We all have our demons, our issues; and I am facing more of mine. I have never written the following event in any of my journals, it was too painful. I am surprised I am writing it now. 
My mother died 15 years ago. I adored my mother, absolutely adored her. She was my Goddess. My father died when I was 3 1/2 years old, and then my mother became my total world. There was a lot of pain in my realtionship with my mother, which I will not go into here at this time, but that pain abated and together we worked out many issues which brought us to a wonderful relationship the last 7 years of her life. My mother and I spoke on the phone at least 5 times day. She would call me at work and tell me 'the joke of the day'. If I happened not to be at work and she did not know I was home, she would speak with which ever co-worker who would be sitting at my desk when she called. She made phone relationships with several of my co-workers.
I lived nearby my mother so I would stop at her house as much as I could, and that would be at least 2 or 3 times a week.
November 9th, 1998, I went to visit her in the morning. For a few weeks before she had complained of being tired. My mother was never tired and always busy doing something. She was 80 years old and very active. She had serious arthritis and heart disease but she kept moving. One day she called me and said; 'guess what I am doing?' I said; 'what?" She said she was sitting down and making birthday cards. I asked her who she was making the cards for and she told me. She would usually make a card about one week before sometone's birthday but she was making them for months in advance. So here she was tired, sitting and making cards for way down the road; and I knew. I tried to push it away by asking her what she wanted to wear for Christmas and I ordered her some clothes. In my paniced mind I convinced myself that if I bought her clothes she would be there with me Christmas.
So I went to visit her that morning, on November 9th; and she stumbled a bit. She never ever stumbled before. I asked her if she were ok, and she said yes. I went on to work and left her at home with my stepfather.
Later that day, about 4:30pm, I got a phone call from my cousin and she asked me if anyone had called me. I told her, no. She told me that my mother had been raking leaves with my nephew, Michael, and that she had a heart attack. Michael called 911 and my mother was taken to the hospital at about 1pm that day and that she was still at the hospital. My cousin told me to hurry.
I immediately stood up from my desk and told a supervisor that someone would have to finish my work, and that I was leaving. She asked me why and I told her. Someone offered to drive me but I refused.
While driving to the hospital I could feel or sence spirits around me. I know this may sound crazy to some but it is what i felt. I felt like I knew some of them and that they all knew me, they were all family. I begged them to wait, please wait until I got there.
I arrived at the hospital at at about 5:30pm. They would not let me see my mother. My brother told me that he got there early and that he was able to sit with her a while and talk with her. I wanted to see my mother. I wanted to tell her that I loved her before she died. I begged them to let me see my mother and they kept saying, they would check and see if I could see her, but no one would let me see her.
I was crying, sobbing, and woman in the waiting room with me, came to sit by me and stroked my hair and spoke with me. I told her that my mother was dying and they would not let me see her. She held me and let me sob, and told me that we are never ready to let go. 
Later one of the doctor's came out again to give an update. I asked again to see my mother. He said they were doing what they could for her and that I had to wait. Icould feel myself loosing control. I was on the edge as it was and felt myself fall over the edge. I told him in a cold and deep voice that if they did nto let me see my mother before she dies then someone is going to get hurt. I felt like I was in a bubble and everyting around me was foggy. Someone came and got me and moved from the waiting room to a hallway. There were a few relatives with me. I saw a very large man, a security guard and 2 city police officers. The doctor told me that this is an area they requested families to remain in. I knew he was keeping me there because of what I said. I remember thinking,'if I do loose control, they will sedate me, and that would be ok.'
My brother took me back in to the wating room. The waiting room was empy except for me. He eft for a minute and came back and told me that they were going to let me see my mother but I had to calm down. I immediately was calm and said 'ok'. The doctor came and got me and took me in to see my mother. There was a man on top of her doing compressions on her heart. The doctor told me Ihad only 5 minutes and I had to stand at the doorway and not go over to my mother. I said ok and I stood there. I saw that my mother's arm was hanging down from the table. I asked the doctor if I could hold her hand. I told him that I would not interfere and the I would only ask for a minute. He agreed. I walked over to the mother and stooped down to take her hand. Her hand was ice; so cold. I spoke to her and asked her to try. I told her that I loved her. The doctor told me that my time was up, so I went back to the waiting room. about 20 minutes later the doctor came out and said she had died.
At that time I felt like my mother waited for me before she left me, but now Iknow that is not true.
Some years on November 9th I am ok and some years I am very sad. This past November 9th I was ok, not sad, and I looked at that. But then in the back of my mind that entire experience was lingering. Today when I woke up I realized my mother had already died before they let me see her. I realized this because she was not in a regular emergency room. There were no monitors, no machines, no IV, nothing. She had died and they moved her to different room and decided how to best deal with me.
I called my youngest son this morning, Daryl; and told him. He listened to me. He told me that at that time I could not see how 'out of it' I was but everyone else around me could see it. HE also told me that the medical staff could not allow me in the emergency room ,they could not allow anyone in there while they were trying to save her. He aslo told me that the way they handled it was the best thing they could do to help me with my foirst stage of grief. What they did was a blessing.
I told Daryl that I did not get to say goodbye to the mother, that she did not get to hear me say that I love her. I cried this morning, as I am crying now, but I am not angry with them. I wanted to be angry with them but I am not. They did right my me. They helped me.
Daryl reminded me about those last year I had with my mother and how loving they were for both of us, and how many people don't have that. He told me that my mother knew I loved her. He also told me that I am focussing on my health and trying to loose weight, and I am focussing on my finances and trying to heal that part of myself too, and that this is all related. He said that maybe now I can deal with it and succeed.
I told him that I am on the threshold of acceptance.
I gained near 100 pounds within 6 months of my mother's death. I tried not to gain the wait and could not undrestand what was happening to me.
I bought her house from my stepfather, and I am so glad I did. I have surrounded myself with her memory there. Not only that, but I grew up there, my children grew up there, and other relative children and some of my grandchildren have grown up there for part of their lives. It is my home, and I know I bought it through my grief. But even when she was alive, I would ask her if I could buy the house and let her live there because I loved the house so much.
I feel at peace even though the grief has been taking holdof me thorughout the day, today.
I know it is a process and different for each of us.
I don't know what steps are in front of me, but as I said I feel I am at the threshold of acceptance.
Peace and Love to all
TTFN

Halloween has always been my children's favorite Holiday. I love Halloween too but Christmas is my favorite.
The year was 1976, and this year became the most memorable Halloween we ever had. Diana's birthday is Nov 2nd, so many times we celebrated her birthday with a Halloween party. This was her 12th birthday and we did have a Hallwoeen Birthday Party that year. The party was a smash but this post is not about that party. It is about the Mummy Costume I tried to make that year for David.
Diana wanted to be Raggedy Ann. That was easy, I got the pattern and went to work. She was a great Raggedy Ann. Daryl was four years old and I made him a clown costume. He too was adorable. David was seven years old and he wanted to be a mummy. I told him that I did not think I could make a muumy costume and tried to convince him to be superman or something else that I was certain that I could make. He insisted on being a mummy. So I tried.
I took strips of sheeting and wrapped it around him. I pinned it and glued it and pasted it. I made flour paste and put green food coloring in it and plastered it on his face. It seemed like it might work. I told David to be careful and walk slowly and not move around too much, and that the costume might hold up.
We were living in a very small community in the desert at the time, and there was a small parade for the kids to walk through a few blocks of the town. One of my friends took her kids and mine to the parade. I stayed home to work on Diana's birthday party that was going to take place that night.
When the kids came home, Diana came in with a Trophy. She won 1st place. She didn't sem very happy even though she had won. I asked her what was wrong. She said she was happy about winning but David's costume fell apart. She said they were walking in the parade and his custume began falling off, and as he walked, more and more came undone.  Just as she said this, David came running through the door in tears, yelling at me, wearing only his underwear. I have to say that at this point I was not the 'good mom' becuse it was hilarious and I laughed. Poor David, his heart was broken and I was the evil mom who bothced his custume and then laughed. I composed myself and tried to talk to him. It was no good. He was so hurt, embarrssed and angry. And the worst of it was Diana won first place (and I laughed).
Diana's birthday party was great and David did have some fun.
We never talked about that Halloween for years to come.

Years later when the kids were teenagers Diana and Daryl were talking to David about that Halloween. David seemed to still be upset over it and I have to say that sometimes me and all my kids including David can be relentless when we think something is funny or think there is something one of us sould get a grip on and get over. This was one of those things. We had a good laugh and David said that we were all 'wrong' but he also looked like he had a smile in there somewhere trying to get out.
Halloween was still special for my kids and after I left my husband our Holidays were quite meager for several years. But once I got my job with Los Angeles County, life improved dramatically, and on Halloween I would get those plastic pumpkins and fill each one with each of my kids favortie candy bars. One year I put in little trinkets too. I got Diana a little witch, and Daryl got a little skeleton, and I found a little mummy figure for David. When I gave them their pumpkins, David protested, again saying that I was just 'wrong'. I said ' get over it, you are 17 and it was funny, and I tried to get you to be superman, I told you I didn't think I could make that costume work'. Diana and Daryl were just about rolling on the floor from laughing. I did tell you that we can be relentless, and that includes David too, not just me and Diana and Daryl. This is our family.
So each year I added a witch for Diana, a sleketon for Daryl and mummy for David; and when I could find them a mummy card for David too.
Even when they were adults and living on their own I would give them these little trinkets. I have stopped giving Diana witches and stopped giving Daryl skeletons but to this day I still give David a mummy or two or three each year. He has a housefull of mummies.
One year I invited my kids to my house for Halloween dinner and to take my granddaughter trick or treating in my neighborhood. They came and we had a fun time. That year David was living at home with me and I found a card that was a muumy and that  card unfoled about 6 times, and with each turn of the page the mummy unwrapped until it was just one string; so funny !!! David opened the card and jumped up and said 'this is just wrong' and of course we all laughed.
the next day I went into David's room and he had taped up that card on his wall. I knew then that he was now beginning to heal from that aweful pain he felt that day.
The next year I found a card of a mummy sitting on a sofa holding a cat. The mummy was in tatters, it was hilarious! So of course I got it for David.
One year I didn't give David anything Mummy. Because he had protested so much each year, I thought I would give up.  But his feelings were hurt and he asked where was his mummy? I told him that I thought he really didn't want them and that is why I didn't give him one. He told me that at first he didn't like it but he has come to expect them and he missed getting one.
David is now a teacher. He has been teaching for about 15 years. And every year he decorates his classroom with his mummy collection. His students ask him why he has so many mummies so he tells them the story. He has told me that the kids laugh so hard they fall out of their chairs onto the floor. Then he has them write the story and draw pictures of how his custume fell apart in that parade. He has shown me the stories and pictures. The first time he showed them to me I almost cried. I know he is ok with it now. I know he sees the humor in that horrible experience he endured. And I know that he knows in his soul that I love him and I tried, and that I am not perfect even though our children need us to be perfect.
We all have times when life falls apart and leaves us in tatters. What matters is being able to put it behind us and make something good out of it if we can, and if we are really lucky and blessed, we can get a good laugh at the same time.

TTFN, Debbie

So much for trying to write every week. I actually feel pretty good writing a post before one entire year goes by. However this post will most likely be short since I injured my index finger, and typing is not easy right now. Once my finger is well I will definately come back and write a fun story about Halloween and a mummy custume I tried to make. I was supposed to write that last year but did not. I will do it this year ! But right now I am going to write about weight, my weight.
 
Like many others I have struggled with my weight most of my life, and like many families most people in my family are overweight and struggle too. When we have a normal weighted person or a thin person,  we are happy about that person but we do not understand that person. Most of us are healthy eaters but I must say that I think that I have the most healthy diet of anyone in my family. I eat mostly veggies and fruit with some meats. I have been eating more fish and poultry and less red meats this past year.

When I was a child my mother did not know that veggies could be steamed; they had to be fried in bacon fat. Evreything was fried in bacon fat. My mother's food was delicious but her cooking was Southern cooking and for the most part not very healthy.
Somewhere along my dietary road I learned about 'health food' and I learned to prepare foods in a more healthy way. I am still learning.

The problem is the not the food. Once I learned how to cook in a more lealthy way it was clear that the problem was not the food, at least for me.
The problem is my relationship with the food.

I began putting on weight when I was about 8 years old. I had a very traumatic childhood. I also got married when I was 17 and my husband was a batterer. I left that relationship when I was 27. Three times in my life I lost all the weight that I needed to loose but gained it back. As much as I have gained back I still weigh less than I did when I was married. I aboslutely REFUSE to weigh that much again. That number is more about him than the weight.

My mother died in 1998. For about 18 months before she died I was on a diet and doing well. I still had not learned how to eat in the world and not loose or gain weight. I also had no understanding of my emotional connection to food; AND I was in therapy at that time. I was in ongoing therapy since the day that I left my husband. Weight was addressed in my therapy however I had many other issues that took priority at that time.

When my mother died, I began gaining weight. I gained 80 pounds in 6 months and I absolutley could not understand what was happening to me, and nothing helped me. I was at a loss, but my loss was deeper than what I could understand.

I have had several doctors throughout my life and they have all been concerned for my health and my weight. I would get so angry with them because I thought they could not understand. I thought they did not know that I was doing the very best that I could and that I felt like a failure because I could not keep weight off even if I lost it. I now know that this was not true and now I have made peace with all of them, even the ones I nolonger see.

When I was 10 years old the motivation to loose weight was to stop being teased at school. When I was 24 years old the motivation was to get out of that horrible marriage and be able to get a job to support my kids and I believed that no one would hire me due to my weight. The motivation before my mother died was my young adult sons telling me they were worried about me, and I saw one of my sons loosing weight on a particular program so I tried that program and was loosing the weight. However that program is a protein based program and teaches nothing about how to live in the world once the weight is off and also does not deal with the problems of what put on the weight in the first place.

I feel like my time has come now. I gave up after my mother died and I gained the weight back. I gave up and tried to accept that this is me. I have just tried to keep from reaching that dreaded number on the scale of when I was married. The marriage and my ex are so appaling to me that I will not reach that number!!!

Last year, in September, I was diagnosed with Atriel Fibulation. That is an irregular heart beat and my heat beats too fast. The blood does not get pumped into the lower chambers of the heart very well, and can sit there and coagulate and cause a stroke. So I am on medication for this. I asked one doctor if my weight is the cause. She said no, that it is an electrical problem, but she was still concerned about my weight, and that the weight can cause a heart attack.
We (I) all know that these things happen, and we (I) all know what causes a lot of them, but we (I) stay in denial until it happens.

About 2 years ago I was going to weight watchers and doing ok. One thing I like about WW is that they teach you to 'eat' in the world. That nothing is off limits but it must be counted. For a normal weighted person, they don't need to count, there body and mind just do it autmaticaly. I am not saying they don't pay attention to what they eat, I am just saying that there are those of us who must count or consciously measure (or visually measure) everything. For me it is a constant awareness. I have to be consciously aware of every bite I eat. When I keep myself up front as my number one priority I can do this. But if I slip down my list of priorities then I fail to do this and then I fail. I have been teaching myself to REMEMBER that I am my #1 priority. This used to feel selfish to me, but it is not selfish at all. I do not go to weight watchers anymore. I know their program and it is a very good program. I use what they have taught me. I use it every day. But there is more.

There has always been the argument of Diets Work and Diets Don't Work. Well they may work for some and not for others. This is a very personal journey and every person has to figure out their own and what is best for them.

A few weeks ago a young friend of mine told me about a book he read. It had nothing to do with diets. The name of the book is 'How to be Sick' by Toni Bernhard. I read this book. It is a Bhuddist's approach to living with chronic illness. There was something in this book that when I read it, it made me cry. It went strait to my core being; Straight to my soul. The passage read something like this, 'be peaceful my body for working so hard to support me'. I immediately began sobbing and changed the words and said to my body, "Thankyou my body for holding my grief all of these years'. I also told my body that I am so sorry for blaming my body for everything, and I said this from the depth of my being.

What I found so interseting was a few days before my friend told me about this book, I did an internet search about Self Compassion and Weight Loss. I had come to a place in my life where I knew that I have to learn compassion for myself, that somehow my weight problem has something to do with being compassionate to me. I found books !!!! So I bought books, and have been reading them. I have also learned that it is normal to eat certain foods for emotional comfort, that is why they are called comfort foods, and that it is not 'bad', it is normal.

I have sticky notes at my desk at work with sayings and reminders to be peaceful and have compassion for everyone and that includes me.

I still measure my food every day, and count points almost everyday, and remember to keep myself my #1 priority. I also have someone very special in my life for support. This is an email friend. I have not yet met her in person but she is the most supportive person in my life and I love her.
I also have calculated how many years of life I gain when I loose weight. This is not scientific. It is just that I have 'this' many pounds to loose and I want to live to be 100, and based on posibly living to 80 and adding 20 years to my life, my ratio is, for every 8 pounds I loose, I gain 1 year of life. I have added 2 years to my life in the last 8 weeks.

This is my motivation;
Living to see my grandbabies grow up.
Living to seeing the next generation, my great grand children be born.
Living is my motivation.

TTFN
Debbie

I hate to be rushed, but right now that is how it is, and I am very tired today, but I did not want to let another day go by without posting something on this blog. So today I will write a bit about a day trip I took last weekend. My next post will be much more fun. My next post will be about Halloween, Mummies, and costumes.

Last weekend my friend, Diane, and I took a bus tour to Julian. Julian is very near to San Diego but inland and in the hills. Julian is famous for apples. So we decided to practice being retired and see what it is like to take a day tour on a bus. It was okay, yes, just okay. We did not have to drive and pay the gas prices but both of decided that driving would be better, especially for such a short trip. Julian is about 2 1/2 hours from Pasadena, but on the bus it was 3 hours.
We had been to Julian before, about a year ago. The last time we were driving around Southern California on a bead hop. We visitied 34 bead stores in 4 days. That was a kick. But this time we were going for the Apple Festival. As I said, it was okay but since it was a festival there was way too many people for us. The best part of the trip for me was that I was sitting next to our tour guide on the bus. Her name was Amy. She was delightful and we had great conversations.
On our way to Julian we passed a Camel Dairy, yes a Camel dairy. It is illegal to sell Camel milk in the USA, so at this dairy there is no milk to buy, but you can lease a Camel and drink the milk from your own leased Camel, IF you want Camel milk. But they make and sell Camel soap. So that was pretty much the highlight of the trip. Needless to say we will not be taking another day tour to Julian.

So like I said, my next post will be a LOT MORE FUN. I love Halloween and so do my kids and grandkids; and I will tell you the funniest Mummy story ever, so stay tuned..............
 
TTFN

My choice in this topic is simply because a dear friend of mine sent me an email after reading my blog. I wasn't sure what I would write about next on the blog, but her coments moved me.

Also, please forgive me any spelling errors. I certainly can not win a spelling B and I can't find the spell check on this site.
When I was a child, my parents told me never to talk about Religion, God, or Politics to others. They told me that people get too upset and arguments insue, and people who love each other may stop talking to each other due to their differing views. But I am going to risk it today. I hope that those who love me will continue to love me, even if I become a disapointment in their eyes due to my personal philosophy. 
It has taken me most of my life to develop my thinking, and I have put a great deal of thought into where I stand today in the matter of God and Religion, and usually I keep it to myself.

This is what she wrote; "  May I take a moment to be really honest as a friend?     When you thanked the universe for bringing opportunities your way, I hoped that you were referring to the Lord Jesus.   He may take a little offense, in a good way, for giving credit to His creation rather than Himself.   It's sort of like giving credit to your necklace rather than you.     It may seem like a little thing, but after getting to know the Lord better and His Word, I see all the time where He doesn't want anything to come between Him and us.  He really does love hearing us recognize Him as a lover of His."

This made me think. My friend is a devout Christian. She walks what she talks. She is very dear to me. She was a nun but left the convent after 13 years of service. I tease her and tell her that she left the convent to become my personal nun. But I truly believe this. God sent her to me.

I have to stop here for second. I am going to be completely honest in this writing. This is where I take a risk. What is God? What is belief? Do I believe in God, or do I know God?

What is God? I have no idea.
If I could remember before I was born, I may have a glimsp of what God is, or is not; but I can't, so  I don't.

What is belief? Belief is thinking that my thoughts on any subject is the TRUTH. When in reality it is FAITH that what I think is the truth, is the truth. Faith is the operative word in all religions. Without it religion could not exist. People have faith that what they believe is the truth; but belief is not the truth; it is just belief and faith. This is where people get messed up. People have different beliefs. The people with beliefs all have the faith that thier belief is true. It is true to them but may not be true to their neighbor. Since they believe thier truth is THE truth, then their neighbor's truth can not be true.

I say why not? Why can't all people's truth be true? Why, because then none of their thruths are true.
There is only one truth, and no one KNOWS what it is. (Debbie's philosophy)
We only BELIEVE we know what it is.
But is there really only one truth? Why can't one person have one truth and another have another truth?
They can, this is called TOLLERANCE.

When I was born my mother baptised me Catholic, and then raised me Baptist. She studied Hinduism when I was a teenager and I became a Morman.
Are you laughing? It gets better, have a little faith :)

I am going to take moment here for those of you who do not know me personally. In order for some of this to make sense to you, you have to know that my childhood was hell. You have to trust me on this one. No details, just know that it was hell. My marriage wasn't much better, but was important to happen. When I left my husband, I went home to my mother. I had no other place to go. And the pain of my life, all 26 short years of it, came crashing down on me like an avalanche; and throw in an earthquake for good measure.

One day, while living at my mother's house, I was in the back yard. The pain in my soul was near intollerable. I was screaming and cursing at God. My mother and our neighbor were beside themselves fearful that I was going to hell for sure. My mother told me I can not speak to God that way. My mother spoke to me with compassion, not anger. But I was angry. I felt abandoned. I told my mother that that God made me, and if he can't handle my my questions and pain then I did not need him. If he were my spritual father then he should be able to handle me and give me answers. I told my mother that I would not bow to a God that allowed such pain; a God that would not take the pain away when I prayed, begged and pleaded for the pain to leave me. I told her that when my body is dead and my spirit comes to judgement day, I will not bow to him. I will stand eye to eye and ask WHY.
I turned away from the idea of a Father God, and found a Mother Goddess. This helped to heal me. I found love and compassion in the old religion of my Irish ancestors. It is the same kind of religion as our Native Americans, but it is much misunderstood. It is Wicca, but is it NOT satanic, Satan does not exsist in Wicca. Satan exists in the Christian world.

Interestinlgy, in Mormanism, there is not only a heavenly father but a heavenly mother. But I turned away from the Morman church. I was devout. But they refused to help me when I left my husband. The Bishop told me that my husband was a batterer because I did not pray hard enough to help him change. There are good Bishops in the Morman church, but mine was not.


I also turned away from Wicca, not because of Wicca, but again, because of the people. The people demanded tollerance but they refused to give it to others, especially to Christians. Also, my idea and interpretation of Wicca is not concrete. I do not think there are many gods. I saw Wicca and 'the goddess' as aspects of life; aspects of power; aspects of nature; not ACTUALLY gods and godesses. I saw that part of Wicca as myth.

I want to back up a bit here since I am talking about why I left these various religions. When I was 8 years old I thought I should go to the Catholic church since I was baptised in that church. So I was going to Catachism. A nun told me that my father could never go to heaven because he was not baptised Catholic before he died. I stood up and told her she was wrong, that God is not that mean. So I walked out and never went back. I set up my own alter in my bedroom and lit my own candles and said my own prayers, to a God that I thought was fair.

When I was in junior college, I took a class; The Bible as Literature. I wish I still had the Bible we used in class. It was the King James version, but at the bottom of the pages was a historical account of what was going on. So it was two books in one; the Bible, and a History book. This expalined a lot to me.

One thing I learned, but maybe not in that class, was that when Mary was alive, if a woman were raped and no one heard it or saw it, then she was not raped at all; and if she got pregnant then she was to be stoned to death. Who knows for sure, that Mary was not raped and then said that a Spirit impregnated her. She was more likely to be believed if she said she was impregnated by a spirit than to say she was raped. And who knows, maybe she believed she was impregnated by a spirit, maybe she was schizophrenic. If a woman today said she was impregnated by a spirit she would be in a hospital and put on meds. And who knows, maybe she really was impregnated by a spirit. I don't know, I was not there. But I love Mary and I love her mother, Anne, and I love Mary Magdeline as she is my sister, and I love Jesus, not because he is my savior but because he walked in peace and acceptance and tollerance, except when he got mad and lost it in the temple. And I love him for that too.

Somewhere along my Religious path I studdied Islam. I made Shahada, meaning I became a Muslim. What I learned there is that Mary was very special and that Jesus was the spiritual brother to Mohamed. I also learned more about peace in my lessons at the Mosque than I learned anywhere else. I learned that if someone harms you or slights you in any way, to wish them peace and walk on. No one is supposed to raise their hand to anyone in harm. I separated from Islam, because I know I am not a Muslim.

Also, along this journey of mine; after Wicca and before Islam, I had a friend who was a Sikh. I went with him to his place of worship. I enjoyed every minute that I was with him and at their 'temple'. But I always felt like a guest, not at home. But I felt more at home there than anywhere. These people had peace in the hearts and tollerance in their actions. I loved the chanting and meditation. I always felt better when I left there. My family thought I was going to become a Sikh but I knew I would not.

So many people on this earth worship in so many different ways. For many years years I have viewed all of the paths to God as spokes in the wheel. All leading to the center where God is. I really don't think God cares what path people take as long as they find Him. Isn't God bigger than that?  And I don't think God has a big ego. I don't think God needs an ego. I don't think God is jealous, I don't think God needs to be told that he is loved. I think God would rather people live in peace and have tollerance for each other. I think that would show God that you love God.

Sometimes I may use the wrong words, or no words at all, but I do believe that God knows my heart and hears what is in my heart. 
I try to keep peace in my heart, TRY, but I stumble. I try to forgive as I go, but I stumble. One thing I have been able to hold on to without stumbling is Gratitude. I walk in gratitude. I am completely and absolutely grateful for my life and the peace that has come to me. I know my God knows this. This is a far cry from the day I was screaming at God in the back yard, cursing him, and demanding answers to the reason for the pain in my life. And I don't even KNOW if there really is a God. I know what I don't beleive. I don't believe that God has a gender. I don't believe that an old man with a white beard sits on a thrown in heaven threateneing to send us all to hell if we don't feed his ego. I don't think God wants us to kill each other, hate each other, and exclude each other because of the spoke in the wheel we choose to walk. All of those spokes are only guides. Guides to help people find the center.

I have gone into the garden as Jesus did,
And blood has poured from my pores from the pain in my soul,
I emerged, changed yet unblemished,
A daughter of mercy, to serve my God and fellow creature.
I have awakened from the depths of hell due to the kindness of a few, who reached out and took my hand, who saw the flower blooming there in the crystaline white water of the center.

I am not a religious person, but I am a spiritual person. I have danced along several spokes of that wheel and have learned from each one of them. I love the ritual in each of them, they all speak to me. The problem that I see is that most people don't understnad that it takes all the spokes to make the wheel. Any one of the spokes can take you to the center, but not if you can not accept that there are other spokes in that wheel.

A few years ago I found out about a man, Dr.Dyer. He spoke of God, or the powers that be, as the universe. I think he did this to include everyone. Yes the Universe is not God. One thing Dr.Dyer stresses is to ask the powers that be for whatever you want and to always be grateful.
Everytime I have asked for something, it has come, or someone has come to show me along my path. I have had much help on my journey.
I do believe in angels, spiritual ones and human ones. And I believe in faeries, they are playful angels, earth angels, too playful to be heavenly angels.
I also believe in an after life. I would venture to say that there is an afterlife, only because of some experiences I have had. But maybe there is another explanation for those experiences, I hope not. I want to believe in an afterlife.

Do I believe in God? I must, I pray.  I say thankyou every second of my waking life.
Peace to all
TTFN

Yes, oops. I missed writing this blog on Friday, but I am only a few days late. What can I say,  S-happens. First I think I'll write about commitments. I have been thinking that writing this blog is a commitment to myself.  A commitment to write each Friday. But now I am seeing it as a commitment for others to read. I seem to do better when the commitment is for others. I always keep my commitments to others unless there is no possible way I can keep it. But I seem to allow commitments to myself to fall to the wayside. This includes fun things as well as health related things. Any commitment I make to myself I have trouble keeping. Other things and other people can take priority at any time. I would really like to be my first priority. There is no reason for me not to be my first priority anymore. All of my kids are grown and my grandkids have parents to take care of them, so I am free to be first in my life. This is new territory. So I think I will think of my commtiment to the blog as a commitment to the reader until I can actually feel a shift in my thinking, where my enjoyment of writing the blog is a commitment to my self. A fun thing I do for me.

That said, I want talk about my front yard. (the HOUSE comes later) I love my front yard. My entire property is 3/4 acres. That is almost unheard of in Los Angeles County. I am so fortunate to have a large lot. I thouht my front yard was small. It seemed small at first. It is only 22 feet deep but it is about 80 feet or more wide. When I bought the property it was ugly, not only the front yard but everything. But now the front yard is lovely. There is pine tree, a Deodor, on the north side of the yard. The lower limbs have been removed to create a seating area underneath the tree. My son, Daryl, poured a concrete slab under the tree to create a patio area. There are benches and chairs and potted plants on the patio. The curve of the lawn follows the natural curve of the tree as the limbs overhang and give shade.  The concrete slab is also curved. A garden edged by smooth pink Yosemite rocks sits between the lawn and the patio. There are stepping stones though the middle of that garden to the seating area. The garden is filled with ground cover gardenias. Naked Lady Lillies pop up in late Spring and flower into the summer. When they die back, the gardenias are exposed. Lights, mostly white with a spatering of blue, hang in the pine tree, twisting down around themselves to remind me of moss hanging in southern trees. This is my favorite place to sit and relax in the evening, and I also like to have my morning coffee in this special area in my front yard.

This is the house I grew up in. I always loved this house. Years ago, my mother had my brother cut back some of those pine tree limbs so that she could have a 'room' outside in the shade. When I first bought the house, this area was dirt and pine needles. I laid down wood chips until last year when I asked Daryl to pour the concrete. Eventually I want to have slate tiles set over the concrete.

When I bought the house, the front yard was a jungle and there was a Maple tree in the middle of the yard, but it died and had to be removed. Daryl removed the jungle and I began replanting.

Now, there are several trees in the yard. One that sits right against the house is an Artificical Plum. It has pink flowers in the Spring, and plum colored leaves all Summer and late into the Fall. I have pink lights in that tree.

In the middle of the yard, where the Maple tree used to be, I planted a young tree. I can't remember the name of the tree. It has pink bell shaped flowers in the Spring and it is drought tollerant. I think is it getting too much water because It gets watered every morning when the the sprinklers water the lawn. But is is doing fine. I have tiny faint yellow solar lights in that tree. These lights look like fireflies to me. They are so tiny and faint that they do not compete with the pink lights in the Artificial Plum tree.

At the other end of the front yard there are three young Magnolia trees. These trees only grow to a maximum of 15 feet. There are two with pink finger like blooms, and one with yellow standard shaped magnolia flowers. The two pink ones are at each side of the gate that leads to the back yard. The yellow one is at the curb on the property line. These trees also have the same faint yellow solar lights.
Between the one yellow magnolia and one of the pink magnolia's there is a garden that is shared by my neighbor. I planted a Jacaranda tree on the property line in the middle of that garden.  There are faint blue/white solar lights in the Jacaranda tree. All of the lights are beautiful and actually work well together.  There are also walkway solar lights edging the garden under the pine tree and the various other garden areas in the front yard. All of these lights change color. They are my rainbow lights. I enjoy driving up to my house in the evening after work. Sometines I just sit there for a few minutes and take it all in. My front yard and the lights in it fill me with joy.
One neighbor across the street told me that my yard looks like a park.

Well, I think that is all for now.
TT

Yes, that's me, MIA, and I am so sorry that I have not been keeping up with my blog. I have made a new commitment, yes that word, to write every Friday. I don't know if anyone is reading this or if anyone has and then came back and I had nothing for you to read. Again, my appoligies.  Like all of us, life situations can get the best of us now and then. So here's what happened since my last entry, which was last year.

A windstorm came and lifted the roof to my house. I had to have the roof replaced, which was a good thing because the roof was 30 years old and needed to be replaced anyway, and one day I will write about the HOUSE. It was a good thing because the insurance paid for most of it.

I work 12 noon to 8:30pm. I was at work when the windstorm began. On my way home the winds were picking up and debris was flying about. About 2 miles from house I encountered at least 15 wind devils. the street lights were off at most intersections. It was slow drive home. I thought OMG we are going to have a tornado, and I was right. Even if it weren't really a tornado, it acted like one, it sounded like one, the winds were 90plus miles an hour and the damage was the same as a tornado.

During this windstorm, my granddaughter; Kiara, and her girlfriend; Marina, and my dogs and I listened to what sounded like boulders crashing into the house. At that point everyone including the dogs looked at me with wide, frightened eyes. I said; 'hey, I am not going out there to see what that was, because I want to keep living'. So there we were, Kiara and Marina, huddled together, and me and the 3 dogs.
Finally, in the early morning hours, the wind stopped.
That day I had to go to work. Luckily the tree limbs missed my car, but I had to climb through them to get to my car. I car pool with a friend so I went to her house to pick her up. The amount of felled trees and damage to the area was such that it was impossible to drive to work. So my friend and I did not go to work that day. I went back home and Kiara and Marina had pulled all of the tree limbs off of the house and moved them to the edge of the yard to be hauled away. All in all, the damage to my house was minimal, even though it needed a new roof. I didn't know it needed a new roof. I only knew a few shingles came flying off during that windstorm. Part of my pine tree came crashing down on the roof too, but thank goodness another tree blocked those limbs from doing any serious damage, like creating an unexpected skylight. 

So my youngest son, Daryl, sent one of his friends to inspect my roof. Now the HOUSE, yes I will tell you a piece of the HOUSE story, since it is related to the roof story. Once upon a time my brother built a room on the patio and attached it the roof at the back of the house. When I bought the house my youngest, Daryl, was living with me and he tore that room down for me. But in so doing the back of the roofline was left jagged and torn. There was so much work to be done on the property that this jagged roof line was not a priority but something that I needed and wanted fixed. So, with the windstorm moving 'roof repair' to the top of the priority list, that jagged roofline also got fixed, and it looks great!
The windstorm happened in December 2011.

10 days before Christmas Daryl told me that Jasmine; my granddaughter who was 7 at the time; told Santa that she wanted a rag doll for Christmas. Daryl was looking at me with those puppy eyes. I knew what he was thinking.
"Daryl, 10 days is not enough time to make a really cool rag doll."
"Mom, you know you can do it. It's plenty of time for you".
"You are forgeting that I have to go work. Isn't Santa going to bring her a rag doll?"
Yes, Santa is bringing her one but it won't be a nice as what you can do".
Okay, now I was hooked.
"Well, it slows down at work during this time of year, and as long as the phones don't ring, I could work on the doll at work. But why do you want me to make one when Santa is getting her one?"
"Because you and Santa can have a competetion."
Now I was really hooked. "A competition with Santa, humm? Santa and his elves are goin' down!"
So I went to the fabric store and bought the stuff. I cut it all out in the lunch room at work, before my shift. Doll, clothes, everything. I stitched it by hand at my desk, in between calls. Thank goodness that there weren't too may calls. I worked fast. I also embroidered every seam. This is a competition with Santa, after all. Each piece of the doll body was a different fabric. I embroidered shoe laces on the feet/shoes and used rainbow ribbon for shoe laces. All of the clothes were embroidered too. The doll has rainbow yarn hair. Did I mention that this was a 36 inch doll? I took the doll with me every night when I went home. I worked on that doll until 2 and 3 in the morning, then I took a nap and went back to work. I worked non stop  and fast on that doll until she was completed. I finished her on December 23rd., and my shoulder was killing me. I tore my rotator cuff many years ago and working on this doll inflamed my shoulder. So now I am going to the doctor, having MRIs and will discuss further treatment with my doctor. But hey, I won that competition.

All this time, I was supposed to be working on a necklace that I wanted to send in to the magazine. I work closely with one magazine because they have been so good to me and they gave me the courage to teach Nationwide. So here's a shout out to Pam and Joanna of Bead Design Studio, thank you so much. The Necklace, yes, I was supposed to be working on that, and I was but took a break for the doll.  

Then comes a summons for jury duty. Yuck! But that turned out to be life changing for me. I wrote about that and will paste that writing in at the bottom of this post, if I can. I will give it a go.
After jury duty I began drawing again. I finished the necklace but didn't send it in to the magazine because I was not certain that I liked it the way it was. Sometimes I want too much out of something, and sometimes I don't know when to stop. So this necklace is actually 2 ideas in one, and it works but it would work better as two separate pieces. So I am going to take them apart and make them into the two pieces they should be. Then I can finish writing the directions and then send it in to Pam and Joanna and hopefully they will like it; I hope so.

I stopped drawing about 6 or so years ago when I began learning to bead. I got so involved with the beading that I didn't do anything else. I love beading and I love everything about making jewelry, but I neglected this other part of me. I began drawing again after jury duty and I am glad I have. I also joined a watercolor class at the senior center. This class isn't the type of class I need but it is a start and it is free, and right now free is good, because I am still paying off the roof.

Also this year, I lost one of my dogs. I had 3 dogs; a Rottweiler, Lucie; a Doberman, Fawn, and a Pit Bull, Prophet. Luice was the oldest. She was 13 years old this year. On August 18th we had to take her to the vet and put her to sleep. Daryl took her in for me because I could not, I am a wimp.  She had a lovely life. She had a fun life. She had problems with her hip, like all Rotties do.
She had a stroke on August 15th. When I got home from work that night she was very unstable walking, and I noticed her face didn't look right. The next morning I helped her to her feet and she had a hard time getting outside. When we got outside she was confused and very shakey on her legs. I helped her turn around and go inside. I called Daryl and told him that I thought she had stroke and that it was time. Daryl said that he thought I was jumping the gun. I told him okay, that I would stay with her that day and see if she got better. I stayed home from work to nurse Lucie. She tried to get up again, to go outside to potty, but she couldn't make it. She had the look of shame in her face. I told her that it was ok and I stroked her and cleaned her up. I got her onto some towels on her bed and there she stayed. I kept her comfortable and clean, and gave her water. She didn't want to eat. I had some left over pain pills from when Fawn had surgery. I saved them because I knew one day I would need them. She was panting hard so I gave her one pill to put her at ease. I spoke with Daryl again later in the day. He told me that he couldn't take her to the vet until Saturday, the 18th. It was Thursday the 16th.  I told him that is ok, that I was not in any hurry to send her.
Prophet and Fawn are her adopted puppies. They are 11 years old now. We got Prophet when she was 3 weeks old and Fawn when she was 4 months old; so Lucie raised these two other dogs. Both Prophet and Fawn took turns laying down by Lucie. One would each lay there for an hour then trade off. When Prophet wasn't laying down by Lucie, she was guarding the doors and the windows. She usually only guards the one door, but this time she was guarding the entire house.
On Friday, 8-17-12, Lucie had a lot of vistors. I called everyone who loved her and told them what was happening and let them know to come visit if they would like to. Lucie was so happy that day. Everyone came to see her. That night, Fawn slept next to Lucie all night and Prophet guarded the doors and windows. Saturday morning Daryl came with a friend and took Lucie to the vet. Daryl has Lucie's ashes, and I miss her greatly. Fawn and Prophet miss her too. At first they would look at Lucie's bed and walk away. But now they will lay down on the bed. It is a great bed; it is temperpedic, and Fawn actually needs it. Prophet refused to eat the day after Lucie died. But she is better now, and Fawn is better, and they are helping me to be better too. 

                                                          ***
Well, if that wasn't enough to read, here is some more. As I promised, the piece about jury duty and the effect that is had on my life.

Jury Duty 2012          
Deborah McDermott
aka, Juror #6603

     I received a jury duty summons for the week of 3-26-12. I know very few people who get excited about jury duty and I am not one of them. Whenever I have been called I am usually let go the first day. There was only one time that I went through the interview process but again I was released from service. This time that was not the case. I was selected to serve on the jury. I don’t understand why I was selected.

    I arrived at the court house early and found my way to the jury lounge. The door was locked so I took a seat in the hallway. It is good to arrive early because there are very few seats in the hallway and there is always a wait for the door to be unlocked.     

When the door was opened we had to form a line and enter the jury lounge one at a time and turn in our paperwork. I went inside and turned in my paperwork and then took a seat a table near a window. I brought several magazines with me to occupy my time for the day. My name was called and my paperwork was returned to me. I went back to my seat and resumed reading a magazine. Two Chinese men sat down at the table and struck up a conversation with me. Both men said that their English wasn’t very good. One of the men said that his Spanish was better than his English because he lived in Argentina for 16 years. He spoke to me mostly by having the other man interpret for him. The other man said that he owns his own import business in downtown Los Angeles and that he imports furniture and porcelain from China. His English seemed fine to me. He told me that he has never served on a jury because of his poor English. I told him that I only know two people who actually want to serve on a jury; my oldest son and a co-worker. The man was surprised and asked why. I told him that my son studied political science in college and is very interested in the judicial system and that the jury system is crucial to our freedom. I told him that I am glad we have this system but I would prefer not to be called.          

   The woman who works in the jury lounge, stepped out of her office and into the center of the room, and conducted the orientation which included a video of our justice system and jury selection process. Later she called the first group of potential jurors by calling out jury ID numbers. My number was not called.      

    WHEW! I made it through the first one; I thought to myself. One day, one trial. If I make it through the day without being called, I won’t have to worry about it for another year.  A second group was called, and again my number was not called in that group. GREAT! Two down, and now it’s lunch time. Half the day is over.  After lunch, everyone may be dismissed. Or at least I was hoping so.          

    Well, after lunch another group was called and I was in that group, so I had to go the courtroom for the selection process and take my chances on being dismissed from there.

Eighteen people were called to sit in the jury seats. The rest of us remained in the gallery seats. I was not one of the first eighteen people. The judge swore all of us in and then began giving direction. As I sat there I thought to myself; I have no control over this so don’t get stressed out. It is what it is and whatever happens, happens. Then, the judge presented the charges. The case was a domestic violence case, a misdemeanor; it also happened in front of a child. My thoughts were; they can’t keep me. There is no way I could serve on this jury even if I wanted to. First, because I am a social worker with Children’s Protective Services; and also, having been a victim of Domestic Violence in the past.          

The judge began asking questions of the eighteen people in the jury box. The judge also told the rest of us to pay attention because he will be asking us the same questions. Then, the lawyers also asked some questions. This went on for about an hour. Then the judge and the lawyers spoke quietly with each other. After the lawyers went back to their seats, the judge dismissed some of the people in the jury box, including the two Chinese men that sat with me in the jury lounge.   More people were called to fill those seats. I escaped that call as well. The judge then spoke with each of the new potential jurors, and more people were dismissed. It was about 3:45 and court closes at 4:30. My thoughts were; ‘I am almost out of here’; and then my number was called to fill a seat.

I was number fifteen, not yet on the jury. Only 1 through 12 makes it to the jury; numbers 13 and 14 are the alternates.

The judge began to talk to me.          

“State your ID number.”

“6603”         

“Where do you live?” 

“Altadena”          

“What is your marital status?”

“Divorced”          

“How many children do you have?” 

“Three adult children and seven grandchildren”.          

“What is your occupation?”

“Children’s social worker with the Department of Children and Family Services; currently assigned to the Child Abuse Hot Line”.          

“How long have you worked there?”

“Twenty-eight years.”

I heard several people inhale deeply, and the judge leaned back and then forward. “Twenty-eight years?” he asked.          

“Yes sir”.

“So you answer the phones?”  

“Yes, sir”. “

So I suppose you also hear about Domestic Violence?”

“Yes sir, every day, but not only that; I was a victim for 10 years”.          

The courtroom was already quiet but it became an eerie, creepy quiet.

“We will come back to that”; the judge said.

“Okay”, I responded.

The judge continued; “People call in to the hot line and you make an assessment and determine if your department accepts a case?”

“Yes, sir”

“And who calls the hot line? Children?”

“Sometimes children call, but not usually. Usually it is Law Enforcement, teachers, medical personnel, therapists and general members of the community.”

“So mostly mandated reporters?”

“Yes sir”

“So in twenty-eight years it’s safe to say, you’ve heard it all?”

“Yes sir, and then some.”

The judge leaned forward again and asked; “you were a victim of domestic violence for 10 years?”

“Yes sir, unreported.”

“Unreported”; he responded.

“Yes sir”.

“Let me ask you this. In your job, are you able to make your assessments fairly and without bias?”

“Absolutely.”

“How long ago was it that you were a victim?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I know I left in 1977”.

“So that is 30 something years ago. It must be far behind you with that much time?”

 

   I thought for a moment and then said; ‘time doesn’t matter. It doesn’t rule my life, but has affected by life, but time does not really matter.”

  Then the judge said; “but you are able to do your job fairly and without bias.”

“Yes, but I chose working at the hot line rather than working with the families face to face because I did not think I could work face to face without bias.”

The judge responded;

“Obviously you have done well for yourself. You got an education, raised your children, and have worked many years with DCFS.  You got help for yourself, I assume?”

“Yes sir, for many years and for my children too.”

The judge nodded, and then asked me; “Do you think you can listen to the evidence presented in this court without bias?”

“Yes sir. I don’t know what is going to happen. I don’t know if something may get triggered and cause me not to be fair and unbiased. But if that happens I will tell you.”

“Well, we can’t ask for more than that”.                    

   The judge was quiet for a minute and he looked like he was going to address the jury and then he turned to me again and leaned forward and said;

   “I am curious, if this went unreported, how did you manage to get away from it?”     

  “I just knew that if he hit me one more time”; and then I stopped, my thought was; ‘oh shit, I can’t tell him, I can’t say it in court’; but then I found the words; “I just knew what I would do, so I packed up my kids and left”.          

“How many children?” the judge asked.          

“Three”; I responded.          

   The judge, still leaning forward, looked around the courtroom and then looked back at me, and said; “you have more experience in this mater than anyone in this courtroom.”  Then he sat back in his chair.          

I am not supposed to be experienced, jurors are not supposed to be experienced with the situation being tried; or so I thought.          

   The judge faced all of us and told us that the lawyers can remove people from the jury without giving a reason. He said for us not to take in personally. Each lawyer dismissed a person and I was asked to take jury seat number ‘five’. I thought for sure that either one of the lawyers would kick me off the jury but they did not. They decided to keep me. I have no idea why the lawyers wanted me and why the judge allowed it.  My youngest son, Daryl, told me that when I told the judge that I would let him know if something gets triggered, that I just bought myself a front row seat. I was not trying to get kicked off the jury and I was not trying to stay. I was just being honest and trying to accept that ‘it is what it is’ and I have no control over what it is. But for the life of me I could not understand this.          

   One thought that I had was that the defense attorney must think I will be sympathetic to his client because she is a  woman, even though she is the accused. My other thought was that the prosecuting attorney must think I will be sympathetic to the alleged victim because I had been a victim. But I was not going to be sympathetic to either side.            

    The next day I had lunch with my oldest son, David. I told him that I was picked for a jury for a domestic violence case. He said; “no way!”  I told him that I agree and that I was terribly confused. David was very encouraging. He served on a jury before and explained a lot to me. He said that there must be some reason that makes it ok for me to serve on the jury and not to worry about it.  

    The actual trial lasted 2 days and we had one day of deliberations. During this time some jury members made friends and would go to lunch together. I would see many of them talking to each other. No one spoke to me. That was fine by me. I’m a loner anyway, most of the time. I didn’t initiate conversation with them either. But they were very respectful to me, opening doors and moving chairs for me. I thought this was odd but it was kind. I think I was the oldest person on the jury and I felt like a grandmother with the plague. That is until the last day.          

    I went to lunch with my youngest son. I told him that none of the jurors spoke to me but they would speak to each other. Daryl said; “don’t worry about it mom, but know that you are their topic of conversation”. “I don’t want to be their topic of conversation”. Then Daryl said; “think about it. You were telling this story in the courtroom, and it was like reading a book, and they were waiting for the next word to be read. You don’t understand what a story your life is.” 

“Well they just got a glimpse, not even a full chapter.” Then Daryl said, “I know that and you know that but they don’t know that”.          

    On the second day of the trial, the trial ended at about 3:30. We, the jury, went to the jury room to begin deliberations. The room was quite small with a large round table with 12 chairs around it. There were two restrooms, one on either side of the main room. There was a small table with a coffee pot, coffee and cups. There was just enough room to walk around the table to take a seat. The bailiff gave us a packet with a copy of the charges and the instructions that the judge had already read to us. There was another packet with photos that were evidence, and a packet for writing down the verdict. There were two charges and we had to deliberate both of them.          

   As we were sitting down a woman asked if anyone wanted to be chairperson and then she quickly said that she would do it.  We all agreed that she could since she wanted to do it. She seemed rushed and hurried. The time was about 3:45 and the court was closing at 4:30. There was no way we were going to reach a verdict in 45 minutes. The chair-person wanted to take a vote immediately. The night before, I was thinking about how to be a chair-person if I ended up in that role. My thought was the same, to take a vote at the beginning to find out where people stand. But in the handout of jury responsibilities it said not to do this, that we must talk about it first. Most everyone was a bit taken aback by the immediate request for a vote. Some people spoke up. Then the chair-person said that this is not a real vote, it is just to see where we all are on the matter. So we took an anonymous vote. We were completely split. 6 guilty, 5 not guilty, 1 undecided. This was a good place to begin.        

  

    Suddenly, most everyone was talking. There was a great deal of energy. The people that were talking were somewhat scattered in what they were saying. Since this was the first time that any of us were able to even speak about the case, some people needed to let it out. So it flowed and over flowed. The chair person and I disagreed at first and bantered a bit and then I began to feel somewhat like a referee, ‘slash’, educator. With what some of what was being said I could see that some and most of the people knew nothing of family dynamics. One gentleman said that none of this made since to him because he wouldn’t have behaved that way in this situation. I told him that it is not about him and what he would do. I also did not want to offend him, so I also said that it is not about me and what I would do. I told him that each person in the room would have done a completely different thing and that it was not about what any of us would do, it was about what these people did on this particular day. One gentleman looked right at me and said; ‘you’re a social worker, you hear this all time.” And then he went on asking why this and why that and why did the police do this and not that. I was glad that I could answer some of their questions and help calm them down. It was a lot of work and I was exhausted at the end of this first 45 minutes, and when I got home I needed another nap. I was taking naps each day when I got home. I never expected this to be so much work.      

It was 4:30 and time to leave. We were instructed to be back at court in the morning to continue deliberations.          

    That evening when I got home I was thinking about the case and going over what I remember of the testimony. Then I realized that I most likely took a referral for this family. Some of the family member’s names were very unusual; and the officer’s name was unusual too, and I vaguely remembered taking a referral with those names. I could not be certain, because in my work you begin to think that you have heard everyone’s names and all of these stories can run together, but then again it is at least a 50-50 chance, and it felt more like 90%, that I took the referral on this particular family for this particular incident and I had to inform the judge. I was ambivalent about telling the judge, I wasn’t sure that it was important. I thought if I did not tell the judge and it was important then it may ruin the case and also reflect poorly on me and possibly DCFS,  so I decided to tell him. I knew that he would ask me if this would create a bias for me and I knew the answer was no.        

   The next morning I arrived early at the court house. I went upstairs and took a seat in the hallway outside of the court room. Other jurors arrived and took seats as well. I was waiting for the bailiff because I needed to talk to him. When the bailiff came to see if we were all there I told him that I needed to speak with him in private. He took me to a private area and I told him my concern and he said he would inform the judge. The bailiff told me that the judge will most likely call me into the court room to talk to me.  I went back to the hallway and took a seat with the rest of the jurors.          

    The woman who was our chair-person sat down next to me and began talking to me. She asked me about my job and she told me about hers. She said that she works at an upscale retirement home for women. I think her position there is much like a case manager. She has worked there several years. She told me that she would like to work more closely with families. She asked me if she could get my phone number after we finish at court. I told her that I should give it to her now because I needed to talk to the judge and I did not know if he would allow me to stay. So she took my name and phone number. We continued our conversation until the bailiff came and took us all to the deliberation room.          

   The judge called me to the court room. The bailiff told the other jurors not to deliberate while I was not there. I explained my concern to the judge. The judge asked me if I do any investigations in my course of work. I said that I did not. He also asked me if the investigating social worker reports their findings back to me. I told him that they do not. He asked me if anything that I think I may have learned in this case would cause me to be biased. I told him that it would not. He then asked me if I had discussed this with any of the jurors and I told him I had not. He thanked me for that and asked me not to talk to the other jurors about it and said that I could stay on the jury. I was really happy; happy that I decided to speak up and tell him, and happy that I could stay on the jury.          

   Our deliberations were much different than the day before. People were calmer and were able to take each piece of evidence and each argument one at a time. The Chair-person took control and was a great guide through the reading of the charges and breaking down the law piece by piece. Each of us sorted out our opinions from evidence and applied the law to the evidence and by 11:45 we had a verdict on the first count. The second count was easier and very clear and we were all unanimous on the second count from the onset. So we had our verdicts. It was noon and we called for the bailiff to inform him that we had a verdict.

 

    The bailiff came to the deliberation room and told us that we were to take our lunch break and that we would meet back in the deliberation room and wait for the judge to call us into the court room.

Everyone went downstairs and was leaving for lunch. I went to the ladies room on the first floor only to find a do not enter sign at the door. So I took the elevator up to the second floor to use the ladies room there. When I walked in, the defendant was there washing her hands. She looked at me with a half-smile and slightly nodded. I did not smile or nod. I just noticed that she was there and I walked into the stall. When I left, she was gone. It was a strange meeting. I could see no reason for her to be on the second floor since our courtroom is on the third floor and there is a restroom there. I was on the second floor by chance, only due to the closure of the restroom on the first floor. I wondered if she went to the second floor to stay away from the jurors; and then I was there. I may be making too much of this chance meeting but I do not think so. She is young, and hopefully getting out of the abusive relationship she has been in for the last ten years. I am not so young, but I am free. She is what could have been my past, but I got out before anyone ended up arrested, or worse. Hopefully, my story, my partial story that I shared in the courtroom can help her find her future. I mentioned to my friend, Diane, and to my oldest granddaughter, Kiara, in regards to being on this jury; I have felt like I was standing on a platform at a train station and that I stepped onto the train and when I did I stepped into the twilight zone. It has been the strangest feeling, and I am taking the time to process it and understand it.

Every thing happens for a reason.

There is a mutual purpose for every person met on our life’s journey.

It is up to us to pay attention and figure it out if we can.  

After the lunch break I went back to the third floor and waited outside of the courtroom. Other jurors were gathering there as well. Another juror approached me and told me that she admired me. I thanked her. She told me that she admires the work that I do and that I give back to the community every day and have done so for so many years. She also said that she admires what I have done with my life and for my children. She acknowledged that many and most women don’t get out of abusive relationships, and certainly don’t get as far as I have in life. Again, I thanked her. I asked her about herself and she told me where she works and that she and one of her sisters are the caretakers for her mother who had a stroke last year. I told her that what she is doing for her mother is remarkable, that not everyone would do that. She asked me about my children and if they live nearby. Just then, the woman who was our chair-person joined us. I told the first woman that my children do live nearby and I get to see them and my grandchildren regularly. She asked me how old my children are and I told her that my youngest son will be 40 in September, my older son is 43, and my daughter is 46. Both women looked at me with the look I always get when I say the ages of my children.   She also asked me what work they do. I told both women that my daughter is a retired teacher; that she taught for 10 years but had to retire due to long term injuries from a near fatal auto accident in 1990. I told them that my oldest son is also a teacher and teaches 4th grade, and that my youngest son owns his own business cleaning swimming pools. I told them that they are all doing well and that my grandchildren all live in ‘no hit’ households and know nothing of any kind of abuse.

   The one juror asked me about my children’s healing process when they were children and I told her.  The chair-person asked me if I thought 30 was too old to have children. I said of course not. You are more mature at 30 and can handle it better. She said, “yes and there is usually more money.” “Yes, that too”, and then I said, “I had all of my children by the time I was 21, and I didn’t start college until after I left”.   I felt this is what she wanted to know. “Were you married when you had your children? “ she asked. I just told her that I got married at 17. There was no reason to go into everything else. Besides, she has my phone number and if we end up friends, she will know the entire story.

I didn’t feel like I had the plague anymore. People were talking to me. I didn’t mind answering their questions. I am used to it. I did feel strange, because I felt special and that is uncomfortable for me. I don’t see myself as special or extraordinary. I am where I am due to determination and hard work, and those things are available to everyone if they accept them.

    The bailiff came and escorted us back to the deliberation room. We were only there a few minutes, but while we were there a few of the men had questions for me so I answered their questions. One gentleman said that he would love to talk to me at length about what I do and my history. I was impressed; men don’t usually say that to me. It is usually the women.  I just smiled and nodded.

    One woman mentioned the defendant’s children and her concern for what may happen to the children. I told her that was out of our hands and that we had to follow the letter of the law and that it is up to the judge to be compassionate, not us. We found the defendant ‘not guilty’ of the harsher crime, and ‘guilty’ of the lesser crime. Even if she were guilty of the incident, there was not enough evidence to come to a guilty verdict beyond a reasonable doubt, with the evidence at hand. I did not walk into that deliberation room thinking that I would vote the way I did. But the law is clear once we read it, and applied it, and I feel absolutely certain that I and the other jurors followed the law and the verdict is correct.

   The judge called for us to come to the courtroom. As we stood up one man reached out to shake my hand and he said that he wanted to tell me that it was a pleasure and an honor to meet me and he wanted me to know that in case he didn’t have a chance to tell me after court. Most of the other jurors followed with the same. I told them that it was a pleasure and an honor for me too, to meet them and to serve with them.

We went to the courtroom and the judge read the verdict. The judge dismissed us and told us that if anyone wanted to talk to the defendant we could wait in the hall. I thought about it but thought it best to leave.

As we left the courtroom, the defendant had tears in her eyes and said thank-you to each of us as we walked out.

This time I gave her a slight nod as I walked by.

  

    As I left the courthouse, I stopped for a moment at the steps. An intense feeling washed over me. I turned back and looked again at the courthouse, and thought about the judge who allowed me to stay. Thank you, I whispered.

    On my way home from court, I ran some errands, and I sent Kiara a text telling her that jury duty was over. Later I picked her up from Pasadena City College where she attends. Kiara is 17 years old and in her second semester of college. As soon as she got in to the car she asked; “can you talk about the case now?”  “Yes, I can”; and so I told her about it.

    She was quiet for some time and then she spoke. “This case, and your being on this jury is an acknowledgement that your experience is important in helping people, and an affirmation for everything our family has gone through.”

  “Ya know, Kiara, I have the strangest feeling. When I left the court house I felt great, exhilarated and washed clean. I don’t understand why I feel washed clean. It is the feeling I was hoping to get, but did not get, when I got baptized when I was 15 years old.  It feels beyond wonderful.”

Kiara responded; ”it sounds like you need to call Sharon.”

“I already did. I called her the day I was picked for the jury and told her that I was going to keep a journal of it and then come in for a session when it was over.              

  “Good idea Gramma.”  

                                                                                      ******             

             I called Sharon and left her a voice mail to let her know that I was dropping off a copy of my journal entry. I asked her to read it and call me so that I could make an appointment to come in.  A few days later Sharon called me and told me that her earliest open appointment was in two weeks, so I took it.

       “I really want to talk with you about this, Debbie. This is really exciting!"

Sharon’s voice was exuberant. I could hear the smile in her voice.             

"So I will see you in 2 weeks."            

"Yes, I will be there".       

       The next day I was talking with Daryl on the phone and told him that I was going in to see Sharon.      

"You still see her?", he asked.     

"Yes, I see her about three or four times a year".       

"Why don't you just go have coffee with her or something?"    

"I can't, if I do that, then our relationship would change, and I need her to remain my therapist. Can you imagine trying to break in another one. They would want me to start all over and that is just a waste of time."     

"Do you really think you still need therapy?"    

"No, but if something does happen I may actually need therapy and she is there. Usually I just check in and let her know how everyone is doing. We do a little work, but it is usually just to say hi or to visit for birthdays and Christmas. But now, I really need her for clarification on what is going on with me. I am so excited about this and I need her to help me to understand it."    

Diana, my daughter, also called me while I was waiting to see Sharon. I don't often hear from Diana and I don't call her very often either. It isn't that we don't want to talk to each other, it is just her health or lack of it that prevents us from seeing each other or speaking to each other very often.  I have learned not to take this personally. I used to, but I know that if she is having a good day, she will call me; and when I leave her voice mails I know she will return the call when she is feeling well enough.     I told Diana that I had been on a jury. She was excited. And then I told her it was a domestic violence case. She chuckled and almost screamed into the phone; "you lied to the judge!".

"I did not".

"You did, you had to lie, or you bribed him."

"I did not. I told him the truth and he kept me."

"The lawyers kept you too?"

"Yes."

"They must have really wanted to fry the guy".

"It was a woman."

"Really?"

"Yes".    

 I told Diana about what happened at court and the feelings I was having. She asked me to send her a copy of my journal entry. So I did. She asked me if I were

going to see Sharon, and I told her "of course". It's funny, my entire family including my brother and nephew had the same reaction about my serving on this jury.   

           Finally, Thursday evening, April 19, I had my appointment with Sharon. Sharon was standing at the door waiting for me. She was wearing a red hat. She loves hats and they look fantastic on her.  Her smile engulfed her entire being. She was radiant. We went inside and sat in our usual places. She just sat there smiling, waiting for me to begin.

"I am so happy!"

"You look happy", she said.

"You read it, right?"

"Of course I read it; her smile grew even bigger; this is very exciting!"

"I can't believe the judge let me stay on this jury".

"At first, I was surprised too. But as I read it I saw why he allowed you to stay."

"I still don't see it".

"He asked you a lot of questions and he saw your integrity. He recognized your strength and honesty, and he saw you. He saw that you would not be influenced by anyone or anything. He saw in you what I see in you and what other people see in you and what I have been hoping all of these years that you will see in yourself."

"I see it".

"I think you see it now, but you have always said that you see it, but you haven't. You always push back and say to yourself, 'but you don't really know me, if you really knew me you wouldn't think so highly of me; isn't that right?"     

"Yes, it is. One of the things I wrote about is how the jurors made me feel special and that I have a difficult time feeling that, and that I don't think that I am special at all. But when I read it over a few times I realized that I am special, because even though everyone has access to do the work if they want to, most people won't do it, and I did, and that is what makes me special."     

 Sharon responded; "They are afraid to do the work. I see so many people who are too afraid. They don't have the courage that you have".     

" I had to muster the courage. I didn't have a choice. I had those kids and I could not leave them in this world without a mother. They were my only reason to take another breath, so I didn't have much of a choice. I had to do the work. It was for them. I worked hard in therapy for them.”

Sharon was thoughtful and said; "I remember".   Then she asked me; ‘when did it change and become for you?”

“I’m not sure, maybe somewhere in the middle. My going to school, and everything, was for them. I am not sure when I became important enough for it to be for me.

(this is important to me, I need to sit with this for a while and find when and why it became for me)

"Looking back, I can now see how absolutely worthless I felt because of those people, and how so unfair that was to me. At that time I could not see the depth of worthlessness that engulfed me, but I can see it now and my heart breaks for who I used to be. And now I have this feeling of being washed clean. Why do I have this feeling?"     

"Let's look at that. What do you think it’s about?”

“I don’t know. That is why am I here. I need you to help me. At first I thought it was just excitement and neurotransmitters, and I thought it would pass in a while, but it didn’t, it stayed with me for several days. Then I noticed that it was gone and I thought, ’oh, it was just fleeting, and it was nice while it lasted‘. But then it immediately came back and it has stayed with me.”  

“Let me ask you this. When the feeling went away, how long was it gone and what was going on in your life at that time?”

“It only went away for about a day, and I was just busy with life and things I had to do.”

Sharon nodded, and said; “When it slips away like that, it is just in the background. It is still there, and it will always be there. This is really important for you to remember. That it will always be there even when you don’t feel it in any given moment, it is still there.”

I nodded and said “ok, but what is it? Why do I have this feeling of being washed clean?”

Sharon leaned forward again, and I could see the intensity in her expression. She said, “you have finally forgiven yourself. After all this time, you have forgiven yourself. This is what I have always hoped for, for you.”

“That’s why I feel so wonderful and happy?”

“Yes”.

“I never thought I would get here. I wanted to get here but I thought it was not for me and that was okay with me. Life has been so good and I have been happy these last few years and my family is doing so well. I don’t worry about my children anymore. They have all arrived. They are all standing on their own feet, and I am able to let go of them and relax; and my grandchildren are treated so well. I thought that if this is as a good as it gets, then I will take it because it is really good. I never expected this feeling. It was so unexpected. It seemed to have come out of no where. It wasn’t there and then there it was, and I feel great.”

“Can you see this judge and your serving on this jury as a metaphor for your life?

“What do you mean?”

“The judge saw you. He saw your innocence. He found you worthy to sit on this jury. Not just any jury, but this jury, and it had to be this jury. This judge found you not guilty; and then you were on this jury.”

I didn’t think Sharon’s smile could get any bigger, but it did and she continued;

“ You sat on your own jury and judged yourself and found yourself not guilty.”

“Oh my God, that’s what I did. That’s why this entire thing has been so surreal, it feels divine. It’s like my spirit guide was sitting around and said ‘it’s time’, so he painted this picture and put me in it.”

“Yes, it’s perfect. You had to be on this jury. No one could have orchestrated this. No one could even write it as a script.”

“This judge, I really liked him. He is so smart”.

Sharon chuckled and said; ‘yes he is’.

“He was also kind; I could tell that he was kind and fair and compassionate, and that he really deserved to be a person that judges people. I trusted him. And he judged me, and that freed me to find myself not guilty.”

“Yes!”; Sharon exclaimed.

“Now I feel ‘unzipped’, like there is this big zipper down the front of me and it has been unzipped and I have been opened up. I feel like I am standing there, completely opened up with my arms spread out to either side of me; completely open.”

“That’s because you now trust the world and yourself in it. You are standing in the most powerful position anyone can stand in; arms open out to the sides. That is the ultimate position of strength, and power, and trust. Having no fear and nothing can harm you. You will also be able to recognize when a person is good or not. You will see. When you are that open, you can see the truth in another person.”

Sharon had tears in her eyes, she was crying.

“Are you ok?,” I asked.

“Yes, I just had this vision of when you were a little girl and you were dancing and twirling with your father. I see the trust and innocence that you had then. You are that person again, and it is moving.”

“ I let myself go back there, to my father. I was so small, and he was so tall and I felt so safe with him. I understood what Sharon was saying .”

“Sharon, I heard everything you said but some of it is difficult to hold on to and I want to hold on to it, so can you repeat a few things so that I will not forget them?”

“Of course.”

So Sharon and I went over a few things to make sure I could hold on to them.

Sharon asked; ‘what else can you do to make sure you remember these things?”

“I will write it and read it over a few times”.

“That’s good. What about a drawing? Isn’t it time you did some drawings?”

“Yes, it has been a while hasn’t it? And I have a lot of images in my mind.”

“ I am sure you do.”

“Ok, I will do some drawings and bring them in.”

“ I can’t wait to see them.”

“ Before we end, I was thinking of sending the judge a copy of my journal entry. Do you think that would be ok?”

Sharon beamed, “yes, I think that is a fabulous idea. I think he would really appreciate it.”

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome, and it is time for me to go home.”

We both smiled and hugged, and we both went home.

                                         *****

Well, that makes up for not writing the blog for almost a year. As I said I have madea  commitment to write every Friday. Wish me luck, I may need it. I will do my best.

TTFN, again ta ta for now for those of you who have not read Winnie The Pooh

Today I go back to work. It has been a lovely week and I have enjoyed every second of it. Yesterday I had to get back into the mindset of 'having to get these done'. Yes, I had to finish the laundry and get ready to go to work today.
I usually do not talk about my job and I will probably only talk about it this one time. I do not like to talk about my job and I don't like to listen to my friends who are coworkers talk about the job either, but they talk about it a lot. 
I work as a social worker with Los Angeles County Dept of Children and Family Services. I am lucky, I do not knock on doors. I am an intake evaluator at the Child Protection Hotline. I answer the phone and take the complaints and assess if the complaint warrants an in person response and then assign an appropriate response time. I listen to stories of child abuse all day and when I have my lunch break and when I go home I don't want to talk about it or listen to it. However, all of the social workers that I know ALWAYS talk about it. They talk about it at lunch, on the way home, at parties, at BBQs and homes of retired social workers and on vacations and they tell others about the job when on vacation. When I am on vacation I say I am an artist because I am and I don't want to talk about the job that actually supports me and has supported my family.
Please do not misunderstand me, I love my job and I do a good job. I take it seriously and care about the kids we try to protect. BUT it does not define who I am am and there is a whole lot more that makes up who I am, so when I am around my soicial worker friends and collegues I take a deep breath and just listen. When there is a group of us I just listen, I don't talk. Most of them think that I do not have anything to add to the conversation because almost all of them have worked in the field and have knocked on those doors and I have been at the hot line since 1988. I did knock on a few doors for training and I know that I have been blessed having beern assigned to the hot line. As difficult as it is to listen to that garbage all day it is no way near as difficult a job as for the social workers that knock on doors. There have been times when I have asked one of my children, now adults, to listen to me about a particulary hard day.  They will usually also take a deep breath and then listen. But most often I just call them on the phone and tell them to let me talk to my grandchildren a while and then send them all kisses and hugs. I must have a particular sound in my voice when I NEED to send my grandkids hugs and kisses because all three of my children have said,'had a bad day mom?'
So you see this is probably the only time I will ever mention my job and the work I do there. I will talk about the people I work with because they are GREAT people, FUN people, WARPT people, and I LOVE them. Yes warpt, how could we not be and the ones who have worked in the field are shell shocked and may never recover and I may ALWAYS have to listen to their war stories, but that is the least I can do since I have been blessed to be able to avoid the front lines.

SInce I am returning to work today I will probaly only have time to write this blog on Fridays, so that is the plan for now.
TTFN