Living Happily Ever After
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Life

Date: January 4, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“One day, out of irritation, I said, you know all of those years with the Royal Shakespeare Company, all those years of playing kings and princes and speaking black verse, and bestriding the landscape of England was nothing but a preparation for sitting in the captain’s chair of the Enterprise.” (Patrick Stewart)

Jean Luc Pickard had it right.

Life doesn’t always turn out how you planned. And you’re not necessarily preparing for the future you envision. I’m not sure why we go through all we do…only to end up in some very unexpected places having experienced some unimaginable things.

But this I do know.

Our experiences teach us valuable lessons—IF we allow ourselves to learn. ”Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God, do you learn.” (C.S. Lewis)

Isn’t that the truth?

I also know this.

“You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, ‘I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.’” (Eleanor Roosevelt)

We’re stronger because of what we’ve overcome. And if we got through something that difficult, we can get through anything—especially the next unexpected new opportunities we’re blessed with!

Late last summer I took my kids swimming at a friend’s pool one Saturday. Afterward, we enjoyed a barbecue. Then we innocently returned to our home after several hours of fun. We walked into the house and noticed a strange humming sound. I thought, “Darn! Someone left the television on when we left. I’ve asked my kids not to do that a thousand times!” and in a bit of frustration, went to the turn the t.v. off. Only it wasn’t on.

My oldest headed down to his bedroom right about that time, got to the basement and cried out. In a panic I raced down the stairs to see what was wrong, got to the bottom of the stairs, and unexpectedly stepped into a puddle of water at least 6 inches deep! The entire basement of our home was flooded! The “humming” sound I’d heard was the dying echo of ruined electronic equipment.

As I stood there, water sloshing against my calves looking at the utter ruin of the lowest level of my home’s interior and its contents, I belatedly thought, “Is it possible to get shocked standing in water with electronics humming and crackling as they float by?” And then thoughts of death-by-electricity fled my mind as I realized I needed to get the water to my home shut off. A pipe must have burst.

But wouldn’t you know, inept single woman that I am, I couldn’t find it? I looked high and low, everywhere I could think of, but I couldn’t locate it. I had my children down there hunting with me and it never turned up. I assigned my son to find a male neighbor who could tell us where the water shut-off valve might be located. He returned with an actual neighbor who helped us find it and shut it off. Then he suggested we look for the pipe that had burst–the source of the water.

Would you believe there wasn’t one? The entire basement was like a giant kiddie pool but there wasn’t a source of water! The ceilings were dry, the walls were dry, but strangely, in one room, there was water spray on everything below four feet in height. It was the craziest thing.

And I learned something about myself: unsolved mysteries (aka. house floods) make me think the darndest things! After hunting high and low with my neighbor for the source of the water, and never finding one, I’m ashamed to say one of my next thoughts was, “Oh my gosh! It has FINALLY happened! A Ponzi scheme victim must have located us, broke into our home, and unleashed their anger at the situation with a hose—by flooding our home!”

That was ridiculous. I put that thought out of my mind and unexpectedly it was replaced it with, “How in the world have we made an enemy like this already? Just one year living in Utah and we’ve offended someone so badly that they’d want to flood our home?”

That’s when I noticed it.

My son’s bedroom window was cracked and broken, pieces were missing. And then I noticed grass floating in the flood, mud and grass splattered everywhere inside my home, and mud and water floating in the window well.

My neighbor and I headed outside to find the source of the water. As luck would have it, the patio and everything outside near the broken window was completely dry. NO trace of water! Where were Fred, Daphne, Thelma, Shaggy, Scooby and The Mystery Machine when I needed them? There was a mystery to be solved.

Another neighbor saw us outside and came over to see if we had noticed the water outside my home. Due to the heat of the day, the outside water had dried up, so we hadn’t seen ANY water. (That was why the situation was so puzzling!) I told him, unfortunately,the water wasn’t just outside my home, the entire interior of the basement was flooded. But at least he solved the mystery for us.

It was entirely unexpected.

There are irrigation wheels in the corner of my backyard. While I was out, a farmer came to take his watering turn and failed to check that the appropriate gates were open when he diverted his irrigation water. He drove away…and my home flooded. I wasn’t home, the farmer wasn’t there, so I didn’t know anything untoward was taking place or needed to be stopped. The water ran and ran. Unchecked. Out of control.

A different neighbor happened to look outside and saw water flooding our cul-de-sac and the connecting streets so filled with water he assumed a water main had broken. Until he tried to locate the source of the “break” and saw a literal river of water running through my backyard, into my home, and into the streets all around it. Just a little house flooding, courtesy of a farmer who failed to check (as they are always supposed to) that the appropriate diversion gates are open. Just one little gate. I NEVER expected that!

I don’t think the farmer did either. As he told me later that night, “I’ve been doing this 30 years and I’ve never had a problem. I never thought to check that the south gate was open. It’s not your fault, it’s not my fault; these things happen. That’s what your homeowner’s insurance is for.” The farmer advised me to get my belongings out of my basement as fast as I could. I never expected that, either.

I stood there, alone, with my four children and thought, “How in the world am I supposed to clear my basement all by myself?” (I was tending a baby at the time, as well.) I was overwhelmed. But that is a great thing about Utah. (Get ready for another one of those, “Only in Utah” moments.) My son went to one neighbor and asked if he could help us move some furniture out of our basement as it had flooded, he came right over, took one look, made a phone call and within minutes, literally, there were 30-40 people from our neighborhood and church congregation hauling our belongings out of the flood and into our front yard. An impossible task was completed in a matter of an hour or so.

I helped, I hauled, and then I confess, I had a moment of meltdown. I escaped to the privacy of my bathroom, called a friend in Denver, CO, and lost it. For a moment there, I was afraid a house flood was going to be my undoing. Silly, I know, but after a year of shock, trauma, and attempted recovery, I was temporarily at my limit.

Thankfully, my friend “talked me down,” we laughed and I put the situation in perspective. Really, after EVERYTHING I had lived through, a house flood wasn’t that big of a deal.

Really.

Truly.

And I knew it.

Sadly, compared to decades of lies, betrayal, crime, drama, divorce, vilification and everything else played out in the media and on a public stage, a flood really wasn’t that big of a deal. I had lived through worse. Much worse. So that’s what I said when people expressed their sympathy regarding the flood. “We’ve lived through worse. Not a big deal. It’s just stuff. It will be ok.”

I never expected the collapse of my family and the public downfall we endured would  be preparation for a flood; would help me keep it all in perspective. But it was. And it did. We’ve certainly survived worse.

In the unexpected life.

Yet still, “I doubt whether the world holds for any one a more soul-stirring surprise than the first adventure with ice-cream.” (Heywood Braun)

Or your first house flood.

What Miracle Is Wrought

Date: December 15, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Don’t rush me sonny. You rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles.” (“The Princess Bride”)

Not long ago, I was reviewing my unexpected life; pondering all that has happened and the many miracles I have received since March 18, 2009. There have been many.

Although, it’s funny what you become accustomed to. For awhile, my situation was so desperate I was blessed with huge miracle after miracle. They almost became “the norm!” Then I realized it had been awhile since I’d experienced a jaw dropping miracle so I thought, “That must be a sign that I’m healing and things are getting back to normal. I guess I must not need many big miracles any more.” (And I admit there was a tiny part of me that was sad miracles, for me, had ceased. I felt like I still needed a little help!)

I should have known better.  ”Miracles happen everyday, change your perception of what a miracle is and you’ll see them all around you.” (Jon Bon Jovi)

The other day, one of my cute, single college student co-workers shared a miracle she received with me: someone purchased a plane ticket for her to fly to visit her family at Christmas. She was so touched, and so grateful, she felt like crying! I was happy for her, and full of gratitude and admiration for whoever made that possible for my friend.

It made me think about miracles I’ve received. For example, that my children and I have remained healthy and safe the past 21 months is a miracle. That we have wonderful old and new friends that bless our lives is a miracle. That I got a job in a tough economy after not working for 19 years is a miracle. That I survived two corporate down sizings, and kept my job, is a miracle. And last but not least, not only did Bachelor #5 arrive in our lives, but that he continues to hang in there with me during an engagement much longer than either of us anticipated as we prepare to marry some time in 2011 and blend two families and eight children is also a miracle!

I could go on and on.

I receive miracles every day; but I’m overwhelmed by tender mercies lately. The following have all come to me THIS month:

As mentioned earlier, my neighbor fixed my car. It was a blessing to have it repaired. And of course, it goes without saying that each time we drive it, we continue to be grateful for functioning windows and a warm driving experience!

I got a little bonus at my work Christmas party last week, which will allow me to purchase Christmas gifts for each of my children.

Two issues that have plagued me since my spouse revealed his Ponzi scheme and crimes, were finally resolved. THAT is a miracle.

We got to see a current movie in a theater (AND buy treats!), courtesy of a Denver man who saw the NBC-affiliate news story that ran on our family and he contacted us with words of encouragement–and a gift card to a movie theater so we could enjoy a movie as a family! It was the first time we’ve been able to do that since our unexpected life began and it was a thrill! In fact, I don’t think my youngest remembers ever seeing a movie in a theater. Current movies in real theaters are one of those “luxuries” that aren’t in our family budget any more. The man said that although throwing rocks is fun, so are movies, and he is right! What a great start to our holiday season.

I guess the season for miracles in my life is not over.

And I realize that it never is.

For any one.

Regardless of which end of the miracle you’re on.

“When we do the best that we can, we never know what miracle is wrought in our life, or in the life of another.” (Helen Keller)

Well-Meant Advice?

Date: June 24, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

As I returned to the dating scene after 20 years of marriage to the same man, and following my divorce from that man as soon as his criminal behavior and Ponzi scheme was revealed to me, I got some unsolicited, but well-meant advice from a neighbor.

He came over one day to tell me he noticed I’d begun dating.

I was surprised anyone knew. I certainly wasn’t trying to hide my activities, but due to work and children and my busy life, the dates usually didn’t begin until 8 p.m. or 9 p.m. and it was dark well before then. He said, “Oh no. This is a tight knit neighborhood, it’s a very small world, we watch out for each other, we’ve seen men and cars coming and going, we know.”

He told me that when he saw me move in, single, with four children, his first thought was, “Oh no, here we go.” He told me experts advise single people with children to remain single until all of their children are raised. He told me 40-year-olds just want to get married, and actually the best thing for 40-year-olds to do, is to keep dating “on the perimeter” and instead, raise your children. Lastly, he told me no man was going to want me and my four children.

I was a little confused as the man had been married, and divorced, several times. He told me of the struggles he had gone through, many of them child-related, and that was why he was sharing his thoughts. He also told me that he and his current wife were the one-in-a-million miracle of remarriage, and that if I knew their story, I would understand why they had married but that theirs was a very unique situation.

I was stunned.

I was raised on fairy tales. I love happy endings. I had always tried to be a good person, I believed in hard work, I wasn’t a quitter, I sought to have hope time and again even in spite of getting thrown into the deepest messes (not of my own creation) and carry on as best I could no matter what…and there wasn’t one more miracle out there?

I believe, “For every mountain there is a miracle.” (Robert H. Schuller) I’d seen enough tender mercies and miracles in my own life and in the lives of others to know, “We can see a thousand miracles around us every day. What is more supernatural than an egg yolk turning into a chicken?” (S. Parkes Cadman) We just have to look for them.

But I didn’t say any of that. I simply said the experts’ advice didn’t work for me. I had been married, and happily so (I thought) for 20 years. I liked being married and I believed in marriage and if I waited until my last child was raised to begin dating, I wasn’t going to even BEGIN dating until I was almost 60 years old! I felt way too young to waste my “youth,” not to mention the fact that I didn’t love being single…or alone…or lonely. Having had 20 years of companionship, I REALLY noticed its void in my life.

My neighbor left, his advice weighed heavily upon me, and in the end as I had done my entire life, but especially during the events of 2009, I had to continue to do what I felt was best for me and for my children. Despite what the critics thought. So although I appreciated his good intentions, I disagreed with the counsel he had volunteered, and I chose to continue the course I’d set and the decision I had made to date. (And of course, I called my sister and a trusted friend and got their opinion. Just to be sure.)

On to the next man.

“Can you imagine a world without men? No crime and lots of happy fat women.” (Marion Smith/Nicole Hollander)

*Just kidding about the above quote. I love and appreciate men. I just thought it was funny and had to share! I know women break the law too, it just has been my experience that SOME men do participate in illegal activities, like Ponzi schemes…:)

Volumes of “Lies”

Date: April 22, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I got a fun comment and suggestion from a former Colorado neighbor (that identity alone should explain what is coming) and client of my former spouse the other day. He, along with many others, has discovered this blog and is apparently QUITE a fan! He not only takes the time to read it, he even spends time commenting.

He kindly pointed out I’ve mistakenly titled my blog. He suggested the title of this blog should be “lies, lies and more lies.” In his honor, and to give credit where credit is due, I feel compelled to blog about that.

The first thing I did when I saw it was LAUGH. I got a kick out of his suggestion not just because it is totally ridiculous (and inaccurate) but because, in a way, I could relate.

You see, I have been a pretty good journal writer most of my life. I got my first journal about age 12 and have been quite consistent over the years in recording the events of my life. In 2009, after my former spouse revealed that He had been running a ponzi scheme most of our marriage, that He was heading to prison, that everything I thought we had was gone, and that I would be left alone to raise and provide for our four children, I had to prepare to move from our home and begin a new life. Having lived in the same home for 16 years, there was a lot of work to be done. Lots of packing. And one day I got to packing the room my old journals were stored in.

As I looked at the approximately 30 volumes I’d written over the previous years of my life, I didn’t know what to do with them.  I treasured the books I’d written as a youth and college student–everything prior to my marriage to Him.  But what to do with the journals recording the life I’d led married to a criminal? As I handled each one, I wasn’t sure what to think of them anymore.

Although what I had written and recorded was life as I had known it (because I had no idea what was going on in the double life my spouse had been leading for 15 years or even that he was living a double life), in that moment, none of the history I’d recorded seemed true or real. At that time, everything was so tainted by the dishonesty and criminal behavior of one man, I felt like I was in possession of Volume 1 of Lies, Volume 2 of Lies, and so on.

What DO you do with volumes of words that don’t seem to be real anymore?

I still haven’t decided.

But I’m afraid I’m going to need a storage unit for the memories! lol. A place to hold the volumes of personal history, the wedding photos from 1989, and everything else that is not mine anymore…that I still am not sure what to do with.  The only thing I’m sure of is time.

I have time to decide.

Because,”Time heals what reason cannot.” (Seneca, Roman philosopher in the mid-1st century A.D.)

A Case of Bad Birthday Judgement

Date: April 8, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

It’s a fact.  Nobody is perfect.

And in 2009, like every other year, I didn’t handle every situation, perfectly, all of the time.

And probably no time did I exercise poor judgement in the eyes of outsiders more than my oldest son’s 16th birthday. Unfortunately for him, His dad chose to reveal His crimes a few weeks prior to his birthday.  So instead of the milestone birthday many teens mark, my son lost his entire life as he knew it, including any chance of a birthday present.  We had NO money.  Nothing material to give him.  Not the birthday experience I’d expected to provide for my oldest child at 16 years old, for sure.

His dad had purchased an Aston Martin V-8 Vantage a few years before.  My son LOVED that car.  His dream had been to drive that car and his dad had always said when our son turned 16, he could drive it. By the time my son actually was 16, however, his dad had turned himself in to the government authorities and confessed to running a ponzi scheme for the previous 15 or more years, all of our assets had been frozen, investigators had come to our home and had scheduled the car for seizure, and a Colorado spring snowstorm was coming.

In a fit of madness possibly only mothers of teenage boys/car enthusiasts could understand (or maybe my judgement was so off no one will ever understand!) I decided my son would take the Aston Martin for a 10-15 minute drive before snow came and the car was gone. For his birthday. As his present. It was all I had to give him.

I told my spouse the plan.  He was against it but for once, for the first time in our marriage, I didn’t listen to His opinion AT ALL and I honestly didn’t care what His opinion was.  My spouse had made His choices, and because of His choices, my children and I didn’t get to make any.  My son’s birthday was upon us, his reality and dreams had been shattered, and I had nothing to give him except a memory.

My spouse resigned himself to the decision I had made, but stipulated the drive had to take place in the dark so there would be less chance of neighbors and victims finding out. (We were under surveillance 24 hours a day.  Every move we made was watched and reported to the victims and the authorities.) Wrong again.  (Poor judgement, again, on my part.)  I was planning to take a picture of the drive that my son could keep to document his 16th birthday and the only “gift” he got.

Of course I (and my poor judgement) won.  My son took the Aston Martin for a 10-15 minute spin–and as he pulled out of the driveway I forced a smile, gave him a “thumbs up” hand sign, and snapped a photo of him in the driver’s seat. He was beaming! Thrilled.  I will never forget the look of delight on his face as he drove away.

I didn’t have a gift to give him, but I got to make one of his dreams come true instead.

Later that evening, as my spouse was driving my daughter to a class, a neighbor stepped in front of the car and stopped Him. He yelled, he cussed, he said the most vile and hateful and despicable things to my spouse IN THE PRESENCE OF MY DAUGHTER. She was sitting in the passenger seat and had to endure every word.  His tirade went on and on–and then he ran and told all of the neighbors what the Merrimans were up to in their house of crime.

My daughter was physically sick from the experience.

I believe both “sides” exercised poor judgement that day.  Believe it or not, I try to see all sides to the situation, and I have tried to do that from the very beginning. (Sometimes I feel like I, and a few select former “investors”, one of whom I have already written about, are the only few embroiled in the mess of my former spouse’s creation who do.) But poor judgement or not, I would not change a single choice I made relative to letting my son drive the Astin Martin and having that memory as his birthday gift.  One year later he is still talking about it, remembering it, and rejoicing in that 10 minute drive as only a teenage boy and car enthusiast can.

The next day the neighbor called me and apologized for doing what he did in front of my daughter. He said what he did was inexcusable.  I silently agreed with him…and then I forgave him. He is a decent man.  My judgement may be imperfect but my vision is clear.  I can see all sides.