A True Friend

     Watching our sons play in the backyard I stood talking with a good friend from church.  Our boys were born the very same day -- November 26th.  At two and a half the boys were as different as night and day.  Alison's son was short in stature and physically coordinated.  Jeremy was taller, but less coordinated.  And try as hard as he could, Matthew just couldn't seem to get Jeremy to play with him.  Instead Jeremy ran around the yard waving broken branches he'd picked up from the ground which was typical behavior for him. 

     With a slight pause, Alison gently asked me,  "Kathy, have you ever thought of autism when you watch Jeremy play?"   Inside my mind screamed, "Yes", but to Alison I said,  "No.  My doctor says Jeremy is just fine and that he's just a late bloomer."  The awkwardness descended and I left soon thereafter.  And I hardly talked to my friend, Alison, for another two years. 

     It wasn't that I didn't like Alison.  Actually, I liked her alot.  But she knew my secret -- a secret that I hadn't been able to accept myself -- that Jeremy just might have a very real problem.  And I couldn't face the thought that someone else might guess my terrible fear.  So I put Alison on a shelf and left her there for quite some time.

     A couple of years later we did have Jeremy tested.  And sure enough, he was diagnosed with autism.  This was in the early 90's when not that many children were being diagnosed with autism so I don't fault my pediatrician -- too much.  But when Jeremy was finally diagnosed I remembered back into my past of all those times when others after Alison had tried to talk with me, including God.

     Later, when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, my friend Alison called to ask if she could come by.  Although I felt sheepish for ignoring Alison the past couple of years, I also knew that Alison cared about me.  So we made plans for a short visit.  On the day of our scheduled visit, I'd received phone calls from several doctors urging me to start chemotherapy due to the aggressive nature of my cancer.  No one was at home with me that day and I started to panic.  Alison called earlier than expected, listened, then said she was on her way over right then and there.  What a blessing it was to have Alison with me on the very day when I needed someone to cry with.  We prayed and cried together, and I was able to say that I was sorry for leaving our friendship behind.  Without batting an eye my friend said,  "That's okay.  I understood.  And you're still my good friend =)"

     God provided me with this one friend who wasn't afraid to come forward with the truth -- in love and gentleness.  She was willing to sacrifice our friendship knowing that someone needed to speak the truth to me in love.  And God used Alison to minister to me in a very profound way =)  To this day I consider Alison one of my very good friends.  I know that she will be straightforward with me -- and gentle when needed.  My only hope is that I can be that sort of friend to my friends. 

Abortion Recovery

    "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.  In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight."  -- Proverbs 3: 5-6  

          The year was 1986.  Much had changed since 1976.  Vices like drinking and smoking had given way to studying and serious living.  I was in my senior year of college (second time around) about to finish with a nursing degree.  Somehow I managed to finish undergraduate school with social work and sociology degrees -- and was now finishing a degree in nursing.  For the first time in a long time I felt relaxed and more at peace with myself and even excited for my new career as a nurse. 

Then I met the man who would help to heal my wounded heart.

     Rick and I were instantly attracted to one another and married one year later.  He was someone who knew my past and loved me anyway.  We lived an exciting life together those first couple of years.  Then along came Megan, our firstborn daughter, and a trip to Hawaii with my family that ultimately changed both our lives.  Because Rick credited God with saving his life from a dangerous rip-tide, we headed back to church.  Neither of us had been seriously involved in church for many years, but Rick wanted to dedicate his life to God in gratitude for saving his life.  (See 'Lost At Sea" blog for details.) 

      As a wife and mother, I can now see that I worked hard to earn God's love and a place in heaven someday.  I was a mother of two children less than five years of age, one of whom was showing signs of developmental delay. And seemingly overnight, I morphed into a helicopter mother -- hovering nearby in a desperate to prevent bad things from happening to those I loved. I strove to be the perfect mother.  It was a terrible stress to my body and mind. 

     If anyone asked about my thoughts on abortion, I said that I was pro-choice.  And there I remained for several years -- while attending church, teaching Sunday school and participating in bible studies.  Remember, I'd pushed the memories from the abortion into the deepest recesses of my mind. And, I needed to justify my decision to have the abortion.

     Then came Jeremy's diagnosis of autism along with my diagnosis of breast cancer later that same year.  God now had my complete attention and I was powerless to do much besides fight the cancer with surgery and chemotherapy.  I could no longer trust in just myself.  I trusted my doctors to help pick the right treatments, but soon knew that I needed to trust God even more.  

Six months later I finished surgery and chemotherapy -- and found myself dealing with life issues once again.  With a fresh perspective on life I began to think deeply about myself and my past.  No longer content to just do, I began to focus on who I was and why I was still here on this earth.  I'd heard about a bible study for women who'd had abortions. Maybe I should register for this study.

     I finally went through the eight-week study with four other women about a year after finishing treatment for cancer.  I learned about myself and discovered truths I'd not known.  For the first time I began to realize that I had never really forgiven myself.  For so many years I'd squelched all those feelings and memories of the abortion down to the very depths of my being.  I vaguely remembered shutting out the memories the very night of my abortion because they were just too painful to deal with.  But now those memories and feelings were surfacing -- like a teapot bubbles to the boiling point when the heat is turned up.  For years my grief had simmered deep inside, but now rose to the surface.  My grief needed to be examined and explored.  My recovery was slow, but steady, from then on.

     I wish I could tell you that I had it altogether.  It's been many years since I finished that bible study and I am still 'unfinished business'.  I liken our growth and healing to that of peeling an onion.  It seems like God peels one layer at a time.  Each peel is painful, but necessary for growth. 

     There are several resources available to those who have experienced abortion in some fashion.  And there are symptoms of post-abortion that are common to many.  Everyone's journey is very different so it's not fair to expect another who's dealt with an abortion to have the same walk.  We are varied and diverse.  Below I have listed some of the best resources for those wanting or needing to heal and recover. Here are some of the best resources:    
   
     Advice & Aid Pregnancy Center - http://www.adviceandaid.com/ 
     Ramah International - http://www.ramahinternational.org/
     Forgiven and Set Free - A Post-Abortion Bible Study For Women
     Healing A Father's Heart - A Post-Abortion Bible Study For Men
     Rachel's House - A Pregnancy Resource Center - http://www.rachelhouse.com/

     

        
    

Sixteen & Unexpectedly Pregnant (cont.)

      "For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels or demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."  Romans 8:38-39

     There were several of us sitting in recliner chairs that cold winter morning in February 1975.  All around I heard murmurs from others in various stages of recovery from their abortions.  Beside me sat a young 20-something woman.  "First time?" she asks,  "Don't worry.  It gets easier with each one."  I know that she's talking about abortion even though she doesn't actually say the word.  Close by another young girl is sniffling quietly. 
  
    "Whatever have I done?" I ask myself.  For the first time in my life I feel completely alone and empty inside.  No longer do I have the joy of a living being inside my tummy.  The thought crosses my mind,  then, "I've made a terrible mistake" -- one that will have long-term consequences for me, I think.  I grown inwardly and turn onto my side.  (Away from God?) I hurt physically and mentally.

     Within the hours I am dressed and driving home with my mother in silence.

     All day I rest in my bedroom with the shades drawn and door shut. I just want to be left alone.  Music is softly playing from my stereo system. Silent tears fall onto my pillow.  My younger sister checks in on me.  She doesn't understand.  Judy only knows that I've had some sort of procedure and am very sad.  Soon, though, I resolve to move along with my life.  As quickly as turning off water from a faucet, my heart shuts out the pain.  

     No one talks to me about the abortion on this day -- or in the days that followed.  We all carry on as if nothing unusual has happened.  My parents sent me to see a counselor.  Jerri was youthful, energic and, anorexic.  She was helpful, and, more importantly, affirmed my choice to abort.

     That night I call the love of my life, the guy who had professed undying love for me and had stood by and silently encouraged my abortion. My boyfriend has gone on a date.   "How could he do this to me!" I fume.  "After all I've gone through for him!"   Crushed, alone, and feeling utterly despondent, I weep bitter tears -- not only for the loss of my baby, but for the loss of life I'd known before my pregnancy.  Nothing was the same -- nor would it ever be.

     Our relationship struggles for the next several months.  We argue, break-up and then reunite every couple of weeks.  I begin to diet in an effort to lose the 'baby weight', convinced I am "fat".  I lose more than 20 pounds before the end of our junior year in high school.  This is the first clue that I am feeling out of control.

     By the end the schoolyear I felt betrayed, used and utterly worthless.  Something in my heart clicked.  No more, I think to myself.  I vowed that no one would ever have the chance to hurt me like this ever again.  My hardened heart grew bitter as I began to plan for the final break-up.

     School ended and so did my relationship.  And, that's when my life began to spin out-of-control.  Drinking helps to dull my anxieties and feelings of self-worthlessness.  Smoking cigarettes helped me control my weight. I didn't feel pretty anymore.  The difference in my sophomore and junior school photographs tell the story.  My eyes look sad.

     Our senior year is a blur.  I graduate and plan to attend KU that fall.  And when I reach the campus, my life really begins to crumble and fall apart.  I found myself spiraling into an eating disorder.  My life was completely out-of-control.  I ran away to California for three days only to return defeated.

 My heart felt wounded and battered.  My belief in God was still there, but I no longer pray to Him for support.  I reasoned that my abortion and subsequent rebellion had set me apart.  There was now a rift between God and me that could never be reconciled -- or so I thought.












    

Sixteen and Unexpectedly Pregnant

     For months I have agonized on when/if I should share this story.  It is one of my most painful stories to share.  But it is necessary not only to share with those who read my blogs, but also to young women like my granddaughter(s) who may find themselves or a friend in a similar situation.  I pray that this story touches the very core of your hearts and gives others the courage to stand strong in our present day world of sexual freedom. 

     On a frigid morning in February, I was sitting in a wood paneled room with at least 15 other women.  The green shag carpet reflected the time period -- 1975.  I anxiously scanned the room.  "Who are these girls?"  I wondered.  I was surprised that there were so many of us.    Presently a young-looking nurse in all white opened the door to call out a name.  We coughed, we squirmed, but mostly we sat quietly staring at nothing.  A few engage in idle chatter.  But most of us quietly sat, waiting for our names to be called.  I noted that we were in an office basement with just one small window - waiting to see the doctor.   I shivered with cold and anxiety.  

        There were, perhaps, three or four males sitting with either their girlfriends or wives.  My boyfriend is not with me.  Although my mother sits beside me, I feel desperately alone.  Then, I startled to the sound of my name by a nurse in the doorway….

     As a young 15 year old I fell deeply in love with a fellow classmate.  He became the center of my being and my reason for living.   We were inseparable except when working our various jobs.  Summers were the best as we could spend even more time together.  It was the summer between tenth and eleventh grade that I freely gave a part of me that had remained mine until that moment.  I was never the same, thereafter.

     After sex, I felt dirty and unclean.  Our dates were no longer fun and innocent.  Time with my boyfriend was laced with unspoken trysts and deep inner turmoil.  We struggled over the next several months -- broke-up often, only to return to one another for solace and refuge.  Then the unspeakable happened. 

     At first I wasn't too shaken.  "I couldn't possibly be pregnant," I reasoned.  Up to that point I'd only seen one teenage pregnant girl.  She rode our school bus to school until the day she delivered a healthy baby.  I remember that this girl was stoic and seemingly indifferent to the eyes of judgment from others.  "No, I can't be like her!"  I groaned to myself.  As the days ticked by I became more and more anxious.  I worried that my classmates suspected my possible pregnancy.    

     My boyfriend was at least willing to go with me to see the school counselor with me.  After sharing our concerns, the counselor offered the telephone number of a women's health clinic in Kansas.  "They should be able to help you," Mr. Smith said with a gentle smile.  The two of us, my boyfriend and I, pledged our undying love to one another, and I made plans to call this health center.

     And I did.  Within a week I was sitting in the offices of Comprehensive Health For Women waiting for the results of a pregnancy test.  "No, you're not pregnant ... at least our test doesn't show a positive response, yet," the aide informed me.  Another week went by.  By now I was feeling queasy, especially in the mornings, and my body showed other signs of pregnancy.  Again, I traveled to the center for a 2nd pregnancy test.  After waiting for what seemed an eternity, the aide delivered the news with no visible emotion. "You are pregnant."

      Before too long I was sitting in a small cubicle with a counselor.  Much is lost from my memory except for these few words, "We can help you with your problem.  No one needs to know."   Her words resounded in my soul.  "We can help you with your problem.  No one needs to know," to which I mentally added,..." like my friends at school." 

     Now I realize that very little counseling was actually done.  We didn't talk about the growth & development of this tiny being inside my tummy.  I think the option for adoption was discussed, but I wasn't really interested.  (What would my friends think?!)  And I didn't hear much about the risks & drawbacks associated with abortions.  I wish I'd been informed that I could hear the heartbeat very early into pregnancy and that fully formed features could be seen by an ultrasound.  It might have made a difference for me.  But I only saw one escape path -- and abortion, fast and easy.

     I was looking for quick relief, an escape from the consequences of my behavior.  To be able to finish high school and continue to college unscathed was my ultimate desire.  It didn't help that I no longer had the support of my boyfriend unless I opted for an abortion.  My parents just wanted what they thought was best for me -- for me to be able to go to college without having to go through a pregnancy as an unmarried single sixteen year old.   I felt alone -- and really scared.  Part of me was excited to have a little being growing inside my belly, the other part of me was very scared to face the consequences of this unexpected surprise.  

     In subsequent years I blamed everyone else for the predicament I was in.  Only with time would I learn and accept that I, alone, was the one who had to live with the consequences of my own choosing.  I freely gave away that part of myself that could have been saved for my husband.  I neglected safety measures that might have prevented a teenage pregnancy.  And ultimately, I made the decision to abort as a quick and easy means to get rid of an unwanted problem. 

Many Hats, One Person

     Walking into the classroom with a peculiar lop-sided gait, the slight, 30-something young man exuded confidence.  Reaching a wooden podium in the center front of the room, he laboriously rested his elbows and leaned forward as if to impart a secret to those of us sitting in his classroom.  "My name is Paul and I am honored to be teaching you Normal Psychology,"  he said with the distinctive pattern of one who has cerebral palsy.  I found Paul a little difficult to understand, but I knew from the twinkle in his eye that this would be a fun class.

     The summer session classes at SMSU were more relaxed.  Most of the students, including me, took classes in the morning in order to have their afternoons free.  This class was an early one -- 7:30 and I was not happy about it.  But I chose to suffer so that I could hang with my friends later.  As the summer passed by I began learning alot from Paul.  Not only was he witty, but he was someone who connected with his students.  And I learned one very profound lesson from this psychology professor...

     Paul told us that he held a masters degree in psychology, but was scheduled to begin law school in the fall.  Then he told us that he might consider going to medical school later in life.  The words he spoke resounded in my heart for some reason.  Even today I can hear my professor saying,  "I can change my profession and pathway in life at any time in life.  Just because I'm a psychology professor now doesn't mean I'll be one in ten or twenty years.  Be what you want to be -- at anytime throughout your life! ...I intend to!"

     Now that I'm 54 years old I look back at my chosen pathways to see if I did as my professor said to do.  Did I wear many different hats throughout the years?  Well, for awhile I interned as a social worker, then proceeded to work as a waitress on the Plaza for several years.  As a twenty-five year old I launched into nursing school and found myself working at Children's Mercy Hospital for awhile.  Along the way I dabbled in a few activities like becoming a Creative Memories consultant.  Mostly, though, I raised children and worked as a nurse just one day a week.  Most recently I quit nursing altogether to work alongside Rick with Integrity Resource Center -- I call myself a Project Manager.  Who would've thought that I'd work in the business realm!?  Certainly not me.  Yes, I would say that I've worn many different hats in my lifetime.

     The point is that we can change our positions in life if/when we feel called to do so and really want to.  I believe that God calls each of us to differences places depending upon His will for us at that time.  So for now I will wear my business hat -- and maybe my next season will see me doing something entirely different.  I hope so!  Wearing different hats is what makes life exciting for me =)

Lost At Sea

     "Where is Rick?" I wondered aloud.  Sitting with my sister and her husband on beautiful Poipu Beach on the island of Kauai, I scanned the horizon for Rick.  He'd been boogie-boarding with my brother-in-law who had long since returned.  Tom complained to us that the waves were "pretty big" and had grown tired from fighting the undertow.  "Where is Rick?" I asked, again.

     In August of 1990 our family went to Hawaii with my parents, my sister and her husband.  Megan was just six months old.  On this particular day, Rick, Judy, Tom and I went to the beach while my parents stayed with Megan at the beach house.  We'd enjoyed our time on Kauai, especially swimming and snorkeling in the crystal blue waters.  Today, however, the waves were larger and more active.  Lots of people were playing in the water, though, so I wasn't concerned -- until I couldn't seem to find Rick in the midst of all the people and boogie boards. 

    (Rick) One day after mountain biking for four hours on the island of Kauai my brother-in-law and I went boogie boarding (a miniature surfboard) in the ocean.  One minute I was floating next to my brother-in-law and several other surfers, the next minute, I was all alone wondering what had happened to everyone.  As I tried to swim back towards shore, it soon became evident that I was caught in a riptide.

     Poipu Beach is shaped like a crescent.  Soon I was walking along the shore peering intently for signs of Rick.  He wore red swim shorts so I instinctively found myself looking for spots of red.  Each time I turned to complete another walk along the beach my apprehension grew and my pace increased.  "Where is he?!" I muttered to myself.  Judy and Tom, seeing my concern, joined in the search for Rick. 

     (Rick) After about 45 minutes in the hot sun and several renditions of singing ‘Gilligan’s Island’, realization set in that I was not a good enough swimmer to swim the mile or more to shore. I began to panic.  In order to make one final effort to swim unrestricted I unstrapped the boogie board from my wrist. Suddenly from behind, the first wave ever crashed over me.  As I came up sputtering my boogie board was sailing through the air more than 50 yards away.  I had to have my  board to survive,  I thought, so I panicked and began to swim towards the board,...and my legs began to cramp with tremendous pain. 

     It occurred to me that I needed binoculars to better scan the horizon for my husband, so I briskly jogged to the nearest hotel to get help.  Asking for binoculars I explained to a lifeguard that my husband couldn't be seen from the shore.   He started moving pretty fast when I said my husband had been lost for almost an hour.  For the first time, I grew scared.  The lifeguard called for an "inflatable" so that he could go out into the water to look for Rick.

            (Rick)  That was it, I was done, my spirit was broken, and all of my props in life were gone.  “Lord, I cried, I know you haven’t heard from me in many years, but I need your help.”  I did not fully understand how or why, but I knew God was there listening to me, but I did not sense that he was yet ready to answer. 

            My focus soon turned from my pain, to fear for the future of Kathy and Megan.  I cried out again, “Lord if you take my life now who will raise my daughter and love my wife?”  It was at that point that I felt the peace of God.  I did not know if God was going to spare me or not, but I knew that either way he would take care of my family.  I suddenly had the peace and confidence to trust in God.  “Lord if you are going to take my life now, please do it quickly”,  I prayed. 

      With the hope that our search would soon include others with binoculars and a boat, I returned to the beach.  Again, I restlessly paced along the beach -- scanning the horizon.  "Where is Rick?" I bemoaned to myself.  It suddenly occurred to me that Rick might actually have been pulled out to the ocean by the strong undertow.  And I thought of the tiger sharks that are so prevalent in the waters of Hawaii.

     (Rick) At that very moment I was struck by a huge wave that drove me under the water.  Somersault after somersault was forced upon my body, until my lungs felt as though they would surely burst!  This is the end I thought.  When I came up, I gasped quickly for air and then, I was hit again by another wave. The third time this happened, I came up to calm water.  I could see the beach way off in the distance and two young boys on a surf board.  With the last strength I could muster I yelled for help and then slumped into the water.  Moments later these two boys pulled me from beneath the water and paddled me back to shore.

        Making another turn-around, I glanced towards the beach just in time to see Rick walking unsteadily towards the shore with two young teenagers.  "Where have you been?!" I exploded.  "I have been so worried about you!  Why did you stay in the water for so long!?"  If I had been more observant I would've noticed that Rick looked very sun-burned and obviously exhausted.  And he was without the boogie-board which was quite expensive to rent.   Without much fanfare, Rick said simply,  "When we get home, we are going to find a church.  There is a God and He saved my life today."   After hearing Rick's story I sheepishly apologized for my angry outburst. 

      I have a picture of Rick cuddling with Megan taken just a few short hours after this event.  He looks fatigued, but happy and at peace with himself.  Rick was never the same, again.  He began studying the bible and learning more about how to live his life for God.  We began attending a church several months later -- and he has had the opportunity to share this story many times.  One thing, though, ... Rick never saw those two boys, again.  We both wonder if they realized what a big role they played in Rick's rescue that day in Kauai.

My Run To California

     As a freshman at the University of Kansas I was miserable.  Actually I had been mostly miserable the entire year.  Now, at the start of the third quarter, I seemed to feel the worst.  I lived in one of the more colorful dorms, Oliver Hall, with a roommate from high school and was one of the few students not from Johnson County, Kansas.   Pictures of me during this time show a young woman with a Farrah Fawcett haircut and confident features.  But inside I was a mess of insecurities and awkwardness.  I wasn't really ready for college but I'd gone because it was what seemed best at the time.  My major was psychology and I wanted to join the peace corps after graduation. 

     It had been an awful year.  I'd been two-timed by someone I thought I loved, lived with an out-going roommate who had lots of dates, was insecure and felt incredibly alone.  For one brief moment I had hopes that  things had changed for the better.  I'd recently been baptized as an adult and become a 'born-again Christian'.  But old ways of coping with life soon reemerged.  Soon I was drinking and living even more wildly with reckless abandon.  Hoping to join a sorority so that I could 'fit in' and have a more active social life, I went through Greek rush during the winter break.  No sorority asked me to join so I was feeling pretty worthless and abandoned.  Life was just plain ugly.  "Alone, Again, ... Naturally" sang Gilbert O'Sullivan.  His words fit my mood perfectly.

     Looking for an escape I thought of running away.  For one brief moment I envisioned flying to sunny California where the beaches were beautiful and love was in the air --  I wanted to be one of those girls wearing flowers in their hair while dreamily walking along the beaches with friends.  "It Never Rains In California", a song by Albert Hammond, told me all I needed to know.  Visions of hippie-togetherness ran through my mind as I hurriedly began making plans for my escape.

     I had $500 in my savings account and cute clothes.  What more would I need, I wondered.  I pictured myself finding work as a waitress at a beachside restaurant and settling into life in paradise.  Soon I was driving my parent's green station wagon to the Kansas City airport at breakneck speed all set to began a strange three-day journey in hopes of finding peace and love.  Sitting on the airplane before take-off, I began to feel the first pangs of fear.  "What have I done?"  I murmured to myself.  And when the plane finally settled on the tarmac of San Diego's airport, I really began to question the maturity of running away alone.  "Am I nuts!?" I thought to myself.

     Naturally I went to the one place where we'd stayed during a family vacation in 1973.  It was a nice resort called The Dana Inn located just a mile from the California coastline.  Taking a taxi from the airport to the Dana Inn, I disembarked feeling nervous and scared.  I'd not taken the time to make reservations ahead of time so I considered myself extremely lucky to be able to book a room at this facility.  There was a little restaurant about a quarter of a mile away so I knew I'd have a place to eat.  And Seaworld was close by, too, although I was too afraid to go there by myself.  I had enough money for about one week.

     The funny thing, though, was that I rarely ventured from my room.  Not only had I forgotten to pack things like shampoo and deodorant, but I also hadn't counted on how scary it is to walk unknown streets as a lone 19-year-old.  I did venture to the beach one afternoon, but after seeing tough and burly beach bums hanging around, I stayed for a mere 20 minutes before skedaddling across the bay back to The Dana Inn.  And eating alone was not an option, either.  I sensed people looking at me with pity.  "Poor girl.  Doesn't she have any friends?"

     Humbly I called my parents -- collect.  "Mom, Dad.  I'm in California."  My mother was crying, but Dad was pretty matter-of-fact.  "When will you be home?  Do you have money?  Where are you staying?" he questioned.  Without much fanfare I informed my dad that I'd be home in a few days and asked if he'd pick me up at the airport.  I don't remember much about the arrangements, but I suspect my dad bought my return airline ticket.  And my sister picked me up at the airport wanting to know all about my exciting escapade.  She also told how angry and sad my parents really were.  I felt awful for having disappointed them -- and myself.

     Upon returning from my runaway adventure, my parents had serious questions for me.  I shared  how miserable I'd been at college and, I was encouraged to find that my parents would support me despite their disappointment with my behavior.  They encouraged me to return to finish my last semester at K.U., and gently suggested that I transfer to a smaller university in Missouri (which is where I was from).  I did just that, although it wasn't easy to return to my KU friends who had lots of questions about my experience.  The rest of the school year was just as penetratingly lonely and empty as the first semester, but I did try to make the best of it.  Truth be told, I was way too immature to be able to handle a university setting.  I was still wrestling with internal issues stemming from poor choices made in high school (but, that's for another blog). 

     What I learned is that problems don't disappear when you run from them.  My insecurities and pains came with me to California -- and returned with me days later.  I spent a lot of money and learned only that the grass isn't always greener in other places.  And I learned that I, too, was only human.  For all my bravado, inside I was still  Kathy who needed and wanted to be around people.  I  just wasn't ready to live alone in this great big world.  The songs of the 70's made life as a flower child seem more exotic than life really was.  I learned that life is what is happening at the moment, wherever we are in the present.  We have choices and it is maturity and wisdom that help us to make wise decisions. 

     Whenever I hear a 70's song about living a free life in California, I smile.  Freedom is here and now.  I just didn't know it back then.