Category Archives: Memories

The Writing Struggle

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Today I wrote another chapter for my book. And I must say…it gave me a heart work-out.

I totally get why people conceal injustices.

While revisiting some very painful moments from my childhood I struggled writing them down – for so many reasons. Not so much that it was hard for me, personally. I don’t relive the memories anymore like I used to. In fact, during recall, I actually feel as if I’m hovering over the past moment, watching it unfold as a total outsider. I feel physically detached yet there is still a connect. It’s hard to explain, really. Perhaps one of you can identify and articulate this better.

But what I struggle with the most is wanting to protect the people who were around me and “involved” at that time.

I struggle with the thought that while I do not have to endure all those abuses anymore, there are countless of children who are suffering this very second. Children who are being beaten and molested and threatened. They are frightened and alone. Even in a sea of people…they are alone and terrified. I hate that. More than I can describe.

I struggle with how much to share. I know I have literary freedom. But I also love and respect my family. I want to protect them.

This process is harder than I imagined it would be. Yet, it is one of the most necessary things I have ever done…for me, my family and, hopefully, for those who will someday read it.

I’m praying that as God walks me through this process that He will have me write exactly what is necessary and beneficial for His sake, His children’s sake and His glory.

Please pray with me…

[Following is an excerpt from todays chapter]

The secrets continued on. The sexual abuse, the physical abuse.

“Tam, how come you’re using a pillow on your chair at the dinner table?”

Danny glares at me with his sparkling eyes from across the table.

“Oh, um, I fell off my bike on the way home from school today.”

No. Not really. I had just been beaten with Danny’s belt-buckle while bent over this very chair, naked, for a half-hour straight for forgetting to wash a drinking glass this morning. But if I tell you that, mama, he’ll kill you. That’s what he told me. And I don’t want you to die. So I will lie to you. I will keep this secret. 

Pains Of Parenting

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Yes. There are pains involved with parenting. There are times when you want to run…run as fast as you can, as far away as possible. And if there happens to be a cliff involved you might consider a little jump.

Not just because a child or two has found your very last nerve. Sometimes you wanna run because you get scared. You become afraid of all the ways you might have messed your children up. Missed the best teaching and growing opportunities. Afraid of letting go – but knowing you have to.

There have been countless times when I have cried myself to sleep at nights, begging the Lord to erase from their memories any ridiculous words that came out my mouth or actions that spewed forth, if they were not going to build character…or mine. Yes, there are times when a parents failures serve as some of the best teaching moments. It’s often where humility and grace are best learned. Boy, do I know this.

My daughter is nearing her 18th birthday. My son just turned 15. I know what this means. It means the time is coming close when they will spread their wings and no longer be in this nest. It has all happened so fast. And so, now, I spend many nights crying myself to sleep because I know this time is inevitable, and I just want to freeze this moment.

They own my heart. That’s where they always are and always will be. Even when the day comes where they will no longer physically be near me.

So when they each gave me letters, that they wrote to me for my birthday last night, all these worries, fears and anticipations came to a sudden stop. I saw their words as a collection of years gone by…good and bad…but moments that have stayed with them and made them into the young adults they are becoming.

I am so proud of my kids. No, they are not perfect. I am not perfect. Brent is not perfect. We do things that would likely shock y’all. But we’re taking each day as it comes and doing the best we can with them. And I hope they do the same with their own kiddos some day.


[Family Photo by Alece]

It’s all worth it. Every single moment.

I Wouldn’t Change A Thing

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[A repost from last year. With all the book writing I'm doing I was reminded of this moment again.]

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monday night when i told kota about my abortions, and that i had been married before and widowed, he put a very special piece of my journeys puzzle together.

when i left my first husband, actually when i escaped with my life, i ended up in southern california where i would just two months later meet the Lord.

kotas response to that was…

“mom…if that wouldn’t have happened kass and i wouldn’t be here. none of this would be happening.”

he is absolutely right.

none of my journey was fun to travel. at least not that part. but it got me to a monumental crossroads that forced me to take stock of my life and make some big girl decisions.

im not one of those people who wish i could live my life over so i could change it. my life, as dysfunctional and traumatic as so much of it was, got me to this exact place i am now.

there were scary parts, lonely roads, hurts, disappointments, terrible choices, abuse and much pain…and all of it served to teach me a lot. it exposed my weaknesses and my strengths. it broke me and built me.

i could look back on it all and ask…why me? or, i can see the now and embrace it for what it is…the result of many life circumstances that came together to create the now. a path completely in view by God. by a God who knew exactly what He was doing. He allowed, not made, hurt in my life because it built my character. character that needed refined so that i could be the wife and mother and friend i needed to be.

and in one short conversation…my son understood that.

i love how God is in every detail. we just need to look closer and trust that He’s there.

 

The Fear Of My Past Catching Up With Me

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A few months ago Angie Smith asked me, and several other women, to be a part of Blooms Book Club, at (in) courage. Book to be discussed…Angie’s 2nd book, What Women Fear.

Each of us ladies were assigned a chapter to discuss with Jess and Angie, via video. I was given Chapter Six: The Fear Of My Past Catching Up With Me.

Let me tell you, Angie could not have picked a better chapter for me to share on. She wrote this chapter for me! And, you.

We all have regrets. But we do not all have to live under the trappings of them.

Please, take a moment to watch the video and receive whatever it is you might need to hear from it.

You can contact Ang, Jess or me if you have any questions or just need to chat.

[VIDEO]

Scar Triggers

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I have a scar on the top of my foot that when I touch it it is numb. Yet, I can feel the touching sensation in my big toe. And stranger even more…parts of my big toe are numb to the touch.

Take a second. It’ll make sense.

Today I was thinking about scars. We all have them. Physical scars. Emotional scars.

Wounds can heal. They can even be years ‘removed’, but they’re still there. Wrapped up as little reminders of the pain that once was. And at times…pain that still is.

The scar on my foot makes me think of how when I revisit other past scars of life sometimes they send messages to other parts of me. Like, my thoughts…my heart…my memories. I don’t necessarily relive the root of the pain the scar serves a reminder of, but it can often times trigger other pains.

The other night as I was touching the scar on my foot, over and over, I was fascinated by the fact I could feel it in my toe. The pain of the surgery and scar are no longer felt. But it has left a mark and residuals in other areas.

Isn’t that just like life?

I have to ask myself, when revisiting my many array of lifes scars, am I dwelling on them and reliving the pain – or am I thankful for how the pain has lessened and how far I’ve come. Even if I do feel it in other areas…that’s okay. It means I am growing and changing. It means I am still alive.

How do you look at your scars?

I Wonder What I Would’ve Become…

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Earlier today Alece and I were talking about what people have become in life because others poured into them.

Like Venus and Serena Williams. From childhood they were encouraged in their sport.

Many actors and musicians…the same.

Lots of “successful” people I know were encouraged at a young age to explore their gifts and talents.

Parents play a large role in this. Some teachers do as well.

I said to Alece, just the night before, that I never truly had a desire to go to college. Though I always felt like there was something for me to do in life but had no idea what it was.

When I was a small child I used to line up all my stuffed animals on my bed in several rows as if they were an audience. I would take the kitchen broom and stand it up in one of my play buckets, stuffed with clothes so that the broom could stand on its own. That became my microphone.

No. I did not sing for my stuffed audience.

I talked.

I imagined they needed me. I pretended they were there to hear me talk to them.

I helped them. I told them stories.

Me, a tiny 8 year old, sharing hope with my fiber filled friends.

It just felt natural.

But no one ever knew that was in me. I never said anything.

No one ever asked.

I was never encouraged to explore. It was like no one was aware of me.

So today I wondered…What would’ve become of me had someone, anyone, invested into little Tam.

I wonder.

Do you ever wonder?

I can’t see angels

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Thirty five years ago I was in a car with my Grandparents, Baba and Gramps, in Southern CA on our way to a Dodgers and Angels Baseball game. This would be my very first sporting event. I was beyond excited!

It was just the three of us. Good seats. Peanuts. All the soda and licorice I could eat. All while being sandwiched in between my two favorite people.

Obviously, at age 5 and a girl, I had no clue about sports. But I was happy to be there and was willing to learn everything about baseball. Baba and Gramps loved them some Angels, too!

Armed with all our snacks, and each other, we watched the Dodgers make their way out to the field.

While they warmed up my Grandparents began explaining a bit of baseball to me. I learned where all the bases were. Where the pitcher stood. Why that man squatted, wearing that funny mask. They taught me everything.

I was growing more excited.

But nothing compared to the excitement that was on the way.

The opponents came out to the field. They were running, pitching, catching and stretching.

My Baba exclaimed, “There they are! The Angels!”

My eyes got HUGE!

“Where, Baba?!! Where are the angels??”

“Right there, hun! On the field.”

“I don’t see them!”

Gramps: “They’re down there with the other players, running around.”

“How come you and Baba can see them and I can’t??”

“Hun, you have to be able to see them. You can tell them apart from the others by their sleeves. They have rings around their arms.”

Perplexed, always being told that halo’s floated above angels heads and not arms, I strained my little eyes in an attempt to see a floating arm halo. Anywhere. On anyone.

Nothing.

The tears came flooding out. I was devastated that I couldn’t see the angels.

Eventually, Baba and Gramps gave up trying to show me the Angels. I sat through the entire game looking for them. But I never caught a glimpse.

I walked away that day deciding not to like baseball anymore. Or angels. I thought they were selfish.

Thinking about this day makes me laugh. I always picture the “Who’s on first” little diddy. I wonder if it ever dawned on my Grandparents that I was looking for actual angels. Real angels, in white, with wings and halo’s in the right place.

Baba and Gramps are no longer with us. Hopefully, they’re playing baseball with the angels…

You care to share any funny childhood story where you completely had the wrong impression or idea about something?

1 in 4

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New study finds that 1 in 4 teenage girls have a sexually transmitted disease.

When I first read that I thought…

Phew…at least I never got one of those.

As if two abortions is somehow better and less embarrassing.

But 1 in 4 teenage girls. Wow.

When Kass was in High School there were 1,200 students enrolled. Say half of those are girls. That would mean 150 of those girls, statistically, have a sexually transmitted disease. And I wonder, how many more of them will end up pregnant. How many of them will wind up having an abortion.

When I was in High School they taught about abstinence. They taught about safe sex and had condom vending machines in all of the bathrooms. But…I remember our health teacher telling my class that it was impossible to expect us not to have sex. This is the same class that hosted a faux Spring wedding. My boyfriend and I were the couple the class chose for this project. We had to arrange our wedding ceremony, complete with dress, tux, wedding party, rings and reception, to be held at lunch hour on a friday afternoon during school.

I remember my mother being so upset at this. I didn’t understand her anger. But she was furious! She said it encouraged unhealthy relationships. It gave a false sense of being adults.

I was mad at her and her unwillingness to understand.

Well, wouldn’t you know it…the boyfriend I fake married at school…was the the same one I ended up having two abortions with.

Mom, you were right.

Question: As parents, what can/should we do to educate our kids on sex and all that it involves?

Do you agree with my high school health teacher that it is impossible to keep teens from having sex?

Reaching back for a reminder

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There is a long path from being wounded to being an overcomer.

I have been so far displaced from the hurts of my past that I can easily forget the pain and agony that is certain in the healing process.

Being a victim of mental, emotional, physical and sexual abuse…I sincerely understand the pain and trauma that comes with it all.

I can recall when Brent and I were first married and he had come home late from work one evening which made him late for an appointment later that night. He came into the bedroom, where I was, and quickly changed his clothes. In the process of this speedy, somewhat frantic, wardrobe change he quickly whipped off his belt.

Instantly…I froze. I had seen him remove it from the corner of my eye and I heard that, oh-so-familiar, swoosh sound a belt can make. In a fraction of a second I became anxious, afraid and angry at him.

Brent rushed out the door and was off to his next appointment having no idea I was sitting on our bed, frightened and angry, reliving terrible memories of abuse.

Little things like this went on for a few years. It was exhausting.

After many years spent in times of reflection, prayer and accountability, I finally came to the conclusion that I could no longer convict a person for someone else’s crimes against me.

It was unfair to them. It was unfair to me.

But I did it. I did it many times.

There were people in my life at that time who called me out and challenged me to grow. To grow away from this and to grow because of it. I am grateful for their tough love and that they did not let me stay where I was.

And this is where understanding and grace comes in. Because I, myself, have been there…I need to empathize with others who are there now.

It is wrong of me not to do so. And I’m certain I have been wrong many times. Of this, I am not proud of. I am still learning.

All this to say…Let us not forget where we have come from.

a blast from the past

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Sunday night the kids and I went through our vimeo account and watched a ton of videos. It was so much fun. We laughed. A lot.

Kota’s voice has changed so much! Kass used to have long blonde hair. I had totally forgotten about that.

Boy…time goes by fast. Remember when you were a kid and all the adults would always tell you how fast time went by? And you’d think, “Whatever. Time can’t go by fast enough for me!”

sigh.

While the kids have changed faster than I can keep up with…Brent…has not.

Here is an outtake video from 2 years ago.

Disclaimer: I am not responsible for anything this man does. I am contactually obligated to laugh at with him.