mac, the dad, is angry that God/Papa allowed the murder of his young daughter. And the response is one we know, but is either forgotten in times of trauma/grief or is unacceptable. The answer is Papa didn’t allow the murder. We know He didn’t prevent it, so what did He do? He gave us Freewill long ago in a garden and with that came pain – for both sides.<br /><br />Freewill – a powerful word. I think we are ok with freewill for ourselves, but not always for other people. I know I want to always have freewill and make decisions, but I can’t honestly say that I’m glad other people have it too. Am I glad that my husband has the freewill to choose to believe or deny there is a God? Not if I’m honest. Am I glad that one day my beautiful child that I love may look at me and say horrible things in anger? Can’t say I look forward to that. Am I glad that those who have broken my trust had the power/freewill to hurt me? No, I’m not. Am I ok that the victims that I work with have been hurt at the hands of another b/c of freewill? No, I’m not.<br /><br />So basically, I want to be a dictator. Ok, not really, but in essence isn’t that what I’m saying – Freewill - good for me, bad for you? Because of this ‘gift’, I will be hurt, betrayed and broken, but so will you – and maybe unfortunately by me.<br /><br />However (I like this word), there is a flip side to this. The flip side is I do have it too. Well, duh, didn’t I just say that? See, I also have the freewill to forgive, and therefore, trust, love, move forward again and again… What I have learned is that I cannot do this on my own and to try would be futile. What did Papa do with Mac and the situation of his murdered child? He helped Mac forgive. He gave Mac the strength to use his freewill to choose to forgive. He took Mac’s burden off his shoulders and on to His Own.<br /><br />He took my anger, pain, feelings of betrayal, disappointment (even in Him) and made it His own. He took it so I don’t have to carry it. Just as He will take it from this father whose son has been victimized by another, … when he lets Him (there it is – that freewill).<br /><br />I don’t know how you trust again. I know it leaves a lasting scar when it’s broken, but I also know (1st hand) that wounds heal. No, the area that was wounded never looks the same again, but it does heal and looks different. Personally, I like scars. They tell a story. They show life being lived - abundantly.<br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;"><em></em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;"><em>One day at a time sweet Jesus<br />That's all I'm asking from you.<br />Just give me the strength<br />To do everyday what I have to do.<br />Yesterday's gone sweet Jesus<br />And tomorrow may never be mine.<br />Lord help me today, show me the way<br />One day at a time.<br /></div></em></span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14137528987627947267noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061521819997632870.post-9779528070872270162008-12-31T11:29:00.000-07:002008-12-31T11:40:01.303-07:00The Risk of Caring<div align="justify">In my job I face many challenges. We deal with people who don’t like us and all their problems are our (law enforcements) fault, people who yell, curse, cry, weep, smoke, spit, smell, are intoxicated and/or high, and so on. We also deal with people who want help, are grateful and make my job seem easy. Believe it or not, I like both or I should say all. Each one is a challenge in one way or another. The more difficult, the more I work to prove myself and how I can help them whether they knew they wanted it or not. The easy ones, the more I am reminded why I love my job and this is why I do it.<br /><br />But with every new case comes risk. I know, I know, I’m a Victim Advocate. What risks do I really face? You’re correct in that I probably don’t face any serious physical risks – too often. But there are risks in caring for a victim.<br /><br />I have had three cases recently that remind me (which I think it’s good to be reminded – occasionally) I’m not invincible or untouchable. They are, of course, all domestic violence related. I cannot give details due to confidentiality, but what I can say is one case had me fear for my own safety and the other two have me in fear for the safety of my victims.<br /><br />In the first case, I fought hard for the victims. Charges were changed from misdemeanor crimes to felony. I was and am proud that he will be held accountable on higher charges. Trust me – he deserves it. The risk for me in this case was the level of fear the victim has of her perpetrator. She could easily betray me to him as the one that “got him in trouble.” Of course, I didn’t do anything to get this idiot into trouble. He did that himself, but most perpetrators never see it that way. Now, I’ve done this type of thing for many of my victims, so what made this one different – the victim. This time I could actually see her betraying me. She is so childlike in her behavior and fear, and what do most children do if there is someone else to blame? Yep! “She made me do it. I didn’t want to.” To give you an idea of what I mean, the victim’s first question to me upon meeting was, and I quote, “What do you think my punishment will be when he gets out of jail?” Huh? I’m sorry, what? Her only concern was her punishment. (See, I told you, he deserved it.) This is a true victim of repeated domestic violence. For most of the rest of the world, that would not have been the first question asked. However, the more I talked with her, gave resources, and assistance, the more I realized she could turn on me. Now, it really isn’t often, if ever, that a victim advocate’s life is in danger (although we’ve had our share of threats). But this one made me pay attention. Thankfully, so far this victim is following through with leaving him and protecting herself and her children. This has taken a great deal of courage for her to step out on her own. I am proud of her and for her.<br /><br />The next two cases hit me in one day. These two cases are probably why I’m writing this blog. In a way, it helps me to get it out and decompress. Like I mentioned, these are also domestic violence. One was severely strangled and both were threatened that their deaths were and are imminent. One was almost completed and the other is in great fear that it will be once the perpetrator is released on bail. I’ve never spoken with someone who had resigned themselves to their own death. It’s very un-nerving. The hardest part is not understanding why they aren’t fighting for their own life. But I guess that is what fear is sometimes – resignation. I’m hoping that I have done my job for these two victims. Granted, I know ultimately their safety is in their own hands.<br /><br />Eventually I will face the death of a victim that I have worked with before. It is inevitable, I know. I’m just not sure what I will do with it once it happens. You see, I’m not untouchable or hard - jaded, yes. In fact, even though I’ve not faced it, I know it will be difficult.<br /><br />In law enforcement, in general, there is a lot of role playing. Some of it is external for training purposes and some is internal. Unless the role player voices it, those are never known except to the individual. I’ve role played how these events could play out on my end. I dare not put myself in the role of the victim – talk about issues. But what could it look like if it happened while on call verses not on call. And so on. I know role playing is good for training, but I find myself wondering do we do it for ourselves as a self preservation. Meaning, does it make the impact or shock any less when I hear the news? I dunno. I think either way, it will be hard to know that you fought to help someone who needed it or can’t help themselves yet, and it failed them – the system, safety measures, etc.<br /><br />I spend a lot of time with some victims, especially if the case is severe. You do begin to care for them – not all, I’ll admit, but you still care for the human life that has been so beaten and battered either by another or the choices they themselves have made.<br /><br />I received two panicked phone calls from these victims, and all I ultimately could do was my job – safety and security, vent and validate, and prepare and predict. After I hung up with them, I found myself with my head on my desk praying for them. I know I should pray for all my victims and I do pretty well and then sometimes I’m praying they get out of my office or off my phone. (just being honest) ;-) But I spent a while praying for them and their <strong><em>families</em></strong>. I often forget about that ripple effect, but it’s there – always.<br /><br />I do pray for these women. I pray that God protects them but also urges them to use the brains He gave them. May God always protect them and be their peace.<br /><br /><em>(I have to post this because it's funny. But speaking of peace and victims that are afraid they are going to die. I actually told one that for the next 24 hours (due to offender being in jail) to "rest in peace." Opps. What would Froyd say? But I laughed at myself after I hung up the phone.)</em></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14137528987627947267noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061521819997632870.post-34943379747768503722008-12-09T10:19:00.000-07:002008-12-09T12:09:57.735-07:00Personal Ramblings on The Shack<div align="justify">I've been asking many of my friends lately if they have read the book, <em>The Shack</em>, yet. Most have not but want to. I have read it and look forward to reading it again now that I know how the 'story' ends. There is alot to take in and process, and it is that information that requires another read. If you can't tell, I highly recommend the book. Here are my ramblings.<br /><br />I love the book in that it shows what I do believe to be the heart of God - relationship with His children. The author tells and reveals an amazing relationship with God/Papa and Nan and the development of one between God and Mac. All throughout the story, you can see the pursuit of God with Mac and Mac with God. It is done with such patience and gentility but at the same time God is still God and doesn't let Mac get away with easy sarkasim, anger, questions or comebacks. The innerchange between Papa/Jesus/Sarayu (I think this is the name for the Holy Spirit used in the book) and Mac is so well written. He's not allowed to just think his thoughts (even though God knows them), but he has to voice them out loud and let them be heard. I like that. There is power in putting our thoughts into spoken words - good and bad. Mac's are finally spoken and answered without judgment! How wonderful that would be, eh, to not be judged for voicing questions, doubts or fears?<br /><br />What if I could meet God at the Shack? Would I even believe my own experience? There is so much "evidence" (and I use that word losely) that says if you experience this or that, no you really didn't it was just something else. Nice and clear, I know.<br /><br />But here's a story for an example, I had an experience that happened one night in Dallas. I choose not to go in to detail beyond what you need to understand my point. Anyway, one night I awaken to not being able to move any part of my body, my eyes are open and I can see and I can hear. What I'm not sharing with you is what I saw or heard. But from this experience, I've been told I was still asleep - somewhere between dreaming and awake and in this place we have that sense of being awake and yet unable to move. Science has proven this, however, it has not proven that voices or visions are a part of that state of being nor pain, nor destroyed property that was not apart of me. You read correctly - I had property destroyed and moved because of a dream - at least according to science. In this case, science is lacking - greatly.<br /><br />But back to my question, would I believe it? I ask this because I had well meaning friends and strangers comment on my experience as I shared it (more freely than I do today - wonder why?) and was basically told I had a bad dream. It made me question my own experience and worse doubt it. This is one of the problems I see with today - we do not trust our own experiences because they are not tangible or testable by science. But this is another soap box for another day. I digress.<br /><br />I hope I would believe such an experience as I still do the one I just mentioned. You see, I can understand what is being explained to me about science and dream states, but what no one else can understand is what happened to me that night. I know I will not be able to tell my story and have someone understand completely or even believe me, but it doesn't change the reality of the event.<br /><br />Then what would I ask or say or do? I guess it depends on the day and the hour. Today, I would probably yell that I don't understand. I don't understand so much hatred for Christ as His is a message of Love - the Ultimate Gift. I don't understand why He made it so hard to believe. I don't understand why love is suppose to be enough but all too often isn't. I don't understand why one person can <em>see</em> Truth and believe and why another is blinded. I don't understand why we're asked to love when the potential and probability of return is pain. I don't understand how He could do all that He's done for this world knowing it would reject Him, hurt Him, abuse Him and turn Him away. He could have made a world that loved Him, accepted Him and worshiped Him. Or even a world where the statement, "all paths lead to the same place" is true and there would be no division over who was right or wrong. I don't understand. Today, these are my yellings.<br /><br />I'm sure tomorrow will be different. There is alot I don't understand. And yet peace that I don't have to know or understand everything. I'm not saying I have peace in the not knowing/understanding, but that it's not mine to figure out. I have been called to love God with all that I am and (was reminded this morning) my neighbors too. That is my goal - I'm not there yet by any means and may never be fully this side of heaven, but I can keep trying.<br /><br />I think I started this blog about a book. Ah, yes, <em>The Shack. </em>The book touches on some of what I'm rambling about and I want to really re-read it before I comment much more. I'm also hoping that someone will read the book and want to discuss it as much as I do. I know the blog has the potential of reaching someone who doesn't know me or live around me. Hey, I can type (obviously) and we can chat. I'd like that.<br /><br /><br />BTW - I'd love to meet God/Papa at the Shack and talk face to face and have the option of going home with Him or returning to this world. Hmm....there is an interesting question (for another day). Would you return or go home?</div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14137528987627947267noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061521819997632870.post-23990968735355958952008-10-10T10:49:00.000-06:002008-10-13T14:16:27.235-06:00A Love So Deep<div align="justify">A call I went out on in the Spring was another DOA of an elderly woman. When I arrived, I entered the house to find her husband kneeling on the floor, where she had been laid, holding her hand. Normally, people, even family, are not allowed to sit with the body until after the coroner investigates. But this husband was not going to be removed - at any cost.<br />I don't speak French but I've heard enough of it through movies or other avenues to understand certain phrases. He kept stroking her hand repeating, "<em>Mon Amour. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Je</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">vous</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">aime</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Je</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ne</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">vous</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">quitterai</span> pas</em>." Translation: My Love, I love you and I will not leave you." Over and over again I could hear these words.<br />I got him talking to me about his wife. They were from Belgium and met in the 20's. They married when she was only in her mid teens. She was a model and I got to see one of her pictures from her youth and none of our current models today could hold a candle to this lady! Gorgeous! He told me of his surprise that she married him, and they never spent a day apart.<br />I asked if they had any children to come and be with him, but they were never able to have kids. I then looked around the house and noticed various statues of Christ/Verses and asked if he wanted his pastor to be with him. He had already called him to come and be with 'them'.<br />We sat there with his wife as he would not leave her or close her eyes (very <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">un</span>-nerving, by the way). He wept as he told her that they promised to go together but she left him behind. They had been married so long, he was afraid to be without her.<br />Then he had to go to the bathroom. This is a first for me, because he then looked at me and asked me to hold her hand so she would not be alone. He said, "I know she's not your family, but would you please?" <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Uhh</span>......"<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">OoooohK</span>." So he placed her hand in mine and told her he'd be right back and introduced me to her. I sat there on the floor, 9 months pregnant, holding a dead woman's hand. I had many thoughts at that moment, but the most amazing thing was finding myself talking to her. (I have to be honest, I didn't hold her hand the whole time.) I told her, "Sorry, but this is just a little creepy as you are staring at me and now I'm talking to you." I laid her hand down and watched for him to return so I could pick it back up and hold it. I found my peace doing this as I don't think she minded at that point. At least, I hope not.<br />The coroner arrived and had us leave the room as no family should ever watch that investigation - not pleasant, very clinical. His pastor had also arrived and they cried together. He was so worried that they would close her eyes and she'd be gone. We tried to prepare him for the inevitable closure and that she was already gone. He wasn't ready to hear/believe that.<br />What I didn't mention is this couple was maybe all of 5 feet in height. They were cute! I mention this because he was a lot taller in my book when I left. He stopped one of our deputies as he was leaving and said to him,"<em>I know, Sir, that this is everyday life for you. You go from one call to the next and have become hardened to death. But for me this is not everyday and this was my wife, my Amour. I hope someday you learn more compassion. Thank you for coming and helping me today</em>."<br />Sweet!! I say this because he's right and not only for this deputy. We do deal with death <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">alot</span> and become very 'immune' to it, so to speak. I do not know what happened to make him single this officer out, but I applaud his courage and honesty to speak so <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">politely</span> at a time like this in his life. It was a great reminder to me too. I do look at death very differently and have a very warped view. I'm very jaded.<br />I do not know what happened to him, but I could definitely see him truly dying of a broken heart. And if a person could die of a broken heart, I would imagine he'd want that as he would see her again.<br />The concept of heaven has so many different views, wishes, beliefs, etc. We weren't left with too many details. I love the song, "I Can Only Imagine." I know it centers around Christ and what will we do when we see Him, but I also can only imagine about loved ones, life, animals, and so much more. For example, will we remember from 'day to day'? Is there a day/night? Will we remember our loved ones from this earth? Will we know that some are missing? Some days I hope we are oblivious and we just sing and dance with abandonment.<br />Until the day that I get to know the answers to my questions, I keep looking at love so deep here in this life and imagine it only getting deeper, better and more <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">wondrous</span> in heaven. God protect our loved ones here and God speed the ones that have already gone before us.</div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14137528987627947267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061521819997632870.post-2512286189887843752008-10-07T16:24:00.001-06:002008-10-13T14:18:51.802-06:00Sweet Moments<div align="justify">I have to post this story because I love it. I got called to a DOA or unattended death where a 70+ year old male had died suddenly and unexpectedly. As I entered the home, the deputy stopped me because the family was praying. I stood and listened to their prayers and added my own. I was introduced to his sons and his wife, who was seated at the kitchen table. I knelt beside her and took her hand and told her I was sorry for her loss (the most inadequate words I've ever spoken). I didn't realize at the time I was to sit like that for the next 2 hours. She held my hand as if her life depended on it.<br />Her sons were grown and in their 50s. They tried to help their mom by telling her different things like, "God knows best." "Don't cry as God knows what He's doing." "Dad is in a better place, so we shouldn't cry for him." Now, I know that each one of those statements was to bring her comfort, but they didn't. (BTW - comments like these never bring peace to anyone.)<br />She told me that in two weeks they would have celebrated 50 years of marriage. They were looking forward to it. He was her only love. She'd never kissed another. Wow!<br />At every sentence her sons would say, she'd turn and stare so deeply into my eyes that tears stug the back of them. See, I can't join in their grief. For one thing, I'd never survive in this job if I did. The other is not to rob them of their grief and make them feel that they must rescue me. But I came close to tears with this sweet lady who just wanted to hold her husband one last time.<br />With each stare she'd grip my hand even harder (my ring was imprinted into my fingers for several hours after I left her). Her stare was soul searching. I've never experienced anything like it. When I left I gave her hug and left her with the words, "God knows your pain and He understands your tears. Don't hold them back. He too weeps with you and your pain. God bless and keep you." No one else heard my words to her. She still had my hand and I knew that as I spoke every bone was being broken by her attempt at self-control. She looked at me again and a tear fell down her face. She reluctently let go of my hand and I reluctently left.<br />I've never been on a call that touched me so deeply. I've never forgotten her face or her eyes. I've often wondered if I didn't get a glimpse of how intense the eyes of God are. I couldn't look away - I wanted to and yet I didn't. She could see to the very depths of my heart, and I hope she saw it breaking with hers - not to the same degree but breaking all the same.<br />This is where I love my job. Sounds crazy, huh?! But I do. I get to meet people, even the ones that are no longer living. I get the honor of hearing the stories of their loved one. I get to laugh with them, hold their hand, dry their tears, and intrude on one of life's most intimate moments and leave as quietly as I came. I love hearing the stories. They are powerful - especially to the ones left behind. It makes me cherish mine a little more every time. I'll never forget this lady or my time with her or what I felt.</div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14137528987627947267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6061521819997632870.post-55487378639356399512008-10-07T15:39:00.000-06:002008-10-07T15:44:45.261-06:00Catching up with the worldHello. Not sure anyone will even read this, but I just stumbled on this. I've read other people's blogs and my husband has wanted me to do this for a while. Who knows - maybe I'll find it interesting. Of course, I realize that my entries have to get more interesting than this. However, I do have to admit I don't trust writing stuff down for people to read. I have this horrifying nightmare that it comes back to haunt a person at the worst times. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Hmm</span>....this could be very interesting - an experiment of sorts. Well, I titled this correctly - ramblings!Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14137528987627947267noreply@blogger.com0