Living Happily Ever After
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Three Weeks Later

Date: May 18, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

In my new life in Utah, I commute to work. The entire drive I am fortunate to have beautiful, jagged rocky mountains to look at. Last year, my commute was my time to have a few minutes of silence every day–I couldn’t listen to the radio because most of the songs made me cry. And at that time, not crying when I was alone was hard enough, I didn’t need any extra help! lol. In 2009, my commute was also my time to try NOT to think about what had become my life.

Three weeks into my new life in Utah, I read a story about a pioneer man who lost his wife coming across the plains. He buried her, and by that night had also lost his infant son. He walked back to his wife’s grave, dug her up and buried the baby with her, and then returned to the wagon train he was traveling with. He quit writing in his journal for awhile, but when he picked up again, he wrote only, “Still Walking.”

That’s how I felt.

I didn’t have the time, energy, or opportunity to write about my life. I was hardly able to face what had become of my life. I wasn’t sure why it was my new life. I struggled with my new life. And because I’d been taught “if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all,” I didn’t say anything. I was so overwhelmed, I didn’t have the time to write anyway.

If I had written, I would have recorded that in the beginning of my new life as a single mother, I HATED leaving my children and going to work each day. I was filled with grief for the many things I had lost and for what my innocent children had been put through. It took all of my will to get up every day and go to work, come home, and do everything for the family.

I also had a moment or two, I admit, of thinking (while I commuted) “If this is the rest of my life, if THIS is what I have to look forward to for the next 40-60 years, I don’t think I want it.” Sometimes my optimism was…not optimism! As I drove, my mental “wallowing” was equivalent to a pig stuck in muck in the barnyard. I knew it. I didn’t want to be that, but sometimes I just couldn’t help myself. In the beginning, I couldn’t imagine ever healing, ever feeling “whole” again or ever being o.k. with any part of my life. I just felt like I had to live my new life and give the appearance that things were good and I was happy for the sake of my children.

I think, or at least I hope, that most of those feelings I wallowed in were normal. In my experience, it was part of the process of healing and overcoming. The trick, though, is to not allow yourself to get stuck in the “mental muck” for too long; to not allow yourself to wallow too deep. Because, “They say that time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.” (Andy Warhol)

He’s right.

So I hoped for better days ahead. I didn’t know how long it would take them to arrive, but I knew I had to hang on until they did. I had to hope that, as my mom used to say, “this too, shall pass.” I had to hope that I would feel comfort and peace, that I would be able to carry on just one more day. I had to hope that I’d be able to have fun with my children again. (We’d all grieved so much, I felt we needed FUN! I knew I needed to set a good example of fun for my children, I just felt so heavy in my heart I didn’t know how I would be able to do that, too.)

And in addition to hope, I had to do what I could to look for the good and count the blessings I still had. I had to work to create a life I could be happy with and I had to let go of the old one. There was still a good life to be lived. A very different life from the life I’d had or imagined as my future, but it was still good.

“Difficult times have helped me understand better than before how infinitely rich and beautiful life is in every way, and that so many things that one goes worrying about are of no importance whatsoever.” (Isak Dinesen)

Somewhere along I-15, and with time, by the fall of 2009 I noticed I was crying less and then eventually not crying at all. There isn’t a lot to cry about anymore. In fact, there may not be anything left to cry about. I can’t remember the last time I cried.

My mom was right. Again.

Things DO pass. Time DOES heal. You just have to let things and time work their magic. And you have to use the things you are “blessed” with, to make you a better person than you would otherwise have been. Difficult times have helped me realize that, again, and so much more.

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The Move

Date: May 16, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

You know how you have a life plan…and then sometimes things happen to upset that plan and you’re shocked? I’ve seen that happen over and over in my life and in the lives of others. And that continued to be my life in 2009.

I obviously had been dealt a very unexpected life. But I continued to be human–make a plan to work with what I had, and then something would happen to ruin that plan and I’d have to go back, rethink, replan, and try it again. That happened over and over and over again last year. It happened so much it was overwhelming. Sometimes it was hard not to give up in the face of so many obstacles, every day, all at the same time!

It seemed like every day I was faced with a huge new problem, challenge or obstacle related to the situation that had been forced upon me by the choices of another. I’d work to handle it, would try to make the best of it, thought I had it taken care of, and within that same day or the next, new aspects would surface that ruined my plan and I’d have to start all over again! For several months in a row, it seemed like every single time I made any progress toward clawing myself out of the black abyss I’d been thrown into, some thing or some one would kick me back down the hole!

Some days the challenge simply of that was indescribable. But for some reason I didn’t quit.

In spite of the mess my life had become, I continued to try to salvage what I could out of the shards of life I was left with. I made a plan to settle in Utah and have my children settled in the new place we were going to live before I left them full-time and returned to work. But a few weeks before the scheduled move, that plan, too, fell apart.

I ended up moving to Utah before two of my children did. I ended up moving to Utah before my possessions did. And I ended up moving to Utah before I could move into a place of my own. None of that was my original plan, but that is how everything worked out. I know these situations are not the end of the world. People who move a lot probably deal with much bigger moving issues every time they move. However, I really hadn’t moved in 20 years. I’d never moved alone. And I was completely worried about moving my kids to a place none of us knew, and leaving them alone all day in a strange, new place. But you make the best of what you have.

To His credit, my former spouse helped me. We weren’t married any more, but He did as much as He could to assist me in making my new transition. He loaded the moving trucks for me after I had gone, drove a moving truck and arranged to have friends help him haul my things to Utah while I was already living and working there.

And He did it all as quietly as He could. My children and I were trying to make a fresh start in a new place and leave everything of the old life behind, so I instructed Him to head to the basement or anywhere away from new acquaintances should they drop by when He was hauling boxes. And He honored that request. I had many friends and relatives helping me. I don’t think anyone caught on that He was my ex-husband.

He arrived back in Colorado after helping me move to find our neighbors swarming the house and our property like a hive of angry bees. (I don’t think the neighbors, who lined the fence and stared at my teenagers as they packed their car to move to Utah after I’d already gone, realized that anyone was coming back.)

Our departure must have made them feel as if it was their right to open the mail in our mailbox, wander all over our house, the shop behind our house, our property and driveways. My former spouse arrived back in Colorado after moving me to Utah to find quite a crowd gathered there. Their children were riding their bikes around the deck of the pool, people were everywhere on the property, they had even driven their cars down the driveway!

Trespassing.

Unfortunately, the property didn’t belong to our neighbors or my spouse’s victims. It was the bank’s.

In the face of the swarm, He did as the government had previously instructed Him: He phoned 911. The police arrived and caught all of the neighbors in the act of trespassing. Boy, were the neighbors mad! (At least one had a relatively high profile job in the Denver area and was completely embarrassed to be caught in the act of trespassing. It couldn’t have been good for his career if that had gotten out.) Another neighbor chased Him down the driveway screaming at him. Another came running to join the first, yelling, “I’ve called The Feds! I’ve called The Feds! The Feds are on their way!” (If she really had called them, “The Feds” never came.) It was total craziness.

The neighbors told the authorities they had been nice up to that point because my children and I had been there. All I could think of when I heard that was that I’d hate to have experienced “not nice” if the way they’d acted and treated me was “nice!”

He lived in the house that week by himself and I struggled in Utah. I worked all day, cried all the way home, put on a happy face when I arrived and tended my children, ate dinner as our new family, and then I’d unpack and work on getting settled in our home until about 1 a.m. and then get up the next morning at 6 a.m. and do it all again. I guess it was good I hadn’t been able to sleep much in 2009 because my schedule didn’t lend itself to having much time for it anyway!

Utah was hot! At first, things were miserable. The air conditioning didn’t work. Our sprinkler system had broken. The television wasn’t hooked up right. The computer didn’t work. There was so much I needed help with and I didn’t have a clue how to do any of it! (Those who know me can vouch for my infamous lack of technological skills!) To be honest, I felt like I needed a man to do so many things and unfortunately, I didn’t have one. (It had been 20 years since I had been completely alone and I had learned to depend on a man to do things around the house, etc… An excuse, I know, but it was how I’d operated.)

Everyone was very nice to me in Utah. Everyone helped me a little bit and I was grateful for that. But I wasn’t anyone’s priority, their own families were. I understood that. It just didn’t help me. And I hated having to bother people for help with so many little things. So when He offered to come back and help me for another weekend, I let him. I needed help and was desperately grateful for it. He got a lot done and it seemed to be good for everyone in my family to have Him there.

And then in the midst of the struggle to settle in a new place and create a new life, I started to second-guess my decisions those first several weeks. I wondered if moving was a mistake? I wondered, maybe, if it would have been better to stay in Colorado? Those completely useless words “if only.” We should never let ourselves indulge in them or use them! But sometimes I forget my own wise counsel and do it anyway.

Financially, staying in Colorado hadn’t been an option. My job was in Utah, the cost of living was lower, for me, in Utah. And try as hard as I had to stay in Colorado, everything had worked out for me to move to Utah. I’d also had a very strong feeling I needed to be in Utah so I couldn’t let myself indulge in thoughts of my move as a mistake. Every time I started to think that way, I’d have to stop myself.

There we were. We had a new life. And we needed to make the most of it. We needed to make it our life.

We had to let go of Colorado and hope we’d be happy in Utah. As I looked around me, everyone in Utah seemed to love it. Sometimes I wondered, “Why couldn’t we? Why couldn’t I?”

Each day, I just tried to get through one more day and help my children get through it too. I tried to live with my eyes open to the good things we experienced and the tender mercies, the miracles, we were blessed with. And there were many. It seemed like every day at least one little good thing came our way: a treat from a friendly new neighbor, a kind word from a new acquaintance, a compliment from a stranger, a fun evening in the canyon (less than 10 minutes from our house, instead of the hour away the Colorado mountains had been!) or some other simple pleasure in life.

It showed me again that life can be good, life is good, regardless of your situation. You just have to let it be. You just have to look for it. Our greatest happiness doesn’t have to depend on the conditions of the life we find ourselves blessed to live, happiness is a conscious choice we make.

“Life is a grindstone. Whether it grinds us down or polishes us up depends on us!” (Thomas L. Holdcroft)

We have to choose to shine.

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Like Christopher Columbus

Date: May 13, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Five days until I moved from Colorado to Utah.

I felt like I imagined Christopher Columbus had to have felt: sailing off the edge of the map, sailing off into totally unknown territory, sailing off from the only life ever known. Columbus, himself, said, “Following the light of the sun, we left the Old World.”

It sure seemed dark in my existence. But I had the light of correct principles I knew to be true to guide me. I knew I was leaving the “old world” I’d lived in for the previous 20 years, and I was going to who knew what? I was scared to death! I wondered if Columbus had ever been afraid. I sure was! I tried not to be. But I wasn’t very successful at fighting my fear.

I just kept going, fearful, but pressing forward and hoping Columbus was right when he said, “By prevailing over all obstacles and distractions, one may unfailingly arrive at his chosen goal or destination.” I hoped that somehow, some way, I would also prevail at what lay before me: an unexpected life.

I looked to other brave explorers for inspiration. Jacques Cousteau said, “Every morning I wake up saying, I’m still alive, a miracle. And so I keep on pushing.” I kept waking up and facing each new day. I kept on pushing too.

I took great hope from another wise bit of wisdom from Cousteau: “If we were logical, the future would be bleak indeed. But we are more than logical. We are human beings, and we have faith, and we have hope, and we can work.” Thankfully, I had been taught to have faith, hope, and to work.

I was facing a journey more daunting than anything I’d ever imagined. It certainly wasn’t a voyage I’d dreamed of, planned for, or wanted to be participating in. But it was mine. My unexpected life.

Looking back, as difficult as it was to live it, it was also something more. It was an opportunity not many people are presented with. I could make of it what I might for myself and for my children. And if I handled it wisely, I could learn and grow to become a better person, and most importantly, I could teach my children how to be successful (how to live and find joy) in any set of circumstances– that’s one of the most important things we have to learn in life, in my opinion. And by helping my children overcome the huge mountain that was now their life, I could do something extraordinary with my unexpected life.

“People do not decide to become extraordinary. They decide to accomplish extraordinary things.” (Sir Edmund Hillary)

THAT is life.

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Filing Papers

Date: May 12, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

The packing of possessions continued, I started my new job working from home, I was moving from Colorado to Utah in less than two weeks and there was one other task to complete prior to the move: file the final paperwork for my divorce.

He went with me to file the last of our paperwork. It went very smoothly. We got along, talked, I made a few jokes (my typical style of making fun of the hard stuff so I don’t think about what is REALLY going on) and I tried not to think about what was taking place. As he drove, He commented that he didn’t think many divorcing couples were as cordial to one another as they filed their final paperwork as we were.

I couldn’t respond to that. I just kept reading and re-reading the words on the papers and no matter how many times I skimmed them, they didn’t seem real. Could they really be about divorce? I had never imagined myself divorcing. In fact, my divorce had made a liar out of me.

I couldn’t help but reflect on the many times over the years, as parents of one of my children’s friends would divorce my child would ask, “You and dad will never get divorced, will you?” (I remember asking my parents that same question when I was a girl and parents of one of my friends divorced.) And my answer had always been the same: “Absolutely not. I can’t think of a single thing a member of my family could do that would ever result in divorce.” Unfortunately, I never imagined the double life my spouse had been leading. I never imagined that anyone I knew personally (much less lived with) was capable of committing a single crime (much less all that He had done.) I never imagined that promise to my children would turn out to be a lie.

As we drove to file the paperwork, He also made some predictions about the next five years–five years was the amount of time He anticipated being in prison. His first prediction? That I would re-marry.

I didn’t expect to hear that. I was sure, for a myriad of reasons, that would never be in my future. And I certainly didn’t want to discuss it with Him! At that time, I couldn’t comprehend it. I was sure it wouldn’t be true. After being married nearly 20 years, I couldn’t comprehend dating much less getting married! He also predicted the demise of an extended family member who struggled with mental health issues and addictions. Funny, but the remarriage He predicted for me shocked me WAY more than hearing what he thought the future held for extended family.

He then told me I had His permission to fall in love again with another man, as long as the man would be good to our kids. I didn’t respond for SO MANY reasons.

I didn’t need His permission. His permission was not His to give. We were divorcing–not to mention the fact that after all He had done, I didn’t feel He had a right to dictate anything for me or my children, then or in the future.

I thought it was strange to have him mention something like that while we were legally still married.

I knew there was no way I’d even have time to date, much less re-marry, when I was the sole parent to four children who had been traumatized. I felt all of my time, energy and effort needed to be directed toward helping them heal. I truly felt like I’d had my chance at life, and now my life was to help my children make the most of their chance.

As I mentioned before, I firmly believed no one in their right mind would ever want an “old bag!”

And who would ever want to take on the financial, emotional, and every other type of responsibility for four children?

Those are just some of the reasons I didn’t respond to his predictions. I was getting very good at “not hearing” and thus, not responding, to difficult things. It was the only way I survived those terrible months of 2009 and continued to live and hold my head up in the face of persecution and publicity and everything else that went along with my position as the wife of a criminal.

I had the terrible feeling I was destined to be alone on so many levels for so many reasons. I only prayed I’d be up to the challenge of loneliness. Because the loneliness was extreme. From the moment I found out about the ponzi scheme and pending incarceration of my spouse, although we were legally married and even living in the same house, I felt acute loneliness. I was alone in the world.

For the first time, I understood the concept of someone being surrounded by people yet totally alone. That was exactly how I felt. To anyone else who has ever felt that, I am truly sorry. I wouldn’t wish that degree of loneliness on anyone.

“Loneliness is the ultimate poverty.” (Abigail Van Buren)

A VERY unexpected life.

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The Irony of Crime

Date: May 11, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

So life in Colorado continued winding down. I was packing and preparing to move my four children to Utah and begin a new life. He was wrapping up the details of His life and preparing to go to prison.

As part of that, He went to our cabin to take care of some business. As soon as He arrived at the cabin, He called me, absolutely furious and disgusted by what He had found. We had been robbed!

He ranted about the situation, listing every thing that was missing. He was so upset to have been stolen from!

All I could do was laugh.

He stopped, mid-rant, and asked why I was laughing. I said, “I’m sorry, but I think it is kind of funny! So ironic! The man who stole has been stolen from and he is angry that someone stole from HIM!”

Funny how that happened, huh?

He tried to justify His indignation, but I just didn’t feel it. Now that I knew the truth about the life He had led, I realized the cabin had been purchased and furnished with money HE stole! It wasn’t really ours and never had been.

The irony of the situation entertained me for a moment in the nightmare that had become my unexpected life. And it validated something I had heard His mother say time and again in the nearly two decades we’d been married: “What goes around comes around.”

It surely did.

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Eggs, Anyone?

Date: May 10, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Things continued to escalate as we prepared to move from Colorado to Utah. The stress and strain was absolutely palpable. Even my children felt it.

My youngest was emotional and clingy. My middle son was emotionally devastated yet frustrated–he was the one that wanted to use his finger to communicate that hard day I already blogged about. My two oldest held up well, but finally got closer to snapping. They told me they were going to egg the neighbors on their way out of town!

I laughed–thinking it was one of our usual “coping jokes” that we made up to help ourselves deal with the trauma of our new life. We laughed, to try to keep the tears at bay, I think. But then I realized they might be serious.

I absolutely forbade that behavior from them and we had quite an animated discussion about it as they had very different opinions than I did on that one!

I told them when we stoop to the level of hatred, frustration, and anger displayed by those around us, and when we choose to lash out the way those around us had, then we become like them. And I didn’t want any member of my family to behave like those around us had! I told them we knew better. And regardless of what anyone done to us, regardless of their opinion of us, we would continue to hold our heads high and live good lives. Even if no one around us believed that is what we were doing.

And I think for the first time in my life I uttered the dreaded phrase, “Over my dead body will any one of my children…”

You become a cliche at the most unexpected times in life, don’t you?

Sometimes it felt like everywhere I turned, I was faced with another nightmare not of my choosing. It seemed like in so many ways, my children and I didn’t have any choices. But we had a choice in how we responded in our challenge. And as for me and my house, I was determined we’d keep our eggs in the kitchen and eat them for breakfast! It was the right thing to do. And food was in short supply anyway!:)

To my children’s credit, they did not give in to the impulse to vent their feelings as they left what had once been their very good life in Colorado to begin a new one in Utah. I was grateful…and proud.

Eggs, anyone?

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You Know It’s Tough When…

Date: May 8, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

You know you’ve been left with a tough lot to hoe when your good friend calls to tell you her husband has another tumor, has already had a stem cell transplant and yet, she’d still rather have her life than yours!

We laughed SO HARD over that one.

No one wanted what I had, including me! My worst fears were my reality.

My friend and I cried together, too. Few cried with me like she did. She had endured many years of trials and challenges she’d never expected; she’d had to adjust her dreams accordingly, and she felt my pain like few could. Interesting, isn’t it? That our unexpected lives have a way of helping us develop empathy and compassion in a way nothing else is able to. Although I would never wish hardship on anyone, what a blessing my friend was to me because of all she had endured and risen above.

And the best part about being with her and knowing her family challenges was that her situation made me simply grateful to be alive. To have a life to live, unexpected as it was. Because not everyone has that option.

“I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.” (Agatha Christie)

Grand indeed.

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Father’s Day

Date: May 7, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I know Mother’s Day is coming. But what I’m thinking about today is Father’s Day 2009. What a TOUGH day.

Although our family had always gone to church together that day, 2009 was a different. My spouse didn’t go to church with us anymore, and that day, my two youngest did not want to go to church without their dad. I couldn’t blame them. On top of everything else they were dealing with, how hard to be so young and see everyone else sitting by their dads when my sons knew their dad was headed to prison.

How hard would it be to get up and sing Father’s Day songs…to other dads? I felt for them. I really did. When they both complained they had sore throats (in June), I didn’t even question it. I let them stay home.

But instead of celebrating the father of my children that day, I really struggled inside toward Him. Although I didn’t express it out loud, this is how I felt and what I wrote that day, despite my goal not to hate anyone: “I could hate him for the lies He told and lived for almost two decades, for what He did to his victims, and for all He has done to what was once our family. But the hardest thing I face is not about any of that. How am I ever NOT going to hate him for what He has done to our children? This day is just a reminder to me of all that. I feel He deserves absolutely nothing.”

But what I felt and what I did were two different things.

I needed to do what was best for my children. I had to show them a good example. I had to model what I thought was the right behavior. I had to practice what I had always preached.

I had to choose NOT to hate.

I wished Him a “Happy Father’s Day” and I spent a little of the practically non-existent cash on small gifts from my two youngest children. I suggested my daughter bake a dessert her dad loved as her “gift” to Him. It was the right thing to do: for Him (his last Father’s Day for many years, probably) and surely for my children.

Prior to the day, one of my older children came to me and said, “You aren’t going to do anything for dad for Father’s Day, are you?”

I replied that I would help any of them celebrate their dad in whatever way we could think of and manage. When asked what they planned they replied, “Nothing. He deserves nothing after all he has done. And he did NOTHING for you on Mother’s Day.” (But that’s another blog post.)

I acknowledged that child’s feelings and told that child whatever they felt and whatever they decided, was the right choice and I would support them in that. But I told them for the two younger kids, helping them honor their dad was the right thing…for them.

I don’t know what the experts say about that. I certainly am not one. But my instinct was that in situations like ours, or divorce situations or any other situations the parents cause and their children have no choice in what takes place, the children HAVE to be free to feel what they feel, and to be validated in what they feel–whatever that is–and that whatever they feel is right and correct and the right choice for them.

I told my children that again and again during 2009. And I wasn’t just saying that, I believe that. But I also told them at some point, they’d have to let themselves feel everything, work through it all, heal and forgive. I told them that is the only thing I insist on: they have to forgive.

The horror in one child’s eyes, when they realized I expected them to forgive their dad at some point, was evident! But I stood by it and still do. I told them forgiveness doesn’t mean you have to be their best friend, or that you even have to spend time with them, but you have to let go of the hate. You have to overcome their wrongs against you, forgive them, and rise above the natural inclination to hold a grudge or hate.

I truly believe in forgiveness. For everyone. For everything. Because if you don’t forgive, that hatred can destroy you. And then THAT is the true tragedy. Not the terrible destruction caused by the perpetrator, not everything the perpetrator destroys, but your destruction. The destruction you allow to happen because of the choices made by someone else.

Hatred is like acid. It can do more damage to the vessel in which it is stored than to the object on which it is poured.

And in my humble opinion, that is no way to live!

THAT is why I believe in forgiveness. And why I’m doing all I can to help my children feel it toward their father and any others who wrong them. Because I want so much for them. I want them to experience all life has to offer. Life is good. Life can be beautiful–even in spite of, or maybe even because of, the hard stuff.

My children have important things to accomplish, greatness to embrace, and oak trees to become. “Today’s mighty oak tree is merely yesterday’s little nut that managed to hold its ground.”

That’s what we’re about at our house. That’s really our bottom line. We’re just a bunch of nuts trying to hold our ground through a very unexpected life!

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A New Family Picture

Date: May 6, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Life is a rough biography. Memories smooth out the edges.” (Terri Guillemets)

Prior to my 2009 nightmare, I won a free 16×20 portrait at a charity auction. I had forgotten all about it, but as I packed to move, I found the coupon. I thought it was a timely discovery: I was moving and wouldn’t be able to use it after I moved away–at that time, I couldn’t imagine when, or if, I’d ever come back, if even for a visit. I was divorcing and didn’t have one picture of just my children and I to hang in our home. So I booked an appointment for a new family portrait.

We all got ready, wearing coordinating clothes, and drove to the portrait studio. It actually wasn’t any different, up to that point, than getting any other family picture taken had been. Except that even the youngest child was happy and in a good mood. (I had always been the one to schedule the appointment, choose the clothes, get myself and all of the children ready, and then He would show up, change, and go with us to the appointment–although He was usually stressed out about something and his stress would rub off on some of the children as we drove so that by the time we got there, things were a bit of a challenge. Then He’d do something to help everyone feel happy again, usually the promise of a treat afterward took care of it, so our picture experiences ended up being good memories. But His behavior was the reason we needed a treat afterward!)

I was excited that the picture was not going to cost us a thing at a time we had no money. I was excited to have a picture appropriate to hang in our home as we began a new life. Everything was going off without a hitch…until we were walking in the door of the studio.

My middle son, who was nine years old at the time, stopped, turned to me, and asked, “Wait. Where is Dad? Why are we getting a picture taken without Him?”

How do you answer that, at a time like that?

My poor boy. Every little thing about our unexpected life was so sad for him and hurt him. We couldn’t even get a picture taken without causing him pain!

It reminded me of something my oldest wrote in an essay at about the same age, only life, for him, was a lot different then: “I am like a camera taking pictures with my mind.” He was referring to happy memories, I think, and I couldn’t help but wonder what my middle son’s life camera was documenting for his future reference.

My challenge then, as it had always been, was to help my children create happy memories to record in the cameras of their minds. Only the material they were working with, the life they were documenting, had dramatically changed–and not for the better, I thought at that time.

But I had to help them do the best they could with what we had to work with. For them. And for me.

I had to hope that somehow, I could help them realize that, “Things that were hard to bear are sweet to remember.” (Seneca)

If you handle them right.

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Except For That One Time…

Date: May 5, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

In my limited experience as the mother of four children, there have been various challenges to address and “work on” as I teach and train them to grow to become all that I dream for them. One of those challenges is teaching honesty.

It seems like it’s a lesson that cycles. When they’re very young, the lesson is about not taking things that don’t belong to you, and it usually includes a trip or two BACK to a store to return something they’ve put in their pocket without my knowledge. As they grow and get a little older, the lesson becomes about always telling the truth–not lying to avoid a consequence; for example, not saying their homework is done when it really isn’t so they can go out and play with friends.

I’m still working on this with one of my younger children. Yesterday was no exception. In fact, the attempts to utilize every teaching moment are still in place and are actually more vital than ever because I work full-time and my time with my children is limited by my work. (But again, I am not complaining. I am grateful to have a job.)

As we discussed the importance of honesty at all times, in all things, and in all places AGAIN, and set a goal to strive for that AGAIN, and then as my son walked away to play after we chatted, I couldn’t help but remember one particular moment in 2009. A moment I’d been tempted to lie. It had been a moment among all moments for me. A challenge to my personal integrity and honesty. And until today, I wasn’t sure if I had been a failure or a success.

Here’s what happened.

The day of my move from Colorado to Utah was approaching. It was late afternoon and I’d taken a break from packing to let my three-year-old play outside. He was riding his little bike at the top of our driveway and I kept an eye on him, sure that we were being watched by neighbors as we did so, but I was getting quite used to living in the glare of the spotlight…and the binoculars…and under the hostile gaze of those around me. I had learned to do my thing, to do what I thought was right for my children (and even smile, occasionally, to give the appearance that I was having fun doing it) and to ignore those who spent their time watching me do it!

Soon a neighbor wandered up the driveway, trying to look nonchalant but headed my direction. (This neighbor had not been a client of my spouse’s, but had been very vocal in the media and willing to be interviewed about the situation as she saw it. Her home was the scene of the neighborhood gathering the day the U.S. Marshalls seized the items from our property; her husband was the man who photographed the goings on at our home as he leaned over the fence to do it.) I couldn’t imagine what she wanted to talk to me about. I soon found out.

She wanted to know when I was moving, wanted to know the exact day. She wanted to know where I was moving to, the exact city. She wanted to know how I had a place to live. She wanted to know where I was working, the name of my company and where it was located. She wanted information and details. And although she hadn’t been willing to talk to me through the rest of the nightmare, or even offer a smile or a wave, she was willing to ask me everything she wanted to know.

I was caught off guard. By that point, I panicked whenever anyone approached me, especially a neighbor! I hadn’t expected anyone to talk to me. And I certainly didn’t expect anyone to press me for answers about my personal plans and business. But press she did. When I tried to politely respond in a vague manner, so as not to appear rude, she didn’t quit. She asked for direct details.

I felt like a deer caught in headlights. I hate that feeling, yet it feels like that was my position a lot during 2009! (I guess you could say 2009 was my hunting season. lol.)

I knew why she wanted the information. The victims were circulating a daily email, I’d heard about it from the government and some victims that had received it and didn’t want to be included on it. It basically was a communication of ANY bit of information, even private information about my life or marriage–including things I’d told friends in confidence–ANYTHING they could discover from anyone. And then they published it to, what seemed like to me, the world. (I guess you feel that way when things shared in confidence are not kept that way.)

But then again, what was a little more humiliation in what had become the ultimate humiliation–discovering your spouse had been running a ponzi scheme, had stolen millions of dollars from friends and neighbors and family and strangers, that your spouse was going to prison, that your spouse had told hundreds of lies everyday to you and everyone else, that your children would have a relative in prison…and that all the while, you NEVER HAD A CLUE?

If I hadn’t been so terrified of what would happen should all of that information about my move get out, I could have laughed about the insanity of a non-victim neighbor actually doing what she did. But there was some degree of risk to my situation. For example, the head investigators constantly checked with me to make sure I felt safe from my neighbors. They told me if there was ever a problem to call 911 immediately. They insisted it was necessary they come to my home and supervise my move to protect ME from my neighbors on moving day. Etc…

And if I hadn’t been raised to be polite and honest, the conversation would have gone differently, too. But instead of lying or saying something rude, which I was tempted to do, I didn’t dare do it. I tried to answer her questions, vaguely, and then when she pressed me and pressed me for more details, I honestly answered with the truth! I SO did not want to tell everyone what was going on with me and what my plans were. I didn’t feel it was their business and I wanted to safeguard that information for my actual, physical safety was well.

But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t ignore her. I couldn’t lie. I couldn’t even tell her to mind her own business!

She walked away after she had discovered what she wanted to know and, I assume, share with everyone. And I went inside my house and threw up, literally, wondering if I had put the last nail in the coffin of our fate by honestly answering questions that were not anyone’s business but mine.

I wondered if I had just sold out my chance to rebuild a life somewhere else at the price of my unwillingness to be rude. I wondered if I had just sealed the fate of the physical safety of my children by refusing to lie.

“WHY couldn’t I be rude? WHY couldn’t I lie even once?” I thought. I was sick at my inability to do what I thought was wrong, at even the possible expense of my children. What kind of mother does that? I wondered.

I was so sick at what I had done, although I felt I had done the right thing, and then I finally had to force myself to let it go because I couldn’t change anything about what had happened. I decided to trust that something good would come of my choice to continue to do what was right in spite of the possible negative consequence to me and my children. I hoped we would be safe until we moved, but you don’t get to pick the consequences of your choices, good or bad. I just hoped it would be a consequence I could live with! Literally.

“We tell lies when we are afraid…afraid of what we don’t know, afraid of what others will think, afraid of what will be found out about us. But every time we tell a lie, the thing that we fear grows stronger.” (Tad WIlliams) Although I hadn’t lied, I had no reason to be afraid anymore. The truth was out, come what may. And aside from people entering my home late that night when my daughter was home alone and they thought we were gone, no danger to my children and I resulted from my truthful revelations that I know of.

The rudeness I was tempted to respond with, or a lie to protect my children, might have eased some temporary discomfort but I believe this with all of my heart based on that day’s experience: “A lie will easily get you out of a scrape, and yet, strangely and beautifully, rapture posesses you when you have taken the scrape and left out the lie.” (Charles Edward Montague, “Disenchantment”)

That’s the challenge isn’t it? Of life. Of anything.

I have always believed that.

In 2009, I continued to live that–at my peril. Because my parents taught me, “Honesty is the best policy,” and that as Shakespeare wrote, “No legacy is so rich as honesty.” I had always tried to live that way. And given my current financial situation, that may be the only legacy my children will have to inherit from me! lol

I’ve never doubted the wisdom of that…except for that one time in 2009.

But looking back, I am honestly grateful I didn’t cave in to rudeness or fear and act on my temptation to “lie” that day to save my children and I from an unknown flood of hatred and potential danger. I think it was the right decision: “Slander cannot destroy an honest man–when the flood recedes the rock is there.” (Chinese Proverb)

Example is the best teacher. And I’m trying to do all I can to teach my children what they’ll need to know to navigate the very uncertain waters of life, unexpectedly.

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