Looking Down at the Storm Copyright Š 2010 Clarice Miller Deshalamar Industries All rights reserved.
DEDICATION My children are my life, I’ve always said if the only thing I ever do with my life is be a good mother and raise four wonderful children I would be truly happy. I would be satisfied just knowing I created four beautiful babies and taught them about life and how loving yourself is the best love and being a true friend to yourself as well as others is the most rewarding way to live. I am so proud of my children, Karon, Sharron, Michael and Faith and all of their accomplishments in growing into four individual amazing people! I dedicate this book to them as well as my Partner and best friend Deon D. Leftenant, these last ten years, our lives have been living proof of what God can do!
“I surrender; I can’t do this alone anymore.” “I can’t spend one more minute hating you, I give my life to you now, you lead the way.” God often looks down at the storms below him, guiding people to the correct paths as they humbly live their lives in Him. Clarice Miller was such a person guided by God’s grace. She walked below the deep, dark storm clouds, unknowingly following the path God had set her on. Clarice fell from spiritual growth in God after a man of faith sexually abused her. After seeing the destruction that the world had set before her, she fell away from God, instead following a path of self-destruction. The town she lived in became her place of suffering—not just for herself, but for her family, as well. In a demented twist of fate, the same disease that was killing her family was the same name of the town she lived in. After years of abuse at the hands of someone she devoted her life to, she found the path that God had been leading her on. Find out how Clarice’s courageous walk in faith casts out the storm clouds, giving her new life and determination to live free of abuse for herself and her beloved children. Clarice Miller, a single mother and business owner, lived an early life as a victim. Only through her faith in God did she learn that living for God means that nothing is impossible. She hopes her story will bring hope to others and inspire them to never give up and keep moving forward.
Introduction I remember Theresa. I remember a time when she was full of hope, a time when she still knew what it was like to dream. I remember all of it. Such a sad life she’d had, all the way to the end. But she never gave up. Somehow she had an inner strength that kept her going. She never knew where it came from, sometimes she didn't even acknowledge it, but it was always there even in the beginning, all the way to the end. Somehow I imagined her taking it with her. I have a shoe box in my closet, every once in a while I’ll take it down and re-visit its contents; her driver’s license, social security cards for her and the children, stacks of orders of protections, against her ex-husband. Pictures of her bruises, the ones he gave her right before she left him, the ones she never told anyone about, just her and her Polaroid. Her divorce papers are in the box. Her custody papers, those were her most prized possession, papers saying that her children belonged to her and her alone. She’d cherished that document. The divorce papers didn't matter as much to her. She never could remember the exact date the divorce was finalized, official. You see to her, she had been divorced to him for years, in her heart...
I don’t visit with the box often, she is gone now, but the last time I took down the box I couldn’t help but wonder if anyone else remembered her. Did anyone wonder where she went? Did anyone think “Hey, remember that nice girl? What happened to her? One day she was just gone”. I know a lot of people must have wondered, people she worked with, her friends who she shared her day with, people she served coffee to in the bagel shop she’d worked in for seven years, they must have wondered,” Where was Theresa?” “What happened to her?” “Where did she go?” If you asked a lot of people, “Do you remember Theresa?” They would say “Yes I remember her!” But I remember her too. Somehow I just can’t seem to forget. Even now I’ll read her journals, what’s left of them, and wonder, how did she keep going? How did she keep her faith? Where did her strength come from? Even I don’t understand that, and I was closest to her. I knew all her secrets, even the ones she couldn't talk about. I knew all her dreams, even the ones she pretended not to have. She used to say “If you can’t have it, what’s the use in dreaming about it?” But that was just one of her defenses to keep her heart from breaking, (and it did, it broke so many times), but she would use her strength to pick up the pieces and move on. I always wished she could have found
someone strong enough to love her, the way she needed to be loved. She came close a few times, she had a brick wall around her heart that no one was strong enough to get inside of. It’s such a shame, because even though her life was a living hell, she had this amazing ability to love, to truly love. In the end she finally learned to love herself enough to do what she needed to do. And not look back with regrets, but go out with the strength of a beautiful strong woman. I used to think that if I could make just one of her dreams come true for her then I’d be just as strong as she was. Everyone that knew her told her the same thing. “You should write a book”, and she could have, she had such talent when it came to putting her words onto paper, her poetry was beautiful, and her journals made you feel like you took every step with her. She used to say “I write in my journals to remember the good I've experienced, and also not to forget the bad, it helps me learn from my mistakes and to see mistakes others have made towards me, and it helps me to learn from it all , the good and the bad, even if the bad outweighs the good”. Theresa always said “someday” “someday I’ll write that book, I’ll put it all down and then maybe just one person will read it and it will make a difference in their life,
and then it wouldn't have all been for nothing.” Theresa used to say “Where would I start? “She’d tried the beginning but it was too painful, and the middle was worse, her ending was the hardest. But it’s not too late. Because that’s where I come in, I loved her enough to live inside her heart and remember her. I loved her enough to learn from her mistakes and feel her strength. I’ll pass that strength to her children, and if it can flow out through my pen, then maybe when you read it, it will make a difference in your way of thinking or touch your heart in a way only she could do.
Chapter One When Theresa was born, she was already coming into a hard life. It was 1970. Her parents were older than most kids’ parents were. All her cousins were already having children of their own. She had the big Italian family. On her fathers’ side was grandpa Giovanni, her grandmother Felicia had already passed on in the early 1900’s. I have an article from Newsday that reads “Mother dying: GI son stuck in Philippines.” The article goes on to tell about how Felicia’s dying wish was to see her son, one last time. He was stationed somewhere in the Philippines, and was
probably on his way to Japan. The article had written her name as “Elizabeth”. This was because when they came to America in the early 1900’s they had to take American names, Giovanni became John. Felicia became Elizabeth. At the time of Felicia’s death, Kate was 29, Sam was 27, John Jr. was 24, Nicholina was 22, Margaret was 20 and Rocco was 18. They lived in Oyster Bay, New York. Rocco, Theresa’s father, had a bad hip, and had to walk with crutches. When he was admitted to Glen Clove Hospital to have hip surgery, it was there that he met the twins. Grace and Lucy: They were identical twins, both nurses at the hospital. Like Rocco, they had a big family that came to America from Italy. Their parents’ names were now John and Mary; I’m not sure what their Italian names were. They had eleven children, the youngest were the twins. When the twins were 5 yrs. old, their mother, Mary passed away. She had a neurological disease called Huntington’s chorea. They didn’t know much about the disease back then. Just that most of the patients wound up in mental institutions because no one could care for them at home and the hospitals weren’t equipped for them. Huntington’s chorea: First you get real depressed. So depressed that you’d rather be dead then feel the way do,
because you feel it all the time, Then, you get terrible headaches, terrible. They blow migraines away. Next you start to forget things, like what someone told you just yesterday, and then you get mad because you don’t think you forgot anything. Then you start twitching, just subtle, little twitches. Then before long you move your feet. I don’t mean you move your feet around. I mean your feet are constantly moving, nonstop back and forth left and right up and down, all the time. So you try to keep them still .You concentrate with all your might not to move your feet, and you do it for a long time. Then you notice your fingers are moving, or your hand and you can’t remember when you moved them. At first no one can even notice, except if they know about the disease. You can hide it real well. Mood swings, well, one minute you’re fine, then bam. You’re mad at something, or someone. Order, you need order. If one thing is in its wrong place, you can’t stop thinking about it until you go put it back. All because something inside isn’t right and you can feel it, but you don’t know what it is. Then after a few years everything intensifies, you can’t control other parts of your body, like your legs. Your neck, eventually your lips, your tongue. You lose the ability to control what you say long ago, conversations are no more than two words long, the same words over and over because that’s how far you brain can
process your thoughts. But you can still get mad at something , because you can see everything that was going on around you, and take it all in, and you still have your long term memories, but life is hard, and all that time to think of past pain and not be able to speak just one sentence, that would make anyone go crazy. So back then the mental institutions were all they had. They didn’t know much about the disease back then. Huntington’s chorea, that’s what it was called then, now it’s called Huntington’s disease. Tuesday, October 22, 2002. There was an article in Newsday that headlined “tricking Huntington’s Disease Gene to shut off” In 1993 they found the Huntington’s disease gene. Nine years later they are trying to trick the gene, to shut off, they’ll get it, they will. I have faith that they will. Huntington’s disease is called a “family disease” It is called this for two reasons. First, it is an inherited disease. Each child of parent who has the mutated gene has a 50% chance of also inheriting the gene. What a way to live. You see the disease doesn’t affect you usually until your thirties. Well, between then and your fifties. Some cases of juvenile Huntington’s disease have been known and also in the elderly. So basically it can start at any time. But most likely you’re OK, until you hit 30. If you have the mutated gene, you get the disease. If you have the mutated gene, your children have
a 50% chance of you passing it on to them. If you don’t have the mutated gene, you don’t get it. And if you don’t have the mutated gene you can’t pass it on to your children. Theresa did not have the mutated gene. But she didn’t know that until she was 27 years old. It is also called a family disease because of how it affects the family of the person who has Huntington’s disease. This is how I see it, back when John and Mary were dealing with the disease; their children were being born before they even knew the disease existed. Their children grew up knowing the disease existed; now they wondered “Do I have it?”” Do I get married and take the chance of passing this on or do I never have children so the disease isn’t passed on?” What a way to live. Shortly after Mary’s death, John died of a broken heart. He jumped down an empty elevator shaft. The older children went off on their own, two got married, one went to live on an Indian reservation out west, one went to Las Vegas to become a musician, The younger children were scattered in different orphanages, the twins were the only two who remained together. Thankfully they were together, because they endured every type of abuse over the next twelve years. When they were 17, they were able to take a job as nannies with a wealthy family in
Connecticut. The couple Mr. and Mrs. Connor had two young boys named David and Samuel. The boys were happy, and very adventurous. They kept Lucy and Grace busy, and the twins loved the boys. The Connors’ came to love the twins. They took them to wonderful places, places they could have never gone on their own. But because the twins were working and getting paid for it, they were allowed to go. They had to give all the money they made to the people they were living with at the time. When the Connors found out they were concerned, they had hoped the twins had saved the money for school. When the twins were 18 The Connors asked them to move in with them. They told them they were like family to them, and they were. The twins didn’t have to think twice before they moved into their first real home. The Connors were wonderful to the twins. They helped them get in touch with their brothers and sisters, and they made it possible for them to see each other again as often as possible. They took the twins all over the world. They had album after album full of photographs documenting their happiness. The twins both decided to go to nursing school and became RNs. That was how they met Rocco, Theresa’s Father. Rocco was a kind decent, honest, hardworking man, whom everyone adored.
Rocco met Grace first. She thought he would like her sister Lucy and he did. Lucy is Theresa’s mother. November 24, 1965, Rocco and Lucy were married at St. Dominick’s in Oyster Bay, New York, the same church where the pastor had helped try to bring Sam home from the war to see his dying mother. Grace was Lucy’s maid of honor. Grace never married. Being a nurse, she knew too well Huntington’s chorea was hereditary; there was no cure, and there was no hope for a cure. She remembered the pain all too well of losing her mother and father and all the repercussions that followed. Lucy and Rocco had discussed this all before the wedding. Rocco told her he loved her so much that he wanted to marry her and have a family and hope for a cure, and be there with her if they never found one, maybe by the time their children were grown they’d find the cure. Rocco told her, “Put it in Gods’ hands.” Rocco had such faith in God. Rocco and Lucy bought a three bedroom house in Huntington, Long Island. One bathroom, full basement, they had a pool table and a washer and dryer. Big eat in kitchen, living room, dining room. In the dining room they hung the antique Italian mirror Mrs. Schmitt had given them as an engagement gift .It had been in her family for
years. Rocco and Lucy would visit her often, they loved the mirror. It was beautiful, with thick Italian glass, layered with glass trim all the way around, big enough to cover the whole wall in the dining room. They had a fenced in yard. The neighborhood was very nice. It’s strange how the disease was called Huntington’s, and the town was Huntington, spelled the same way. Rocco and Lucy were married a year and then John Leonard was born. John after both of their fathers and Leonard after Lucy’s oldest brother. John was a healthy little boy, happy and adventurous. When he was two Rocco and Lucy decided to take in two foster children, Marilyn and Madeline, two year old twins. Their mother had neglected them and they were so malnourished their bellies stuck out from swelling. They had an older sister who was already adopted by another family. Rocco and Lucy had decided not to have any more children of their own. Lucy was getting older, and they still hadn’t found a cure for Huntington’s disease. But they stayed hopeful and said a lot of prayers. They had discussed it before they were married. It was in Gods’ h an d s . When Little John- John was four years old, (they called him John- John because he was named after both of his grandfathers, John and John), his twin sisters were leaving to go live with someone else. He loved them very
much and wanted them to stay. There were many reasons; first, Lucy was almost 30 years old now. Huntington’s starts in your 30s. It wasn’t fair to the twins to have them endure the pain Huntington’s chorea brings. Secondly, three young children were hard for Lucy to handle. And thirdly, Lucy was pregnant. It wasn’t supposed to happen, but sometimes these things just do. Giving the twins back was such a hard decision to make. It was heart breaking, for John-John, and for Lucy. And as for Rocco. I don’t think he ever got over it. In some ways he wanted to blame Lucy; sometimes he wanted to blame God. But he never blamed either one of them, he blamed Huntington’s chorea. November 29, 1970. Theresa Mary was born. She was a healthy happy baby with big cheeks and she was very loved. Rocco, Lucy John-John and Theresa lived in Huntington Station, New York. They had a yard, and a pool. It was a very nice neighborhood where the children had friends, and two dogs, Tiny, a Pomeranian, and Tim, a black lab. They would visit the Connors in Connecticut at least five times a year. They saw Rocco’ family all the time, always on holidays. They would have big parties and all the family and family friends would come. John-John and Theresa were surrounded by love. Over the summers they would have B- B-Qs. Uncle Blaize and Aunt Dorothy would
come often. They were Lucy and Graces’ brother and sister. The older brothers, Leonard, Danny and, John would come as often as they could but they lived further away. The rest of the brothers would write but never did get together. The brother who went west to live on the Indian reservation had passed on. One day Lucy got a box delivered to the house with all of Peter’s belongings, his feathers and photos. The box was in the attic alongside of all the immigration papers from when Rocco’s family came from Italy along with the Christmas decorations. They went to church every Sunday morning at St. Hugh’s Roman Catholic Church. John-John and Theresa were both baptized Roman Catholic. When Theresa was four, and John-John was eight, Aunt Grace, Lucy’s twin, came to live with them for a while. Theresa was so happy because she loved Aunt Grace the most out of all her aunts, and her grown cousins. John-John and Theresa were typical children best of friends one minute, fighting the next. They were always getting into something. John-John had been in school ever since Theresa could remember and Daddy was at work all day. Mommy liked to play, tea parties, baby dolls. Theresa had fun with Mommy at home, and now Aunt Grace was there so it was even more fun because then Theresa had
two people she loved to play with. But then things changed. Aunt Grace moved out, she’d met a woman and her husband who was a pastor and they had a church nearby that Aunt Grace wanted to go to, she said they were good people and they were going to rent her a room in their home so she would be moving out. Theresa missed Aunt Grace. She had gotten used to her living in the same house, in her house; she liked it when Aunt Grace was around. Lucy wanted to go to the new church with her sister, so they would get to see Aunt Grace all the time. Theresa loved her father very much and she missed him when he was at work. One of Theresa’s earliest memories was when her daddy was in the hospital, having surgery on his hip again. Theresa was too young to go visit in the hospital, and Theresa wouldn’t stop crying so her Uncle held her up outside the hospital so she could wave to her daddy. She just cried, she missed him so much. She was in diapers at the time. But she never forgot how much she wanted to see her daddy. She was daddy’s little girl. Theresa would wait by the door every night around six. She knew when it was time for Daddy to get home. Right after she set the table for dinner. As soon as she was done setting the table for dinner, Daddy got home. One
day she missed her daddy so much that she set the table for dinner after lunch. She sat there at the table in Daddy’s chair for the rest of the afternoon. Mommy didn’t even notice. She was watching TV. It was starting, before JohnJohn or Theresa ever knew what it was. Huntington’s disease: The hereditary disease, the one that is called a family disease, had started, John- John was eight, and Theresa was four. That was the family, the family that Huntington’s disease infected. Ate up, and tore apart.
Chapter Two When Theresa was four she started kindergarten. She never forgot the first day of school, how scared she was. She was the youngest kid in her class because her birthday was in November so she had to start at age 4 instead of 5. She was scared for other reasons too. That was the year that they started going to the new church. There weren’t as many members as in the Catholic Church, not even half as many but somehow the church had become such a big part of their lives. They were becoming what they called the church family. And little by little the church family came before their real family. They didn’t go visit their family or friends as often and people started coming to the house less and less. The only time they ever got together
anymore was on holidays and at parties. I think the reason they got so involved in the church was because they promised healing if you believed. And their beliefs were all they had when it came to Huntington’s disease. They knew it was starting. Blaize and Dorothy were getting worse. Word had it that all but one brother had gotten the disease, but he never married or had children and was an alcoholic, so the disease got him anyway. Because the waiting was the worst part; waiting to see if you notice your foot twitching, or if you repeat your words too often. Waiting to enjoy the life you have because you don’t want to enjoy it too much, a spouse or child could only be caused pain, so why bother? Grace had already been diagnosed. John-John and Theresa knew nothing of this disease. They just thought Mommy was tired, or mad, or maybe just crazy. What did they know? And the guilt Rocco and Lucy must have felt! They must have felt hopeless; it had been years, still no progress on a cure. Now they could prescribe medication, but they weren’t sure if it would help, they knew it couldn’t stop the disease, but they could try to control depression and mood swings. This new church was very different from the Roman Catholic Church. Their songs were so powerful. Loud music
and singing, people would raise their hand in the air to worship God. Some would jump up and down. Some would speak in a different tongue. Theresa never knew what they were saying, but when they were done speaking the pastor would tell the church what they’d said, usually he would tell them that God loved them, to feel his power. Sometimes he’d say “God wants you to speak to his people, reach every sinner and bring them to God.” That was when it all started. The church family was such a big part of their lives. Sunday mornings they would go to church, then after church they would all go back to whoever’s turn it was to have everyone over and eat lunch then back to church for the evening service. Monday nights was woman’s group, Tuesday’s kids club, Wednesdays and Fridays bible study. And Thursdays everyone would visit with people in nursing homes or hospitals. Saturdays were the days they’d go door to door hoping to bring more people to church. This left little time for anything but the church family, they would talk about God, and how we as a family could serve Him. They would talk about sins of the world, which included everything, drinking, smoking, television, being with people who weren’t of the church family and not trying to save their souls. At four years old, this scared Theresa. She was scared because Daddy drank beer, Daddy smoked
cigarettes, and none of the kids at her new school were a part of the church family. How could they make her go to a place every day full of sinners? How could they send her to a place where no one from the church family was? How could they? So much had changed, she was only four years old and so many questions, no one seemed to have the answers for. “Mommy, why do I have to go to school?” “Theresa get dressed you’re gonna miss the bus.” “But Mommy I don’t feel good, I wanna stay home with you.” “You can’t stay home with me. Get dressed, it’s getting late. John already went to the bus stop.” “But Mommy, why can’t you walk me to the bus stop?” “Theresa I’m tired.” Why was Mommy always tired? Why wouldn’t she give her an answer as to why she had to go to a place and spend the day with sinners? Why didn’t she understand that the Pastor said if you spent time with sinners you were a sinner too, he said it all the time. Don’t be like them, don’t spend time with them, and don’t be around people who weren’t of the church family. She wished Daddy was home. Daddy might have the answers, but
Daddy was at work, and Mommy didn’t seem to know. She just wanted Theresa to get dressed and get on the school bus. Mommy didn’t understand that Theresa thought that if she went to school and spent the day with people who weren’t of the church family that their sins would somehow rub off on her, and she wouldn’t be clean anymore, Theresa heard the pastor all the time saying “Are you clean enough for God?” Theresa was so confused. She didn’t know how to make Mommy listen to her, she didn’t know why every time she asked Mommy a question her answer was “Theresa I’m tired.” Theresa walked to the bus stop and saw her brother there. She walked up to him and held his hand while they waited for the school bus, the bus that would take them to a place she was afraid to go. She started to cry, John asked her what was wrong. “I don’t feel good,” she said through her tears. Her brother walked her home. Mommy saw them come in the door. “What happened?” “She’s sick.” John left her there and went back to wait for the bus. Theresa had tears running down her little face; her mother put her back in bed and took her temperature. No fever, but she stayed home that day, she stayed in her bed, in
her house with her Mommy. She tried to go back to bed, but she couldn’t sleep. She stayed in her room while her mother was in the living room watching television. Theresa wondered why all Mommy did was watch television. She used to sew, she used to clean the house, and do laundry and play games. She never played games anymore, she was always too tired. Theresa went to her book shelf and got her bible. She didn’t know how to read it but she knew that it was Gods words. She held her bible and tried to sleep. All she could do was cry, four years old, so confused. She was so scared all the time. A few months ago Theresa was happy. A few months ago life was happy for her; but over the summer everything changed. Aunt Grace had moved out. She no longer saw her family, just the church family. She was being forced to go to a place she didn’t want to go. She no longer liked to play outside, and couldn’t go in the pool anymore. You see that summer, there had been a snake in the pool, and she was afraid of snakes. No one saw the snake, no one believed her that it was even there, but she knew it was there. She was in the pool on her tubie the pastor was holding onto the tubie and pulling her around the pool. She was laughing, having fun. Then she felt the snake on her leg. When she first felt it she didn’t know what it was. Then she felt it again, and she knew it was a
snake. She felt it on her leg, felt it moving on her leg, then it went between her legs and she screamed. No one knew what she was screaming about, she yelled, “Snake! Snake!” Then it was gone, but no one saw it, she didn’t know why pastor didn’t see it; he was right behind her. She didn’t know why no one could see it when they looked in the pool. They just said there was “nothing there,” and “snakes don’t go in pools”, but she knew it was there, she’d felt it on her leg. She wondered if God had put the snake in the pool to punish her, punish her because God knew she was going to be spending the whole day with sinners. Theresa thought God was mad at her, He must have been, she had terrible nightmares every night, in her dreams God would tell her that she was dirty. “If you spend the day with sinners you’re a sinner too”. It must have been true because Pastor had said it over and over, and God spoke to us through Pastor, that’s what the church family said. Pastor was one of Gods speakers. God speaks to us through Pastor. Theresa went to school the next day, but she cried. She cried at the bus stop. She cried on the bus. She cried in the classroom. All the kids made fun of her, and to Theresa that proved that they really were sinners, “Gods’ children don’t say mean things to each other.” That’s what Pastor s a ys .
Chapter Three Theresa didn’t do well academically in school. She hadn’t made any friends. She went as often as she could, but some days she just couldn’t. Some days she would wake up from a nightmare and actually throw up. Those days she didn’t go to school. She went to the doctor, but they didn’t know what was wrong with her. Theresa’s mother would tell the doctor, she has headaches every day, she throws up all the time, she cries all the time. But the doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with Theresa. At church they would pray over her, they would pour oil on her head, the pastor said that the oil was holy, that when you prayed and anointed with the holy oil God would grant your prayers. Theresa didn’t know what to say when Daddy asked her what was wrong. She would just shrug her shoulders. She didn’t know how to tell him she was afraid all the time, she didn’t know how to tell him that in her dreams God hated her because she wasn’t clean enough. The church had become such a big part of the daily life in her family that when she wasn’t at home or in the church or at one of the church family’s homes, she just didn’t feel safe, she felt like when she was at school the devil would be able to get her. She feared the devil so much. She hated
him. She would talk to God all the time. “God please don’t let me be scared anymore.” She asked God to protect her when she was at school. “God please make the other kids stop being mean to me. God please don’t let them pull my hair anymore. God please make the teachers be nice to me.” Theresa loved God; she wanted God to love her. Her nightmares went away for a long time. And she went to school every day. She knew God would protect her while she was there. She knew God would love her if she was a good girl and she tried so hard. She tried to read, but just didn’t get it, when she should have been paying attention to how to read, she’d been worried about being in a room full of sinners, so now that she was feeling like she was safe because God was watching over her, she was behind in her reading and math she just didn’t get either for the same reasons. All the other kids called her stupid, she felt stupid, but she was just glad not to be scared anymore. Summer came and went, Theresa didn’t swim in the pool at all that year, the snake last summer was still on her mind, she never understood why no one else saw it, why no one believed her that it was there, but she knew it had been, she’d felt it on her leg. She wasn’t gonna take the chance of it coming back to get her. Instead she spent that
summer with her mother, learning how to sew. Her mother would make Theresa’s dresses and make matching dresses for her dolls, and Theresa would watch the whole time every move her mother made, every stitch the sewing machine made. Theresa learned how to sew when she was six, by watching her mother. That summer they took a trip to Connecticut, to visit with Lucy’s brother and sister, Uncle Blaze and Aunt Dorothy. They usually came for BBQ’s over the summer but this year they didn’t come. They’d stopped at the store before they left for the trip, they bought bananas, and soft mints and Theresa wondered why they were getting those things when she knew her aunt and uncle loved corn on the cob and hamburgers. But she didn’t ask why, she was just happy to be going to see them, she’d missed them. They didn’t go to their houses; instead they drove up a long driveway to a big brick building that looked like the hospital Theresa’s father had been in when he’d had his hip surgery. They all got out of the car, Daddy, Mommy, Aunt Grace, John, and Theresa. They walked into the building and Theresa listened to her daddy ask someone behind a desk for her aunt and uncle. She didn’t understand what was going on. Theresa mother told her and John, “If you see me or Aunt Grace cry, it’s just because we’re happy to see Aunt Dorothy and Uncle
Blaize.” Theresa didn’t understand why they would cry if they were happy, but she just shook her head and said, “Ok Mommy.” They went into a big room. It had a lot of couches, a TV, a ping pong table and a pool table. There were a bunch of older people in wheelchairs and some more people sitting at some tables. Theresa didn’t know why her aunt and uncle would be there. She just stood there with her family and waited. A door opened and a lady came out. She was looking behind her sweetly saying, “Come on dear, your family is here”. Then Theresa couldn’t believe what she saw! It was her Aunt Dorothy. She looked so different. She was skinny now, real skinny, and she was having a hard time walking. She kept looking like she was going to fall. Her arms were swinging all around like she was trying to grab something, but there was nothing there, and her eyes, her eyes were like nothing Theresa had ever seen before. They were open very wide and looking all around, to Theresa her aunt looked scared. And her mouth, her mouth looked like she was trying to talk but all that seemed to come out was her tongue. She couldn’t keep her tongue in her mouth. Theresa just stared at her; she was so confused. What had happened to her aunt to make her look that way? She didn’t know, she was afraid to ask, afraid to look at her mommy, because she could
hear her crying, and she knew it wasn’t because she was happy, no matter what she’d said in the lobby. She looked at her brother. He was staring at Aunt Dorothy too. He looked scared too, she watched as Aunt Dorothy hugged her mother. She held onto her for a long time, little screeches of what sounded like she was trying to speak kept coming out of her mouth, but there were no words. She heard her mother tell her how much she loved her, how much she missed her. Then Aunt Grace got a hug, same thing. Daddy was next. Theresa watched as Aunt Dorothy stood there in her father’s arms. She listened to her father tell her how good she looked, and wondered if he saw the same things she had just seen, wondered if he realized how different she looked, wondered if maybe she was just imagining this. It couldn’t be real. It must have been another nightmare. It must have been because Theresa couldn’t understand how it could be real. Then Aunt Dorothy came scampering over to Theresa. She felt her strong arms wrap around her. She tried to hug her back. She wanted to hug her because she loved her, but Aunt Dorothy had her in a strong grip and Theresa couldn’t move her arms. She had her face smashed in her stomach and for a moment Theresa couldn’t breathe. She felt the nurse trying to pull Aunt Dorothy’s arms off her, but she wouldn’t let go. She heard the nurse saying things like,
“Honey, let go she can’t breathe,” and “Your hugging her too tight,” but Aunt Dorothy didn’t seem to hear her. She just kept squeezing Theresa. But Theresa wasn’t scared. She would have liked to be able to take a breath, but she wasn’t scared. She knew her aunt loved her. She knew she wouldn’t hurt her, but still she wished she’d let go. Then she did. She’d seen John, and went to him for his hug. Theresa watched as her aunt grabbed John and tried to kiss him. She saw her brothers’ face. She knew he was feeling the same things she had just felt. She watched as her aunt shook and rocked trying to not fall as she hugged him. And she wondered what had happened. The door that her aunt had come out of opened again; another nurse came in, and behind her was another nurse with a man in a wheel chair. He was tied into it, and twitching, like he couldn’t sit still, jerking back and forth. He looked so small. It was Uncle Blaize. When they left the hospital everyone was silent. They got in the car and started the long trip home. After a while Theresa broke the silence. “Daddy, what happened to Aunt Dorothy? What happened to Uncle Blaize?’ “Baby doll, they got real sick.” “Why Daddy?” “Sometimes people just get sick.” Theresa was quiet again.
No one else spoke. After a while of thinking Theresa asked more questions, “Daddy, can you get sick like that?” “No baby doll, Daddy can’t get sick like that.” “Can Mommy?” Theresa heard her mother start to cry again. She wished she didn’t ask the question. She didn’t want to make Mommy cry. “No, Mommy’s ok” “Daddy, can I get sick like that?” “Baby doll, God would never let you get sick like that.” That was all Theresa wanted to know. She didn’t ask any more questions, and they rode the rest of the way home in silence. Theresa was content. She knew Daddy wouldn’t lie to her. If he said she wouldn’t get sick like that, she believed him, she was eight years old. In church that Sunday, Theresa watched as the whole church family stood around the altar and prayed over her mother and her Aunt Grace. She listened to the pastor speaking in tongues. She didn’t know what he was saying, but as usual when he was done he would say in English what he’d just spoken. She listened for his words and waited to hear him tell the church that they were ok, that they weren’t going to get sick like her aunt and uncle had. But he just said the usual. He said how we needed to be
free of sin, how we needed to win souls for God, how we needed to increase the church family. Never once did he mention that they were not going to get sick. Theresa asked God why? Why didn’t pastor say that, my mommy and Aunt Grace were not gonna get sick? God you need to tell him that. God you need to tell him so he can tell my mommy. But pastor didn’t say it, so Theresa believed God didn’t tell him, and she wondered why. In Sunday school Theresa paid extra attention. She wanted to know how you learned to be like Pastor. She wanted to know how you get God to talk to you. She talked to God all the time, but she never got an answer. She needed answers now. One week they learned about Abraham, and his sons, and their sons, but it didn’t let her know how God spoke to Abraham. It just taught that he did. God speaks to Pastor and Moses too. But they didn’t tell her how to get God to speak to her. Ruth, she had faith, she believed. Noah, he had faith. Week after week Theresa learned about all the people in the bible who God spoke to and who had faith in God, and week after week she waited to hear the lesson about how to get God to speak to her, but that lesson never seemed to come. She studied all the time, she learned her bible verses by heart, and she knew all the books in the bible in order by heart. Theresa got 100’s on every test in Sunday school, she
spoke to God all the time, but he didn’t speak back. At least not the way a child would think he could. She didn’t realize God was speaking to her heart. She didn’t realize her faith was increasing daily; she didn’t realize that God was in her, with her all the time. She loved God with her whole heart. She spoke to him all the time, but didn’t realize that this was a form of worship, and praise, and prayer. Theresa was eight years old, in church five to six times a week, singing to the elderly in nursing homes, visiting sick people in hospitals, surrounded with believers, she herself at such a young age was a true believer, and she honestly loved God with her whole heart. That year on one of their trips to see Theresa’s grandparents in Connecticut, Theresa remembered waking up in the bedroom she was sleeping in and looking at the window. The blinds were down. They were the old blinds that you pulled down kind of like a movie screen. They were light beige, and the morning sun was shining through them. She stared at the window and couldn’t believe what she saw. She stayed in the bed in disbelief, wondering if she was dreaming, but somehow she knew she wasn’t. There was an image in the window, an image of the face of Jesus, like what was in her bible. Clear as day, right there
in her window, was the face of the son of God. She got up and went to the window. She pulled the blinds back and looked outside. She thought for sure that her brother must have been playing some kind of trick on her, but no one was outside. No one was there. When she stepped back to look again the image was gone. She wasn’t scared, just shocked. She’d never seen anything like that before. It was like God was shining down on her. She went down to breakfast and didn’t tell anyone about it. She didn’t think anyone would believe her, and part of her wanted to keep it to herself. She didn’t want to share it with anyone, not even Daddy. The next morning when she woke up she couldn’t open her eyes. They were pasted shut, she got out of the bed scared, she felt her way along the wall and tried to get to her parents room. She almost fell down the staircase but as she was about to fall she heard her father’s voice and felt his hands grab her. He asked her what she was doing and she said “Daddy I can’t see”. Her father looked at her eyes, took her to the bathroom, got a warm washcloth and washed her eves. She was able to open them then. They took her to the doctor and got medicine. She had conjunctivitis. It was like God showed her he was with her, and then the next day the devil closed up her eyes. One evening during a church service, she sat and
listened to a woman, who was in her thirties, stand up before the church family and give her testimony. The woman was the mother of one of Theresa’s best friends. They’d come to the church about a year earlier. Theresa sat and listened as the woman told how she was addicted to drugs, how she did unspeakable things to get those drugs. She spoke for a long time. Theresa listened to her every word. As the woman spoke about accepting Jesus into her life and how she was delivered from so many different things, something happened to Theresa that had never happened before. She heard God speak to her heart. She actually heard Him. “One day that will be you.” Theresa heard nothing else, just, “One day that will be you.” She sat in the church, while the others listened to the Pastor speak, and she answered God, “Don’t tell me that, I will never stop believing in you, I will always love you God”. Again she heard in her heart, “One day that will be you.” She argued with God, right there in the church, while service was still going on. “God please don’t tell me that” “I can’t stop believing in you, I can’t.”
One more time she heard it, “One day that will be you.” She was almost nine years old. And tears ran down her face as she sat there, no one seemed to notice, everyone was listening to the service. Theresa didn’t know how to feel, she had wanted to hear God so badly, for so long, she learned so much of the Holy Bible, His words, waiting for the day that God would speak to her , and when He finally did, he told her that she was going to backslide, then come back. That was not what she wanted to hear. But she knew she’d heard it, she’d heard it three times actually, and her heart was broken. One day while Theresa’s mother was watching television, Theresa was playing in the living room. She saw the show her mother was watching. There was a woman whose husband was very abusive. She watched as the story unfolded. She didn’t like what she saw and left the room. While she was walking through the dining room on her way to the kitchen, her vision got blurred. She saw herself as an adult as a woman like the one in the show on the television her mother was watching, and she knew then that would be a part of her life. She saw it. It’s hard to explain, but something inside of her was telling her that this was what would make her stop believing. As a young child she knew, again she didn’t
tell anyone, didn’t think anyone would believe her. She stopped asking God to talk to her after that, she never seemed to like what she heard. Chapter Four The church family grew. There were so many families there now. Theresa liked it because with each new family came new friends. The church was such a big part of her life. She studied her lessons and bible verses all the time. She got good grades on all her tests in Sunday school. Her Aunt Grace lived with the Pastor and his wife so she got to see her all the time. She had a lot of friends at the church. That made not having any at school much easier. The pastor liked Theresa a lot; she was his favorite. She got to go on walks in the woods with him. She got to go on his errands with him. She got to set up for communion before service. She got to sleep over the house to spend time with Aunt Grace. Theresa was always by pastor’s side. She got to study with Pastor all by herself because Pastor said she was one of Gods’ special children. Things look different in the eyes of a child compared to the eyes of an adult. In the life of a child, the adults in their lives are the ones who shape who they are. The adults in Theresa’s life were her father, the man in this world who she loved most, who did everything he could to make sure
she was happy; to make sure she was safe. Then there was her mother, the woman who made sure she went to school every morning, the one place she never felt safe. Her Aunt Grace, who was the one she had most fun with, the one she loved most next to her father, the pastor and the pastor’s wife. Theresa’s mother and Aunt Grace started to get sick with Huntington’s disease when she was almost nine. Theresa’s father worked six days a week and was trying to hold the family together, knowing that his wife was about to become like Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Blaize. The biggest influence on Theresa at age 8 1/2 became the Pastor. Now, in a perfect world the Pastor would have been a God fearing man who would never mislead a child, never hurt a child, and never make a child his plaything. But we don’t live in a perfect world, and Theresa was about to learn that the hard way.