Living Happily Ever After
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Miracle Mail

Date: April 20, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I am terrible at remembering to collect my mail each day.  I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because my former spouse always got our mail, so it has been over 20 years since I’ve had to collect my mail.

But one year ago that changed. Due to my spouse’s crimes, the revelation that He had been running a ponzi scheme for 15 years, His prison sentence looming, our pending divorce, and other traumas…I took over everything–including the mail collection.

Each day, it seemed, hate mail arrived. I was shocked that we received it, and even more surprised at where it came from: total strangers, all across the U.S. It became so frequent for awhile there that one day I realized it had been one week since we had received a piece of hate mail!

An occasion to remember.

However, not all of the mail was hateful.  For the first two-three months of the nightmare, other anonymous mail arrived, the complete opposite of hate mail. I would open an envelope to find a gift card to a grocery store, Target, Costco or WalMart.  Other weeks, I would open an envelope to find some cash.  Other times it would be words of encouragement or an uplifting thought I really needed at that moment and that helped me continue on when the day had been particularly disastrous.

I called it Miracle Mail. It was such a blessing to me and to my children. It helped us survive, not just emotionally, but physically.

Thank heaven for those who “never suppress a generous thought.”

We were getting by on very little money as all of our accounts had been frozen. The cash I had I withdrawn on March 18, I had put in my wallet and then kept my wallet with me at all times. I didn’t let my spouse know where the money was because I was afraid he’d steal it! Trust was non-existent. (I guess it shows you may choose to allow a stranger to remain in your home for your children’s sake and because you feel it is the kind thing to do, but that doesn’t mean you trust Him.  At all.)

Any time my children needed lunch money, etc…I pulled a small amount of cash out of my wallet and used it.  I didn’t dare look at it, because to see the minimal amount, and to see that minimal amount dwindling, would have added even more stress to a life that was already bursting at the seams with it!

I remember getting down to the last $20, and then finally to the last $1, and wondering what we were going to do…and then an anonymous piece of mail, miracle mail, containing a gift card or cash would arrive at the very moment I needed it. There are some amazing, generous, kind, and charitable people. They literally saved us.  And of course, most of it was anonymous so I had no idea who to thank.

We also lived off food we had stored for emergencies, so although we weren’t eating our favorite things, we were able to purchase less at the store and still had food to eat. And, as with everything else, we got by with a little help from our friends.

A friend stopped by one day and unloaded a car load of food items from Costco–”fun” food, as she called it, that my children hadn’t seen in awhile like fruit snacks, crackers, Mickey Mouse-shaped chicken nuggets, cookies, etc…THAT was a highlight of the nightmare experience for my children! It was like Christmas in our kitchen!  They were thrilled to enjoy, once again, some treats they remembered from their former life.

Other friends called when they were heading to the store and asked if I needed anything.  If I didn’t need anything, they usually dropped food off anyway. Other times, they picked up what I needed and more.

And many women from my church delivered meals to us as well.  I think we had one entire month of dinners brought to our home by good women who were concerned about us and wanted us to not only have food to eat, but to feel loved. They delivered dinner every night until I finally asked them to stop–I couldn’t move my food storage and felt like we needed to use it up and provide for ourselves as much as we were able to.

Another friend brought us huge, delicious Sunday dinners EVERY SINGLE SUNDAY until we moved out of state.

True, we may have been hated by some, but we were also SO LOVED by so many.  That compassion, and Miracle Mail, got us through.

A New Kind of Multi-tasking

Date: April 15, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I guess you’d call it a new kind of multi-tasking.

The seizure and media frenzy continued into a third day, and while that was going on, I drove myself to the Arapahoe County Courthouse with my legal documents and my toddler in tow, paid $220, and filed for divorce.  (I filed for divorce as soon as the documents were ready. It had taken a few weeks to get everything together.)

I filed for divorce the same day my oldest son went on his first date: April 9, 2009. How sad is that?

I came home from that surreal experience I had never anticipated having and played with my little one outside although a photographer cased the house. My three-year-old had been stuck with me at the courthouse far too long and just wanted to enjoy the sunshine! (Amazing, that the sun still shines on our darkest days, isn’t it?) Our name and address had been published so many times that cars of all types, even mini vans, cruised slowly past our home all day and all night and while I played outside with my toddler. However, by the time it got dark there was no sign of any more media–just a slow stream of curious people continuing to cruise past our home.

The government had finished seizing our possessions.

I was depressed about my financial situation and a little stunned at all that had been taken. The U.S. Marshalls had seized A LOT MORE than we had expected. Many “little” things that weren’t specifically named on the warrant were also removed from our possession, for example, they even took brooms, snow shovels and our sleeping bags! To cheer me, my spouse gave me a “tour of consolation,” as He called it, to “reassure” me. We walked around and looked for things that had been left that I could use to rebuild a new life.

The next morning I checked the media reports just to know what I would be up against that day. Amazingly, we weren’t in the newspapers any more.  A baby had been murdered. The media had moved on to the next tragedy.

“Fame is a fickle food–Upon a shifting plate.” (Emily Dickinson)

Thank goodness for that.

Winston’s Words

Date: April 12, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Last April I read that Winston Churchill said, “…to every man [and woman] there comes… that special moment when [they are] figuratively tapped on the shoulder and offered the chance to do a special thing unique to [them]… what a tragedy if that moment finds [them] unprepared or unqualified for [that]which [could have been their] finest hour.”

It hit me that I had an opportunity to let 2009 be my finest hour.  It was a critical time.  I believed my life and the lives of my children, then and forever, hung in the balance.  As daunting as it seemed, I had to make 2009 my finest hour for the sake of my children.

I didn’t know what the future held, but I had faith enough to KNOW there would be one.

I believe these moments, to one degree or another, come to each of us. And it is what we do with them that makes all of the difference. Finest hour or failure.

This was reinforced to me during my service as president of the women’s organization of my church congregation.  One day a new woman joined our group.  I made an appointment to visit her in her home to officially welcome her to the area.  When I arrived at her apartment, I discovered she lived there with four other adults and sublet a bedroom in the apartment.  As we sat on her bed and talked, I looked out the window and noticed snowflakes beginning to fall.  At the same time, I glanced into her open closet door and saw only one pair of flip flops, one pair of athletic shoes, one skirt, and one shirt hanging on the rod.  No other clothing.  Not even a coat.  (Remember, I lived in Colorado.)

When I asked about her situation she told me she didn’t have a coat, didn’t have shoes other than the two pair I saw, didn’t have food to eat and she didn’t have a job. I arranged to take her shopping for a coat and through our pastor provided her with some groceries.

As I drove her to the store, she told me more of her life story:  her dad died when she was a teenager, her family lost their finances, she was raised by a single mother, she had had health challenges…and she attributed all of her experiences as the cause of her current situation.

In that moment I was struck with a powerful realization.  She and I had experienced many of the same life challenges. Yet while her experiences had changed her life in very difficult ways, I had been taught to rise above the challenges, to turn my stumbling blocks into stepping stones, to continue to live and achieve, and to attempt to utilize my adversity to make myself better than I would otherwise have been. (More wise words from my mom.)

What a blessing to have been taught, and to instinctively realize, we each are blessed with moments that can be our finest hour.  It is all in what we do with them.

I believe that now more than ever.  I hope my actions and attitude as I carry on, continue to live, and rebuild my life one day reveal my finest hour.

And it caused me to ponder:  What if everyone, in moments of heartache and seemingly insurmountable challenges, chose the path that would lead to their finest hour?

Imagine the legacy we would leave our children and those who come after us if we did.

What Do You Do With Your Wedding Picture?

Date: April 12, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

The roller coaster ride continued.

This time, it wasn’t finances.  It was pictures.  Wedding pictures.

My spouse and I were working in His shop, cleaning things out, preparatory to our divorce, my move, and Him heading to prison for running a ponzi scheme for 15 years (unbeknownst to me and everyone else) when He handed me a gigantic wedding picture for me to keep.

I said, “Oh, no.  It’s ok.  I don’t need that.”

He took it as such a slap in the face and looked so hurt!  I tried to explain we were divorcing, I was sure I had a smaller one somewhere, but he was clearly hurt.

So I took the picture, told Him I wanted it after all.  But the truth?

What am I going to do with a 16×20 picture of a marriage and husband that aren’t mine anymore?  Hang it somewhere? Keep it–to remind me of the 15 years of theft, lies and betrayals?

What DO you do with your wedding picture?

Any suggestions?

Snow Day

Date: April 8, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I remember snow days in Colorado were always a celebration. Cozy, unexpected family time; days filled with sledding and hot cocoa; relaxing by the fire; snuggling on the couch.  But the snow day we had in the spring of 2009 was completely different.  It just felt cold and alone.

That snow day I saw what an outcast I had become. Even regarding snow!

Every single driveway of ALL of our neighbors had been plowed, except ours.  (We hadn’t shoveled our snow in years–a neighbor with a snow plow on his truck, or a neighbor with an ATV and snowplow, always took care of it for everyone.  Not in 2009.) To make matters worse, all of the plowed snow had been piled, four feet high, at the top of OUR driveway.

A subtle message.

Aristotle was right.  ”Misfortune shows those who are not really friends.”

My son and I shoveled and shoveled the snow in an attempt to clear the driveway.  There was so much snow, snow that was that heavy, wet, spring snow, and the snow was piled so deep, we hardly made a dent in the piles although we shoveled until we felt like we’d sprinted a 10k.

My daughter was going to be late to meet her friends due to the snow situation blocking the exit from our driveway so I finally called a friend and asked her to pick my daughter up so she wouldn’t miss the activity. When her husband drove up and saw the piles of snow deposited in front of our driveway by neighbors, he was appalled! And angry.  He went home, got his snowblower, drove it over to my neighborhood and home, and cleared the snow away. (His wife told me he glared at every neighbor he saw as he did it–he was THAT disgusted by the hateful actions of our neighbors.)

That day I wrote, “I’m an outcast. But like the old song says, ‘I get by with a little help from my friends.’ Thanks, Dan.”

And truly, with good friends you’re never REALLY an outcast. Aristotle forgot to mention that while misfortune shows those who aren’t your friends, it also shows those who really are!  At a time when I felt like the biggest loser on earth and a total failure–believe me, ending up with my life at 41 1/2 years old had NOT been my life plan–I had friends who showed me otherwise.  ”The making of friends who are real friends,” said Edward Everett Hale, “is the best token we have of a man’s success in life.” If that was the measure of success, I hadn’t failed at all!

I don’t know how I would have survived my nightmare without friends.  ”A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words.”  (Anonymous) At a time when I felt like I had lost everything, including myself, they reminded me of who I was, what I had always been and showed me I was still me.  Me. Me PLUS the adventure of my unexpected life!

They helped me make the transition into a new chapter of my unexpected life. And although it was very hard to leave them in Colorado and begin a new life in Utah (so hard, in fact, I couldn’t say goodbye to anyone–I just drove away), how fortunate I am to have known such good people, to have been blessed with such incredible friends, that it WAS so hard to say goodbye!

My friends, old and new, help keep me going even to this day. Truly, I get by with a little help from my friends.  Don’t we all?

I Never Knew

Date: April 7, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I never knew until that moment how bad it could hurt to lose something you never really had.” (From the television show, The Wonder Years)

In 2009, I lived that line for real.  I felt like the life I thought I had, the life I had lived, had never really been real. I didn’t even trust my memories of my “former life” for a long time; everything seemed so tainted by the crime, the lies, and the betrayal. The pain of losing something I’d never really had hurt more than I imagined.

The spring of 2009 can best be described as the season my heart hurt.  It literally hurt ALL of the time.  It ached all day, every day, every moment, and I didn’t know if it hurt because it was broken or if I was actually physically in trouble due to the stress I lived under! Can healthy women have heart attacks at 41?  I wondered…

Here’s how “optimistic” and hopeful I felt sometimes.  Last April, one year ago, I wrote, “I’m looking at an eternity alone, people hating me the rest of my life, latch-key kids, if you name it and it’s miserable it’s my lot in life! I wonder how will I make it three months, much less the rest of my life? How can one man destroy so much? I deserved better. I deserved more, and so did my children.  His lies stole my life from age 26-41.  The consequences of his lies will steal the rest of my life. Everything looks so black. I never imagined pain like this existed, especially for someone so innocent.”

I spent depressing days packing stuff to move, preparing to leave the home I had brought each of my babies home to, had lived in for 16 years and had always thought it would be the home I’d live in when I was 80 years old.  I cried a lot. I reminisced. I mourned. I felt as if my heart had broken and would never heal.  And when I thought about my kids…I felt grief like I’d never felt before.

But I always pulled it together by the time my kids got home from school.

I had to carry on and keep it together (or at least look like I was keeping it together!) for my kids.  I had to show them what we do when our world falls apart:  we keep living.

My mom taught me that.

When I was 19 and my dad died unexpectedly in an airplane crash, I came home from college for the funeral to a house full of well-meaning neighbors and friends who told me I would not be returning to school because I was needed at home to help my mom and family.  So many told me that I thought my mom had decided that in my absence.  When I asked her if it was true that I wouldn’t be returning to college because my dad died, she was stunned.  And she corrected that mistaken assumption.  ”Absolutely you will be returning to school!  Andrea, you don’t stop living just because something terrible has happened to you!  You keep doing what you need to do, you keep living, you keep smiling even though you don’t feel like it, and some day your smiles will feel real again.”

So I smiled in 1986-1987 when I didn’t feel like it.  And I smiled in 2009 when I REALLY didn’t feel like it too.  They were forced.  They were ‘fake’ in that I didn’t feel them on the inside but I showed them on the outside anyway.  I smiled for the sake of my children.

I remember I was still forcing myself to smile in August 2009.  By then, it killed me that I didn’t mean them. I’d always been a pretty cheerful and positive person and it was hard for me to not feel like myself any more.  I had moments that I wondered if, in addition to losing everything I had known as my life, I had lost myself too.  I remember wondering if I’d ever smile, for real, again.

However, my mom turned out to be right.  As usual.

By October 2009, the smiles were real and the tears were less and less.  Sometime that month I realized I had gone an entire week without crying!  Baby steps forward, but steps forward all the same.  I think that’s one thing 2009 reinforced to me:  it doesn’t matter how fast you move along the path of your unexpected life.  Just as long as you keep moving.  Forward. Pressing on.

Oh, and smiling!

You Still Get To Write The Book

Date: April 4, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

In the middle of my 2009 nightmare I read an article about Michael J. Fox (the actor diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease in his 30s) titled, “On The Bright Side of Life.”  It inspired me enough that I took the time to write down two key things he said in the interview.

Fox said, “Optimism doesn’t mean you get to skip the bad stuff.  If you’re truly optimistic or have a capacity to hope, it should allow you to look at what’s bad and really get it’s measure, and say, ‘What is the extent of this?’ It’s the courage to look at something and say, ‘However bad this is, it isn’t bad indefinitely.’”

The “bad stuff” comes to everyone.  When it came to me, I found it IS helpful to (try) to look at it with a perspective beyond the moment. In 2009, I wasn’t perfect at that, but I tried.  I tried because I believe if we allow ourselves to “wallow” in the moment we may never leave it, and it may come to define us for the rest of our lives and may literally become all we are.  We have to become more than simply the sum of the “bad stuff.”

Defining moments come to everyone in their unexpected lives.  And if we handle those moments right, what we DO with the moment and its attendant challenges rather than the moment itself, can define us.  We can choose to grow beyond the moment and become better than we would otherwise have been.

Fox also said, “We sometimes see subtractions…I’m not me minus anything. I’m me plus this experience…you still get to write the book.  It’s going to have some chapters you might not have anticipated, but it’s still your story.”

His words hit home with me.

My experience of 2009 wasn’t going to destroy me.  It wasn’t going to be the only aspect to me and of my life forever.  I have a story, and it isn’t only one of ponzi schemes, crime, betrayal, divorce and an unexpected life.  I still get to write the book. Although “The Unexpected Life” has been and continues to be quite a ride and some story–with experiences and chapters I never anticipated, it is mine.  I’m the author. And although the plot has taken some very unexpected twists and turns, and it’s still going, I have faith and am determined to work to ensure there will be a happy ending!

An Old Bag

Date: April 3, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I met with a leader of my church regularly.  He was there for me, took time to chat with me, to find out my thoughts and to offer a wise perspective.  We covered temporal issues, spiritual concepts, my children, me, etc…

On our last visit, before I relocated to Utah from Colorado, he gave me some excellent advice.  He told me I was going to be working full-time and I was going to be a single mother.  He said, “Andrea, as you go on and rebuild your life, remember to have fun!  Don’t let yourself be so burdened by all of your responsibilities that you forget to laugh and have fun! THAT is my advice for you as a single woman.”

Exellent advice.  I’ve tried to follow it and live it. I recommend it for everyone.

Another visit, though, he broached the subject of me marrying again some day.

I shook my head and said, “No.  I’m not marrying again.  I’m 41 years old.  I have four kids.  I’m an ‘old bag’! No one will want me!”

He was kind enough to laugh and say, “Andrea, you’re NOT an ‘old bag’.”

Then why did I feel like it?

But my church leader had a bit more perspective than I did.  I went on my “first” date less than three months later (VERY unexpected.)  And I don’t feel like an “old bag” any more. Or maybe I really am one, but I’m too busy laughing and having fun to know it!

There’s Nothing Like Love Songs

Date: April 2, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I used to watch a t.v. show where real-life people, singers, perform.  Maybe you’ve heard of it?  ”American Idol.”

The last time I regularly watched was in 2009.  That night, most songs were love songs, and by the time the episode was over, I was thoroughly depressed!

To know what I didn’t have, to know what I probably never had (and just hadn’t known it), to realize how ripped off I got in love, marriage, eternity, romance, partnership, trust, honesty, life, a whole and complete family, a father for my children (even in alimony and child support) was sadly overwhelming.

There’s nothing like love songs to make you realize what you don’t have!

I finally couldn’t let myself think about it, or I was afraid I might not carry on. So I tried to put those thoughts out of my mind, I quit watching “American Idol,” and it was a long time before I could hear a love song and not cry.

Kahlil Gibran said, “Life without love is like a tree without blossoms or fruit.”  He was right on.  Inside, I felt like a burned, blackened, twisted, dry, bent, lifeless, broken, dead tree!  (If you’ve ever seen a mountain scarred by a forest fire, that’s how I felt.) And thanks to “American Idol,” and love songs, I realized that.

So, if you are in love, or are fortunate enough to be loved by someone, take a moment today and acknowledge that blessing in your life.  Because life, with love, IS a tree blossoming with flowers and fruit, boughs bending toward earth, laden with goodness and beauty. Bounteous. Beautiful to behold. Fragrant. Nourishing. Satisfying. Satiating. Protective.

Even love songs recognize that.

And if you aren’t currently in love, or loved, don’t give up.  I haven’t.  I’ve seen new life, flowers, and green leaves grow out of the most inhospitable environments–cracks in rocks on cliffs, charred fields, even burned, dead, twisted and broken trees.  I’m counting on that.

It’s Not A Movie, It’s My Unexpected Life

Date: March 30, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

They came.

Government representatives, approximately eight of them.  Wearing dark jackets and sunglasses, flashing gold badges, they arrived at my home in dark Suburbans with tinted windows–just like in the movies.  Only this time it wasn’t a movie, it was my new and unexpected life.

I was embarrassed.  I was humiliated.  I was ashamed to be associated (by marriage only) with anyone and anything that required government agents entering my home, doing inventory of its contents, and compiling lists of things for seizure.  It was surreal.

They were very kind to me.  Very polite.  They quietly chatted, walked from room to room filming the contents, narrated what they were filming, they asked questions. I mostly stood in one corner of the house, in the dining room, looking out the window, seeing the same view I’d gazed at for the past 16 years so differently. Sadly, I saw everything very differently now. I tried to come to grips with what was taking place in my home around me.

But I don’t think I ever reconciled it.  I just endured it, and waited for it to be over.

I had so many questions, but hardly dared speak unless spoken to, much less dared to ask my questions.  (And it wasn’t because the officials were sullen looking, tough, or anything else.  It was completely the opposite, in fact.  They were a group of nice looking, clean cut, friendly, polite, people.  They seemed trustworthy and good.  Had I met them in any other circumstances, I really would have liked them!  That day I was just completely out of my element, still in shock, and very afraid.)

Before they left, I dared ask if they would be taking the painting my mom had painted and the things I had inherited from her.  (They weren’t worth anything monetarily, but they had huge sentimental value to me and I was prepared to fight for them.)  They assured me they would not take anything of my mom’s.  Then they told me what I could expect to happen next and when, and gave me permission to remove any personal items, household items and furniture.  They also told me they weren’t interested in my jewelry.

Then they were gone.

I went from there to meet with my attorney. The attorney I had to hire even though I hadn’t known anything was going on and had never participated in any illegal activity. It was our first meeting.  To my surprise, it actually was an encouraging meeting.  (Maybe the only encouraging meeting I attended through the whole experience!)  Not encouraging regarding money, there was no money, but encouraging regarding the rest of my life.  Here’s why.

The day my spouse told me of His crimes, He also told me He, and I (even though I had no involvement in any part of His crimes), would be “watched” the rest of our lives.  Talk about a life sentence that never ends!  Instead, my attorney told me that when everything was settled, I would be free to move on and live my life.

I had to make sure I’d heard right.  ”Free to live my life as a private citizen? Free to live a life of anonymity again?”

Yes.

What a gift freedom is.  And the opportunity to live life, quietly and privately, unexpected as it may be?  A true gift.

It’s amazing when you think you’ve lost it all, to realize that you still have the greatest gift ever given:  life.  I am so grateful for mine.  It’s not the one I imagined for myself or the one I worked to create those many years, but it is still a gift; a life of possibilities. Mine to make of it what I can and will.  That is my responsibility.  I believe that is the responsibility we each have, whatever the “life gift” we receive.

“Life is a gift, and it offers us the privilege, opportunity, and responsibility to give something back by becoming something more.” (Tony Robbins)

I also believe life is a choice.  We can choose to laugh or cry (as I’ve mentioned before); we can choose to educate ourselves or remain ignorant; we can choose to make stumbling blocks or stepping stones out of our experiences; and we can choose to press forward and carry on or give up and quit. I am grateful to have been taught to make the most of mine.  That is one gift I can give myself. All of us can.

“God gave us the gift of life; it is up to us to give ourselves the gift of living well.”  (Voltaire)