My Testimony
The rain is gone, and so is the pain My church-raised, impoverished, Dustbowl and Depression-era father met and fell in love with an unchurched, silver-spoon, cultured, petite, and pretty 19-year-old. My parents' posh 1948 wedding occurred in mom’s backyard, and 4 years later they had their first of 6 children. They lived happily ever after. Well, not quite. Their unequally yoked marriage created simmering differences of opinion. I suspect those differences included opposing ideas about child-rearing, bringing upheaval in our home. Instead of level-headed discussions, my hard-working lawyer dad turned to alcohol while stay-at-home "trophy-wife" (mom) became distant and depressed. I was a middle child and invisible. I’d say I was raised, but actually I floated unsupervised through childhood. Neglect, semi-isolation, and dietary lack stunted my development and awareness, like being on the autistic spectrum. A border wall around our tight 2-story home kept secrets in and p...