It seems to me, in reading your story, that the choices made for you weren't the best, but the ones you have made on your own have strengthened you.
We all walk this earth making decisions, and the influences of other people may help or hinder us. I can see that you have grown to understand your right to make your own decisions, and they always will be the best for you, and no one can judge you on them.
Keep on truckin', girl, and I am positive you will be a winner!
I hope you get the relief I did from posting my story. It's a bit tough to do, but man, the relief was way worth it!
A bonus I'm seeing reading your story is that it's interesting reading, not just cause I know you and love you and want to see you get the benefit from letting it all out, I can't wait to hear what you say next cause it's just plain good reading!
Wow! the attention to detail in your story is amazing. It's a shame that the best stories are usually those of such heartache and sorrow. By best I don't mean I am happy you went through any of this of course but that you share it well. I'm sorry for all the pain you have suffered but trust that it will have a sweet ending. (hugs)
Thank you, ladies and Jeff. It's difficult for me to find my story interesting sometimes; it's just my life and I think others' lives are interesting! If it is inspiring then I'd love that and if someone else "out there" is living a life of total compliance and going along just to get along and they might think, "oh he!! if SHE can do it I can", whatever it might be to them. I love that we get to learn something, hopefully, everyday and each day we make the choice to keep moving in a forward direction, taking into it what we figured out from before; good or not so much.
This time in our marriage was really good and there was some sort of respite feel in TWI after the 86-87 time of clusterphuck. I described it once as everyone being too exhausted to fight anymore, even if I knew that wasn't the case; just some quiet for a little bit.
Bob and I had come back to the place of getting pregnant again, even if it took me a little longer in the trust area of seeing it through to actually holding an infant. I wanted a baby badly enough and I knew he did too. We had never any issues of "one of my own", thankfully; Samantha was his daughter, the end, so that helped me be as sure as I needed to be about us having a child; I needed us not to have even a breath of step child, half sibling, none of that, ever.
We were a family.
Just as I typed that and read it, something went on in my heart that I hadn't realized until just this moment. We were not a family in the sense that I had expected and it had nothing to do with conception of a child or a marriage license. I had an idea that my family would be boring and simply normal in the sense of a mom, a dad, a couple of children, a couple of jobs, homework, chores, bbq's and drinks with friends once in awhile.
We did all that. The exception for us was that we never really did it alone. Our family choices and decisions were shared or disclosed to other family members or in twig or, worse, made because ! of other family members or twig. Our friends were people in TWI, not necessarily those we might have chosen otherwise to share our lives. We worked in jobs that had to fit in the outline of fellowship and all TWI activities. The way we talked was routed around others in TWI.
Getting pregnant would be nothing less, I should have seen that one coming. The first problem was it now, when we started on a more serious journey it was another 2-3 years later and no baby in our arms.
We spent some time discussing Adoption and did a little bit of research therein, but settled on not going that route given the waiting time period of up to 8 years for a healthy white newborn. (this time period would prove to be silly to consider too long) Why not apply for a less easily placed child, you ask? Yeah, I did too. Because of the problems that would come with that child that might be driven by devil spirits. Were we prepared to accept a child that had been severely abused in every way possible, love him or her as our own and never give up no matter what? I thought I was but it was made clear to me that the ministry wasn't and I did give much thought to what I was now seeing happen to other children with problems or those with any defiance issues, in TWI. The first time I participated in a metting where it was agreed that the teenage daughter of another twig coordinator had to be put out of her house because she refused to obey I dropped the issue.
There was a friend who knew of a pregnant teenager who did not want to keep her child at it's birth and we considered an open adoption but I didn't feel the birth mother should have to accept our sometimes gypsy lifestyle for her baby and I just couldn't ask her. I did help her go through other portfolio's of couples wanting to adopt her baby and she settled on a lovely family and as of 8 years ago when I talked to them, it had always gone very well for everyone, most importantly the child.
We sold my car to finance four cycles of Invitro Fertilization, we qualified for shots that Bob gave me, we tried me taking Clomid pill, which we knew could produce multiple births even though tests showed I didn't ovulate every month and if I did, the egg was "minimally viable".
We considered donated eggs, which always made me giggle for some reason. We had gone to medical offices where Bob had to go into a little room with adult magazine and/or videos to deposit sperm for testing, we had allowed and paid unbelievably amounts of money to have our sperm and egg fertilized in a dish by someone in scrubs and then implanted into my uterus, I had freaky and debilitating side effects from the shots and Clomid and using someone else's egg was weird??
We did get pregnant again the old fashioned way, but I lost that baby at week 12. This was when the news on tv became no longer allowed in our house. Everytime they reported on a newborn discovered in a dumpster or they told the story of some sonuvabitch abusing a child, I would be beyond upset and it effected my mental health in ways there was no balm for, I don't care how many people "gave me the word" or told me to keep believing that there was a baby for us, if I was just patient.
Pregnant women pizzed me off, seeing newborn babies sent me to bed for the rest of the day.
I think I was pregnant at least two more times and miscarried, but since my menstrual cycle was a maze of rollercoasters, we were never exactly sure, as by then my periods were more of a hemorrage alot of the time. We tried a birth control pill for 12 cycles to regulate me, then I'd miss one or two on purpose here and there in hopes of that missed pill being the result of a pregnancy. A ton of babies are birth control babies, right? We did ovulation kits purchased from Walmart, which are really wonderful, by the way, if you need that kind of thing. Using that and basal temperature monitoring, sometimes I'd call the man from the job site and hollar "I'm ovulating!" and he'd cutass home and we'd hurry up and try to make a baby. I'd prop alot of pillows under myself after making love and lie there for as long as possible to "hold those boys in" we called it.
Sheesh!
Somewhere in this mess we agreed to call our Limb Coordinator every time we were about to make love so he and those he called on the "list" could be praying for us, speaking in tongues for conception, then we'd call him again after. Yeah, I know! But we wanted a baby that badly and it became somehow funny most of the time. But for the most part all of this clinical process in our marriage and intimacy took a profound toll, communication breakdowns were constant and although the timing couldn't possibly be any worse, someone in a leadership role suggested we consider entering the Way Corps Program.
Then I got bit by a brown reculse spider at the Rock Of Ages and nearly lost my leg.
Me, yeah right, that's a dumb idea if ever there was one. The point was and remains that dumb or brilliant wasn't the point; two other family members had entered the program and our application and acceptance and entrance was the next step in this, of course we'd do that.
No baby, again.
There were meetings about my "obsession with having another child" and what was I going to do about getting past that and back on the tracks of understanding that sometimes this was the way God works, obviously I wasn't being healed from my reproductive problems, my believing was as weak as it could get in this area.
Bob was ok if I wanted to give up, he was diggin' fatherhood of Samantha and our lives on the outside were lovely. I realized, suddenly, that I didn't want him to be ok with giving up, I wanted him to want this more than we'd ever wanted anything in our lives together.
This was also a time when we had a fellah in our twig that seemed, to me, like he was ripping people off. I didn't have a solid reason, just my instinct. It bugged me enough to screw up my courage and talk about it. "This guy is up to no good, I know it and I want him away from our house, our child".
Of course this was so much not the first time there were people in our home because we had fellowship in it. The homeless population where we were then living was much less, but we brought strangers home nonetheless and often they landed on our couch for a night or 17. I paid extra attention to the teachings about the wife/mother being the one in the home and family to notice things that seemed amiss and alert her head; my husband and it was his responsibility to believe me cuz that's the way God set it up dontcha know. I could not get this one guy out of my mind, he was up to something and I knew it, period.
Sadly I was stifled (wow, weird flashback of Archie and Edith right there).
So I began my own personal investigating, uncovering a love and talent I didn't know I had of finding information.
My husband would leave for work, Samantha would leave for school, I'd do whatever chores I needed to get done and then settle in to find out what the he!! it was that was bugging me so badly about this man and before long it was another person and then another in someone else's twig.
In a few days I learned that the one that first strirred something in my belly had been doing construction scams all over town and in my search for info., I learned I was certainly not the only one looking; some were actually looking for him to get their money back and most were not happy.
One of the people I suspected of innappropriate behavior with children and what I uncovered didn't even begin to break the surface of what he'd been doing.
I developed a sort of system as a mother. I think many of us did, and perhaps some dad's too. My sole goal was to protect her no matter how creative I had to be to get it done. If it was insisted upon that someone I wasn't sure of were to stay in our home, I stayed awake all night, things like that; if I had to have stranger in my home, I was going to know exactly where they were at all times in relation to my child.
If things were going down in TWI in our area and I knew I would going to have to be there for a meeting to "discuss this matter", I tried to field as much as possible ahead of time and arrange for her to stay with someone not involved or convince those who needed convinging that I could catch up after if someone took good enough notes.
What I needed as much as her not having to stay with "believers" was for her to not be exposed to anything, as much as was in my power to do so. It must have worked, 'cuz for years after we left, I'd be telling her something about her dad that involved TWI and she'd have no memory of the event, the meeting, the person or the outcome.
The toughest part, then and still, was that it really didn't matter if I knew something about someone that should raise alert or concern; nothing was going to be done and wasn't. We were to love the unloveable, heal the unhealable, feed the flock, minister to the needs of the needy, the end and if I wanted to get the benefits, I'd damn well better stop this nonsense of not trusting people.
To keep me busy, it was determined that it was time to take the Advanced Class in preparation for going Way Corps and I had enough to do in study for that. I was to use my time more wisely, quit stressing about a baby, attend to my marriage and child and be the best helpmate I could possibly be.
Much like my wedding, I spent alot of the Advanced Class in tears. I'm sure my shrink would have his thoughts on this reality. The only real thing I took from that experience in Rome City, Indiana was from some guy who found me one morning sitting on a bench, crying.
He sat down on the bench, never said a single word, took my hand gently and just sat there. He didn't say 'lets pray, lets speak in tongues, what the freak is the matter with you' nothing, not a single word and I am yet so very thankful for that; he just sat there holding my hand. Then after some time, he rose and left. I wondered later if he was mute like me or why he'd not spoken, like me.
A few days later, I was wandering around the grounds and settled on the grass to watch a basketball game going on. Pretty soon, I felt a hand on mine again and it was him. Again, not a word, just silence, his hand gently on mine, then gone.
A third time, I was back on my bench and then he showed up. My trust issues were not yet what they are now, so I didn't freak out, but I surely was curious. I finally spoke, sharing my confusion on why he kept showing up to comfort me and by the way who the he!! are you.
He grinned a little and said "My name is L*oyd Bi*shop, I'm here for this class too, and I need you to know that I understand". I fell into his arms and sobbed, my body wracking, while he but held me and said nothing further. Then he left and I never saw him again.
I've always wondered why I never thought to look for a name tag or search the sea of faces in the classes or events; I guess it didn't matter. I do know that I messed up his white shirt badly in my crying and I've never forgotten that too.
Maybe it just reminds me that God puts me where I need to be and/or others in my life where they need to be and it's as simple as that.
During another of my wanderings during that class time, I opened a door that I obviously had no business opening to overhear the campus coordinator and another arranging the next woman for our esteemed leader.
Later I found, on my bed, a note from said leader about how thankful he was that I understood the lockbox principle.
It was 1993, I already knew I was in some deep shi+ but this clarified to me that none of our boots were high enough. I returned home, an Advanced Class grad and said nothing.
"If it's there, I gotta find it" became my mantra, but the bigger issue was that even if I did find it, I was not going to do anything with it and I never could reconcile the two facts.
For me to take on a Nancy Drew canter could only get me in even more deep shi+ and certainly wasn't going to afford me the comfort of protecting Samantha or keeping life palatable for my husband.
I wonder, now, why it was so easy to come up with a reason not to do something.
1994 was such a tenuious, even pernicious time in The Way Ministry; such a turning point in terms of so many things being on the cusp of discovery, Martindale and his loyal crew had several bugs up their azzes about homosexuality and "clean 'em out, expose 'em for the vile they are". My brother is gay, so I knew that, given the pulse of the "purge" our relationship as siblings was fixin' to be compromised. It was a matter of time, and the time did arrive in my face.
I was given a choice of removing him from my life or risk losing so much more. I knew that my brother was aware of TWI's feelings on his life's choices and we'd always been able to find ways to stay in touch and he knew that I wasn't buying it but rather going along to save myself and my family; we didn't discuss it, it was just known.
I was told I had to call him and there was to be someone there to witness my cutting my brother out of my life "in case you try to pull a fast one". I was told to get this poison, this devil spirit, this chronic problem and clog to my goodness from God out of our lives; how could I possibly continue to think it was ok to expose my child to my brother, even if only on the phone.
Now, my brother and I had always been very close and we'd shared a lifetime of each others' worlds. He picked up on my little problem instantly and we played the game.
I said I had to no longer have him in our lives, surely he understood why and I threw in some ugly stuff about how the devil spirits he was full of were poisoning my family. He said that he understood what I was doing. Note: he didn't say he understood what I was saying; that was the key for me to know that he got it. We decided that if we needed to communicate in so far as a family emergency, he would do so through our mother who would then call the head of my home who would then inform me if he so found it valid.
We then stayed in touch via payphones from then on, pre-arranged ahead of time.
What a sorry state to have to be in, and I remain thankful for my brother and all of my family for being patient while I lost my head and did stupid stuff in the name of not making waves.
Living like this took it's toll on my body and mental health as I lost an unhealthy amount of weight, was constantly looking over my shoulder to determine whom might be making sure I was behaving myself. Sounds paranoid, I understand, and was, but they told me to be sure I understood I would be constantly held accountable and observed; it was all I had.
There was also the issue of trying to have the baby I wanted so badly and couldn't seem to conceive, taking the responsibility on myself, solely. Bob didn't know how to help me, communication ground to a silent and painful halt and we went through daily motions that might have resembled a healthy family serving God and responsible for others. By this time we are having to see doctors secretly, since not being pregnant now after almost 10 years, we must be doing something wrong, as in not believing God for a baby. Also because of my drastic weight loss and stress, my menstrual cycles were even more goofed up and I lost track of ovulation; the one control I had over any of this process.
We ended up seperate again, which was the harshest of insults, even though it was my idea, given our situation of lack of control over everything in our lives, our obvious lack of connection as a married couple, and our glaring lack of believing to get our poop in any group.
The way it was explained to me was that I had "walked out from under my umbrella of coverage and protection" by this action. What I wanted, again, was to be left alone to consider and think and actually understand where I fit in my marriage, in my environment, certainly in this ministry that I couldn't understand no matter how I dressed it up.
I was no longer allowed to assist my husband with a twig and in fact he was no longer allowed to be a twig coordinator, either, since it was so clear that he couldn't even keep him own wife under submission.
I took a little apartment close to where my husband was living and we decided, eventually to date occasionally, to back way the he!! up and talk about things, about us, about having a baby, about those vows we'd really meant 10 years prior.
Now, however, we were away from the glaring eyes of leadership, family, doctors and having given up on the dream of getting pregnant if this was what it was going to cost.
We got pregnant.
New problems. I was 34 years old with a negative Rh factor in my blood, weighed about 98 pounds and our marriage was clearly not at a place to have this child. My new mission was to pull it all together no matter what it took, the end of discussion.
During another of my wanderings during that class time, I opened a door that I obviously had no business opening to overhear the campus coordinator and another arranging the next woman for our esteemed leader.
Later I found, on my bed, a note from said leader about how thankful he was that I understood the lockbox principle.
It's been asked of me, twice, of whom I am speaking here in these statements.
The conversation I overheard was between W*y*ne C*app and another who's name I have never known nor face I recognized discussing who was to be Craig Martindales next female companion; not an uncommon practice during Mr. Martindale's tenure as President of The Way International.
The note given me the next day was from Martindale, written on the back of an envelope.
I understood alright and I followed his suggestion, an action I regret.
I believed that, too but knew that if I broke it and spilled it's contents the cost would simply be too high. Every cost that I could see would be too high in my family.
Today I will never live like that again. Today I talk too much, I go into meetings and insist on being heard, I confront and welcome same. But getting here was a rocky road and the loss was still great.
We moved again into a shared house and continued to work on our marriage and family and on July 7, 1995 I gave birth in our home to our second daughter, Kelly Rene' North. She was born 7/7 and she weighed 7/7 so one might imagine what was done with that......
We had no way of knowing in 2 years Bob North would be dead.
Kelly was a planned home birth with daddy, the midwife, big sister and my mother in attendance. Healthy pregnancy and amazing delivery of our beautiful child. She was born with part of her intestines outside of her body, so that required some medical intervention and then teaching us how to properly care for her. And she was a colic baby so she screamed for about 3 months.
Straight.
All the time.
was the sleep deprived, exhausted look on at least my face all the time.
But else a sweet good baby and we found ways to be creative in sleep and adjusting to a new baby in the house while also learning to live with a teenager. Yikes.
We were traveling 4 hours to Limb functions every 2-3 weekends and it was taking a toll on our little family with a newborn baby, so we moved to Little Rock, easing life quite a bit and at this point our marriage was at a pretty good place, our teenager was doing ok and our new baby was an 8 month old. I was able to stay home with her, we were not running a fellowship in our home for the first time in so long; it was such a relief to just go to one, come home and keep moving along.
Bob's brother in law was offered a job as Superintendent of a job in Orlando, Florida building a mall and he wanted to hire Bob as his assistant. This was the first and I think only time I didn't automatically ask 'when do we have to be there, I'll start packing' and hit the speed dial for U-Haul.
Something bad was wrong with this picture; really bad and while I couldn't come up with exactly what, it was very clear to me that our moving this time was wrong.
I was over ruled, he moved on ahead of us while I started packing up our house for the move, he found a house for us to rent outside Orlando and started a very high stress, long hours job. A month later he flew home for a fast weekend, we were ready and we left, me all the while carrying this "something's wrong here" in my heart.
A wife is to follow her husband, right? Even if the idea is about as wrong as it could ever be, she's to stand mute and hopefully nod in all the right places. At least in TWI's framework of us that was truth. I did express repeatedly "this is so not good" but I was instructed to believe God, trust my man and load up my babies. He grew increasingly irritated with my concerns and wished I'd just back him up and be happy.
I backed him up.
We arrived at our new home outside Orlando on May 5, 1997 and he died on June 8, 1997.
All I can say is thanks for sharing.. I am sorry for your loss.
I really enjoyed the story and I knew the ending from your previous posts
but my heart is still sad. I hope in some way by sharing all that you have
here at the cafe it will some how help you grow or whatever you need..
You put a lot of heart and emotion here and only you know why, I just want
you to be better from it...
copenhagen
Hi Copenhagen, thank you and ya know, I AM better from all of it. I hope that in all things in my world, I take what I need from whatever it is and apply it how it fits into the new situation. Experiences and 'oh shi+' that might apply somewhere.
The girls and I developed a new normal that has worked really well for us and we've grown and continued on into good things. Their father is greatly missed and his memory is sweet in our lives; we were very fortunate to have had him as husband and father.
I have to credit Jeff (our own JeffSjo) here, in that his comfort and love gives me confidence to know I'm supported and understood, no matter what. I'm really not sure I could have told what I have so far without his unconditional care.
The story has not ended here and I hope you'll continue to read, copenhagen.
It felt like the time span between my husband collapsing on our bed and the hours after he was pronounced dead, all of the most confusing, challenging things I'd ever heard any of them say had been thrown at me.
Just believe God for him to survive this
You can raise him from the dead. DO IT!
Why are you not getting revelation, or is it that you are not listening, or it is that you are not believing.
What do you want, your husband is not able to make the decisions, you have to for him.
What is his weakness, why did this happen, where did you and he fail in your marriage that this should happen.
You have to get in there and make them take care of him, this is a son of God we're talking about here and you are his wife!
My mom brain continued to move as fast as my wife brain but neither as fast as my fear and confusion. People from Headquarters were calling since his two of my in-laws lived there with the Wiewille's;one with Mrs. W and one with Don and Wanda. I had no answers to the miriad of questions coming from all directions. I could see our babies, I could hear someone screaming "raise him from the dead" at me, I could hear hospital sounds.
I looked at my 23 month old baby girl sitting in this busy-ness, coloring. I looked at my 15 year old baby girl looking back at me, imploring me to fix her daddy.
Our Limb Coordinator, Bob Moynihan, had been on vacation fishing somewhere I think and when he showed up, I was somehow relieved to see him coming across the parking lot. I met him half way and he said only 8 words to me. "There is a difference between desperation and revelation". Well, ok, but I was desperate, so somebody better come up with some mighty fine revelation. This shi+ messes with people's minds.
Martindale was doing a teaching on stage and was given a note and sent word that he was believing with us. Somehow that wasn't as comforting as I'm sure it was supposed to be.
The one call I understood was Don Wierwille, as he said to me, standing there in the emergency waiting room "honey, what do you want to do?" Somehow it provided me immunity from making alot of immediate decisions about my husband, the father of my children! I answered "I want it to be over" and he said "then it is".
As simple as that, the end.
What the HE!! did that mean?
Where the fu(k was God, really. Was he in my heart, was he in Bob's body while they shocked his heart, shoved tubes down his throat and injected him with heart attack stopping drugs?
Where was God when I was performing CPR on the man I'd promised to love, cherish and live a life with? Where the he!! was God when, just moments before, my husband stood at the end of our bed in front of me and said "my chest is caving in, pray for me right now". Five minutes before that, he had been lying down on our couch, resting, we were going to go shopping for a toddler bed after lunch.
I prayed, but didn't get very many words out of my mouth before life shifted.
Where was God when the doctor did his "we've done all we can do and I'm sorry but.." speech in the middle of the waiting room with total strangers staring at us.
Was God in our lives or had we been abandoned and left to the foolishness of men who knew nothing of him.
I had been asking God for about 4 years to 'get us out of here'. Was this the answer and if so, I wasn't interested, thank you very much.
I would have given 15 years of faithful prayer back if I could have told my babies 'Daddy is sick but he's going to be just fine'
I would find out where God was and I was to find out within hours where the men and women who bragged about speaking for Him were. Yes there is a big difference between desperation and revelation and i was about to see it live and in color.
I was allowed in to the trauma area where my dead husband lay, but suddenly realized while standing there that my fellowship coordinator was standing there too. He, at least, was gracious enough to give me a few minutes alone, but still stood "just outside that door right there".
Kinda makes me giggle now, but sure wasn't funny for a very long time.
I looked into the now quiet face of the man I'd vowed to live life with, raise children with, grow old with. The man I'd struggled with through 15 years of life, grown up with, laughed and cried with. The man I'd seen heal others' lives with his calm words of compassion and gentleness. The man who only 2 years before had been wracked with sobs of joy at holding his newborn baby.
He was gone.
I'd never been of the mind of "I could never live with out him, I'd just die if he did" probably cuz that's a silly thing to wish on our children, but i did entertain the thought for a short time; I didn't want to do this without him, we'd finally gotten to a better place in this life, he had finally been what I thought was truly happy in his work, he had begun to see some end to some of our daily struggles and felt like he was taking care of his family.
I removed the sheet covering they'd put on him and touched his entire body, searching for some way to come up with a goodbye to this fascinating, interesting, loving and good man. What felt more right was that he looked so quiet, so asleep and he'd wake up and be irritated that I was staring at him.
Where was his sock ! ? He only had one sock on and for some reason that pisxed me off. These are the things that come and go in our minds in crisis.
A sock.
Somehow my oldest and I were in a little room with Bob Moynihan and our fellowship coordinator and we were discussing important things, I assume. The most important, to me, was when Samantha said "can we go home now?" meaning back to Little Rock where we'd just lived a short 6 or so weeks earlier, where her friends were, where alot of her dad's family was. We were strangers her and dealing with this immense loss with them. Yes we could go home now.
Someone gave us a ride back to our house where I found, to my further exhaustion and ire, people. Alot of people. Someone had arranged for people to come to our home before we got there and clean up, finish the lunch I had been fixing a few short hours ago and prepare it on my dining room table. Remembering this now, I have no idea who these people were and the instructions to eat something, coupled with a sea of emotions and questions, only served to further make me mad.
A phone in our house kept ringing but others answered it and responded to whomever was calling. My children were being seen to by other strangers. Someone began to do dishes in my kitchen sink, I heard a vacuum. Someone handed me a pill and a glass of wine. I flushed the pill in the toilet on my way into our bedroom, thinking a glass of wine in the last place I'd shared with my husband was a good idea. I wanted to be alone and think.
I didn't get further than the doorway into our bedroom when I realized that these strangers had cleaned it. This somehow brought the grief of what had just gone down in our worlds to the front of my life sooner than I was ready to see it. The room looked as if nothing had happened in there. I wanted to see the bed askew where the paramedics had shoved it to make more room, I wanted to clean up the 'mess' from my CPR and his body's reaction to it. I wanted to put the laundry away that I had been working on when he collapsed. I longed for something normal.
I'm sitting here in tears thinking about how hard it all must have been for you. I remember when my Nathan dies so vividly as I read your story all I can say is I'm sorry you ever had to go through all of that. ((((HUGS)))))
I didn't want to call my parents. Yet I was already offended that in the emergency room and since getting home, I'd spoken with every one of my inlaws; but of course they needed to know that their son/brother had just died so unexpectedly, so suddenly.
My parents and brothers were never really a part of our family, sadly, and this was no different. unbelievers outside of the household, outside of the family of God and one of them gay. Uhhuh, not a part of the general consideration, sadly.
I understood later I didn't want to talk to my parents because I couldn't stand any more "what do you want me to do?" And where my parents were concerned, I'm afraid the answer might have been 'get me the .... outa here'.
I called my big brother, Steve. He and I had never been emotional together, sharing of anything that might require discussion beyond benign things just wasn't his gig. He rose to the occasion for which I needed him and was my spokesperson until the middle of the night, when I was finally ready to talk to our other two brothers. My parents had talked to him and were on their way the next day and I should have been looking forward to their comfort, their console, their presence. Instead I found myself dreading what was likely going to happen with them and the TWI folks. For the most part, we had never put our two families together, save for our wedding, I think, and now I had to deal with that alone.
There was the TWI family/ household, my husband's family within the household who had just been dealt such a tremendous tragic loss and there was my family; three very different dynamics in my world.
People were everywhere, where did all those people come from, people I'd recently only met at a Fathers Day Limb picnic and never really spoken to, people who only heard of us as 'the new family from Arkansas'. They were in my house, caring for my children, fixing our meals, doing our laundry, staring at me. When I'd go into the bathroom, someone would wait outside the door. When I took my children for a walk, someone kept a fair distance, but followed behind. When I went to the bank to get money out before they learned of his death and froze that bad boy, someone had to come with me.
Exhausting.
The funeral home people wanted answers from me; that hadn't occured to me until they called with the question "Mrs North, what are your wishes regarding your husbands remains?"
Remains? My husband had been reduced to "remains".
The Christmas before, there had been family discussion about cremation and he had briefly said he liked that idea. Someone else said that because he was only 35 and died so suddenly, it was legally required that an autopsy be perfomed. No, I don't care what anything legal says, there will be no autopsy, oh he!! no. They told me they didn't have to have my permission, legally, but they'd prefer I sign the permission sheet to allow them to examine my husband pathilogically. Because it's what I did, I called Moynihan and he said I had to comply, I had to follow the laws of the land, indeed I had no choice.
My parents arrived shortly after Bob's family but I couldn't get to them. We had a little extra sitting space where our office was and my parents sat on the couch in there with me finding my way to them eventually but only to be called away to greet someone, take another call, make another decision. My parents were completely ignored, so uncomfortable, felt most unwelcome. I looked again and they were gone, assumingly to their hotel. Other family members had been offered and arranged escorts, housing and other needs, but not my parents; they were alienated, set apart, not "household".
What was going to happen when my gay brother showed up in a couple of days for the memorial service.
The Way International's care of family at it's absolute worst.
I'm sitting here in tears thinking about how hard it all must have been for you. I remember when my Nathan dies so vividly as I read your story all I can say is I'm sorry you ever had to go through all of that. ((((HUGS)))))
Thank you grand-daughter, I was thinking of your Nathan, as well, the other day in terms of how grief was stolen from us. Too many parents like yourself, spouses such as myself, children and other loved ones never being allowed to just feel their grief and make decisions according to their need. Such a sad and tragic shame.
Waysider, no kidding eh? All under the pretense of loving people through their loss and mourning process? I think not so much.
Decisions at the time of loss are everywhere and since I was the wife, of course I had to make the really tough ones like "We are going to cremate your husband's remains at 1:00 pm tomorrow afternoon, would you like to attend?"
Attend WHAT?
The autopsy had been performed and the cause of death determined to be Atherosclerosis, he had 90% blockage in the majority of his heart, 100 % in some vessels, not compatible with life.
No, I didn't not want to attend my husband's cremation, even though it was explained to me that I didn't have to necessarily stay and watch the process, but they like someone to view the remains a final time and nod through a glass partition that in affirmation that yes that is the right person. The choice to stay until the ending was an option.
Sometimes I read medical books for fun, I knew exactly what was fixin' to happen and no, I did not want to sit with a cup of coffee and watch. But my dad offered to go, which I thought was a great idea so I handed him the keys to our car and took a really long, thoughtful walk, understanding what he was seeing, knowing he'd give me the full report and understanding that this was, somehow, the most final of it all, I had no choice but to accept this loss now.
So vivid in my memory is one of the strangers that kept hanging out at my house pulling up beside me during this walk. Now what, was all I could think, until they told me. My dad had called my house. The car, our car, the only car we had, was broken down and what did I want to do. I wanted to suggest that since they'd been making all of my other decisions for me, they could figure it out, but this was something I could have control over, maybe. Here was a thought; 'go pick up my father and call a tow service to get my car home too, how 'bout it?'.
I have no memory of how my dad did get back to my house, but he did so without my car as it was deemed "needs engine replacement, will not operate".
Weird. The man who had just been cremated did all of his own mechanic work and his vehicles always ran very well. This inconvenience only left me more at the whim and mercy of the TWI staring people.
Somewhere in this mess, we met in the Moynihan's living room to talk about a memorial service; Bob's family that had arrived and me. My parents, of course, were not invited and sadly I did not insist they be included. In fact I don't even know where my parents were. In this little meeting, we told Bob stories, we discussed how the service would work, who would do what. By 'we' I mean Moynihan and family, not myself. I had never wanted to get out of a room so badly or swiftly.
Where were our children in all of this? It felt like I had not held my babies or talked to them in days.
I hate wearing dresses, always have and one way to get to spend time with my mom was to ask her to shop for dresses for myself and the girls for the memorial service. Just me, Samantha and my mom, no other family, no handlers, no followers. My dad had agreed to stay with Kelly. But we had to be creative, I was very good at this shi+ with TWI. It got us about 2 hours the afternoon before the service to just be quiet together, for her to hold my hand and us to relax a little. I had always wondered what people do with themselves when someone that close dies; just a curiosity of mine that I no longer had questions about, sadly.
I still hate that we had to sneak away, however and not have their support and comfort and understanding that my mom had just lost her son in law, a man she loved and she was hurting too. I recall no one asking her how she was, did she need something, expressing condolences to her.
When we got home, all he!! had already begun, it just wasn't obviouse yet, not too clear, just something in the air. I asked my dad where all the people were and he said "gone" to which I, of course said "where, what do you mean gone?" and of course his response was "just gone, Shellon".
He was piszed off about something and I had no more energy to get into it, especially with my mom and children right there. Ok, gone, good.
It occurs to me now that so much of this week, I had no idea where Samantha was. If you know me, you know that's just not an option, not knowing where one of my children is; it's simply not. But now I couldn't tell you. I have no memory of our usual goodnight routine, I don't recall getting after her once about her teeth numbing music or where the phone was and who was on the other end, our normal stuff.
That makes me sad that I lost touch and was so lost that I didn't know where my child was. Kelly was 23 months old so she was on my hip or hanging with grandpa or contently off to the side coloring or singing or watching video's. I can still recite the entire 30 minutes of SPOT from the video she watched over and over and .......
But Samantha......no. Fifteen years old and her father, her best friend, had just died and her mama didn't even know......
Dammit, therapy is brutal.
After dinner,Bob Moynihan showed up, announced, uninvited, again. My dad had been drinking shots of Black Velvet in memory of his son in law.
The two together was a sure bad mixture and I knew it, but there was no where to hide and I knew that too. Was I hoping to keep these two men apart? Maybe, but here it was and it was ugly right from the start.
I introduced Mr. Moynihan to Mr. and Mrs. Fockler; my parents Dale and Phyllis. "hello, nice to meet you, bless you, we sure enjoy your daughter around here, yes thank you we think she's pretty wonderful too"
Whew, not so bad.
My dad was the first to speak. He announced to Moynihan that he expected to be able to speak at Bob's service tomorrow. Moynihan said that was not possible, he has a ministry service that was protocol and there was to be no other additions.
Dale Fockler repeated himself, Bob Moynihan repeated himself and on it went, louder and louder and moved into the middle of my kitchen.
I'm still not sure which one, I think it was my dad, who said "We'll ask Shellon". It had to be my dad, Moynihan would never ask me if I wanted to breath if he could help it.
There was no time for escape, the distance from my kitchen to my living room was but a few short feet and two very irate faces were looking to me to give the right answer. I looked at the Limb Coordinator or Florida and I ditched my own father. I replied "I do not know what the procedure is, Dad, but Rev. Moynihan has to do it a certain way".
I had just stolen my dad's one opportunity to be a part of his son in law's funeral, I had just turned my back on my family again for a religious organization that had turned it's back on me over and over again. I had just insulted my mother yet again, I had let my children down some more.
Standing there in front of my parents, the people who raised me to be honest and straight up, to never back down from anything, to hold to what I believed no matter who stood with me, the people who had raised me. And I betrayed them.
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Shellon
I sorta hate to have this end on some morose sad place. This last week, for me, has been one of great loss and great understanding and great reckoning; none of it fun, none of it holding the humor th
Shellon
And today I'm struck more than in a very long time with how very alone it is to parent after a spouse has died. I have decisions to make regarding my child, very important ones that will shape her fu
Shellon
It's with a strange mixture of grief and relief that I can tell any of my story with a sense of freedom and with a hope of expression that makes some sense, maybe for the first time in 11 years. I do
Priscilla
Shellon,
It seems to me, in reading your story, that the choices made for you weren't the best, but the ones you have made on your own have strengthened you.
We all walk this earth making decisions, and the influences of other people may help or hinder us. I can see that you have grown to understand your right to make your own decisions, and they always will be the best for you, and no one can judge you on them.
Keep on truckin', girl, and I am positive you will be a winner!
You inspire me.
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bowtwi
I hope you get the relief I did from posting my story. It's a bit tough to do, but man, the relief was way worth it!
A bonus I'm seeing reading your story is that it's interesting reading, not just cause I know you and love you and want to see you get the benefit from letting it all out, I can't wait to hear what you say next cause it's just plain good reading!
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grand-daughter
Wow! the attention to detail in your story is amazing. It's a shame that the best stories are usually those of such heartache and sorrow. By best I don't mean I am happy you went through any of this of course but that you share it well. I'm sorry for all the pain you have suffered but trust that it will have a sweet ending. (hugs)
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Shellon
Thank you, ladies and Jeff. It's difficult for me to find my story interesting sometimes; it's just my life and I think others' lives are interesting!
If it is inspiring then I'd love that and if someone else "out there" is living a life of total compliance and going along just to get along and they might think, "oh he!! if SHE can do it I can", whatever it might be to them. I love that we get to learn something, hopefully, everyday and each day we make the choice to keep moving in a forward direction, taking into it what we figured out from before; good or not so much.
This time in our marriage was really good and there was some sort of respite feel in TWI after the 86-87 time of clusterphuck. I described it once as everyone being too exhausted to fight anymore, even if I knew that wasn't the case; just some quiet for a little bit.
Bob and I had come back to the place of getting pregnant again, even if it took me a little longer in the trust area of seeing it through to actually holding an infant. I wanted a baby badly enough and I knew he did too. We had never any issues of "one of my own", thankfully; Samantha was his daughter, the end, so that helped me be as sure as I needed to be about us having a child; I needed us not to have even a breath of step child, half sibling, none of that, ever.
We were a family.
Just as I typed that and read it, something went on in my heart that I hadn't realized until just this moment. We were not a family in the sense that I had expected and it had nothing to do with conception of a child or a marriage license. I had an idea that my family would be boring and simply normal in the sense of a mom, a dad, a couple of children, a couple of jobs, homework, chores, bbq's and drinks with friends once in awhile.
We did all that. The exception for us was that we never really did it alone. Our family choices and decisions were shared or disclosed to other family members or in twig or, worse, made because ! of other family members or twig. Our friends were people in TWI, not necessarily those we might have chosen otherwise to share our lives. We worked in jobs that had to fit in the outline of fellowship and all TWI activities. The way we talked was routed around others in TWI.
Getting pregnant would be nothing less, I should have seen that one coming. The first problem was it now, when we started on a more serious journey it was another 2-3 years later and no baby in our arms.
We spent some time discussing Adoption and did a little bit of research therein, but settled on not going that route given the waiting time period of up to 8 years for a healthy white newborn. (this time period would prove to be silly to consider too long) Why not apply for a less easily placed child, you ask? Yeah, I did too. Because of the problems that would come with that child that might be driven by devil spirits. Were we prepared to accept a child that had been severely abused in every way possible, love him or her as our own and never give up no matter what? I thought I was but it was made clear to me that the ministry wasn't and I did give much thought to what I was now seeing happen to other children with problems or those with any defiance issues, in TWI. The first time I participated in a metting where it was agreed that the teenage daughter of another twig coordinator had to be put out of her house because she refused to obey I dropped the issue.
There was a friend who knew of a pregnant teenager who did not want to keep her child at it's birth and we considered an open adoption but I didn't feel the birth mother should have to accept our sometimes gypsy lifestyle for her baby and I just couldn't ask her. I did help her go through other portfolio's of couples wanting to adopt her baby and she settled on a lovely family and as of 8 years ago when I talked to them, it had always gone very well for everyone, most importantly the child.
We sold my car to finance four cycles of Invitro Fertilization, we qualified for shots that Bob gave me, we tried me taking Clomid pill, which we knew could produce multiple births even though tests showed I didn't ovulate every month and if I did, the egg was "minimally viable".
We considered donated eggs, which always made me giggle for some reason. We had gone to medical offices where Bob had to go into a little room with adult magazine and/or videos to deposit sperm for testing, we had allowed and paid unbelievably amounts of money to have our sperm and egg fertilized in a dish by someone in scrubs and then implanted into my uterus, I had freaky and debilitating side effects from the shots and Clomid and using someone else's egg was weird??
We did get pregnant again the old fashioned way, but I lost that baby at week 12. This was when the news on tv became no longer allowed in our house. Everytime they reported on a newborn discovered in a dumpster or they told the story of some sonuvabitch abusing a child, I would be beyond upset and it effected my mental health in ways there was no balm for, I don't care how many people "gave me the word" or told me to keep believing that there was a baby for us, if I was just patient.
Pregnant women pizzed me off, seeing newborn babies sent me to bed for the rest of the day.
I think I was pregnant at least two more times and miscarried, but since my menstrual cycle was a maze of rollercoasters, we were never exactly sure, as by then my periods were more of a hemorrage alot of the time. We tried a birth control pill for 12 cycles to regulate me, then I'd miss one or two on purpose here and there in hopes of that missed pill being the result of a pregnancy. A ton of babies are birth control babies, right? We did ovulation kits purchased from Walmart, which are really wonderful, by the way, if you need that kind of thing. Using that and basal temperature monitoring, sometimes I'd call the man from the job site and hollar "I'm ovulating!" and he'd cutass home and we'd hurry up and try to make a baby. I'd prop alot of pillows under myself after making love and lie there for as long as possible to "hold those boys in" we called it.
Sheesh!
Somewhere in this mess we agreed to call our Limb Coordinator every time we were about to make love so he and those he called on the "list" could be praying for us, speaking in tongues for conception, then we'd call him again after. Yeah, I know! But we wanted a baby that badly and it became somehow funny most of the time. But for the most part all of this clinical process in our marriage and intimacy took a profound toll, communication breakdowns were constant and although the timing couldn't possibly be any worse, someone in a leadership role suggested we consider entering the Way Corps Program.
Then I got bit by a brown reculse spider at the Rock Of Ages and nearly lost my leg.
http://www.greasespo...came-to-dinner/
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Shellon
The Way Corps !
Me, yeah right, that's a dumb idea if ever there was one. The point was and remains that dumb or brilliant wasn't the point; two other family members had entered the program and our application and acceptance and entrance was the next step in this, of course we'd do that.
No baby, again.
There were meetings about my "obsession with having another child" and what was I going to do about getting past that and back on the tracks of understanding that sometimes this was the way God works, obviously I wasn't being healed from my reproductive problems, my believing was as weak as it could get in this area.
Bob was ok if I wanted to give up, he was diggin' fatherhood of Samantha and our lives on the outside were lovely. I realized, suddenly, that I didn't want him to be ok with giving up, I wanted him to want this more than we'd ever wanted anything in our lives together.
This was also a time when we had a fellah in our twig that seemed, to me, like he was ripping people off. I didn't have a solid reason, just my instinct. It bugged me enough to screw up my courage and talk about it. "This guy is up to no good, I know it and I want him away from our house, our child".
Of course this was so much not the first time there were people in our home because we had fellowship in it. The homeless population where we were then living was much less, but we brought strangers home nonetheless and often they landed on our couch for a night or 17. I paid extra attention to the teachings about the wife/mother being the one in the home and family to notice things that seemed amiss and alert her head; my husband and it was his responsibility to believe me cuz that's the way God set it up dontcha know. I could not get this one guy out of my mind, he was up to something and I knew it, period.
Sadly I was stifled (wow, weird flashback of Archie and Edith right there).
So I began my own personal investigating, uncovering a love and talent I didn't know I had of finding information.
My husband would leave for work, Samantha would leave for school, I'd do whatever chores I needed to get done and then settle in to find out what the he!! it was that was bugging me so badly about this man and before long it was another person and then another in someone else's twig.
In a few days I learned that the one that first strirred something in my belly had been doing construction scams all over town and in my search for info., I learned I was certainly not the only one looking; some were actually looking for him to get their money back and most were not happy.
One of the people I suspected of innappropriate behavior with children and what I uncovered didn't even begin to break the surface of what he'd been doing.
I developed a sort of system as a mother. I think many of us did, and perhaps some dad's too. My sole goal was to protect her no matter how creative I had to be to get it done. If it was insisted upon that someone I wasn't sure of were to stay in our home, I stayed awake all night, things like that; if I had to have stranger in my home, I was going to know exactly where they were at all times in relation to my child.
If things were going down in TWI in our area and I knew I would going to have to be there for a meeting to "discuss this matter", I tried to field as much as possible ahead of time and arrange for her to stay with someone not involved or convince those who needed convinging that I could catch up after if someone took good enough notes.
What I needed as much as her not having to stay with "believers" was for her to not be exposed to anything, as much as was in my power to do so. It must have worked, 'cuz for years after we left, I'd be telling her something about her dad that involved TWI and she'd have no memory of the event, the meeting, the person or the outcome.
The toughest part, then and still, was that it really didn't matter if I knew something about someone that should raise alert or concern; nothing was going to be done and wasn't. We were to love the unloveable, heal the unhealable, feed the flock, minister to the needs of the needy, the end and if I wanted to get the benefits, I'd damn well better stop this nonsense of not trusting people.
To keep me busy, it was determined that it was time to take the Advanced Class in preparation for going Way Corps and I had enough to do in study for that. I was to use my time more wisely, quit stressing about a baby, attend to my marriage and child and be the best helpmate I could possibly be.
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Shellon
Much like my wedding, I spent alot of the Advanced Class in tears. I'm sure my shrink would have his thoughts on this reality. The only real thing I took from that experience in Rome City, Indiana was from some guy who found me one morning sitting on a bench, crying.
He sat down on the bench, never said a single word, took my hand gently and just sat there. He didn't say 'lets pray, lets speak in tongues, what the freak is the matter with you' nothing, not a single word and I am yet so very thankful for that; he just sat there holding my hand. Then after some time, he rose and left. I wondered later if he was mute like me or why he'd not spoken, like me.
A few days later, I was wandering around the grounds and settled on the grass to watch a basketball game going on. Pretty soon, I felt a hand on mine again and it was him. Again, not a word, just silence, his hand gently on mine, then gone.
A third time, I was back on my bench and then he showed up. My trust issues were not yet what they are now, so I didn't freak out, but I surely was curious. I finally spoke, sharing my confusion on why he kept showing up to comfort me and by the way who the he!! are you.
He grinned a little and said "My name is L*oyd Bi*shop, I'm here for this class too, and I need you to know that I understand". I fell into his arms and sobbed, my body wracking, while he but held me and said nothing further. Then he left and I never saw him again.
I've always wondered why I never thought to look for a name tag or search the sea of faces in the classes or events; I guess it didn't matter. I do know that I messed up his white shirt badly in my crying and I've never forgotten that too.
Maybe it just reminds me that God puts me where I need to be and/or others in my life where they need to be and it's as simple as that.
During another of my wanderings during that class time, I opened a door that I obviously had no business opening to overhear the campus coordinator and another arranging the next woman for our esteemed leader.
Later I found, on my bed, a note from said leader about how thankful he was that I understood the lockbox principle.
It was 1993, I already knew I was in some deep shi+ but this clarified to me that none of our boots were high enough. I returned home, an Advanced Class grad and said nothing.
I think of L*oyd often.
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Shellon
"If it's there, I gotta find it" became my mantra, but the bigger issue was that even if I did find it, I was not going to do anything with it and I never could reconcile the two facts.
For me to take on a Nancy Drew canter could only get me in even more deep shi+ and certainly wasn't going to afford me the comfort of protecting Samantha or keeping life palatable for my husband.
I wonder, now, why it was so easy to come up with a reason not to do something.
1994 was such a tenuious, even pernicious time in The Way Ministry; such a turning point in terms of so many things being on the cusp of discovery, Martindale and his loyal crew had several bugs up their azzes about homosexuality and "clean 'em out, expose 'em for the vile they are". My brother is gay, so I knew that, given the pulse of the "purge" our relationship as siblings was fixin' to be compromised. It was a matter of time, and the time did arrive in my face.
I was given a choice of removing him from my life or risk losing so much more. I knew that my brother was aware of TWI's feelings on his life's choices and we'd always been able to find ways to stay in touch and he knew that I wasn't buying it but rather going along to save myself and my family; we didn't discuss it, it was just known.
I was told I had to call him and there was to be someone there to witness my cutting my brother out of my life "in case you try to pull a fast one". I was told to get this poison, this devil spirit, this chronic problem and clog to my goodness from God out of our lives; how could I possibly continue to think it was ok to expose my child to my brother, even if only on the phone.
Now, my brother and I had always been very close and we'd shared a lifetime of each others' worlds. He picked up on my little problem instantly and we played the game.
I said I had to no longer have him in our lives, surely he understood why and I threw in some ugly stuff about how the devil spirits he was full of were poisoning my family. He said that he understood what I was doing. Note: he didn't say he understood what I was saying; that was the key for me to know that he got it. We decided that if we needed to communicate in so far as a family emergency, he would do so through our mother who would then call the head of my home who would then inform me if he so found it valid.
We then stayed in touch via payphones from then on, pre-arranged ahead of time.
What a sorry state to have to be in, and I remain thankful for my brother and all of my family for being patient while I lost my head and did stupid stuff in the name of not making waves.
Living like this took it's toll on my body and mental health as I lost an unhealthy amount of weight, was constantly looking over my shoulder to determine whom might be making sure I was behaving myself. Sounds paranoid, I understand, and was, but they told me to be sure I understood I would be constantly held accountable and observed; it was all I had.
There was also the issue of trying to have the baby I wanted so badly and couldn't seem to conceive, taking the responsibility on myself, solely. Bob didn't know how to help me, communication ground to a silent and painful halt and we went through daily motions that might have resembled a healthy family serving God and responsible for others. By this time we are having to see doctors secretly, since not being pregnant now after almost 10 years, we must be doing something wrong, as in not believing God for a baby. Also because of my drastic weight loss and stress, my menstrual cycles were even more goofed up and I lost track of ovulation; the one control I had over any of this process.
We ended up seperate again, which was the harshest of insults, even though it was my idea, given our situation of lack of control over everything in our lives, our obvious lack of connection as a married couple, and our glaring lack of believing to get our poop in any group.
The way it was explained to me was that I had "walked out from under my umbrella of coverage and protection" by this action. What I wanted, again, was to be left alone to consider and think and actually understand where I fit in my marriage, in my environment, certainly in this ministry that I couldn't understand no matter how I dressed it up.
I was no longer allowed to assist my husband with a twig and in fact he was no longer allowed to be a twig coordinator, either, since it was so clear that he couldn't even keep him own wife under submission.
I took a little apartment close to where my husband was living and we decided, eventually to date occasionally, to back way the he!! up and talk about things, about us, about having a baby, about those vows we'd really meant 10 years prior.
Now, however, we were away from the glaring eyes of leadership, family, doctors and having given up on the dream of getting pregnant if this was what it was going to cost.
We got pregnant.
New problems. I was 34 years old with a negative Rh factor in my blood, weighed about 98 pounds and our marriage was clearly not at a place to have this child. My new mission was to pull it all together no matter what it took, the end of discussion.
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Shellon
It's been asked of me, twice, of whom I am speaking here in these statements.
The conversation I overheard was between W*y*ne C*app and another who's name I have never known nor face I recognized discussing who was to be Craig Martindales next female companion; not an uncommon practice during Mr. Martindale's tenure as President of The Way International.
The note given me the next day was from Martindale, written on the back of an envelope.
I understood alright and I followed his suggestion, an action I regret.
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JeffSjo
It seems I didn't have the details quite right even after you told me before Darlin.
Thank you for clarifying that one for me. :)
Broken lockbox..... better than stuffing all this nasty crapola IMO.
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Shellon
I believed that, too but knew that if I broke it and spilled it's contents the cost would simply be too high. Every cost that I could see would be too high in my family.
Today I will never live like that again. Today I talk too much, I go into meetings and insist on being heard, I confront and welcome same. But getting here was a rocky road and the loss was still great.
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grand-daughter
Oh the old nasty lockbox ...., I wish I'd never heard of it and certainly wish I never taught it to my children. :(
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Shellon
We moved again into a shared house and continued to work on our marriage and family and on July 7, 1995 I gave birth in our home to our second daughter, Kelly Rene' North. She was born 7/7 and she weighed 7/7 so one might imagine what was done with that......
We had no way of knowing in 2 years Bob North would be dead.
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Shellon
The girls, Samantha age 15, Kelly age 2 about 3 months after their daddy's death
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Shellon
Kelly was a planned home birth with daddy, the midwife, big sister and my mother in attendance. Healthy pregnancy and amazing delivery of our beautiful child. She was born with part of her intestines outside of her body, so that required some medical intervention and then teaching us how to properly care for her. And she was a colic baby so she screamed for about 3 months.
Straight.
All the time.
But else a sweet good baby and we found ways to be creative in sleep and adjusting to a new baby in the house while also learning to live with a teenager. Yikes.
We were traveling 4 hours to Limb functions every 2-3 weekends and it was taking a toll on our little family with a newborn baby, so we moved to Little Rock, easing life quite a bit and at this point our marriage was at a pretty good place, our teenager was doing ok and our new baby was an 8 month old. I was able to stay home with her, we were not running a fellowship in our home for the first time in so long; it was such a relief to just go to one, come home and keep moving along.
Bob's brother in law was offered a job as Superintendent of a job in Orlando, Florida building a mall and he wanted to hire Bob as his assistant. This was the first and I think only time I didn't automatically ask 'when do we have to be there, I'll start packing' and hit the speed dial for U-Haul.
Something bad was wrong with this picture; really bad and while I couldn't come up with exactly what, it was very clear to me that our moving this time was wrong.
I was over ruled, he moved on ahead of us while I started packing up our house for the move, he found a house for us to rent outside Orlando and started a very high stress, long hours job. A month later he flew home for a fast weekend, we were ready and we left, me all the while carrying this "something's wrong here" in my heart.
A wife is to follow her husband, right? Even if the idea is about as wrong as it could ever be, she's to stand mute and hopefully nod in all the right places. At least in TWI's framework of us that was truth. I did express repeatedly "this is so not good" but I was instructed to believe God, trust my man and load up my babies. He grew increasingly irritated with my concerns and wished I'd just back him up and be happy.
I backed him up.
We arrived at our new home outside Orlando on May 5, 1997 and he died on June 8, 1997.
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copenhagen
Shellon
All I can say is thanks for sharing.. I am sorry for your loss.
I really enjoyed the story and I knew the ending from your previous posts
but my heart is still sad. I hope in some way by sharing all that you have
here at the cafe it will some how help you grow or whatever you need..
You put a lot of heart and emotion here and only you know why, I just want
you to be better from it...
copenhagen
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Shellon
Hi Copenhagen, thank you and ya know, I AM better from all of it. I hope that in all things in my world, I take what I need from whatever it is and apply it how it fits into the new situation. Experiences and 'oh shi+' that might apply somewhere.
The girls and I developed a new normal that has worked really well for us and we've grown and continued on into good things. Their father is greatly missed and his memory is sweet in our lives; we were very fortunate to have had him as husband and father.
I have to credit Jeff (our own JeffSjo) here, in that his comfort and love gives me confidence to know I'm supported and understood, no matter what. I'm really not sure I could have told what I have so far without his unconditional care.
The story has not ended here and I hope you'll continue to read, copenhagen.
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Shellon
It felt like the time span between my husband collapsing on our bed and the hours after he was pronounced dead, all of the most confusing, challenging things I'd ever heard any of them say had been thrown at me.
Just believe God for him to survive this
You can raise him from the dead. DO IT!
Why are you not getting revelation, or is it that you are not listening, or it is that you are not believing.
What do you want, your husband is not able to make the decisions, you have to for him.
What is his weakness, why did this happen, where did you and he fail in your marriage that this should happen.
You have to get in there and make them take care of him, this is a son of God we're talking about here and you are his wife!
My mom brain continued to move as fast as my wife brain but neither as fast as my fear and confusion. People from Headquarters were calling since his two of my in-laws lived there with the Wiewille's;one with Mrs. W and one with Don and Wanda. I had no answers to the miriad of questions coming from all directions. I could see our babies, I could hear someone screaming "raise him from the dead" at me, I could hear hospital sounds.
I looked at my 23 month old baby girl sitting in this busy-ness, coloring. I looked at my 15 year old baby girl looking back at me, imploring me to fix her daddy.
Our Limb Coordinator, Bob Moynihan, had been on vacation fishing somewhere I think and when he showed up, I was somehow relieved to see him coming across the parking lot. I met him half way and he said only 8 words to me. "There is a difference between desperation and revelation". Well, ok, but I was desperate, so somebody better come up with some mighty fine revelation. This shi+ messes with people's minds.
Martindale was doing a teaching on stage and was given a note and sent word that he was believing with us. Somehow that wasn't as comforting as I'm sure it was supposed to be.
The one call I understood was Don Wierwille, as he said to me, standing there in the emergency waiting room "honey, what do you want to do?" Somehow it provided me immunity from making alot of immediate decisions about my husband, the father of my children! I answered "I want it to be over" and he said "then it is".
As simple as that, the end.
What the HE!! did that mean?
Where the fu(k was God, really. Was he in my heart, was he in Bob's body while they shocked his heart, shoved tubes down his throat and injected him with heart attack stopping drugs?
Where was God when I was performing CPR on the man I'd promised to love, cherish and live a life with? Where the he!! was God when, just moments before, my husband stood at the end of our bed in front of me and said "my chest is caving in, pray for me right now". Five minutes before that, he had been lying down on our couch, resting, we were going to go shopping for a toddler bed after lunch.
I prayed, but didn't get very many words out of my mouth before life shifted.
Where was God when the doctor did his "we've done all we can do and I'm sorry but.." speech in the middle of the waiting room with total strangers staring at us.
Was God in our lives or had we been abandoned and left to the foolishness of men who knew nothing of him.
I had been asking God for about 4 years to 'get us out of here'. Was this the answer and if so, I wasn't interested, thank you very much.
I would have given 15 years of faithful prayer back if I could have told my babies 'Daddy is sick but he's going to be just fine'
I would find out where God was and I was to find out within hours where the men and women who bragged about speaking for Him were. Yes there is a big difference between desperation and revelation and i was about to see it live and in color.
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waysider
Pompous bastages!
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Shellon
I was allowed in to the trauma area where my dead husband lay, but suddenly realized while standing there that my fellowship coordinator was standing there too. He, at least, was gracious enough to give me a few minutes alone, but still stood "just outside that door right there".
Kinda makes me giggle now, but sure wasn't funny for a very long time.
I looked into the now quiet face of the man I'd vowed to live life with, raise children with, grow old with. The man I'd struggled with through 15 years of life, grown up with, laughed and cried with. The man I'd seen heal others' lives with his calm words of compassion and gentleness. The man who only 2 years before had been wracked with sobs of joy at holding his newborn baby.
He was gone.
I'd never been of the mind of "I could never live with out him, I'd just die if he did" probably cuz that's a silly thing to wish on our children, but i did entertain the thought for a short time; I didn't want to do this without him, we'd finally gotten to a better place in this life, he had finally been what I thought was truly happy in his work, he had begun to see some end to some of our daily struggles and felt like he was taking care of his family.
I removed the sheet covering they'd put on him and touched his entire body, searching for some way to come up with a goodbye to this fascinating, interesting, loving and good man. What felt more right was that he looked so quiet, so asleep and he'd wake up and be irritated that I was staring at him.
Where was his sock ! ? He only had one sock on and for some reason that pisxed me off. These are the things that come and go in our minds in crisis.
A sock.
Somehow my oldest and I were in a little room with Bob Moynihan and our fellowship coordinator and we were discussing important things, I assume. The most important, to me, was when Samantha said "can we go home now?" meaning back to Little Rock where we'd just lived a short 6 or so weeks earlier, where her friends were, where alot of her dad's family was. We were strangers her and dealing with this immense loss with them. Yes we could go home now.
Someone gave us a ride back to our house where I found, to my further exhaustion and ire, people. Alot of people. Someone had arranged for people to come to our home before we got there and clean up, finish the lunch I had been fixing a few short hours ago and prepare it on my dining room table. Remembering this now, I have no idea who these people were and the instructions to eat something, coupled with a sea of emotions and questions, only served to further make me mad.
A phone in our house kept ringing but others answered it and responded to whomever was calling. My children were being seen to by other strangers. Someone began to do dishes in my kitchen sink, I heard a vacuum. Someone handed me a pill and a glass of wine. I flushed the pill in the toilet on my way into our bedroom, thinking a glass of wine in the last place I'd shared with my husband was a good idea. I wanted to be alone and think.
I didn't get further than the doorway into our bedroom when I realized that these strangers had cleaned it. This somehow brought the grief of what had just gone down in our worlds to the front of my life sooner than I was ready to see it. The room looked as if nothing had happened in there. I wanted to see the bed askew where the paramedics had shoved it to make more room, I wanted to clean up the 'mess' from my CPR and his body's reaction to it. I wanted to put the laundry away that I had been working on when he collapsed. I longed for something normal.
None of it was there; everything done for me.
Where was that damn sock.
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grand-daughter
Oh my God Shell,
I'm sitting here in tears thinking about how hard it all must have been for you. I remember when my Nathan dies so vividly as I read your story all I can say is I'm sorry you ever had to go through all of that. ((((HUGS)))))
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Shellon
I didn't want to call my parents. Yet I was already offended that in the emergency room and since getting home, I'd spoken with every one of my inlaws; but of course they needed to know that their son/brother had just died so unexpectedly, so suddenly.
My parents and brothers were never really a part of our family, sadly, and this was no different. unbelievers outside of the household, outside of the family of God and one of them gay. Uhhuh, not a part of the general consideration, sadly.
I understood later I didn't want to talk to my parents because I couldn't stand any more "what do you want me to do?" And where my parents were concerned, I'm afraid the answer might have been 'get me the .... outa here'.
I called my big brother, Steve. He and I had never been emotional together, sharing of anything that might require discussion beyond benign things just wasn't his gig. He rose to the occasion for which I needed him and was my spokesperson until the middle of the night, when I was finally ready to talk to our other two brothers. My parents had talked to him and were on their way the next day and I should have been looking forward to their comfort, their console, their presence. Instead I found myself dreading what was likely going to happen with them and the TWI folks. For the most part, we had never put our two families together, save for our wedding, I think, and now I had to deal with that alone.
There was the TWI family/ household, my husband's family within the household who had just been dealt such a tremendous tragic loss and there was my family; three very different dynamics in my world.
People were everywhere, where did all those people come from, people I'd recently only met at a Fathers Day Limb picnic and never really spoken to, people who only heard of us as 'the new family from Arkansas'. They were in my house, caring for my children, fixing our meals, doing our laundry, staring at me. When I'd go into the bathroom, someone would wait outside the door. When I took my children for a walk, someone kept a fair distance, but followed behind. When I went to the bank to get money out before they learned of his death and froze that bad boy, someone had to come with me.
Exhausting.
The funeral home people wanted answers from me; that hadn't occured to me until they called with the question "Mrs North, what are your wishes regarding your husbands remains?"
Remains? My husband had been reduced to "remains".
The Christmas before, there had been family discussion about cremation and he had briefly said he liked that idea. Someone else said that because he was only 35 and died so suddenly, it was legally required that an autopsy be perfomed. No, I don't care what anything legal says, there will be no autopsy, oh he!! no. They told me they didn't have to have my permission, legally, but they'd prefer I sign the permission sheet to allow them to examine my husband pathilogically. Because it's what I did, I called Moynihan and he said I had to comply, I had to follow the laws of the land, indeed I had no choice.
My parents arrived shortly after Bob's family but I couldn't get to them. We had a little extra sitting space where our office was and my parents sat on the couch in there with me finding my way to them eventually but only to be called away to greet someone, take another call, make another decision. My parents were completely ignored, so uncomfortable, felt most unwelcome. I looked again and they were gone, assumingly to their hotel. Other family members had been offered and arranged escorts, housing and other needs, but not my parents; they were alienated, set apart, not "household".
What was going to happen when my gay brother showed up in a couple of days for the memorial service.
The Way International's care of family at it's absolute worst.
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Shellon
Thank you grand-daughter, I was thinking of your Nathan, as well, the other day in terms of how grief was stolen from us. Too many parents like yourself, spouses such as myself, children and other loved ones never being allowed to just feel their grief and make decisions according to their need. Such a sad and tragic shame.
Waysider, no kidding eh? All under the pretense of loving people through their loss and mourning process? I think not so much.
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Shellon
Decisions at the time of loss are everywhere and since I was the wife, of course I had to make the really tough ones like "We are going to cremate your husband's remains at 1:00 pm tomorrow afternoon, would you like to attend?"
The autopsy had been performed and the cause of death determined to be Atherosclerosis, he had 90% blockage in the majority of his heart, 100 % in some vessels, not compatible with life.
No, I didn't not want to attend my husband's cremation, even though it was explained to me that I didn't have to necessarily stay and watch the process, but they like someone to view the remains a final time and nod through a glass partition that in affirmation that yes that is the right person. The choice to stay until the ending was an option.
Sometimes I read medical books for fun, I knew exactly what was fixin' to happen and no, I did not want to sit with a cup of coffee and watch. But my dad offered to go, which I thought was a great idea so I handed him the keys to our car and took a really long, thoughtful walk, understanding what he was seeing, knowing he'd give me the full report and understanding that this was, somehow, the most final of it all, I had no choice but to accept this loss now.
So vivid in my memory is one of the strangers that kept hanging out at my house pulling up beside me during this walk. Now what, was all I could think, until they told me. My dad had called my house. The car, our car, the only car we had, was broken down and what did I want to do. I wanted to suggest that since they'd been making all of my other decisions for me, they could figure it out, but this was something I could have control over, maybe. Here was a thought; 'go pick up my father and call a tow service to get my car home too, how 'bout it?'.
I have no memory of how my dad did get back to my house, but he did so without my car as it was deemed "needs engine replacement, will not operate".
Weird. The man who had just been cremated did all of his own mechanic work and his vehicles always ran very well. This inconvenience only left me more at the whim and mercy of the TWI staring people.
Somewhere in this mess, we met in the Moynihan's living room to talk about a memorial service; Bob's family that had arrived and me. My parents, of course, were not invited and sadly I did not insist they be included. In fact I don't even know where my parents were. In this little meeting, we told Bob stories, we discussed how the service would work, who would do what. By 'we' I mean Moynihan and family, not myself. I had never wanted to get out of a room so badly or swiftly.
Where were our children in all of this? It felt like I had not held my babies or talked to them in days.
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Shellon
I hate wearing dresses, always have and one way to get to spend time with my mom was to ask her to shop for dresses for myself and the girls for the memorial service. Just me, Samantha and my mom, no other family, no handlers, no followers. My dad had agreed to stay with Kelly. But we had to be creative, I was very good at this shi+ with TWI. It got us about 2 hours the afternoon before the service to just be quiet together, for her to hold my hand and us to relax a little. I had always wondered what people do with themselves when someone that close dies; just a curiosity of mine that I no longer had questions about, sadly.
I still hate that we had to sneak away, however and not have their support and comfort and understanding that my mom had just lost her son in law, a man she loved and she was hurting too. I recall no one asking her how she was, did she need something, expressing condolences to her.
When we got home, all he!! had already begun, it just wasn't obviouse yet, not too clear, just something in the air. I asked my dad where all the people were and he said "gone" to which I, of course said "where, what do you mean gone?" and of course his response was "just gone, Shellon".
He was piszed off about something and I had no more energy to get into it, especially with my mom and children right there. Ok, gone, good.
It occurs to me now that so much of this week, I had no idea where Samantha was. If you know me, you know that's just not an option, not knowing where one of my children is; it's simply not. But now I couldn't tell you. I have no memory of our usual goodnight routine, I don't recall getting after her once about her teeth numbing music or where the phone was and who was on the other end, our normal stuff.
That makes me sad that I lost touch and was so lost that I didn't know where my child was. Kelly was 23 months old so she was on my hip or hanging with grandpa or contently off to the side coloring or singing or watching video's. I can still recite the entire 30 minutes of SPOT from the video she watched over and over and .......
But Samantha......no. Fifteen years old and her father, her best friend, had just died and her mama didn't even know......
Dammit, therapy is brutal.
After dinner,Bob Moynihan showed up, announced, uninvited, again. My dad had been drinking shots of Black Velvet in memory of his son in law.
The two together was a sure bad mixture and I knew it, but there was no where to hide and I knew that too. Was I hoping to keep these two men apart? Maybe, but here it was and it was ugly right from the start.
I introduced Mr. Moynihan to Mr. and Mrs. Fockler; my parents Dale and Phyllis. "hello, nice to meet you, bless you, we sure enjoy your daughter around here, yes thank you we think she's pretty wonderful too"
Whew, not so bad.
My dad was the first to speak. He announced to Moynihan that he expected to be able to speak at Bob's service tomorrow. Moynihan said that was not possible, he has a ministry service that was protocol and there was to be no other additions.
Dale Fockler repeated himself, Bob Moynihan repeated himself and on it went, louder and louder and moved into the middle of my kitchen.
I'm still not sure which one, I think it was my dad, who said "We'll ask Shellon". It had to be my dad, Moynihan would never ask me if I wanted to breath if he could help it.
There was no time for escape, the distance from my kitchen to my living room was but a few short feet and two very irate faces were looking to me to give the right answer. I looked at the Limb Coordinator or Florida and I ditched my own father. I replied "I do not know what the procedure is, Dad, but Rev. Moynihan has to do it a certain way".
I had just stolen my dad's one opportunity to be a part of his son in law's funeral, I had just turned my back on my family again for a religious organization that had turned it's back on me over and over again. I had just insulted my mother yet again, I had let my children down some more.
Standing there in front of my parents, the people who raised me to be honest and straight up, to never back down from anything, to hold to what I believed no matter who stood with me, the people who had raised me. And I betrayed them.
Again.
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