At his work, her husband was laughed at for being married to an Indian. This indignity affected her severely. The painful and abusive marriage of twenty-eight years eventually fell apart over alcohol addiction and infidelity.
One morning, she prayed for her merry-go-round to stop. Suddenly, her prayer was answered. Her burdens of alcoholism and hangovers were lifted from her and she has never touched another drop of alcohol since. Her sobriety fueled the distance between her and her husband. To further that distance, he would always talk and laugh with other women at the bar. She left hurt and confused many times.
Alone now most of the time, her mind stayed busy with her job and farm responsibilities. Until one night, she found herself locked out of house and home. Because of being kicked out, she discovered she had many more good friends than she thought who helped her get in, load up, and move into a rent house. The rental later suffered fire damage that the landlord blamed her for since she had left her hot-rollers turned on. At that point, her many friends helped her open a separate bank account for her needs and to find another place to live.
Oraibi still felt a void until finally finding her first love again in Jesus. After retirement she volunteered at a Youth for Christ agency and as a church clerk. She taught Sunday school and was involved in Vacation Bible School.
Then, upon hearing about Christian dating sites, her curiosity was piqued enough to give it a try one night. She signed up to see with whom she could communicate with a similar Christian-like faith. After the boredom of ruling out several candidates, she was ready to discontinue her membership after only a month. Before quitting, she tried one last time and she found one man who made a lasting impression.
In March of 2011, she flew to Oklahoma City. She and I continued to hit it off and I moved to Nebraska. I was immediately impressed by the love others have for her. This speaks volumes to me.
We married after eighteen months and moved to my hometown of Duncan, OK. I moved from Oklahoma City and she from Duncan, Nebraska. On the way there I looked at her and realized that this woman was going to make a lot of my dreams come true. I heard that a person can never go home again and know it will not be easy. For one thing, I know now that I must forgive the ones who ever abused me. Only then can I finally release myself from a guilt of being an unwilling participant. With the love I have for my new wife, and her love for me, it is entirely possible with God’s intervention. For the first time in my life I know the definition of love. Most importantly I can love her, and she can love me, with no second thoughts. A complete love. A love that is the closest thing on Earth to the love of God.
I apply for and receive a Choctaw Indian card. This connection with Oraibi as an Indian is a complete surprise! This new and unexpected connection, along with purchasing a house, is like a validation that both of us are exactly where God wants us.
We start going to the Chickasaw Senior Center for lunch during the week and meet many wonderful people. One man at the center is Abner Smith, who becomes like a father to me. Oraibi and I go on trips that would otherwise be impossible to afford. It all seems to be orchestrated by a power bigger than us. It is indeed the miracle prayed for. We attend and became members of a loving Southern Baptist church family.
After finishing this story, one day we go into the empty hose on Walnut Street. We walk into the house and go to the very spot where I see my mother racing to protect two of her daughters so many years ago. There is nothing there for me now. No sense of dread in my mind. No feelings left. It is over at last, I tell myself. I then turn to the kitchen and look in the sink. There are no cockroaches scurrying around. I no longer scurry for a place to go, either.
Even now, it is hard to imagine that sense of long-ago dread when my mother’s brother Jac moved into our house on Walnut Street after our move from Chestnut. I suddenly knew what was in store for me once again, and there was nothing I could do to prevent it from happening. I was powerless once more. What he did to me when I was three is beyond imagination. The bedroom, the bedspread I was forced to be a part of, the bloody sheets, my dad forcing Jac to leave, and the innocent laughter of my playmates after my leaving the trailer. I became an unwilling participant in that fake teasing. Paper hanging from my young pants was funny and I pretended it was an amusing bathroom accident that I forgot. We walked on (me, my brother, Linda, and Dena) and continued to play and act like nothing happened to me not thirty minutes before. The hurt my uncle did to me stayed with me as we laughed and played games that three-year-olds play. Later, as we played, and in spite of an act that would drive my thoughts for decades, I quickly hid those thoughts from myself with a sense of dread that would not die. Until now.
I hear a voice outside and look out the window and see a woman walking down the street in a lope and talking loud to herself. Full of anger and frustration, she passes the area where I caught the fly ball when I was ten-years-old. I wonder if maybe her ten-year-old could someday look up into the heavens and ask God above to lead him as he could not make it otherwise. The little boy would then know that living in the shadow of God’s love and His leadership is the only way he can make it through life. He will find out it’s really that simple.
A person can try and circumvent that journey taken in life, but once a life is truly given to God, that life cannot be taken back. No matter how one tries to make it happen, He will not abandon His child, staying even through mistakes and trials. God might have to send an angel dressed in purple and red to show the way, the way He did for me at ten. This is the order of God which cannot be abridged.
Speaking of the order of God—behind every Christian man is a Christian woman to remind him of the way to go, and the song in his heart. I remember a psychiatrist once said, “Don’t think too much, and listen to your wife.”
One morning, she prayed for her merry-go-round to stop. Suddenly, her prayer was answered. Her burdens of alcoholism and hangovers were lifted from her and she has never touched another drop of alcohol since. Her sobriety fueled the distance between her and her husband. To further that distance, he would always talk and laugh with other women at the bar. She left hurt and confused many times.
Alone now most of the time, her mind stayed busy with her job and farm responsibilities. Until one night, she found herself locked out of house and home. Because of being kicked out, she discovered she had many more good friends than she thought who helped her get in, load up, and move into a rent house. The rental later suffered fire damage that the landlord blamed her for since she had left her hot-rollers turned on. At that point, her many friends helped her open a separate bank account for her needs and to find another place to live.
Oraibi still felt a void until finally finding her first love again in Jesus. After retirement she volunteered at a Youth for Christ agency and as a church clerk. She taught Sunday school and was involved in Vacation Bible School.
Then, upon hearing about Christian dating sites, her curiosity was piqued enough to give it a try one night. She signed up to see with whom she could communicate with a similar Christian-like faith. After the boredom of ruling out several candidates, she was ready to discontinue her membership after only a month. Before quitting, she tried one last time and she found one man who made a lasting impression.
In March of 2011, she flew to Oklahoma City. She and I continued to hit it off and I moved to Nebraska. I was immediately impressed by the love others have for her. This speaks volumes to me.
We married after eighteen months and moved to my hometown of Duncan, OK. I moved from Oklahoma City and she from Duncan, Nebraska. On the way there I looked at her and realized that this woman was going to make a lot of my dreams come true. I heard that a person can never go home again and know it will not be easy. For one thing, I know now that I must forgive the ones who ever abused me. Only then can I finally release myself from a guilt of being an unwilling participant. With the love I have for my new wife, and her love for me, it is entirely possible with God’s intervention. For the first time in my life I know the definition of love. Most importantly I can love her, and she can love me, with no second thoughts. A complete love. A love that is the closest thing on Earth to the love of God.
I apply for and receive a Choctaw Indian card. This connection with Oraibi as an Indian is a complete surprise! This new and unexpected connection, along with purchasing a house, is like a validation that both of us are exactly where God wants us.
We start going to the Chickasaw Senior Center for lunch during the week and meet many wonderful people. One man at the center is Abner Smith, who becomes like a father to me. Oraibi and I go on trips that would otherwise be impossible to afford. It all seems to be orchestrated by a power bigger than us. It is indeed the miracle prayed for. We attend and became members of a loving Southern Baptist church family.
After finishing this story, one day we go into the empty hose on Walnut Street. We walk into the house and go to the very spot where I see my mother racing to protect two of her daughters so many years ago. There is nothing there for me now. No sense of dread in my mind. No feelings left. It is over at last, I tell myself. I then turn to the kitchen and look in the sink. There are no cockroaches scurrying around. I no longer scurry for a place to go, either.
Even now, it is hard to imagine that sense of long-ago dread when my mother’s brother Jac moved into our house on Walnut Street after our move from Chestnut. I suddenly knew what was in store for me once again, and there was nothing I could do to prevent it from happening. I was powerless once more. What he did to me when I was three is beyond imagination. The bedroom, the bedspread I was forced to be a part of, the bloody sheets, my dad forcing Jac to leave, and the innocent laughter of my playmates after my leaving the trailer. I became an unwilling participant in that fake teasing. Paper hanging from my young pants was funny and I pretended it was an amusing bathroom accident that I forgot. We walked on (me, my brother, Linda, and Dena) and continued to play and act like nothing happened to me not thirty minutes before. The hurt my uncle did to me stayed with me as we laughed and played games that three-year-olds play. Later, as we played, and in spite of an act that would drive my thoughts for decades, I quickly hid those thoughts from myself with a sense of dread that would not die. Until now.
I hear a voice outside and look out the window and see a woman walking down the street in a lope and talking loud to herself. Full of anger and frustration, she passes the area where I caught the fly ball when I was ten-years-old. I wonder if maybe her ten-year-old could someday look up into the heavens and ask God above to lead him as he could not make it otherwise. The little boy would then know that living in the shadow of God’s love and His leadership is the only way he can make it through life. He will find out it’s really that simple.
A person can try and circumvent that journey taken in life, but once a life is truly given to God, that life cannot be taken back. No matter how one tries to make it happen, He will not abandon His child, staying even through mistakes and trials. God might have to send an angel dressed in purple and red to show the way, the way He did for me at ten. This is the order of God which cannot be abridged.
Speaking of the order of God—behind every Christian man is a Christian woman to remind him of the way to go, and the song in his heart. I remember a psychiatrist once said, “Don’t think too much, and listen to your wife.”