South Dakota- Central

There came a night when we found ourselves in the middle of nowhere.

Welcome to South Dakota.

Prior to the trip, we did a tad bit of research. (It's what homeschoolers do, right?) One of the reasons that the Black Hills area was chosen for Mt. Rushmore, was to attract more people to the area. To give them a reason to go..... because no other reason exists. South Dakota, the farming part, is nowhere near as flat and drab as it's Northern brother, but it is farmland, and that means it goes on forever. There are just enough rolling hills and vistas, however, to have kept me from gouging my eyes out. It was a pleasant drive along  a scenic byway.

My map reader, the 14yo, had chosen the route and the campsite for the night.
West Whitlock Recreation Area.

More specifically, we were HERE

 So the site was chosen and I could guess how long we were going to be on the road. We saw the sign for WWRA and had hope.  Only ten more miles! So we girded ourselves and drove for ten more miles. At that juncture there was another sign for West Whitlock Recreation Area- another 12 miles in another direction. I laughed and we turned and drove another 12 miles.  Someone in the state of South Dakota has a sense of humor, that's all I'm gonna say. Each and every marker was only used to tell us how long until the next marker! I had no idea how long it was going to take us to get there! After about an hour of thinking it was "just around the corner" or "another 2 miles", we finally were able to drive past the crop circles you see above. The crop circles are important. It's that little dog leg that the road takes North of the intersection that I'm wanting to talk about.

The inhabitants of WWRA have made a little roadside parking area up there. It's quaint and serves it's purpose well. Ya see, that's the only place one can have cell service!!! I'm not kidding. Not in the least. You get full coverage in a 100ft square... and then nothing..... for miles. Somehow this fact had been neglected on the website.

Barbara, the suburban, had never quite recovered from the past few stops. She was a mess inside and out. Our things were all over the place. The boys had been throwing stuff down at their feet to the point of no longer having foot room. I mean, they had their knees in the air when sitting! She was needing some love, but not that night. That night I was determined to just enjoy the time with the kids.

We set up the site, and had some dinner. I was able to use the new Coleman stove I was forced to buy when my other new Coleman stove broke.  The kids had the playground to themselves. We basically had the entire campground to ourselves. It was kinda hot. The showers were clean and hot. I was able to get some writing done while they played. There were deer. And some clouds.

The clouds were off on the Southern horizon. They weren't black or foreboding. (Anyone who's lived in Mississippi knows what I mean) These were just rain clouds. Not the best thing, but nothing to get me worried or to force me to dig through all of the junk in the truck in order to find the NOAA weather radio I'd purchased.

"We'll just get some more rain and stay until the tent dries," I thought to myself.

(you think you can see where this is going, right? )

So we worked our way back to the tent and settled in for the rain. But. It kinda didn't rain. I mean, it started and stopped. It spit and then went still. And then the wind started. Not just a little gusts now and then, nope. This was knock-the-ten-sideways kind of wind. The kids were petrified. And cold! The temp dropped over ten degrees in minutes. We weren't dressed for it.

I need to pause my narrative to tell you this: I'm a mountain girl. The bulk of my life has been spent in the Blue Ridge or Appalachian mountains. I moved to Tennessee only 8 months ago and we still have mountains and hills to protect us. I know nothing of wind.

As the wind increased, I pulled out my new bible (thank you, dear Cinnamon!) and began to read from Psalms to the children. The boys fell asleep as the wind blew. The Daughter did not. The wind picked up. The sides of the tent would go flat against us with each gust. Ever so quietly, my very brave daughter said very quietly, "Mom, I'm scared."

Now, we've been through some tough things. Never has she uttered those words. It was those words that frightened me. We prayed and tried to sleep. The wind was horrific. It still had yet to rain. I fell asleep. What woke me next I will never be able to aptly describe . While asleep, a wall of wind came through and sucked all of the air out of the tent! I couldn't breathe! I woke gasping for air! It came and was gone as fast as I could blink. I was awake. I was alone with four children. I was scared.

Daughter was awake as well. She could hardly speak from fear.

"This is stupid," I said to her. "Give me a minute. I'm going out to set up the truck. I'll come back and get you."

So out into the storm I ran and jumped into the truck. A quick look told me it was midnight. I spent some time getting things situated to accommodate the kids and myself then ran back to the tent. Daughter took herself into the truck while I carried 7 and 4yo. Mr. 9yo was another thing all together. He would wake. I actually checked his pulse. (Don't judge, moms, I know you've done it too) He had to be half dragged into the truck.

Once situated, I was able to actually see this storm that had been tormenting us. It was awe inspiring. The lightening way up in the clouds, the trees bent over. But we were in it.  It moved to the North. Slowly. By two o'clock, it was on the Northern horizon and I knew we were safe.

I thought to myself, "Well, now we know we can live through a storm!" And attempted sleep. I was so very tired. It was so very quiet. No wind, no bugs, nothing. It was weird. I really hate to use that word here, I just had never lived through anything like it and don't have an adequate vocabulary to let you know. It was so quiet that it hurt my ears.

I moved back into the tent with 7yo and fell asleep somewhere around 3am.

In the morning, our site was the place to be. We were ever so popular. All of the RVers came to see if we'd made it through the night. "How sweet," I thought, "next time invite us in to your RV!" Not only that, but the park ranger came to see if we were still alive! He said that he had stayed up past midnight to make certain that the storm was going to miss us before falling asleep himself. In his cabin. Not 2 miles from our flimsy tent. Just sayin'. He could have earned my respect a bit better. So it was a bad storm even to the residents.

I leave you with the lesson I had for the kids next morning:

We did it!! I have no idea what kind of storm it was. But we did it. I'm reminded of Wesley in the Fire Swamp, now that we know what it is, we can live through it again! We're stronger for it and that knowledge can't be taken away by anyone!!

(I totally get points for fitting Princess Bride into a lesson)

Next stop? Mount Rushmore
(and The Beatles' Rocky Raccoon was in my head the entire way)

Andrew

I've been praying, lately, to be freed from Andrew.  I assume that's the a large portion of the pain I've been fighting lately.  In some effort to heal from him- some form of catharsis- this post is for Andrew.

It wasn't always bad. It wasn't. He was my light. He would enter the room and I'd get all giddy. He'd call and my heart would flutter at the sound of his voice. He was my everything.  All of my dreams for life were attached to his happiness. If only I'd ever made him happy.

Daddy got a sickness in his head. Somewhere, somehow, a switch was flipped. No one on the outside can understand the reasons of his illness- be glad. Rejoice! I must teach myself to be happy that I can't fathom what he thought in the darkness of his mind. Somehow, if I were to understand, then I am as sick as he.

So some day, he made the conscience decision to act on all of those dark thoughts. That day was the end of all I'd known. But here's the rub- I continued to live in a lie for at least 11 more years. I don't know when he got sick or when he changed. So, for 11 years more, he told me he loved me... and lied to my face. In the end, he told a friend our marriage had been over after the second year. He just never let me know.

He never loved me.

never.

So there are days when I miss him. I am filled with regret. If only we could have made things better. If only we could have worked it out......

and it never could have been fixed.

You see, on the other hand was his illness. He spent 11 years feeding the monster in his head. He spent 11 years perfecting his evil. Right. Under. My. Nose.

By the time we ran,  I knew that we were so far removed from 'normal' that we had no idea how badly we stank.

August will be a year without him. This wasn't supposed to be my life. I was supposed to be married to one man for life. We were supposed to share our old age together. My kids were supposed to have a father who loved them. Ahhh, regret.

So, while I'm on this rant..... his family. When they were confronted with the label "pedaphile" they said they didn't believe. It wasn't convenient for them. They would never know the truth.

Funny. Neither will I.

So, Andrew was nothing I wanted him to be and my hope for him was everything. I will never know the truth or the depth of the lies.  I miss what could have been, and fear him returning. I have this remnant  of PTSD- I'm afraid of certain corners in my home. I'm afraid he'll walk around them.  Our lives are better for him being gone and that's horribly sad.

I've said goodbye to him in so many different ways and many different degrees.

He will never be gone from our lives.

Alone

Like so many young girls, I dreamed of getting married. Oh, there were many other dreams as well: librarian, author.... but I wanted to be married.

At the age of twenty-four I married.

At the age of thirty-eight I became a widow.

I am alone.

Alone is a multi-level kind of thing. There is the knowledge that I go to sleep alone every night. That's a given. No dates for me. (I won't turn my kid's childhood into a revolving door of strange men. Dating is only a band-aide at best.)  Next is realizing that every decision is now made by myself alone. All of the burdens of every aspect of my life and the life of my four children- mine to do alone.  Now let's go to a deeper level of alone; my future. Sure, I'm planning the next step of everything constantly. Alone.

Now, there are many people almost forty who have never been married. It was never in my game card, though. I feel as if, overnight, my career choice vanished. Not just a pink slip one day at the office- off to find a new job with some other company. Not at all. Overnight, my job vanished from the face of this earth. There was no life to which I could return.

I started over. Moved. New house. New vehicle. And ya know what? It's all alone. There are no friends who are equipped to help with something as broken as this. All of the myriad  of counselors have only sat mute. No text books have the solution to this sort of problem. So alone each day I pick up my family and move forward into their future.

I read somewhere, recently, that parents  need to live a life outside of their children in order to show their kids something. I don't know what, really. I don't have that luxury. I'm all they have.

I'm naturally a Pollyanna about life. I'm not a bitter person.  I am alone, though.

Sorry about the run of less than happy posts.

Loss

As the 7yo came to me today, with tears in his eyes, I thought I knew what he was going to say. Being only 6 when his father died, he has been having a difficult time coming to grips with feelings too mature for him.  He doesn't cry very often or for very long. He has only had one day where he wept openly.

I feel helpless. How do I assist this small man to deal with things most adults can not grasp? What do I say? Most days I feel like a robot. My usual mantra goes something like this, "It's normal to miss your Daddy. I want you to miss him. You will always love him and I want you to."

But this afternoon was different. Somehow, this small man has begun to quietly wrestle with eternity and the ramifications of knowing your Redeemer. Today, the 7yo had a list for me.

(To clarify, my mother had a stroke a few weeks prior to Easter. My Sister told my children and I that we "deserved what we got" and some other nastiness resulting in "I don't want you in my life.")

                                                          His List

"Mom, I miss Nana.  I miss walking into her house and having her there. I miss going to the zoo with her. And I miss my Cousin. He was my best friend. I miss going to his home.  Do you miss your sister? Why doesn't she want to see us? And I miss Pawpaw. We never see him anymore. Mom, I miss Dad. Is he in heaven? And I wish I could see him again. And why don't we live in Virginia anymore, Mom? I miss our old house. And our old friends. "
He continue to list all that he has lost in a years' time. And I stood, helpless. Helpless and amazed at all my kids have lost.

We don't want it back, that life we once led. Beyond the occasional day like today, we don't miss the monster who once ruled our lives. But we all miss the dream. We all miss the wanting of a better life.

I want to give them a better world. A world without hurt or meanness, or wrong doings. A world without sin.  It isn't in my power to give. I can give strength and teach them to pull themselves up by their bootstraps. I can teach them to be firm in a wavering world. I can teach them that we don't quit, no matter how badly we want to. There are some days when life is too much, those days we spend in bed. It's OK. Spend that one day in bed, then get back up the next.

I can teach them.

But I can't take away their longing for something more. I'm raising 3 boys into men of honor, and I'm doing it on my own. They have no father who walks through the door at 5 each night.  No father with whom to wrestle. No father, yet that's better than what they had.

Some days, life is just a list of Loss.