Aegis Is.......

There are things that stand out in one's memories, and others that are blurred about the edges. I remember playing on the acreage where my grandmama had her trailer-house. It was in a corner of my aunt and uncle's property. They lived in a mansion (a real mansion, made of large, rough stones), but their mother, my Grandmama, lived in a very small trailer. But a child doesn't think at the time, how unfair that appears - to make your mother live in a trailerhouse when you have four of five stories on your house and at least five or six bedrooms on each story. . . Grandmama never seemed to mind. But then, Grandmama was a rare gem of a true lady.

I never remember her, in any of my memories, ever complaining. She was the only haven I knew. I don't appoint her to a pedestal to high to reach, only the adoration she was due. She was always there to give an honest and understandable answer. She seemed to know a child just want's to understand "why".

Prior to my arrival, my mother had been married a man other than my father. She had had two children by that man: a girl whom was named after her, and a boy. The girl refuesed to use my mother's name and went by her middle, and was on her third husband when I was born. And my brother's first son was born less than nine months after I came in to the world.

My mother's account of the story was that one day her husband (#1) came home and simply said he was done "playing house". Excuse me, but didn't anyone see something here? Contrary to the saying, Love is NOT blind. But perhaps, where love may not be blind, I think fools are. As I think about it, I'm not all that sure she really ever loved him. I don't remember her ever saying so. But then, my mother never talked about such things as loving devotion or passion. Life went on for her.

She didn't tell me, or perhaps I never asked, or perhaps she told me and the story wasn't interesting, but I don't know how my mother met my father (husband #2). It was a short lived relationship. Love was a question here too. Perhaps Mother thought you had to marry whomever you had sex with.

My mother divorced my Alcoholic, Manic-depressive, habitual-gambler of a father before I was two. That gave to a great deal of moving. Stability was not one of my security blankets. In fact, I never had a blanket or pacifier, my mother didn't believe in them, or so she said. I'm not sure what she believed in.

God, was never allowed in our house either. She said that was one of two things never spoke of in her house. I do remember her saying a couple times..."there is no heaven or hell, its only what you make while on earth".... [that's a scary thing to tell a child]. I don't think she liked conflict. I know she wasn't ready to have a child like me.

I never liked school. The other kids were too . . . childish. I preferred spending my time with adults, or alone. Alone was my favorite. Alone, I could be whomever I wished. Alone, I could be whatever I wished. Alone, I was fine. Alone, I wasn't as lonely as when I wasn't alone. At school, I was picked on a lot. Perhaps it was because I was always "the new kid", or because I was different, or because I could hold somewhat coherent conversations with adults. It didn't matter, I wasn't accepted.

In elementary school no more than 2nd grade, when I would get fed-up with being teased or thumped or class, I would get up, go to the teacher and simply tell her I was leaving. Then I would. I would walk home, or go where ever I felt like. Sometimes I would go over to the "big kid's" side and hang out with the ground's keeper.

The Ground's keeper was my boyfriend for some time. Ok, don't panic, he wasn't a sick-o. He knew I was just a kid. He was totally above board with me and I think the only thing he ever did was hold my hand a couple times when we would talk and walk to his next task. He was 24 and a dear sweet man that helped me through a really tough time. Life was difficult (intellectually).

My mother worked really odd jobs, so I was on my own. But then, as I said earlier, I liked it that way. As I graduated into 4th grade and realized that it wasn't beneficial to leave the school grounds, I would merely tell the teacher I was going to the Principal's office; he and I became good friends.

My mother thought I was retarded or something. She was always telling me to stop being so crazy. She said that I would stand and cry: "Nobody loves me!" She said it used to drive her crazy. Well, I have to stop here a moment and hypothetically ask - shouldn't there have been warning bells going off here? Why was a child always saying "no one loves me" unless that is what she believed?

Stability?

A list of the places I remember living would run something like this:

. . . . . . a duplex with my mother and her third husband (where I got Shadow)

. . . . . . a two-room trailer house with Grandmama and Mom

. . . . . . any number of days or weeks with this aunt or that aunt or this uncle or that of my mother's four sisters and four brothers

. . . . . . a duplex in a small town, where I had the run of the entire town. No, kerfu. No one to wonder where I was.

. . . . . . a care-taker's house at a correctional farm for boys (I probably don't have to tell you "this was my favorite!")being the only girl made for some interesting times

. . . . . . a track house in a busy city, where I would run home from school to avoid the gangs who trolled for school kids to beat when I was in fourth grade

. . . . . . a house in a smaller city where I finally had a small group of friends and felt somewhat like I fit in only to be uprooted again

. . . . . . a small house in a mid-sized town where I finished Elementary School, my mother married husband #3 again (yes, that is what I said * feel free to ask me about this story), and where I watched my grandmama die, and hauled off, like so much lifeless flesh (I lost my haven)

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All through I can not remember, nor draw to mind an image or time where my mother held me in her lap and told me she loved me. There are no fond memories of being rocked. No lullabies that provoke a recollecting smile. No cuddles on rainy afternoons. Don't get me wrong, I know my mother loved me. I know she does love me. I just think she didn't know how to show it. She did tell me that I was a "surprise" (never used the word blessing) Perhaps raising with nine kids, during the depression, Grandmama didn't have time to teach her children how to raise children of their own. Or maybe in that time, a Mother was expected to learn it on her own. I don't know. I do love my mother, truly. I do think, though, my life has led me to a misanthropic way of looking at life.

I was five when she divorced her third husband. He too was an alcoholic, as well as a habitual liar. I don't think he could have told a truth if he thought he was about to be drawn and quartered. She said she divorced him because he hit me, of which she wouldn't stand. I respect her for her protective nature, there are so many parents these days lacking, but I would have preferred a nurturing nature. And much to my horror she later remarried this man*, to live with until his death in 1995.

I was about nine when the loneliness began to really toll on me. I decided that I wanted a best friend - everyone else had one. I didn't have any siblings my age and my counsin was none to kind to me, so I wanted a friend that would never leave or forsake or be mean to me. (In relating how I looked at things as a child I've been told that I was strange and a little to mature) I would look around and see all of creation and think that no way did all this "just happen". I wanted the one who created all of this to be my best-friend. I didn't want someone who was made-up. I wanted a real best-friend - I didn't have to see him. So, I decided that I wanted this "God" to be my buddy. I didn't know anything about Him, because no one had ever been alowed to tell me. No one ever told me about God or Jesus - as i mentioned, such topics were not allowed. But that was who I wanted to be buddies with. (I tended to go straight to the top. After all, what could I loose, I had no friends to speak of and my mom already figured I was someone to hide in the attic)

But "God" was a little to impersonal for me. I told him I wanted a personal name that was just between he and me. He gave me one. Mott.

Mott and I hung. I talked to him and my dog (Shadow) about everything. He never judged my fears or pain or loneliness, he was just like Shadow, always there for me. I told him one time when we were out hiking across the hills. "I realize I don't know anything about you, really, but I swear, when you show me who you are - I will turn in that direction and never leave." Several years later, when I was 17 - 18, a youth group came to my high school and started telling kids about this Jesus dude. I went up to camp (Woodleaf) and listened. I thought this Jesus dude they talk about is ok, but how do I know he was real, and then one day God whispered in my ear and said "this - this Jesus of whom speak - is me".

He took me at my word and expected me to do the same. I did. I have set my face as flint and I shall not be moved. He has made my direction in Him and has called and corrected and strengthened and most of all shown me that someone DID and DOES love me. He reached out of heaven to a small and lonely girl that had never heard of God and held her hand when no one else would. He held my heart so gently and rocked me in His arms and made me know love.

That day remains so very vivid in my heart (the faces have faded). We were singing Amazing Grace and the camp leader asked if any wanted to stand to declare their new found faith. I did.

This is only a small part of my story.... It has been a most wild adventure. I have seen things that defy explination, survived impossible situations and most amazinly found that without a doubt - THERE IS A GOD! He is real! He is powerful! And He is Love.

Now, don't be fooled - for I am not one - Life has not really gotten any easier for me. No, actually, I think its gotten harder in some ways, but one thing I know - I am loved, cherished, and there is an amazing home awaiting me at the end of this adventure.

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This is the place where I tell you that you can find the One who loves you as no other... I want you to know that I in no way discount or diminish what has happened to you in your life's journey so far. No, that would make me a fool and an idiot. I've had a saying that still hasn't quiet left "Life sucks and it just keeps on sucking". If this is how you've felt, then your ache is my ache. I understand. My scars may not be your scars, but blood is blood and pain - pain.

Accept the hand of God that is reaching out to you. It is His earnest desire to meet you at your point of need and walk with you in a most wonderful adventure - a renewed and restored life.

After all... We are ALL just sorjourners and travelers on this planet
I remain,
Aegis

A Servant of God the Savior and Christ Jesus, by the mighty Holy Spirit who strengthens and sustains me, in duty to the Cross by which I stand, fearless and unashamed.