I’m sitting on my couch, my daughter laying sixty feet away, suffering with cancer. I have chosen to not write about this, in the past, because it’s too personal, too overwhelming and there has been too much conflict.
I came home from Costa Rica, February 18, 2019, on an emergency ticket. I went straight to the hospital and proceeded to fall apart. Little by little, I have pieced myself back together, as I sit on the sidelines and watch her CANCER process, played out with the doctors, my sister and her father.
We know it was hard; so conflicting. All the alcohol, church and backwoods neighbors, created a confusing life. Come to Jesus and daily violence, were family tradition. Wearing beautiful clothes and farm work were contrary concepts. Roadside bus stops gave way to neon signs, in tavern windows. Continue reading Juke Joint Jesus
You have one man, with volcanic rage, simmering below the surface of his skin. You have one woman who is iron clad and formidable, prepared to protect the family at all cost. Each has their own story, steeped in alcohol, violence and money. Smiles would turn to grimaces – smile, frown – smile, frown – it was a dodge ball game. You would eventually get slammed.
Then take the kid. Twelve years old, eager to please; anxious to get every detail correct.