She Has a Mind of Her Own

I have been told all my life that I have a mind of my own or that I’ve always had a mind of my own. It seems some people think that is a bad thing. I personally think it is a wonderful thing to be able to think for myself and make my own decisions.

I was born in Sturgis, South Dakota just in time for a number of events that are now part of the history of this country.

I lived in Rapid City, South Dakota until my mother moved us to Iowa after her divorce from her second husband.

One of my first memories is when I was 3 months old. I remember a babysitter that I had who used to listen to the radio and sing and dance in front of me. I don’t know why my brain decided to hang onto this memory, unless it was because my father had an affair with that babysitter and I may have connected that memory to the fact that my father left us and moved back to Iowa when I was about 1 year old.

When I was 4 years old, it seemed I had a knack for getting myself into trouble.

One day I decided that if my older brother could go to school, I should be able to go to school also. 

I walked down a steep hill called Signal Heights. There was no sidewalk that I remember. I think I must have walked along the shoulder of the road.

One of the teachers found me wandering around the hallway and asked me what I was doing. I told her that I was looking for my brother. He was very angry with me and embarrassed I think. The principal took us home in his VW Bug. 

My stepfather grounded me for two weeks for that adventure.

A few months later, I heard a train in the distance. I decided that I was going to go and catch that train. I grabbed my 2-year-old brother by the hand, said “Come on David, we’re going to catch a train,” and we headed down the sidewalk.

As we were nearing a busy intersection, a nice man, who was working in his yard, stopped us and asked where we were going.

“We’re going to catch a train,” I replied.

He started asking a lot of questions about my mother and father and offered us a glass of water. While we were drinking the water, his maid went into the house and called my mother at her workplace.

The nice man kept talking to us until my brother, a neighbor and his son arrived to take us home. I started screaming and throwing a fit. I didn’t want to go home. My neighbor spanked me a bit and then made me return home.

When I got home, my stepfather used one of his creative punishment methods. He made me kneel in front of him and confess my crime. Then he made me kneel in a corner for a while so I could think of what I had done. After he decided he had punished me long enough, he sent me to take a nap. I was awakened by him hitting me on the legs with a bamboo stick and saying, “Tell your mother what you did!”

It seemed that being punished never did stop me from doing what I wanted to do. Sometimes it just made me want to do it even more.

In the 1960s men rarely had long hair. On the television we were starting to see more and more men that had long hair, but they were usually from the U.K. I asked my mother about their hair and she told me that they probably wore wigs.

We had a neighbor who I saw one day. He had long hair. I went over and accused him, “My mother says that you guys wear wigs!”

He told me that it wasn’t a wig, and I could pull his hair to make sure, but not to pull too hard.

I thought he was trying to fool me and he probably had it glued on, so I grabbed a big handful and pulled him down to my level. He yelled and I found out that my mother isn’t always right.

During this time in our history, it was a time when a lot of people were fighting for equality.

We had a young family, who was African American, move in next door. They had two children, a boy and a girl who were the same age as my older brother and I. My brother and I would go over there a lot. We always had a great time. One of my fondest memories is doing the bunny hop and their father and mother laughing with us. It was a great day.

Then my stepfather told us that we couldn’t go over there anymore. I asked why and he made a comment that I won’t repeat here, but it wasn’t politically correct. I also remember looking at him and thinking that he was wrong.

I wasn’t going to church then. We didn’t start doing that until I was older, but I already knew that we are all the same. We want the same things. We want to be happy and we want to take care of our families and we want equality. There is no difference.

Later, when we were going to church and I learned a song, “Jesus Loves the Little Children.” I believed that what I had thought earlier in my life was correct. And I also figured out that it wasn’t just the children that he loved. He loves everyone, no matter what color, religion, background or gender. I also learned, we should Love our Creator, Love Others, Judge Not, and Help Those Who Can’t Help Themselves. That was enough for me.

Throughout my life, these principals have helped me a lot. I don’t believe what others say until I investigate for myself and when I do investigate, I usually find that what others have said is false, especially when it comes to statements they make about other people.

I thank my Creator that I do have a mind of my own and I will continue to use it the way I think I should and not allow others to tell me what I should think.

© Pamela Sawyer, 2012

Heal the Children, Heal the World

There is a lot of talk about what is wrong with the world and a lot of blame being thrown around. It’s them, it’s us, it’s the other guy, it’s the way of the world, and it’s our Creator’s fault. The only people who aren’t being singled out are the ones who are to blame. We are all the blame for the way the world is today. We should all step up and start taking responsibility for how we think, talk and treat others who may not be exactly like we are or believe what we believe. We should forget the differences and find what we have in common because I truly believe that we are all alike in many, many ways.

People like to say that we are born into an evil world. We are born into a sinful world. What a lie those two statements are. This world is evil and sinful only because we have made it that way.

How can we change the world? How can we heal the world? We need to start with ourselves first. We need to change ourselves first. We need to heal ourselves first. When we heal ourselves, we can start teaching the children better. Or maybe we should let the children teach us before they are ruined by all the violence and hatred that is around them every day. It has been said that the children are closer to heaven and our creator and that is true I think. You can see it in their eyes and you can see it in their smiles.

How do we heal ourselves? We start by healing our own child within. We all have a child within us and many of us have a wounded child that feels like they were never loved or understood. The child within is our very soul I think. When we can go within ourselves and heal that part of ourselves, we can begin to form a better world.

I spent many years studying various topics and psychology was one of those fields I studied. I read every book I could find on the subject. I have to admit that I prefer M. Scott Peck and Carl Jung to others who write about psychology. But that is my own personal preference because I feel they have helped me the most in my quest to understand myself and try and understand the past and some of the pain that I have carried with me for so many years.

Through the years I have felt that our Creator has led me on this path so maybe I could heal myself and maybe one day I could write about it here and now so I could help others who have suffered in life. We all suffer. No matter what anyone thinks, even behind a smile there is suffering many times. You can see it in the eyes.

I have also had dreams that I have remembered all my life. Those dreams have also been a part of my healing and a gift that I have received.

When I was 5 years old I had a dream that I was in a car with my mother. We were on a steep hill in Rapid City where I lived at the time. My mother was sitting in the passenger seat and I was trying to steer the car from the backseat. The car was swerving all over the place and I was doing my best to try and keep it from going over the edge of the road. I remember looking at my mother, who was sitting serenely in the passenger seat, not bothered at all and thinking, why am I driving? I’m just a kid.

Our lives have seemed like a bit of a joy ride by a 5-year-old. Things have seemed very out of control and I have felt that I had a lot of responsibility put on me even at a young age. But things have settled down through the years, all thanks to our Creator and I think my family is beginning to heal bit by bit.

When I was about 7 years old I had a dream that I was in a room that felt safe. There was a bed and a closet. I was sitting in the bed dressed in a white gown. The room was all white and there was a beautiful light in the room. I don’t remember if there was a door, but I remember windows that were up high in near the ceiling.

I heard someone calling my name. I had to jump on the bed to see out the window. I saw one of my brothers and my mother’s second husband outside in a park we used to go to all the time. They were both calling my name and looking for me.

I’ve wondered what that dream meant all these years and the meaning finally came to me a few days ago.

My mother’s second husband and my brother made my life hell. They both abused me in different ways and in similar ways for years. After my mother divorced her husband, my brother continued the abuse for many more years. It was like they were both trying to destroy me. But there was a part of me that was always safe in that room.

There was a part of me that our Creator protected all those years and I believe that we all have a part of us inside that has been kept safe. We just need to start going inside and let the healing begin.

I thank our Creator that he kept that part of me safe. If he hadn’t, I don’t know what would have happened to me.

Through the years I made mistakes and I suffered and struggled through, trying to find my way back to myself.

Through the books I’ve read and some therapy, prayer and some wonderful alone time I have spent with my friend, my heart, my love, my Creator, I have learned how to look within myself and begin to heal the pain that I have been carrying around for so many years.

Some other dreams I have had are about my own healing. The first dream came when I was 36 and I was living in New York. I had just finished another bad relationship and I had a dream that the guy was squatting down in a corner, glaring at me. There was a little girl there, my little girl, my wounded child, who said, “Daddy doesn’t love me.” The woman that I was then, held that little girl in her arms and told her, “That’s okay, because I love you.”

That was the beginning of my healing. Another thing that helped me to begin healing was something someone told me one day. She said, “It wasn’t your fault. You were a child. The adults were supposed to be taking care of you.”

I believe those of us who have suffered so much and even those who may not think they have suffered carry that wounded child with us. I also believe that our Creator can heal all wounds.

Some may argue about this. I know there will be a few or maybe there may be many. There always are those who don’t want to look at themselves. But if you look into the eyes of people around you and really listen to the people around you, you can see that wounded child. Many people who are near the end of their lives and have lived long lives carry that wounded child. I can see the pain in my mother’s eyes sometimes. I can hear it in her voice when she reacts to something that I have said or my brother has said. I can also see it in the eyes of other people in my family and I see it in in the eyes of some of the strangers I have met through the years.

If we stop focusing on the world outside of us and blaming the world and everyone else around us for all the problems, if we start taking responsibility and really take a look at ourselves, then we can begin the heal ourselves. Then we can begin to heal our world and then we can raise better children and make a better world for future generations.

This has been my hope, this is still my hope and it is a dream that I think can be realized if we all stop fighting among ourselves and start loving each other and forgiving each other the way our Creator forgives us and loves us.

© Pamela Sawyer, 2012

I Think I Know How Our Creator Feels

We are like children. It doesn’t matter how old we get, it seems we still act like children when it comes to our prayers.

Our Creator gives us His love; He gives us what we need. It isn’t enough for us. We want more. We treat Him like an ATM machine or Santa Claus. We want Him to give us things instead of trying to form a true loving, lasting friendship with Him.

Then, when He doesn’t answer our prayers the way we think He should answer our prayers, we go off mad and pout like the spoiled children that were are.

“Fine, if you won’t give me what I want, I will not talk to you!”

When we get punished, we are shocked and hurt. Then we start crying, “Why did you do this to me? Have mercy!”

I have a friend who has shown this to me recently and I thank our Creator for the lesson. I know that our Creator gives me what he knows is best for me. He takes care of me. He gives me what I need. And sometimes, He even gives me my heart’s desire. I pray that I can keep this lesson in my heart and forever be grateful for all the good things that He is doing in my life and all the good things he has done in the past. And when trials do come, as they will, I pray that I will see the lesson and not feel like I’m being punished.

Every day has its own trials and tests and I pray that I can keep my eyes on His love and the lessons He brings me and stop thinking about the rest.

© Pamela Sawyer, 2012