The True Story of My Life #9 (After Hostage Situation)

I feel incompetent to write my own story. I can make observations and sometimes I even feel inspired. But right now, I don't even feel like writing. If I can write about something painful about my mother, I've proven to myself I can write through secrets and shame. It doesn't matter if I know some people will seize upon what I write, with satisfaction, like sharks. It doesn't matter if I'm mocked. God did give me a lot, but not more than I could bear, and I know I am supposed to share every part of it. If that takes the "mystery" away, and if in any way I diminish my own worth, in the eyes of society or a future "soulmate", then I think one or more men are spared, and I am also spared the discomfort of having to deal with mediocrity.

After the hostage situation, I stayed at my house. My roommates went through varying stages of shock and then started having symptoms of trauma. I went through my stages right in the beginning, and processed quickly. My roommates moved out. For me, to move would be signifying defeat. I also felt I had no good reason to move. I was very involved in my community and had a bunch of kids who I was taking to church and taking out for coffee and sodas. These kids came over to my house, unannounced, all the time. I really loved them with my whole heart.

I reached out further. I went to the low income apartments behind my house, and just started knocking on doors, introducing myself as the neighbor and getting to know people. I met a stripper at one apartment. She was gorgeous. This woman was a beautiful black young woman with a toddler at home. She had a boyfriend and then went to work at night. She was newly pregnant and still stripping. She told me, "It's sick. Some guys like it. They like pregnant women." She told me she got paid more when she was pregnant, but that one time, a guy acted like he saw her as a person and cared, and gave her a bunch of money simply out of concern, telling her to take care of herself and that she was worth more.

I took this woman to my church's food bank. I also introduced her to Pastor Probasco's wife and they had a private meeting. We visited and I saw there were feces from her child's diaper, on the carpet and the wall. I asked her if there was anything she needed that I could help her with. She asked if I could vaccum and told me she didn't have a vaccum. She was going to move out or someone was coming to inspect, and she wanted to have her house clean. I gulped. I said no problem. I remember thinking, as someone who doesn't particularly love to clean house, this was the most disgusting thing I could ever do. I didn't want to do it. I thought about it, and dreaded the day, but I pulled myself together, put my vaccum cleaner in my car, and drove over to her house on the agreed day. I knocked forever. She wasn't home. I remember saying to God, "THANK YOU!!!!" I thought, "Wow. I hope that was just a test, and I hope I passed and don't have to go back..."

I tried to find out what happened to the woman. I was later told she was at a woman's shelter in hiding from her boyfriend who had abused her. So everything eventually worked out for everyone.

At that time in my life, I believed everything was a "test". An opportunity. A challenge. Even something bad could be used for good, and I believed I was building character and strength. My biggest mistake was in thinking MOST people, even christians, were on the same page. I thought, you just give, and it will come back to you. I have learned this isn't true. Sometimes it comes back to you, but other times, you give, and you cannot expect anything in return, and to do so is to set oneself up for major disappointment and bitterness.

I considered, at that time, becoming a missionary. I was a dedicated christian, and I loved adventure. I thought, conservative enough at that time, I could be a "missionary's wife" but not a "pastor's wife". I needed the excitement and culture, not hum-drum picket fences. I was blending my need for adventure with my conservative beliefs that sharing scripture with others could save their souls.

I signed up with my church for a housebuilding missions trip to The Dominican Republic.