Living Happily Ever After

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Be True No Matter What

“I prefer to be true to myself, even at the hazard of incurring the ridicule of others, rather than to be false and to incur my own abhorrence.” (Frederick Douglass)

Step 5: Hold your head up and be true to who you are no matter what.

Boy, for me in the wake of the destruction of 2009, this proved to be a hard one. It was NOT fun!

I remember the first Sunday after our life ended, my children looked at me and said, “We don’t have to go to church today, do we?” (None of us wanted to face our congregation for the first time after such a disaster.) And I had to be the one to say, “Yes, we are going.” Honestly, it wasn’t fun. In truth, it was awful. Not just the uncomfortable and awkward, but having my oldest sit on the pew and cry during the meeting while my middle son sat and drew on a piece of paper, “There’s a hole where my heart used to be” was terrible. I was grief stricken and disgraced, but we went to church because it was who we were. In life, you have to do that.

What I didn’t expect was an even greater challenge. A moment of temptation to be someone I was not and never had been.

Stay tuned.

House Rules

“If you develop rules, never have more than ten.” (Donald Rumsfeld)

I’ve been asked to share my house rules. By request, here they are.

1. Family first. This means family first, friends second and family takes priority. We love each other and will seek to spend time with each other to make happy memories and strengthen our bonds for the future.

2. Participate in family meals, unless at work, school or church activity, because studies show families that eat regular meals together have more successful children. Please keep all food and drink, except water, confined to the kitchen area.

3. Be respectful of one another, communicate without yelling or profanity, strive to be cheerful, kind and pleasant. No slamming of doors, borrowing without asking, stealing–and please clean up after yourself (leave no trace!) Remove shoes upon entering our home.

4. Honor curfew because “after midnight you’re on the devil’s time.”  (That’s what my parents always told me, and my grandparents taught them.) No sleepovers, instead you may participate in “late nights.”

5. Attend church on Sunday, mid-week church activities, participate in church recognition programs.

6. Music, movies and video games are to be family appropriate. No “R” ratings. No internet use without a “buddy” when parents aren’t home.

7. No alcohol, cigarettes, drugs or their usage in the home or out of the home. Family members will submit to drug testing at the parents’ discretion.

8. Practice the life skills that ensure self-reliance: 1. emotional health (family members will go to counseling at the parents’ discretion); 2. financial health (don’t go into debt, eat at home as much as possible, pay 10% tithing, children save 50% of their earnings for college, parents will provide opportunities to develop talents as financially able, no allowance given–everyone is required to help with tasks around the house as it takes every family member to keep our family functioning and our home running smoothly); 3. physical health (eat at home as much as possible–not only is it cheaper, it’s healthier, go to bed at the appropriate time for your age established by parents, stay active); 4. get an education (your job is to focus on your education and learn all you can and do what you need to do to earn good grades); 5. work (everyone of age to work will have a job).

Clearly, “There are some good rules and there are some lousy rules.” (Harold Pinter)

But that’s life at our house.

And here’s the philosophy behind the rules:

Parenting is no popularity contest. As a parent, it’s my job to do everything I can to help my children be successful living our family rules which in turn will prepare them to be successful adults and enjoy happy and successful lives.

My efforts are based on my belief that basic needs (love, food and shelter) are a child’s right and I’m happy to provide them. But I believe everything else is a privilege and must be earned as children prove themselves through their obedience and performance (i.e.. their obedience to our family rules, academic performance, a good attitude, self-control, good behavior and good choices that show they are trustworthy, successful at enjoying their current level of freedom and privileges and are ready to attempt to be successful at the next level.)

Wrong choices, disobedience and setbacks based on behavior and poor choices result in consequences. I hate letting children experience consequences! As a person, I think it’s miserable to have to refrain from helping my children out of their troubles and as a parent, it’s painful to watch, but because I love them I have to allow them to learn from their mistakes. I think it’s the only way to help them learn to be successful. (And I’d much rather have them “fail” while they’re young, than continue to fail as adults because they didn’t learn what they needed to. I’d much rather have them get an “F” in elementary school for not doing their work, than have them lose a job as an adult because they weren’t doing their work.)

My parenting is somewhat based on love and logic. (My thanks to Jim Fay and Foster Kline, proponents of “Love and Logic.”) There are rules and expectations and there are consequences, consequences that will bring happiness and privileges when children make the right choices and other consequences should they choose disobedience.

My children have some input as to their consequences. For example, if they don’t clean their room possible consequences (some brainstormed/chosen by me, some chosen by them) include: temporarily losing their bedroom door until the room is tidy again, me coming in with a trash bag and collecting all of the mess into the sack and then they have to earn things back item by item by doing small extra jobs for me, me helping them clean their room and in return working extra time for me for the same amount of time I spent helping them do their job, or being “grounded” to their room until the work is done. I try to have the consequence connect to the choice. The key is to provide consequences both of us can live with and to providing more than one option/consequence so they have a choice. I also always try to have one of the consequences be a ridiculous option that makes them laugh, if I can.

And because I think there is far too little of people taking credit for their choices in life (it seems like everyone always wants to blame someone else), I’ve always made it a priority to teach personal responsibility as well. I want my kids to own their mistakes and not seek to blame others for their misfortune. When my oldest was little and experienced a time out he began to accuse, “YOU are doing this to me! YOU are making me have a time out!” so I quickly learned to teach him the role he played in it. I’ve even been known to ask them, “Who brought this upon you? Who actually is doing this to you?” just so they realize it was their choice that landed them their consequence.

And the whole “it’s not fair” thing doesn’t fly at our house, and never has. When my older children were little and shared that with me, I was quick to agree: “You’re so right! Life isn’t fair! We already know that, don’t we? If life were fair, I’d have a dad!” (I’m such a terrible mother to dash that childhood dream that life is fair. Sadly, that’s one thing my children have known at an early age although I had to laugh one day when a young child in my home uttered that and another young child, not much older, agreed, “Yes, life isn’t fair! If it were, mom would still have her dad.” I guess I taught that one a little too well, huh?)

But the great thing about all this? It’s all up to my children! I show them the way and help establish expectations and consequences with them, but they get to choose the type of life they live; they get to choose to be successful or not— and they quickly see that it’s much more pleasant to buckle down, get their work done, meet their responsibilities and enjoy freedom and privileges instead of choosing painful consequences and loss of privileges that result in childhood misery and woe! (I know, I know, my children aren’t going to have any stories of having to walk to school through two miles of snow but they WILL have stories about having me as their mother, I’m sure! And if those don’t suffice in showing they were sufficiently traumatized by the misfortune of their life in the parenting department, they can always play the losing-everything-to-a-Ponzi-scheme card! Lol. Just kidding. Hopefully they will always seek to be forward looking and choose to see how they’ve been blessed by the hard stuff to become even better than they would otherwise have been rather than dwell on any misery that came their way.)

But there you have it: what I do and why I do it. Aren’t you glad you don’t have to live at my house?

Oh. I should add that I try to do all of the above with humor, lots of laughter and hugs and love, without yelling (I am NOT a fan of losing control to the point of yelling or getting physical in a negative way) as well as dancing with my children whenever possible!

“Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music.” (Angela Monet)

Loss

“And yet, I suppose you mourn the loss or the death of what you thought your life was, even if you find your life is better after. You mourn the future that you thought you’d planned.”  (Lynn Redgrave)

It has been two years since my unexpected life began. I haven’t been haunted by the events that led to it for quite some time and then out of the blue, unexpectedly, I dreamed of a moment connected to it (not one of my favorite moments, by the way) and I could not shake the memory of it when I awoke.

The experience I dreamed of occurred a few weeks after certain events ended my life as I knew it. One ramification of the unexpected situation was that I was released from serving as president of the women’s organization of my church congregation. Another ramification of it was that due to the public nature of my former husband’s crimes and positions of leadership he had held within our church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, local church leadership determined it was necessary to publicly address some of it to congregations our family had been closely associated with. My church leaders were very kind about it all; they told me it was necessary and explained why; they told me the day they were going to do it so I could be prepared (and probably, if I were smarter and raised by different parents, so that I could be absent from those meetings that day.) But unfortunately, I had been taught differently than that–taught to face what needs to be faced and that trials and tragedy don’t change what is right or what is expected of us.

It was a poignant lesson I learned in 1986 when my dad unexpectedly died in a plane crash. I was a teenager and dreaded going to church that Sunday after he died. He had been a leader in our congregation and I didn’t want to face people (even people I loved or people who loved me and my family) and I had a sneaking suspicion my mom was planning that our family would attend church. Late Saturday night I asked, “We don’t have to go to church tomorrow, do we?”

My mom was firm in her resolve and her answer. “Of course we do! Just because your dad isn’t here doesn’t mean the rest of us can stop living and it certainly doesn’t change what is right. We believe in going to church on Sunday, that is what we have always done and that is what we will continue to do.” She was a strong woman in a gentle kind of way (I don’t want to make her sound harsh–she was anything but that.) She took our family to church despite the loss we’d experienced just two days previously (although she relented a little bit and let us arrive 5 minutes late so we wouldn’t have to talk to anyone before the meeting.)

Interestingly, when our unexpected life began, one of my children asked me a question very similar to the one I’d asked my own mother 23 years before, “Mom, we don’t have to go to church this Sunday, do we?” and I gave an answer very similar to the one my mom had given me and we went to church and continued to attend each Sunday, regardless of some uncomfortable moments.

Like the Sunday I dreamed of recently. The Sunday I had to sit and endure public comments about my personal situation that was so public– comment about my former spouse’s crimes and the situation he created as a result. It was also the day the new presidency of the women’s organization of our congregation publicly recognized me, gave me a bouquet of flowers and thanked me for my service; and then after that, the leader of our cluster of congregations (known as a stake president) stood and addressed the issues that needed to be publicly discussed. I don’t remember a lot about that day, I mostly remember sitting in the back of the room, tears of grief, shame, humiliation, sorrow (and a host of other feelings and emotions) streaming down my cheeks as I stared at the beautiful flowers in my lap and endured what was being said to the women around me. I do remember a woman sitting by me on the back row, patting my arm or giving my shoulder a squeeze, through the whole thing. I can’t remember who she was, but how much I appreciated her kindness to me at that time! She helped me feel slightly less alone and helped me get through a very difficult moment.

That was a tough experience but I got through it and it’s now a part of my past. I honestly haven’t let myself think too much about it, or look back on it, until that recent morning when I woke up, tears streaming down my face. And #5 was asleep next to me in bed!

I was shocked. It has been two years! I am living a new life, remarried to a wonderful man, and I wake up crying over something that happened two years ago? I felt a little bit crazy. I didn’t want #5 to see, or know, he was married to such a wacky wife that dreamed about the past and woke up crying! I confess, I even felt a little bit guilty as I am the recipient of many miracles and kindness and have much to be thankful for; I have the great blessing to be remarried and am truly happy again–I can’t (or shouldn’t) be crying about the past (even if it was unintentional–something I woke up doing in a dream!)

I quickly got up to hide my insanity, pulled myself together and went on about my day. Except that I couldn’t quite shake the feelings that dream left me with. I felt slightly emotionally “off.” And that was just the start of the day.

“Going back to Ireland involves at least six to seven emotional breakdowns for me per day.” (Anjelica Huston)

Stay tuned. More emotional breakdowns to come.

My Ellis Island

“Choose your new name carefully. Practice signing with it. Have a few people close to you call you by that name, and see how you like it. You can change your first name, middle name, last name, or all of the above. Just make sure your new name doesn’t imply “fraudulent intent” or is not in the public interest.” (wikiHow)

I took more time off work and returned to the Social Security Office the very next morning. I thought, since they closed at 4 p.m., that they’d open at 8 a.m. but I was wrong. I waited an hour for the doors to open, took a number (I was first in line and got the first number of the day), and stepped forward to wait my turn.

As I stood there waiting for my number to be called, the only clerk helped someone. Then another person. Then another. I finally stepped forward and asked, “Excuse me, are you calling numbers?”

The clerk looked at me with a blank expression. I explained, “The guard told us to take a number as we walked through the door, you have several signs posted that direct us to take numbers, but I haven’t heard you call any numbers…”

Despite the full waiting room, they hadn’t been calling numbers. But they decided to help me next anyway. I stepped forward, thoroughly prepared for the name change (after all, it was my second attempt to change my name at the Social Security Office; I’d had an additional wait I hadn’t planned on which gave me time to make sure I’d filled everything out correctly) and handed the clerk my paperwork. The paperwork to add “Ramsey” to my name, to make it my new and official last name.

Unfortunately, the clerk had a problem with it. “It’s too long,” she said.

“What?”

She showed me that her computer screen had three boxes: first name, middle name, and last name; with a limited number of characters per box. My proposed name was too long for the Social Security Administration computers! She told me I could have three names. I asked, “Wait a second–what about the famous people and movie stars who name their children 5-6 names? How do they do that, if my 34 letter name is too long?”

She said she didn’t know, but I had these options: my maiden name with the addition of “Ramsey,” “Andrea Merriman Ramsey” (without any part of my middle or maiden names),  ”Andrea Merriman-Ramsey” (but I’d have to sign that long last name every time I signed my name, not to mention it would give me a last name different than my children AND my husband!), Andrea L.C. Merriman Ramsey,” “Andrea L.C.M. Ramsey,” and a few other options. I stood at the counter, suddenly unprepared, facing a huge decision that was going to follow me every day of my life, and feeling pressure to hurry because I had to get to work and I knew other people in the room were waiting!

It was my own, personal Ellis Island.

But there wasn’t time to choose my name carefully because I had already carefully chosen my name and it had been rejected by the government, I had to get to work and people were waiting for me to make a decision and complete my business. I never thought to practice signing it. And at that point in my life, I was being called by pretty much anything and everything–no one was sure what I was going to go by. In fact, one Sunday the program at church one listed me by one name in one spot and a different name in a different spot!

Basically, it came down to the fact that I could use my maiden name (the name my church records used and the name of my parents, my ancestors and my heritage) or Merriman (the name of the man I wasn’t married to anymore.) In that moment, that spur of the moment, I chose my heritage. Merriman was gone.

Second marriage moment #6.

“I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have changed several times since then.” (Lewis Carroll, Alice In Wonderland)

Gaps

“I got gaps; you got gaps; we fill each other’s gaps.” (“Rocky”)

If #5 isn’t having a second marriage moment, I’m right there to have one for him. (Or vice versa.) I guess you could say we fill each other’s gaps in more ways than one! I believe the next second marriage moment came right on the heels of the previous one.

The Sunday #5 and I gave our talks in church, a leader of our congregation pulled us aside and asked us to teach the Marriage and Family Relations class they wanted to offer as part of the Sunday School program. Of course we said we’d do it, but as the man walked away I started to laugh.

“What?” asked #5. “What do you find so funny?”

“The class,” I replied.

“Why? It’s a great class. I’ve actually participated in one before,” he said.

I  couldn’t stop laughing as I explained, “I just find it hilarious that they’ve asked two previously DIVORCED people, who have been married 2 weeks, to teach the marriage class!”

That was #4. (As in, moments–not men!)

And I had to love you-know-who all the more for the fact that he responded, in all seriousness, to my humorous look at our new assignment and for the counsel he offered:  “I wouldn’t make an issue of that or a big deal about that to the class participants,” he advised.

Got it. Will do, #5. But I’m pretty sure everyone knows that about us, even if I don’t verbalize it.:)

“A word to the wise ain’t necessary, it’s the stupid ones who need the advice.” (Bill Cosby)

“Oh, How Nice!”

“The first of April is the day we remember what we are the other 364 days of the year.” (Mark Twain)

Actually, it was the first of March…but it showed me pretty much the same thing April was bound to.

Our first Sunday back at church after our honeymoon, our pastor asked #5 and I to address our congregation the following week. The Sunday of our assigned talks, I gave mine and sat down. I was followed by #5, who gave an excellent and heartfelt talk and ended it by expressing his love and gratitude for his wife; thanking her for her good example and for all she had taught him.

I sat there watching #5 conclude his talk, listening to him express his love and gratitude for his wife, and never thinking a thing of it–other than to think to myself in a very detached way (like I did the entire time I was single), “Oh, how nice. That man is married and that man loves his wife.”

He finished, turned to sit down and then suddenly it hit me:  Wait! He was talking about ME! I was HIS wife!

Married two weeks, and I’d already forgotten who my husband was! I’d found adjusting to being single after 20 years of marriage very difficult. I never imagined that the fulfillment of my dream–to find an amazing man, fall in love and remarry–would be an adjustment, too! But apparently it was going to be, since I experienced a total brain freeze about being married again just two weeks into it!

Second marriage moment #3.

“If it’s hard to remember, it’ll be difficult to forget.” (Arnold Schwarzenegger)

Thank goodness my forgetfulness only lasted a moment.:)

Edward Eyes

“I have looked into your eyes with my eyes. I have put my heart near your heart.” (Pope John XXIII)

I don’t know how it is for all divorced, single women, but I can tell you how I felt and what I thought.

I couldn’t believe it had happened to me. I was a in a bit of shock at the events that led to my divorce and the fact that I was divorced. My divorce hadn’t happened in what I imagined were the typical ways–we had never fallen out of love, become indifferent to one another, fought with each other or hated each other. It wasn’t a downward spiral leading to a break-up. The necessity for a divorce came in one day, out of the blue.

My feelings of self worth suffered. I walked around, sure that all eyes were on me, that everyone knew I was single, that everyone probably thought I’d done something wrong to end up that way and that people either pitied me or thought I was a loser.

I was filled with grief that a marriage had ended and an intact family unit had been destroyed.

I felt the marriage that ended had been my one marriage, my one chance at having a husband or being married, and that I was destined to be alone the rest of my life.

But at the same time, my divorce didn’t destroy my belief in the institution of marriage or in the purpose of families; I remained a fan of both. I remember sitting in church one day a month or two after my divorce became final and the Sunday School lesson was on marriage. I sat there, listening, as I always had when a woman sitting next to me leaned over and whispered, “I’m sorry. Is this hard for you?” No, I answered, and I meant it. It hadn’t dawned on me to sit there and feel bad for myself or mope about what I didn’t have.

However, as a single woman, there were certain things I noticed.

I noticed every wedding ring on every man’s finger. My husband had never worn a wedding ring, and although it had never bothered me or been an issue for us (due to my dad’s profession, he hadn’t worn one either, so I didn’t grow up with the expectation that married men should wear wedding rings) I began to appreciate them–after I was single.

I noticed young couples in love, particularly the way they looked at each other, specifically the way the young men looked at the young ladies. I couldn’t help but see it, probably because I’d been told my spouse hadn’t looked at me in years prior to our divorce. Somehow along the way, I decided I wanted that for myself someday.

Some people look for money. Some people choose a mate based solely on chemistry, intellect, physical appearance or personality. I decided, among other things, I was going to hold out for a man who looked at me with “the look.” I didn’t want a relationship where my husband spent year looking at the tip of my nose again.

Enter Bachelor #5.

He told me he’d marry me tomorrow if I were willing; I was slower than he was to come to that decision. I had a lot of observing and investigating to do before I committed myself. And one of the things I was checking out was “the look.” Did he look at me that way?

I wasn’t sure.

It was time to find out.

One night I sat nose to nose with Bachelor #5. I directed him to look at me. He laughed and told me he couldn’t, things were too blurry to see that close up! I explained he didn’t need to see me, I just needed to see the way he looked at me. He shook his head, teased me about trying to live a teenage fantasy in my 40s and holding out for something that doesn’t exist in real life, but he had the good grace to look me in the eyes anyway.

For a second or two, as I looked into his warm, brown eyes, I wasn’t sure what I saw. Then before I could decide, he opened his eyes as wide as he could, gazed intently into mine, raised his eyebrows (to the point he was looking a little like a zombie) and asked, “Can you see it? I’m looking at you with my best Edward eyes. Do you see my Edward eyes?”

I told you he gets me.

He’s not even a Twilight fan, but he somehow knew what I was thinking, what I was looking for, and at least jokingly, tried to be that for me.

Just one more reason I finally decided it was time. Why I said, “Yes.” And why we’re still…engaged.

“We are all a little weird and life’s a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.” (Author Unknown)

It’s all part of the unexpected life.

Mr. Board Breaker

“Breaking is a martial arts skill that is used in competition, demonstration and testing. Breaking is an action where a martial artist uses a striking surface to break one or more objects using the skills honed in their art form. The striking surface is usually a hand or a foot, but may also be a fingertip, toe, head, elbow, knuckle or knee. The most common object is a piece of wood, though it is also common to break bricks or cinder blocks.” (Wikipedia)

Mr. Board Breaker.

He isn’t a bachelor. I didn’t date him; I never even met him. I saw him on a YouTube video, actually.

He said his was a motivational video–to show you can do anything if you set your mind to it. He stood in front of the camera, speaking positive and encouraging words about breaking a board over his head, and then offered a demonstration. He grabbed a board, smashed it over his head…and nothing happened. He repeated the effort. Again, nothing happened.

But he didn’t give up.

Time and again he smashed his skull with wood and couldn’t break the board. He swayed on his feet as he narrated his motivational speech (probably unsteady on his feet due to pain) but he didn’t give up trying to break a board over his head (probably due to brain damage!) He even switched to a different board and continued his attempts.

Time and again he failed, but Mr. Board Breaker just would not give up! I don’t know how many times he failed to break a board over his head, but it was enough that it eventually made me cringe with each additional attempt.
And then, eventually, he succeeded!

Mr. Board Breaker reminded me of being single!

I’ve had a few “board breakers” too. You know, things I’ve optimistically endeavored to do despite the lack of results I had hoped for.

Lets recap a few of mine.

I tried my church’s Sunday night meetings; we all know how well those worked for me. (They didn’t.) I never met a single friend there but had some weird experiences for sure. I tried the singles dances held at my church and other singles dances; we all know how well those worked for me, too. I had a few limited successes from those; but mostly it was a showcase of very interesting characters. Despite the fact these were board breakers for me, I maintain my gratitude that they exist. I am thankful there is some place for single people to go to socialize and meet other people.

I also tried the online thing as I’ve previously shared. I’ve read statistics that say 1 out of 5 to 1 out of 8 couples today met online. That’s encouraging, right? Personally, I tried a total of 3 different sites: 1 for 24 hours, 1 for one month, and 1 for less than a month.) How well that worked for me has yet to be decided.

And in the spirit of honesty and total disclosure, there’s a final board breaker I have to share. A board breaker of a divorced woman living in Utah seeking to successfully “break the board” of her single status and find that happily ever after ending she just can’t quit believing is out there for her.

I couldn’t believe this happened to me.

Cue: The sound of splintering wood…

More Than Divorce To Make a Friendship

“Every person is a new door to a different world.” (from movie “Six Degrees of Seperation”)

When I first moved to Utah, I met several women at church who introduced themselves to me and were very nice. I liked them and looked forward to getting to know them better and building a friendship with them. Instead, every one of them suggested I get to know a certain woman in the congregation. “We think you’d REALLY like her.”

I had left my friends behind in Colorado and missed them terribly. I didn’t know who the other woman was, but was so excited that there was a new friend waiting for me in Utah! I wondered if we were the same age, had the same talents, looked alike, had the same interests or what it was about me that reminded them of someone they already knew–and who they thought I’d be great friends with.

I soon found out. The woman was divorced.

“Being divorced is like being hit by a Mack truck. If you live through it, you start looking very carefully to the right and to the left.” (Jean Kerr)

Unfortunately, it takes more than a Mack truck to make a friendship!

I met the woman and couldn’t sense we had a single thing in common other than we were both divorced. We smile at each other and say hello, but that is the extent of our friendship. I have to say it again, it takes more than divorce (or having similar single status) to make a friendship.

The experience made me stop and wonder how often we categorize people, or make judgements about people, and cut ourselves off from many enriching experiences based on just one aspect of another’s existence. Although I’m a person who generally operates under the philosophy of “the more, the merrier,” I have been guilty of this in my own life on occasion and I have to wonder, “Did I ever compartmentalize friendship opportunities based on marital status?” I don’t think I did, but I hope, again, that I did not!

C.S. Lewis said, “Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art… It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival.”

My artist sister may argue with me about art not being necessary to survival (lol) and I am quite an art lover myself in my own way. So there is a part of me that disagrees with C.S. Lewis–especially the part of me that wonders how I would ever have lived through the events of the past almost year without friends. But this I know and do agree with C.S. Lewis about: friends have added color to what was at moments, the bleak canvas of an unexpected life.

When the canvas of my existence was revealed to be a forgery, when the museum my canvas was housed in was seized, and when everything about my life’s art was devalued by others and even destroyed on some levels by the choices of another, my friends were there for me. They helped give value to my survival. And that helped me do the same for myself and my children. And to keep pressing forward when I didn’t even have an idea of the picture I was striving to create.

Friendships HAVE touched my soul and enriched my life. I am so grateful and so blessed to have friends like that, who continue to give value to my survival and add color to my existence. So thank you, again, to my old friends and my new friends.

I don’t know what I’d do without each of you and your good influence in my life! Each of my friends has broadened my perspective and enlarged my world. And made it so fun and so valuable. I am touched every single day of my life by the kindness of friends. I hope every person in the world feels that same way about friends, their friends, and the doors to new worlds each friend we make opens to us.

“This is my wish for you: Comfort on difficult days, smiles when sadness intrudes, rainbows to follow the clouds, laughter to kiss your lips, sunsets to warm your heart, hugs when spirits sag, beauty for your eyes to see, friendships to brighten your being, faith so that you can believe, confidence for when you doubt, courage to know yourself, patience to accept the truth, Love to complete your life.” (lynnie_buttercup)

So Much For Anonymity

We moved to Utah for a variety of reasons, the biggest being employment and that Utah is where things worked out for us to live. However, we had a few other motives too. Like the fact that it would be a clean break, a fresh start, and a chance to live where no one knew who we were, who we had once been related to or what we had just been through. Having had our brush with “celebrity,” not one of us was sad to leave the paparazzi behind!

But we had a few things NOT in our favor if we wanted to be completely anonymous. (And believe me, we were all so shell-shocked, that probably would have been our preference had we had a choice!)

Our first Sunday at church, our pastor asked for some personal information so he could request our church records from our previous congregation. I hesitated to give it to him so soon, wanting to make sure the divorce was final on church records so that my former spouse’s information was not transferred with ours. Although I hadn’t planned on it, I told the pastor a little of our situation to explain why I wasn’t ready to have him transfer our records yet. Poor man. He made an innocent phone call to get my birth date, and ended up knowing a LOT more than he was probably prepared to learn!

But that impulse to tell him our story when my plan had been to keep it quiet turned out to be a blessing. Less than a week after my conversation with my new pastor, he called to tell me it was good I’d told him my story; that a member of the congregation had come to him and told him he should google the new woman from Colorado who had moved in–that she had quite a story. He said, “Thank goodness you had told me. I was able to tell them I imagined you had moved here to start over and didn’t want everyone to know your past. I asked them to not share that information with others.”

So much for anonymity in the day of internet and search engines! lol.

On the bright side, I don’t know who the person was who googled me and shared it with the pastor, I never asked, but I never heard a word about my former life from anyone. To my knowledge, they honored the pastor’s request.

And then a few weeks later, after my former spouse had been taken into custody and placed in Colorado’s Jefferson County Jail, I opened the mailbox to find three letters from him. Mailed from jail. On the outside of each envelope, stamped in large letters, were the words “Uncensored Inmate Mail!” I looked down at what I was holding in my hand and all I could do was laugh! So much for anonymity. So much for a “fresh start!”

“This has been a learning experience for me. I also thought that privacy was something we were granted in the Constitution. I have learned from this when in fact the word privacy does not appear in the Constitution.” (Bill Maher)

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