Working on My Worthiness

I went to church yesterday. I haven't been going the past couple of years because our previous ward... Well, we were never going to be accepted there. There's a bubble here in Utah that makes living in this state quite unique. Your church is one place where you should always be accepted, but here renters like myself are often seen as transients and therefore not anyone the church needs to reach out to. Except the opposite is usually true. Renters are often in the most need of support.

Some people may like apartment life, but I'm not one of those people. I hate the lack of privacy, of feeling like I'm suffocating by the other tenants living on top of me. I hate not having my own yard. And I hate not being able to have a dog. My daughter's companion animal, Echo, is just not the same. But dogs do not belong in little apartments where they don't have there own yard to run and play in.

But after my experience with my last ward and the fact that I'm still a renter, I was more than a little reluctant to visit my current ward. I've basically been in this apartment for two years without going to church. Yet I'm very thankful for the missionaries who came to the door a month or so ago. Not anyone could have knocked on that front door and convinced me to visit my own church.

I was overwhelmed the first visit. I only stayed for sacrament. Then I had to get out of there for fear I would say something extremely inappropriate. I didn't go again the next Sunday. But when I did go again it was different. Again I only stayed for sacrament then walked home relieved that meeting felt better than the first. I meant to go the Sunday before last, but my right ankle is giving me trouble. An old injury where I strained it years ago has been acting up and I had to call off work the Friday before that Sunday. I contemplated driving over to the church, but it felt silly to drive a block away.

But yesterday I drove that block over. I stayed through sacrament, went to class after sacrament and even went to Relief Society. Relief Society is usually the one class I have felt the most uncomfortable with. But I wasn't half as uncomfortable as I expected. I actually enjoyed myself. But I miss the two elders that convinced me to come back to church, especially Elder Hernandez. There are still elders there but I guess you could say I don't feel like they're mine.

My daughter didn't go with me. But I've got to let her make her own spiritual journey. I can't take it for her. Plus, I've still got a long way to go with my own journey in this area. I still don't feel worthy to take the sacrament and I don't know how long it will be before I do again.

Starving, But Not For Food

My busy mind woke me up before I was truly rested and ready to get up, a common occurrence for me. And I laid there trying to will myself back to sleep so I'll be properly rested for work tonight. Except my busy mind didn't let me. Instead it went to analyzing me, my life, my current health issues and what can I do to make things better. But before you can make things better you need to know exactly what is causing the issues.

I don't appear to have a virus or cold. Although I am almost constantly stuffy from my daughter's cat. But my chronic diarrhea, chronic fatigue, depression, sadness, exhaustion, lightheadedness and dizziness must be caused by something. I know I'm lonely. The only family I have here is my daughter. And while she loves me unconditionally, she's not a companion. I look after her.

It is a fact that human beings need love. Love is a human need. It's why we seek out companionship. But when infants are not love loved, they fail to thrive and often die. Same with the very elderly, without love their health fails faster and they die.

So what happens to an adult who is starving in this fashion?

I think I'm starving. Not for food, but for love. I think I'm suffering from love deprivation. I've been alone for a long time. Not by choice, but because I have been unable to find a companion to spend my life with. And I've looked and searched, but problems I have no control over get in the way.

I am interracial and I currently live in a state where the predominant religion frowns on interracial relationships. Except I have no choice in this area. Being an interracial person means all my relationships are interracial. And men are less likely to step outside of the box in this area than women. As a woman, I can honestly say I am more likely to follow my heart and be less logical in this area.

But my interracialness isn't the only problem. Our media paints a very narrow view of what is a lovable woman and very little of it is based on intelligence and personality. It pretty much centers on physical attributes, long legs, fair skin, light eyes, skinny, none of which are me. No check mark on any of those for me.

And I certainly can't control what someone else's family finds acceptable. Mother's usually hate me. I am almost never good enough for their baby boy. There's nothing like watching someone you love and you know loves you marry someone else because his family will not accept you because you are part black, or part white or part Native. Then there are his own preconceived notions of what his wife should look like getting in the way. Notions that were shaped by his family, his friends and our beloved media.

He had it in his head that his wife must be a natural blond. It didn't help that his mother wouldn't allow that little nigger girl in the house. He didn't let that stop him from seeing me at first. But your family, especially your mother is a strong influence on you. So eventually he pulled away from me and married a natural blond that his mother approved of. Last time I saw him they had been married for several years and had like four kids, but he was not happy. He looked at his natural blond wife with disgust. He looked at me with anger, as if it was all my fault he was unhappy because I wasn't at least a white girl his mother would accept and for not being that natural blond he had set in his mind as that's what he had to marry.

I understand why some women stay in abusive relationships. Because between the beatings and yelling there are moments where he is loving. And they live for those moments when he is loving. I can't live like that, but some women manage with it even though no one should have to go through that.

So when I look in the mirror I see a woman the woman the world insist is unlovable. Unlovable for reasons that I cannot change and wouldn't change if I could. I am kind and I am caring. I am down to earth and I am not flippant, nor flamboyant. I'm not shallow nor selfish. I am slow to anger and quick to forgive. And what's wrong with being petite and curvy?

But the fact remains that I am alone and suffering from love deprivation. Will it kill me??? Perhaps... There are days when I am just tired of suffering and I am overwhelmed by all the burdens I carry alone and frustrated to be stuck in a world that keeps punishing me for being me.

Just Want to Chill at Home

I called off work last Friday because my right ankle hurt so bad I could barely walk. I could barely get from the daybed to the half-bath and the daybed is only a couple of steps away from the half-bath. I hated to call off. One I hated not being there to do my job. Two I really can't afford to miss a day of work like that.

Now it's Monday and I'll need to go into work tonight ready or not. The ankle is feeling better but it's still hurting. I think I may have re-injured it at work. I hurt on top of just being flat out exhausted. I slept nearly the entire weekend except for getting up long enough to eat, relieve myself and play a little Farmville 2.

I have farmer fantasies where I look outside and can't see my neighbors, breath fresh air instead of car exhaust and factory smog, where my home is my own and I have painted the walls colors I like and don't have to wait for the landlord to feel like fixing something.

But my daughter came up from her room and made breakfast this morning. She has no idea how much I appreciate something like that. I know she hates to do dishes, but it's one less thing for me to stress about when she does. Taking care of those little household chores for me without being asked lifts so much weight from my shoulders. I really hate to have to nag to get her to do something. And I hate it even more when it gets to the point I'm ready to get rid of her cat because that would be one less thing I would have to worry about taking care of.

She's pretty good about looking after Echo herself on some things. She remembers to feed him, she plays with him and has gotten better at keeping him brushed. But sometimes I have to yell about the litter box getting too full. It's in the half-bath which I uses everyday so I look at his litter box everyday. I know immediately when it needs attention. And it irritates me greatly to have to remind her to come clean it.

I have enough to worry about with just trying to keep us from being homeless. I don't want to come home beat all to hell from work and then have to look at a dirty cat-box while I'm relieving myself and nag to get a few dishes done or the trash taken out. I just want to come home and chill.

It would be nice to be able to go to a doctor because on top of the right ankle hurting to the point I'm limping, trying not to limp, or not walking on it at all because it hurts too bad, I've also been sick with chronic diarrhea, bouts of nausea, vomiting, lightheadedness and dizziness. But I don't have any health coverage so I just get to endure until either whatever is wrong with me fixes itself or kills me.

In the mean time I just want to come home and chill while we still have a home.

Conspiracy Theory

I saw today where the FDA approved Oxycontin for children as young as eleven years old. Oxycontin is a powerful addictive Opioid like Morphine. Morphine is so dangerously addictive it is often only used to ease pain for those who are terminally ill. And they approved giving something like that to children. WTF?

They know that adults often become addicted to these prescription narcotics and that it can lead them to heroin abuse. But now they're not going to wait till we're adults to turn us into drug addicts. They're going to get us hooked while we're children.

During lunch last night at work there was some talk of conspiracy theories. This year's upcoming presidential election has us all scared. And as the only woman at the table I was mostly quiet, mostly taking in what the guys were talking about. A secret government. Billions of dollars and gold just missing. That 9/11 was no accident nor a terrorist attack. But I have my own conspiracy theory.

I believe there are multiple exclusive factions vying for control of the world. These factions are made up of small groups of obscenely rich and powerful elites. And each faction is trying to take over the world in a different way.

The oldest way, religion. Some people are sheeple and need someone to lead them around by the nose. They need religion to tell them how to be good little boys and girls and don't know how to be good honest human beings without it. And I find it just sad and pathetic that you need to be threatened with hell fire just to be a decent human being. But that doesn't work with everyone. Some people reject all religion because it just doesn't make any logical sense to them.

Money is the root of all evil. Money is just another form of slavery. People have allowed themselves to be enslaved to this imaginary thing. And even those of us who see clearly that it's imaginary, are slave to it because you can't do a damn thing in our world without it unless you live totally off the grid and make and grow everything you need yourself. And not many of us can live like that anymore. We simply don't have the survival skills for it. Many millennials can't even fry an egg or sew a button back on. But there are people that reject it and live off the grid while others of us are looking for ways to eliminate it because it's not real any damn way.

The war on drugs. What a crock of shite. Marijuana with all the good it can do is still illegal. Still classified as a schedule 1 drug like Heroin and LSD even though it's not addictive. It can actually be used to help people recover from Heroin addiction along with many other uses. But you could grow it easily in your own back yard. They don't want that. They can't control that. But if they get you hooked on their prescription drugs, that gives them a lot of control over you. So they're looking for the best drug to get us addicted to and trying to figure out just how young we have to be to start using it in order to control us fully and keep us slaves.

Then there's trying to find a way to engineer a group of subhumans that will happily work their asses off for a little praise and a cookie. Plus, they know they're destroying the environment and these subhumans could also serve as cattle. Where did I pull that one from? Zika virus. They are trying to create people who can work their asses off but aren't smart enough to see they're just slaves and will just accept orders without question.

First faction to master their particular form of slavery wins control of the world!

Religion and money are the two oldest. Those two factions just need to give it up. You simply can't control everybody with either of those nor by combining them. Drug addiction will never work completely either because there will always be those who are drug resistant naturally while others will develop a tolerance to the drugs that will make them useless.

The last one though does have me worried. Because they have already done an excellent job of dumbing us down. Too dependent upon electronics, microwave meals and no real survival skills. Lots of children are being born with autism and now suddenly we have to worry about these babies born with the zika virus. They may finally succeed with this one because most of us have no desire to go live off the grid. We trust that the water coming into our homes is safe to drink. We're constantly breathing pollution. We're too lazy to hold onto a piece of trash until we find a garbage can. ADD, ADHD, Tourettes Syndrome, OCD and mental illnesses such as racism keep us from paying attention to the world around us properly. I think we're screwed.

I got off of work about six am and it's going on three pm. I need to get some sleep. But I often suffer from insomnia. As you see above I have a very busy mind. And I believe giving strong narcotics like Oxycontin to children is just wrong. And if a doctor prescribes such a thing for your child, you need to find a new doctor for your family.

What's In A Name?

For the first fifteen years of my life my maternal grandmother (my mom's mom) refused to call me by my first name, Renetta. She called me by a nickname that had nothing to do with my first name and there are still some very old friends and a few family members left on my mother's side that still call me by that nickname.

Renetta... I like my first name. I have never wanted to be one of the more common names people often name their children. Look at my picture. Do I look like a Susan?

Now my last name, I wanted to change my last name. I have heard just about every Corn-y joke there is. I wished it was more identifiable as Native. I wished I had gotten a cool Native last name like Eaglefeather or Flyingeagle. I spent most of my sixth grade year putting another word down as my last name on my papers because I was tired of my corny last name and all the dull corny jokes.

But I finally accepted it. Or rather I've accepted that I'm stuck with it because my father has never claimed me. And since I don't ever expect to marry, it seems I am stuck with it for eternity.

Renetta... I never wanted a new first name. I've always been comfortable with my first name. It is often mispronounced by people who have never heard it before. But that doesn't bother me. I know it's not a common name. But it's not a new name either.

But I was hurt that my maternal grandmother wouldn't call me by it. Her reason? She believed it was a nigger name.

My maternal grandmother was raised to think of herself as white even though that's not true. Her father was German, but her mother was Native. Except we don't know what tribe she was from. It was not discussed. He taught my grandmother and her siblings that he was white so they were white and what there mother was didn't matter.

I was one of those nosy kids who had to know everything. I never just accepted things. I always questioned them. I know it was something that the adults on my mother's side of the family found annoying or at least the ones that would allow me to be around. Because most of my mother's side of the family wouldn't have anything to do with me and my brother. They called us Sheila's Nigger Kids. And no they didn't wait for us to be out of the room. They didn't hesitate to say exactly how they felt about us right in front of us because in their eyes we weren't entirely human so our feelings weren't real and didn't matter.

I'm sure it isn't hard to imagine what this did to my self esteem. I valued myself very little when I was young. For a long time I was desperate for someone to love me despite the fact I didn't deserve to be loved because I was interracial. My father is African and Native American. But in the world I was being raised in that African part made me worthless. Sometimes those feelings of worthlessness still haunt me.

As a result I got pregnant young, very young. I'm not quite a whole sixteen years older than my son. I turned sixteen a month after he was born. I never once considered having an abortion, but my mother would have taken me for one if I had said that's what I wanted. And I didn't consider adoption an option either. I had no guarantee that someone would love my not so white baby as much as I would. Plus, I needed him.

I had finally found purpose in my life. I had a reason to live. I had someone to live for because I had trouble living for myself. I may not have loved myself properly, but I loved this baby I was having. I was going to do everything within my power to do my best to be the best mother I could possibly be for that baby. But that baby needed a name.

I knew from my experience with my own name that names are very important. I spent hours pouring through baby name books because I didn't know the sex of my unborn child. I needed a name for a girl in case I had a girl and a name for a boy in case I had a boy. And while going through the girl names I found my own name. There in black print on the off-white paper was my name. And according to the info provided for it, it was a German name.

I was happy and pleased to share with my maternal grandmother that it was okay to call me by my name because "Look Grandma. See??? It's not a nigger name at all. Renetta is a German name." My grandmother never called me by her nickname for me again.

I remember the look on her face when I shared happy and excited that my name wasn't bad like she thought. I know she realized at that moment that she had hurt me. And I know she never meant to hurt me. I know she loved me. But she wasn't the kind of woman to admit she had made that kind of mistake and had been wrong. So she said instead, that I had become a woman. I was having children of my own. And I was too grown up for that baby nickname.

I have learned more about my name since then. And while never a popular name it has been used widely across Europe. Its root is Latin and means "reborn." Yet the question, "What's in a name?" is one that haunts me.

I know that if my grandmother believed what she did about my first name that she's not the only one. And your name affects your whole life. People have perceptions about certain names. People expect anyone named Marilyn will be a beautiful blond woman. Certain names can make it easier to get a job. Make is more likely you'll get a job interview.

I wonder how many times I have been dismissed and didn't even get an interview because of my name and the perception someone has of it. I wonder how many times my resume was tossed aside because my name was at the top. I wonder how many negative thoughts ran through someone's head about me when they heard my name for the first time.

I've had people state shocked after getting to know me "wow, you're a hard worker." All I can think is, why wouldn't I be a hard worker?

I don't know exactly what's happening in other people's heads except that I am getting judged without the opportunity to prove myself, without attempting to get to know me. And I know I'm not the only one this is happening to. So if you're someone who thinks negative thoughts when you see or hear a rare or unusual name, you have something you need to work on. Because you just might be passing on someone who would be the best, best friend you ever had, would make an excellent employee, or who might be the love of your life and you're throwing away your one chance at Happily Ever After. And why? Because their name sounds funny or strange to you. Sounds really immature to me.

But hey, what do I know? I'm just Renetta. ;)

Omnie-poe-tent

One of the best things about being a parent are the things my children say. My daughter always knows when she's either said something incorrectly or inserted the wrong yet similar sounding word by the giggle fit I burst into when she's trying to have a serious philosophical discussion with me.

It is my opinion that if she ever gets to attend a college that she should study philosophy since things of that nature are her favorite topic.

Last night my giggle fit was while she was attempting to have a serious philosophical discussion with me about God and whether or not there exist a truly omnipotent being out there somewhere. She mispronounced the word omnipotent and instead said omnie-poe-tent which sent me into a giggle fit. She immediately recognized that she had pronounced it wrong and tried to salvage the conversation and put me back on track by telling me I knew what she was trying to say.

Yes I knew what she was trying to say, but she had lost me to my hilarious thoughts and I had to inform her that her omnie-poe-tent being had created an image of an impotent being inside my head that had me giggling. At that point she realized she had lost me because then I reminded her of the time my mother had a vasectomy.

My mother actually had a double mastectomy a few years ago. And while sharing this with some associates visiting us at home Cherokee accidentally used the word vasectomy instead. That one had me declaring we were going to be rich along with my giggle fit because my mother was the first woman to under go a vasectomy.

I thoroughly enjoy being a parent. I look forward to things my two special needs children will say. Occasional one of them will actually say something very profound. I am totally at a loss when people tell me they're sorry that my two children are both special people because I'm not sorry. I'm blessed. My two children are beautiful human beings who are accepting, tolerant and without the petty prejudices many people have.

Even my son realizes the men running around in white hoods are just "stupid."

And as I continue to enjoy being the mother of my two very special individuals, I'm still waiting for our generous wind fall from my mother being the first woman to have a vasectomy. Perhaps that omnie-poe-tent being will cut us a check. :D

Nan

“Come on, guys,” called Nan as she hurriedly pull her black wavy hair back into a ponytail. “We’re running late. I’ve got to get you guys to school.”

“Coming Nanny,” called Coral as her book-bag bounced on her back as she ran out of the house to the crew-cab. Nan quickly checked Coral’s pigtails before she lifted her to the back seats and secures her in her safety seat.

“Rob,” shouted Nan. “Rob!!!”

The teenager trudged out of the house yawning. Nan could tell he’d run his fingers through his jet black died hair but not actually combed it. But she didn’t have time to fuss at him about it.

“What’s with you this morning,” asked Nan as she pulled her petite-self up into the front of the crew-cab with Rob. She looks down frustrated because she can’t reach the pedals. The driver’s seat isn’t in the position she left it in. “What the hell,” she said frustrated.

“What’s wrong Nanny,” asked Coral from the back seat.

“My seat’s pushed too far back,” she explained as she readjusted the seat. “I guess your parents needed something and pushed it back before they left for the airport… There. That’s better.”

She pushed the start button. The engine made an attempt to turn over. The sick woo-woo sound it made caused Nan to slump in her seat. She looked up at the sky and asked, “Why me, Lord? Why me?”

“What’s wrong now Nanny,” asked Coral concerned.

Nan checked the gages in front of her. “Dead,” she said in disbelief. “How can it be dead? It still had more than half a charge when I came in last night. I shouldn’t have needed to plug it in to charge again until tonight.”

“Maybe you read it wrong,” suggested Rob hunching down in his seat.

Nan took a deep breath and blew it out. “Looks like we’re walking.”

“Why,” asks Rob. “Why can’t we just stay home? And isn’t it like a ten mile walk?”

“It’s not ten miles,” responded Nan as she got Coral from the back seat. “It’s not even five. I can walk ten miles in about an hour. I’ll call your schools and let them know your each going to be about a half hour late, but we’re on our way. I’m going to miss my class. After you’re both safely at school I’ll just stop at the farm on my way back to the house and take care of the errands I promised your father I’ld do after my class. Then I’ll call Charlie’s to come get the truck. They’re not open yet.”

Nan held Coral’s hand as they walked. Rob lagged behind them several paces.

“I hate this old bridge,” complained Nan as they walked across it.

“Why,” asked Coral.

“It’s too narrow and there’s no side walk for pedestrians,” answered Nan. “It’s way overdue for being replaced.”

“Why haven’t they replaced it,” asked Coral.

Nan shrugs, “They’re having trouble deciding the best time of year to work on it. Plus, while it’s out creates a long drive the long way around to get to town. They’ll get to it eventually.”

“Nanny,” Coral informs her, “Darla Dumas said you’re a dirty, mixed, nagger hoe. But I told her you’re not dirty. You take a shower every day. Rob always tries to peek at you while you’re showering.”

Nan looked back at Rob and gave him a sour look. Rob didn’t try to deny it. It was best not to tell a lie anywhere near Nan. Nan seemed to have a built in lie detector. It was best to keep your mouth shut. So he looked away like he didn’t hear his little sister tell on him.

Nan told Coral, “Don’t pay any attention to Darla or any of the other Dumas’s when they’re saying mean ugly things about people.” She’s sure the word Darla used wasn’t nagger. But Coral having never heard the ugly word before didn’t hear it correctly. “Besides, Darla doesn’t really know what she’s talking about. She’s just repeating the bad things she’s heard the grown-ups in her family say.” Then Nan muttered angrily to herself, “They’re not called Dumbasses for nothing.”

Rob caught Nan’s muttering and smiled amused. Nan tried to be kind and understanding to everyone. He knew she wasn’t mad at little Darla. She was just a seven year old like Coral. He knew Nan was irritated with the adults little Darla was stuck with as parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles. Most towns had a town drunk. But the Dumas’s were their town’s drunks. They made their own moonshine because they were usually too broke to buy beer. Occasionally someone would give one of them a chance and hire one. But then have to fire them because they either showed up to work drunk, didn’t show up to work at all because they had gotten drunk or stole something from work or from someone else at work.

“Mrs. Carter, it’s Nan. Our truck is dead so I’m walking the children to school. I’m so sorry we’re running late. Do you need me to walk Rob all the way into the office… No… Thank you because I need to walk Coral all the way to her school. We’re at the end of the road now. Rob should be there in about five to ten minutes… Thank you, Mrs. Carter.”

Nan reaches out and slaps Rob in the back of his head as he walks past her and Coral. She can see the high school from where they’re standing.

“Ow,” exclaimed Rob as he grabbed his head. “What was that for?”

“For peeping at my while I’m showing.”

“But I’ve never managed to see anything,” responded Rob feeling like he didn’t deserve the slap because he never managed to get a good look at her goodies.

“And what would your uncle Harper do if he caught you trying to peek at me in the shower,” asked Nan.

“Rip my head off and pound me into non-existence,” answered Rob.

“Don’t do it anymore,” ordered Nan.

“I won’t,” answered Rob in a defeated tone. Then he headed for his high school.

Coral asked Nan, “Should I tell Uncle Harper Rob peaks at you in the shower?”

Nan shook her head, “As long as he doesn’t do it again no. If you see him doing again, then tell your Uncle Harper.”

About ten minutes later, Nan walked Coral into the office of the elementary school and announced, “Here we are. So sorry we’re late.”

The office attendant quickly checked Coral in, “Alright, all checked in Coral. You can go to class.”

Nan kissed Coral’s cheek. “Have a good day sweetie. See you after school.”

“Love you, Nan,” called Coral.

“Love you too, sweetheart,” called back Nan.

“Ruff morning Nan,” inquired the office attendant concerned.

Nan nodded, “My truck is dead. It didn’t hold its charge overnight. I’m missing my class at the university. I could try to catch the last ten to fifteen minutes of it but what would be the point in that. Rob’s being a brat because he thinks we should have all gone to the Science and Technology Conference together. He doesn’t get that just because it’s in a fancy hotel doesn’t mean there’s going to be time for fun. His parents and Harper will be stuck in conferences for the next two days. And some of it will be interesting, but a lot of it will be boring as hell.”

“Isn’t Mrs. Collins an attorney,” asked the attendant.

“Yes,” confirmed Nan. “Some kind of Amendment review coincides with the conference so she was able to travel with her husband and after they’ve both spent a boring day listening to law and science lectures, they’ll get to meet up for dinner and spend the night together. Harper will feel like he’s crashing their couple’s time at dinner, call me and give me all the boring details.”

“And your big day with Harper is coming up soon, right,” asked the attendant excited for Nan.

Nan smiled happily, “Yes, in two more months I will officially be Mrs. Harper Collins. Oh, and someone needs to go check on Darla Dumas at her home. She told Coral I’m a ‘dirty, mixed, nagger hoe.’ I’m afraid her father’s on a drunken bender again. I don’t know why when her mother left Daryl she didn’t take Darla with her.”

“Nagger hoe,” questioned the attendant.

“I don’t think the word Darla used was nagger, but that’s what Coral heard,” shares Nan.

“I’ll call family services and have someone check on them,” agrees the attendant. She knew just as well as Nan that when Darla began saying nasty things to other children things weren’t right at home.

Nan walked to the university farm to check on things like she promised her future brother-in-law. There were several different growing experiments taking place on the farm. The Amish and Mennonites that worked on the farm for extra money kept their distance from her at first. But now they smile and wave. After taking care of morning chores on their own farms, they come to the university farm to help out and earn extra cash for their families.

Nan grabbed a digital pad that Professor Collins left for her from the farm’s small front office and started to go through the items. She pulled out her phone.

“Cheryl? ... Cheryl, it’s Nan… I survived the morning. But my truck is dead. I had to walk the kids to school. Rob acted like he was dying the whole way. Could you send someone for my truck? … Thank you, Cheryl. I’ll be waiting to hear back from you… Yes, talk to you later.”

Nan continued to check the items on the list for her future brother-in-law. About half way through the list she saw something strange out of the corner of her eye.

“Are you alright Nandellei,” asked an Amish farmer concerned. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I feel like I just saw one,” responded Nan as she stared at the tiny house that sat in the middle of the farm. “No, one’s in the house, right Mr. Engle?”

“Nope,” answered Mr. Engle. “No one’s gone in for anything that I’ve seen. But a couple of the fellas think it’s haunted. One says he saw a woman. Another says he saw a man. I think it was just a trick of the light.”

Nan nodded agreeingly, “You’re right. I’ve just had a stressful morning and my eyes are playing tricks on me.”

“Where’s your truck, Nandellei,” asked Mr. Engle concerned.

Nan took a deep breath. “It didn’t hold its charge last night and was dead this morning. I had to walk the kids to school. Rob trudged the whole way like it was killing him. And we had to walk over that spooky old bridge. I’ll be glad when they replace that old thing. I always get a chill when I cross it.”

“But you made it here,” points out Mr. Engle.

Nan smiled at him, “Yes, thank goodness I did. I just hope whatever is wrong with my truck isn’t serious. Serious always equals expensive.”

“Aye-ya,” agreed Mr. Engle, “that’s always true.”

Nan got back to work. That strange trick of the light happened again. She stopped in the tiny house which mostly held supplies but was also set up for someone to stay in as an example of how little space a person actually needed. She got a chill.

“Nan,” said an old man’s voice.

Nan turned in the direction of the voice and saw Harper’s deceased father standing there. She opened her mouth to scream but he disappeared. Nan had helped care for him the last year of his life. She knew he was very dead.

“Nan, get a grip,” she told herself. “It’s a hot bath, chocolate ice cream and pajamas for you tonight. If my truck isn’t running in the morning, we’re not going anywhere.”

On her walk home, Nan came across the Wells’ boy, Tommy. The chubby ten year old was crying and covered in mud. Nan rushed to him and asked wide eyed, “Tommy, what happened?”

“I was walking to school and some older boys beat me up and shoved me into a mud puddle. Slapped mud on top of my head and threw mud balls at me. Called me names and stuff. Said I was soft like a girl. I finally got away and managed to hide from them. I guess they finally went to school.”

“Is your mother home,” asked Nan.

Tommy nodded, “She should be.”

“Come on I’ll walk you home.” Nan tried his home number but there was no answer. She hoped his mother had only stepped out briefly. She’ld take him home with her if she had to. But they would come to the little dirt road that led to his house before they came to her home.

They pause at the old bridge. Tommy told her, “I don’t like this bridge.”

“Me neither,” confessed Nan. “But we have to cross it to get home.”

About half way across the bridge, Nan heard a car coming. The curve and the trees kept her from seeing it right away. “Get behind me Tommy. A car is coming.”

Tommy let Nan guide him behind her. Then the rusty old El Camino came into view. Nan recognized everyone in it: Dale, Clyde and Daryl Dumas.

“Ten points,” she heard Dale yell to Clyde behind the steering wheel. Then the car sped up and swerved toward her and Tommy. Nan threw Tommy out of the way.

Nan found herself staring down at the old El Camino that seemed to be standing on its front end in the river. Water up to where the bottom of the windshield used to be. But the windshield is gone. The tail end of the vehicle is leaning on the bridge keeping it from falling down. The steering wheel is keeping Clyde’s head above water.

Nan rushed to Tommy in the center of the bridge where she tossed him. “Are you alright Tommy?”

Tommy nodded as he stood up, “Yeah, I think so. Are you alright Nan?”

“I don’t know how,” answered Nan, “But I’m fine. I was sure they were coming right at me.” She pulls out her mobile phone, “Better get some help,” and calls nine-one-one.

Nan answered all the dispatcher’s questions and soon heard sirens approaching. Tommy pointed and said, “Look.”

Nan looked and saw Daryl Dumas’s body floating face down, down the river. She hugged Tommy as she said softly, “Sweet Jesus have mercy.”

Soon there was an ambulance and police cruisers. Nan was answering questions as an EMT gave Tommy the once over. Tommy told the sheriff, “A body floated down the river.”

The sheriff looked at Nan who nodded and informed him, “It was Daryl Dumas.”

The sheriff shook his head sadly. He called to his deputy, “Mike, get a tow truck here ASAP. We need to get this heap out of the river. Once we have it out of the river we can see if Dale and Clyde are still alive.”

Nan informed the sheriff, “I think they were trying to run us over. One of them shouted, ‘ten points.’ Then the vehicle sped up and came straight at us. I tossed Tommy out of the way. But I was right here and I didn’t have time to get out of the way. I was sure it was going to hit me. I don’t know how they missed me. But then I was looking down at their vehicle sticking out of the river like you see it.”

The sheriff called to a couple of officers, “I need one of ya’ to walk down each side of the river a ways. See if you can spot Daryl’s body. Hopefully it’s gotten caught up on something and not gotten far.”

Each officer started down each side of the river. One stopped not very far away from where the sheriff was talking with Tommy and Nan. He called, “Sheriff?”

“What is it,” asked the sheriff.

“I found someone,” answered the officer.

“Daryl,” questioned the sheriff not expecting it to be Daryl.

“No,” answered the officer.

“What,” asked the sheriff, “Don’t tell me you found some random body.”

“Not exactly,” responded the officer.

“Is it recognizable,” asked the sheriff.

“Yes,” answered the officer.

“Do you know who it is,” asked the sheriff.

“Yes,” answered the officer, “but you’re not going to believe it.”

“Well who is it,” asked the sheriff.

The officer looked spooked as he answered, “It’s Nan.”

“What,” Nan and the sheriff both asked in disbelief.

The sheriff headed to take a look at what couldn’t possibly be Nan because he was talking to her. Nan told Tommy to stay with the EMTs and followed the sheriff.

The sheriff stood there with his mouth agape as he stared at Nan’s body. The Dumas brothers hadn’t missed her. They hit her straight on and sent her body flying across the river where it landed here on the other side amongst some trees and bushes.

Nan shook her head in disbelief as she looked at her own body. “No,” she said as she stared at her lifeless body. She began to cry, “No. This can’t be happening. Harper and I are getting married. No.” Then she disappeared right before their eyes.

The years passed quickly. Tommy Wells became a man, married and had a family of his own. His son TJ told him, “But she’s a ghost. Right Dad?”

Tommy tried to think how to explain, “I don’t think she’s a ghost the way most people think of. She saved my life. And now she watches over the bridge here to make sure children make it safely across it. She’s a good person that still tries to help others when she can.”

“Why didn’t you tell mom the lady she saw was a ghost,” asked TJ.

“Your mother doesn’t believe in such things,” answered Tommy. “And not everyone can handle meeting Nan.”

“Is that you, Tommy Wells,” asked Nan.

Tommy smiled at her, “Yes, Nan. It’s me.” She looked just the same as the day she died. Same clothes and everything. “And this is my boy, TJ.”

Nan smiled at TJ, “It’s good to meet you TJ.”

“You don’t look dead,” stated TJ.

Nan shrugged, “But I died.”

“Can I touch you,” asked TJ.

“Sure,” answered Nan.

TJ touched her hand. “You’re warm like you’re alive.”

Nan sighs, “I feel like I’m still alive. But I know I’m not.”

“What happened,” asked TJ. “Why are you here? Why didn’t you go to heaven?”

Nan shrugs, “I’m not sure. I seem to be stuck here. I’ve tried walking home. But I don’t get very far. Then I’m suddenly back in the middle of the bridge. Doesn’t matter which direction I go. I can only go so far then I’m back on the bridge. I’ve even jumped off it a couple of times only to find myself right back on it.”

“Do you get cold and hungry,” asked TJ.

Nan shook her head, “No. I’m never cold now. And I don’t get hungry either. I don’t get wet when it rains or anything like that.”

“So where are you when no one can see you,” asked TJ.

“Sometimes I’m just watching,” answered Nan. “I can see into the park they built here and I like to watch the children play. But usually I’m sleeping. Or at least it feels like sleeping to me. And when someone needs help, I come help them. And when I feel someone who loves me is here, I come see them. Then I go back to sleep until I’m needed or wanted again.”

Nan spotted a car coming across the bridge. It’s not the same one she died on. That bridge had to be replaced after she died. The Dumas brothers’ vehicle did a lot of damage to the old bridge that was already in need of replacing. The new bridge is at least twice as wide as the old one. It has a sidewalk on both sides and a bike lane on both sides of the two lane bridge. Before it barely qualified as a two lane bridge. The car parked across the street from where Nan is talking with Tommy and his son. She lights up at the sight of the driver who’s getting out. It’s her Harper. Harper is no longer a young man, but he’s still a beautiful blond Adonis to Nan. He has a cane and Nan rushes to help him to her side of the street where there’s a very nice bench that he had placed there in her honor. It has an image of her and her name on it.

“Harper,” says Tommy concerned. “You look like hell man. Should you be out and about like this?”

Harper responds, “Cancer will do that to you. I assure you I feel just as bad as I look. And if Coral had her way I would do nothing but lay in bed waiting to die. But Rob’s not the only one that can sneak out, steal a car and go for a joy ride. Of course it’s my car, so it’s technically not stealing. And I always come here so it’s not like she won’t be able to find me when she realizes I’m not in my room waiting to die.”

Harper was nearly 6’6” in his prime. He played football and had been nicked named The Blond Adonis. Nan had initially tried to shoo him away when he tried to talk to her. She couldn’t imagine what such a tall gorgeous man would want to do with her. And she had been sure he was probably nothing but shallow and in love with himself. But they had a few classes together and Nan learned he was nothing but gentle, kind and intelligent. He wasn’t full of himself at all and quickly stole her heart. To Harper, Nandellei Nelson was the most beautifully exotic woman he had ever met. She was seriously studious and the one person he was sure was actually more intelligent than his older brother. And when she smiled, her whole face lit up and Harper knew she was the one the first time he saw her smile and that no one else would due.

“Harper,” Nan told him as they sat together on the bench, “you should probably be resting. You should have at least accepted treatment.” Cancer has taken its toll on Harper. He’s severely hunched over. His hair is completely grey and he’s extremely thin because he’s terribly underweight.

“Nan, that would only postpone the inevitable,” reminded Harper. “I have the same incurable cancer as my mother. Beside, I’m ready to be with you.”

Nan huffs frustrated, “You should have at least them try. They may have discovered something that would help someone else. You should have stopped coming here to me. You should have met someone else gotten married and had a family. You don’t know what’s going to happen when you die. We don’t know why I’m stuck here like this.”

Harper smiled at her lovingly, “I love you too Nan. You’re my soulmate. My life has been incomplete without you there everyday to boss me around.”

“I’m not bossy,” denied Nan.

Harper smiled even wider at her as he leaned into her arms, “Sometimes I tell myself things like, ‘Harper, your dirty clothes don’t belong on the floor. What do you think we have laundry baskets and hampers for,’ just because I miss you. So since I didn’t get to spend my life properly with my soulmate, the powers that be better let me spend eternity with her. If they don’t, they’re not going to like me. You know what a pain in the ass I can be sometimes.”

Nan smiled lovingly at him as a tear ran down her round tan cheek, “A suborn pain in the ass when you set your mind to it… I love you Harper.”

Harper wiped the tear from her cheek, “My beautiful Nan.” He closed his eyes contentedly. Then his head slumped forward.

“Dad,” questioned TJ scared.

Silent tears started to leak from Tommy’s eyes. Then his eyes grew wide with amazement as Nan stood up from the bench. And as she stood, Harper stood up from his body holding her petite hands. He was free of that frail sick body and back in his prime like he was when he met Nan. Sparkles and butterflies rained down over them and they weren’t in normal clothes anymore. Nan’s wavy black hair cascaded down her back. The clothing she was wearing the day she died were replaced by a long white gown. And Harper’s clothes were replaced by similar style white clothing.

Harper asked, “Nan, when did you get wings?”

Nan answered smiling, “The same time you got yours.”

Harper looked over his shoulder and said surprised, “Oh.”

“What’s happening Dad,” asked TJ.

“I’m not sure son,” answered Tommy.

Then a bright light in the shape of a door appeared. Tommy questioned, “You’re both going home now?”

Harper nodded, “Yes, we’re going together.”

Tommy asked, “Do you know why Nan was stuck here like she was?”

Harper and Nan both nodded as he answered, “We both know now.”

“Why,” asked Tommy. “What went wrong?”

Nan answered, “I wasn’t supposed to die that day. We all come into the world with an approximate expiration date. It wasn’t my time. Our free will caused a mix up. And I got stuck in a sort of limbo because I was supposed to have a long life with Harper. But we can both go home now. Take care Tommy Wells. We’ll meet again.”

As they passed through the light door, there was a blinding flash and they were gone. It was something you could actually feel. They were gone.

A little girl lost and afraid in the woods looks up at a man and woman hiker. The woman ask her, “Are you lost Reba?”

The little nods and asks, “How do you know my name?”

The woman smiles. “I’m Nan. I know the names of all the children who live around here. I know your father TJ Wells. And your grandfather Tommy and I are very old friends.”

“Are you sure you’re not bad people trying to trick me,” asks the little girl.

Nan smiles amused, “Do my husband and I feel bad to you?”

“No,” answers the little girl.

“Come Reba Wells,” says Nan as she picks her up. “Let’s get you back to your family.”

They walk for a while and finally step out of the woods by Nan’s old bench. Nan sits little Reba Wells on the bench. Then she and Harper sit on the bench too.

Reba touches the image of Nan and tells her, “You look like her.”

Nan and Harper both smile amused as Nan says, “Do I?”

Reba nods. “Grandpa says she was a really nice lady. That she saved his life when he was a little boy.”

Nan nods, “She did.”

“Are you her ghost,” asks Reba suspiciously.

Nan and Harper both giggle a little. But Nan shakes her head, “I’m not a ghost. I was never a ghost. But that’s what some people thought. I even thought that for a little while. Now I’m just an old friend who drops by when I’m needed.”

“Who needed you today,” asks Reba.

“You did,” answers Nan smiling brightly with Harper.

They hear family, friends and searchers calling Reba’s name. Harper stands and calls out to them, “She’s here! … She’s here at Nan’s bench!”

The first one to come bursting out of the forest is Tommy Wells. Relief covers his face. “Reba, thank goodness you’re safe.”

Reba hugs Tommy around his neck tightly, “This nice lady and her husband found me.”

Tommy looks at the man and woman who at first just appear to be hikers. But then he realizes he knows them. Tommy questions in disbelief, “Nan? … Harper? … Is that really you?”

Nan and Harper both nod as Harper confirms, “Yes, Tommy Wells, it’s really us.”

“It’s been so long,” says Tommy. “No one has seen you in years except the occasional small child who says you helped them find their way out of the woods.”

“We’re not needed here often,” responds Nan happy to see Tommy. “But we do come when we’re needed.”

“Dad,” questions TJ looking at Tommy as if he’s sprouted a second head.

“Look Daddy,” directs Reba, “Grandpa’s friends found me.”

“Who the hell are you people,” asks TJ concerned.

“I know it’s been a long time,” acknowledges Nan. “But we did meet when you were a little boy. I’m Nan and this is my husband, Harper.”

“It’s good to see you again TJ,” acknowledges Harper. “I’m sorry we weren’t properly introduced the first time we met. But I was just a little preoccupied at that time.”

“You were dying,” states TJ with feeling as other friends, family and searchers reach them. “I was nine. And I watched you sit right there and die.”

“I’m sorry if that was traumatic for you TJ,” apologizes Harper sincerely. “I just wanted to be with my Nan. I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here. And I was so exhausted from the cancer. But what you may perceive as the end of life here is the beginning elsewhere.”

“You go to heaven after you die right,” questions Reba.

“Heaven isn’t exactly the right way to describe it,” shares Nan. “But upon finishing life here, good people relocate to where we now exist and bad people are elsewhere. And it is very beautiful, but it is not work free. This small area is ours to look after. It was originally part of a larger area that was overseen by another being. But when I was stuck here, the being couldn’t gain access to this area. I was in the way. But Harper and I have been allowed to continue to oversee this area.”

“Being,” questions a woman. “What do you mean ‘being’? Like God?”

Nan shakes her head, “There is no God the way it is taught here. But there are great spirits, great intelligences, that watch over lesser beings here and on other worlds. They cannot interfere in your free will, but they watch and they guide by giving good feelings about things to those that are sensitive to them to help them make the right choice. But they can’t do anything about those who always choose selfishly.”

“Are you saying there’s no plan for us,” ask a man. “That it doesn’t matter. That everything is just random shit and it’s hopeless?”

Nan shakes her head, “Not at all. There is a plan and that is for lesser beings to grow into good beings and move to the next plain of existence as we have. And what you think of as heaven we simply call home.”

“For most of us,” adds Harper, “Dying isn’t losing someone we love because they will be home waiting for you to arrive.”

TJ points out, “You said for most of us. That means we all don’t make it to where you are. What happens to them? Are those the people that go to hell?”

“Technically,” explains Harper, “there’s not a hell the way you think of it. But bad people, evil people, cannot come home. They’re not ready.”

“So what happens to them,” asks TJ. “What happens to the ones that aren’t ready?”

“That depends,” responds Nan. “For evil people, they find themselves in a prison of their own making. And they will remain in that prison until they are truly remorseful and come to see the error of their ways. Then they are sent back here or another world for another chance to get it right. For those who are not ready because they simply died young and hadn’t gained enough life experience, they return here or arrive on another planet to continue their growth. But sometimes the very young are ready.”

“What makes one ready,” asks Tommy.

“Acceptance of self is one,” explains Nan. “Some people think one’s soul for lack of a better term is a certain gender or a certain race when it’s more accurate to say that a soul is clear, genderless and formless. So when people get hung up on a physical trait or traits, they are failing to accept their present self. Acceptance of others no matter what their present form is the next requirement. There are no bigots where we exist. There’s no room for those with that mental disorder because there are more than just human beings as you know them where we exist now. And most importantly, selflessness. You have to be able to put others before yourself willingly and without reservation or hesitation.”

“Like you did for me when you saved my life,” notes Tommy. “But you got stuck. You were stuck here for nearly thirty years. You said the last time I saw you that you were stuck. And you got stuck because you weren’t supposed to die that day.”

Nan nods, “Someone else was supposed to die that day. I was supposed to be here with Harper and discover a cure for the type of cancer he had. Now it will be several more generations before someone discovers that cure. But it will still be discovered.”

“Someone else was supposed to die,” states Tommy wondering. “Who was supposed to die that day instead of you?”

Nan informs him, “You were supposes to die that day Tommy Wells. You were ready. You had fully accepted yourself. You were fully accepting of others. And you were a generous selfless little boy.”

Tommy feels guilty, “But when you sacrificed yourself for me, you got cheated out of a happy life with Harper. Harper wasn’t the same without you. And you were studying to be a doctor. How many people have suffered and died because you saved me and you weren’t available to help them?”

Nan informs him, “That’s not important Tommy Wells. No one’s time here is unlimited. Everyone’s time here has to end. Some just sooner than others. Some go so quickly like I did that they don’t even realized they passed at first, not until they see their own body. Some not so quickly and are grateful when it’s time to go home. Some will get a redo because they’re not ready. And some will be stuck in a prison of their own making until they are ready for a redo. And they will likely be very different from the person they were before. Their ties to their previous family are lost. They basically have to start all over again. And while they are unable to remember their previous life, some fundamental lessons will stick with them. They often get referred to as old souls.”

“And now you’re going to take my father away from us,” states TJ upset.

“TJ,” Tommy tells his oldest, “they came to help Reba.”

“Dad,” insist TJ, “look at yourself.”

“What’s wrong,” asks Tommy. “Do I have a flagger hanging out of my nose?”

Reba informs Tommy, “Grandpa, your grey hair and wrinkles are all gone.”

“What,” asks Tommy who starts by looking at his hands and finds they aren’t the hands of an old man anymore. And he realizes he has no aches nor pains of any kind. He feels better than he’s ever felt before in his life. He looks at Nan and Harper and ask, “What’s happening to me?”

Harper points as he informs Tommy, “You passed away over there a few minutes ago. But you were so intent on getting to Reba and it happened so fast, you didn’t even realize it happened.”

 “Am I going to be stuck here like you were Nan,” ask Tommy concerned.

Nan shakes her head, “Not at all. You were ready a long time ago. And your wife Sylvia is waiting for you to come home.” She looks at his oldest, “I’m sorry this upsets you TJ. But look at it this way, your father was ready as a boy and got an unintended extension that gave you the blessing of having him for a father. He’s more than earned his place at home where your mother is waiting for him. And they’ll be waiting for you along with many other loved ones when it’s your time to come home.”

TJ complains, “It just doesn’t seem fair.”

Nan informs him, “That’s because you’re not quite ready yet yourself. When your time comes you’ll realize that the end of this existence is the beginning of a new existence and that transition is something that should be celebrated, not mourned.”

The doorway of light appears. Tommy is unafraid. He can feel his Sylvia on the other side waiting for him. He doesn’t look back. There’s a blinding flash of light as Nan and Harper follow him through the door.

Many claim the bridge is haunted. They say a woman and a man come when someone is lost to help them find their way home. But no one is afraid because it’s just Nan with her husband Harper. And few believe the stories about the door of light. They just know when a child gets lost near that bridge, they always say Nan helped them find their way back.