Way back when (I was 11), our mom abandoned myself and my four siblings.  When she phoned the evening she left, she told us that my dad’s brother could have Dad’s kids, because that’s all he wanted from her anyway. 

Turns out, he only wanted my three brothers.  And he lived in Missouri, a LONG ways away from wherever I was.  And a cousin of Dad’s wanted our older sister.

None of them wanted me.  I had four choices of homes to go to, at that time.  One happened to be a sister of my dad’s.  She and her husband had one child of their own and one adopted daughter.  We always knew Sheila was adopted – I don’t know why, but I always remember knowing it.  Perhaps because it was so foreign to us.  I know my Grandma raised my uncle’s oldest daughter, but since she had the same last name as Grandma, no one ever questioned whether Grandma adopted her or not.  Sheila was a couple years older than me, born the same year as my sister. 

As kids, we spent a LOT of time with family.  On the weekends, our family would usually converge upon one of our Grandma’s houses and have a weekend of food and (for the adults) drinking.  Sometimes we’d go to an aunt or uncle’s house, sometimes to a cousin’s house….but, when one parent has 11 siblings and one has 12 – you can bet there were a lot of choices to choose from and a lot of places for us kids to go play with our cousins.  My Grandma Spencer was my dad’s mom.  We went to her house more than my mom’s parent’s house because she lived closer and most of their families lived closeby, too.  I still can hear Grandma Spencer holler out the door to the men-folk and tell them how many chickens to kill for dinner, after she’d see how many of us showed up on Saturdays or Sundays.  🙂

So, I knew and remembered Sheila most of my life.  I also recognized, as we got older, that she was a bit standoffish.  I didn’t know why – in those days, I’d hear the words from older female cousins or my sister such as stuck up, snake, etc.  She wasn’t bossy like my sister and she wasn’t prissy like some of our cousins – but, I was younger and hence, I wasn’t one of Sheila’s picks to play with back then.  She’d stick pretty close to her older brother or her dad when we’d get together – she was more of a tomboy than I was and she liked doing all those guy things like messing with cars and motorcycles.

One of the choices I was given when Mom left was to go to Sheila’s folks’ house.  As the choice was given to me, a disclaimer was also given (probably by my sister) that Sheila was 16 and very pregnant with my aunt & uncle’s foster son’s child.  I had no clue how pregnancy occurred when I was 11; but, by the way it was said to me (the tone, the inflection, etc.), it didn’t sound like I wanted to be subjected to that type of lifestyle.  I chose not to live there.

As the years and foster homes came and went, I finally ended up in Nebraska with my mom’s brother and his family.  It was the best place for me to be and I’ll forever be grateful to my aunt & uncle for taking me in.

A couple of times during my life in Nebraska, I went back to Iowa.  Once when my Grandma Spencer passed away, once when I went on a trip with my old church youth group and once when Grandma Spencer’s oldest daughter passed away.  My aunt and uncle in Nebraska were very leery of my relationships with my dad’s family (and rightly so), so I’d stay with my mom’s parents and then go to whatever Spencer event was necessary – only staying for a day or two and then returning home or returning to my Grandparent’s home.  But, if I had to travel to the town I was born in, I always was welcome at Sheila’s folks’ house.  And I will not deny that they were good to me.  When I was living in my third foster home (around age 13 & 14), I’d walk beans with my aunt’s crew – earning a little spending money during the summers.  They even took me on vacation to Missouri with them, so I could see my brothers.  When I’d visit, I always had a sofa to sleep on and food in my belly.  And I’d always see Sheila – except, by that time, she was an old (hehe) married woman, taking care of her kids and husband and working.  I still was very naive and didn’t really “get” that lifestyle at her age – knowing full well she was only a few years older than I was.  She’d come by while I visited and was always nice to me.  We’d have a few laughs.  But, she’d usually end up in an argument with her mom (especially if her dad wasn’t around) and leave in a huff. 

Many years later, we had an issue with my (prison) brother and Sheila’s mom said some very hurtful things about my best friend and older brother Mike (now deceased).  Pain ripped through me when he told me what she’d said.  I couldn’t believe that an aunt who had treated me so well throughout my childhood would say things that not only weren’t true – but, were just downright mean.  In the ensuing years, I’ve probably said a total of one sentence to her – at a cousin’s funeral – and haven’t had contact since then.  I’m sure she came to Mike’s funeral, but I was too tore up with grief (and had my husband, 2 year-old daughter and another baby on the way with me) and I couldn’t tell you if she said anything to me or not.  I hardly remember who was there, except I know my aunt & uncle from Nebraska drove to Missouri to make sure I had their loving support (which supports my statement that living with them was in my best interest).

Then came Facebook.  About a year ago, I received a friend request from Sheila.  I was hesitant to approve it, to say the least.  I didn’t know her very well and I didn’t know how her relationship with her mother was.  I knew I was NOT going to allow someone who would purposefully hurt others into my life…whether we’re related or not.  So, I sent an email to my cuz and told her how I felt – what her mother had done to our family and that I would friend her IF she would leave my private life between us and not share it with her mother.  To my surprise and delight, she responded in the affirmative!  She had issues with her mom, too, and I need not worry that she’d say anything to my aunt about me. 

And I trusted her word.  And I’m glad I did!

We’ve since grown closer in our relationship.  We’re very much alike, actually – except I’m definitely not an outdoor person like she is (because of my skin allergies) and I could care less about cars and motorcycles.  But, our hearts are in the same place and I totally get her now.  She was left out of the family loop – because she was adopted.  I had no idea my sister and cousins treated her so awful!  After being a foster child for so long, I certainly know what it feels like to be “different” within your own family (or the family you live with).

So, now that I’ve written a big long story – I have to write the best part.  Sheila promised her dad MANY years ago, when she quit school to be a wife and mom, that she’d get her GED.  With tears in my eyes, I am so excited to say SHE DID IT!  She made good on her promise and she is receiving her diploma!  I haven’t seen her in 20+ years, but I can tell you that I am so darned proud of her, it just makes my heart sing.  She didn’t do it just for her dad, she did it for HER.  And if anyone deserved an attaboygirl and a party, my cuz Sheila does!

Love you, cuz.  Wish I could come and enjoy your celebration with you!  Just know that my heart is smiling big-time and I’ll be there with you in spirit.  XOXO

It happens every year.  The kids go to their Sacred Arts classes all school-year-long at church and perform once a month, but there’s always an end to the season – and yesterday happened to be their last performance of the year.  The kids did a small dance with their hands, and then danced with streamers.  Colorful, engaging and so “from the heart”! 

We’re stranded.  Luckily, we are high on a hill and safe from the rising and receeding waters.  But, we can’t go anywhere.  There are bridges everywhere between us and town, and none of them are safely passable.  We’re ok to be stuck at home – it’s a dream at times!  We have milk, bread, soda (for me) and coffee.  School was cancelled and the kids and hubby went down to the highway to take pix of the river, creeks and bridges — and dead fish in the road (I’ll spare you those pix), trees across the highway and the wild ways of the fast-moving waters.