Thankful for God's gift to me. My Dad!

It is a few days until Thanksgiving. I have been counting my blessings and giving thanks for those in my life that have changed me by having crossed my path, those walking with me now and those that have traveled my path with me in my past. Everyone that has touched my life and those that are still to enter that I have not yet met. Thank you. I believe with all my heart that everyone who you ever meet has a "gift" to give. We do not always knowingly accept the gift but it becomes a part of who you are. Sometimes we not only accept the "gift" but it profoundly changes us from that point forward. This entry today is about a man in my life that I am specifically grateful for and one I will love for the rest of my life. This is my Dad.


At the age of 7, in Port Hedland, Australia, my Father and Mother were fighting with one another after my Father had been unfaithful with my Mother's best friend. My Mother, had walked in on them and knowing De and I understood what was happening, had decided that this was an example that she could not set for her girls, It would not have been ok if she were to have condoned it. Her actions at this time sent a message to me that has rippled through my life. (The message was one that says "I have worth, I do not have to be disrespected, I always have options.) I believe she then had decided we would be heading back to the United States where we would live with my Grandparents. Unfortunately, before we could leave Australia, my Father did a most unkind thing.

One stormy rainy night after the 4 of us were sound asleep at our babysitters home, my Father came in to the house in the middle of the night and took us, his 4 kids, without informing our Mom of where he was taking us or if he would be bringing us back. He, coldly, came in and rushed us out to the car. I remember being confused and sad but assumed we would ok at least until we got to the airport.

This plane took off in the pouring rain, thunder and lightning. It bounced around and dropped from the air only to pick back up and get thrown from side to side. I don't know how long the flight took but it was terrifying. I do not believe I will ever be that scared again. My sister, De, (alias)who was only 8 at the time asked my sister Su (also an alias), brother Ty (again an alias) and myself to close our eyes and pretend that we were at Disneyland and that the noises and motion were a part of our favorite ride (The Pirates of the Caribbean). She then would tell stories and make every effort to make us laugh as we tried so very hard not to be afraid. It was in these moments I felt her strength. She was trying to comfort and protect us as she did most of her life.

I do not remember landing at the airport after that horrifying flight, but I do remember riding in the car after the plane. All 4 of us were crying and scared and tired. We wanted our Mother. It was then that my Father told us that he and our Mother were divorcing and that he had to get us away. For a brief moment the fear I had felt on the airplane was no more, My fear was not seeing my Mother was all consuming. My Father had traveled most of my childhood. I only really have a few memories of him and unfortunately, most of them are of him yelling, throwing things. He was always yelling and screaming at Mom or De. I have a few soft loving memories but they are drowned out but the sad ones. Our Mother was our constant security, our base , our home, our Mom. He was taking us away from the one person who had always been there.

My next memory is being in a strange house and being woke up by Mom and the man who later became my stepfather. He had been my Father's friend. My Father had confided in him and told him of his plan to take his kids from his wife. But, knowing what my Father had done with his children, he had decided to help my Mother get us back to her. He was a strong young round faced man. My first impression was that he reminded me of Santa. He was happy, joyful, friendly and loving. When he laughed it made you laugh, when he smiled he lit up a room. My first feeling of my stepfather, I will from this point on in this blog, call Dad, was that of thankfulness. He became the Father figure in my life. He grew to love us as his, and I am now and forever thankful for the love he has given to us and the light and lessons he has brought to my life.