I Thought He Walked on Water

Dear Little Crystal,
I have been avoiding you. Writing to you hurts so much sometimes. But, I started this blog as a way of going back in time and loving and protecting you the way you should have always been loved.
Lately my world feels confusing. When the world is confusing to you, you calm yourself by sucking your thumb and playing with your ear. I am proud to say, I do not suck my thumb any more. I do however still play with my ear. That habit has caused me to have a cauliflower ear and I don't even box! You also sing, dance & act. No one is there to applaud. But, all alone you put on quite a show.
Often when children are adopted and are old enough to remember their parents, they will fantasize & dream of the day that their parents will get their lives in order, get back together and then whisk the child away with them to that place in fairy tales called Happily Ever After.
You are not like most kids. Your mind doesn't work the same. You live somewhere on the mezzanine of fantasy and reality. Even at 3 you understand that mom and dad are not coming back. They are not getting back together. But you don't miss them anyway. I am not saying that to be mean or snippy. It's just the truth. There is someone you actually rely on more. There is someone you miss more.
Your oldest brother and oldest sibling Doug is who you really miss. He is Superman to you. When you are alone singing and playing and sucking your thumb. you know in your heart that Doug will one day come and sweep you up in his arms and take you to a house with a white picket fence where all your brothers and sisters live and are waiting for you.
Doug is your hero. You have a bond with him that is phenomenal. When you were born Doug picked out your name, Crystal Joy. When you were born, Doug worked to help pay the family bills. Doug changed your diapers and fed you bottles. In nearly every picture from those days you are in his arms.


At your new home, you can't remember all your siblings. When Linda first arrived, you knew she was your sister, but you did not remember her. You had to be told by Alan who she was. Yet there is nothing that can erase Doug from your memory. You write him letters, draw him pictures and dream of the days he will hold you again.


My dear sweet angel, life rarely goes as we plan. I can go on and on about all the things that played a part in the estrangement between you and Doug, but today I just want to close my eyes and go back to his arms. I was so happy there. Doug died this week. And the mixture of sadness, guilt and utter loneliness I feel over this loss is overwhelming.
Douglas Ray Williams I love and miss you and I'm sorry if you died not knowing that.
As for you my sweet little Crystal. I will write to you soon when I have more strength.
As always little princess,
I Love You.

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The Pearl

Dear Little Crystal,
I really had no idea when I was going to be able to publicly talk about this, but today just seems like the day.
You have these memories, flashbacks, thoughts. Since you are so little, you don't know what they mean. They are weird. They make you feel funny. You aren't really sure if you have made them up or if they are real.
The first is the memory in the bathroom.
As a child that memory is weird to you. It takes age and maturity for you to even begin to understand what happened. You will be a grown woman before you will be able to talk openly about this event.
The second memory at your age is even more confusing. I will tell you as you see it and then, I will explain it.
You are in your mom and dad's bed. You are 2 or younger. Your father and mother are laying on each side of you. They seem wobbly. Your dad does something to your mom. He shows some sign of affection. Your mom does not like it. She pushes him away or he pushes her. That part is fuzzy. She falls off the bed. Your dad then turns his attention to you. He touches you in your diaper area. Outside or inside the diaper is not clear, but mom gets up. She does not like it. She picks you up and places you in your crib in their room.
You're a baby. I am a grown woman. Those 2 small memories will play over in your mind so many times for the rest of your life that it permanently mars you. You don't understand them because you are a child with no knowledge of sex or sexual boundaries. That is why you always wonder what these thoughts really are.
One day you will grow up. You will be a teenager and you will travel back east for a family wedding. Everyone gets drunk and you have an opportunity to ask an aunt and a sister about your memory.
The wine and booze loosens their lips. "Wow! You remember that?" one says. "Yeah, it is exactly what you think. Your crib was in their room. I can't believe you remember that. Your father was sick. He was eventually arrested for molesting one of your sisters." More stories are told and life is never the same after that night. The pain in your gut is like a knife. You hide in the dark and cry in a corner.
You start to understand. At this age, while at the wedding, you are already aware that your parents were alcoholics. Now you know that on that night as a baby, you were on the bed. They were drunk. Your father made a pass at your mom. In her drunken state she fell off the bed. He then went to fondle you. Mom put you in your crib.
It wasn't a thought, or a figment of your imagination. Your father fondled you. Isn't it weird that you remember that your crib was in their room even though you were just a baby? Not really. The fact is we remember traumatic experiences even when we are infantile.
As you grow up you will continue to learn more and more disturbing facts about your father. But that night with your drunken family serves only to solidify your worst nightmares. I am so sorry. It should not have happened to you. I am also sorry because that is not how you should have been told.
Today I watched an author tell the world that pedophiliac acts aren't all bad and can actually be good for a child. He thinks we look at it all wrong.
Let me assure you that what happens to you as a BABY, is NOT good and affects you in ways people can never imagine.
Life goes on. You grow up and have your own children. You begin to wonder if there is some horrible, evil, monster gene that makes people molesters. Can you inherit the gene? Did you inherit the gene? Could you one day wake up and hurt a child? At about the time you start to ponder these absurd questions, you begin to read the book Making Love Last Forever. In the book the author says you must take every negative thing in your life and find the pearl, the positive that cane from the negative. He says that an oyster makes a pearl by getting a tiny grain of sand stuck inside it's shell. It's painful and takes a long time of hard labor but eventually that grain of sand becomes a pearl. This just makes you so mad! What is Smalley thinking? Not every bad thing becomes good! Is he naive? You yell out to God, "How can I find a pearl in this? Really? What good comes from a man molesting his own children? He was my father. He was supposed to protect me from the monsters not be the monster!"
That night you cry yourself to sleep. But then, suddenly you are awaken! "Your love for your children!" a voice says loud and clear. You know the voice. God has answered you. If you actually had a perfect childhood, you would love your children but not the way you do right now. You see, it is because this horrible earthly father did this, that you love, protect, educate, and care for your children with such an unwavering passion. That is your pearl.
I am sorry that your parents didn't do the same for you. Every child should have a protector. I want to be there for children who have no voice. I wish I could go back and be there for you. I am here for you now.
Why does pain caused by someone else make the victim feel such shame? I don't know but it does.?
I love you princess!
Love, Crystal


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Rejection & Neglect

Dear Little Crystal,
I am trying to write to you more often. I want to share the beauty of you with others. I feel like I neglect this part of my life. It's easy for me to reject myself as I have learned to be comfortable with rejection. Or at least that is what I tell myself.
I never realized how much you faced rejection at such an early age. "Rejecting", is something some people have made into an art form. In the dictionary it says that one definition is to refuse as lover or spouse. It doesn't talk about refusing a child. However in this country, it is an epidemic.
But the first time you face rejection isn't the day your mommy leaves. I realized recently that neglect is a form of rejection.
I don't know what time of year it is. I scarcely remember anything about the day. I know you are little, very little. You are under 3 years old. You have 2 dolls that you love so much. You have named them Jack and Jill. It will be many years later before I will learn that those dolls are called Kewpie dolls.
I think you are sitting outside playing with them. This may not seem so bad to others that read this story. However, the truth is, you live on skid row in Detroit Michigan. You live in a dangerous part of town. You live in a black ghetto but you are not black. Your sister Linda will one day write about how she would run home from school but often get caught before she could make it all the way home. Those hunting her were people who hated her because she was white. They would grab her and beat her in the alley. That is where you live.
On this day, as you play, you see 2 of your sisters going for a walk down the street. I can't see who they are. I've talked to my siblings and most agree that it is either Tammy and Linda or Cheryl and Linda. Where are they going? It must be fun! They are so much fun! You want to go to. So, as toddlers do, you toddle off to follow them. Sadly, they don't want you to come and as siblings do, they run away from you. On the streets of Detroit, you have been neglected by your parents and rejected by your siblings. I don't see you crying. I don't see how far you get. I don't see anything else until you are sitting on a counter in the police station. You are having a blast. Policemen are heroes. They are handsome and they give you ice cream. There is another little boy there. He is eating ice cream too.
I don't remember your mom coming to get you but, she does. When you get older you tell your family this memory and they are astounded that you can remember so much. Of course you remember. As you get older YOU ARE ASTOUNDED that anyone would lose a child in Detroit Michigan. Who does that? Worst of all, on that very day, you lost your Kewpie dolls and no one seemed to care. Maybe you dropped them on your walk. Maybe someone took them from your front yard. Perhaps you left them in the police car or station. You never find out, but you always miss them.
As you share this story you find out that the 2 sisters were going to the store and that they intentionally ditch you. They were kids. They thought you would go back home.
Rejection never gets easier. You lie to yourself and say that it is easier but the truth of the matter is that it is only easier to hide the pain, to build the walls, to wear the mask. You face rejection in love, friendship, in approval and in your career.
Tomorrow I have an interview. Times are tough right now and I have been looking for a job for 4 months. When you get your 1st job at 13 cleaning a beauty salon, you feel great. You feel accepted. From that point on there is never a job you apply to that you are not given. That is until now.
I have filled out hundreds of applications. I have been to dozens of interviews. I have had many companies tell me to keep applying because they think I am great. Yet, I can't see to close the deal. I want to walk in there and tell the hiring manager to not waste my time and I won't waste their time. I am the best candidate if they want to improve sales. If they don't hire me, the will regret it but they won't know they regret it because they will have no comparison. But whoever does hire me will be their competitor and I can assure them that the competitor will be taking business away from them. When they ask "why do you want to work for our company?" I want to look them straight in the eye and say "because I need a job and you're hiring!"
I won't do any of those things. However, I will bring you with me. When I get done, you and I can look for a policeman, tell him we are lost and then go get an ice cream. We will come home and then I will help you find your Kewpie dolls. I am sure I can find them on Ebay.
I am sorry you were neglected and rejected, but I want you to know that God not only accepts you the way you are, he designed you the way you are.
When others have allowed you to roam the streets of Detroit while still in diapers, God has you in his hands. He doesn't just hold you in his hands. He says he has engraved you in his hands. That's pretty amazing really. Nowadays, a tattoo can be removed for the most part with laser treatment. But, scars are nearly impossible to remove. If God carved us into His skin, we would be a permanent part of Him. He couldn't neglect or reject us if He tried.
I love you and I am working hard on not neglecting or rejecting you either.
Wish me luck on my interview!
Love, Crystal

What is in a name, or a title for that matter?

Dear Little Crystal,

It's the weekend. Here at my house, weekends are for rest, spending time together, shopping, fellowship and preparing for the week ahead.
For you, things are a little different.
At a very young age (while in elementary school) you start working for your Uncle Jim. Your Uncle Jim had been really affected by the great depression. Because of this He works hard so his family will never struggle like he did. He was an incredibly hard worker. He was also a great inventor. He invented the The Tight Squeeze Wrench. He and his friends went into business together. They open up a plant and begin production on the wrench. That's where you come in.
Nearly every evening, and every Saturday you and your siblings work at the plant. You get .50 cents an hour and the others get $1. Your tasks are small at first. You glue instructions into the box which can be tedious. Often you take the brush and paint a picture with the glue to stave off boredom. Eventually you will work on a tool press machine that men much older than you cannot work with the speed that you produce.
You have many good times at the plant. Sometimes at lunch you get to eat with Uncle Jim and his partners. As you eat, you always address your new daddy as "Uncle Jim". So does your sister Linda.
At one particular lunch, the wife of one of the partners decides it's her job to be our family counselor.
"When are you going to start calling him dad, honey?" You are speechless. This is never talked about. You were promised that you could call them whatever you want. You were told you never had to call them mom and dad. Why are they asking you? You are not the one who should decide. Where is Linda when you need her?
The lunch continues with you and 3 adults all telling you that Nancy and Jim are your mom and dad now. They love you and you should call them mom and dad. You want to run and hide. Maybe slide under the booth at the coffee shop you are at. You want to cry. I wish I could be there and tell them to stop.
As a child you are often adaptable to the changes that occur in your life. The pain of loss and rejection comes over time. As you grow, you become more aware of what you have lost thus making the emotional injuries much more serious.
Also as you grow, you become more aware of the boundaries people cross that should be taboo. This conversation about what to call your new parents is a boundary that your patriarch should not have let acquaintances cross. But they did, and he did.
It isn't that you don't love your new mommy and daddy. The problem is like many problems in your life, it is deeper. I don't know if it's because I live in a different time, or if it's because my generation is obsessed with self-help. But, it just seems so obvious to me that a child whose parents are still alive and that was taken in by relatives would naturally be confused.
You think in your little heart and mind that if you call these people mommy and daddy Linda will be mad at you. If you call them mommy and daddy, your mommy and daddy might disappear forever. If you call them mommy and daddy, they might leave you too.
Even though they bombard you with opinions, accusations and speculation, it would be a very long time before you would call them mom and dad. Maybe it is your stubborn nature or maybe it is just how God intended it, but you have boundaries yourself and you hold to them.
In my life people will call me many things (some not so nice). As a parent, this incident helped me realize that I needed to be sensitive to my children's desires and needs when they address people in their lives. It also had taught me not to get hung up on titles because the truth is, it is more important where I stand in someone's heart.
Mario is 2 when Doug comes into our lives. As he grows and it becomes more evident that Doug and I will marry and have a family, the mom you have become knows that it's time to talk to Mario about what to call Doug and what to call his dad's future wife. You tell Mario that he can call Doug and Darla whatever he wants (with respect). If they feel like a mom or dad and he feels they deserve it, he can call them mom and/or dad. That doing so is not a question of loyalty to his real mom and dad. You, as a mother, know in your heart that when Mario wants his mom, it is you he wants. You are secure in that thought and do not need sole ownership to a title to know you are his mom.
Mario grows up in our house and to be fair, he actually met Doug before Darla. He decides to call Doug dad, but Darla remains Darla. It's hard on his real dad sometimes, but it is for Mario to decide, not us.
As time goes by there are days you are called Mrs. Maldonado because people know you as Mario's mom. You never correct them. To do so would be to tell Mario that your title is more important than his feelings. When people call you Mrs. Maldonado they are connecting you to Mario and you don't want to ever cause disconnection. But, then one day it happens. Something that will test the true father and son bond between Mario and Doug. One of Mario's friends calls Doug "Mr. Maldonado". Without a look, sigh or any sign of confusion, Doug answered to Mr. Maldonado (and he would many times). He later would say that it was because he knew people called Mario by the last name Yaeger and he liked that Mario never corrected them. He felt that they were family no matter what they were called and he wanted Mario to know that.
On one sunny day little girl, you will walk into the kitchen and hear Linda call Aunt Nancy, Ma. It will be the first motherly title you will give her. It is the sign you have needed to tell you that it's okay, she won't leave you.
I am a daughter, sister, niece, cousin, aunt, mom, wife, sister-in-law, friend, and I have held many other titles. But none of them matter if not said with love. I loved Ma.
I love you and will write soon,
Crystal


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In Memoriam

Dear Little Crystal,
Last night I watched The Emmy Awards. At the end they did a segment dedicated to all the TV stars who had died throughout the year. For being so little you have lost a lot of loved ones in your life.
I see you grieving. It is the first time you face death. Aunt Nancy is sitting at a piano, she is crying after a phone call. You all try to console her when she says that Bud has died. Bud was her best friend. He was as close to a brother as she ever could have had. You've never met Bud, but you have seen pictures and heard stories about Aunt Nancy and Bud.
You are just a little girl maybe 5 or 6. Suddenly, the horrible truth sinks inside your body. It's alarming how death is palpable. You realize that you will never meet Bud! Dead means forever! That is a huge realization for a child. It's true, no one can save him. This realization overwhelms you and you begin to cry.
Your siblings mock you. "What are you crying for? You baby! You didn't even know him!"
But you didn't need to know him, you are grieving something far more deep, more pure, and more Godly. You are grieving the loss of life in and of itself. Somewhere along the way man has lost the true value of human life. But, it has not been lost on you. Death should be mourned and so you cry.
After that, death became more intimate, more personal.
The awards show made me think of our loved ones who have passed. Their loss of life has not made death any easier. On the contrary, death in general has become harder for me to face.
There are people who died who you were not that close to such as cousins, aunts etc. But the following are those you lost that took a piece of your heart. It is important to remember them.

Doris Anderson - Aunt Nancy's mom. She was grandma to you. She became sick while visiting you and later died.
Linda Williams - Your older sister. You shared a room. She was all you had left of your original family. She was hit by a drunk driver. Her friend was also killed who you knew at the time, but his name escapes me now.
Alan King - he was at Linda's funeral and attended church with us. You loved him like a brother. A few short weeks after Linda died, Alan's car went off the rode when his friend fell asleep at the wheel.
Don Anderson - Aunt Nancy's father and your grandpa. He loved you so much! He never treated you different. After grandma died, he is diagnosed with emphysema. He comes to live with you. You bring him his meals on trays to his room everyday. Whenever you go to pick up the tray when his meal is done, there is always some money on the tray for you to keep.
One morning you wake up extra early. Something is wrong. You go to his room and there you see his stiff corpse. He has died in his sleep. This will haunt you for years.
Brett Hamlin - He was your first husband. Well, not legally but when you were about 4 years old, you and he dressed up and marched down the hallway as man and wife. He was one of your best friends. He had a twin brother Bart that was also your friend. On your 19th birthday, your father will call to tell you he has died. His car crashed into a wall. I still do not know all the details. He is buried in Cypress near Linda.
Dan Caraway - Dan was your youth group leader. You met him at ashram (a Christian camp) in the summer. He would be in a motorcycle accident on that same Christmas Eve. On New Year's Eve he passes away. The grief of this loss is overwhelming and you begin to change. (You will find your way back but it takes awhile).
Glenn Williams - This is your real father. The loss here was more of what could've been than what was. He was never your Dad. Jim played that roll. But that is what made this so sad. He died of cirrhosis of the liver from his years of alcoholism.
Gordon Yaeger - Your Father-in-Law. He is a good man who becomes very close to Mario. One day he is fine, the next day he dies of lung cancer. Yes, he was a smoker.
Jim Williams - Uncle Jim and the man you know and love as daddy. He lives a long life and dies in your sister's arms.
Jorge Monjares - You date him for a little while but eventually just become friends. At 56 he dies of a sudden unexpected heart attack. Kara calls you to tell you.
Cousin Lucille - She is Aunt Nancy's cousin but she is a hero to you. She dies alone. No funeral. You hold a service in your home all by yourself to honor her.
Nancy Williams - Aunt Nancy and the only mom you ever really know and love. You, she and your family plan a trip to Jamaica. However, during a check-up they find brain cancer. Instead of Jamaica, you fly to California to bury your mother.
April Stiles - You don't know when or how she dies but you find out via the the Internet. She was a childhood friend and fellow softball player.
William Hogg - Uncle Bill. He is the man who takes you out of the orphanage until Aunt Nancy and Uncle Jim decide that you should live with them. He just died last week.

There are more but these stand out. Thank you God for allowing me to know each of these people even for a moment.
My dear little Crystal, life is short! Be kind, keep your heart open and cherish every second with those you love.
With love as always!



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Derby Dr,Murrieta,United States

Back Home

Dear Little Crystal,
I'm home!
I really can't believe I am here. It seems like a lifetime has passed. As I drove from my rental house in Riverside County down through Orange County and into Hollywood the other day, a flood of emotions washed over me.
I missed every street, every sidewalk, every traffic-ridden freeway! I love California. This is were we belong.
You were born in Detroit Michigan but from your bleach-blond hair to your sparkling blue eyes, you have always been a California girl!
In the morning when you wake up, you know what the weather will be. When you set off for school down Pauline, to Rosemary, and then down the small alley (that you pretend is an alley in New York), across Holder to your elementary school of the same name, you will need a
hoodie from the cool morning air.





But, by lunchtime, when you set out on the playground and find Lisa leaning on a pole, the sun will shine down and warm the pavement and your hoodie will hang from the back of your chair.
As you grow up you will learn to drive. You will drive to Anaheim almost nightly to go to Disneyland to see Krash play! You will drive to work at Baskin Robbins on Valley View. You will drive to Long Beach to hang out with your sister when you and mom can't get a long. Your car is awesome a 1968 Mustang! You call her "Becky"! She will take you all around this wonderful golden state!
As I drove by and on some of those same streets, it occurred to me how much I had missed MY California. I actually began to feel choked up inside. I have been all around the United States. I have been to Mexico. I have been to Hawaii. I have lived In 3 states, California, Nevada and Kansas. But, until I drove around here again, I never realized how much I was connected to this place.
The traffic doesn't bother me, it is a part of me. The same with the smog, the people, the noise, the economy. I never knew that a place, one solitary place could make me feel so much emotion.
In your life, you will write love letters, poems and even songs to those that you give your heart to. But, your heart really belongs to California. I wish I had known that. I would have never left.
As always, I love you!
I guess now I realize that you love California!

Patience like you

Dear Sweet Little Crystal,
I have been thinking about you a lot lately, little girl. Maybe because I am getting ready to move back to California. Maybe it is because it is nearly 1 year since mom has passed away. I am not sure why you cross my mind so much at certain times, but you do.
Right now, I am trying to get a job out in California from my desk in Kansas. It is not usually hard for me to find work. I mean I am kind of like Jerry Maguire. I am good at interviews like he was good in a living room. But, I can't seem to get to the interview. Waiting for the phone to ring is killing me. I hate even hearing the phone ring because I want it to be about a job, but it never is. I am afraid when friends and loved ones call, I probably sound disappointed. Perhaps I even sound agitated.
Funny how things change. You are a very patient little girl. You do not like to impose on people. You don't like people to be upset it makes you feel sad. You don't want them to leave or ship you off.
So there you are at Disneyland. It has been a long and exciting day. But your ear hurts. It hurts real bad. You don't want to tell anyone because the parade is coming and you are all lining up for the famous Disney Electrical Parade. Aunt Nancy and Uncle Jim seem very excited. Linda, Craig and Christine too are so filled with anticipation. You wish you could be too. But your ear hurts very bad. Maybe you can keep it warm. If it were warm, the pain could go away. So you lay down on the curb and put your little head down on someone's feet like a pillow. I can't see who it is. Maybe it is Aunt Nancy. Her shoes would be clean enough to lay down on. Everyone snickers at you. They think you are tired. You are a little girl and it has been a very big day. So, they think you are laying down and about to fall asleep. But, the pain is too great. You just want this parade to come and go. It seems like forever, but you do not complain, you do not tell a sole, and you try to enjoy the floats and princesses that pass you by. You are such a good girl. Finally the parade ends. "Can we go now?" you ask Aunt Nancy. "You want to go?" she asks with a surprised lilt in her voice. She thought that no child every wanted to leave the happiest place on earth. "Yes please. I have an ear ache." Suddenly, it dawns on her why you have been laying at their feet and being so quiet and still. She swoops you up in her arms and as only a mother would do in one graceful movement, kisses your head to check for fever.
I don't have your patience any more, little one. I whine and cry and tell anyone who will listen about every tiny troublesome issue. If that were the me I am now, I would have already posted it 15 times on Facebook before the parade started.
Oh maybe I am not that whimpy, but I sure wish mom were her to kiss my forehead. I know I don't have a fever, but somehow that always made me feel better. Maybe if I lay my head down, it will all be over soon and I can be home, in California!
As always squirt, I love you!