gimpy mutts skin

SYNOPSIS OF PART II
“BEAUTY FOR ASHES”
(The Healing of Valerie Jo Continues)
A Collection of Writings
From Valerie Jo’s Manuscripted Autobiography Book Series
Part II Beauty for Ashes (The Healing Continues) is demonstrating the acting out as an adult
what was programmed into me as a child. This is exactly what we grown ups are experiencing
from day to day as we attempt to make it through this life the best we know how, while every
step we take there is a crying, wounded, orphan child within who is begging to be heard and
healed. In this Part II Introduction I want to lay a foundation of understanding for you which is
the core meaning of healing. Healing for all of us is the purpose for my story. We’re ALL
dysfunctional ~ Yes, producers and directors, actresses and actors; presidents and C.E.O.s of
empires. We all produce and direct and act out our life the best we can, but the bottom line is:
we all are wounded, and we all are looking for healing and freedom, however, there is an option
to “faking it”, and I have gone through the wars and won the battles, and pressed on into my
victory in order to help individuals like you find their way to freedom.
If we are going to be able to come to that place of complete fulfillment in this life, we all need to
take an intrinsic assessment of our earliest beginnings to find the root cause of our dysfunction,
and then go to the options we have for learning and understanding the knowledge of the truth
that will set us free. There is a truth that is the highest form of reality that exists, and this is our
plumb-line for guidance; what we do with that truth will determine where we go from here. Its
hard work… but the rewards are everything we always dreamed of… and more. The depth in
which a person has to plummet in order to uncover hidden, painful places in the darkness of their
soul can be overwhelming and traumatizing-ly frightening. Struggling to survive can last for
only so long, and then like any mutated thing, the constant wounds soon become scars, and
hardness of heart sets in, and this manifests in pretending. Freedom always comes through a
battle and a great price paid, and the quest for freedom can be blocked and hindered at every
turn. Most give up the war, and instead pursue the elusive butterfly of false hopes and happiness.
The costumes we wear and the facades we put up to hide our pain are most times taken by others
as our true character, when the opposite of what they see is who we really are. In my story I live
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out your life and mine, and our yearning for freedom cries a loud from chapter to chapter. Part II
takes you through a time of discovery: that having joy in living is impossible when unknown
fears have not been uncovered, dealt with and conquered.
Within my story, the struggles in finding a way, or making one, kept me mercilessly and
persistently searching for solutions to that dull, persistent pain in my heart: that yearning for a
purpose to my life, someone to love me, and a hope that would never disappoint me, nor ever die
and leave me alone again. Sometimes my fear of people and the hurtful circumstances they
bring with them leave me in a heap of despair, whimpering in the silent cries of one more
humiliating rejection, one more degrading loss of dignity, one more heart breaking betrayal.
Then, suddenly out of what seems like nowhere arrives a subtle current of change. Just enough
to bring with it the strength to take the next step toward what I knew must be just around the
corner: relief from the pain. Could this be the final release from the tormentors of my soul?
Page by page, chapter by chapter, step by step you will progress along with me to witness the
sudden and drastic change which is one more part of the huge undertaking in the process of,
“The Healing of Valerie”, as this healing journey to my freedom continues on.
In telling my story in such a transparent way, I never wanted the emphasis to be strictly on me.
Pity was not what I was seeking. It was the empathy I have for others and the emotional
dysfunction they suffer (as well as the healing needed for myself) that has driven my passion to
seek for truth in finding wholeness, and peace of mind. I knew that in obtaining my freedom
from life’s bondages, I would also be discovering yours.
I have been so frustrated in the past trying to express to people how I interpret what I believe our
lives to be worth: It’s a treasure to be found and the greatest reservoir of personal wealth
imaginable and this invaluable treasure rightfully belongs to each one of us. Sadly, there are so
few that even realize this resource exists. They have been sold the lie all of their lives that they
have no more value to themselves and others than to merely do the best they can with the cards
they’ve been dealt in this life, and their damaged emotions gimp them on as they attempt to build
something useful for their life, not knowing they are using the wrong blueprint to get them there;
“Get all of the gusto I can, while I can, for tomorrow I may die.” Most believe this lie to be the
truth until the day they check out, never realizing what a wonderful plan and purpose had been
made well in advance for their life, from before they were born; an exact blueprint of them that is
one of a kind… a Master plan. Within this blueprint, every moment of everyday, every step has
been meticulously calculated. It’s so intimately detailed that every thought and desire was
seriously considered to be a valuable part of this unique individual’s ultimate fulfillment and
purpose. With precise accuracy every day has importance built within it, with all of the
significance one could ever imagine to embrace. Everyone has an opportunity to make a major
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positive contribution into the world they live in… and I want to help you. This is my quest and
the reason I was born.
My feelings, emotions and the way that I perceive true reality from a root level perspective
sometimes comes across as being too complex, confusing and is very much misunderstood by
the highly educated and profoundly intellectual adult individual, and especially those running
from their own pain. Perhaps they are all one and the same? A child has no way of expressing
where they are hurting in words… they just simply point to the “boo-boo” and cry, and their
tears of pain speak volumes to a caring adult. What life is all about is not a mystery at all. It
simply requires going back to the basics. A child-like mind, minus the childishness, is not a bad
thing at all. When the experiences of life are transformed into knowledge, knowledge is then
transformed into understanding, and understanding is in metamorphous to wisdom. This high
level of maturity is an oxymoron, as it holds within it the trusting elements of a child.
A person’s purpose in this life cannot be measured or be the result of education or a philosophy.
These things may contribute to the enhancement or magnification of the individual’s inherent
traits, but it does not fulfill the person’s quest for their true identity or individuality, which sets
them apart and makes them so unique. There never has been, and never will be again, another
you and me. This is why we cannot allow our life to be wasted. I refuse to pass through this life
and leave nothing. I want to live my life on purpose, where the quality moments I chose to live
overcome the years of waste and destruction. You see, time is on our side.
In trying to communicate such a simple concept, I thought perhaps I could get the point across if
I narrated my own life’s story, by acting out my own life’s experiences as a transparent example
of what I’m trying to say and want you to understand. My hopes are that this positive, lifechanging message will finally get across to those who are open enough and vulnerable enough to
hear it; this message simply being that... “God doesn’t make junk!” and “Nobody is a nobody.”
I have realized through this lengthy time of processing my life, that the basic needs of people are
universal, and the same emotional damages done through these lies about one’s self have exactly
the same negative effects as another’s, though… the intensity and the circumstances they
suffered from may be different. If we would only allow ourselves to become transparent for just
a moment in time, and compare notes with one another, we would find that our life stories
parallel. They are basically the same scenario. “It’s the same checkerboard, but a different
game,” so to speak. Reactions to the damages done within a person’s life may be handled
differently by each individual, yet their human needs are identical. Everyone alive is searching
for three things to fulfill their life: (1) Purpose, (2) Someone to love and care for them, and (3)
Hope.
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Most people will not discuss their pain with anyone because they’re so afraid to face it
themselves, and they care too much about what people will think of them if the dark-side is
exposed. Most people have no earthly idea who they really are, what they want, or where they
are going in life. Rich, poor, old, young, every race and religion are desperately trying to fill
huge gaps and voids in their soul that only the truth about themselves will satisfy. Band-Aids
won’t stop the bleeding from gushing arteries. Nothing can stop the bleeding, except for the
knowledge of the truth… put into action.
There is no substitute for the truth ~ there is never satisfaction in anything fake. Pretending to
“have it together,” people meander on down the same crooked road their parents took, following
a winding course to nowhere, drifting from one substitute or counterfeit to another, pretending
they’re happy and fulfilled, when in reality they are merely... the walking dead!
Our life is like a fine tapestry: There are black threads and there are gold and silver ones that
weave through and in between each thread (people, situations and circumstances that have
happened and that have formed us into what we are today). However, the black threads have the
potential of serving us in the greater way. A lot of benefit and a lot of mileage can be gained
from the darkest of times in which we’ve lived. All of our painful experiences don’t have to be
wasted; they can be recycled into something useful that will benefit humanity and possibly even
change the course of the world. These negatively programmed past experiences we all have had,
in actuality, are worth their weight in gold! You see, this is part of the treasure I speak of. The
darkness of our past becomes the backdrop for the glorious treasure of our future. Don’t you
see? Let me say it this way… “The blackest darkness we have ever lived can one day become
the brightest light we will ever walk in.” The best is yet to come!
On the other hand, there is the other sad side of this scenario. If we refuse to trust the only truth
that will deliver us, the blackness will eventually overtake, devour and consume instead, leaving
heartache and death rippling through everything we hold dear. Dysfunction or malfunction is a
vicious cycle that gets repeated over and over again, generation after generation until its vicious,
destructive chain of bondage is broken, once and for all!
There is a double standard out there, influencing everyone’s life on a moment-to-moment basis.
Everywhere you look there are so few black or white issues, but lots of gray areas and people are
confused, why? There is a tug-a-war going on here; there are two influences bidding for the
choices we make as free willed individuals. We are given an option at every given moment of
our lives to choose which of these two forces we will yield ourselves to. The one we submit to
will be instrumental in directing our life towards life or death decisions and issues. These
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decisions are not made for us as if we weren’t consenting adults. If you could choose good, then
why in the world would you choose evil? If you could live a happy, fulfilling life, why then
would a person choose to die a failure? If you could choose freedom like you’ve never dreamed
possible, then why would you choose to stay in bondage? Two opposite extremes exist and we
are here in the middle with a free-will mind to choose which way we will go.
The negative forces are very powerful, but they are limited to only being able to imitate the real
thing. Without a standard of truth at home in your heart, it is nearly impossible to distinguish the
difference between the real and the fake. Deception leaves a false impression and a false sense
of security every time. These negative forces use cheating influences like confusion and
deception to produce false security, false beliefs and negative thinking. Lies, lies, lies! The end
result for those who choose to yield to its mischievous and malignant pull is ultimately
destruction and death. Millions upon millions of gullible individuals blindly fall into hopeless
pits of darkness every day; naively opting for the traps set before them, because they do not
understand their option. They believe all along they’re moving in the right direction, believing
they’re receiving the true facts... the real thing, and yet, they’re only being deceived and end up
settling for the fake, like lambs being led to a slaughter. People are born and die every day
without ever finding out why they were created. Having been programmed for failure and
destruction, they choose to follow that plan to the grave. The manifestation of the dark side is all
through my story. There are demons lurking in hidden places, and once you’ve seen just a
glimpse of one they have becomes an invisible character in the story; just one of many you will
never forget…
The most Powerful of the two influencing forces is also the most misunderstood; the road to
deception is wide and the road to the truth is narrow, and so few find it. His voice is less than a
whisper and requires the trusting heart of a child to hear it. He speaks to those who are truly
seeking to follow His leading to the knowledge of the truth that will set them free. He is the
Creator of all things and understands every weakness we suffer. He was here, and He knows
what we suffer. He knows how to fix what He has made, and He is patient, compassionate and
full of tender, loving mercies when it comes to supporting every effort we exert... when we
choose to yield to His perfect will for our life. He realizes we are only human and that we are up
against the enemy of our soul at every turn. He provided for mankind a perfect way of escape
from every temptation and His purpose for His Creation is pure in every sense of the word. He
has not left us defenseless against the forces of darkness. It’s time we open our ears, eyes and
our hearts to the understanding that cries out from inside each and every one of us. He has what
we have needed all along to fill that emptiness nothing else will fulfill.
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When the movie The Passion was presented to the public we all witnessed the truth right before
our eyes. It could not be denied what we saw. We saw the media announce that multitudes and
multitudes thronged the theatres to witness a portrayal of an event that happened so long ago.
Could this be real, could it be true, and did this really happen to this man named Jesus? Was He
really the Son of God, and was that character lurking in the darkness to stop His purpose for
being here really… Satan? The effects of how this movie touched the heart of each one were
profound, and lives were changed, never to be the same again. After seeing the movie, most said
to me, “Didn’t you feel the unconditional love of God for you? You could actually feel it all over
your Being. It wasn’t religion; religion is only words… it was something I’ve never felt before,
and it fit every part of me.” However, as incredible as this movie was, there was also a lingering
question about the ending of this movie. Remember, Jesus was sitting on the slab in the tomb,
because He had risen from the dead. “What did that mean?” I hear many say. “I was
disappointed in the ending; they should do a sequel to the movie The Passion… I need to see the
end of the story. What happens next?” Yes, where is their answer? What was the reason for His
great love for mankind ending with Him rising from the dead? Do you know? I do ~ my story
pulls all of us into our own form of death to life experience.
Many people reading my story have already yielded results: my healing journey strangely
became theirs. There wasn’t one person from any walk of life that didn’t relate to something
within the story as they stepped in on the scene and relived each episode with me chapter by
chapter, year by year. They would tell me that as they were reading my story, they were taken
into it in such a way to where they were suddenly the character instead of me. However, when
the story line came to a part where there were beatings or rape, or other traumatic abuse was
taking place, they backed out and put me back into the story. We laughed together about how all
of that works and why. It opened a huge door for discussion. I have asked God if He would
please use my life (the good, the bad, and the ugly) as a representative example of what I have
been explaining to you through this narrative. My life story exemplifies just how drastically
one’s life can be changed for the better and used as an asset to benefit society instead of the
liability it had once been. In my story I believe that I have captured some of God’s heart and
manifested it in such a simple, non religious way that anyone can understand it. I wanted
everyone reading my life story to see Him in their own life, by observing Him walking so closely
in mine; even in the painful times He was there.
There is nothing like bona fide undiluted truth, freewheeling freedom, unshakable soundness,
and a fulfillment of the most pleasurable potential one’s life could ever dream of. No more
shame, no more guilt, no more fear, but instead, unwavering boldness, confidence, and pure
peace of mind. I desire to blow hope like seeds to others, and giving them encouragement that
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their life, too, has great meaning and purpose.
In closing, I reiterate: There is a growing hunger today in the hearts of mankind for real truth.
This hunger is increasing day by day as our world begins to crumble at our feet. This
misunderstood human race is beginning to ask again that same ancient question that has been
asked ever since Adam and Eve: Why was I born? Why have I suffered? Do I have a purpose?
Does anyone care? My thoughts are so concentrated on the subject of human behavior that I
have to have more faith to believe an individual is a hopeless case, than to believe that same
individual could amount to something great. I don’t have it within me to think mediocre. My
real self believes only for the sensational, knowing that I serve a perfect God who has a perfect
plan for every person He has ever created, and that there is no impossible situation in anyone’s
life that He has not already given a way of escape. It may seem radical to believe this way;
however, I truly feel that those who have suffered the most or seemed to be the most hopeless
cases (in man’s eyes) in actuality have the most potential (in God’s sight).
I have spent my life on this search for true freedom. Thirty one years of it has been poured into
sifting, processing, examining, researching, and then writing about these two influences and how
they have both affected my life. There have been consequences and a cost getting there as you
will see in my story; however, getting this story to others will make it worth the price I paid
personally. As I near the end of this race I long to pass on what I have learned to as many as will
listen. I believe every soul can be touched. I believe that it’s never too late to begin to live.
For those who truly desire to change for the better I believe there has to be a bridge built, a
stepping stone laid, a hand extended along the way. For every person making an honest decision
to alter their direction from the wrong way to the right, there should be those of us who have
been there and made it through to encourage and support them on their journey; with our arms
open wide we will welcome them in their brave decision to step out of the wrong direction they
were going, and we’ll praise their choice to press on to their finish line. We’ll offer a box of
first-aid bandages for when they fall, because they will. We need to cry when they cry from
feelings of exhaustion, to be their cheerleading team to “Rah!” them on. Then at the finish line,
we’ll welcome them to freedom, handing them their own box of first-aid bandages and tissues
for those they’ll help along the way. On the freedom side may we never forget where we’ve
been, and never, ever criticize those who are striving to get where we are...
REMEMBER THE COST!
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The definition of shame clearly identified and defined.

Shame includes an enduring negative self-image. No matter how many wonderful things
are happening in your life, no matter how many times you are complemented or
recognized, none of it means anything to you because of how you feel about yourself
inside.

Shame is highly "performance conscious." You always feel you are "on." You are so
anxious to please and to be needed that you measure your worth by what you can
produce, and wither or not that will give you value in the eyes of yourself and others. It’s
like chasing an elusive butterfly that can never be captured.

Shame makes you unaware of your personal boundaries. You're not sure who you are,
separate from someone else’s opinion or image of you; you're not sure where you "end"
and others "begin." You find it virtually impossible to stand up for yourself and say no.
It's easier to allow others to make decisions and choose for you. You reveal inappropriate
personal details of your life to people you have only recently met, in an attempt to feel
connected to someone, or… you don’t share at all for fear of becoming rejected and
shamed once again. You never feel safe with yourself, or with others.

Shame festers in people who are "wounded." Underneath the surface of your life, in the
core of your soul (mind, will and emotions) there is a wound that has never healed. You
nurse it and maintain it (most times subconsciously). You build a fortress (a shield)
around the wound for protection, and a false image of “The Pretender” gives you a sense
of identity, however, you know it’s not real, or normal. You alone hold your secrets, and
they are all locked up tight behind a guarded door deep inside your soul.

Shame flourishes in pervading tiredness. There is no place for joy in shame. This means
you are always tired and weighed down by life. Burdens overwhelm you more than most
people who don’t try nearly as hard as you do to find their place in this world. Inside you
envy them and you wonder, “What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I be free and happy like
others I see?” Shame has built in radar where you are acutely aware of everyone else’s
happiness and peace.

A sense of shame makes you overly responsible. You make it your job to ensure
everything is running smoothly and everyone else is happy, and maybe, just maybe
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someone will share some of that happiness you created for them, with you. But if they do,
can you receive it? The test is - will you feel worthy?

Shame makes you ignore your own needs like a martyr, or… you believe the world owes
you a living. Because shame tells you that you are no good, you seek to balance the
scales by ignoring your own legitimate needs, or… you are on constant demand, and
everyone owes you what they have to give. Attempts to please and appease others are
always more important than listening to and caring for yourself.

Shame tends toward addictive behavior(s), which can manifest itself in over involvement
in work, etc, etc, etc. You are so ashamed of yourself that you work harder and longer in
a desperate search for that elusive peace.

Shame has no concept of "normal." If you have grown up with unhealthy programming,
with dysfunction ally learned behaviors in your family, you perceive that to be the norm.
You lack the perspective to know what "normal" should look like. For example, if you
grew up with someone yelling in your face, that became familiar to you; you don't realize
it is unhealthy behavior you do not have to live with.

Shame makes it difficult to trust others. You tend to be very guarded around others,
wondering what their agenda is for your life. It is hard to let anyone in, because you're
sure that person will not like what she/he sees in you, both outward and inward. This
behavior can manifest in perfectionism and eventually border paranoia, or worse.

Shame makes you possessive in relationships. Out of a feeling of unworthiness and fear
of abandonment, you cling to the people in your life, afraid that if they leave no one will
be there to take their place. When this happens it reinforces that lying opinion of yourself
that says to you, “See, I knew I had no real value. I’m not worth loving.”

Shame has a high need for control. Life is scary to a shame-based person; the only
bearable way to survive is to maintain control… at all cost. Some people may think you
are keeping your life extremely manageable and have great organizational skills, and this
could be true, however, if control of every thing in your world is obsessive, and a
growling dog with sharp teeth has been placed at the closed and locked doors of your
soul, then an evaluation and inventory of this learned behavior is necessary. Once you
identify these areas of dysfunction you can make your adjustments. The knowledge and
understanding you will discover within this book series will cause metamorphisms to take
place in your life. It's always good to find understanding. It’s not just the knowledge of
the truth that makes you free, but it’s what you do with that knowledge that makes the
permanent changes in your life. Let this knowledge and understanding break forth with
wisdom for you. You don’t have to stay where you are, a prisoner of shame and guilt.
It’s time to fight for your life back! Let’s unlock the doors and let you go free.
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Valerie 32
10
1979
Part II
“BEAUTY FOR ASHES”
(The Healing of Valerie Continues)
SYNOPSIS
Rebecca was a beautiful little five year old with long blond hair, straight as a board, but
soft and shiny like golden threads glimmering in the sunlight. She was a happy child. When she
and Michael were babies, Rebecca hardly ever cried. This
sparkling, fresh glow of innocence had such a funny sense of
humor, always having something clever to say, always
acting, joking around, skipping, and bringing joy and
sunshine everywhere she went in everything she did. Valerie
had noticed during that past summer how Rebecca had
changed.
Here Valerie was again with little Rebecca in her
arms, only the laughter she always had, had turned into
sobbing. The worst had happened to her. Juan had been
molesting Valerie's little girl. The threats and shame of it all
had kept her from telling anyone. The little friend of Rebecca's that lived up the street and
Rebecca were found with Juan in his room by the elderly grandmother.
"Granna" (the
grandmother was called by her family) hysterically called Roy. Within minutes Roy was there,
Juan was gone and little Rebecca got a shameful spanking and was sent to her room while Roy
went looking for Juan.
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2
When Valerie and Roy first moved into their Santa Ynez house nearly six months earlier,
(before they got any of the animals) there was an old female cat that came to their laundry room
door one night. She was big and pregnant and due any time. Rebecca and Valerie let her in,
contrary to Roy's belief that animals should not be allowed in the house.
She made her
“remaining few days before delivery-bed” inside Valerie's sewing machine cabinet. Every day
after school, Rebecca ran straight to the laundry room to check out her mama cat. Finally the
day arrived.
It was just Valerie and
Rebecca sitting on the floor one hot
mid-summer night, with Valerie's
legs crossed and with Rebecca
sitting in the well of her lap facing
Miss Kitty's back end when here
came #1. Rebecca's eyes were as
big as boulders. "Mommy, what's
that, is that wet mess a kitten, why
is it in saran wrap?" One question
after another, then the inevitable,
"how did it get in there, how in the world did a kitten get in there?" Valerie had always dreaded
those questions from her kids. She wanted their concept of sex to be normal, but what was
healthy and normal? It was all disgusting to her.
"What about me, Mommy, tell me about me, was I inside of you?" As mother cat licked
each one of the new births dry, Valerie's story to Rebecca continued about her giving birth to
Rebecca. "One more question Mom, okay, then that's all," Rebecca said with wonder in her
eyes, "after all this was over, you know, me coming out and all, did you lick me clean, too?"
As Valerie held Rebecca in her arms, her mind flashed back to that hot mid-summer night
with Rebecca sitting on her lap as they
watched mama cat give birth to her babies, and her words, "how did a kitten get in there
Mommy."
"Oh God," she screamed inside her mind.
2
She knew there were still hideous
3
memories in there of her own, but too painful to try to remember. She had recognized so many
familiar symptoms in Rebecca's behavior these past months. She wanted to run for help for her,
but she didn't know why or who to run to. She just pretended it wasn't there and blamed Roy in
her heart for not holding Rebecca enough, or spending enough time with her. Rebecca was
constantly trying to get Roy to notice her, wanting his approval and wanting to get near to him,
only to get rejected. Valerie faintly remembered the same rejection she experienced as a child.
She didn't have a daddy to try to gain acceptance from, only men friends of her mom. The pain
is not the same, however. Acceptance, protection, affection and encouragement from our earthly
fathers are major in building character in boys and girls. It affects our entire lives.
Valerie was crushed. She hated the disgust and contempt she had for Juan; that jerk had
robbed her baby girl of her innocence, her joy and her childhood.
All Valerie had ever dreamed about, all her life was a home and a family, like "Donna
Reed" and "Father Knows Best," especially "Father Knows Best." If Roy could only be like him
and love her and the kids with such doting affection, protecting them from all evil, being in
charge with a gentle, loving, but firm authority. Oh yes, then Valerie could be "Donna Reed,"
lace apron and all, her beautiful home well organized and spotless, her happy cheerful face,
aglow always, as she cared for all of her family's needs, with never a hair out of place.
Roy's business was doing great; however, he not only had his commercial fishing boat
working part-time, but was now subcontracting, for Cox Cable TV, doing all their rewiring and
underground cable laying. He was running eight trucks, and fifteen men. It was as if God had
blessed them one hundredfold for Valerie giving up her social security check six years earlier,
and by them getting legally married, in obedience to Him.
3
4
Those were such happy times. Roy, Valerie, Michelle, Rebecca and Brian, (Roy's son by
his first marriage) were constantly on the go, at least two months of that summer; fishing,
camping, and lots of traveling to places like Yellowstone Park, Yosemite National Park and
Disneyland; all the beautiful places in and around California, as if California wasn't beautiful
enough with the ocean, warm sunny days and so much to do. Brian spent every weekend and
much of the summer with them. The kids had just finished kindergarten, first, and fifth grade in
a typical country small town
school. Brian was nine, about this
time.
Valerie took pictures of
everything, constantly, on every
occasion;
rolls
and
rolls
of
pictures. From the time the kids
were babies she had a compulsion
to
document
every
precious
moment, to capture it forever.
The fear of losing them was so
intense, that she had to capture
every moment, even if all she had
left was only on paper.
Their grumpy neighbor,
Mr. Jim Sallsberry, never seemed
to like them from the moment
they moved in.
He reminded
Valerie that only two four-footed
animals were allowed per acre. They had two acres. Valerie told him all the animals were used
for food and bartering, but he insisted that she was going to sell them commercially because of
her menagerie.
4
5
The kids had their chores, but Valerie did most of them until Roy consented to let her hire
Mike Vacca in the spring of 1979. He was the first since Juan had left, a big guy, that cussed
like a sailor. He stacked hay, turned all four of the huge compost bins every week, and had a few
handyman skills.
The heifer Valerie had was a few weeks from butcher weight, and she had been praying
for this red kind she had seen a few months earlier when she and Roy had gone to the mountains
to collect fire wood. She told Mike that God would be sending her a steer. After a week Mike
chuckled and said, "When did you say this red cow is coming?" "Not cow, Mike, steer," she
said. "God knows what I want; it will be here, right on time. You'll see." "I don't believe in this
God crap," Mike said sarcastically. "You're too religious, Valerie."
A week later, running full speed smack dab down the middle of the residential road,
headed for their yard was the biggest, most beautiful red steer you ever laid your eyes on. He
came to a screeching halt at Valerie's front lawn, pranced confidently across the grass, snorting
from his huge nostrils, sweat dripping from his massive chest and rippled shoulder muscles. As
if he had been programmed, he walked directly into her pasture. Mike just stood there, with his
mouth wide open, and so was the gate! "Shut the gate, Mike," Valerie yelled. "Right on time
Mike, God's always right on time." Mike's eyes filled with tears too, and his voice cracked, as he
muttered, "Hot damn, there really is a God."
Within a few minutes, here came people running down the same residential street. They
were surprised to see their steer in Valerie's pasture. "Big Mac" had been raised by Art, a local
policeman, for his daughter to win grand champ at the Santa Maria fair. It was a rare breed that
had been fed the best feeds, and they had tried so hard to tame him, but to no avail. His daughter
was unable to handle him to brush or lead him.
Valerie's sow, "Manna," had just had baby pigs, four of them. Since Art and his daughter
couldn't handle Big Mac, they bartered two baby pigs for the fair, and two hundred and twentyfive dollars.
The pigs were growing bigger every day, nearing butcher weight. Big Mac was at their
neighbors place fattening up for the freezer alongside the heifer. Everything had grown and was
nearly ready for harvest time. The grade school had brought several classes to Valerie's mini5
6
farm on field trips. It was like a zoo to the children. Gardening classes came a few times during
the summer to learn a thing or two about her unusual success with growing things.
Valerie was meeting lots of people and feeling very intimidated by them. She had always
felt so stupid, naive, and backward all her life. She misused words a lot, not understanding their
meaning, trying so hard to express her thoughts with colorful expression, with a limited
vocabulary; anything to show some kind of intelligence in conversations with people. She had
such an unexpressive vocabulary, now that she had stopped cussing.
One particular day, as she was working around in her greenhouse, a car drove down their
driveway. Two men got out that she had never seen before. "We're curious; could you take us
on a tour, if you're not too busy?" Valerie had her hands covered in a mixture of worm castings,
compost, garden dirt and
vermiculite.
She quickly
wiped the dirt off her
hands. She felt real out of
place in her bib-over-alls
with her long pigtails to her
waist and
her rubber boots to her
knees.
She
led
them
through the chicken house
that Doug had built for her,
and
told
them
all
the
stories; the chickens in the
laundry room, the huge bird
aviary, the pond a nun and
she had built together, the
three little pigs story, Jane
Fonda's grass seed, her Big
Mac story and all. Then an
6
7
hour later, "Well, I showed you my compost bins, now I'm mixing compost and regular dirt and
experimenting with the 'orgasms' in the soil." The two men quickly glanced at each other with
their eyebrows raised and a puzzled look on their faces. "Excuse me, Mrs. Scott," one of them
said amused, "A... don't you mean, organisms in the soil?" She was just as puzzled at this
question as he was.
Here she was, 32 years old, and still had to sing her alphabet. She couldn't balance a
checkbook, couldn't subtract, didn't know her multiplication tables, couldn't spell even simple
words, and was frustrated to no end when she had to read notes from the kids' teachers. She had
to have total silence to try to concentrate on the words, assimilate the information in some kind
of order, only after pointing to each word so not to let her eyes stray from right to left and bottom
to top. She had subconsciously learned different techniques through the years of her life trying
to fit in with different classes of people.
Valerie would set moods with the lighting in the house to creatively provide a pleasant
atmosphere in the evening. During the winter months, the fireplace was aglow when the kids got
home from school, with fresh baked wheat bread in the oven timed perfectly so that the aroma
would peak out about the time they walked in the door. There would be plenty of fresh churned
butter and honey from her bees. They usually opted for a Ding Dong or Oreo cookies and a glass
of orange juice. None of them could ever adjust to milk coming straight out of a cow. A typical
evening meal consisted of (food that was all home grown, raised, and processed by Valerie) ham,
beef, homemade wheat rolls made from fresh ground wheat flour, all kinds of vegetables; corn,
green beans, beets... name it.
It seemed no matter how hard Valerie tried, or how big her projects got, the more
disapproval she felt from Roy. She thought that someday he would be proud of her, as his wife,
and know that she had done it all for him and the kids. Roy didn't express himself verbally
much. He was very much of a loner. A few times he had said however, how he wished that she
was like she was when they first met. Valerie didn't understand what in the heck he had meant
by that. She had worn dresses up to her derriere, and was a wild woman; drinking, smoking and
cussing. That was then, and this was now, and now she was a Christian. Anything reminding of
her of her past was out of the question. Sex, money, and the kids seemed to be the topic of their
7
conflicts.
8
They never agreed on the discipline of the kids.
Valerie seemed to be the
disciplinarian since she was always home with them. She tended to
get real frustrated and over-reacted much of the time, unable to sort out menial causes for
correction from more serious problems.
Roy never had a close friend all the years they were together. Just before his dad died of
a brain cancer and was unable to speak or move, they were at the hospital. Roy knelt down with
his face next to his dad's face, and said, "I love you Dad, I love you." One tear trickled down the
side of his dad's face. All she knew about him and his dad is, that his dad held three or four jobs,
and was always gone when Roy was growing up. His folks divorced, when he was sixteen.
Valerie had gotten an old Jersey milk cow, named "Babe," from Mr. Hopson, an old dairy
farmer that lived in town. He'd left the horns on her, because he raised Holsteins for his dairy,
and since they were so much bigger than she, he left those long, pointy horns, on, so she could
protect herself. Babe had always been handled by Mr. Hopson, and she hated Valerie. Valerie
ran from those horns trying to get her into the milking station to milk her many a time. Her
hopes were to breed her to a Holstein, keep the heifer calf, and raise it for a milker, and then get
rid of Babe before she hurt somebody. "I want a black heifer, Mr. Hopson," she told him on the
phone that day. "Impossible," he said. "I've bred Babe every year to these black Holstein bulls
and never got a black calf, not once. Valerie didn't understand impossible. While Babe was
gone to Mr. Hopson's farm, she thanked God for her black, one-half Jersey, one-half Holstein,
little heifer. She was going to name her, Betsy. Valerie wrote a letter to the 700 Club, about
God bringing Big Mac to them, and they called her and wanted to bring a camera crew to the
house, all the way from Virginia Beach, Virginia. She told Roy that evening over supper. "Why
would they come all that way, Valerie, to film some steer. You blow everything up, you
exaggerate. You live in this fantasy world full of stuff you dream up. So a steer breaks out of a
fence and ends up at our place. So what? Things like that happen in areas like this all the time,
and they don't put it on TV," he said with disgust. "Why can't you just be like everyone else,
Valerie?" She held back the tears for the kid’s sake, until she got to the bedroom. Then she fell
to her knees by the bed, laid her head down on a pillow, and cried. Her thoughts of unworthiness
overwhelmed her.
8
9
Two weeks later, the CBN camera crew arrived. Roy had left for work early that day,
without giving her a word of encouragement. The kids didn't acknowledge anything either.
Everything was spotless. Not one bit of animal poop anywhere. "I'm out-a-here," Mike said, as
he hung up the shovel, in the barn. "What?" Valerie said in surprise. "You're not leaving me
with these people, Mike. You're a part of this whole thing." "No way, I ain't gettin' in front of
no camera," as he walked up the driveway to his car.
10:00 a.m., 11:00 a.m., nearly 1:00 p.m., and it was pushing 100 degrees outside, and
they still weren't there. It was nearly 2:00 when two guys drove up in a car with no air
conditioner in it. They had missed a flight to Santa Barbara, and were hot and tired and a lot
cranky. They wanted to get it started because they were running late. While Valerie told her
story briefly, Tye, one of the crew, would get involved in untangling cord or arranging the
background where they would stand or something. "Now, we're ready, all I want you to do,
when I ask you a question, and the camera is rolling, is answer me briefly, telling me what
happened, or just answer my question. Do you understand?" he asked. It reminded Valerie of
school when the teacher put her under pressure. She wouldn't comprehend the question and her
mind would freeze.
To make matters worse, her milk cow, Babe had passed the way they were walking after
Mike had left the place spotless. Tye nearly slid off his feet slipping into a present Babe left
behind, all over his nice patent-leather shoes. His patience was wearing thin, having to re-tape
over and over again, because she would forget the question. After the fifth take he said, "Let's
rehearse this without the camera, I know you're nervous, Valerie." The camera was rolling after
all, and it was a take. At the neighbors, they had Valerie chase Big Mac around the pen to make
him look more spirited on film. As the men loaded everything in the car, Valerie asked them if
they would like to take some fresh peaches or plums on the plane with them to eat on their way
home. "No thank you," Tye said.
"I'm sorry I messed up so much," she said, no longer able to hold back her tears. "I know
I messed up so badly that you probably have nothing to use now. I don't think you're really
happy with this job. You need to be doing what you really want to do," she said. "No, Valerie,"
Tye said, "I'm the one that needs to apologize. I had no right to be acting like I have. Yes, I am
9
10
unhappy with my job, I want to be a reporter for CBN. My wife's pregnant with our first, due
any day now." A few days later, Tye called Valerie from Virginia to tell her his wife, had a baby
boy.
Valerie was doing a lot of bartering, to try to hold her own with the cost of the animals; a
butchered pig for a handmade patch quilt, a baby goat for a picture drawn of what she wanted for
the center of the quilt.
Michelle, now 12, was having a hard time fitting in at her new public school. Valerie
went from teacher to teacher, hearing how Michelle was so quiet and shy, had no friends, ate
lunch alone, and didn’t seem to fit in anywhere and her grades required attention. She just didn't
apply herself.
Michael was having his struggles fitting in, only his manifested differently. He had this
clown act he'd put on, but inside was very insecure. He was the peacemaker in the family. He
was terribly upset, whenever he made the smallest of mistakes, or someone was disappointed in
his performance. He was a straight A student in school. He was the first one up after Valerie in
the morning, making his bed, brushing his teeth, doing his chores which consisted of feeding and
watering the dogs, cats, chickens and taking out all garbage’s.
Valerie had neatly organized lists of duties for each one of the kids on separate sheets of
paper. A cardboard poster board hung atop of the stairs, above the clothes hamper with neatly
drawn lines and boxes to check off each duty. It not only taught the kids responsibility, but
helped to ease her ever increasing load of managing a five bedroom, four bathroom house. She
could write rules, guidelines and expectations all down in volumes for the kids to help with all of
this responsibility, but couldn’t help the kids with their homework and read information about
school events sent home. No one knew how hard it was for her during these days of trying to be
the best mother and wife for her family.
Rebecca, age 6, was not her bubbly comedian self ever again, after the episode with Juan.
Her childish innocence was gone, and there was this sometimes panicky grasping for security
and safety whenever she felt in danger of any kind; nothing hysterical. It was like she would
scream on the inside without being able to make a sound. She increasingly withdrew deeper into
herself, spending nearly every moment at home with the animals, in her own little day dream
10
11
world. Rebecca was quite different from the other two. Material things seemed to have no value
to her. She never asked for anything; didn't seem to get excited about toys, clothes and such.
She just kinda flowed with whatever was going on. The kids would get a five dollar a week
allowance every Saturday, and Rebecca's would be on the floor in the bathroom, or sitting next
to the goats' milking station, or wadded up in a half eaten ball in the chickens' laying house. She
was bored with school, didn't pursue friendships and didn't really retain any interests in anything
very long. After school, Valerie would glance at the chore list she had written to see if it all was
checked off before dinner, and... it wasn't. She would be sitting in the straw at the back of the
barn holding one of the new baby goats or down at the end of the pasture by the creek with her
pony Salty. Even after Valerie scolded her, no form of punishment would make her change. LaDe-Da Rebecca, Valerie used to call her.
These three kids had a real hard time taking orders from two parents that gave such
mixed messages. Valerie's unrealistic expectations of everything, and Roy's, let it land where
you throw it attitude.
Roy always tried to get Valerie to go with him on the boat, when he pulled his lobster and
crab traps. She'd gone fishing with him a few times on the ocean. He had so little patience with
her. On one occasion, she was trying to help by netting a big fish that he had caught. He yelled
and jerked the net out of her hand when the fish on his hook got away. "You're so stupid, you
can't even do something simple like net a fish. What in the hell is the mater with you?"
Could
the reactions have been his dad yelling at him or Valerie's mom talking to her?
Then another time, they all went fishing and each one had a pole. It was their first trip,
all of them together, and no one knew how to bait an anchovy, and waited for Roy to show them.
He baited a few hooks and then went to fish himself, casting his line in the water, not saying a
word while they stood there. Everyone was suddenly on their own. Within moments, Brian and
Michael were yelling at each other because their lines were crossed. Rebecca's anchovy was
gone off her hook and Michelle and Valerie were seasick. Roy got totally furious and grabbed
up all the fishing poles and threw them in the water.
One mid-summer night when it was unusually cool outside from a freak rain storm,
Valerie had gone out to do her chores and carry a big five gallon bucket full of slop to the pig
11
12
pen. She noticed that her 250 pound sow, Manna, didn't come galloping over to the fence with
her usual frisky enthusiasm over getting fed. She had the personality of a pet poodle dog and
showed her affection towards Valerie by rubbing herself like an eighty inch tree trunk against her
leg nearly knocking her over every time.
Only this time she wasn't there to greet her. Valerie climbed over the three board corral
fence and walked to her shelter. There she was lying on her side. She was breathing fast and
moaning and Valerie knew something was wrong with her delivery. Her babies weren't due for
another week. It was beginning to pour down rain. Valerie ran to the house to get string, iodine,
a heat lamp, electric cord, towels or something to sit on, and a box for the babies. There's no
way she could call the vet. Roy would flip so Valerie would have to do it herself.
Manna just needs someone to see her through, Valerie thought as she crawled through the
mud to get up under her shelter. She tried to spread out a towel before she sat down, but there
wasn't enough room to do both. Oh, well, she thought, she sure hoped that this was mud she was
sitting in, seeping through her jeans. It sure didn't smell like it, though. She sat the box under
the heat lamp and placed the string to tie off the umbilical cord in the box, and if need be the
iodine to dip the end of the cord in, if for some reason there was nothing to tie off. All this time
Manna's snorting and moaning, while her eyeball is following Valerie's moving around as if she
were wishing that she would just leave. Valerie finally settled in, sighed as she leaned against
the wall of the small shelter and patted Manna on her side to comfort her.
It was nearly midnight and it was dark and so quiet. She enjoyed the peacefulness. There
was a feeling of safety or security she didn't understand, like she'd been in a place like this
before. She didn't mind the dirty smells and the tight closed in place. She could see the opening
and knew she could get out if she wanted. It was a strange feeling being in there with Manna
that night. She'd get a flash of a thought in her mind, like an image of a child curled up in a cold,
dark place. It was dirty there too, and water on the floor, where she had squeezed herself into
this place. The smells were similar, the quiet was the same and yet in the madness of it all, she
felt she belonged there, somehow. No one would come to this disgusting place. She was safe,
she was safe, she was safe... Suddenly, she snapped back to reality by Manna's 250 pound body
jolting back and forth, building up momentum to try to get up. There was no room for this!
12
13
Then suddenly, she launched this squealing little ball of pure muscle into the air and it
landed somewhere out in the mud. Valerie didn't realize baby pigs were born this way. It wasn't
like those kitties, all helpless and near motionless. This little sucker was nearly on the run.
Valerie bumped her head on the two-by-four holding the roof of this tiny, five foot by three and
one half foot lean-to together, trying to get out of the way while Manna leaned over her legs to
eject, like a cannon, another screaming, squealing little swine. She needed to get out to rescue
little number one and get it wiped off and under the light. Sows get real upset when you mess
with their little ones. The piglets act and sound like you're trying to murder them. You can't
really cuddle a baby pig. They actually look cuter than they feel. They're like trying to hold a
screeching, squirming, rock of hard muscular flesh, and when they're wet and muddy... forget it,
that's why the greased pig contest at the fair. Manna was getting upset. Two piggies were out
and who knows how many more to go. Old Bud Harwood had told her the litters get bigger, the
more litters they have.
Valerie wondered how big is big. She got the first two wiped, and under the heat lamp,
(forget the iodine, and she sure didn't need string). Then she calmed down Manna, assuring her
that she wasn't going to hurt those babies of hers, (yet). Then Valerie squatted down outside the
shelter, positioned like a quarterback, to catch the next one as it came out and it would save her a
lot of trouble. She knew God was laughing. Sure enough, here came number three. She got to
do the iodine thing on this one. Enough to say, she did it when Bud Harwood asked.
There were only four in the litter of piglets that night. The last one was real small, and
wasn't as lively. Actually, he came out shaking like he was having a nervous breakdown or
something. It was hard for him to even walk, he shook so badly. You might call him the runt
with Parkinson's disease. Valerie got all Manna's little ones nursing best she could, grabbed her
string and iodine and called it a night.
Fall was coming and harvest had already begun. Fruit was ready, one kind after the
other; apricots, then peaches, berries (all five kinds), plums, and now apples and pears were
coming in. Valerie was freezing most of it because she didn't quite understand canning yet.
Valerie thought Mr. Sallsberry would mellow out a little with his griping and complaining if he
13
14
got to experience some of the fruits of her labor, so she gave him one of the butchered and
smoked turkeys she had raised for Thanksgiving.
A rocking chair that Valerie had talked Roy into letting her buy at a garage sale looked
real cute in the processing room, but didn't make a lot of sense in there until one week later. Late
one evening, just before sunset, there was a knock on the back door. This little old snow-white,
angel-haired lady stood there with a cane in her hand. Mary was her name. She'd wanted to see
Valerie's flower and vegetable gardens all spring and summer long. She didn't wait for Valerie
to ask, but quickly sat down in the nearest chair and in her cute Yugoslavia accent proceeded to
tell
Valerie
about
all
she
was
doing
wrong
with
growing
her
flowers
and
Vegetables, (that she could see anyway). She told her about the old country and how she was
raised on fresh fruits and vegetables. All the women smoked the meat and contributed to all that
was communally raised. When she came to America with John after the war, she and John
worked for some governor. Her job involved being head of the kitchen. The governor had all
the food grown organically and what could be stored was in the huge full basement of the
governor's house. The rest, Mary processed by canning in the kitchen. "Mary, I have a deal for
you," Valerie said. "If you will teach me everything you know about canning, I'll can you all the
vegetables you want. All you have to do is sit," then it hit her, the reason for the rocking chair;
that chair was for Mary to sit in while she taught her how to can. Tears were streaming out of
Mary's tired eyes and down her ivory face.
Valerie put an ad in the paper, "hard working, English speaking, and dependable, honest
man with handyman skills wanted $4.00 an hour." It wasn't long before she heard a pop, pop,
bang, pop, coming down the driveway. A thin man with a mustache, round wire rimmed glasses
and brown shoulder length hair swung his leg off the motorcycle he was riding while unsnapping
his motorcycle helmet. His glasses clung to the upward curve at the tip of his nose. He pushed
them back to rest in front of his eyes where they belonged and hung his helmet by the strap on
the handle bar of the bike.
He was single and lived alone in a small cottage on top of San Marcos Pass. He said he
had a rock band. He was the drummer and things were kinda slow. They played in bars when
there was work. There hadn't been much work so he needed a part-time job to fill in. He was
14
15
hired. Guy and Valerie hit it off right away. He was a hard worker, and so much fun to be
around.
Valerie's hair was really long, past her rear end when she had it down, not braided in
pigtails, (which was hardly ever), but she didn't feel attractive. It had been years since Roy had
complimented her on much of anything. She really didn't have time to think about herself at all.
She was too busy with everyone else. She felt guilty taking the time to go to the bathroom or
relax in the bathtub, which was her favorite thing to do. Rarely, she'd fill her tub with bubbles,
get in and sink into the hot water to her chin. She'd close the shower curtain and shut her eyes,
lying there naked; closed in she felt safe and free for a moment. The bathroom door was always
locked. She'd talk to God in a real open way, during that time, as open as she could feel, many
times crying, allowing tears to even roll down her face. Knock, Knock, Knock! "Mom, are you
in there? What are you doing? Michael has my pencil and won't give it back," Rebecca yelled
through the crack in the door. The noise broke her sweet silence and jolted her back to reality.
"I'll be out in a minute. Tell him that I said to knock it off and give your pencil back to you,
now!" Valerie hollered firmly. She sat there a moment longer, hating to get out, searching for
the deep trance she was in. Knock, Knock, "Mom, the phone is for you."
It was Loretta Verhassel, a real sweet lady that had jokingly adopted Valerie as her
daughter when they drove school buses in Santa Barbara. Valerie invited her for lunch to renew
old friendships. The next day Loretta was there a little early. Guy and Valerie were still doing
chores at 11:00 a.m., and she wanted to make Loretta and her a real nice fresh salad or
something. The garden was loaded with all kinds of spinach, lettuces, carrots, and such. Valerie
greeted her at the pasture gate wanting to hug her, but she had pulled one of the baby pigs out
from behind the shed and she had something, all over the front of her that looked like mud. It
didn't smell like it though. "How's my adopted daughter," Loretta said, walking towards her with
her arms stretched out. Valerie had a rough time accepting hugs anyway. She loved giving them
away, but kinda pulled back from a quick approach towards her. "Hold it for later, Loretta,"
Valerie joked. "I don't think this is mud on my overalls. Let me change first." Valerie changed,
fixed a nice lunch and showed her around the place. They ended up back in the kitchen.
"Loretta, I need your advice," Valerie said. "Tomorrow is Roy's and my anniversary, and I want
15
16
to dress up, but I don't know what looks best." She grabbed Loretta by the hand and led her to
their bedroom and to her closet. "This is what I have," Valerie said opening up her double closet
doors. "Wow girl, I see what you should wear," she said, taking out Valerie’s new peignoir.
"This is it!" "You've got to be kidding, Loretta," Valerie said hanging it back in the closet,
"that's not what I mean." "It looks bran' new Val, what's the deal? You've never worn it yet.
Look, it still has the tags on it," she said. "I don't want to talk about it, Loretta. Come on, let's
go in the family room, by the fire," she said walking to the bedroom door. "No, let's talk, Val,"
she said, grabbing Val's hand, as Valerie walked past her. "Let's talk about SEX. You act like
you need to," she continued. "I wish I had a dollar for every time, I'd be rich," and she laughed,
pulling Val down on the bed. "Look at this room, Valerie, it's the pits. I can tell your sex life
stinks by looking at this room."
Valerie just sat there and listened reluctantly while Loretta continued. She knew that she
was going to get her point across. "Look at this room; no pictures, no knickknacks, these ugly
gunny sack curtains. The rest of your house is a dream. This room needs resurrection, Valerie,
in more ways than one," she laughed. "You know what I mean? ha, ha, ha." This was a
disgusting conversation for Valerie. She had not planned for their time together to be like this.
Valerie had a lot to do, but put it off for this visit and all Loretta wants to talk about now is sex,
Valerie thought. She just sat there sheepishly looking at her hands folded on her lap. "Valerie,"
Loretta blurted out, "How are your orgasms?" There was that disgusting sounding word that
Valerie messed up on in the greenhouse that day, when those men came to see the property. The
word got her full attention! "I don't mean to sound stupid," Valerie said, "but, Loretta, what does
that word mean? I've heard it before and it gives me the creeps." "You don't know what an
orgasm is, Valerie? My god, woman, no wonder you have gunny sacks hanging on your
bedroom windows," she said, sitting straight up on the bed. "It's the most wonderful experience
in the world. Good grief girl, I can't believe you don't know what I'm talking about," she
hollered. "I can't believe you enjoy sex that much, Loretta," Valerie said, feeling embarrassed,
and so naive. "Let me tell you what an orgasm is. I didn't always know either. I expected
petting when we were going together, but when Bassel told me there was an exciting experience
for a woman, I felt like I shouldn't experience such a thing. My religious background, I
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17
guess," she continued. "We got married and he read books all the time, about sex in marriage.
He's the one that made the investment. 'Think about it,' he'd say to me, and we'd work hard on
finding the right spot. The magic spot, he'd call it. People are different, no one is the same, I
don't think or should I say, their magic spot is different. Bassel taught me to enjoy sex, Valerie.
He enjoyed me, enjoying it." Valerie just sat there half embarrassed, half curious, hoping she'd
continue in more detail. "Where's your spot Loretta?" Valerie softly asked, still feeling like she
wanted to cover her face with her hands, like a little school girl. "You'll never guess, my boob's,
of course; in fact, the right one, more than the left. I remember when the kids were little, I never
realized they were bringing their friends' over in the middle of the day, when Bassel came home
from work for lunch, ha, ha, to listen to the strange sounds coming from our bedroom. Now that
they're grown, we all laugh about it. They grew up knowing about Mom and Dad's great sex life.
There wouldn't be any world, Valerie, without sex. Might as well enjoy it, don't you think?"
"Hey, Loretta," Valerie said, "I got a freezer full of roosters, that's how bad I hate it." "It's all in
your mind, Val. Well, I gotta run, it sure was nice seeing you again. Let's go out to lunch next
time you're in Santa Barbara, like old school bus drivin' days. You, me, Marylou, and Joyce, and
honey... do something about this room. Put on that sexy gown, and lock the door and have some
fun." Valerie wondered how in the world she would ever be able to let herself open up enough
to talk to Roy about her "magic spots." He'd laugh. Valerie put up new curtains and decorated
the walls with the kids pictures. She even went to the trouble to buy a book on marriage for
Roy's anniversary gift, but he rejected it all.
Roy's business was growing by leaps and bounds. They didn't have an office to run the
System Service business out of, except for the house. Roy soon was unable to keep up with all
the paper work, keeping books on the expenses, paying bills and taxes and all, so he hired a
young woman named Ellen to be his bookkeeper. She was a very attractive woman in her
middle twenties, about Valerie's height, 5'8 ½", nice figure, blond hair, and was a complete
genius! She was a real sweet person, quiet and somewhat insecure in her presentation of herself,
at first. Valerie couldn't understand how someone so smart could be so timid in expressing
herself. She'd whiz through that paper work like she was shucking corn. Valerie could feel her
reaching out to her at times for friendship, but there was something about her that made her
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18
stomach churn. She always wore dresses to work. Gad, if it had been her, levis were the only
comfortable answer to sitting behind a stinkin' desk all day in some 10'x12' room, with only one
small window. After a few weeks of this kind of work, she seemed to really love it. She and
Roy worked together so naturally.
They seemed so compatible talking over the business.
Sometimes Valerie would eavesdrop at their conversation. They sounded like a couple of
"financier's," (experts in money matters, as a banker or stockbroker, the dictionary defines the
word). Valerie felt so stupid and even jealous of her the way she captured Roy's interest with her
brilliant mind. She noticed the way she'd look up at him as she sat behind the desk, and he'd be
bent over her shoulder explaining something to her. Her shoulder length blond hair was parted
on the side and hung in a wave, kinda sexy-like down the side of her face. She'd smile up at him,
not knowing Valerie was standing in the doorway watching, in her dirty old overalls, and
pigtails.
Michael wanted to get into football that coming fall with some new boys he'd met. These
boys were pretty rough. Not like his friend, David Gandolfo, that lived up the street, or Michael
Brady, across the street from them. Valerie didn't know why Michael chose to run around with
this group, especially because of Jeff, the bully of the bunch. Michael would come home from
football practice crying because this Jeff guy kept pushing him around. He'd trip Michael or call
him names, intimidating him in front of his other friends. One evening, when Valerie was
tucking the kids in, Michael told her that he had decided he didn't want to play football after all,
but he knew his dad wanted him to. Roy said it would toughen Michael up to play a rough sport
like that. One evening, as Valerie was tucking him in bed, he looked up at her, and said, "Mom,
this Jeff guy trips me and takes my new bike away and won't give it back. I don't know what to
do," he said, with tears trickling down his temple into his hair. Valerie sat on his bed and wiped
his tears away with her hand. "Honey, I don't know what to tell you." Michael continued to cry.
"Tell you what, Michael," Valerie told him, "if Jeff hits or knocks you down, you tell him he
better not do it again and start to walk away. If he hits, kicks, punches or pushes you down
again, get up and tell him he'd better stop it, and start to walk away. If he kicks, punches, slaps,
hits or pushes you down one more time after that, I want you to get up and knock the hell out of
him, okay? Only make it count, okay, Michael?" Valerie said hugging him tight. "Okay, Mom,
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19
thanks. Do you think God would understand?" he asked. "I don't know Michael, but somehow I
think it'll all work out," Valerie said turning out his light.
Valerie's old milk cow, Babe, was due to give birth any day. She was contrary as ever,
and very hard to get her head into the milk station to milk her. She'd fight Valerie, sweeping at
her with those long pointy horns. Valerie had to put her in a corral, with hardly any food, then
tempt her with sweet grain to get any cooperation out of her, and even then, she'd kick sideways
while Valerie was milking her, most times knocking over the bucket of milk. Valerie wanted to
make hamburger out of her many a morning. Her milk supply was dwindling since she was due
to deliver, and they couldn't drink the rich colostrum being produced for her new calf anyway, so
Valerie just fed it to the pigs.
Delivering kittens, goats and pigs are one thing, Valerie had some real good experiences
with all of them, but she didn't quite know about calves. She'd seen on TV once, when they had
to hook up the calf’s feet to a rope and tractor, and pull with the contractions. The problem was,
she didn't have a tractor and the cow was lying down in the movie, Babe wasn't.
By noon, Babe was lying down. Valerie didn't know if cows had their babies standing up
or not, or if lying down indicated she was really having problems. It was a good position for her
and Valerie to be in while Valerie finally could get ropes around the calf's hooves. Babe had
been bearing down for 45 minutes, or so. Valerie told Guy the next time she pushed; you pull,
when she stops, you stop. Babe didn't like them in there one bit, but the ball wasn't in her court.
After four or five major strains, out it came, all slimy and wet. Guy and Valerie quickly untied
the ropes and lifted its leg to see what she had. To Valerie's delight, it was her black little heifer
that she'd asked God for, and Mr. Hopson had said was impossible.
Valerie was talked into selling Mary Kay cosmetics and quickly learned glamour
techniques and all the language. Night after night, for a week, she left her family to fend for
themselves, coming home sometimes after midnight, when everyone was fast asleep. At her first
meeting of all the consultant's, she was so surprised to be awarded all kinds of ribbons and
costume jewelry for, "most parties" booked in a week, highest sales, biggest order put in, and on
and on. She tried to keep up with all her daily chores, during the day, in her overalls and rubber
muckies, and at night she'd turn into Cinderella. Vikki was pushing her to become a director
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20
within a year. She just did what Vikki told her to do, with a few ideas of her own, and it seemed
to work.
Valerie loved watching these women feel better about themselves. Rich or poor, young
or old, they were women. They felt and looked prettier, after she got finished with them. Even
scars and aging spots seemed to disappear with her camouflaging techniques. Valerie could
identify so much with their excitement, when they looked in the mirror at the finished work, and
she was moved sometimes to tears. To many people, this might sound silly and might even bore
a few, but when you feel ugly in this world that tells you beautiful is in, so therefore, you're not,
and then suddenly you feel pretty... it'll bring tears to your eyes.
Valerie was gaining confidence daily, being in this new Mary Kay world. It wasn't the
pink cars, diamonds and awards that were cracking open her cocoon, but her opportunity to help
these women she met, from the frumpy looking lost and lonely, to the wealthy women, with no
real meaning to their lives, but their money and things. They seemed to be the neediest of all.
Every one of them had a closet they needed to come out of. These women were like Valerie in
every important way. Like a rosebud, that just needs to be nurtured, that's all, to blossom into a
lovely rose.
Valerie's favorite seclusion was to run warm bath water, lock the door, and sink into
mounds of bubbles, behind a closed shower curtain with a tape player softly playing her favorite
music and slip into a semi-sleep.
"Knock, Knock," abruptly snapped her back to her senses. She instinctively grabbed a
washcloth in the water, to cover her naked breasts and slid down into the bubbles. The old
familiar fear gripped her like a vise. Her hiding place had been violated. This is pathetic, she
thought, getting a hold of her out-of-control emotions. "I'm acting like a little girl, what's wrong
with me?" She splashed water on her tear stained face. "Yes, what do you want?" she asked.
"What are you doing? How come you always lock the door?" Roy asked, jiggling the door knob.
"Are you coming to bed?" Yuck! It's not even Saturday morning, she though. He must have
been watching something sexy on TV and she has to play out his fantasies, played through her
mind, in a twisted sort of way.
"I'll be there in a minute," Valerie replied, as her mind
automatically began to search for excuses that hadn't been used before. She was running out of
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21
them. You know, she'd used everything from headaches to female infections. She stayed up
late, got up early, even shamefully got into bed, when she had just been working with the
animals all day, without bathing, hoping it would turn him off. She would do anything! How
could she escape from sex?
There was this jerk, vacuum cleaner salesman, Frank was his name, that kept coming by
to collect payments or something on the vacuum cleaner Valerie had bought from him months
before. She didn't know really what his deal was other than he got on her nerves and always
came over, at the wrong time, without calling first. He'd pull down the driveway in his car and
wouldn't get out, but would just sit in it, with the windows rolled up, afraid of Josh, (the big
Black dog) and honk his horn, till she came outside and called the dogs off. She knew he was a
weird-o because he was one of the few people the dogs didn't like. It was a good thing he never
did get out. They'd probably rip his leg off or something, and he was the kinda guy that would
sue at the drop of a hat.
It was just before Halloween, about 3:00 or so in the afternoon. The air was cool and
leaves were beginning to fall off their big maple tree in the front yard. Valerie had a fifty gallon
drum over the fire, heating water to dip the turkeys in. Two saw horses held an 8x10 piece of
plywood across it for cutting and cleaning (processing). The stump and sharpened ax were
waiting, with Valerie, for Guy. He hadn't shown up and she couldn't wait any longer. This was a
big job, even if it was only two turkeys. They were way too big this year. She figured over fiftyfive pounds each tom, forty-five pounds or so for the hens. It was a big job for one skinny lady
with long fake fingernails. She had on her trusty overalls and muckies, (she sure missed wearing
them) and a thermo long-sleeved undershirt. The straps of her overalls stayed up better with her
thermos on. "Great," she said to herself, tying her pigtails at the bottom and then throwing them
over her shoulder, behind her back. "I guess I'll have to do it myself, just like the Little Red
Hen," she said stomping off to the chicken yard to grab her first victim. She was really ticked off
Guy hadn't showed up to help her. "See if he gets a turkey for Thanksgiving," she mumbled,
dragging a nearly fifty pound tom through the chicken house door, flapping and fighting her all
the way. "Man, he's strong," she said, trying to get another hold around his wings to keep him
from bruising them, he was flapping so violently. The other thirty turkeys were gobbling loudly
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22
in unison, as if to say, "Let my turkey go!" Valerie wound some thin rope around him as she sat
on his back holding his wings to his body with her knees pressed against him, stretched his neck
over the stump with her left hand, hatchet in her right one, while still sitting on his back. Who
knows what was going to happen, he was so strong. "Hold still, turkey," Whack! Like a bucking
bronco, head half on, head half off, Valerie rode him nearly across the back half of the yard,
blood spraying everywhere. She felt so bad, but what could she do, and how was she going to
finish the job? All she could do is ride it out. Finally, he bled to death. She felt so awful that he
had suffered like that. She got up with the ax in her hand, blood all over her face, thermos, hair
and overalls, everywhere, more than anyplace else. Three of her fingernails got lost somewhere
along the way. She was dragging Mr. Turkey over to the near-boiling pot with the hatchet still in
her other hand when speeding down the driveway came Frank, honking his horn, in a hurry as
usual. The dogs barking, the turkeys gobbling loudly, honk, honk, honk, honk--She dropped the
turkey on the ground, and started across the back yard toward his car. As she slowly approached,
Frank began to scream and yell like a madman. He tried to start his car, but it was flooded. She
just kept walking towards him wondering what in the sam-hill was wrong with this dude. He
was freakin' out! Finally he rolled up his window, locked the door and sat there sobbing like a
baby, his eyes wild with fear. She stood outside his car window, and suddenly saw her reflection
in the glass. She looked like a scene out of "Carrie." Hatchet in her hand and all. Her face had
blood splattered all over it. She didn't realize what she was doing. Butchering was so foreign to
some people. She wondered what he thought she was doing. He tried starting his car, it cranked
over and he took off like a bat out of Hell. Funny guy, that Frank. He never bothered her again
after that.
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23
Grandma
Case,
Valerie's Mom's mom, died
that year. In fact, the bad
part was that Valerie's mom
had found her dead.
Roy
booked a flight for Michelle
and Valerie to fly to Des
Moines,
Iowa,
before
Thanksgiving. Valerie was
so excited to see her mom.
It had been so long.
She
wondered how she looked
and if she was still that
vivacious
sex-pot
always remembered.
she'd
Her
bleached hair, red lips and
huge breasts in her skin tight
sweaters, made her that double for Marilyn Monroe, her mom’s favorite movie star. Then there
was Des Moines and the memories of childhood. Inside, Valerie was frightened to be reminded
of something she couldn't allow herself to remember.
The wheels of the plane hit the runway with a thump. "There's Mom, Michelle," Valerie
said, as they walked down the enclosed ramp to the boarding area of the airport. For a moment
there, Valerie wanted to be five again. The feeling was weird. She wanted to jump into her
arms, throw her tiny arms around her neck, and kiss her red-rouged cheek. She could almost
smell her perfume. You could still pick her mom out in a crowd. Her hair was shorter now, but
still bright pale yellow. Her attractive, past middle aged face, gave her an essence of elegance,
as she stood there in a dark pink long coat, with a full gray fox collar, waving her leather gloved
hand in the air towards the back of the crowd of people greeting their loved ones. Valerie looked
pretty classy herself, in her brown leather coat; Roy had bought her, with matching purse. Her
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24
hair neatly up on the sides, with a long ringlet of hair down her back to below her waist. She had
her own style and stood out in the crowd too.
Valerie wanted so badly to build some relationship with her mom. She wanted her to see
her as a grown mature woman, and still a part of her longed for her approval, like a little girl.
She had a way of twisting things you said which put a totally different meaning on the
conversation. She'd learned that well through her misunderstood years, living with her mentally
ill mind. She was very cautious not to ruffle her feathers in any way so she only told her the
good news about her life now. "I always knew you'd be somebody important someday, Valerie,"
she said, as they were driving to her home. "Although, you have always been the black sheep of
the family, so to speak," she continued, already starting to dig.
As they drove into Valerie's Mom's driveway, snow began to fall, that was a thrill for
Michelle since they lived in California. Mom lived way out some place in West Des Moines.
The closest houses were a block away. Her house was tiny with only one bedroom, living room,
kitchen and bath. It looked just like her. Colored beads hanging in every doorway except the
bathroom. The smell of incense filled the air and there were candles on nearly every flat surface,
in every room. The furniture was upholstered in zebra, tiger or leopard-skin like material. She
had a full basement that was really a gas. There was an "entrance" at the bottom of the stairs,
with colored beads hanging in the entrance doorway. Walking through them gave you the
feeling of being in some foreign country or some sleazy bar. Take your pick. The entire
basement floor was covered with this long haired, furry rug, candles everywhere and some
exercise equipment, like a rowing machine and barbells were over against the wall. She had a
stereo with these large speakers and 78 speed record albums lying all over the floor around the
stereo in kind of a display fashion. "What do you do down here, Mom, dance or something?"
Valerie jokingly asked, as she looked in shock at the scantily dressed belly dancer on the record
album cover, she'd just picked up off the floor. "How did you know, Valerie?" she answered, as
she clacked a pair of castanets in her hand. Valerie looked down at the other albums; yoga, belly
dancing, Eastern Meditation with pictures of guru's and mystics, and one on chanting. She didn't
dare show a glimpse of disapproval.
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25
Grandpa and Grandma Case had lived in a hotel style apartment building for years. You
rang a buzzer that went to their apartment, downstairs at the front door, and them buzzing back
unlocked the front door to let you inside. Their place was bare, with only simple, cheap furniture
here and there. One small picture was mounted in the middle of a wall, that's all. As Valerie and
Michelle sat for hours, talking about old times with Grandpa, he got drunker as the hours went
by. It was hard to get through his grief and drunkenness.
Mom led the way as they drove over to the ice cream parlor Valerie used to go to after
school when she attended Byron Rice Elementary in the third grade. They all ordered a Black
Joe, (chocolate ice cream with marshmallow topping). It was just like it had looked twenty-five
years earlier. She could almost hear the kids yelling, laughing and playing in the vacant lot next
door as she ate her ice cream, at the same booth she used to sit in, as she gazed out the same big
picture window to what was now a parking lot.
Some memories were like a bad dream
somewhere in the darkness of her mind. She fought those thoughts, but they began to come
forward, anyway. She remembered the coat Mom had made her the winter of "57." She had
caught the coat on fire at Witmer Pond that winter, while she was warming herself by the fire
after ice skating on the frozen pond. She couldn't go to school for nearly a week after the beating
she got from her mom.
She thought about the time she had fallen down the basement stairs where they lived, in
her mom's high heels, and ran her finger through the metal fan that was running at the bottom of
the stairs. Her mom had slapped her around that day, and there she was, with her finger just
hanging.
Valerie turned her head around to quickly see the pond again. She remembered, there she
was, eight years old, sitting on the bank next to the water with a fishing pole in her hand. A tall,
thin man was walking across the street to the pond towards her. How many times she had
wanted to tell her mom what that man had done to her, but she didn't dare. It had been a secret
all these years from everyone. She stretched her eyesight to the very back of the pond where she
used to catch polliwogs, and where the forest-like swamp area hid this man and little Valerie as
he violated her innocence.
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26
Valerie went to Grandpa's, again. He was pretty sickly and she knew she'd probably
never see him again.
Suddenly, he began to cry with his face in his hands. "You don't
remember, do you Valerie Jo? You don't remember what I did to you when you were a little
girl? I not only hurt you, Valerie, but I did things to your mother when she was a little girl.... I
guess that's why I drank so much, but the more I drank, the worse I got." Valerie was sickened.
She thought she couldn't hear another word. She was so humiliated, felt so betrayed. "Grandpa,
if you could say one thing to God about all you've done, what would you say?" Valerie asked
him. He sobbed awhile, blew his nose, then looked at her with tears streaming down his old tired
face and said, "Please, please, forgive me."
It didn't take long to get back into that ol' groove, after Valerie came home. They had
tons of vegetables again, and the freezers were full! There was so much food everywhere. They
hadn't even dented last years crops that she had put up so she put an assortment of veggies and a
few chicken eggs in the kid's red wagon and they peddled them throughout the neighborhood,
free, of course. Sallsberry, her neighbor that constantly complained, would flip if he thought
she'd made a dime off of anything.
Roy started selling satellite dishes in the winter of 1980. About that same time Valerie
had a terrible dream. She dreamed she had died and was hovering over their house. She could
see inside the house as if it were transparent. She came back a month or so later in this dream to
find them still so distraught. She left again, and three months later, came back, and hovered over
the house, again. She saw another woman with Roy, using her things. Three months later she
came back. Roy was working in the yard with this other woman. All those things she always
wanted him to do with her. She left and never came back again.
Valerie and Roy were having their eleventh anniversary. Since it was Valerie's 34th
birthday the next day, Roy had two gifts for her. One was a music box, the eleventh one (one for
every year they were together.) The other gift was a beautiful negligee, of course.
One night when Valerie picked up Donna Farris at her home for their weekly trip to their
Santa Barbara Mary Kay meeting, she got in the car with a funny look on her face. "What's
wrong with you?" Valerie asked. "As I was getting out of bed this morning, I had this strange
vision," Donna said. "Wow, a vision," Valerie said, "What did you see?" "There was this spoon
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27
made out of wood. Acacia wood. Thousands of people were being poured into the scoop part of
the spoon. Old, young, black, and white; all kinds of people. The funny thing was the handle of
the spoon. It kept separating from the scoop part. When it would separate the people would stop
pouring into the scoop. When it would reconnect, the people would pour into it again," she said.
"Valerie, the spoon was you. Those lives were being poured into you. The acacia wood was the
same wood God told Noah to build the ark out of because it was so hard, like steel, unable to be
penetrated by bugs or worms. Many, many lives will be affected by your life," she continued.
"One thing I don't understand at all," she added, "the handle of the spoon, it kept separating from
the other part."
They finally arrived at the Mary Kay weekly meeting. "Valerie, you've qualified for the
queen
of
most
booked
sales,
classes
in
one
month in this unit,
most new recruits
and last, but not
least...
"Golden
Girl!"
yelled
Vikki.
Everyone
clapped
wildly.
What in the heck is
a
Golden
Girl,
Valerie wondered.
She stood up to
receive her award
ribbons, as Vikki
put her arm around
her shoulder and
pulled her to the
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28
front of the room where she stood.
Valerie's sales were great, but she was running out of product and needed to turn in a big
order to be able to continue this pace. There went her product. Back to zero again. She had
qualified for D.I.Q. (Director in Qualification) with her last two recruits and was to wear the
honorable "Golden Girl" suit at a special luncheon. Vikki whispered, "I went ahead and paid for
your golden girl suit, Valerie, so here's the bill. Is there any reason why you couldn't take care of
this today?" Valerie opened the envelope slowly. $200.00! Great! Now what was she to do?
The pressure was on, again. She post dated a check, hoping the money would hit the bank before
the check did.
"Anything else I have to have, before I go to Dallas, Vikki?" Valerie asked. "Your D.I.Q.
training is $450, then the plane fare back, plus a little extra spending money, but, everything else
is paid for," she said with her long eyelashes batting at Valerie. Valerie was feeling a little sick.
That night Roy responded, "you're not going to ask me for more money, are you Valerie?
This isn't supposed to cost me anything, remember? It isn't turning out that way, in fact I'm
paying you, or should I say, paying them for you to be in this thing. When do I see the bottom
line, or is there one?" Valerie wished she could have just disappeared so many times in her life.
This was one of those big ones. What a contrast. What a successful failure she was; a hero to
strangers, and a stranger to her family. Which was the phony?
A compromised peace is better than more war so Valerie just said softly, "You're right,
Roy, I'm sorry this has cost you like it has. I can quit if you want. I didn't realize it would cost
so much to be successful." The next morning Roy had left her a check on her desk, for
$1,200.00, but not with his verbal blessings or a hug of approval.
Valerie could hardly believe her eyes, when the tram pulled in front of the huge Dallas
Convention Center; women pouring into the big double doors of this enormous place. All these
women surrounding the massive multi-level building would have fluttered the heart of any male
around. Pink Cadillac’s everywhere, as Directors, Senior Directors, and National Directors
pulled their pink trophies to the curb to let their polished cargo out. Suddenly on stage, another
pink curtain was opened and the middle of the floor, of the stage opened up, as a bran' new,
sparkling, sleek and swanky pink Cadillac rose to the surface with (who else?) but Mary Kay
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29
Ash, in the driver seat. Two men in pink tuxedos opened her car door. The queen emerged,
dressed in a magnificent, sparkling, butterfly flowing gown. The 8,000 plus women went wild as
she entered her platform, ushered by these debonair young gentlemen.
With trophies, ribbons, plaques, jewelry and award certificates, she announced, "I would
like all the Queen of Sales ladies, to stand to their feet."
That was Valerie.
"Next, top
recruiters," Mary Kay announced. Valerie stood up again and Mary Kay's speech continued.
Awards were given. "Next, most creative," Valerie stood. "Next, most classes in one year,"
Valerie stood. "Next, last but not least the honorable Golden Girl award." Valerie stood again.
Valerie felt like Miss America, and Roy was by her side. Mary Kay smiled and nodded at her,
but it was only Roy she was hoping to please. Was this it? Was he proud of her, yet?
Roy rented a
car while in Dallas and
took her to Sherman,
Texas, only 100 miles
away.
Valerie had
found out that her Jay
and Tanya lived there.
"If only I'd known then
what I know now," she thought, "I'd still have my babies." Jay was
only two years old when Valerie lost him. Tanya was seven months
old.
Valerie needed to be with her kids alone. She needed time
alone without Model leaping into every conversation and manipulating
the direction it would go. Valerie cried out to God in her heart for
help. Suddenly Roy spoke up, "So Jay, you work at a drugstore, you
say." "Yes, I do," Jay replied. "Well, maybe he could take you to his
store to get that electric hair curler set you have to have for tomorrow.
You see, Valerie's broke in the suitcase on the flight here." As they sat there in the parking lot of
the drugstore, Jay and Tanya both stared at Valerie through the evening darkness. "I didn't just
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30
give you away, kids," Valerie began the conversation, and the tears tried to come up from the
depth of her belly, but she sucked them down again and continued on. "I had two babies and no
way to feed or clothe you. I can't tell you everything right now that happened, but one day I will.
I'll tell you everything, everything. What I feel is most important now, is that you know just how
very much I've always loved you. Can you hold onto that right now? Is it enough, until we see
each other again someday?" Tanya held up my hand, "Look, our hands are the same," she said,
with tears in her eyes that she had not clue what to do with. They hugged and cried a little. "We
gotta go," Tanya said, "Mama will be wondering what's going on." Once again Valerie held in
her secrete, and awaited her day with her children, once again.
In between the first seminar when Roy went with her, and when she became a director,
nine months later, Valerie cut all her hair off at one of the Mary Kay meetings one night. There
was a lady at the meeting talking about hair styles and asked for a volunteer who would like to
have a hair make over, haircut and all. So, Valerie thought, maybe a new look would be good.
Roy flipped! He never forgave her for that. Valerie never felt as attractive, and along with this
ravenous appetite she couldn't seem to shake off, she started gaining weight right after D.I.Q. in
Dallas that week.
One morning as Valerie was collecting chicken eggs for Michael, she noticed there was a
large clutch of eggs in the corner of the chicken house the hen had been sitting on. All the eggs
were getting cold, she thought. She went ahead and did the rest of Michael's chores, then went
back into the chicken house. The hussy was still outside feeding her face. So, being the kind of
person that takes control when someone obviously doesn't know what they're doing, Valerie
gathered up these neglected eggs into her sweatshirt and proceeded to look for her round
incubator. As she was setting the temperature on the incubator, and then pouring water on an old
sponge for moisture, she heard this faint "peep, peep, peep." She lifted the tail of her sweatshirt
up, that cradled the eggs, to listen closer. "Peep, peep." She quickly loaded the incubator,
looking and listening carefully at each egg to find this poor little thing that was probably freezing
half to death. Finally, she saw this little beak sticking through this tiny hole in one of the eggs.
"Peep, peep." The little chick inside peeped even more when Valerie picked up the egg in her
hands, cupping both hands over it to warm it some. She was bound and determined to save this
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31
chick. She put on an apron with pockets and wrapped the egg in a washcloth, then placed it into
the pocket. She'd just do her chores with one hand in that pocket on the egg to keep it warm.
By noon that day, the hole was only a tiny bit larger. Valerie figured he was too weak
maybe so she cracked the hole larger. Not much, just enough to give it a little boost. By 3:00
not much change. The egg was plenty warm, so Valerie opened it a little more. Bless its heart.
After all, mama left it to die, what chance could it have to survive? By 6:00 p.m., a little change,
not much, so she cracked it a bigger hole. She could see its little wet feathers, and it just "peep,
peep, peeped," like it was appreciative that Valerie was there to take control. By 8:00 p.m.
Valerie had cracked it completely open... and the baby chick died.
She sat with the little lifeless body in her hand and cried. She needed that little chick to
live. She needed to see her efforts produce life. She looked up to the dark blue evening sky,
with tears rolling down her face and said, "Why didn't it live. I did most of the shell cracking?
Look at all the effort I put into trying to save its life." God seemed to whisper into her heart, "In
order for it to live, to be strong, to survive in its world, it was necessary that it struggle by itself
to get out of the shell."
There was so much food that year. Valerie met a lady at the grocery store, named Roslie
Spry. She had nine kids and was married to an alcoholic, drug addict. Her two youngest were
twins. Her oldest son, Buddy, was in and out of trouble all the time. Valerie gave one of her
home grown, butchered turkeys to Roslie for her family and asked her to come to the house and
they'd pick fresh, all of her Thanksgiving dinner together.
Roslie helped Valerie butcher her turkey. They had a blast. When they'd finished
dressing the big, forty-five pound giant, they loaded up her truck with fresh picked corn,
potatoes, carrots, salad fixins, green beans, several loaves of homemade bread, milk, cottage
cheese, yogurt, sour cream, fresh eggs, and Valerie even threw in a ham, frozen strawberries,
frozen blue berries and home canned pumpkin. Roslie was in tears, at her feast. All home
grown. "I'll be gleaning from a harvested tomato field, Saturday. Do you want to come? I know
the farmer. There are tons of tomatoes, the harvesters miss. They'll just till them under, if we
don't get some. I can teach you how to can, freeze and dehydrate; that way, you can put up food
for your own family. Do you want to?" Valerie asked. Before long, Valerie had ten families that
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she was providing with food. Valerie was meeting all kinds of people. She even got her fences
painted, service for service. From these humble beginnings, Valerie's vision of feeding the
hungry masses of the world began; food, clothing, and shelter.
It was the middle of summer, May 10, 1981. Valerie was doing her usual animal chores.
Betsy the cow and all the other animals that roamed the pasture were unusually calm this
particular morning. It was strange and peaceful. Valerie had never felt this before. She kept on
working.
Then suddenly a voice spoke directly to her inner Being. There was no other thought; it
was coming from both the inside and outside of all that she was, was meant to be and all that she
would ever become. With a resounding voice that seemed to permeate the very air she breathed,
and everything around it, she heard, "DAUGHTER!" “He called me daughter," she thought
with an explosion of sudden comprehension of the meaning of this word. Valerie suddenly knew
that she belonged, in greater measure than she could have ever dreamed. She did have a daddy,
and He loved her, He loved her personally, as if she were the only person in the world.
"Valerie, you will be instrumental in feeding hungry people, spirit, soul and body, in hard
times that are coming." Then everything opened up into a vision. There was this huge
building, it was so huge. There were people coming and going. She could see rooms, lots of
rooms in this place. She saw a clothing boutique where mothers had their little children trying
on coats and shoes, in fact, it was like a huge department store where needs could and were being
met. Men were looking through Levis and work boots. Another area was set aside as a barber
and beauty shop. In a large area with a huge fireplace, she saw shelf after shelf of books and
tapes. It was a library. People could relax and learn all sorts of ways to better their lives and
heal of their painful issues they struggled with: spirit, soul and body.
There was an enormous dining area. It was decorated with fine white cloth tablecloths
and cloth napkins, as if it were some elegant restaurant. However, the guests were the hurting,
the poor and the needy? They were people that are not treated with such dignity as this. Were
those volunteers helping to serve at the table? All kinds of people were helping one another: old,
young, black, white, rich, poor, all denominations. There were no labels. Valerie couldn’t tell if
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the people there were recipients or those with something to give. Everyone blended into one and
the love of all was without measure.
The vision continued, showing Valerie rows and rows of crops growing food. Fruits and
vegetables were plenteous. People were weeding, hoeing and harvesting. The food was for
people in need, in need of not only food because they were hungry physically, but food because
there was a nutritional need within them as well. They needed spiritual, physical and mental
nourishment, and the needs were being met, and God’s unconditional love was the power and the
force behind all that was being done. There was every need being met there, no one did without.
"Where is this place?" Valerie asked. The picture backed up and she saw the Solvang Castle, the
Y.W.A.M. Headquarters building. How could this be possible? Then she remembered nothing
is impossible with God. This "tour" of the building went on for some time....
Valerie felt so honored, but couldn't understand why God would choose someone like her
for such a special project, and such an enormous one. How could she possible accomplish such a
mandate alone? There was no answer to that question. Once again God spoke, this time asking,
"Are you willing to pay the price?" "Sure, Lord, I'll do anything you tell me to do, You know
this" she answered. But once more He asked the question, "Are you willing to pay the price?"
She hesitated, wondering why she was being asked the same question twice, then said, "Yes,
Lord, I'll pay whatever I have to, to serve you. You know I will. I love you, Lord." "Valerie,"
He asked her the third time, "Are you willing to pay the price?" This time her heart sickened.
What could He mean? What price could there be to be paid? She didn't fully understand what He
meant by "pay the price." She had no money. All she had was her life and she had already given
that to Him, for what it was worth. Her life was His now. Although a little perplexed He would
ask her this same question three times, she recognized there was seriousness to His request and
that it wasn't to be taken lightly, but Valerie trusted Him so. "Yes... I will pay any price Lord,"
she said slowly. This time the answer was received and the Spirit of God said to her, "Then…
put your hands to the plow and don't look back." And at this, His presence left. Valerie
found herself on her knees, briefly not knowing where she was. She felt exhilarated, yet so
humbled. "My gosh, I'd better get back to work," she thought.
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The thought of how tired she was, with all of her other responsibilities didn't enter
Valerie’s mind. If she was to feed hungry people, she would, even if she had to do it all by
herself. From that moment on she just put herself in high gear. She figured she would just do
what she had been doing... only bigger! God would guide her, showing her the way where there
didn't seem to be one. She couldn’t read a package of seeds, but He’d taught her how to garden,
and just about the time she knew she was to do something impossible, beyond her ability to
accomplish it, here He came with the provision.
Roy had taken a one million dollar insurance policy out on himself and one on Valerie.
She guessed it was for the kids, in case something happened to them. Sadly, she weighed around
185 pounds and because of the sudden weight gain, and the large amount of the policy she was
required to have a physical by a doctor that the insurance company recommended. She was so
scared about going to a male doctor after all she'd been through in her life time with them. She'd
have a sore throat, and they would want her to take off her clothes so they could do a pelvic
exam.
At the doctor's office that day, Valerie sat in his office with her sweatshirt and jeans on,
as unattractive as she could make herself, hoping it would discourage any hankie-panky
whatsoever. She answered his questions and figured that would be it. "Have you had any
surgeries in your life time?" this heavy set, over-middle aged doctor asked. "Yes, I've had a
hysterectomy in 1974 and exploratory surgery in 1969 and breast implants in 1976," she told him
hoping that would wrap that up, and she could go home.
"Well," he said, getting up from behind the desk, "I'll need to examine you. It's required
by law, whenever there's been surgery involved, there must be an examination done for the
insurance company’s benefit." "What kind of exam?" she asked, her heart beating a hundred
miles an hour. "Just the required usuals," he said, as he ushered her into an examining room and
handed her a gown. "Strip everything off, please." "Wait a minute," Valerie said, standing there
with the gown dangling off her hand, as he walked away. "I was under the impression, there
would be no physical exam needed," she said timidly. She was so afraid; she could have crawled
in a hole somewhere. She wanted to run out the door. She could just hear Roy say, "you've got
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to stop this, Valerie, you make all this up in your sick head. Everyone's always after Valerie."
She'd look like such a weakling in his eyes, again.
Valerie sat shyly on the examining table, like a little girl waiting for punishment, hoping
a nurse or some female would come in there too. To her horror, he came in by himself. As he
talked about the breast implant surgery and Dr. Dennis being a fine cosmetic surgeon, he felt
around her breast as if he were kneading bread dough, only very slowly, covering nearly every
inch. She closed her eyes and screamed inside her mind. "Since you had a hysterectomy, I need
to examine the scar and the internal position of your remaining ovary. Dr. Green is a good
gynecologist," he said, as he inserted his bare fingers into her vagina, very slowly. She wanted
to cry out loud, "someone, please help me!" She could sense he was aroused sexually, but what
if it were all in her head and he wasn't, then she'd be the fool. Victims perfect the art of
avoidance. They withdraw ever so slowly, sometimes, if need be, within themselves. You feel
so exploited within yourself. What if you had to prove you spoke the truth? Back then, people
weren't coming forward with sexual harassment.
Feeling dirty and disgusted, she got up and dressed to go into the EKG room for the final
exam, so relieved it was all over. She almost felt like she'd been in a trance as she walked down
the hall to the room at the end. Suddenly, "Mr. Doctor" entered the room, with this silly look on
his face. "Have you noticed her breasts, nurse?" he blurted out. The nurse's mouth was wide
open in shock. He then said something else, unrepeatable.
When Roy got home, he reacted just like Valerie knew down deep he would. After
arguing and finally getting Dr. Petterson on the phone, "Yes, this is the Scott's. Listen, Dr.
Petterson, my wife said she had some problems today at your office, can you explain to me what
happened?" Roy asked, as if he were selling a satellite dish to the man. "Yes, I see, yes, okay,
yes, I know, okay, thank you, Dr. Petterson, okay."
Something in Valerie began to die that day, as once again she was left feeling abandoned,
betrayed, belittled and outraged by Roy's lack of protection and support. How could he say he
loved her and not defend her, and not even believe that she was telling the truth about it all. She
had a witness. Matters were even made worse when she tried to report this so called doctor to
the insurance company, to protect future women from this happening to them. The insurance
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man couldn't believe this nice man that everyone knew all over their small town, could do such a
thing. She ended up embarrassing Roy even more, because the insurance company was laughing
about it.
Like the song says, "Every time you throw dirt on me, you lose a little ground." Roy and
Valerie were slipping apart, the fire she once had that burned so bright, was barely a flicker and
she couldn't seem to stop it. She wore long sleeved, flannel granny gowns to bed to cover as
much of her as she could. She'd wake up in the morning with the back end of the gown pulled
tightly up between her legs, not even realizing she was doing it; a way for this damaged little girl
in her to protect herself.
Spring was not too far away, and everything was pregnant, and almost ready to deliver.
She didn't quite know how their neighbor, Mr. Sallsberry was going to handle four cows, two
horses, six pregnant goats (that usually delivered two or three kids each), a sow on her third litter
that would most likely have at least seven. Let's see, that's thirty-six four legged animals, so far.
"I'm only supposed to have four," she remembers Mr. Sallsberry telling her.
One morning, Valerie took off in her old green truck to see a man named Jim
Christensen. Roy had known Jim for years. They used to drive trucks for a guy named Yankie
that had a trucking business in Santa Barbara. Jim was a real character. He had a mouth like a
sewer and intimidated his way into what he wanted. A shrewd businessman that succeeded in
everything he did. His eyes sorta bugged out because of his years of drinking, drugs and fast,
hard living. He often bragged on his massive collection of Playboy magazines that dated all the
way back to the original issue. You might ask why Valerie was going to see such a man. Didn't
sound like anyone she should get within fifty yards of, but he was into the same things she was;
animals, bees, organic gardening, so see, he wasn't all bad. She was going to do some trading
with him that day.
He owned part of a mountain made out of sand and shale, and mined the mountain,
selling the sand and shale for building roads and such. "Chris' Sand and Shale," was the name of
his business. For some reason Jim went by the name of Chris.
Valerie drove up to his mountain to make a deal. When she got there, Jim was cussing,
ranting and raving about something. Man, did he have a gutter mouth. His tongue would tear
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you to pieces. If Jim didn't like you, you may as well leave town, because you didn't want to get
on Jim's bad list.
"Hi, Jim," Valerie said, getting out of the truck, fanning the dust in the air so she could
see him better. "Have I caught you at a bad time? I can come back another day if you like." She
didn't quite know how to handle the situation, but had a peace about why she was there. "Hell
no, you're not bothering me. I'm just pissed off about that son of a bitch that was supposed to be
here an hour ago. As if I ain't got enough sense to know when some bastard is trying to screw
me around. That fucker better stay damn sure clear from me, or I'll blow his fuckin’ head off and
serve it to him for lunch. I get so sick of people. They piss me off so bad." Valerie just stood
there, watching this man's rage. His wife, Donna, was a real sweet person. She put up with a lot
out of Jim. They had two daughters, Tonya and Cindy.
Before long Jim was laughing and sharing all his experiences with Valerie, with his
animals, growing food and all. They exchanged ideas and made a deal (or trade) for some
"Rhode Island Red Chickens," and she told him that he could use her bee equipment anytime he
wanted to, to work on or harvest his bees. He gave her some feeder buckets, he had laying
around, and she got into her truck. Just as she started the engine she said, "You know, Jim, that
God that you curse, loves you. Look at all He's given you. You curse Him; He blesses you; that
doesn't sound like much of a deal. Hang in there, Mr. Jim," she said, tapping his shoulder with
her fist.
The next day Valerie was unloading feed out of her truck when here came Jim blasting
down her driveway in his pickup truck and screeching to a halt throwing gravel all over the
place.
"Hi, what a nice surprise," she said, wondering what in the heck prompted this
unexpected visit. Jim slowly got out of his pickup and slumped over the hood of his truck with
his face in his hands. When he looked up, his eyes were red from crying. "You know yesterday,
what you said?" She'd said a lot of things. She wondered what he was referring to. "You know,
about cussing and God's name and Him loving me and all? I couldn't seem to shake it off," and
he started to cry again. "How do I know God, Valerie?"
To prove he was serious, like only Jim could do, he unloaded cases and cases of beer and
other booze from his cellar into his pickup, his marijuana, and yes, all of his collector's porno
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books. It was all worth a small fortune; drugs and all. He told Donna, Tonya and Cindy to get
in, "Daddy's going to the dump." He and his family watched while his priceless collection was
bulldozed into a pit.
Valerie got a telephone call from her friend and ex-boss, Mary Lou Smeckel, (remember,
head school bus driver?) She had some real sad news for Valerie about her dear friend, Loretta,
(the lady that told her about "orgasm"). The doctor had found cancer in Loretta's breasts. She
had to have a total mastectomy.
Valerie and Roy drove to a town by Ventura, California, called Ojai. There was an ad in
the Santa Barbara paper, she wanted to check out. Valerie had always wanted a parrot. They
had a huge fifty foot by fifty foot aviary. The parrot could fly free all around in there. There
was that beautiful pond and this spring jasmine would be covering all the wire. The ceiling of
this aviary was at least fifteen feet high. She had Kiwi fruit growing up one side of the wire with
cattails (or pussy willow) growing freely around the pond. Flower bulbs were planted all over
inside. About sixty white doves flew freely, and she had three or four pairs of parakeets in there
too. There were some mallard ducks and a gorgeous male peacock that strutted full feathered
around. Macaws would really make it special.
They finally arrived at this man's home. The birds were beautiful, but he couldn't
guarantee they were breeders. He said they had to be surgically sexed and they were only three
years old anyway. They wouldn't begin breeding until they were five years old, even if they
were a real pair. They weren't tame at all, in fact, they were scared of everything, oh, but they
were beautiful, and the price was right. Remember, it couldn't cost Roy anything. Valerie
bartered one half a butchered processed pig and a home raised, smoked turkey, five fresh caught
lobster tails, two fresh abalone and twenty pounds of home raised hamburger meat. Oh yes, and
a gallon of her home grown bee honey. Yum! This guy was thrilled. He even threw in an old
African Gray Parrot, that only had one foot. He said a bobcat got into his bird aviary one night
and killed her mate, bit her foot off, and killed another parrot, before he finally shot it. Valerie
named her Mildred, you'll find out why she named it that later. Within a week or two, Mildred,
the parrot, was calling, "Michael" every morning and every evening right at the times he did his
chores. It was so funny watching her looking for Michael and calling him like she did. She
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couldn't get around very well with one foot, but she managed. Then as soon as Michael got to
the aviary, here would come his pet turkey, Tom, wobbling as fast as he could to greet Michael
at the gate, in hopes he'd throw him in a handful of chicken feed.
Valerie didn't have to look far to fulfill her dream to help alleviate humanities' suffering.
One afternoon, as she was driving back home from Santa Barbara, she picked up a girl that was
hitchhiking along Highway 101. She was actually homeless, so Valerie brought her home with
her. She knew Roy wouldn't let her stay at the house, but at least she could clean her up some,
she smelled awful. Her hair was matted and stiff. Underneath all of that rank smell and
repulsive crusty filth was somebody's little girl. Valerie filled her bathtub with sweet smelling
bubbles and laid out a thick mauve colored towel and an outfit she used to wear when she was in
a size nine, shampoo and cream rinse. Then she gathered up an array of Mary Kay products;
cleansing cream, foundation, eye shadows, mascara and some of her nicest perfume and put it all
in a small pink over night bag with a mirror on the inside lid, she'd won once in her other world.
She couldn't believe all this was happening to her. While she was soaking in her bubbles,
Valerie made her something to eat. She said she hadn't eaten in three days, so Valerie heated up
some of her fresh garden minestrone soup. She was such a pretty girl all cleaned up. She looked
like a regular person, now. She didn't eat much, because of being without food so much of the
time.
They spent the entire day talking. Becky was her name. She had run away from home at
sixteen. Now nineteen, she'd done everything, to everyone, to survive. She'd been in jail several
times for prostitution in Los Angeles, been arrested for stealing food in a market, had two
abortions and one miscarriage. Finally, because of having no regular address and that making it
impossible for her to get a steady job, she just resorted to living in the streets whenever she could
find a place safe to sleep. She said the only safety she could find was by letting herself get so
obnoxiously filthy that no one would touch her. She'd been raped several times; twice beaten
and raped, so this was her only defense. "Be a scum bag," she called it. Her eyes filled with
tears as she sat there looking down at her white clean hands and fingernails. She pulled a cluster
of her blond, soft curls around to the front of her face to look at them. "I almost forgot I had
blond hair," she said, smelling its sweet perfume.
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"Becky," Valerie said suddenly, "I have an idea. As much as I would love for you to stay
here and live, you can't, but I will trade out with you until we can find you a job and a place to
live. I really need your help around here. I need you to clean this huge house for me in
exchange for staying in the camper and meals. It's not real big, but it has a stove and sink, bed
and eating table. It's real cozy. There's no bathroom in it so we'll have to figure out something
else for that. One problem is the camper's parked right next to the fence by our neighbor, Mr.
Sallsberry. He's real nosy, and if he thinks you're living in the camper, he might stir up a stink so
keep it low, okay?"
Valerie located a man that was willing to trade one of her steers for his old van. It ran
pretty good, just looked like it was shot. Valerie used her address and Becky got her drivers
license. Just as Sallsberry was asking questions, Becky was ready to leave.
One day when Valerie came home from collecting a truck load of left-over bread from
the store, she saw this older woman, wandering around the side of the house. She was frail
looking, very petite, and carried herself very much like a lady. "Can I help you?" Valerie asked
this curious person walking around her house. "Oh yes, thank you," the lady said. "Are you
Valerie Scott? I've been hearing about you."
Mildred was a great humanitarian. She had begun several programs in the valley to help
the under privileged. She was a pioneer. She began them, and then others took over. Valerie
named the African Gray parrot after her.
One morning Valerie received a phone call from Velma, (Bob Hicks' wife). Valerie's
mom was dying. Her mom didn't want anyone to know. Velma only knew because of Valerie's
stepsister, Debbie, telling her. She was in the V.A. Hospital with terminal cancer. Velma said
her mom had the most painful type of cancer there was, Multiple Myeloma. There was no more
bone marrow in her bones, only cancer cells. She had just coughed and broke her spleen, Velma
said. The bones were like honeycomb: full of holes and very fragile.
Valerie called the V.A. Hospital where she was, and asked to talk to her. They had a
nurse in her room all the time; she was so near death, and writhing in pain. As she waited for the
operator to connect her with the nurse in Mom's room, her mind flashed back to when she was
only eleven or so. The beatings were so often that she got from Mom and her words hurt so
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deeply. Valerie had wished out loud one day she would die the most painful death there ever
was for how she'd treated her and her little sister, Debbie. As those destructive words now
echoed in Valerie's heart, she cried, "God forgive me, forgive her."
"Hello, this is the nurse, can I help you?" she said. "Yes, this is Dorothy Hick's daughter
that lives in California. I'd like to speak to my mother, please," Valerie said. "I'm sorry, but
your mother is in a lot of pain. Just the phone to her ear would be very painful," she added. "Put
the phone to her ear, please. Now, I must tell her something." Valerie heard the nurse say
something to her mom and a rustling kinda sound, then a very faint voice, very weak, say,
"Valerie? Valerie?" "Don't talk Mom; I have to tell you something. I just want you to listen to
me a minute. Please just listen. You're getting ready to slip into eternity, Mom. Forever and
ever, and you're not ready. You don't know God." Then she heard this squeaking sound and a
lot of rustling again. "Hello, hello, Mom, are you there?" Valerie said compassionately. "This is
the nurse speaking. I'm very sorry, but Mrs. Hicks has become very upset and doesn't want to
speak to you any longer."
Valerie needed a pastor from Des Moines, Iowa to visit her mom right away. After
making some contacts with the PTL Club, one week later she received a letter from a pastor in
Des Moines with a message from her mom. Since Mom was unable to write, the pastor quoted
her word for word, "Valerie, this is Mom. I want you to know I've given my heart to God, and I
am so happy inside. Outside I die, inside I live. Thank you for not giving up on me. I will see
you in heaven one day, honey. I love you, Valerie," Your Mother. A week later her Mom was
well enough to go home.
Valerie spent a lot of time with her new found friends, which included Mildred. Mildred
was so funny, in such a naive sorta way. She never tried to change Valerie in any way, but
accepted her just as she was crazy vocabulary and all. She was such an educated woman and
still so humble and open to learn from everyone, anything she could. She said to Valerie once, “I
know what I know; I want to know what you know.” She loved different cultures of people. One
day, Mildred and she were talking about something, and Valerie talked about there being this
"pile on me." Mildred looked at her so seriously, and with great sophistication she replied, "Why
Valerie, what kind of pile are you speaking of?" Valerie had to laugh. Later Valerie was visiting
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at their house and she and her husband, Ron, were in a heated discussion about something, when
Mildred said to him something that just floored Valerie, "Oh, Ron, don't put no 'pile on me'."
Pastor Ron was shocked at what had come out of his wives mouth. Then he responded, "Why
Mildred, what kind of pile are you talking about?" Valerie just seems to rub off on the strangest
people.
Valerie would chomp on her gum, talk about "freaking out, flipping out, that's awesome,
far out, I'm totally sure," and Mildred would just smile as if Valerie and just love her anyway.
Because Valerie usually didn’t talk to growing up, her
vocabulary was very limited.
One day Mildred said
something Valerie would never forget, "Remember
something very important about people if you want them
to love God the way you do. Valerie, dear, first you have
to get to know everyone regardless of color, rich, and poor,
old, young. It is all about getting to know them, building relationship and accepting them as they
are. In everything you say or do... you're planting a seed good or bad. One day you will reap a
harvest from what you have said and done to others." Valerie never forgot her friend’s wisdom
as this new character developed deep within her. Valerie was being transformed day by day.
For their vacation that year, Roy rented a hotel apartment for a week in San Francisco in
an old building overlooking Main Street. It was like something out of a mafia gangster movie.
Valerie was sure it had the original red velvet flowered wallpaper from the early twenties in it,
claw leg bathtub, and those funny steel steam heaters in each room. The sun had been down for
an hour or so, their first night there, when Valerie rolled up the window blind and leaned over to
see down to the street below from the third floor. "Oh, my God," she yelled, "Roy come here,"
tears welled in her eyes and she began to cry, her hands over her face. "What's wrong, honey,"
Roy said, hurrying over to see what had upset her so much. "Oh, that? That's the oldest
profession in the world, haven't you heard?" Roy said. Valerie couldn't believe her eyes. These
girls were so young. There were so many of them, everywhere. "Don't you ever turn it off,
Valerie?" Roy said in disgust. "Hey, that's life. Let's don't start this Mother Teresa stuff. We're
on our vacation! I'm going to bed," he said, stomping off to the bedroom. Valerie stayed by the
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window that night and cried and cried as she watched these young women, or more like girls, get
into a car with a strange man and drive away. The next morning, her eyes were all swollen from
crying the night before, over all the prostitutes that she had seen on the street below their motel
room. She looked out the window that morning to just another ordinary busy street, where like
vampires coming out of their graves at night, these girls had also vanished just before dawn.
They'd decided to walk to the harbor from their motel early one morning, near the end of
their vacation. Roy wanted to check out an old World War II submarine that was on display
there. There were tourists everywhere. There were also street people everywhere: bums, bag
ladies and beggars. No one seemed to notice them as they rummaged through the garbage
dumpsters, in search of food, aluminum cans and whatever else they could scrounge on the
corners of the streets. Once in awhile, finding a half eaten day or two old hamburger, maybe a
half a box of popcorn or what was left of a famous Coney Island hot dog. Roy had given Valerie
about $50.00 that she had wadded up and put in her jeans pocket.
Valerie had especially been watching one man in particular four blocks away until they
passed him. The stench from his body odor caused her
to hold her breath as they passed by.
They went to see the submarine and a bunch of
other stuff, then Roy decided he wanted to visit an
aquarium several blocks on down the street, but still on
the waterfront so they headed in that direction. By this
time it was nearly noon. "Look Roy," Valerie said,
surprised, yet bewildered, "there's that same bum," she whispered, pulling on Roy's arm. "Oh,
Valerie, you see one bum, you've seen-em-all, are we on this again?" Roy snapped, as he walked
a little faster.
They went to the aquarium, then they walked, it seemed miles into town where the
trolleys were. They stopped at a restaurant for dinner. Afterwards, they stood on the sidewalk,
watching a mime juggling invisible balls as they licked on their waffle-cone ice cream. Valerie
nearly choked when she saw something she could hardly believe with her eyes: miles and miles
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away, hours and hours later, there he was again: the bum, that same man, digging through
another dumpster just down the street from where they stood.
This time Valerie didn't hesitate, she walk down the street where the man was bent over,
pushing papers aside, and digging through all the trash. "Excuse me, sir," she said, reaching into
the dumpster to embrace his hand. His fingernails were nasty, but she touched his hand anyway,
and placed the wad of bills slowly inside, then closed his hand inside of hers. His face was
filthy-sooty black like his hands, but she hardly notices as she stood there gazing up into the
most indescribably, strikingly blue, piercing eyes, she'd ever seen.
They were
transparent/translucent blue like the sparkling clear waters she had seen in Hawaii. He didn't say
a word. When she turned back to tell the man good-bye... he was gone.
When they'd gotten home from San Francisco, Guy was ready to quit. Mr. Sallsberry had
put him through an emotional ringer. Four more baby goats had been delivered while they were
gone, one more pregnant doe to go.
He said Valerie was obviously raising animals for
commercial purposes. She tried to reason with him. There were no smells, no flies, and
everything was kept so beautifully organized.
Finally, a week or so later, here came three more baby goats. Valerie was in the barn
helping Heather (the mama goat) deliver, and number three had just come out. She was drying
off little number three, when she heard this man clear his throat. She turned around and there
stood Jim Sallsberry in the doorway of the barn. "You just don't listen, do you?" he told her with
fire in his eyes, waving a paper in the air. "It's a citation. Your zoo, farm, business, whatever
you want to call it, is history. You won't be selling anything anymore. If you as much as sell an
egg... you've had it," he roared.
Valerie called the phone number on the citation. It was for the County Ordinance
department. Jim was right. Her animals, most of them had to go. According to their rules, all
she could have was two four-legged animals per acre. They had two acres. Within two weeks,
animal after animal was given away, and Valerie’s heart was hurting and confused. She thought
she was to raise food for hungry people in hard times that were coming. How could this be
happening? What about all she had learned?
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As the last of her animals were being trucked away, here came Sallsberry. The poultry
was next. He said Valerie had too many and the peacocks kept the neighbors awake at night,
yelling. "They sound like a woman yelling for help” Sallsberry blasted.
Valerie finally decided to go to the county courthouse to find out about her bartering.
There was no ordinance on bartering. She explained to some officials what she'd been doing the
past four years with her animals, and some about her bartering. They were so impressed! That
night they held a special meeting and, the next morning, informed her by phone that it would be
put in the county ordinance... she could barter all she wanted. That was good news for somebody
someday.
It sure was a lot different without all her animals around. Valerie called a lady that raised
birds in Ojai, California. She told her about her dilemma, and that she couldn't sell these
macaws, but, "could they trade?" "I'd love to have a female pet parrot, I could raise from a
baby," Valerie said. The lady decided before she made any deals, she needed to come to
Valerie's house to check out these Macaws. She came a few days later, and drilled a hole into
the back of the barrel, the home of the Macaws, so they could see in at the female (or male),
whoever was in there. She looked through the hole. "It's alive, probably sick or something. Tell
you what," she said climbing down from the ladder she'd leaned against the barrel. "I have a
connection in Los Angeles. What kind of parrot do you want?"
Just a day or so later, here she came driving down the driveway. She took a small cage
out of the back of her camper shell. "Here's your new baby," she said, proudly handing Valerie
the cage: this ugly, big beaked, bony, ball of frizzy down? This was her parrot? It looked like a
just hatched baby vulture. It couldn't even stand up on the perch, it was so uncoordinated. "This
little thing is going to make you a wonderful bird."
She put the ladder up against the barrel, climbed up three or four steps, and peeped
through the hole. "Oh, wow!" she yelled. "What is it?" Valerie asked, "Let me see." She slowly
climbed down off the ladder and Valerie climbed up and peeked through the small hole. There
stood the Macaw; looked healthy to Valerie. "What... what's that on the floor? Why it's eggs,
three of them!" These chicks, if they hatched would be worth $800.00 a piece on the spot. The
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proven breeder pair would be worth from $1,600 to $1,800 and Valerie had traded for that ugly
thing that couldn't even stand on
a perch? Valerie was being conned and knew it. Roy would be furious.
They named the little Nape parrot, "Sasha." The woman from Ojai, threw in a little
pocket parrot, along with Sasha: a Conroe. They kept it outside in the aviary. When Valerie
would put Sasha outside in the sunshine during warm days, this little parrot, (Baby, they named
it) would crawl through a hole in the aviary wire and fly across the yard to where Sasha was
perched and sit by her all day. Sasha would say, "hi," and Baby would keep repeating, "Baby,
Baby, Baby." When Valerie took Sasha in the house in late afternoon, Baby would fly back to
the aviary, through the hole and hang around Mildred, (the parrot) as she began to call, "Michael,
Michael." It was time for Michael to do his chores. Valerie heard on the news, this lady's bird
aviaries had been destroyed in a fire. There had been a real bad fire that summer that had swept
through parts of Santa Barbara, Ojai, and some of Ventura.
Because of the satellite dish, there was a smorgasbord of programs on TV, a hundred or
more channels. Their home was being invaded and violated by the constant negative influence
of the violence, cursing, and explicit sexual garbage pouring out of the TV set. It was like
cookin' a frog. Slowly their minds were justifying more and more of what they shouldn't be
exposed to. Valerie could see it poisoning the kids’ young minds. It was becoming a real battle
ground between Roy and her. Mom was looking more and more like a fuddy-duddy. Valerie
was beginning to feel a squeeze that was making her life a bad dream. She began having terrible
nightmares at night. She'd wake up horror stricken and filled with fear that was so gripping, she
wouldn't be able to speak or move. She was always naked, abandoned, alone and lonely, and
very misunderstood by everyone dear to her. These dreams were always sexual, and very
violent. She was beaten, raped, chased and verbally assaulted.
These dreams became so
frequent that Valerie became afraid to go to bed at night for fear of having one as soon as she fell
to sleep. She tried talking to Roy about it, but he thought she was nuts, as usual.
Strange things were happening everywhere. They started having problems with the car,
the trucks, the washer and dryer broke, the septic tank backed up, the family room flooded again
(ruining the carpet). Roy's business started having employee problems and machinery problems.
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The bookkeeper made a $20,000 mistake in the books. The boat engine blew up and Roy lost his
lobster traps in a storm. The kids were sick with everything from ear aches to bladder infections,
colds and flu. Rebecca and Michelle couldn't sleep at night. Betsy mis-carried her calf. The
beehives had a foul-brood disease. The fruit trees were diseased with mildew and fire-blithe.
Valerie tried many times that year to breed Manna, but she wouldn't conceive. They had gophers
they had never had before, a raccoon killed Michael's pet turkey, Tom; and Valerie was getting
fatter, and fatter, and fatter; nearly 230 pounds worth.
One night, Michelle came downstairs crying. She was shaking with fright. She said her
kitten posters on her wall would turn into hideous faces. They weren't monsters like in the
movies, they were worse. Roy blamed it on pizza before bed, a wild imagination, or a hormone
surge. He said he had em' at fifteen years old. She also said, she could feel someone pulling at
her covers at the end of the bed. She said she wasn't dreaming because she wasn't asleep when it
happened. Month after month there was more of the same kind of things: a lot of fighting,
arguing, mishaps, and nightmares. Everything had changed.
On Highway 101, which was the main street through Santa Barbara, back in the early
80's, there used to be hitchhikers lined up and down the highway with signs, needing rides.
There also was an old lady that you always saw, everyday, 365 days a year, rain and wind and
the heat of day, there she was handing out tracts to the hitchhikers walking up and down the
highway where they were, talking to all the young people about God. Valerie had been told that
she was a Jehovah Witness, but did not know for sure. Valerie made some unkindly remark
about her one day as they were passing by and saw her there passing out tracts to the hitchhikers
in her straw sun hat and her long gray coat. At church the next Sunday they asked for prayer for
"Highway Emma." She had been badly beaten up by some men that drug her into the bushes and
literally kicked her face in. She had several broken bones and was in a coma. The pastor went
on to say that "Highway Emma had been a very misunderstood lady because people don't
understand that kind of dedication and sacrifice now days. She's a beautiful sister, and has led no
tellin' how many hundreds of hitchhikers to God."
Roy took Valerie to the General Hospital and she slowly walked into the ward Emma was
in. There she lay. Her eyelids were black and blue and swollen shut. The side of her face was
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caved in and the other side of her face was bandaged. Her arm was bandaged and she had
internal injuries. Even though she knew that she couldn't hear her, Valerie leaned over her bed
and whispered in her ear, "Emma, you don't know me. Emma, I've said unkind things about you
and what I said wasn't true at all. You don't deserve to be treated this way. Emma, please
forgive me. I was wrong." Then Valerie left.
One evening, Valerie went in Michael's room and pulled his covers up around his neck.
He was already asleep. She stood up and turned towards the door to leave the room, when
suddenly there was in her path this invisible specter (evil spirit). She couldn't see a thing, but she
was aware of its size, both height and width. It began to groan and cry in a female voice. She
sensed in her spirit, it wasn't there because it wanted to be, but because something or someone
was forcing it to confront her.
Roy was watching TV downstairs. "There was a spirit in Michael's room, Roy," Valerie
said. The TV was blaring. "Roy," she repeated, "there was a demon spirit in Michael's room,
did you hear me?" "What do you mean a spirit?" he asked, looking up at her standing there. He
turned down the TV with the remote. Valerie told him what had happened; hoping this little
spark of interest would trigger off some concern. It was too much for him to swallow. "Ghosts,
spooks, demons, witches and devils are probably real, because the Bible mentions them, but not
in this day and age," he said turning the sound back up on the TV set.
Valerie went into the next room to write a letter, but suddenly, the room got this cold icy
chill in it. It wasn't so much a physical sensation, but more of a knowing that something was in
the house; something not human. "What is going on?" Valerie said, as she got up from the desk
and went into the living room where Roy was. It was even colder in there. She looked at the
TV, just as a bucket of blood was being dumped all over this young girl's head. "What are you
watching," Valerie yelled at Roy. "It's just a movie," Roy yelled back at her. "Just some dumb
movie, will you knock it off with this spooky, hocus-pocus stuff, Valerie, you're making living
with you real hard. I'm sick and tired of all this. Do you hear me?" Roy yelled. "Roy, you're
letting this stuff in our home," Valerie cried. "You're driving me crazy, I'm going to bed," he
said.
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Valerie was in church again one Sunday, and couldn't get her eyes off of this elderly lady.
She had beautiful silver hair. It was Emma, Highway Emma that she'd been staring at all during
the service. Emma was from Czechoslovakia. She had this cute accent. Valerie loved listening
to her talk. One side of her face, near her cheek bone, was dented in and there were a few teeth
missing, but she'd recovered remarkably. Emma and Valerie began building a real special
friendship.
One Sunday upon taking Emma home, Emma said, "Valerie, you're in danger. I saw you
in a vision. You were very lonely and confused. There was no support for you in this place
where you lived. God told me that He will not allow you to be harmed. The old lady had a
demon." "I don't understand," Valerie said, and then suddenly she remembered Lola, Roy's
mom, coming into her house with four long bleeding gashes across her face. They lived in a
trailer house on Valerie and Roy's property with his senile grandma. "Oh, it's Grandma, she's
driving me crazy," she remembers Lola saying. "One minute she's just lying there like she
usually does, and the next minute she is going into a rage. She tore down the trailer curtains the
other day. Today she tore into me, like a wild woman," Lola had said. Valerie's mind replayed
the scene when Grandma had motioned with her hand for her to come to her through the trailer
window. It all began to make some sense, finally. Roy's grandmother was demon possessed.
Valerie shared with Emma about the spirit up in Michael's room. Then Valerie said, "Oh, great!
I got demons all over in my house, and missionaries are coming from Mexico to stay with us."
The family from Mexico arrived, the Spiker family. Pat was tall and blond, and Marna
had fiery red hair. The Spikers were very impressed with their home. Over dinner, they talked
some about their home in Mexico. They all spoke fluent Spanish, of course, even the little three
year old.
It must have been 1:30 a.m., in the middle of the night, when Valerie heard the Spikers'
little girl screaming. It wasn't a scream like crying. It was a blood chilling scream. About the
time she had her robe on, it stopped. Valerie thought maybe she'd had a bad dream and
everything was okay now, so she went back to bed. The next morning they didn't say a word,
but ate breakfast and left for Santa Barbara by 8:00 a.m. It was the day before they were to
leave, around 3:00 p.m. or so, when here they came down the driveway. They apologized they
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hadn't seen them much. Marna looked at Valerie and said, "We already know some of what
you're going through, Valerie. The first night we were here, the baby saw a demon in the corner
of the bedroom. Did you hear her screaming?" she asked. "This is nothing," Pat added. "We
deal with this on a daily basis. Mexico is one of the most spiritually active countries around,
with all the witchcraft and all. We are trained by God on how to deal with it. Do you have any
cooking oil?" he asked. "Sure," Valerie answered, "what for?" "The oil represents the Holy
Spirit, anointing, protection," said Pat. Room after room Marna and Valerie followed Pat
through the house, then outside to Lola and Harold's trailer. The Spikers were gone by the time
Roy and the kids were up that next morning.
Then suddenly Valerie's day dream bubble burst as she saw Harold running toward their
back door with a look of terror on his face. Valerie met him at the door. He was speechless, and
his face was white as a ghost. "Do you want me to call an ambulance?" Valerie yelled. He
nodded his head, yes. Valerie quickly dialed the police department number she knew so well.
Then she ran to the trailer. Old grandma was vomiting coal black vomit across the room. She
was lying on the bed stark naked. Her eyes were rolled back into her head and black vomit
drooled down her chin and onto her bare chest. Valerie didn't have a thought for the grossness of
it all at the time; she just dove in to take control as usual, while everyone just seemed to stand
around with their mouths open
in disbelief at what they were seeing. Since she had gone through some first aid training when
she was a school bus driver, she knew some CPR. The problem was she couldn't quite remember
the full procedure. She knew the Heimlich Maneuver would clear the air way and mouth to
mouth resuscitation would put air in the lungs so she grabbed a dish towel, wiped off the vomit
from her face and started mouth to mouth. Then she flipped her up to a sitting position and got
in behind her, put her arms around her from the back, fists just below her center ribs and pulled
in tight. Out, pitch black vomit would spew. Then she'd quickly lie her back down, wipe her
face and start over. After three or four times, her eyes rolled back to normal and each time she'd
lie her back down, they'd be glaring at Valerie. Valerie repeated this over and over, while Roy,
Lola and Harold watched in shock. "Where is the ambulance?" Valerie yelled. "I don't know
how much longer I can do this." Finally her lungs were just too full of this black awful stuff, and
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when Valerie laid her back down, her eyes froze in a terrible stare into her face, and the life left
as they quickly became dull and lifeless. Valerie sat there with her arm behind her neck. The
grandmother's mouth was wide open, while this awful stuff bubbled up her throat and dripped
from her mouth. She was dead. Within seconds the whole atmosphere changed. You couldn't
see a physical change. It's not like the light got lighter and the birds sang louder or anything like
that, but it was like a heavy oppression lifted, everywhere in the room. Her soul and spirit had
left her body and so did whatever possessed her. The ambulance came about ten minutes later
and tried to revive her, but couldn't.
By summer, Valerie was feeding forty families on a regular basis. Valerie didn't just
hand out food to them, she shared what she had, but mostly the women and she would glean
fields of vegetables in Lompoc, a nearby farming town. After every harvest, thousands and
thousands of pounds of food goes to waste that could be harvested by, or for, those needing food.
It was corn, tomatoes, onions and squash in the fall, and cases and cases and cases of
strawberries that were just less than perfect. Soon these forty families had so much food; they
were giving out of their abundance. Depending on what they'd picked, the ladies would meet on
Tuesdays and Thursdays, and can, freeze and dehydrate.
One afternoon, one of the mother's from the kids school came over to the house: Maggie
and Valerie sat in the living room and she began to tell her how Tom's real estate business hadn't
done anything in months. They live in this big, beautiful home and had been so successful in the
past, there was really no one to ask for help, and besides what could they do?
Valerie told her to meet her here at 8:30 a.m., Tuesday. That next Tuesday, Valerie's
driveway was full of cars, as usual, like a full parking lot. Women were gathered on the upper
patio, with their jeans, hats and sharp knives, and each one had their own five gallon handled
bucket. Here came Maggie. Everyone welcomed her.
When they got to Lompoc, Jay had instructed them to pick from three different fields.
They had three vehicles. Two pickups and her old green truck; that day they filled them with
green beans, broccoli, and spinach. Oh, and flowers. Jay let them pick flowers from a field of
full blooming stocks. The sight of ten acres of blooming flowers was breathtaking. Lompoc is
called the flower growing capital. When they got back to Valerie's house, those she had already
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taught how to blanch the broccoli, and freeze the spinach, and can the green beans, took what
they wanted of their bounty to process at their homes. The others came back the next day for
classes. There were also two refrigerators in the garage full of dairy products from the outdated
dairy products she picked up nearly every evening, and bags and bags of bakery goods.
Valerie's mom was back in the hospital again, dying; she had let the demons back in......
Valerie flew to Des Moines right away. She rented a car and drove straight to the hospital. She
couldn't believe her eyes when she saw her Mother. This frail, thin haired, old woman lay there
curled up in the fetal position; once a radiantly beautiful woman that was the fantasy dream of
every man that saw her. Valerie pulled a chair up to her bed. The room was dimly lit and the air
smelled of old urine. Valerie felt so sorry for her lying there so helpless. She just sat and looked
at her for a long time, and remembered some of her years as a little girl with Mom. She had
loved her Mom so much back then. Now look at her. She looked a hundred years old lying
there. Her once beautiful blue eyes sunk into their skeletal frame. Her once soft velvet skin now
clung, tightly and thinly to her bones.
"Mom," Valerie whispered, "It's me, Valerie." She slowly opened her eyes. They had
her so drugged, she hardly knew her. "Valerie, oh my, how did you get here?" she asked,
obviously delirious, she was in terrible pain. "I came to see you, Mom," Valerie told her.
"That's because I'm dying, I know I'm dying. I'm so afraid, Valerie," she whimpered. "I haven't
been a very good mother to you," her frail voice whispered softly. "S-h-h-h, it's not important
now, Mom. With all the odds you had against you all your life Mom, I think you did all you
knew to do. I'm glad you were my mother, are you glad I was your daughter?" Valerie asked, as
tears dripped from her eyes onto their grasping hands. "Oh my yes," she said softly; "My little
Valerie Jo."................ She was real little, about five years old. She used to hold her hand. The
men used to whistle at her - her high heels went: “click”, “click”, “click” to a rhythm Valerie Jo
could have danced to. Her perfume was so lovely and the breeze blew ever so softly at night. It
blew the smell of her mom right into my face as she proudly walked beside her.
One month after Valerie's mom surrendered her life to God, Valerie’s dad had phoned
her. Valerie was able to lead him to Jesus as well. It was Jimmy Swaggard’s ministry she sent
him to, and they prayed with him. Her mother and dad, though they had not been together since
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she was three years old, were now ready for heaven. God had answered her prayers once again.
One year later and one month after Valerie's mom died, her dad was found dead in his apartment.
It seemed that she had just gotten unpacked from saying good-bye to Mom, when she was
packing to go to her dad's funeral. Dad's funeral was to be in Vernon, Texas, where he lived and
died. Valerie flew to Lubbock where her grandmother Mae lived. Mae was taking it all pretty
hard. Dad had lived an awful life. His drinking had put Mae through Hell. He'd been married
eleven times, stolen, conned, lied, cheated, and probably even murdered someone along the line
somewhere. Bill Skiles cared for no one but himself. Mae and Pa had sacrificed everything for
Bill. As far as anyone knew Valerie was the only child her Dad had fathered, the only one he and
her Mother had together. At the grave site, Valerie gave the eulogy. There were a lot of people
there. Except for family, the others were obviously his drinkin' buddies, and some real loose
looking women. Valerie told them all about “Foot-prints in the sand”........... And they were the
only ones who understood the story. They were the only ones who cried, and most will be seen
walking around in Heaven one day.
It was nearly Thanksgiving again. Gwen and Valerie had been putting up apples like it
was going out of style. Santa Ynez grew the best apples you've ever eaten. There were apple
orchards all over the place, and one of the owners, a lady named, Pam Labera, let them come on
her property and get the apples that had dropped off onto the ground from the hundreds of trees
she owned. Gwen and Valerie canned a hundred or more jars of apple sauce that first year.
Someone let them pick walnuts up off the ground at their walnut orchard, and the same with
pumpkins. They canned pumpkin for pies, until it seemed everything looked orange. "Have you
got everything for Thanksgiving, Gwen, for your dinner? It's next week," Valerie said. They'd
ground wheat for her homemade bread that Valerie had taught her to make. "Everything except
a turkey," she said, "but I'm not complaining. There's enough food to feed an army at my
house," she said. "Gwen, be here at the house, Saturday at 8:00 a.m. and bring rubber gloves if
you have them."
8:00 a.m. sharp, here she was rubber gloves in hand. Valerie had the fifty gallon drum
filled with nearly boiling water, the stump, sawhorse, and plywood table all set up with hatchet,
knives and a gut bucket nearby. "What are we going to do?" Gwen asked. "Come with me," and
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she led her to the aviary, where ten turkeys strutted around the yard, oblivious to their impending
doom. "Pick one. You can have a great big tom or a hen. Pick anyone you want," Valerie told
her. "Oh my, this is wonderful," she said. "Are we going to butcher it together, you and me?"
she asked, batting her eyes like a calf at a new gate. "You bet ya, you and me. Can you handle
it?" Valerie asked. She took a big gulp, "sure, let's go." Gwen was cute. She was 101% lady.
She looked like a doctor's or lawyer's wife. Very refined and reserved. She like the nice, finer
things of life and knew all the expensive high dollar brand names of clothes and furniture. She
had the elegance of the first lady.
"Pick out a big one, Gwen," Valerie yelled, as they walked through the flock of gobbling
giblets. She did: the biggest one in the flock. "Hold on to his feet while I keep his wings from
flapping. I have to keep them down with my arms, so they don't get bruised." Valerie held the
big fifty pound tom as tight as she could. She just wasn't as agile as she was when she was thin,
and fifty pounds of fight was quite a work out. With a lot of struggle, they got him through the
chicken house and out to where the good old stump was. Valerie tied a rope around his neck and
tied his feet together while Gwen sat on him, her knees holding down his wings on both sides.
Boy, he put up a fight. Then, Valerie straddled him with her knees holding his wings down, and
gave the end of the rope that was around his neck to Gwen. Gwen stretched his neck across the
stump. "Pull tight, Gwen. I'm going to give it one big whack, pull!" Valerie yelled. "I'm afraid
I'll hurt him," she hollered. "Whack!" The rope slipped off just as Valerie came down with the
ax, and Gwen fell backwards on to the ground. What was worse, the turkey's head was half on.
"Are you okay?" Valerie shouted, trying to hold down the poor thing. To her amazement, Gwen
leaped to her feet, grabbed the half decapitated turkey by the head, and yelled as she pulled, "one
more time!" This time it was all over for sure. Wow, what a brawl. He didn't die without a
fight. But Gwen's Thanksgiving dinner menu was now complete. They were exhausted!
Roy had taken on a partner in his satellite dish business. Someone he met in Las Vegas
at one of the satellite dish conventions that he went to during the summer. She was beautiful.
The two of them were going to work the fair together this year. Valerie wasn't invited. Roy took
the camper, as usual. He said she was going to sleep in her truck.
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Every night Valerie sat in the big over stuffed rocking chair by the fireplace and cried.
Her mind had gone wild with the thoughts of what they were doing together. Valerie fell asleep
crying in the chair. One night at nearly 1:00 a.m., she heard a knock on the sliding glass door. It
was the woman, his partner. She needed to pick up some things for the business on her way back
to Santa Barbara. "You look like you've been crying," she said. "To be perfectly honest with
you, I'm having a real problem with this partnership of yours and Roys. It doesn't seem right. If
you were me, would you want your husband that you love, to be in partnership with a woman
like you?" she said catching the tears as they flowed.
Roy came home the next night acting very strange and somewhat distant. "My partner
got another business going in Santa Barbara with another satellite dish company, with a better
offer."
One evening, Valerie and Rebecca got into Roy's Ranchero, and took off for McDonalds
to spend the evening together. As Valerie turned off Rufugio on to Highway 246, and picked up
speed to about 40 miles per hour, a car that had been waiting for traffic to pass at the entrance to
the high school there, pulled directly out in front of them and stopped... dead ahead. Valerie
tried to serve around the back of his car, but the streets were wet and slick and the left driver's
side of the Ranchero crashed into the left driver's side of the car. The driver's side was crushed
in and smoke was bellowing out from the engine area. It all happened so fast, Valerie couldn't
think. Her first concern was the car was going to catch fire.
Rebecca had her hands over her mouth and blood was trickling through her fingers and
down her arms. "My God, Rebecca, what's wrong, honey, you're hurt!" Valerie screamed. It
was too dark to see. It was raining hard; they went back to the car. The other driver cried, "Are
you okay? Oh, please, I'm sorry, please forgive me." Rebecca looked up; her hands full of
blood, and blood trickling through her fingers, and said to him, "yes, I forgive you." Then there
was the young man sitting behind the wheel of the Ranchero that patted Valerie on the back as
she was leaning over Rebecca crying that said to her, “Don’t worry, everything is going to be
alright.”.........
Valerie didn't have an ambulance called. She was torn between getting her daughter to
the hospital, and not making Roy mad at her for spending money on an ambulance. When they
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x-rayed Rebecca's face, they found her top jaw had been broken and her front teeth were pushed
back at least an inch from her mouth, hitting that dash at impact. The doctor reached into her
mouth with his fingers and physically pulled her six front top teeth an inch forward, and then
wired them together. She didn't even whimper.
The next day, Valerie couldn't even move her head, her neck and knees hurt so badly.
She had broken the impact for herself by
sliding down, pressing her knees against the bottom of the dash. Dr. Krause showed Valerie her
x-rays. "You've had a severe trauma to your neck, when you were much younger," he said, as he
pointed to the curve in her spine. "See this curve? It's curving the opposite way. The accident
has re-injured this area. You've had a serious blow to the back of the neck in the past; in fact,
three vertebras were nearly crushed from the impact. Can you tell me what happened back
then?" he asked. Valerie remembered very well what had happened. "I was eighteen years old.
It was when I was married to my second husband, Owen. He had beaten me real bad the night
before. I was lying on my stomach in bed the next morning asleep, when he came into the room
and with his fist, came down on the back of my neck. I heard a loud crack and my ears started
ringing real loud. For months afterward, I could hardly turn my head either direction. My head
felt so heavy, I could hardly carry it on my shoulders." As she told her story, he was writing it
all down in her chart. They didn't have insurance. As bizarre as it sounds, the week before the
accident, Roy's insurance agent, that he'd had for ten years, had changed Roy's policy around for
all his work trucks, and had forgotten to include collision insurance.
The man that had pulled out in front of Valerie and his insurance company got their high
dollar, big time lawyers involved, and they subpoenaed her records from Dr. Krauses' office.
They claimed that Valerie had a pre-existing condition and would not pay for medical expenses
for her. The pain was nearly unbearable at times, but she couldn't afford to continue her
treatments at the doctor's office.
The news of Valerie helping to feed struggling families had spread like wildfire
throughout the community. Valerie received so many calls from people trying to get involved or
give her money to help out. She finally started the “Adopt a Family” program. She contacted all
those wanting to get involved and told them how they could adopt one of the families for
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Christmas. The names of the families and donors were kept confidential. Each family had a
number, each donor had a number, and on Christmas Eve, the donors brought all their bundles of
love to Valerie's house so it all could be delivered. Valerie could hardly believe her eyes. She'd
instructed the donors to put their family’s number on each box or bag of gifts, so they could stay
organized. The driveway was nearly full by the end of the day. Weepy eyes were a norm to see.
Stories of how their entire family got involved in the shopping, and it was the best Christmas
they'd ever had as a family just having an opportunity to give and get involved in someone else’s
life was overwhelming for some of them.
There was no junk that Christmas.
The
recipient families could hardly believe what was in
the beautifully wrapped packages, and too many of
them, it was the nicest gifts they'd ever received.
Three groups of people who adopted Rosie's family
with her nine kids completely outfitted each one, plus
bought toys, food and some real special things for
Rosie for being such a great mom.
Joel, the man that taught Valerie all she knew
about keeping bees, had sold all his hives and moved
away to another state. The last time she had seen
him, he'd helped her destroy some of her hives that
were diseased with Fowl Brood. The boxes full of
honey were heavy, at least forty or fifty pounds, and
something had to be done, and soon. Valerie was
already two months behind harvesting time. She suited up in her white full bee-suit, rubber
muckies, bee-keeper's gloves to the elbow, and netted bee-bonnet. Her bee-suit just didn't fit like
it used to when she was eighty pounds thinner. The fat around her waist, over flowed over her
Levis at the waist, and was like an old tire inner tube pressing tight against her bee-suit. In fact,
she looked like she had an inflated space suit on. It was so tight; she could hardly bend over for
fear of ripping out at the seams.
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She drug her big garden cart that held 400 pounds through the pasture, down the hill,
through the back fence gate and down another hill to the bee hives. She set a piece of cotton on
fire and stuffed it into her old antique smoker, and billowed it several times until she got a good
puff of smoke coming out the smoker hole. She was set to go.
She no sooner opened the lid on one hive when the bees began to swarm all over her.
The first sting was at her waist. There was zero space between her fat and the thin material of
the suit. Then came the second sting, and the fifth, tenth, and soon she was being stung more
than not. She threw the top boxes in the cart and headed for the house. Her heart was pounding
hard and irregular. She felt like she was going to pass out. A place in her throat started
throbbing and she felt her throat swelling on the inside. She continued dragging the cart up the
two hills, falling to her knees a few times. When she got to the house, she left the car outside the
canning room door. She wasn't feeling too good. She thought she'd wait till dark after all the
bees had gone back into their hive. Then she'd take the boxes full of racks of honey to the
laundry room, and harvest them the next day, when she felt better. She went in the house and lay
down.
By the next morning, she felt better, a little whelpy and itchy around the waist. It was a
real warm sunny morning for December, so she just had on a short sleeved shirt and her jeans.
She'd noticed the far right corner of the pasture looked dry, so she drug a hose to the spot and
connected a rain-bird water sprinkler and turned it on full blast. She happened to look up into
the blue sky. At first, she thought it was a funny looking big puff of smoke. It was moving
closer and changing shape. Then suddenly, she was horror stricken. It was headed towards her.
It was a swarm of bees. She ran as fast as she could go towards the water sprinkler. She got to
the water just as the bees began to attack her. They stung her all over. Her heart began to pound
harder and harder and that spot in her neck palpitated wildly.
Later that afternoon, Valerie was alone in the house when she pried off the lid on the
closest box and out flew one lonely bee, directly at her face. It stung her just below her left eye.
Immediately her heart started acting up, her throat spasmed and she could feel her head
beginning to swell. Within twenty minutes, she looked like the man in the movie, "The Elephant
Man." Both eyes were swollen shut; her cheeks were even with her nose. She had to pry her top
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and bottom eyelids open with her fingers to see out. Later that night, the back of her eyes began
to hurt real badly, a lot of pressure. Roy didn't offer to take her to the hospital. An RN wanted
them to come to her house to get some Benedryl she had.
A doctor friend got Valerie a bee sting kit and said, "Read the instructions carefully to
your entire family so they'll know exactly how to administer it to you should you get stung again.
It's between life and death for you, Valerie. If you get stung just one more time, you have about
thirty seconds to one minute and you're dead if you don't go into a cardiac arrest first."
Roy smiled, thanked the doctor, and put the box in his pocket. When they got home, he
laid the box on the buffet. Valerie waited a while to build up enough courage to ask him finally,
"Roy, are you going to read those instructions now?" she said. He was watching TV and didn't
hear Valerie. "Roy, did you hear me?" she said. "What do you want, Valerie?" he snapped. He
never opened the box. Not even the kids touched it out of curiosity.
A UPS man had just delivered two large boxes from Des Moines, from Valerie's halfsister, Debbie. She had mailed Valerie the things of Mom's that she had picked out just before
her mother died. Debbie was real mad at Valerie because she didn't come back to Des Moines
after Mom had died to help her get rid of all Moms’ stuff. She was livid, but there were a zillion
reasons why Valerie couldn't go, and didn't want to go, and that's just the way it had to be.
When Valerie opened the box, she nearly threw up.
Debbie (raised in the same
dysfunctional home, under the same demonic atmosphere), had packed the stereo and movie
projector in the soiled bed pads that had been on Mom's hospital bed in the apartment. Valerie
couldn't believe it. Debbie had sent everything Valerie asked for, but Valerie was shocked at
what she'd done; that's not the worst of it. At the bottom of the box was a picture album of Mom
about sixty years old or so, posing for nude pornographic pictures? There was a lock of her
blond hair in the album, and on the very last picture on the last page, was a picture of Mom with
her thumbs in her ears and her four fingers pointing up, and her tongue sticking straight out.
Debbie must have found the album hidden in Mom's things, from back when she'd been belly
dancing and all. Valerie was feeling really down. She couldn't seem to find human comfort,
especially at times like this.
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Valerie was now feeding nearly fifty families. The phones were ringing constantly. It
was like a business that she was running, except everything was free. All day, every day, cars
were up and down their driveway, unannounced most of the time, while people went into their
garage and got out-dated dairy products from the two refrigerators. Sometimes, late at night,
they could hear the refrigerator doors open and close. Their family had little to no privacy.
Mildred suggested putting an ad in the paper. "What should we say, Mildred? "Well,
think about it and you tell me, Valerie. What would you say?" Mildred answered, as she took a
tablet of paper and a pen out of her purse to write. "Well, I guess, I'd ask if there's anyone
interested in people that are in need within our community, through providing ways for them to
feed themselves, help them find jobs, good clothing, whatever is needed. There are so many
needs, and I’m helping many of those people all by myself. I think the responsibility to take care
of the people in need in a community belongs to that community, don’t you Mildred?" They
tentatively set a meeting date, and agreed for the two of them to meet again in a few days.
The next day Valerie received a phone call from a local reporter at the newspaper.
Mildred had called them. This reporter wanted to do an interview for a two page article on the
front page of the paper. Wow, the ball was rolling. Mildred was a dynamo for such a frail little
lady. She knew everyone in town. Mildred also wanted to help with some formal invitations to
those that Valerie had on a list, and those in the community that she personally wanted to invite.
Valerie got with the ladies to get pictures taken for the newspaper.
Greg, Valerie's church pastor, suggested they form a steering committee. "What in the
heck is that?" Valerie asked.
"Well, it's an organized group of people that oversee and
administrate over a beginning project or organization, to make sure there's a proper structure
developed and an accountability to a governing group of people in charge," he said. It all
sounded silly to Valerie. Why couldn't they just continue doing what she'd been doing?
Finally, the day of the meeting rolled around. To their delight, the place was nearly
packed. They had to haul out more chairs. 150 people were there that night. Valerie told them
how she'd learned about gardening, raising animals, processing, and bartering. Fifty families
were being helped, and many of them actually no longer needed help, but they stayed on to help
and train others. Sharing the food they gleaned motivated them to stay involved. No one was a
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beggar or came for a handout. With everyone working so close together and sharing equally like
they did, there was no interest in who was who, and why they were there. There was more than
enough to go around. In fact, they needed more people to share with so nothing would go to
waste.
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At the end of all the talking, there was hardly a face without a smile or dry eye in the
place. "Opportunity for Sharing
Sheets," were handed out to
everyone that wanted one, and
everyone wanted one. One lady
stood
up
and
said,
"I'm
experienced at putting nonprofit
organization
papers
together, and writing by-laws."
Whatever that was. An older,
very distinguished looking man
stood up with his wife, and said,
"My
name
is
Dr.
Arthur
Kaslow. My wife and I own the
property just below our practice
on Alamo Pintado Road. There
are two acres of organic land.
There's
never
commercial
been
insecticide
any
or
commercial fertilizers on that
land since we've owned it for
the past twenty-five years.
I
have a practice that treats illnesses by means of nutrition and healthy living. People come to me
from all over the world for treatment of their diseases, and all that to say this. My wife and I
would like to donate the two acres of land for use by this organization." Dr. Arthur Kaslow was
a Jew, and had been praying for years that God would use those two acres.
Veterinarians said they wanted to make themselves available, free of charge, for whatever
needs there might be for any animals that were being raised for food for the ministry. A doctor,
a lawyer, painters, plumbers, cake decorators, they all wanted to help. Jim Chandler was there,
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and he offered dry walling. A lady named Sherry Malin offered to do bookkeeping. Susan Tate
said she'd do all the typing. One after the other, people raised their hands to offer their gifts and
talents. "Everyone, please, fill out your Opportunity for Sharing Sheet, that way we can structure
this whole thing by what you're all willing to do," Valerie said.
The women that Valerie worked with had baked bran muffins out of fresh ground wheat
flour, and had muffins and coffee prepared for everyone after the meeting. The newspaper
people from Santa Ynez and Santa Barbara were there. They had a lot of questions. The room
was alive with enthusiasm. Valerie was stunned to say the least, and "Operation Outreach" was
officially born.
This ripple effect of people caring about the conditions of other lives, and wanting to be a
part of solving their problems, was remarkable. Like a huge family rising up out of everywhere,
the community took a hold of this baby organization and nurtured it lovingly.
Weekly
newspaper articles were published. Valerie was consistently brain storming different ways of
organizing all these volunteers.
She set up an office at her desk at home and ran it all from there. It didn't move out of
the house… it just exploded into a giant right in her backyard. She did get a P.O. Box in town to
separate Operation Outreach's mail from their family mail. The combined mail was a mess for
awhile. Many times her family and Valerie would come home, and bags and bags of clothing
and used furniture, and well, name it, would be in their driveway. They'd have to pull over to let
cars out before they could get down their drive to their house.
This would go on all week long. Then the gleaning crews would come on Tuesdays;
processing on Wednesdays and Thursdays. When there would be a board meeting every week,
everyone would talk this strange "mumbo-jumbo" about by-laws, and reading the minutes of the
last meeting, and all this junk that just wasted Valerie's precious time. It didn't have a thing to do
with feeding people as far as she was concerned. She couldn't read those silly minutes passed
out each week anyway.
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There were things that God had specifically
instructed her in that didn't fit at all into the way some
people were thinking. He wasn't building another Salvation
Army here. For one thing, they weren't to solicit for freebies
or have their own fund raisers. God said He would supply
their needs without begging for money like many ministries
and organizations did. He told Valerie that they were to
never beg for anything. He said they were to tithe 10% of
all undesignated money that came into the ministry; one
third was to go for like organizations locally; one-third to
like organizations nationally; and one-third to world
missions. Everyone was to be considered equal and were to
be looked at with their hearts, not their heads.
They were not to preach at anyone or attempt to cram Jesus known any ones throat.
There was only one way people could truly receive, through love by building relationships, one
on one. No one was to be turned away for any reason. A man in town drew a logo for Valerie of
two hands touching inside a big red heart.
While reaching out in the community, Valerie felt in her own family that they were all
like little puppies; waiting for Roy to notice anything valuable about them, so he would pat them
on their head and say, "good boy, girl, wife, dog." There was always this question in their
minds, "did I do good, yet?" Valerie could remember Michelle always reaching out to Roy for
approval, but never getting it. She'd been working all summer as a receptionist for a Dr. Krause,
when she met twenty six year old Rick. They snuck around to be together and within a month
Michelle was gone. Roy told her if she was going to insist on seeing Rick, she could get out.
Michelle left home at sixteen years old. Valerie wandered around the house in a daze for days.
Her Michelle was gone, and she didn’t get to finish raising her. What about all of the plans she
had for her?
Roy had his work; Valerie had the kids, the house, the yard, the animals, the Outreach.
Michael had his many friends and football. Rebecca was like this lost little lamb. Now, just like
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Michelle had expressed, it was happening to Rebecca. The teachers at her school said she didn't
apply herself. She had the capability of being an 'A' student with no sweat, but all she did is
stare out the window at school all day. She had once been the happiest child that Valerie had
ever seen.
Strange things were happening. She insisted on a lock being put on her room door. She'd
moved into Michelle's old room shortly after Michelle showed no signs of coming back home.
Roy wouldn't let her put a lock on her door. She cried and acted real strange about not being
able to have one. Soon after that, she began to act even more strange. She started wearing
sweats to bed. The problem Valerie had with Rebecca wearing these sweats to bed at night, was
early in the morning she'd come running into wherever Valerie was, wiggling and squirming
because she couldn't get the string around the waist of the sweats undone. It was tied in about
ten knots. Valerie would work at untying all of them before she wet her britches. Sometimes,
she'd just have to cut the string. She had ruined several pairs of sweats, because Valerie had to
cut the string. "What's the matter with you, Rebecca?" Valerie yelled at her. "I fixed up
Michelle's room for you like you wanted, and it looks like a pig lives in there. You want locks
on the door, knots in your sweats, you won't comb your hair, brush your teeth, and your school
grades are dropping. Honey, what's wrong? You don't even go see your friends, anymore. All
you do is either stay in your room all the time, or mope around outside by yourself. I want to
help you, but you've gotta help me, help you." All she'd do is shrug her shoulders. She'd never
comment or express any emotion, but her unexplained
behavior continued. Science project time at the school was a
special event for Rebecca and Valerie. This perked her up a
bit. This year, they were going to involve their parrot, Sasha,
because she was so unique.
Rebecca loved all of the
animals, and especially Sasha. She'd learned a volume of
words in the past year, and she now had all her feathers, too.
You could turn her upside down, stroke her shiny green feathers with your hand, and she'd even
kiss you with her beak, while making the sound of lips smacking. Then she'd say, "I love you,
you're special, kiss, kiss, kiss." She'd drop her apple on the floor on purpose, and say, "Oh, I'm
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sorry." She'd see an apple, not an orange, banana or anything else and say, "apple, please,
apple."
They wrote down once, just how many words she could say, and counted at least sixty.
"Valerie," Recka," "Ichole," (for Michael), "Roy," "Baby," "come-in," (which caused a lot of
trouble for Valerie when people came to her door knocking, if you can imagine people
wandering around inside her house when she got out of the shower). There were a lot of full
sentences she knew, so Rebecca and Valerie decided to experiment this way; everyday before
school Rebecca would put the portable tape recorder next to Sasha's perch. She had taped on a
sixty minute tape the words, "that's remarkable." Then she'd turn it on and walk away. For sixty
minutes, the words, "that's remarkable" would play, over and over, again.
Then, after school, when Rebecca got home, she would pick Sasha up in her hands, and
for only five minutes or less, pet and stroke Sasha's feathers gently and sing a chorus to her.
Within two months, Sasha was singing the chorus in perfect pitch. So, what was the experiment?
To break it down, there were sixty minutes with no human interaction versus five minutes
affection, communication, one on one relationship, and the bird did all Rebecca wanted of her,
plus more. All she really wanted to do was to please Rebecca. Sasha and Rebecca really bonded
during that experiment.
One afternoon at a meeting with Mr. King Merrill, the editor of the local newspaper,
Valerie noticed several small stained glass figures stuck with suction cups to his large office
window. He had a small collection of them. Valerie commented on them and he said, "My wife
gave them to me," as he shuffled papers around on his desk, obviously trying to hide some deep
emotion and tears. It seemed strange seeing such a delicate collection in the territory of this
man, who had the reputation of being so hard and hateful.
As Valerie was driving home, she remembered that on the very bottom of the box of
Mom's stuff Debbie had sent to her, lying under that hideous photo album, there was a small red
stained glass ornament shaped like an apple. It had some writing engraved in the center of it that
Valerie had never tried to read. She couldn't wait to get home to find out what it said on the little
apple. She took it out of the drawer, sat down at the dining room table, pointed to the first word,
and sounded each word out. "Only God knows how many apples are in one seed," it read. This
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was Mr. Merrill's answer for his very ill wife, a prayer of faith to a God he couldn't see. The
next day, Valerie snuck into Mr. Merrill's office and placed it on his desk. One day when she
was driving by the newspaper building, she happened to glance in his window and saw the
stained glass apple there on display for everyone to read.
Valerie couldn't count how many newspaper articles were done on behalf of Operation
Outreach. Young and old alike; rich and poor; all businesses; the radio station; the entire
community rallied around the Outreach, embracing it as their own, with such pride. Mr. King
Merrill publicized all their events in the paper, with great fanfare, and the participation from the
community was something else. They didn't have to solicit for money or handouts or beg for
freebies. People just gave out of a giving heart, because they wanted to, not because they had to.
A clothing ministry was being formed by Barbara Phillips, who owned a used clothing store in
town. She'd donate all the unsold clothing to the Outreach. This ministry was really taking
shape.
Valerie had a fun surprise party planned for Roy at the house, for his "over the hill"
birthday. She invited everyone that they knew together, and told them all to park way up the
street. Up Highland Road, (the street they lived on), and then walk to their house since Roy
always came home by driving down Fairlea. He never came home the other direction... except
that day, and saw all the cars parked on both sides of the street, all the way up the block.
Everyone was waiting down in the family room to surprise Roy. Roy came strolling in the back
door and surprised them. This birthday party seemed to have a real impact on him. Roy saved
everything, cards and all. He had a special place for all he'd received that day, tucked safely
away inside his heart.
Bob Nuestadt met Valerie one warm sunny afternoon at the two acres of land Dr. Kaslow
had donated for the Outreach use. Bob had a background of farming, so he was immediately
drawn to the donated land project with various ideas on what could be done with it. "I have an
idea," Bob said, after a few moments of silence, as they stared at the weed infested plot of flat
land. "Why don't we divide it up in even smaller sections?" "What do you mean?" Valerie
asked, "what would be the point in that? We already have anything we could grow in smaller
sections nearly year around from Jay Fisher's fields and all the other farmers around that just let
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us take what we want from their fields." "No, I see something else real different here," Bob said,
walking out towards the field. He squatted down and picked up a handful of dry dirt. "Well, for
one thing, this land needs to be turned real bad, and the ground broken up. It's hard as a rock. It
must have been a hundred years since anything was planted out here. I'll bet this soil is great for
just about anything." He stood up, deep in thought. "I know, listen to this," he said, "Why not
divide it up into parcels; say the full width of these two acres. Then have each one about twenty
feet wide with a path in between each one." "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Bob?" Valerie
said, grabbing his arm with excitement. "We could run pipe for water across the front of each
parcel and connect a faucet in front of each one for separate hose connections. We could have a
separate piece of land for each person or group of people to garden." "Yes," Bob interrupted,
"and they could grow whatever they wanted. Like those victory gardens back in the depression."
The more they talked, the more it all came together.
Jim Hobson, Sr., (Valerie's old cow Babe's master), volunteered the use of his Cat tractor
and labor to rip the ground preparing it for disking. Jay Fisher donated fertilizer. Since Bob had
his own tractor, he used it and his equipment to spread the fertilizer, then fine disc the soil to a
near powder. Bob then divided it into 20' x 100' plots for gardening. He, Roy, and a young high
school boy named Johnny, ran irrigation pipe with individual faucets for each parcel.
Jim Christensen, the man who owned the mountain of sand and shale, came one
afternoon to the garden project with his ten-wheeler dump truck, loaded down with organic
fertilizer. Load after load he dumped behind each parcel, as only Jim could do. One load of
fertilizer and then a load of sand, until there was plenty for each parcel owner to use to work into
their own parcel. Another farmer, Jake Willemsen, brought several truck loads of organic
manure, and piled it high at the very end of the property. A pipe company donated all the pipe,
the hardware store donated the faucets and 100' hoses and white chain to put in front of each plot
so it would attractively show the separate gardening plots. John Rodwell said he'd donate all the
mushroom compost they wanted.
John Rodwell headed up a community meeting to organize various people to teach
gardening techniques. Dr. Kaslow had hauled in sand along the sloping banks below his office,
so his patients could exercise by walking back and forth along the paths. This was a perfect spot
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for fruit trees, grapevines and different kinds of berries. One local man had donated fifty dollars,
and La Sumeda Nursery donated five hundred dollars worth of plants, shrubs, berry bushes,
grapevines, anything they wanted. $2,340 was donated by a self-development committee of the
Santa Barbara Presbytery, earmarked for equipment for the gardens, or food processing.
A professional photographer taking graduate studies at the famous "Brooks Institute" in
Santa Barbara, asked if he could photograph each phase of the garden project, so they would
have attractive and professional documentation for future needs, should this project become what
so many were talking about: a pilot program for other communities to copy. "Who knows?" he
said.
"Maybe you'll go nationwide, maybe even worldwide."
Lee Romney filled out an
"Opportunity for Sharing Sheet" (the lady that wanted to give Valerie $40,000 a year earlier, but
Valerie had turned it down) and made her own check box on the sheet, put a check mark in it and
wrote "money."
She wrote a
note at the bottom of the sheet
that said she wanted to be treated
like any other donor that made
themselves available at anytime,
except she had money to offer
whenever Valerie wanted it.
Jim Christensen donated a big
shed that he'd built.
It was
perfect for a vegetable stand. A
volunteer modified it so it had
two large closeable windows,
and slopped counter space to
display their veggies.
Another
man painted it barn red, Valerie's
favorite
color.
Mackentosh,
who
Steve
was
an
incredible artist, made a sign for
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the garden project, the most beautiful horn-a-plenty Valerie had ever seen. It was 13 feet high
and 16 feet wide with fruits and vegetables pouring out the opening of this gigantic horn shaped
basket.
Pumpkins, corn, potatoes, celery, cauliflower, broccoli, watermelon, carrots, beets,
cabbage, and... the sky. The sky was beautiful. Dr. Kaslow was in Europe with his wife while
all this was happening.
The very first gardener to take a plot was Jon King. He was a really lonely boy that had
been raised by his single mom, and enjoyed cooking and gardening. The next plot owner was,
none else, but Roslie and her nine kids. It was a blessing for everyone, just watching them out
there daily as you drove by the garden project. A wealthy atheist couple took a plot. They just
liked the humanitarian aspects of it all.
Some of the $2,340 that had been donated was spent on a brand new Troy-Bilt rototiller
(the best!) Now, they were praying for a small diesel tractor. The Operation Outreach had
outgrown Valerie's house, and she kept hinting that something had to happen soon about it
getting out of her house, but it didn't seem to be a priority to anyone. Valerie could only spread
herself so thin, and seemed to be at the garden project most of the time while it was getting
started. Her family seemed to "enjoy" hamburgers nearly every night that month.
Valerie set up policies as to how the garden project should be run to benefit everyone
involved. If the plot owner was unable to afford buying the necessary seed and seedlings, and
provide a 100' hose, and pay a portion of the water bill each month, all would be provided for
them, even tools. If the plot owner could afford it, the opposite applied.
Everyone working a parcel could grow whatever they wished, however they wished.
Monthly gardening classes and meetings were mandatory, because not only gardening techniques
were shared and taught, but the fellowship and united effort was most important. The gardener
of the month would be announced at that time by John Rodwell, and a special award presented to
that person or group.
100% organic gardening techniques must be followed. No commercial insecticides or
fertilizers were allowed. 50% of all produce grown was to be donated back to Operation
Outreach to be sold at the vegetable stand to the public (at regular store prices). The money
would then be used to by seeds, seedlings, tools, and to pay water bills for those unable to afford
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it. The unsold produce would be distributed to those in the community needing food. Canning,
freezing, dehydrating, all food processing classes were available to teach them how to preserve
their 50%.
Valerie liked speaking at the secular places better than Christian; the Lion's Club,
different women's organizations. One of her favorite speaking engagements was at the "Rotary
Club." "I really don't know what the work 'Rotary' means or stands for," Valerie said. "I guess
the first thing that comes to my mind is, big wheels." Suddenly, they all started roaring with
laughter. Each man that spoke to Valerie afterward, owned some type of local business, and
wanted to be available to provide whatever she needed.
The veggie stand was to open to the public for the very first time. King Merrill featured
an article in the paper. The gardeners had picked some of their bounty early that morning, and
volunteers had signed up to work the stand and organize the luscious, fresh organic product on
the slanted shelf that was the width of the building. Steve Mackentosh, (the man that painted the
garden project sign), and his wife made the most beautiful signs to hang everywhere.
By 10:00, when the stand opened, a couple of little old ladies were seen making their way
down the street towards the gardens, wicker baskets hanging on their arms. Cars began to pull
off to the side of the road in front, and soon the entire 30' space between the fence and the road,
from end to end of the two acre length of the garden was filled with cars. The Outreach itself
had two garden parcels going. If someone wanted five pounds of carrots, Valerie went directly
to the parcels and pulled out seven pounds, washed, weighed and bagged them up at a five pound
cost. The watermelons went first; they were like nothing you'd ever eaten before; the cantaloupe
too. They picked the corn as they ordered it. Word spread like wildfire, and soon they were
running out of available produce by 2:00 in the afternoon. They decided to have the stand open
on Thursdays, after awhile, because everything went so fast. They were making about $100.00,
sometimes $200.00 or more some days. The money would be going into buying a metal storage
shed to put tools, hoses and supplies in.
An organization called, "American the Beautiful," contacted Valerie through the 700
Club to donate 2000 pounds of brown rice. The Christian Broadcasting Network was there
filming the give away of nearly 75,000 pounds of rice to selected organizations and food banks.
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Roy and Valerie had gone to Los Angeles after the rice. They had a special time together. Roy
found out the rice was headed for their garage. "I can't even get to my workbench now!"
he snapped. Valerie had a category in her rolodex where three different people had offered to
store things for them.
Mr. Sellers was talking to Mildred and Valerie about all his houses, and lands, and
successes. Suddenly, he stopped his small tractor (pulling Mildred and Valerie in a wagon).
"Say, you don't know anyone that wants a horse, do you?" She was about to answer him, her
face beaming, because she knew someone! He was laughing as he turned back around, "that was
a stupid question. How many poor people need a horse? This horse was the best pacer his friend
had ever had," he continued. "She had the potential of being a champion, until she tripped when
they were loading her in the horse trailer or something, and she broke her leg. She's an
American Standard Breed, only two years old... a beautiful black. She'll never walk good again,
and you can't ride her, but she's got a great personality. You never said, who's interested in a
horse?" he added. "My daughter, Rebecca," Valerie said.
Rebecca was down at the creek with Talley. Valerie told Rebecca to come with her, she
had a surprise for her. They drove
to Dean Sellers house, and then
rode with him to his friends ranch.
It was nestled deep in the country,
back up against the mountains, a
sprawling 150 acre horse ranch.
Dean introduced Valerie to
his friend, the owner of the place,
then they drove to the stables.
There she was looking over the top
of the Dutch door to the small
stable. She'd lived here day and
night for nearly eight months. She was beautiful, her dark chocolate coat nearly black, and it
shined with her youthfulness. Her eyes were bright, and she was so alert, as if she was expecting
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them. Rebecca stroked her head, and then put her face against hers, as if they'd always known
each other.
They delivered "Goddess" to their house and put her in one of their corrals. Valerie could
hardly get Rebecca to come into the house for dinner that night. She brushed Goddess's hair
over and over, braided her mane, anything to be able to keep touching her. She took the
bandages off of her leg. Her hoof was curled back, deformed from lack of use. Of course, she
limped on three legs barely putting pressure on the injury. Roy was a little upset that Valerie
hadn't talked to him about it first. "That's all we needed was a lame horse to feed," he said.
One Saturday afternoon, about a month after they had
gotten Goddess, Valerie was working in her garden at the house.
Roy was washing his truck when suddenly Roy looked up and
saw Goddess chewing on the wire mesh of his satellite dish in
the same corral. "Oh, great," he yelled, storming toward the
pasture gate. "This gimpy horse that's worth zero is chewing on
my $3,000 satellite dish," and with that, he swung the corral
gate open wide. Goddess tore out of the corral gate like she'd
been shot out of a cannon. She bucked and ran and kicked and
pranced around the pasture like a new filly; her head up high,
and her mane flowing straight behind in the wind, her knees up high, and her two front hooves
reaching out for each step. Goddess was healed completely. The next day, Rebecca was on her
bare back… prancing her down busy Rufugio Road. Valerie had forgotten to tell Rebecca that
she'd never been ridden before.
It was a gorgeous day and the gardens were in perfect condition for judging the gardener
of the month award. The winner was announced... it was Roslie and her kids. They were
awarded a gardening book and one of the Outreach's famous homemade scarecrows for their
garden. The guest speaker had never seen an organic garden so productive as these gardens
without any spraying for bugs or gopher trapping. It was like the Garden of Eden.
Valerie was standing in about ten rows of tall corn stalks and sun flowers that stood about
ten feet high or so, with flowers on them at least two feet round, when she was surprised by a
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familiar face.
74
Dr. Kaslow was walking towards her.
He was nearly in tears and totally
speechless at first, when they met there by the corn. He had gone to Europe right after they'd
dedicated the land to God just five months earlier. There was nothing on the virgin land, but dirt
and weeds back then. Now it was a paradise.
He started to speak a few times,
but couldn't seem to without getting
choked up.
He finally gained his
composure, and said, "This was a dream
I had years ago. I saw all of this in my
dream.
I've cared about people and
nutrition for so many years. I've taught
in lectures all over the world that lack of
proper nutrition is primarily responsible
for all the major diseases in the world
today. Good healthy, organic fruits and
vegetables, legumes, brown rice, fish and
chicken, seeds and nuts, I've taught this
for years, and felt so frustrated because
here I taught this, but people couldn't
seem to find it, to purchase it, unless they
grew it themselves. When I started this office is when I had this dream. Today my wife and I
were driving by on our way home from L.A. Airport. I couldn't believe my eyes; I saw all of
this, years ago in my dream." A few tears trickled down his face finally, and then disappeared
into his full white beard. It was a touching moment for both of them.
Valerie was trimming up. Now, forty pounds later, she even had a waist line that she'd
forgotten about. She was very short of her goal at 185 pounds, but none the less proud. Roy
announced, "in two weeks, they'd be leaving for Hawaii, paradise." Two weeks? Valerie had a
trillion things to do before she could even think about getting herself ready for the trip. She had
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to delegate people to take care of all she took care of, for ten days. She just happened to meet
Denise Hotelling, who was very business minded and couldn't wait to learn the business.
Valerie still didn't have someone to pick up the outdated dairy and bread. Valerie freaked
until the end of the day when this sweet old man came to her back door. Sasha yelled, "Come
in," (that parrot was getting too big for her britches.) Valerie came out of the bathroom with this
old man wandering around in her living room, with hat in his hand. "Excuse me," Valerie said,
drying her hands with a towel, "can I help you?" "Oh yes, I heard someone say come in. Maybe
I was hearing things. I hope you don't mind, a...my name is Mac," he said. "I saw the newspaper
about this organization, and I told my wife, Lucille, I needed to get busy doing something. I
don't know what.
I'm nearly eighty years old and life flashed by like a rocket," he said
chuckling. "I feel like I need to get involved doing something with what I've got left. I walk
slow, move slow, I don't hear real good and my teeth aren't what they used to be, but there's one
thing I can do, and do real well...I'm a good driver. I love to drive. My wife's eighty-five and ten
times worse physically than me, but she loves to ride with me. It'd be good to get her out. What
about it...am I hired?" Mac said, his face beaming with enthusiasm. "You're hired," Valerie said
smiling with relief.
Roy and Valerie left for LA the night before their plane was to leave for Hawaii and
rented a motel near the airport. Roy had made arrangements for everything. By mistake, all the
regular seats on the 747 had been taken so they were given 1st class seats, champagne and all.
They were waited on hand and foot.
After being so cold and indifferent to one other for so long, it was as if someone had
flipped the switch to "ON" and suddenly they were laughing and acting like a couple of teenage
lovers. "Oh God!" she cried in her heart, "Why can't it be like this all the time?" She felt so
close to him and so much in love with him as she watched him sleeping in the plane seat next to
her. Who could ever understand this dear man? Who could ever understand this dear woman?
Many, many hours later, and a few transfers to other planes (first class all the way), they
were flying over beautiful Hawaii, in a smaller transport plane. It was breathtaking. The water
beneath them was so clear, colored with blue and turquoise. Palm trees, coconut trees, green,
green rolling hills, Green everywhere in this heavenly paradise. They landed in Hawaii. They
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walked on through the airport, and a young Hawaiian girl came up to them and put a lei around
their necks, just like in the movies.
"Since we've made an error in not reserving the economy car you requested, would you
allow us to offer you a new Mustang convertible for the same price?" the lady at Hertz car rental
booth asked Roy. The drive to the motel was gorgeous. The sky was as blue as the water. The
water was as blue as... their bran-new car! Tropical flowers were growing wild everywhere.
Their motel was right near the ocean, and coconut trees right outside their patio door.
The next morning, they took off to the nearest shopping center. Roy let her buy whatever
she wanted. The rest of that day, they spent driving around the island. It was really primitive.
There were stands set up along the road where native Hawaiians' sold pineapple slices, kiwi and
coconut chunks, papaya, and these strange looking bananas called apple bananas. They were
short, fat and really meaty. Macadamia nuts and Hawaiian potato chips were a biggie with Roy.
The top down on the car and the tropical breeze made them forget about everything except the
moment.
Roy took Valerie to dinner at a romantic restaurant right on the Kawaii beach. There
were no closed in glass or screen windows on these buildings. Everything was open. Valerie
drank her favorite Polynesian drink, and Roy had his usual tequila sunrise.
Dinner was
wonderful. They finished off their evening walking hand in hand, barefoot on the beach, then to
their motel room for the grand finale.
The next two days were more of the same. They'd picnic on a secluded beach and watch
the sun go down. Then they'd get up early in the
morning before the sun came up, and sit on the
beach, and watch an old Hawaiian native and his
wife fishing. It was so peaceful.
One plant and flower plantation was the
most beautiful picturesque scenery that Valerie
had ever seen. Birds were everywhere and grass,
and flowers growing wild.
Roy picked up a
coconut that had fallen and hit it on a rock to try to
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open it. Then out of nowhere it seems, an old Hawaiian man walked up to them and said,
"Follow me." They followed him behind some bamboo hanging, into another open area. There
was a big pile of coconut husks on the ground next to a stump and a funny looking hatchet. He
took the coconut from Roy and told him, "watch me." In just a few moments he had that coconut
shucked and split just enough to give them a head start when they wanted to get at the meat. He
stuck a reed for a straw through the hole on the top of the coconut for them to suck the milk out
of it.
Lily pads floated on the large pond. Native grass huts were here and there throughout the
park. Valerie and Roy spent nearly the entire day there. It was a highlight of their trip. Roy
never let her hair go without a fresh picked flower in it!
Their very last night in Kawaii, Roy took Valerie to a luau. It was taking place in the
same area of their motel, called "Coconut Grove." Long tables were set up under this sugar cane
grass covering to hold all the food. There was a large stage and smaller round tables all around
with tablecloths on them. Pretty long-haired Hawaiian girls dressed in grass skirts and bikini
tops came around to each table with a gardenia leu for each guest. Valerie had on her pretty blue
floor length shoulder less dress Maggie LaPlay had loaned her. This was an extra special
occasion. Somewhere out there, there was a pig buried in the ground. The air was filled with
yummy cooking smells.
Suddenly, as Valerie was taking all this excitement in as fast as she could, a Hawaiian
man with just a small cloth draped around his waist and private parts, jumped up on the stage and
blew this rams horn. Then the bongo drums began; about ten of them from everywhere. It was a
really exhilarating experience. Four or five of the Hawaiian girls jumped up on platforms and
began to dance. They had fire dancers and fire swallowers. Then they announced the pig was
done and told everyone to get a plate. They all went out in the open where this pit had been dug.
They shoveled off the dirt, and then opened up these cloths, and there he (or she) was. It smelled
wonderful, but looked gross. After all the butchering Valerie had done? This dude looked worse
than what she'd seen. She never cared for pork anyway.
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The food was different. There was this bowl of stuff that looked like long, white, clear
worms. She passed on that one, too. In fact, all she can remember having was a little salad and,
“One more Mai Tai please.”
Roy and Valerie walked one more time along the beach barefooted, holding hands. The
warm ocean surf splashed upon their feet and legs. The moon was full, the soft breeze was
warm, actually a perfect temperature. Roy stopped and turned to look at Valerie. "I love you,
Valerie, do you know that?" he asked. Then he took her in his arms and they kissed for a long
time.
After lunch, the next day, they drove all around a different island in another bran-new
Mustang... convertible! They bum pity, bumped down the road about 10 miles an hour, as they
approached the first waterfall of 7 Falls, pouring down off the mountain like a wide curtain of
crystal clear water into a pool below. It was breathtaking. They stopped at all of the remaining
falls. Each one was unique and very beautiful. They were nearing the end of the island and
couldn't go anywhere but up. They got out of the car and started walking up a path. Nearly to
the top, Valerie's nose began to run. She was obviously allergic to some of the vegetation. She
had nowhere to blot her watery, runny nose. Valerie yelled, "God, I need a Kleenex." She no
sooner got that last word out, as she cupped her hand over her nose, when she turned around, and
lo and behold, there sitting neatly folded on a branch of a bush, eye level, was a clean white
handkerchief. Where it came from, they didn't know. With her hand over her nose, she looked
at Roy, and he looked at her in shock. Valerie quickly wiped her nose, and then they started
laughing. She'd never laughed so hard in her life. They could hardly continue walking up the
steep mountain, they were laughing so hard.
When they got to the top, they walked over to the guardrail and looked over the edge
expecting to see this breathtaking view of the entire island of Maui and suddenly busted into
laughter again, worse than before. All these people had been standing there after this struggling,
strenuous climb, just looking at clouds. Valerie blew her nose on God's hankie, and they headed
back down the mountain, still laughing, hysterically.
The next morning Roy said, "I've got a surprise for you today," as he sat up in bed. After
breakfast, they drove to the other far end of the island. "We're going on a helicopter ride. We're
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going to see all of Maui from a helicopter this time, and then the pilot is going to drop us off in a
secluded spot. The only way you can get to it is by helicopter," he said. "$500.00 covers the
tour of the islands, champagne, a romantic picnic lunch; and then they'll come to get us by 5:00
p.m.," Roy said, raising his eyebrows up and down like Groucho Marx. Valerie and Roy had
been checking out secluded beaches ever since they'd got to Hawaii to find one where they could
be totally alone.
The pilot had them put
earphones over their ears so
he could talk to them as they
toured the sights. It was so
incredibly beautiful.
went
miles
and
They
miles,
scanning the island, the pilot
explaining the history of the
island about all the rainfall
they had and such. The whole
tour took about an hour and a
half, then they were dropped off, picnic basket in hand, somewhere, who knows where.
It was a real paradise. Valerie spread out the blanket they'd provided on a small wooden
platform next to the small pond with a waterfall and opened the picnic basket. Wow, there was
champagne: two champagne glasses, crackers and cheese, and small sandwiches with the crusts
cut off. They sat on the platform and ate their lunch.
Valerie looked across the pond and said to Roy, "Look at those pretty flowers over there.
I wonder what they are." She no sooner got the last word out of her mouth, than he dove into the
icy cold water. "Roy, what are you doing?" Valerie yelled. He was swimming back to her with
this flower in his teeth. This was really special to Valerie. He swam to her. "Aren't you coming
in? The water is freezing. Come on in, Valerie," he said pulling on her arm. "I can't swim Roy,
no--wait,"… He climbed out of the water onto the platform; they both laid down kissing in one
another’s arms. One thing was leading to another, and then, suddenly… they heard rustling in
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the bushes. Roy sat up. A zillion things ran through their mind. Lions? Tigers? Bears? Oh
my! "S-h-h-h," Roy whispered, "Maybe it's just a rabbit." Then through the thicket emerged
another couple. "Hi," they said smiling big, "Small world." Valerie and Roy sat there next to
their champagne glasses, not believing this. Finally, "No problem, you guys just stay here, and
we'll move," Roy said grabbing the basket and heading for the other pond. They were alone at
last. Valerie slipped off her top and bra. Roy was swimming around like a baby seal, when
suddenly they heard a helicopter coming. They looked up and straight above them hovered a
helicopter full of people. The helicopter actually landed and all these people converged upon
them with their champagne and champagne glasses... What an unromantic way to end the last
outing of their vacation!
Back home again, sadly, Roy went to his corner, Valerie went to hers. They watched
each other slowly drift away into their own
separate lives again. Valerie had to get the ball
rolling and get preparations ready to serve over
300 people at a banquet in a few short weeks.
Everything seemed to have just stood in one
spot for ten days, waiting for Valerie to return
from her trip. Valerie's major focus was on a
dinner they were having for the donors of
Operation Outreach, "Harvest Celebration and
Appreciation Dinner." Since she had a record
of every donor that had given anything for the
past year or more, she had the invitation list
already compiled.
Valerie seemed to work with blueprints
in her mind. She could tell you the plan on the blueprints, she could even get you the hammer,
nails, boards, whatever was needed to build what was on the plans, but she couldn't seem to build
it herself. Denise Hotelling taught her about delegating responsibility to people who had the gift
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to carry out a particular part. Valerie had the rolodex nearly full of volunteers so there were the
people and the tools.
The decorating committee, the food preparation, the invitations, the entertainment,
professional singer, they were like a beautiful bouquet of spring flowers coming together, one
flower at a time, each one unique and different.
At the garden project, two parcels had been set aside for Operation Outreach. The
recipients (those in need), planted, cared for and harvested out of those two plots strictly for the
veggie stand, distribution, and for this special dinner. It was those in need that would be
preparing the food they'd gleaned in the fields, grown and harvested at the garden project, that
would be serving these people that made it all possible by their love and concern. The neat thing
was that the donors didn't know it.
It didn't cost much at all to put this all together. The food was all free. The labor was
free. The place was free, the entertainment was free, even the decorations were free. The
flowers came out of Valerie's yard and the Lompoc flower fields. Christian Broadcasting
Network was sending a camera crew to Santa Ynez the day of the dinner to film this new
ministry. Roy and the kids got lost somewhere in the shuffle. McDonald’s hamburgers and
pizza is about all they got for two weeks, but they actually didn't consider that suffering.
Valerie even bought herself a new dress and an expensive beautiful lace collar that was
handmade. She wanted Roy to be proud of her. All the recognition she was receiving, she
longed for it only coming from him. She needed his support of this new ministry.
The day arrived and the camera crew showed up around 10:00 a.m. There were two men,
and a woman named Sherri Alexander. A group of ladies worked with the camera crew in the
canning room while they filmed them canning applesauce and making bran muffins. Sherri
interviewed Valerie. When they finished filming the canning, they filmed Valerie messing
around with one of the turkeys (not butchering it!) Then they all went to the garden project.
After all the filming of the Operation Outreach story was done, everyone departed to get ready
for that evening. The crew would be filming the dinner.
The dinner was incredible. Everyone did such a good job. About seventy volunteers
were involved in the preparation. The whole hall and dining area was decorated in "harvest
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time." Bales of hay stacked with canned jars of produce the women had put up the past year.
Containers of dried fruit, loaves of wheat bread displayed, and of course, brown rice packages
from C.B.N here and there. Pumpkins, corn stalks and multi-colored gourds were cleverly
displayed next to the life size scarecrows that the scarecrow-maker lady (from Valerie’s rolodex)
had made out of pantyhose and 2x4's. They had been the prizes for the "Gardener's of the month
award," during the summer. The dehydrators were displayed with her pressure cookers and bee
harvesting equipment. Her old Garden Way cart held pumpkins and squash and corn ears. The
long tables were so lovely draped in white tablecloths, cloth napkins, real tableware, real dishes,
and several bouquets of her multi-variety flowers, dressed up with straw and autumn leaves and
tiny pumpkins and gourds.
The reception area had this incredibly beautiful display of
vegetables, truly a work of art.
Roy was there with the kids, and looked like he was hating every minute of it. In his
eyes, Valerie was such a phony. Sherri Alexander tried to film him for the segment, but his
attitude was so awful, they couldn't use the footage. He acted ashamed of Valerie and she didn't
know why.
Valerie had always tried to make it to Michael's football games. With all the sport
activities the kids were in spring, summer, fall and winter, it kept them hopping just keeping up
with all the games and practices. Michael seemed to always be the star player, or if he didn't
quite make it to the top to please everyone, especially Roy, it crushed him.
Valerie decided it was time for Roy to have a man
to man talk with Michael about... you know... sex. He
was 12 years old now. After asking Roy so many times
for so long, Valerie decided to do it herself.
She'd
remembered when she had told Michelle about sex, when
she was about eleven; and how a man put his penis into a
woman's vagina, she cried for days. She said Valerie had
to be wrong, Michelle told her, there had to be another
way to have a baby. When Valerie took Michael for a
ride with her in the old green truck to check on Betsy in
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the country one Saturday afternoon, Michael practically educated her by the time they got to the
country. Michael had always opened up to Valerie, ever since he was really little. She told
Michael that God had a very special young lady that He was saving just for Michael and he
needed to save himself for her. "There were dangers along the way," she warned him. "They
would try to rob him of the best. One was pornography," she told him. “Don’t look at those
magazines Michael. They are bad for you.”
The way she looked at it all, if you're going to have a potluck invite everybody: Baptists,
Presbyterians, Assembly of God, Church of Christ, Catholics. Whatever their names are didn’t
matter. If the Bible says were are to function like a body functions, well then, why shouldn't the
whole body be invited, instead of always trying to function separate from each other? This was
unheard of.
The Catholics seemed to be the closest that Valerie had experienced to being an example
of what the church should be doing. She could feel a love for people radiate from the priests and
clergy of the Catholic Mission in Santa Ynez. One time a man, named Father Peter, set a large
jar up at the seminary in the dining room, and labeled it, "For Operation Outreach." Within a
few days, it was full. He brought Valerie the jar full of coins and that's when she met Brother
James. They invited her to the seminary one afternoon to see the place where they all lived, and
to discuss what the Catholic Church could do to help Operation Outreach in any way.
The drive to the seminary was so beautiful any time of the year. Their land had been
donated to the church by some rich man that died. He really set them up nice. The minute you
drove onto the property, you felt a peace and sense of well being. Fruit trees of all kinds lined
the long drive-in road. The dark green manicured lawns rolled up and down like sea waves over
several acres of land. Flowers, oak trees, rosebushes, and iron lawn chairs dotted the estate. You
had to drive really slowly just to not miss seeing anything.
Father Peter was from Ireland or Scotland with the cutest accent. He had a heart in him
that was as big as life itself. "Welcome, welcome, Valerie," he said, while hugging her tightly.
"Come; let me show you around this beautiful place."
They walked all around the grounds talking and sharing stories of how God had touched
the lives of people they both knew. As they came around the main building, Father Peter picked
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a big orange off one of the trees and handed it to Valerie. Valerie walked over to the orange tree
they'd passed a while back, and picked another orange, peeled it and broke it in half, as Brother
Michael James ran across the lawn to meet them. "Here Michael James," Valerie said, handing
him half. Then she broke the other half in half and handed part to Father Peter. They ate and
laughed as sweet, sticky orange juice ran down their chins. In the kitchen Michael James,
Valerie and Father Peter stood at a big stainless steel mop sink with their sleeves rolled up and
their hands full of sudsy, foamy hand soap, washing their hands. Valerie was hoping this
experience was going to lead to some of the fresh baked fruit pies that lined a window sill.
She happened to look down at Brother James and saw the dirtiest looking, holiest pair of
tennis shoes she had ever seen. "Brother Michael James, what in the world?" she said laughing.
"What is with those tennis shoes on your feet?" Everyone looked down at his feet as he lifted up
the bottom of his robe, and laughed joyfully. They had a wonderful day together.
Valerie now had sixty families that they were feeding; clothing and all that went with it.
It was time for her to match the recipient families with the adoptive donors for their Adopt-AFamily Program at Christmas. The challenge was for people to stop thinking about themselves
long enough to give themselves through sharing.
She was working with Denise one afternoon on a flyer for The Adopt-A-Family Program,
to advertise it to the community again that year. King Merrill was going to put a big cover story
in the newspaper for them that would guarantee there would be no family in their valley that
would be without Christmas that year.
The phone rang. It was Mildred. An office space had been donated to Operation
Outreach by a local businessman that owned some small offices on Meadowvale Road, just as
you drove into downtown Santa Ynez. "It's real small," Mildred said, "but it will be a beginning
Valerie, to get some of this out of your home." Valerie knew not to despise the days of small
beginnings, but her vision clearly had been a huge building, such as the Solvang Castle with
bedrooms and bathrooms throughout the building.
As they came around the corner turning on to Meadowvale, Valerie slowed down to a
trickle. "Oh, no," she said, "it's right next door to Roy's business office. We can't rent this place.
It's like moving it out of our house into Roy's truck!"
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She walked into Roy's little one room office. He was sitting behind the desk. "Hi honey,
you got a minute?" she asked “Oh, hi, what are you up to today?" Valerie explained the
available office space that would get Operation Outreach out of their home.
He finally
consented, "Okay, you move the Outreach into this office two doors away and that means the
phone number at the Outreach gets moved, too. No more calls at the house."
The board had met and signed the papers. King had put an ad in the paper and by the end
of the week they had a desk, typewriter, files, couch, refrigerator, rugs, and shelves built,
everything they needed. Jim Chandler divided the small office by putting up a wall with a
doorway through it in the middle of the office. The tiny added room made a perfect place for
storing canned goods and a place to put the refrigerator.
One afternoon, a young couple, Lisa and Rob Hamilton came into the Outreach office. A
church had turned them away. Rob was about eighteen years old, and had long hair to his waist
with a band around his head like an Indian. Lisa had long light brown hair and was probably
sixteen or so. They looked like a couple of hippies out of the sixties. They had a little boy about
two years old, and one obviously on the way. She looked like she could deliver any day. They
were nearly out of gas, broke, hadn't eaten all day, and their little son was sick. She hadn't seen
the doctor her entire pregnancy. Their car was a piece of junk. One of the volunteers fixed them
a meal on an old hot plate that had been donated to the Outreach. By the end of the day they had
picked out whatever they needed from Phyllis's clothing store. Operation Outreach found for
them a place to stay, set up an appointment with a doctor that was willing to donate his time, and
food was being gathered to greet them at their new home. The word was out to find the young
man a job. Father Peter took up another one of those gallon jar collections and brought it to them
the next day. Three days later, Lisa (the young girl) gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl.
Someone rented them a small trailer in exchange for Rob working at their gas station in a small
town called Los Alamos. Operation Outreach was functioning as a well oiled machine.
Just before Thanksgiving, an elderly lady with a bulldog frown and a bark to match hit
the Outreach door carrying a bag. Her name was Margretta Berry. She was blankety-blankblank-blank, from the moment she got out of her car. She pushed and shoved and cussed and
spit, what a character she was. We weren't giving out canned goods, even though the shelves
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were full of them. Instead, we lined up the back of the building with gleaned vegetables, fruits,
bread, dairy products, and government commodities like flour, butter, cheese, honey, peanut
butter, powdered milk and whatever else the government wanted to unload; all this, but not the
canned goods. Margretta Berry went past the shelves of canned goods to get to the back of the
building. "I want some of these," she'd yell. "I'm sorry, but these canned goods are for
emergencies, Margretta," one of the staff told her. "Like hell it is, I am an emergency!" she
screamed. She was a fumin' and a cussin', even after she'd just taken the canned goods, anyway.
Anyone else would have kicked her out. As Margretta was leaving that day, Valerie stopped her
at the front door. "Margretta, you know something?" she said. "What?" she barked. "You look
like you need a hug," and Valerie walked towards her. "Don't you touch me!" she yelled.
Valerie stood there a moment and stepped towards her again. "Don't touch me!" she warned
again as she froze up stiff standing there. Valerie put her arms around her anyway and embraced
her stiff, rigid body. "Don't touch me you bitch," she yelled again. Margretta left cussing under
her breath with her middle finger up in the air pointed at Valerie.
The next Wednesday was the same, but worse. She put half the canned goods they had in
her grocery bag. She took way too much of everything. Foul language poured out of her mouth,
especially when she saw Valerie. Valerie was sitting behind the desk interviewing a new young
mother, when Margretta walked towards the door, arms
full of groceries, cussing under her breath. "Bye Margretta," Valerie said, looking up from under
her paper work. "See you next week." "Fuck you bitch," she said, slamming the door behind
her. Valerie went back to what she was doing. About a minute later the front door of the office
creaked open a little, then a little more. She looked up to see who was peeping in the door. It
was Margretta. She stuck her head through the small opening that she'd made, and whispered to
Valerie as she looked around to make sure no one heard her… "Don't I get a hug today?"
An entire family came to the Outreach one cold December morning.
They were
homeless, hungry and had nothing but the clothes on their back. A local church sent them. The
only thing the Outreach could find was an old wooden four room abandoned farm house on
Alamo Pentado Road. The house was going to be torn down in the spring, the owner said. It
wasn't insulated at all and the wind whistled through the cracks and from under the doors. There
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was an old wood stove to heat the house. Within two days it was completely furnished with
everything. It looked like they'd lived in it ten years with all the stuff they got from all over the
community. Bed, sheets, lamps, hair curlers, table and chairs, towels, dishes, pots and pans,
refrigerator, stove, and someone even donated tile to re-roof the place. Robert, the father, was
hired by a farmer to help with the farm. Cindy, his wife, was provided a piano for her to teach
piano lessons to help with their expenses.
People were pouring into the Outreach. A man named Paul Martinez had a family to
support. He had hurt his back really bad. No insurance, no workman's compensation. The
social security was peanuts for this family of six and he wasn't allowed to work or they'd drop
him like a hot potato. Operation Outreach provided for his family, and in turn, he delivered
groceries to shut-ins.
The Solvang castle
had been sold to a Jewish
man right after Y.W.A.M.
moved out.
One of the
ladies in Valerie's prayer
circle had a vision of the
castle with a bunch of
rooms
there;
a
soup
kitchen, clothing room,
barber shop.
It was a
vision nearly like the one
Valerie had in the pasture that day. The Jewish man had leased the castle to a lady and, as in the
vision; the two of them put one and a half million dollars into it, and remodeled the entire
building to make it into a bed and breakfast place. It was incredible.
Valerie was driving down Highway 246 one afternoon in her ol' green truck, when she
saw this young woman and a small boy walking along the roadside. She's seen a truck and
camper shell about a mile or so back, and figured that she must have run out of gas. The girl got
in the truck with Valerie. At first glance, she looked like she had dirt all over her face. With the
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second glance, she noticed it was freckles, all over her face. She said the boy was her son. She
was a single mom on her own with this young boy. Valerie pulled the truck over to the side of
the road again. "You don't have a purse, billfold, or a gas can. I'll bet I know what's wrong.
You're out of gas and you're broke? Am I right?" Valerie asked. "Yep, you're right," the lady
said.
She wasn't from the valley and she and her small son were living in her camper shell and
had been for months. She couldn't get a job because she had no one to take care of him; she had
no money so she couldn't pay someone to take care of him to get a job. Valerie got the gas can,
filled the truck up, and took her to Operation Outreach and made some phone calls. After a few
days, Annie (she was called) was found a place to live. She became an active part of Operation
Outreach.
The Adopt-A-Family Christmas Program had been kicked off full blast. Valerie had
eighty families that needed adopting. She'd had all the Operation Outreach families fill out their
forms, listing their child's first name, age, sex, clothing needs, size, favorite color, and their
child's wish list. Also a list of their family's needs, towels, blankets, sheets, pillows, and so on.
Valerie had to call one family about her kids shoe sizes, since she didn't write that down
on her information sheet. The lady told Valerie that her kids had never had a new pair of shoes
in their life so she had no idea what size they wore. She traced her kid’s feet on a piece of
cardboard and brought that. The lady that adopted that family called back crying. She said it
made her realize how much she and her family took for granted.
She will never forget one call. It was so funny. The lady that called was ranting and
raving over the phone. She said, "I'm sitting here wrapping thousands of dollars worth of stuff
for my spoiled brat grand kids, and they won't give a damn the day after Christmas about me,
anymore. I was listening to the radio, and heard that interview they did with that lady that works
down at the Outreach. I got so moved by some of the stories she told about in the program, and
what happened last year, that I decided to take all this crap back to the stores where it came from.
Let the brats do without. I want to adopt the biggest family you've got, and I want to shoot the
works."
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While helping many people, Valerie was neglecting herself and had in time gone from
135 pounds to 200. She had such little confidence in herself. One day as she was busy applying
her makeup and listening to TV at the same time, she heard this lady talking about her childhood.
Everyone she had ever loved or cared for had violated her in some hideous way, except for her
dad. Then she told how the thing she'd feared the most had come upon her. Her daddy molested
her... Valerie suddenly felt nauseous as she heard those words. Fear, raging anger, deep sorrow
flooded her soul all at the same time. It was like some ugly, hideous monster had been laying
dormant deep inside; in the darkest darkness of her mind, and it was beginning to rise to the
surface... familiar feelings were bubbling to the top. She fought back the tears that welled up in
her eyes as she struggled to stay in control. She flipped off the TV. She couldn't hear anymore.
What was the matter with her? Valerie didn't understand this sudden surge of emotion.
Roy and Valerie had continued to drift farther and farther apart after Hawaii. It was so
sad. Valerie couldn't seem to stop it no matter what she tried, short of submitting to his sexual
advances more than once a week. Saturday at 7:00 a.m. was the schedule.
One Friday evening after a rough day at Operation Outreach, Valerie went to bed early,
exhausted. She fell into a deep, deep sleep. The moment she fell to sleep, she must have begun
to dream. She was five, maybe six months old, lying on a table of some kind. The room was
very dark as she was seeing it all from a little baby girl's point of view. All of a sudden, she saw
a figure walk into the room, a man. He was tall and very familiar as she looked up to his large
silhouette. At first she was frightened, but then began to smile and kick her legs with great
anticipation when she recognized who it was. It was her daddy, but... his face, it was angry
looking or something, his eyes were glassy. Suddenly a sharp pain started that penetrated from
between her legs and raced into her lower abdomen. She screamed in pain as she looked with
confusion into the face and eyes of someone who had once held her in his arms and kissed her
forehead, and threw her in the air as she giggled and laughed. Valerie was having a total
reenactment of what actually happened to her as a small baby: total feeling, smells, sight,
everything! “My God”, she cried, “Stop him!” She woke up from that dream terrified. Roy still
hadn't come to bed.
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Slowly the fear subsided and she drifted back to sleep, only to see herself again, this time
an eight year old little girl, standing on the bank of a pond, and fishing. This kind man was
helping her put a worm on her hook. He was a real nice man. He seemed so interested in her
and what she was doing.
The scene changes: He was pulling off her jeans and panties; laying her down in the tall
grass. Tears trickled down her temples as she focused on the only thing beautiful she could see,
the clouds, the puffy clouds in the sky. Valerie, in this dream, was watching herself being rapedl
All of the feelings, the smells, the guilt, the shame, the pain, and the disappointment, because she
had trusted him. When he had finished with Valerie, he never took her for the ice cream cone he
had promised.
Valerie wakes up again crying, sobbing like a little child. Roy still wasn't in bed. “If he
could only be here just to hold me”, she thought.
Back asleep again. She was ten or so this time. Another dark room in her dream. She
was alone in her bed, in her room on 36th
Street in Des Moines. She could see in her dream, even in the pitch dark, the knotty pine walls.
The door didn't squeak anymore when it opened since her step-father, Bob, had greased it. She
had watched him a few days before as she stood at the kitchen doorway. The squeak always
warned her of the impending danger she was in. A part of her was always standing on guard,
even when she slept, listening to every sound, every footstep. He had opened her door, and was
coming closer to her bed. She couldn't move for fear. She squinted her eyes shut ever so tight,
tighter, and tighter, as he pulled back the silk quilt and slid his cold hand up the back of her leg,
then under her panties. She pretended she was asleep because there was nowhere else to hide...
and she lay there... screaming, in her little ten year old mind. She closed her eyes tighter, why
was it taking so long? She didn't dare scream out loud, her mom couldn't know. Valerie would
get another beating, Bob and mom would fight again, and it would be her fault... again! Valerie
awoke from the dream sobbing, her eyes still squinted shut tightly, her hands clenched tightly
into a fist, as she wanted to fight back and defend herself. Roy had finally come to bed. Valerie
whispered his name softly, but he didn't hear her. Besides, she reasoned, he wouldn't have the
words she needed to comfort her. He wasn’t interested in any thing like this... She was alone.
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She tried to stay awake, but finally drifted off to sleep trying to think of happy thoughts.
It didn't work. Dream after dream, all night long, experience after experience of: incest, rapes,
beatings, witches in white flowing gowns, black candles burning, men with black hooded robes
coming after her, blood splattered on walls, and so on and on. The very last dream she had, she
was a little child in the corner of a dark room like a basement or something, facing a brick wall,
with the back of her dress pulled up between her legs. She was lying in the fetal position on a
cold cement floor. The smells were terrible. The isolation was unbearable. Valerie was like a
frightened little helpless animal. Whimpering like a puppy, and saying over and over in her
mind, "No one will ever touch me again!" Suddenly she was awakened from this hideous
nightmare, and abruptly shocked awake as she felt an arm come around her waist. It was Roy! It
was Saturday, 7:00 a.m.. She sat up in bed immediately from the fetal position she was in. The
back of her night gown was pulled up tight between her legs and she was clutching the end of it
so tight her knuckles were numb. "Don't touch me!" she screamed at him. He dressed and left
the house. He was on the San Marcos Pass, almost twenty miles outside of Santa Ynez on his
way to Santa Barbara, when he just felt like he needed to turn the truck around and come home
to talk to her. Suddenly he wasn't mad at her. Valerie told Roy about her dream. "I love you,
Roy. I want to be normal like other women. I'm so afraid of sex. I need so badly to be held and
talked to and touched without any sex, sometimes." "You need to go to a shrink or something,
Valerie. I don't know what it will take to help you. I feel real bad you went through all you
have, but what am I supposed to do? I love you. Why can't you just love me like you used to
when we first met?" he asked. "Roy, that was sixteen years ago. I wasn't even the same person
that I am now," Valerie said. "You need to do something to change. This marriage is in trouble.
Either things change or I'm leaving for awhile," he said, walking out the back door towards his
truck. It was all her fault again, she said to herself.
Another Christmas and New Year had come and gone. Valerie hardly had time for her
own family's Christmas; she had gotten so involved in Christmas for others in Operation
Outreach's Adopt-A-Family Program. Funny, no one seemed to notice any changes. Valerie
almost forgot to stuff their Christmas stockings. She didn't add a huge log to the fireplace and
put apple cider on to simmer on the stove so their waking moment in the morning would be full
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of the smell of cinnamon and cloves in the air. She didn't leave the Christmas lights on all night
long, in case they got up. She went to bed that night by 11:00, instead of 2:00 or 3:00 a.m.
A week or so into the first of the year, Valerie got a really special phone call from Costa
Mesa, California. It was from Sherri Alexander. She had directed the camera crew for the 700
Club segment done on Operation Outreach in October, a few months earlier.
Valerie invited Sherri to help her celebrate her 38th birthday and stay the entire weekend.
Sherri and Valerie hit it off great. Before the weekend was over God had told Sherri in a dream
to do research on a book about Valerie's life. When Valerie told Roy about the book about her
life, he responded just the way Valerie knew he would, "Why would somebody want to do a
book about your life? How much is it going to cost? Don't you already have enough going on in
your life? Why can't you just be a regular person?" He popped a cookie in his mouth on the way
down to the family room to watch TV and said, "If this is what you need to be happy."
Valerie had a secret hiding place that she'd named "Happy Trails," behind their property.
It was off by itself and there was a little creek that was hidden below the trees. You can't hear
anything but the rippling water moving steadily over the rocks and leaves.
Shirley Chandler had given her a small book with blank pages in it for a Christmas
present. She'd told Valerie to call it whatever she wanted it to be; a journal, a diary, a book of
poems or songs. Shirley had been writing in one as a journal. It helped her keep track of
important issues in her life. Valerie had remembered how God had told her to document
everything.
She would grab her little journal, (her "Happy Trails" book) and a pen, and head for her
hiding place. Rebecca's horse, Goddess, would follow her down the dirt path, over the millions
of dried fallen leaves, past the bee hives, down a ravine to where this big fallen branch was. It
made a perfect stool to sit on right by the brook. The birds were chirping a beautiful song. It
was like being deep into the woods where no one could find you. She was safe here. This was
her hiding place. As Goddess stood close by her, sipping the cold water bubbling over the rocks,
she began writing in her new, "Happy Trails" book.
Valerie looked like a wreck and felt even worse as she gained weight. She'd been having
a lot of physical problems. Not only her neck from the injuries, and the car wreck, but she was
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having a lot of digestion problems, constipation, her kidneys infected a lot. Her health had gone
downhill since the bee attack. She finally had to go to a specialist. The doctor ordered a kidney
dye test.
Not being able to read she just signed the warning paper that told about possible side
effect to the kidney dye. Valerie climbed up onto the x-ray table. The two nurses in the room
were giggling and laughing about some date one of them had had. They were both in their own
world. Valerie lay on her back as one nurse swung the big x-ray machine apparatus above her.
The other nurse tied off the top of her arm to locate a vein for the injection. Finally, locating a
vein, she slowly injected the dye into her arm. Instantly, Valerie began to get dizzy, and this
incredible burning began inside her buttocks area and was moving down her legs and up her
torso at the same time. "I'm burning," she said the moment the strange sensation began. Within
seconds the burning increased to the point of no return. It felt like she was being micro waved
from the inside out. Only fifteen or twenty seconds after the injection, Valerie could feel herself
dying...and she couldn't do a thing about it. The fire inside moved up her body like ignited
gasoline. Then it was over, Valerie was dead! Immediately, her soul separated from her body
and hovering in the left hand, upper corner of the x-ray room.
The moment the one nurse saw Valerie had stopped breathing, she yelled, "Oh shit," and
ran to the other side of the room to a table and began to break these glass tubes in half. She
fumbled with three or four of them, cussing with frustration, in a state of panic. Valerie’s soul
hovering near the ceiling as an observer: she had no emotion one way or the other. While one
nurse was freakin' out fumbling over those small vials of ammonia, trying to break them, the
other nurse was giving her CPR. Valerie knew what each one was thinking as clearly as she
could hear what they were saying. Valerie looked on. There was a sweet, old man sitting on a
chair right by the right side of hear head, stroking her hair with his hand, ever so gently. She
always loved it when that was done to her, but who was this old man? The nurse that had been
breaking the glass vials, ran over to Valerie's side. Funny, the older man didn't have to move an
inch while she, the nurse, stood next to her head. She swiped the glass tube below her nose as
the other nurse stopped bouncing the palms of her hands (with all her might) up and down on
Valerie’s chest. Suddenly, she was back in her body.
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Her mind snapped back into being isolated into one place, her head. Valerie knew
instantly what had just happened to her. She had died and the nurses were embarrassed and
knew they had a close-call on their hands. They both looked at one another with a sigh of relief.
Because of their neglect of realizing Valerie was in trouble as the dye was being administered
into her veins, she had died. While they helped her off of the table Valerie’s memory flashed
back to the car wreck Rebecca and she were in. While she prayed, hovered over Rebecca’s body
laying on the front car seat, a young man had calmly patted her on the shoulder and said to her,
"everything's going to be all right."
Valerie, later reflecting on that day of the accident,
wondered how he had gotten behind the wheel of the truck, since the driver's side door was
smashed in and unable to open, and she had Rebecca on the other side. Then she knew... he was
an angel. As she placed her feet on the hospital room floor, Valerie whispered to the air, Thanks,
you did a great job."
Both nurses just look at one another, smiled and said with some
discomfort... "You're welcome." She wasn’t talking to them, but they didn’t know that, the man
stroking her hair was an angel too, but why an old man when an angel could change into any
appearance?
Suddenly, speaking invitations were coming out of the woodwork. Valerie was asked to
speak for a church women's auxiliary meeting. When the president of the auxiliary introduced
Valerie with all the complimentary whoop-la, she felt the need to look behind her. Mildred had
gone to the auxiliary meeting with her. Mildred said that Valerie could sniff out a fake a mile
away, no matter what rock they were hiding under. Valerie never could beat around the bush.
Valerie shared with them the stories about people that God had changed and how she'd
discovered that no one was beyond rehabilitation. She explained that many of them, and
hundreds more were being turned away by the churches. The women were flabbergasted! The
deacons committee had just voted to give a bunch of money to the Sheriff's Department to take
care of the "free loaders," so the church didn't have to mess with them. Valerie proceeded to call
some of them hypocrites. The women there remembered a deacon labeling a single mom a
"leaky bucket." Valerie continued, "While the church committees fight over what color carpet
they want in the synagogue and where the piano should go, and what color the church's
stationery should be, mothers and wives were running to Operation Outreach right after being
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beaten by their husbands. There is neglect, abuse, unmet needs, demon harassment; you name it
streaming through our doors. The church is sleeping through all of this."
Soon, the Presbytery was asking Valerie to speak at their meeting. Valerie asked Mildred
what a Presbytery was. She said it was quite an honor to be invited to speak, because it was the
pastors of all the local churches, meeting together. Well, here they were, and here Valerie was.
She told them the same thing she had told the women's auxiliary.
"Operation Outreach isn't a denomination. It's like a wheel. We're the hub of the wheel.
All the so called 'denominations,' and in fact, the entire community can hook up to that hub, and
we all go around together. The Outreach just provides a way for you to give and get involved
with being a blessing," Valerie said. She told them about the families, moms, teenagers that had
come to the churches first and they were turned away, and sent to Operation Outreach.
"You pastors are the ones that missed the blessing. You missed knowing these precious
people and you missed out on what God wanted to do through you. They came to you first.
Why do we have to pay so much attention to the outward appearance? It doesn't matter whether
we lift our hands when we pray or dance with a tambourine, if we sit on the floor or in plush
padded pews, if we wear mink coats and fancy hats to church, or cut-offs and t-shirts. It doesn't
matter, God looks on the heart. False eyelashes and wigs are more acceptable in the church than
a man with long hair and bare feet, but why does it matter so much?" Valerie continued.
Several months after Rob and Lisa Hamilton had stopped going to Operation Outreach,
Valerie received a phone call she would never forget. It was Lisa. She was screaming and
crying so hard Valerie could barely understand her. She was screaming, "she's dead, she's dead,
my God, she's dead." "Who's dead Lisa? I can't understand you," Valerie hollered at her in the
phone. "My baby, Valerie, she's in my arms and she's dead, my baby girl is dead!" she cried.
Lisa had put her daughter in the bathtub and the phone rang. She was gone only a short time, but
when she returned, her baby had drowned. "Where's Rob, Lisa?" Valerie asked. "I'll be there
just as soon as I can get there, Lisa," Valerie told her. "You need to call the police, Lisa." It was
a thirty minute drive to where they lived.
One late evening as Valerie was preparing to leave; there was a knock on the Outreach
door. It was nearly dark outside and Denise and Valerie were finishing up the last minute details
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on their very first Operation Outreach newsletter. Denise went to the door, and there stood this
sad looking, dejected man. "Excuse me," he said. "I hate to bother you, but I was told you could
maybe help me." Denise invited him into the office and asked him to sit down. He didn't want
food or clothing or a place to spend the night. He had a gun in his truck and he wanted to kill
himself. He was dead serious. By the end of that evening he had a new lease on life. Dale was
his name. He loved to fish. Roy took him out on his lobster boat a few times. One day at the
office, Annie was helping Valerie stock canned goods on the shelves (Annie is the homeless
young mom that Valerie had picked up walking down the road out of gas in her truck. She was
with her son, Jerrid). When Dale walked through the door, Annie looked up. Their eyes met.
Well, if it wasn't daylight, you could have seen the sparks that day. By the end of the year, Dale
and Annie were married.
Sherri Alexander called Valerie one afternoon to let her know that she had quit her job at
the 700 Club as a camera crew producer. She was coming back to live with them for awhile so
she could do research on this book she was going to write on Valerie's life story. She had a small
tape recorder and boxes of blank tapes she'd bought. She'd compiled questions that she was
going to ask Valerie, starting as far back as Valerie could remember, then going slowly through
the years of her childhood.
Valerie was to answer her questions the best that she could
remember into the tape recorder, and then Sherri would take what Valerie had said on tape and
transcribe it onto paper. Shortly after Sherri arrived, Valerie had a dream of a huge wall, made
of thick gray bricks, that was too high to climb over and too long in both directions to walk
around. Valerie was to go through this wall, but she could picture her body being broken into
pieces as she hit the wall, blood spattering everywhere. When she finally closed her eyes on the
impact, the wall split and tore like an old newspaper. This wall that had seemed so strong and
mighty and so impossible to penetrate was a lie, and a fake. It was only made of paper. This
dream of the wall represented her fears, and they were all nothing but lies, but Valerie was
programmed by people and circumstances to believe them.
As Sherri and Valerie began on the long bumpy road to her recovery one step at a time,
Valerie found herself expressing the pain of all those memories in various ways; eating, working
harder at Operation Outreach, and pulling further away from Roy. One memory triggered off
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another, and story after story of Valerie's hideous past unfolded. Sherri was very gentle with
Valerie. She never tried to force anything out of her. She did say several times that if Valerie
felt like crying while she was sharing any of these stories she should, but Valerie couldn't.
One afternoon, Sherri said, "Valerie, I have an idea. I have some money in a trust my
grandmother gave to me. I want to see about getting some of it, and you and I spend one week a
month going back to these places you've told me about; back to Des Moines where you were
born. I want to see everything, take pictures of everywhere, and get your deepest emotions on
audio tape. Then, the next month we'll go to Lubbock, Texas for a week. Then, the next month
we'll go to Tucson, Arizona. We'll walk where you walked, and relive it all... all over again," she
said.
Valerie was now the founder, president, administrator of a growing organization with a
board of five or seven people. Thousands of dollars came through Operation Outreach. The
board would think about something, weigh and measure every aspect of it, consider the financial
cost. "Is this the best way to approach the problem? Maybe we should wait for awhile to make
sure this is really God we're hearing." Yuck! Mildred always hung in there with Valerie. She
knew this politics junk backwards and forwards. She also understood Valerie more than anyone
and she understood how God worked through her life. If Valerie had a need and needed to buy
something for ministering to someone in a particular area, she just bought it.
Mildred
recommended to the board that they give Valerie a checking account of her own and an
allowance, so to speak, for when she needed money.
Denise was on the board also and lately seemed to be getting more and more arrogant,
cocky and aggressive. Sometimes she acted as if she were the boss of it all. One particular day at
the office, Denise was showing Valerie something on some paper that she'd typed up. Valerie
was extremely drained from sitting up with Sherri the night before. They had been skimming
over the main details of what happened during those turbulent years at sixteen. It all was still
very stressful for Valerie but she kept pushing herself. Denise never really knew that Valerie
couldn't read much. She handed her this paper to read, but Valerie made some excuse like she
always did, and Denise yanked the paper out of her hand abruptly and said to her, "You know
something, sometimes you act so illiterate, I don't know how you got this far in life." Valerie
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was crushed. She'd heard that word “illiterate” used before, but didn’t know what it meant. So
many had told her that she was stupid, in fact, she had been telling Sherri all along in her life's
story how stupid everyone had said she was. It seems like since Sherri and her had been doing
all of this, digging into the past stuff; it was what she remembered most about herself. Valerie
just stood there a moment in shock, while Denise was off on some other conversation and had no
idea she'd hurt her so deeply. Valerie left the office and drove straight to the country. She
couldn't go home, Sherri would want to dig some more.
Roy and Valerie had several big fights over the fact that she wasn't on some kind of
payroll at Operation Outreach. His argument was that she spent six days a week, nearly twentyfour hours a day doing this, and felt like Valerie needed to be a priority on the Operation
Outreach budget. Valerie didn't want to be paid, but felt guilty about eating a meal on "God's
money."
When Valerie was hungry, she'd put off eating until her blood sugar level was so low she
couldn't think anymore, then she'd usually go to the nearest fast food place and order the biggest
of everything.
Some times she'd park the car in an alley or someplace far away from everyone where she
could hide herself, and nearly cram the whole burger in her mouth at once, eating so fast she’d
nearly choked, not chewing her food hardly at all and washing it down with an extra large coke,
with extra ice. In her mind, she could hear voices simultaneously whispering in her head, "You
fat pig, look at you, just look at you. What if someone were watching you eat? “You ugly, fat
pig.” Besides that, you bought this food with God's money. You're a thief." These voices (not
audible) in her head always brought guilt, shame, intimidation, fear, and paranoia, confirming
her feelings of worthlessness.
It was real strange what was happening to Calvary Way, the church she and her family
attended. It seemed to be the only real loving church around. It was a wonderful place to send
their Operation Outreach families. It was like this force of darkness moving over the church.
Valerie couldn't put her finger on it at the time. It was hideous, like a poison fog infiltrating
through the church unnoticed at first, until it finally hit like a bomb. Then, a special meeting had
been called. By the end of that meeting, the church had split. This was the last time Roy had
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wanted to go to church. Roy laid down his spiritual protective covering over his family, and all
hell was getting ready to break loose.
One freezing cold afternoon an elderly man was seen, walking up Highway 246
barefooted and with no jacket or anything on but a pair of pants and flimsy short sleeved shirt.
The next day he wandered into Operation Outreach. He looked like a zombie walking slowly
towards their office door. He was barefooted all right, dirty, sick looking and skin and bones.
The women scurried about locating things to make him more comfortable and gave him a
blanket to warm himself. One of the women asked him, "Would you like us to get you some
clothing?" The man nodded his head, yes. "Can you tell us what kind of shoes you like?" she
asked. "I want boots, real boots," he answered kind of abruptly, "And a hat... a real hat," he
added.
He devoured the two sandwiches and a bowl of Campbell's Vegetable Soup. The ladies
arrived with the boots, hat and three nice flannel shirts, two pairs of jeans, and socks and
underwear. He didn't want the socks, but put the boots on right away, them and the hat. He only
liked one of the shirts (he put on right there) and didn't want the others. It seemed real strange
that someone so desperate could be so picky, but he was. Finally everyone was gone except
Valerie and this homeless man. The last of the ladies walked out of the door and drove away.
No one even blinked an eye at leaving her alone with this homeless, harmless old man.
It was 5:00 p.m. or so. She couldn't just throw him back out on the streets. It was
supposed to freeze that night, the weatherman said. He had laid down on the couch about 4:00
p.m. They all figured that he was probably exhausted so they just let him sleep. Valerie had a
lot of questions she needed to ask him so she needed to wake him up. Did he have family
anywhere? Where was he going? She started to walk towards the couch where he laid when
suddenly as he was laying there, his eyes opened wide.
"Get me something to eat," he ordered. "You just had two sandwiches and some soup,
are you still hungry? I've only got canned food, bread and cheese here. Everything else has been
given away today during....." He interrupted Valerie, "I want some food, and I’m hungry.
Anything, I want some food." Wow, poor thing, Valerie thought, so she opened a can of cream
of chicken soup and some government American cheese that came in a five pound block. She
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walked into the office with the opened can of soup and cheese in her hand. She was going to ask
him how many sandwiches he wanted and that it would just take a moment to heat up the soup as
soon as the hot plate heated up, when he told her to give him the food. "Just like this?" Valerie
asked, "Don't you want me to..." He interrupted, "Give it to me!" She handed it to him, still
lying down on the couch, and while he lay there on his side, he scooped the cold soup out with
his right hand and ate it with his fingers. He tore the wrapping off the cheese and devoured the
entire five pounds. "More," he ordered, "I'm hungry." Wow, this was bizarre. Valerie opened
up another can of cold soup and handed that to him (with a spoon in it) and a loaf of bread and
two opened cans of tuna fish. He threw the spoon on the floor, and with his hands ate all she
gave him. Yes... the whole loaf of bread too! By 6:00 p.m., like a dog slobbering food all over
the couch, he'd eaten two more cans of soup and a jar of peanut butter. Valerie couldn't believe
what she saw, all while he was lying down.
Valerie, ignoring the warning signs, squatted down near his head and whispered softly
and compassionately, "we need to talk, sir. I need to know how to help you. I can't just leave
you here by yourself, and I won’t turn you out into the cold” His eyes suddenly opened fast and
wide, it scared her so much she almost fell backwards onto the floor. She reached up to touch
his head as a gesture to comfort him and to pRoy for him when, faster than anything she'd ever
seen, that was of this world, his hand came up, grabbed the nipple on her right breast and twisted
it so hard she screamed in pain. She fell back as if she had been spring-loaded. It all happened
so lightning fast, and hit the target so perfectly; she instantly knew this guy had a demonic
problem. Valerie had been through many things in her life, and with it all came the knowing of
things that were from things you couldn’t see in the natural, but you knew it in you knower,
something else, very powerful was controlling the person and situation. Valerie began to get up.
"I'm going to kill you, you bitch" he said as she continued her efforts to get to her feet. Valerie
was so heavy it wasn’t easy. Suddenly, as the danger she was in pressed in on her with a fear
that gripped her like a vise, "No, you're not you liar," welled up inside with a boldness she hadn't
felt but twice before in her life. "I bind you in the name of the Jesus!" He instantly obeyed.
She then called for help, and Denise came back to the office. The demons had been in this poor,
homeless man for so long that, when he was asked if he would like to be free of them, God
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would deliver him, he said, “No,” they had been there for too long and he was afraid to make that
choice. The man slipped the hat they gave him off his head and his new boots and walked out
into the cold dark night, barefooted, his boots and hat were left sitting on the couch. He walked
up the street towards Highway 246. A few days later, he was found huddled in between some
bushes off of Highway 246; dead from exposure.
Roy was into questionable movies and music. One day shortly after the churches had
split, he told Valerie, "Why should I be gray like the rest of all of you? You're neither black nor
white. No one knows what you are because you look gray. At least if I'm black, you know what
I am." He was right. Valerie saw the same thing, but it was all labeled "Christian."
It was a great loss in their lives for the animals to be gone. All that was left was her
Betsy and some geese, and her neighbor still on their case. Sallsberry, next door, had been
throwing a fit for years about the way Valerie hand watered everything. He said she left the
sprinklers on too long. With two acres to water with a few hoses and some rain birds, it was real
time consuming, to say the least. Valerie bartered with Spud Miller, a landscaper, to put in a
sprinkling system. His wife was the nurse that had given Valerie the antihistamine to help with
the allergic reaction when she got stung so badly by all those bees. Spud worked so hard putting
that system in for Valerie, and she knew what she'd bartered for it wasn't an even exchange.
Being so fat, having to go through the OUT door because she couldn’t fit through the
turnstiles, Valerie was ashamed for Spud to be seen with her in the hardware store to pick out the
sprinkler heads; a mist sprayer, a spray sprayer, a rain-bird type, finger sprayers, pop-up
sprayers, pop-up finger sprayers?
She was so huge, and so humiliated.
All kinds of
schizophrenic behavior were stirring up in her since Sherri had been digging. She had never had
this paranoiac behavior to this extreme, except when she was a child. Valerie had a constant
struggle and deep desire for some sign of approval and support within her own family, but it
wasn't getting better and easier. It was getting worse and harder combined with her obese
condition, and failing health under the stress.
Valerie
sat
quietly
on
her
tree
trunk
at
"Happy
Trails,"
as
she so often did, watching the water trickling steadily, endlessly over the little rocks and pebbles
over the path it had forged through the years of passing through the same spot. Although it all
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looked the same, and was never ending, it wasn't boring at all to watch. It reminded her of God.
"What's missing in my life that keeps me on these roller coaster emotions?" she thought. There
was such a battle raging inside. Like a yo-yo, she'd go from sorrow, when anything had to do
with her personally, to praise, when she could feel herself being used by her God. From deep
despair, when she'd identify with the suffering she saw everyday, everywhere, to ecstasy, when
she’d listen to the Bible on tape in the mornings and hear of all of the promises for wholeness; a
hope, and a future for all of those who trusted their lives into the hand of the Savior. It said that
the last to be chosen would be the first He will call, “Oh please use my life Lord, all I am, and all
I’m not.” was her deepest cry of all.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an ambulance siren screaming through the
air, someone was hurting... she prayed for them. Feeling so much better for the few minutes of
quiet, she walked back to the house with Goddess right on her heels. And, on her way back to
the house through the pasture, she stumbled on a rock about the size of her fist, maybe a little
larger. It was flat on one side. She had Karen Macintosh, a calligraphy writer, and volunteer at
Operation Outreach, paint "Let those without sin cast the first..." and then she put the stone on
her desk.
It was spring again. It wouldn't be long, and the red, white and blue lilac bushes that
she'd planted a few years earlier all along the property line between Sallsberry's place and theirs
would be blooming. She could hardly wait. She wanted them to grow to be 15' tall, bush to
bush, so Sallsberry would have to really put out a lot of effort to see into their yard. Maybe his
conscience would bother his nosiness. He would have to spread the branches apart, or get upon
the roof of his house to be able to check up on any wrong doings on their part. The kids were
very active socially and there was always something going on at the house. She guessed she was
harboring a bit of un-forgiveness for Sallsberry and his part in the loss of all her animals. Mr.
and Mrs. Sallsberry's bedroom window was right next to that property line. He and his wife
could wake up each morning to their bedroom full of that heavenly scent of sweet smelling
lilacs.
After Spud put in the sprinkler system, some mornings Valerie would get up before 5:00
a.m. just as the sun was rising out of the east, and just sit on the back patio watching them all go
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off by themselves. The misters around the white picket fence flowers would spray like it was the
introduction to a great symphony. They'd run ten minutes, then the rain-birds, "chit, chit, chit,"
onto her vegetable gardens. Then they'd shut off, the pop-up finger sprayers would water the
backyard with such gracefulness, it was like watching ballet dancers moving rhythmically to the
music of the birds singing, the roosters crowing, and the geese honking, as they all ran together,
flapping their wings through the pasture. Then there would be five minutes or so of silence from
any sprinkler sounds. Suddenly rain-birds on the top of P.V.C. pipe two feet out of the ground
would start sputtering, spinning and spitting water simultaneously around the parameter of their
spacious front lawn. Then like a full orchestra, this harmonious symphony began as all ten rainbirds sprayed water fifty feet in every direction at the same time. It reminded Valerie of the Walt
Disney movie, "Fantasia."
Operation Outreach was growing fast, like a young child. Every day, something new and
different was happening. The garden project was in full swing getting things ready for spring
planting and all. Every department, every-on going project had tripled in size. Each one was
overwhelming on its own and Valerie was in charge of them all.
Some sweet older ladies had decided they wanted to have a giant bake sale and donate the
proceeds to Operation Outreach. They organized women from all over the valley to bake any
dessert they wanted to. Not everyone it seemed knew the Operation Outreach policies about no
soliciting for freebies. Women were hitting up the store managers all over town for free sugar,
eggs, flour, chocolate chips, name it... The managers were calling the Outreach complaining, so
Denise drafted up a letter to be sent to every business within the Santa Ynez valley under
Valerie's orders. It didn't matter who they were or what their business was. They sent them a
letter. The letter simply stated their organizational policies about no soliciting for free anything.
"We don't have fund raisers," it stated, "or do any soliciting whatsoever."
Operation Outreach merely had a Biblical standard that governed its policies and
procedures and gave everyone purpose to work through together, one common cause with a
variety of tools to work with by using everyone's abilities and gifts to accomplish the goal. It
had to be a neutral location not operated by any certain church. It would be like a catalyst for all
churches.
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A group of ten preachers from other small towns in Santa Barbara county invited Valerie
to a Danish restaurant in Solvang. They wanted to discuss Operation Outreach and how it all
worked so possibly they could begin one in their communities. Valerie had been working in the
gardens at the garden project tilling up some parcels on the tractor when she noticed it was time
for the lunch meeting. She washed her hands at the restaurant because she didn't have time to go
home to get cleaned up. They were shocked. She didn't look like a president or administrator in
her jeans, short sleeved shirt and tennis shoes. They were all dressed up in their suits and ties.
Almost every denomination was represented there. Could this be the moment she had been
waiting for? All of these pastors, together, in one place, with one purpose, to help all of those
needing to experience God’s love. And they were going to do it TOGETHER? God has set two
goals for Operation Outreach at the very beginning of it all: “That the giver and the receiver
would come to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ, and that the Body of Christ would become
united.”
They'd been together in this dining room nearly an hour when a discussion broke out
among these men. They were talking about how rigid rules would have to be structured to
protect
themselves
against the free-loaders that went from church to church for free handouts, and those women that
continue to get pregnant, then expecting someone to come along and support them after they've
caused their own problems by their sinful lifestyle. “Leaky buckets” they called these women.
They talked about the government “Free-loaders” that wouldn't work. Why should they, when
everything was handed to them: the drunks and druggies that would have to be kept out of any
Operation Outreach in their communities because of their sinful lifestyle. Oh yes, and those who
own homes and come for a handout... they would all have to be screened first.
"Excuse me, fellas," Valerie interrupted. "You just don't get it do you? You speak great
swelling words, but their all empty. You're nothing but white washed caskets full of dead man's
bones. How can you judge anyone? You don't know where they've been or why they're in the
situations they're in. If these were the rules God set up for you to get in, you're in bad trouble
from the beginning. You don't have any business in this kind of ministry. How did you ever get
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so vile?" Valerie asked standing to her feet. I’m a busy person and I’m wasting my time here
with the likes of you. She left them to contemplate her words and never heard from them again.
Valerie was packing her suitcases for her trip with Sherri to Des Moines. She had taken
the day off to take care of last minute details with the kids, Roy, and domestic things when she
heard someone knocking at her back door. It was Jim Sallsberry. He was a little irritated and
she didn't blame him one bit, this time, one of the rain-bird sprinklers had gotten stuck that
morning when they went off to water the front yard. It had somehow gotten turned around, and a
twig from the lilac bush next to the sprinkler had lodged itself in the flapper part of the rain-bird.
Mr. and Mrs. Sallsberry weren't in their bedroom at the time a twenty minute stream of water
poured through their bedroom window, and flooded it. Bummer! It seems that if something was
going to go wrong at their place, it went wrong between Jim Sallsberry and Valerie.
Roy was taking a giant step forward and started his first counseling session with their
pastor while Valerie was gone on her trip. Valerie was hoping Roy would begin to be honest
with him self and not just blaming their problem on her. He had some dysfunctional behaviors
of his own. Roy would let his best behavior shine when talking to anyone about their problems.
It basically zeroed down to Valerie getting rid of all her animals, and being more submissive to
her husband in every way, if you know what I mean.
Valerie couldn't seem to find anywhere to hide from her fears and pain. For weeks she
had run to her "Happy trails," and her favorite hiding place in the bathtub with bubbles up to her
chin, and of course, her hilltop place in the country, and yet she couldn't get rid of these
confused, mixed feelings about everything. Feeling trapped like a rat there was no place to hide,
no place to run. Should she suck it all in like a vacuum cleaner, like she had done all of her life?
Or: cry, scream, beat her head into the walls, fall on the floor and kick and yell at the top of her
lungs until she was hoarse. Or, should she break things with the anger she had bottled up for
thirty-eight long years?
Should she throw everything she could get her hands on at the
injustices? Or maybe, she should just slough off the losses: the cruel betrayals, unbearable
loneliness, the pathetic abuse, abandonment, helplessness, intimidation, inferiority, scorn and the
isolation that had become a part of her. These feelings and emotions were buried, lost in another
life, she thought... until Sherri came on the scene with her shovel.
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Sherri and Valerie boarded a United Airlines airplane in L.A. for Des Moines, Iowa.
Valerie brought her good ol' video camera and 35mm. They video taped everything, everywhere
they went. Sherri did nothing willy-nilly. She had film, batteries, paper and pen all ready to go.
As Sherri drove down some old familiar streets in the Hertz Rent-A-Car, Valerie looked
out her car window. The houses were all the same as they were thirty years before. Sherri
pulled the car into a parking lot and stopped. It was right next to a little lake or pond. Suddenly,
it dawned on Valerie what she'd done. "This is Witmer Pond," Valerie hollered, rolling down the
car window to see across the street to be sure. There it was, across the street. THAT HOUSE;
he one where the man named Dan had lived; the man that had raped her thirty years ago when
she was eight years old. Sherri just sat there and stared with her mouth open. She looked
stunned because it was just like Valerie had described it to her.
It was raining so hard and the lightening, thunder and dark sky only added to this
haunting moment. Witmer Pond. "I used to sit right there and fish, Sherri," Valerie said softly,
almost like a child speaking, as she pointed to the same spot she'd wanted so badly to tell her
mother about. Valerie continued, "I'd lay my bike down, thread my hook with a worm or,
crawdad tail, and set my bobbin, then, cast my line into the water. There's all kinds of perch in
there, Sherri. They're beautiful little fish. They glisten all different kinds of colors. There's a lot
of catfish in there, too. I learned that the hard way trying to take one off my hook once. They'll
stick you if you don't look out."
The next morning they went to breakfast and then started off for an incredibly busy day.
Sherri had a map of Des Moines and a four page, legal-tablet-size list of all the places they were
going. She had compiled the list of places and people from what Valerie had told her on the
audio tapes. Sherri had the locations all circled on the map. Madison Elementary School was
their first visit.
Valerie remembered hanging from her heels by her bobby socks on the jungle gym,
drawing a crowd of other five year olds around her while she hung eight feet in the air. Wow,
they thought she was like a circus performer or, just plain stupid. Her big ol' ugly teeth had
pushed her little bitty ones out in the first grade. “Valerie Skiles, how she smiles, her smiles
reaches for miles and miles,” the teacher of the first grade taught the children to sing to her.
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Only it came out as a taunt, and Valerie Jo stopped smiling altogether. The wild stories she told
about her mother being pregnant with twins, and how snakes sometimes came in and out of her
rumpy when she was in bed at night, that always drew a crowd in the girl's bathroom. The
teacher that thumped her on the head in the remedial reading class with her pencil because
Valerie couldn't seem to remember the words in her reader: Dick, Jane, Spot. She remembered
lying on her rug at nap time on the floor listening to the record the teacher was playing for them
while they rested. The song that she liked the best was "The Syncopated Clock." She thought
they were saying, "The Constipated Clock." She tried so hard to understand how a clock could
be constipated, but was afraid to ask anyone about it.
Sherri drove slowly. After a few wrong
turns...Valerie stared at the old house that she once
lived in and loved with Betty and Bob Case. She
knew every board in that old shack; every bush,
every inch of yard. The porch where Bobby and
she used to get into pillow fights was as alive to
her as yesterday; her window next to the lilac
bushes outside, now bigger than ever. She could
almost smell them now. It was as if Betty, Bob,
Bobby and all these precious, precious memories
were a famous person. She wanted to fall to her
knees and kiss the ground they walked on here. “I
have to go in and see the inside once again, Sherri”...
"Sherri, look," Valerie said pointing to Shammerhorns' side property. "There's that old
garage of the Shammerhorns' I told you about where we used to play 'Annie Over,' and hide up
in the rafters and bounce balls against it. It was the catcher for our baseball games. It's still here.
Just like it was." Sherri took a picture. Valerie hadn't seen Betty and Bob's house or this old
garage since she was eight or so.
Holt Sherman Auditorium was pretty heavy on Valerie's memories. The bus stop was
still in the same place where Mom and she got off the bus for her dance recitals when she was
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four or five or so. She began dance lessons when she was three. She even remembered her
name, her dancing teacher, Elizabeth Woolblouskie. She went through a lot of emotional
damage during those years of tap, ballet, acrobat and toe dancing. Mom wanted her to be
another Shirley Temple or something. She didn't make Hollywood, but she did learn how to
perform. That huge stage, back stage, the tiny dressing room; it was all there, in living color.
Since it was still sorta early, and with that too late to start something major, they decided
to go to Bob Hicks and his wife Velma's (Valerie's step-dad). His life seemed to have passed
him by without him being able to grab hold of the real meaningful events and savor them.
Valerie didn't want to be like him, like Mom, and all the others. Just live and die, one minute
you're here, the next minute you're gone. She wanted to glean all the bits and pieces out of her
life, bad and good, let God mix them together and make something beautiful out of it, somehow.
She wanted her life to count for something. She wanted to somehow leave a legacy behind for as
many people as cared to partake of it.
Valerie's mom was like a beautiful wild filly back in her glory days. A man couldn't
tame her, no man could. They all fell in love with this voluptuous woman. Head over heels in
love as she trapped them with her charm, beauty, and soft whispering voice, only when she
wanted something. This woman so starved for love and attention, so needy she was, in every
way to find peace and happiness somewhere in the madness of her stony heart.
Valerie
remembered so vividly in the early days, right after her and Bob married. She must have gotten
pregnant with Debbie right away. At first like all marriages, Bob and Mom embraced in the
wonderland of their new life together: the little house on 36th Street, Mom pregnant and all, her
wanting to be a perfect wife and mother with a perfect family atmosphere. What happened to
their happy dreams they had made together? How could it all have ended up in such a nightmare
of events starting at the 36th Street house? Mom's jealousy because of her insecurities, Bob's
drinking to cope with her nagging and constant accusations. She'd rage completely out of
control, tearing into anything and anyone viciously; everyone in her path. She'd tear down and
apart everything dear to her. All these people, places and moments she so desperately longed
for, she deliberately sabotaged before her very eyes. Everyone revolved around her moods like
walking on glass, in fear, constant fear something would trigger her off.
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Bob was once a very handsome, simple man from North Carolina; a man with a dream; a
dream of a beautiful wife, a little house, a simple job, and a loving, happy family. As Valerie
waved good-bye to Bob that day, her heart grieved inside to think how he'd been robbed. Life
was like a vapor, one minute you see it, the next minute, and it’s gone.
Finally, they arrived, back at the end of the road going to Witmer Pond. Tell me what
happened Valerie, tell me everything! Sherri asked her with a look of compassion Valerie had
never known before. Little Valerie Jo began, "About here, I'd ride my bike and catch polliwogs
in back where the water is shallow. This used to be real foresty back here," she said pointing to
the far, rear of the pond. "It was quiet and safe there in my own little world. Then one day this
man that lived across the street started coming down here and catching polliwogs with me.
Before long he was touching my hair, pigtails, and putting his arm around me. It felt good to be
touched. One day he asked me if I wanted to go get an ice cream cone with him, and then go
berry hunting, what ever that was. Then one day he put both arms around me and held me closer
to him, and kissed me on my mouth... for a long time, like grownups kiss. He put his hand inside
my pants and touching me there... Every day he promised he would buy me some ice cream.
The next day he didn't show up... but the following day he brought his car around to the back
side of the pond, right over there, “Valerie said, pointing to the exact spot. "He drove into a
country place and we got out of the car with two buckets. I asked him questions but he wouldn’t
speak to me. I was afraid he was mad at me or something, and I was thinking, and thinking what
I might have done to make him be mad at me.”
“There were mosquitoes everywhere. They were biting my arms and face. He started
taking off my jeans and panties... His body was so heavy, and the mosquitoes were biting my
face and arms. He just kept pushing his thing between my legs harder and harder... When the
man was finished with me he got up, and stood to his feet, and looked down at me real mad
like… like he was mad at me or something. 'Get up and put your jeans on,' he yelled at me.
Then his face changed when he looked at me this certain one way, and He started crying. I got
up real fast then, and when I did, blood came down my legs on the inside. I was afraid that it
would get on his mother's sheet that he had brought with him, and it did... it got on her sheets.
No wonder he was crying, it was all my fault. I pulled my panties up, and my jeans. He was
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already walking down the path to the car." Valerie Jo was breathless when she finished telling
Sherri all of this. She waited for some kind of affirming word to tell her that she was okay...
Sherri was crying. "Why aren't you crying, Valerie? You haven't cried over any of this. You're
like a mannequin."
The leaves rustling in the big oak trees that made up the small forest around her at the
back of Witmer Pond. She was emotionally drained and Sherri was worn to a frazzle. They got
back into the car and tried to lighten up the moment as they drove slowly down the street to
Byron Rice Elementary. Valerie had gone there when she lived in the house on 36th Street. The
school was in session. At each place they had stopped to take pictures and ask questions.
Staring at the school,
Valerie still remembered the
exact spot she was standing
when the girls that she'd
invited to her birthday came
up to her with three other
girls. They had asked to see
her bandaged up right hand,
the hand that was so badly cut
when her step-father, Bob,
slapped her in front of the
girls and knocked her to the floor because she'd broken a plate. She remembered the deep cut
throbbing even harder in pain as they laughed at her and said she had crazy parents, and then
skipped away laughing. She still could hear the ghostly echo of their laughter.
From Byron Rice Elementary they drove on down the street to Beaverdale. Valerie used
to walk there after school sometimes, and if she had fifteen cents, she'd buy herself a "Black
Joe." That's a chocolate ice cream with marshmallow topping. "I could work a yoyo better than
any boy," Valerie said. "That's where I got the fifteen cents for the 'Black Joe.' I did 'Around the
World' and 'Walk the Dog' better and longer than anyone else on a bet... a fifteen cent bet." The
booths are exactly the same as thirty years before. The one cent bubble gum machine still held
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the back door open. The 'Black Joe' still tasted the same. Sherri had bought Valerie Jo her ice
cream...
Next, they headed for the house on 36th Street. Sherri pulled up in front of 2833 36th
Street. "No, this isn't the house," Valerie insisted. They (someone) had built it up, and had made
it into a two story house. It had been painted, shrubs planted and trees in the front yard. The
lady there invited them in. As they stood in the living room, Valerie had a real hard time
believing she had ever lived there. They had changed her room so much, she hardly recognized
it. She wanted to ask the lady if her and her husband fought a lot, and if her children were
withdrawn and unhappy. Did her husband drink and beat her and the kids? Very familiar spirits
were still there after all those years. The kitchen had truck loads of bad memories, almost as
many as the bedrooms.
"Remember me telling you about Bob and Mom butchering my pet ducks, and right here
they had me help clean them?" Valerie recalled. Actually, they made her do it. And there was
the basement door. The basement was the scariest place of all. Inside, the child within was
horrified as she remembered it; the spankings, the blackened eyes, bloody noses, busted lips
and... other things.
As they drove down the streets of Des Moines, Valerie was reminded of so many things
about the old town that she'd long forgotten. "Stop Sherri, look!" Valerie yelled, "There’s my
old grade school, Elmwood! This means QT Nursery isn't too far away." Suddenly, Valerie
spotted the two story skinny old house. They walked around the side of the house and there still
was a play yard that only Gladys and Viola (the sisters that had the nursery) would have put
together. They never married. After thirty years, "Gladys, it's me, Valerie Jo Hicks. Do you
remember me?" Valerie asked. "Why Valerie Jo, oh my, it's really you, dear."
After introductory conversation, Sherri asked, "What do you remember about Valerie as a
child?" "Well, she was a real sweet little girl, so helpful and eager to please. Sometimes, I felt
guilty taking money to have her come here. She helped me out tremendously with the smaller
children, playing with them and all. I could tell she was embarrassed about having to come here.
After all, she was eight or nine years old, around all these babies, so I just let her know all the
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time what a great helper she was to Viola and me, and I gave her special privileges the others
didn't get. I think that helped her in having to come here."
"What about her personality, what kind of person do you think she was?" Sherri asked.
"Well... I told you, helpful. Now, she was shy and not a happy child at all, if that's what you
mean. It was as if she were carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, and at such a
young age. She'd seem okay and relaxed until evening got nearer, and then she'd get this look
about her. Worry, sadness? I can't describe it really... Fear?"
"Remember the time I came here after you let me go to a friend's house and I had hickeys
all over my neck?" Valerie asked her laughing. "That wasn't funny," she replied. "Your mother
threw a fit. She threatened to sue Viola and me because of that. Worse than that, we knew you
got in real bad trouble. You acted much worse after that day. It wasn't long after that, that we
never saw you again," she said. They all had a nice visit.
They still had to go to Lincoln Junior High, Casady Hall, the house on Holcomb, and the
old Rock Island Railroad Station. The minute Valerie saw that old Rock Island Railroad sign she
sickened inside, and her mind played tricks on her. Sherri pulled the car up near the sidewalk
where the old ticket office was still standing, and the moment the car door opened little six year
old Valerie Jo, like a phantom from the past, jumped out of the car; pigtails bouncing as she ran
straight through the invisible crowd of people that were waiting to board the train. "All aboard,"
she could hear the black conductor yell. Wooden suitcases in hands, people crowded to the
three-step, steel ladder the conductor placed outside the train’s passenger door; the smell of the
steam engines blowing its vapors across the brick walkways; the laughter of little children
chasing one another around their mother's skirts as she scolded them to behave and get in line.
"Hi, Valerie Jo," she could almost see the old black conductor spot her running towards where
her mommy worked. He spotted her through the crowd of people. Little Valerie Jo, he saw her
in the crowd. Waving... she could see his pearly white teeth against his dark brown skin, so
happy to see her, waving just to her. She stopped, jumped up and down enthusiastically to try to
see him over, and between the people, and yelled waving and jumping, "Hello, Mr. Conductor,
hello," then off she'd run over the brick walkway toward the door that went to where her mother
worked. Now, Rock Island Railroad was only a “ghost depot.” The old brick buildings were just
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the same as before, except its windows were broken and all of the people were gone. The tracks
were strong and solid as ever, but only old newspapers and gum wrappers blew across where
people once walked. How could it be? There was such a shell of emptiness, but the long
forgotten memories were as alive as if it were yesterday. She could feel little Valerie Jo longing
to take her by the hand and pull her with all her might towards that door that went to where her
mommy worked, but Valerie didn't want to go. This was all too weird, to haunting...... The rest
of the time there seemed more like something out of a horror movie...........................
As they drove away, Valerie numbly said, "There's where Mom and I used to walk when
I was real little, about five years old. I used to hold her hand. The men would whistle at her, and
her high heels went “click”, “click”, “click”, to a rhythm I could have danced to. Her perfume
was so lovely; the breeze was so pleasant at night. It blew the smell of her right into my face as I
proudly walked beside her, as if she were a movie star. It was after dark and I wasn't afraid as
long as she was holding my hand. She was so beautiful... and she was holding my hand." She
felt the tears well up inside her soul, like a raging river,
but... she quickly dammed it up and changed the subject.
Valerie recalls passing near Des Moines River
Bridge in her constant search for Richard's house. She had
always used landmarks, and this bridge was one of them.
Back then, she couldn't read street signs and would walk
out of the school building door and forget which direction
she should walk to go home. Valerie and Sherri drove past
the bridge and were following the railroad tracks to find
Richard's house. It had to be around here some where. She
recognized some of the little wooden dilapidated houses.
Sherri pulled the car over to the curb and asked a Mexican
man about Richard, Manuel, and Marie Hernandez, and
their mom and dad. They had moved away years ago.
Valerie called the number she had.
Marie
answered the phone. Manuel had been killed nearly ten years ago in a traffic accident. Richard's
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dad had died soon after. Richard was married with three children; all of them nearly grown now,
and his kidneys were failing him. He'd been really ill. He still worked construction work, and
then Valerie heard someone talking fast and aggressive in Spanish in the background. Marie put
her hand over the phone. Valerie heard muffled arguing, and then a different voice got on the
line. It was Richard's mother. They had always liked Valerie, but now, "Why are you calling
us? You're a trouble maker, leave our family alone! Richard isn't well and his marriage is
already having problems. Leave him alone! Do you hear me? You got us into bad trouble many
years ago with your mother, so don't you dare come back here causing trouble." "But... but...
Mrs. Hernandez, I'm not trying... please let me explain..." Click. She hung up. What had Mom
done back then?
Sherri drove straight to Lincoln Junior High. Valerie remembers being so gullible back
then. There was this helpless, inferior, lonely, inadequate, foolish little girl that was once her.
They went into the school office to ask permission to video tape and take pictures of her
classrooms, locker, cafeteria and all. She was absolutely shocked that she could find everything,
even her locker. She could never find her locker for the first three months of school.
Valerie wanted to show Sherri the indoor swimming pool. She remembered it so well.
Her step-dad, Bob, made her memorize hard words off a record he had gotten at the school
where he taught English; hard words… big, hard words. Valerie faked it, somehow. The reward
for all of this was a bathing suit she'd wanted so badly. She'd seen it in a Spiegel catalog.
The real reason for swim classes were for all the girls to let the teacher know they were
having their menstrual period again, and couldn't swim so they could get in their swimsuits, sit
around the pool with their feet in the water kicking gracefully “splash, splash”, and giggle, and
gossip, and look pretty. Only the weird-o's swam. Those unpopular girls the boys wouldn't look
at anyway. At least that's what she heard one girl say to the others in class one day, about her.
Valerie always admired the ones that could swim and dive off the high dive, even if the
pretty girls made fun of them. She couldn't swim and wasn't popular, but she was sure that her
new multi-colored swimsuit would draw some attention and possible win her a friend. She'll
never forget the day she put it on. She looked just like "Olive Oyl." What a laugh! What was
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worse, one of the real popular, hour glass figured, long eyelash battin', straight white teeth
smilin', social butterflies in her class... got one just like it.
Valerie did make one dear friend at Lincoln. Her name was Lynn. Her family was so
poor, she didn't even have the things she needed, like sanitary napkins or shoes without holes.
Valerie would share her lunch with her until one day she didn't come back to school anymore.
She'd gotten pregnant by someone, at 12 or 13 years old. That seemed awfully young, didn’t it?
Sherri took a picture of her at the side
entrance of Lincoln Junior High. That was the
only door Valerie was allowed to come in and
out of because Casady Hall Home for
Wayward Girls. It was a block up the street.
She was very lonely back then, because
everyone knew she was in that girl's home, so
she didn't have a chance to find acceptance in
the school. She was labeled "Bad Girl." They
drove slowly up the side road that led to
Casady Hall. The white building and the big
three story white main house had been torn
down long ago. Valerie had wanted to show
Sherri which window she had jumped out of.
The last place they went that day was
the house on Holcomb Street where she lived
with Mom, Bob and Debbie when she was ten and eleven years old. This house was up on a hill.
She liked to work herself halfway down the hill-side at the back of the back yard so she couldn't
be seen. Then she'd lean back against the cool dirt and look up at the black sky and all the stars.
Sometimes she would have her portable radio with her and she would wait, and wait for her
favorite songs to come on, “Thyme From A Summer Place”, and “Will You Still Love Me
Tomorrow”. While she was laying there she many times remembered her mom and Bob in the
house, in the late evening, there was so much drinking and violence, screaming and yelling.
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At the first junior high, she began wearing bobby socks to school, in her bra, and Mom's
tight sweaters. She listened to her new love day and night: Rock and Roll music, and had her
first exposure to dancing. She definitely had the rhythm. She knew she was changing from a
little girl to this a young woman. The reason she knew this was because the boys were flirting
with her all of a sudden, it seemed.
Valerie dreaded for Sherri and her to go back to Rock Island Railroad that morning, the
pain of all the memories of Mom and her. All the memories were being released like moths
being let out of a glass jar, fluttering around in those empty rooms at Rock Island Railroad
Depot. Rooms that once were alive with activity. Everyone was gone now. Mr. Jones, Marian,
the old black conductor, and... her mom.
Mom's white haired, white mustached, tall, skinny boss, Mr. Jones, would be sitting at his
desk in the corner by the window; pencil above his ear, his thick wire rimmed glasses slid down
on the top of his nose while he typed with his two pointer fingers on an old square, black steel
typewriter that had flat big round keys. Marian ran around the office with her switchboard
headset on her head all the time. She'd push the wire microphone aside that was always right in
front of her mouth so she could kiss
Valerie Jo on the cheek when she
was little.
Her mom's long, slender
fingers would move so fast on the
teletype machines, all you could see
was a blur of red fingernail polish
streaking up and down as her
fingers
danced
over
the
keys
gracefully. Sometimes, Valerie Jo
had been watching her too long
while she was typing and her mom would get nervous. She'd stop typing and snap at her to go
play, or she couldn't come down to the railroad anymore while she was working.
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Sherri took picture after picture of every place Valerie told her about. “I have a picture of
that very window that was in mom’s pictures I got after she died, Sherri. Here take a picture of
this window with the square panes. You can see the Methodist Church steeple across the down
town Des Moines buildings; see, right there” And Sherri snapped the picture.
Downstairs there was the ladies rest room behind the big green door. Valerie Jo would
climb up on the white china sink, with the silver faucet handles that looked like a hand with
stubby fingers spread out flat, and she'd make faces at herself in the big tarnished old mirror
hanging on the wall. That was good for at least five minutes of time. The round glass bulb soap
dispenser that hung on the wall was always full of the prettiest pink liquid soap. It looked good
enough to eat, but it smelled awful. Mom said it was special soap to get the ink off her hands
when she washed them with it. She'd twirl the glass bulb and watch the soap inside like pink
pearly honey. Yumm, that made her hungry, so... she'd flush all the toilets on her way out and
skip on out of the bathroom; pull the door to the outside entrance with all her might to go to the
outside where the brick sidewalk was, and on down just a little ways were all the people waiting
to get on the train.
She knew everyone that worked there. She'd climb up on the old swivel bar stool at the
lunch counter and sit there hoping her black conductor friend would see her and buy her a
cherry-coke like he did every chance he had. She'd twirl around on the bar stool round and
around until a man told her one time she'd unscrew it and go twirling across the room in the air
like a flying saucer.
One time Mom and she were eating a salad at the lunch counter at Rock Island when
suddenly Mom got real upset. She had a worm on her lettuce. Boy, was she mad! From then
on, it was tuna fish sandwiches.
Soon it would get dark and that would mean her mom would be getting off work. She
could almost hear her calling her, like an echo in that big empty room, "Come on Valerie Jo, it's
time to go home, now," then she'd go back to Betty and Bob's the rest of the week until Saturday
came again. “Oh Mommy, I loved you with all of my heart and liver and gizzard.” Valerie
whispered softly, looking out of the car window as Sherri drove down the street for the last time,
where they had walked together, her mother and little Valerie Jo... “click”, click”, “click”.
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It was still early morning when Sherri and Valerie drove away from Rock Island
Railroad. Des Moines was unlike most big cities that now have the majority of their dress shops
and such at modern shopping malls; the downtown area there was still very busy and congested
with open businesses and happy shoppers at every cross walk. One hundred year old brick
multi-level buildings still lined the narrow streets. They headed for Des Moines Cemetery,
where everyone was buried; Grandma and Grandpa Case, Gram, Mom's brother Dick. Anyone
that was anyone in Valerie's life was there somewhere among those tombs.
On the way to Betty and Bob's house in Ames, Iowa, they passed acres and acres of
barren countryside. Valerie had never seen anything like it. There had always been cornfields.
Now, all the farmland had been abandoned. Farm houses were vacant. Yet this country with its
old barns that she loved so dearly was still her favorite place in all the world.
They arrived at Betty and Bob's. Betty
looked beautiful. Uncle Bob looked awful. He
was gaunt, and his skin was kinda gray looking.
He had dark circles around his eyes. Betty said
he was dying of prostate cancer. Uncle Bob sat
in his recliner chair, Betty sat on the couch, and
Sherri and Valerie sat on the floor in front of the
couch with boxes of old black and white pictures
dumped out on the floor.
Valerie heard Betty tell Sherri, "Yes, we
sure did miss that money Dorothy was paying us
to take care of Valerie Jo. Things were hard back then..." Valerie must have misunderstood. A
lump welled up in her throat. "When did she start paying you?" Valerie asked. "Oh, she always
paid us. We wouldn't have made ends meet if it weren't for that money we got," she said
smiling. Heartsick! All these years Valerie thought they had her live with them because they
loved and wanted her. She wanted to leave. Oblivious to any more conversation and feeling the
hurt, Valerie needed to get out of there. But Sherri continued to ask Betty what she thought
about Valerie's childhood and their relationship with her. "Bob and I wanted to adopt Valerie Jo,
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but Dorothy wouldn't let us. She started to once, but changed her mind. We would have loved
to have had Valerie Jo for our daughter. She was such a special little girl," Betty replied.
Valerie had just heard the most beautiful words that she had ever heard to that point in her life.
The Des Moines trip was over and Valerie
was back home, mentally and physically exhausted.
There was a war going on within her self with three
personalities battling. There was this uncultured
little child of about eight years old emotionally that
was underdeveloped and dysfunctional. There was
this protector adult woman wanting to bury the
past, pretending to be normal, but faking her way
through, hiding in front of the pain of yesterday. Then there was Valerie. It was like having to
deal with excessive baggage. She was so confused. There was so much wrong with her
personality and her attitude was beginning to stink.
The battle was on. The adult woman would say something like this to the little Valerie
Jo, "Okay, you can come out when I tell you, but don't you dare embarrass me. Don't cry, don't
throw any of your immature fits. I don't care who did what to you, or what your needs for love
and acceptance are. Keep yourself in control." All while this battle was raging, Valerie was,
simultaneously, beginning to realize her real purpose in life through the fulfillment she found in
her work at helping hurting people at Operation Outreach.
The community garden was doing great. It was in its second productive year. The
ground had been fed well with John Rodwell's mushroom compost and all the tons of manure
from different places that had been donated. All the parcels had been occupied; seventeen of
them in all. The fruit trees on the terrace behind the gardens were flourishing. Berries and
grapes would be in abundance by the next year. The garden was actually feeding all of the Santa
Ynez poor, plus being distributed on Wednesday, distribution day. They sold a lot of the
produce at the veggie stand on Tuesday and Saturday, and still had produce to take to the senior
centers in town.
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Valerie started another ministry under Operation Outreach called "Adopt-A-Shut-In
Program." These old people were just sitting around waiting to die, wasting their valuable,
precious knowledge and wisdom from their many years of living. A person or family would
adopt a shut-in elderly person for a three month commitment. They were required to visit them
at least twice a week.
They could help with housework, laundry, checkbook balancing,
insurance forms or bill paying, grocery shopping, doctor visits, or just talking or listening;
whatever was needed.
An elderly lady, an invalid in a wheelchair, named Billie Bailey, volunteered to take the
news articles about Operation Outreach cut them out of the paper, and file them for
documentation. Another precious lady, named Clela Magowen, would write the sweetest short
thank you letter for a donors receipt for each month. There was a volunteer in charge of birthday
card sending. Everyone got a birthday card. 10, 20, 30 people would sign the cards.
"A lady called here yesterday. She was from an organization in Santa Barbara. She
called to talk to one of your family members," said Sherri. "I went ahead and took the message.
She said you weren't supposed to find out this..." "Come on Sherri... get to the point," Valerie
barked. "Okay, okay, the lady said you've been nominated for “Mother of the Year” for all of
Santa Barbara county. A special banquet is being given." "Tell you what, Sherri," Valerie said,
turning away from the window to face her still sitting at the table waiting for her response. "Go
to each one of my family privately and tell each one what you told me. Watch their response and
you'll have your answer."
So she did just what Valerie asked. Each one cared less. When Sherri told Roy, he
snickered as if it were a joke. Sherri called the lady back and told her thank you, Valerie was
honored to be considered, but no thank you... she declined.
Roy's businesses were in serious trouble. The secretary had made a multi-thousand dollar
error on his books, and the I.R.S. was closing in. It manifested through his attitude and eating
habits. He consumed more sugar than Valerie had even seen a human being eat; sugar and milk.
He and Michael drank two gallons of homogenized milk a day. All that fat, all the sugar from
Oreo cookies, bear claw pastries, Ding Dongs, Twinkies, donuts. If they could only have,
instead, shared their feelings and what they were going through.
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Michael, thirteen, and Rebecca, twelve, fought a lot. Roy would mock, criticize, or seize
control of every competitive opportunity he had, it was a real humiliating experience. Tension
was high, even when everyone was smiling and pretending........
Rebecca decided to do something special for her dad and wash his truck. Valerie was in
the yard with a helper. Rebecca had been working hard on washing Roy's truck, to surprise him,
for almost an hour. When Roy came out of the house, he took one look at Rebecca washing his
truck and burst out the most cutting, awful words. Rebecca was devastated. Roy was upset.
Rebecca was using a scouring pad on his new paint job. Valerie felt so sorry for her as she stood
there with the soap dripping off her hands, looking up at Roy's red face and bulging veins in his
neck as he spewed his frustration and fury out on her. Rebecca hardly ever cried, but this time
tears welled up in her eyes.
One day, Roy came into the kitchen, where Valerie was, holding a phone bill. "Look at
these long distant phone calls on here," he said. "$107.00 worth of calls made from that upstairs
phone." Valerie was pretty hot. She called the kids down. She didn't want any lies. Still she got
the same old shrugged shoulders, and that innocent, eyelash blinking look in each face. Valerie
called the phone company and asked to be connected with the head supervisor. The next day, the
supervisor called her back. She was stunned when she was told the phone calls made and
received from that one telephone were to and from pornography hot line numbers.
The
telephone where these calls were being made was upstairs in one of the three bedrooms. There
was no other line to that phone, just the one in Rebecca's room. Valerie was even more stunned
when she realized that the calls were being made while the kids were in school and while she
was there at home alone. Someone direct dialed from that phone. Roy refused to believe there
might be demons in the house.......
Michael had told Valerie a few nights before; he was awakened by something tugging at
his covers at the foot of his bed. He opened his eyes and there was this beautiful woman. She
had long golden blond hair and a white, flowing, long nightgown on. It had long flowing
sleeves. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life. Then she disappeared. He
said he wasn't scared. He said it was an angel. Valerie knew the difference......
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After being in Des Moines again, and stirring up so much stuff, when Valerie got home,
the things her step-sister, Debbie had sent her of Mom's seemed to haunt her with a real uneasy
feeling... She couldn’t believe what Debbie had packed them in; especially the album; the album
that Valerie should have burned long ago when Debbie first sent it to her. Remember the album
of those pornography pictures of Mom? She had been keeping it, hoping that someone would
believe and understand what kind of influence she had in her life as a child. Maybe they could
explain to her what happened to her mother to make her this way. There was still so much she
couldn't seem to piece together.
This album was hideous.
The last page showed Mom's
contempt for people, and why was there a lock of her hair in the album on that last page, the page
where she looked so evil, her thumbs in her ears, her tongue sticking out and her four fingers
pointing upward?
Shirley came over that day. They walked out to the pasture together with the album.
Valerie carried a few newspapers along to start the fire and some wooden matches. She wadded
up three or four papers and placed them on the bottom of the fifty gallon steel drum sitting in the
pasture. She laid the thick cloth-bound album on top of the papers and lit a match, cursing Satan
and all his demon spirits for all they'd robbed her mother and her of all their lives. She threw the
match in the barrel. The moment the match hit the album, there was an explosion so great it
knocked Valerie’s 285 pound body backwards onto her back, up in the air and down. Sherri was
just coming down the driveway when Valerie was picking herself up off the ground. Shirley and
Valerie could hardly believe what had happened...
Now their ready to leave for their trip to Lubbock. Valerie sure needed Roy's support. If
he could just believe in her just a little, she would have soared like an eagle to whatever it was
that she was looking for. "Good-bye honey," Valerie whispered, "I'm leaving now." Roy rolled
over all sleepy eyed and said, "Okay, call me when you get there. I hope you find whatever
you've been looking for. Be careful." Her heart was crying for comfort somewhere, even a hug
from Roy. She dreaded this trip so much.
As they buckled their seat belts on the flight, Valerie's mind was racing forward, way
ahead of them to Lubbock, Texas. What had happened to one of her junior high friends, Janice
Chancey? Janice had married when she was fourteen. Janice married a boy, named Leroy, that
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beat her constantly and kept her barefoot and
pregnant every year, until she finally made her
escape at age seventeen, three children later.
She worked in cafes waiting on tables for thirtyfive cents an hour, and would go from job to job
while her babies were in her car in the alley.
Janice was raped by Leroy several times after
she'd left him. She was left beaten, broken, and
pregnant again. By the time she was officially a
legal, adult she was the mother of five. Valerie
wondered if she had survived. Someone who
cares, she thought. "Harlan, Harlan Womack,
Sherri. We've got to find Harlan," Valerie said.
"I really believe Harlan loved me when I was a young girl. I was so confused and vulnerable to
anything and anyone, searching for love in all the wrong places. Harlan had many opportunities
to take advantage of me, but he never would."
Valerie had three life changing experiences in Lubbock; her early teens living with Mae,
Pa and Dad, the three years married with Jimmy Fields and two children (Jay and Tanya) and her
husband, Owen and their new baby, Michelle.
Sherri rented a car and headed for her Grandmother Mae's house. Mae was 82 now. She
used to work all day at Dunlap's Department Store as an alteration lady sewing for the rich
public, come home so exhausted she could drop in her tracks any minute. Feet swollen over her
shoes, back all slumped over from the osteoporosis in her spine (she didn't even know she had).
She'd cook Pa, Dad and Valerie dinner, do the dishes, then drag out the ironing board and iron
Pa's boxer shorts and all the towels, wash cloths and sheets. Day after day, from the time she
woke up till late into the night, she'd clean, cook and sew. Dad would come in, in a drunken
stupor in the middle of the night and puke all over the sheets on his bed she'd just ironed. Pa's
cigarette ashes in all the cuffs in his pants would send her into orbit. She just kept on going.
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Valerie hadn't known this delicate flower of a woman but a few short years of her lifetime, but
she was deeply admired by her in so many ways.
She dreaded the walk down the hallway to view that wooden, four-poster bed in the
bedroom on the left. She hated that bed. This house did not have good memories. She felt so
guilty, so ashamed. If her grandmother ever found out what Pa had done to her... she must
NEVER know.
Sherri and Valerie left Mae's en route with a list of places to go and people to see. "Right
down here on the right," Valerie pointed, "was Globe Discount Store." The store was gone, but
the building and huge parking lot was the same. Don, the store manager, was her boss and used
to lock them in the candy vault while he got his favors. He knew that Valerie was trying to
support her children and needed the job desperately; that's when she lived with Mae and Pa for a
short time after leaving Jimmy; that's also when Pa..., "I lost my job there after Don's wife found
out and had a nervous breakdown, right over there," Valerie pointed, "at the bowling alley across
the street."
"Is this the place where you used to steal clothes for Tanya, when she was a baby?"
Sherri asked. "Yes, in the stock room. I'd line the whole inside of my britches with baby
clothes. She had nothing to wear but diapers. Jimmy didn't give me a dime, and Model was
setting me up. She wanted my babies. She had those adoption papers ready to go when I finally
broke under the pressure and shame and gave my babies away to her."
"Then, Harlan. You know, I've never felt loved like that before, since we went steady
that first time. Bless you, Harlan, wherever you are," Valerie said, catching a tear with a kleenex
before it hit her cheek. "Getting pregnant with Jimmy, the jerk, having his baby, having to marry
him, all the beatings and abuse I went through then, the struggle trying to support Jay and Tanya
by myself when I couldn't read. You know, I've never been able to make it on my own, Sherri,
ever since that time. I've been so afraid of being on my own."
They drove the route Pa used to drive her to school. Funny, she remembered it as if she
were actually riding in his old '59 Plymouth down Avenue Q. She wore the nicest clothes to
school, mostly skirts and cardigan sweaters. Her grandmother had charged them where she
worked at Dunlaps. She was the only girl at school that wore panty hose and flats. Her hair
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came to her waist, and hung in light brown ringlets. She hardly ever smiled. She felt sad all the
time. She was so scared; new state, new city, new family, new clothes, new school, new kids,
and new fears. After she'd started at this new school, she had gotten out of Pa's car and was
walking towards the entry doors with her head down, hugging her school books for security
when she was interrupted as she walked up the steps by a young man's voice. "Well, h-e-l-l-o
there, you're the girl everyone's talking about. Wow, what a doll!" She looked up at this stocky,
solid built young man. He was leaning against a pillar with his arms folded and his feet crossed
in front of him. Good grief, this was too embarrassing. He didn't have to say that so loud, she
thought, as she smiled politely, and just kept walking towards the doors. "They're locked," he
said. "Now, you gotta stand here and talk to me...wow, you're beautiful," he said in one breath.
"My name is Harlan Womack. Can I walk you to your class? You need a bodyguard,"
he said laughing. Valerie cracked a smile, sorta. Part of her wanted to run and hide. Part of her
cried with relief.
Someone was coming alongside, taking control, leading the way, and
protecting her, all in one handsome package.
Harlan and Valerie were soon to go steady for only three short months. He treated her
like a queen all during that time. She never felt more important, valued, and respected in all her
entire life as he made her feel that little moment in time that they had together. She sickened
inside when she remembered how she had betrayed him just to ride in Jimmy Fields '56 Ford,
and feel important in front of all the kids. Besides, she'd never once gone on a real legitimate
date, not once, without sneaking out.
One day Pa wasn't there to pick her up, she told Sherri, so she started walking in the
direction that she thought the house was in. The short one-half mile walk took her hours. She
was so scared. No one was home, so she went to her room to change her clothes. She always
shut the door when she undressed. Suddenly, her room door burst open, and Dad stood there
with fire in his drunken eyes. "Where in the hell have you been? Pa's been looking all over for
you and so have I," and with that, he slapped her across the face and pushed her onto her bed.
"You little whore, school was out hours ago, tell me where you've been," he roared. His voice
got louder and louder as he raged out of control. She tried to tell him that she had gotten lost.
"You're just like your mother," he bellowed, and with that he slammed the room door shut. "I'll
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teach you a lesson," he yelled, as he unbuckled his belt. Valerie thought she was going to get a
whipping with his belt, until she looked up at his eyes and the oh so familiar expression on his
face, she’d seen that look on a man’s face before, then she knew and, she panicked inside: not
her daddy too, as she heard the sound of his zipper going down and saw him reach for his erected
penis. She closed her eyes and kicked him, hoping to hit between his legs, like she had heard
once was the thing to do. He yelled. It wasn't a hard enough kick to stop him. Just enough to
make him real mad. He strained with all of his weight to lower his pants past his thighs, and
yet, still keep Valerie in position, with one arm he held her down. She squirmed and kicked and
screamed. He grabbed her panties nearly ripping them off of her. She fought him with every bit
of strength that she had, and him being so drunk was to her advantage. He got on top of her
before she was even completely positioned for his assault; his weight was crushing her, and he
stunk so bad she could hardly breathe; it felt as if he would push her straight through the bed
onto the floor, he was so heavy; all the while telling her what a no good little bitch she was, she
was just like her mother. "I'll give you what you deserve," he kept saying, as he fumbled around
with his enormous weight. He was too fat and awkward to make much progress with her.
Valerie screamed as loud as she could get the breath to scream. When he lifted his left arm to
put his hand over her mouth it threw him off balance and she was able to roll him over somehow,
enough to wiggle away across the bed. Just as she gained strength to get away, he grabbed her
arm. When he did, in sheer desperation she bit his wrist as hard as she could. She could feel her
teeth snap through into his flesh, like biting into a hard apple. He twisted his body around in
pain and grabbed her hair, forcing her to let go of the lock she had on his flesh. She pulled,
twisting and jerked until she was free, leaving a good portion of her hair in his hand. Her skirt
and blouse were torn, her panties were ripped in half, and her face and mouth were covered with
blood. She ran to the front door in terror, sobbing hysterically, trying to open it, just as Pa's old
green Plymouth was coming up the drive... What happened next was tragic for Valerie as well,
nearly as tragic as this assault from her daddy...
Valerie recalls Barbara Ann inviting her to her house after school one day, when Jimmy,
her brother, drove up the driveway in his hot, “Candy Apple Blue” "56" Ford. When she found
out she was pregnant, and after only one date with Jimmy, Dad made her pack up her bags and
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leave before Mae got home from work. She had nowhere to go but Jimmy's parents home. She
had to sleep with Jimmy in his room, even until they got married. She left school in the middle
of March, and married March 23rd, 1961, in her jeans and a sweatshirt. She'd always dreamed of
a beautiful wedding, someday. Everything was done secretly with her pregnant.
After they married, Jimmy told her one evening while they were in his room, before he
demanded sex with her, that she meant nothing to him. All she was, was someone who ruined
his life. He had a bet with his buddies he could get into her britches on a first date. He did, and
it backfired in his face. He said he hated her, because now the girl he really loved and he
wouldn't be able to be together. All she was to him now was a live-in piece of ass, and she better
live up to it. She owed him... BIG TIME. She was trapped!.........
It was Saturday, the third day of their five day trip to Lubbock. They drove down
Avenue Q to some of the older parts of Lubbock, so that Valerie could stimulate some
recollection of those years gone by. Two lifetimes swirled around in her mind at the same time.
Her days with Jimmy, Jay and Tanya, and her life with Owen and their baby girl, Michelle,
intermingled simultaneously in her mind like storm clouds twirling, swirling, preparing for an
outburst of rain. It was a flash flood that she wasn't sure she was strong enough to dam up.
Something had to rescue her from this mental turmoil. "Look, Sherri, there's the place I used to
go-go dance at when Michelle was a baby. I was only 20 years old then. Remember Owen
going to Tucson, and leaving Michelle and me here alone? I was so scared that I'd not be able to
take care of her, and someone would try to take her away from me," Valerie said, as Sherri
pulled into the parking lot of the “Ko-Ko Inn.” "I was desperate. My electricity was supposed to
be shut off and my rent was two months past due. Owen hadn't sent for us, like he'd promised he
would. I didn't have a car, and the KoKo was close to where I lived. I could walk, I tried out for
the job, shaking my rumpy and dancing across the dance floor, for a couple of dirty old men, in a
two piece bathing suit they told me to put on, under a black fluorescent light to the juke box
playing Aretha Franklin's popular song, 'Respect.' To my surprise, I was hired."
They left the KoKo, and decided to just keep on driving around in these familiar
territories while things were hot in Valerie's mind. Suddenly she realized that they were directly
across the street from a duplex that Jimmy and she had lived in when Jay was seven months old.
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It looked exactly the same as it did back then. It was even still painted green. Jay and Valerie
nearly starved to death in that place. Jimmy would be gone for days. Pa came over everyday.
Sometimes he'd bring her a bag of groceries. She knew where they were really from, from Mae.
She never saw her much. She'd been terribly hurt over Valerie leaving like she did when she got
pregnant. Pa told her that he wished she hadn't left. He said Mae told him that she could have
stayed at home. They would have still given her a home. She wouldn't have had to marry
Jimmy after all. They knew her own Dad had tricked her.
Pa and Valerie would sit in the kitchen and talk for hours at the kitchen table. She would
have died of loneliness, if it hadn't been for her precious little Jay and Pa. She had a little
Mexican Chihuahua that looked like a buggy-eyed drowned rat. Goofy little mutt! Every time
you went to pick her up, she'd pee all over the floor. Hum, that was a familiar feeling.
As Valerie and Sherri were leaving the duplex, she pointed across the street to some
baseball bleachers. "That's where I'd go with Jay when Jimmy would beat me. I'd sit on the
bleachers and watch the baseball game, and remember my happy days with Aunt Betty and
Uncle Bob and all those baseball games that we went to."
Back at Mae's house, they were sitting in the living room when a little blond headed boy
ran across Mae's yard and attached a flyer on her mailbox. It was a real simple handwritten flyer,
advertising an Evangelist, Harlan Womack. Valerie screamed, "Mae, Mae, look at this flyer. It's
Harlan. He's a preacher!" They had been searching for some trace of Harlan ever since they
arrived in Lubbock. Mae was nearly crying. Sherri sat there shocked and Valerie kept reading
the flyer over and over, slowly, word for word, to make sure she wasn't making all of this up.
They found Butler Heights Baptist Church, thumbing through the yellow pages. "Hello,"
the voice on the other end said. "Hi, my name is Valerie Scott. I'm visiting from California, and
I'm trying to locate an old friend, Harlan Womack. I'd almost given up finding him until this
little boy put one of your revival flyers on my grandmother's mailbox. Can you tell me how I
can get a hold of him?" Valerie asked. The man put her on hold by holding his hand over the
phone while he talked to someone, then "what's your phone number?" Valerie gave him her
number. No sooner had she opened her mouth to speak and the phone rang. It was Harlan. He
sounded just like he did when they were kids. They talked a few minutes and he invited them to
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church the next day to hear him preach. Harlan had told Valerie where Janice was. He said she
owned a beauty shop on 34th street.
Sherri drove right to the beauty salon. They pulled around to the rear parking lot like
Janice had said on the phone, and waited about five minutes or so. Then here she came, driving
into the lot. Valerie could hardly believe her eyes. She was simply elegant looking, driving a
nearly new yellow Cadillac, with her little white toy poodle in the driver's side window right next
to her, its little rhinestone collar sparkling in the sun. Her golden yellow hair was short and very
neatly styled, same self-assured smile, same slanted eyes. When she opened the car door and
swung her legs outside to get out, Valerie couldn't help but notice her jeweled sandals and
polished toenails. She looked magnificent! Janice had made it out of the cesspool of life. She'd
never remarried after dumping Leroy, once and for all. She said she immediately enrolled into
beauty school and worked two jobs to support her babies, two club jobs. She said it was the only
thing she could do to make any kind of money. Even though she hated the bar scene, it was a
way to survive.
Valerie and Janice talked about the struggles they had when their babies were babies.
"The bar scene just taught us the facts of life, at least it did me, anyway," she continued. "Every
time I'd try to get out of the ten foot water, I'd fall back to the twelve foot," she laughed.
"Why haven't you ever married, Janice?" Valerie asked her. "Are you kidding me, no
one would have me and five kids. I see these married couples, totally content and in love with
each other, everyone needs to have someone. I need somebody to get up in the morning with me
and wish me good day. I tried the club route. I thought to myself, maybe there's someone like
you, Janice, out there in these clubs looking for someone. They were only looking for, one thing.
You know what that was? So, I tried the church route; the club bit was better than the church bit;
I just thought, where do I go? Where do I go? Religion was just words… that’s all it was."
Some of her kids came in the shop. Valerie remembered so well what an excellent mama
she always was. Always joking and kidding around with them. They minded her really well.
Valerie watched as her kids interacted with her like they did, joking, laughing, and still what she
said went, and they loved it. She laughed and said, "Do you know Valerie, we could make all
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these soap operas out there seem boring. There's nothing they have done that could hold a light
to what all has happened to us together."
Sherri drove to the bar where Jimmy had been shot to death. One man there had
remembered the incident and said that the guy who shot Jimmy had pleaded insanity and they
only gave him three years.
They then drove out to the cemetery to find Buddy Holly's grave. The mausoleum where
the twin sisters were entombed was there. When Valerie was fourteen, Jimmy and her and
another couple went to this graveyard late one night. Jimmy told her the story about the sisters,
and said if you stepped up on the mausoleum step, a light would go on inside. Gullible Valerie
believed him. He got out of the car in the pitch dark night with her, while she peeked through
the steel bars into that eerie room with drawers, with dead bodies in them, in the walls. When
she turned around Jimmy was gone. He'd snuck back to the car and they had driven away
laughing, leaving her there in the dark next to this building full of dead people, at night by
herself. Valerie took off running in total panic. The adrenaline surged through her body, she
was in such intense fear. Who was it that was standing there watching her alone here in this
huge cemetery at night? She stopped cold and turned around quickly. It was a statue of an angel
behind her. She started crying so hard with relief. No one knew what kind of life that she'd had
as a child or they wouldn't have played such an inhumane joke. They finally picked her up, still
laughing. They found her walking down the road.
The highlight of this trip would be seeing Harlan. Valerie was so humiliated. Her
physical condition was a disgrace. They arrived at the church that Harlan was to preach at.
About the time church was about to start, this rough looking, potbellied, curly headed, Okie
looking guy in his late thirties came up to Valerie, and said, "You must be Valerie Scott. My
name is Sonny. Harlan got hurt real bad yesterday afternoon, after he talked to you on the
phone. He fell right off the horse he was on, flat onto his back. We took him to the hospital and
they couldn't seem to find any damage, but he can hardly move. He's at his house. We rented a
hospital bed. Maybe you can see him some other time, when you're in town," he said.
After a phone call, Sherri and Valerie headed for Harlan's place. They drove down
through this real rundown neighborhood. They finally pulled up in front of this extremely
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rundown house with coke cans and papers all over the barren lawn. One window was broken,
and the screen door was off its hinge. There was stuff piled all over the side of the house, like a
mini junk yard. The screen door was so filthy, Valerie hesitated before she touched the sticky
door handle to open it and knock.
Valerie stood there a moment while she adjusted her eyes to the dingy living room.
People were sitting all around. Stale cigarette smoke reeked in the place. The smell of poopy
diapers and just plain filth was so heavy; you wanted to hold your breath. Valerie didn't want to
stare at Harlan, especially when everyone in the room was staring at her, giving her the "evil
eye." He was FAT just like her. "Why, Valerie Jo, you're just as beautiful as you ever were,"
Harlan said to her.
After they'd all adjusted to the shock of their initial meeting, Sherri and she were
introduced to the small group of people all around the room. Mostly, the conversation was about
his and Rita's ministry that they'd started called, "Harvest Hour Crusades." Valerie then told
them about Operation Outreach. A few days after returning to Santa Barbara, Valerie received a
letter from Rita. She said that Sunday night of the revival, the men had to carry Harlan's 330
pound body to the van, and then from the van to the front of the church, he still couldn't move.
When the revival meeting began, he stood to his feet, and preached a “Hell, fire and brim-stone”
sermon that shook the entire church.
Although the Outreach was still only a year old, it had grown from birth to a pre-teen it
seemed over night. Valerie had mountains of work when she got back, just waiting for her.
Appointments were backed up, and yet, she made the decision to go camping with her family.
She kept clinging to those things that were hers, all hers, determined she'd never lose anything
precious in her life, ever again! The deeper Sherri and she dug into her hideous past, the faster
she'd run home to Roy and the kids when it was over. They weren't traveling now, but the
memories still clung to her mind like a leech, trying to suck her life away from her.
Sherri radioed Valerie on her car radio. "Base to 107, come in 107." "Yes, 107 to base,"
Valerie replied. "I've got something to show you. Are you coming home pretty quick?" Sherri
asked. "I'm on my way, now," Valerie responded. "Yuck!" Valerie said to herself, as she smiled
and waved at Sherri enthusiastically through her moon roof on the car. Sherri had an envelope in
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her hand. "What's that?" Valerie asked, getting out of the car. "It's from the Lubbock School
District. It's the records they found on you that we asked for, from when you went to school at
O.L. Slaton," Sherri said. "This is exciting, Valerie. Wait till you see what they sent. This
verifies your illiteracy problems, Valerie. Look at those grades: D, D, D, F, D, F. Good grief,
this must have been terribly embarrassing for you when you were a young girl. You know, with
your peers and all." Valerie didn't know what illiteracy meant. Peers? All this was Greek talk,
including her discovery of an aptitude test score that she had been given. "Wow, Valerie, look at
this. You scored high on this aptitude overall which shows and proves you're not a stupid
person," Sherri continued. "Gee thanks," Valerie said, "that's nice to know." "Look Valerie, you
scored high on a lot of these topics, which means you have special gifts and abilities in these
very areas," she said.
"Sherri, no one cared. I remember looking in the faces of the teachers, the adults, and
asking, pleading from deep inside of my heart, 'does anyone care?' Marking arrows on the
school walls to find my classroom, marking my locker door so that I could find it like the other
kids did theirs. I couldn't read the numbers on the locker, how dumb can you get? All the hell I
was going through at home, and all those people everywhere walking past me in the halls and no
one... not one person stopped to notice I was hurting. Sherri, I'm sick of talking about all of
this," Valerie told her. “The memories of all of these things that happened is like doing surgery
on someone without knocking them out first. I’m sliced wide open, and I can feel every move of
the scalpel.” "But look Valerie, what God did with all of that destruction. Look, God's made
something beautiful out of all those ashes. You can identify with so many areas of suffering"
Sherri responded.
The August phone bill for that upstairs phone had come in the mail. How could anyone
explain this one away? Perhaps Roy would stand up and take notice, now. No phone, no jack in
the wall, no extensions anywhere in the house, and a $168.00 phone bill. There was a spook in
the house all right, and it was up in that room again. The same room where Michelle had been
tormented and the same room the Spikers from Mexico had slept in. What was the deal about
that room? At long last, Roy would have no argument with her. The questionable movies and
music would have to go! No more would he allow the kids to back talk or question her authority.
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She could visualize him standing firm with her, and declaring assertively, "Don't you kids talk to
your mother like that."
Valerie called the phone company again to see if they picked up anything on a tracer, but
all they indicated to her was, without question, that the calls were being given and received by
that phantom phone. When Roy came home, he indifferently responded, "Have the phone
company disconnect the line." Demons in their house were as hard for Roy to believe as Santa
Claus or the Easter Bunny. It was all a figment of her imagination, as usual.
Without Roy's cooperation, Valerie began searching for answers on her own. Valerie
knew this spirit visiting her son Michael at night. She knew it well... A study on the spirit of
Jezebel revealed that she was a spirit that manifested as a beautiful woman, appearing to men
and boys of puberty age in the night, arousing them sexually. Many times, as they entertained
this beautiful fantasy, they would even be seduced by her. This supremely beautiful, long blond
haired, white gowned, sex-pot that had appeared in her 13 year old son's room… had to leave!
Roy had been on Valerie's case AGAIN, before she left for Des Moines, about putting
more into their sex life. He even had a counseling appointment with their pastor, Greg Meeks,
while Valerie was gone. Since his meeting things had dramatically changed, but not for the
better. Valerie didn't know what Greg told him, Roy wouldn't talk to her about it. Suddenly he
had just almost stopped wanting her at all. She never dreamed two people could live in one
house and be such strangers, and yet she knew they loved each other. Roy wouldn't talk to her.
She wished many times she could just smack him across the back of the head with a 2x4, and
say, "Wake up, you're approaching this whole thing wrong. You're on the wrong road, going to
nowhere."
The negative force within the house was subtly growing worse each day. Rebecca
withdrew more and more into her room. Michael performed more and more, carrying the
family's pain, plus his own struggles to, one day, gain his dad's approval. And Valerie retreated
into her private space in the bathroom with her small stereo tape player, TV set, phone, and
pillow on the floor leaned against the tub wall. Here she felt safe, a sense of belonging, alone,
within her own world.
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One of Operation Outreach's policies was to provide referral information and assistance
to already existing organizations. Valerie had been invited to meet the new C.A.C. (Community
Action Commission) Supervisor. She'd been to the C.A.C. office before. Clothes were piled on
the floor in the corner of the room for those needy ones to rummage through. A fifteen year old
refrigerator sat in the opposite end of the small room, with five pound blocks of government
issued cheese and a few quart cartons of out-dated chocolate milk. They were over-worked,
under-staffed, and under-paid, to say the least.
Valerie was thinking on her way over to the C.A.C. office, that administrator to
administrator, they could lick this poverty problem as they linked together with one common
cause. She walked through the C.A.C. office door, and couldn't believe her eyes. There was
Frank, the new C.A.C. boss, that obnoxious vacuum cleaner salesman, the one that was scared to
death of their dogs; Ginger and especially, Josh. You know, the chicken, coward, bellyachin'
cry-baby that she had sworn that she'd never buy another Electrolux vacuum cleaner from. This
was the man she would be linking up with to fight for the cause of justice and poverty? She
remembered what a coward he was. Yes, this was Frank, but he was different now. They looked
at each other and burst into laughter. This belligerent, quarrelsome man that couldn't have
fought his way through a wet paper bag, was roaring with laughter alongside Valerie. How
things had changed. He never did like selling vacuum cleaners. C.A.C. hardly had anyone
coming to them for help since Operation Outreach had been open, so Frank offered anything they
needed or wanted, allowed by the government, within his power to give. Operation Outreach
harvested truck loads of produce and shared with C.A.C., convalescent homes, senior centers and
other need-oriented organizations.
Frank even went with Valerie a few times with their gleaning supervisor, Phyllis. A crew
leader would take a group of three or more to Lompoc and they'd pick Jay Fisher's fields of:
cabbage, cauliflower, broccoli, celery, spinach and such. Apricots, peaches, plums and pears,
apples and corn, pumpkins, and all the extra garden vegetables individual gardeners couldn't use,
they gave to Operation Outreach. There was so much food; they ran out of places to store it. It
had to be distributed.
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Jim Christensen and his wife Donna built their model home, "a work of art," as only Jim
could do. Many articles were done about this house in magazine and newspaper writings. It’s
Spanish architecture, complete with walls stuccoed with a pine needle mixture to give it an adobe
look, made it unique. But what made it really unique were the thirty photovoltaic cell panels of
space-age solar equipment that powered thirty Delco storage batteries, from which the houses'
entire electrical needs were drawn. Massive timbers had been taken from a copper mine in
Montana. Natural gas was available for cooking and for heating, should that become necessary.
It was totally self-sufficient. Huge beams were trucked from all parts of the country, both from
all over the United States, and Mexico, and even Spain.
About this time, Valerie receives another one of her incredible visions from God. In her
spirit, God said, "Valerie, I want you to declare war on abortion in this community." She saw
Jim Christensen's house in this vision, only he and his family weren't in it. Bobby and Sandi
Neustadt were, and it was a home for unwed mothers. "The Sunflower House," was its name.
Donna Miller was involved in all of this, somewhere. (Her husband had put in Valerie's
sprinkler system).
Shortly afterwards, they formed a board of directors, incorporated, and "The Alternative"
was born, right next door to the Operation Outreach office. The center was in business, offering
free pregnancy tests, counseling and referrals. The Santa Ynez Valley News did a real nice
article. Sandi was secretary and treasurer of the board of directors. Six para-professional
counselors were on the all volunteer staff. Donna Miller was the registered nurse, trained in
psychiatric nursing. A valley physician donated his time to work with them. All services were
free of charge. The center did not use scare tactics to dissuade a client from having an abortion.
Roy had drastically changed, since his appointment with Greg Meeks, their pastor. He
had stopped, nearly completely, wanting Valerie sexually.
Sex, or lack of it, seemed to
determine everything between Roy and her. Without it, their marriage was dying fast. Their life
together went on, but not like it had always been before.
Valerie made an appointment with a female doctor, to see if she could help her figure out
why she had no sex drive... at all! The doctor gave her a quickie pelvic exam, and during the
exam, while she was probing around in there, she said to the nurse taking notes, to write in
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Valerie's chart, "her ovaries are fine, cervix is in correct position. Yep, everything checks out
great," she said, snapping off her latex rubber gloves, and throwing them in the trash and leaving.
Valerie got up from the examining table, got dressed, and then the doctor came back into the
room. "You're fine. I have no idea why you have no sex drive. Your female organs are
all healthy and normal, and everything checks out fine, except you need to lose a bunch of
weight," and she handed her the bill for $175.00. "Excuse me, I really don't think I want to pay
this bill," Valerie said timidly. "What do you mean?" she asked with her hands on her hips,
disgustedly as she turned to walk out. "I had a hysterectomy twelve years ago. How could you
say everything inside is fine? You're just in too big a hurry. Why don't you slow down and start
treating your patients like people and not like cattle, and maybe you wouldn't make such foolish
mistakes," Valerie said boldly, handing her back the bill and she walked out the door. Wow! It
felt so good to stick up for her self.
Valerie had a dream one night that she'd had several times before. She would go to bed
exhausted and dream that she was tucking in a little baby in a bassinet that was covered in white
lace with a white ruffle around it. She had just finished nursing this little baby. It was full of
milk, clean, and dressed real sweet in a soft little nightee. She loved it so much. She kissed its
forehead and whispered, "I love you," and tiptoed out of the room, shut off the light, and quietly
closed the door... Then, she ran down the hallway, picking up clothes, threw them in a washer,
took clothes from the dryer, dropped the clean clothes on an unmade bed and ran to a sink of
dirty dishes. She was late for her appointment, the dinner had not finished cooking and just as
she turned to run to the back door the phone rang. As she answered it, she noticed she was
undressed. Phones were ringing everywhere. She saw people looking through her windows.
They were desperate, crying and some begging; women, children and old people. The dream
went on. She was exhausted. Suddenly terror struck her heart. She screamed, "My baby." She
ran to the baby's bedroom as fast as she could. It had been three days since she had last tended to
its needs, she had simply forgotten. Valerie could see her baby's tiny body lying there on its
back, still covered up with a little quilt she'd made, so still. It hadn't cried or complained in its
lonely hours of neglect in this dark room where it lay... then, she woke up. She shared the dream
with one of her friends. “Valerie, that baby is you".....
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Valerie was over three hundred pounds and too big to fit in the bathtub. Too busy to
bathe, brush her teeth, or put on make-up sometimes. She didn't care how she looked anymore.
When Roy stopped caring for her, there was no reason to look pretty, or try to. She ate like a pig
in secret, and cried when she swallowed the last bite, because “she couldn't believe she had eaten
the whole thing.”
The Outreach was privileged to be directly involved with these young women that came
to The Alternative for help. Valerie set it up in the Operation Outreach’s policies that they
would promised to give monthly money to The Alternative; furnish all their office needs and
help in any, and every way they could, so that all Sandy and Donna, and their staff of volunteers
would have to do is focus on helping the girls keep their babies. These precious young girls
would come to The Alternative in trouble, and Sandi and Donna would do all they could to help.
Operation Outreach provided anything they needed; housing, cars, maternity clothes, money,
support, baby clothes, baby furniture, and prenatal care. Donna and Sandi both would go
through Lamaze classes with the girls and be there at delivery to be their coach many times.
They stopped going to Greg Meek's church that summer, "Little Country Church" in the
Santa Ynez Valley and the kids were pretty burned out with Christian school. Valerie dreaded
the negative influences that they would be thrust into, but knew they had to experience life, good
and bad. She was enjoying her children so much. Just watching the kids goof off and interact
with their friends, fulfilled and accomplished so much in her. She wanted so badly to kick off
her shoes and play with them. There was a little child and a teenager inside her that wanted so
badly to play with the other kids.
It was Sunday. The kids and Valerie got all the chores done early so they could get to
this new church before the worship time started. They'd heard that they had a full band; drums,
guitars, steel guitar. Lots of upbeat kinda rock-like music. The kids would love it for sure. The
pastor was young, funny, to the point. It was a “come as you are” church, smack dab on Main
Street, in an old movie theater on the corner. Bums and drunks and bag ladies came in off the
street. People sat on the floors and leaned up against the walls if they wanted; barefoot, shorts,
long hair, tattoos. It didn't matter who you were or where you came from, you were welcome.
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This was her kinda’ place. Valerie thought she'd feel at home there if no one else did. She was
so fat, all she wore was tent size jeans.
The band was on the stage tuning their instruments. Two guitars; no, three, and a base
guitar, piano, steel guitar, drums, clarinet..."DRUMS," Valerie thought, as she squinted her eyes
to see if what she was seeing was real. Valerie stood up with tears filling her eyes. "HEY,
GUY!" she yelled, through the jabber of 300 or more people talking all at once. Valerie
continued to make her way to the front, and one more time she yelled, "HEY, GUY!" Although
he couldn't see her, he knew her voice so well. He stood to his feet, just as their eyes met.
"HEY, VAL!" (Guy Soxman used to work for Valerie. They delivered baby goats together and
he helped her deliver her little Betsy.) "Val, you look like hell. What happened?" he said as he
hugged her. Guy could always be super honest, that's what Valerie loved about the little jerk.
"Last time I saw you, you had a body, now you have three," he said with that side-smile, that
always made him look so shifty. "Well, Guy, when you left all of a sudden, you creep, you left
me with all that work to do by myself, and it changed the whole metabolic structure of my body.
I hope you're satisfied. I'll always be deformed like this because of you," she said, and they both
laughed and hugged again. God it was good to see him again.....
For a few days after church that Sunday, and the wonderful experience Valerie's family
and she had had there, life at home was blissful. Valerie and Roy were talking to one another,
small talk. This little communication they were having led to where it always led. They had
seemed so close until...the bedroom. Valerie hated her fat body. She hated the pretending to
enjoy it. She felt violated all over again and just wanted to hide and crawl under a rock
somewhere. Any excuse avoiding the unavoidable. Roy took it all personal, and the rejection
once again, he swore would be the last time. He withdrew and Valerie withdrew, in shame and
guilt. The kids were feeling everything, and not capable of understanding any of it. It was a
feeling of being lost, confused and full of pain. Lots of pain. Valerie would get in the car, and
drive and drive, further into the country, trying to outrun all of it, hoping she could escape, but it
followed her like a dark cloud. How could they survive as a family when each one was hurting
so badly and no one would talk about it?
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The Scotts had a big barbecue at the house that next Friday night and invited all their
closest friends; pot-lucked, played games, the kids all played catch football on their beautiful
large and roomy green lawns, while the women all congregated in the kitchen tinkering and
talking about the kids and school, good on sale shopping buys around town, and of course, recipe
exchanging.
Valerie made a huge, huge bowl of her famous dish called "Junk" and Roy
barbecued steaks, lobster, and home grown pork chops. One woman was jealous of Valerie's
picture perfect family.
Sherri and Valerie had dug through all that crap in Des Moines, then Lubbock, and now
Tucson was next. Valerie's past with Owen was there. Valerie had to have some answers as to
how to be free from this dead carcass that she drug around with her everywhere she went.
Before the end of the week, Sherri had them booked for a flight to Tucson, Arizona. Valerie had
already given Sherri the story about her marriage to Owen Michael Starr, Jr. Owen had left
Valerie and Michelle in Lubbock and gone ahead to Tucson. He was supposed to send for them
shortly after he got there, but he never did. Valerie conned a poor, young service boy into reenlisting in the Air Force, back in Lubbock, so he'd get a $1,400.00 reenlistment check. She
needed it to pay some bills and get her and Michelle to Tucson to be with Owen. The poor guy
fell for her scam and handed her the money. The next day, she hitched a ride to Tucson and he
never saw her again. Michelle and she arrived in Tucson with these two strangers that she'd
paid. They drove her and Michelle straight to the Chevron Station where Owen worked. He was
in training to become a manager.
Owen had an obsession for motorcycles and racing and spent a lot of money on both.
Valerie remembers motorcycle racing with Owen. "I was in the Powder Puff Derby races for
women," Valerie said. "They had just finished the racing competition and were going to have
the hill climbing event next. I thought that I could somehow win his love if I won the event. I
hated motorcycle racing, but I wanted Owen to be proud of me. On the way, nearly to the top of
the hill, my tire got stuck in the grooves that had been dug deep into the hillside with bike tires. I
couldn't turn the bike either way, the motorcycle engine died, and I started rolling backwards
down the hill. I was on Owen's new Bultaco motorcycle. The first thing that ran through my
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mind was not for my safety, but was embarrassing Owen in front of his friends and hurting his
bike."
She can still feel the hot pipes on each side of the bike burning through her pants and
sizzling her inside calves as she hugged the sides of the bike with her legs and hung on for dear
life. She was hoping to save the bike from any damage, not knowing that Owen would just
laugh, even after they disqualified her in the race.
Owen's dad was a car racing nut. It's like Owen was driven to become a national
champion. He already had several trophies, but the more he got, the more he had to have.
Receiving money for winning a race didn't have a thing to do with anything. He collected
trophies; that was his bag. He told Valerie many times, that one day he was going to mount them
all around himself and have her take a picture of him to show his dad he was a winner at
something. He was driven to one day get the love and approval that he needed from his dad. All
he lived for, was to hear his dad say, "I love you son, and I'm proud of you."
Sherri and Valerie drove to the house that Owen, Michelle and she had lived in on Elm
Street. It was basically the same, only the trees were bigger. "Owen used to work on his bike in
the back yard, see over there, right there is where he worked on his bike," Valerie told Sherri,
pointing at the exact spot.
Owen hung out at the pit stop all the time with his buddies. Valerie would sit there at the
pit stop on the hood of their car with Michelle on her lap, bored half out of her mind, with a
splitting headache from all the loud noises of motorcycle engines revving their straight bike
pipes with no baffles in them, popping with a hollow cracking, pop, pop, pop sound and the
smell of ether in the air. Every once in awhile, someone drunk would stagger by and try to pick
up on her. Michelle being in her lap, didn't seem to make any difference. She felt out of place.
It was better for all of them if she just stayed home. She scrubbed every door knob, the
woodwork and those wooden floors a trillion times. Visiting the house, she could tell Sherri
where every nick in the walls were.
"The only time Owen and I ever had that homey, family feeling, husband and wife and
baby, was when I was pregnant with Michelle when we lived in Lubbock," Valerie said. "What
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blew the whole thing was when Gwen and Owen tried to talk me into letting them go to bed
together. I was pregnant with Michelle."
The house gave Valerie a heavy familiar loneliness that raped her soul and tore at it
slowly. "The house was special to me because we lived here, but I didn't have a lot of good
memories about it; not good family memories. I always wanted a family atmosphere, a home of
my own: my own furniture, knickknacks everywhere, and flowers in the yard, a dog and cat,
going to the park with the kid’s kinda thing. Popcorn and TV, barbecues in the back yard. None
of that happened here," Valerie told Sherri. "None of that happened in my whole life until I met
Roy and we had our own family." Valerie wanted to run towards Roy and the kids, away from
her past.
The flashbacks continued to haunt. Valerie told Sherri, "I remember walking thorough
that gate over there," as she pointed to a gate dividing the house from the neighbor's place.
"Red's wife and I would sit and talk over there on that bench. She'd just cry and cry because she
was so lonely, she finally left him." When Valerie fixed Owen his dinner, she'd make an extra
one for Red and pass it through the window above her sink. He told Valerie that she was pretty
all the time and a good cook, and even sent her some roses once. It didn't bother Owen at all.
He wondered why he'd only sent her six roses and not a dozen. Red spent time with Valerie and
Owen didn’t care.........
When his wife found out that Red had been
seeing her, she banged on the front door that night
and stuck her hand through the small opening where
the chain kept the door from opening all the way,
with a butcher knife in her hand and screaming at
her at the top of her lungs, she wanted to kill her.
Red came and dragged her away. He had to put her
into the hospital because she kept trying to kill
herself.
Many vivid details are told about Sherri’s
and Valerie’s time in Tucson.... Not far from this
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house on Elm Street Owen met his death. The Tucson Daily Citizen newspaper reported, "Owen
Michael Starr, Jr., 25, was killed about 11 p.m., Saturday, when his motorcycle crashed at high
speed into a chain link fence at Catalina High School. Police said he apparently was riding a
racing cycle on N. Richey Blvd. at E. Seneca Street, when it struck a patch of dirt and skidded
out of control. His passenger, Betty Ann Stron, 18, was in the intensive care unit of Tucson
Medical Center."
Owen's death, as tragic as it was in itself for Valerie and for his little pumpkin, Michelle,
was always such a mystery. Valerie could never figure Owen unloading his racing bike out of
the back of his pickup truck late at night with no lights, no license, a completely stripped down
racing bike, no tail lights, brake lights, nothing, and he then rode it, high speed, down a street
he'd driven a thousand times when he came home from work when they lived on Elm, and then
miss his turn and hit the chain link fence at the high school. This “Nightmare on Elm Street”
continued as Valerie told Sherri everything....
After his funeral, Valerie contacted Owen's best friend. He gave Valerie a step by step
blow of what happened. He felt that the girl on Owen's bike that night was a representative of
Valerie. Saturday night Owen had come into the Cedar Bar where all the biker's hung out. (He
had once gotten Valerie a job as a go-go dancer there.) "He wasn't drunk or anything, but looked
lonely, dejected. He asked us to help him pick out the cheapest looking whore in the place.
There was this girl sitting at the bar. Her dress came way up high, she was smoking, drunk, and
hanging all over this guy she was trying to pick up or something. He asked her to go on a bike
ride," he told Valerie. "She threw her arms around him in a drunken stupor and slurred, 'Yes, I'd
go anywhere with you, good lookin.' Then she slid off the stool and they walked on out the front
door. I thought it was really strange for Owen to unload his racing bike like he did," the man
continued. "It was a real stupid thing to do. Not at all like Owen," he concluded.
Valerie took a deep breath, as she pulled a worn, tear-stained envelope from her purse to
show Sherri, as they sat there together. Almost as a combination memorial/Sherlock Holmes
adventure mystery. As Valerie unfolded the yellowing pages and began to read the letter that
was delivered to her just hours after she was told about his death, "I have been taken as Mike by
another woman, but she could never supply me with enough spirit to go on to a better life. And
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there are others that I have nothing to offer. They think they do, but I'm not to be fooled by a
few kind words and a soft bed. I thought for awhile, I was enjoying all of that, but it's still the
same as before. I don't want all, just one. I am not searching frantically, like an ant trapped in an
earring box. Mike, Bye Love."
Valerie was repulsed and confused by this hideous trail of destruction, everywhere she'd
been. Rubbish, mounds and mounds of trash. Her soul was tangled in it, like spider webs. How
could she have been so instrumental in hurting so many people? The guilt was overwhelming.
"After Roy and I started living together, Roy went to Mexico with a friend and left
Michelle and me at the apartment alone, no car or anything," Valerie told Sherri. "Every
morning at 3:00 a.m., I heard footsteps coming, slowly, closer, closer to the door, and then this
slow, hard “knock,” “knock,” “knock.” I went to the door the first night and no one was there;
every night. It happened the first night, it happened the second night, the last night I knew this
was it. I was petrified. At 3:00 a.m. sharp, I could hear him coming. A man's footsteps coming.
I could hear his heels click on the sidewalk, slowly coming towards the door. I saw the shadow
of his feet under the door from the street light. Then, before he was going to knock... I swung
open the door. It was him! It was Owen! He was decaying. He had dirt all over him, and his
clothes were torn. The same crummy suit they buried him in. Ugly suit! He stood there in the
doorway, and just looked at me. I slammed the door shut, and I thought I was going MAD! I
fell to my knees asking God to help me.... forgive me for all the bad things I have done."
Finally, after it seemed like hours of silence, Sherri spoke by asking Valerie a question.
She asked, "What did Owen want out of you? I don't understand why you feel so guilty. Why
you blame yourself for his death? Why you thought he was after you, punishing you? I don't
understand his letters to you? Why would you think he would want to to kill you, Valerie?" "I
never knew what Owen wanted from me. If he ever said he loved me or showed me any
affection, there were always those opposites that clashed with his words. Pimpin' me out to the
Mafia in Las Vegas, getting me jobs go-go dancing in clubs, trying to get me to prostitute myself
out there in Tucson. He actually wanted to be my manager. Yet he said he loved me? It's
always confused me. Did he want me to settle down, to be a wife? What did he want?"
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Sherri and Valerie looked for the Cedar Bar, where she and Owen used to go. They
drove up and back Kolb Road several times. "I could have sworn it was on this corner, Sherri,
but it's not," Valerie said. Finally, Valerie remembered seeing receipts from "Mussleman's
Honda" in Owen's billfold. Sherri made a u-turn and off they went headed for this motorcycle
shop. Sure enough, the owner, a man named Darwin, had known Owen well. "What happened
to the Cedar Bar?" Sherri asked. "It burned down mysteriously in the early 70's," the man said.
"Arson was suspected."
Mr. Musselman had been the owner of the bike shop for years, and was familiar with
nearly everything that they asked about; the Vagabundo Lounge where Valerie had worked once,
the Jester's Court Restaurant, where she'd gone many times when she was innocently involved
with the Mafia there in Tucson. She didn't even know what "Mafia" was. Harry the Horse had
taken her to Jester's Court Restaurant several times. He had been obsessed with her because she
looked just like a girl he had loved when he was stationed in Germany during World War II.
Mr. Musselman remembered Owen
well.
He mostly remembered Owen's
obsession with motorcycle racing. He was
abnormally, intensely, preoccupied more than
most of the others that hung out at the bike
shop back then. If he didn't have the money
for a bike part, he'd work for it, at the bike
shop. Now Valerie understood where all the
money went.
After getting back into the car, both of them had a zillion questions running through their
thoughts. "How was your sex life with Owen, Valerie?" Sherri asked right out of the blue as
they were driving to the city courthouse to see if they had any records on Owen's bike accident
the night of his death. Valerie was fearful of all this exposure and digging up her past, but she
responded anyway, "He hardly ever wanted me," softly under her breath. "WHAT?" Sherri
yelled taking her eyes off the road for a few seconds to look at her face to see if she was serious.
"Come on Valerie, you're hiding something. What is it?" she insisted. Valerie hung her head
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and whimpered a little, mumbling something about pictures of her, Owen took and kept in his
wallet. "He showed them to his friends. I was so embarrassed. He made me take pictures of
him. He tried to get me to sleep with another couple and all of us switch partners in front of each
other. Sometimes he'd do things to me using things that were so painful they... they... I can't talk
about it anymore, please," she begged. Her emotions were going in a million directions at once.
It was all like smacking a hornets nest with a baseball bat. "He refused regular sexual relations
with me; said it wasn't enough. He wanted me to go to these awful movies his friends played at
their houses but I was too afraid. I was afraid he'd let them use me to do what they wanted. He
beat me once because I wouldn't do what he wanted to do; that's how my neck got so messed up.
He was ashamed of me he said." "If he was so ashamed of you, Valerie," Sherri interrupted,
"why would he try to sell you to others for sex? Why would he try to get that Mafia guy, what's
his face, Bob, at that car dealer where he worked, to use you in Las Vegas to blackmail rich men
by taking pictures of you in bed with them through a peep hole in the wall?" "I was always
trying to do something to make Owen proud of me, Sherri. He would laugh and say if I wanted
to model, do the kind of modeling that would make some real money. That, “that” was all I had
going for me, anyway. I wasn't good looking enough to be anything else," Valerie explained,
thinking back to how ugly she felt then, and now.
That night Sherri and Valerie went to what Mr. Musselman said was the most popular bar
in the town. They ordered a coke and sat there for an hour or so like a couple of wallflowers
hoping Valerie would see a familiar face so they could question them about Owen. Nothing had
changed, the evil spirits were there, as always: subtle, cunning, insidious and they still pulled at
the victims sleeves: tugging, drawing them ever so cleverly. Guys picking up girls, girls picking
up guys. Drinking, loud music, drunkenness, dirty jokes, cussing and most of the girls would
end up leaving with some guy, having sex, getting pregnant or diseased, or worse. Valerie was
glad to leave, if Sherri would just stop dancing with that cowboy....
The next day they were outta there. "Don't ever give me a free vacation to Tucson,
Arizona," Valerie told Sherri as they boarded the airplane to go home. It was just a short trip
from Tucson to L.A. by plane. They got into her car that had parked in the long term parking at
the L.A. airport lot for the three days or so they were gone. It seemed like months. The car was
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covered in that thick gray smog with airplane fuel sprinkled all over it. "What a depressing trip,"
Valerie commented slamming the car door behind her after she got in.
Soon they were on the freeway. Valerie didn't have any sense of direction, but she knew
instinctively that they weren't on the way home. "Where are we going?" Valerie asked. "You'll
see," Sherri quickly answered.
It didn't take long and soon they were there, Buena Park,
California and Knotts Berry Farm.
Sherri whizzed the car into a parking space, threw the car keys in her purse, got out and
hollered, "hurry, we'll miss the tram to the park." "Wait, just wait...." responded Valerie, as
Sherri continued to holler, "Come on, race you to the tram!"
...Sherri was a real comedian. "Take the video camera and film this," she said perching
herself on a nearby bench with a triple-decker ice cream cone in her hand, and looking down
sadly at the sidewalk watching her ice cream drip on the cement, and form a puddle. She began
to pretend to cry, she “boo-hooed” loudly. A small crowd of people began to gather; Valerie
videoed from a distance, what an actress Sherri was. A girl with a broom walked over to her and
asked if there was something wrong. Sherri explained how sad it was to watch ice cream drip
onto the ground, “boo-hoo”. Then, Sherri snapped out of her act instantly and yelled, "Valerie,
okay, cut, that's a wrap." The girl put her hands over her mouth in surprise. "You mean you
don't recognize who this is?" Valerie asked walking slowly to where Sherri sat. Valerie had the
big video camera on one shoulder and ten pound battery pack on the other shoulder. "No... I'm
sorry, wait yes, yes, I do. You're a... a... wait, wait I know."....
On the drive to Santa Ynez, Valerie thought one again of her precious family. Why was
it so difficult for them to just live, and let live? What was it going to take for all of them to get it
together?
When they started to go over San Marcos Pass, Valerie told Sherri to pull over into the
parking lot of the bowling alley right off the junction at the beginning of the pass. "This is the
place I met Roy. We'd get drunk here nearly every night. I was drunk when I saw that good
lookin' man sitting at the table talking to another guy. I'd never seen anyone so gorgeous in my
life. Wow, what a hunk he was! I asked him to dance with me," Valerie told Sherri. "He fell in
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love with me hook, line and sinker when I only weighed 115 pounds and my hair was down to
my waist."
"Now, look at me, Sherri. I've tried so hard to grow my hair long again like Roy loved it.
I bite my fingernails to the quick. I'm a whole other person, all 295 pounds of me," Valerie
whimpered. "All these different lives of mine that had been started and not one of them finished
before another one started again. Have I been running away each time, or have I just been
escaping for survival?" Wow! The house looked great! Michael had just cut the grass. "I'm
home, hello is anybody here?" Valerie yelled as she walked in through the back sliding glass
door. Valerie heard the double fast clomping of her son's size 11 feet bouncing down the stairs
from his bedroom. "Hi, Mom. I sure missed you," he said hugging her tight. “Oh my, Michael
missed me”. Rebecca yelled from upstairs, "Hi, Mom," as Valerie talked to Michael, "Mother!
Come here!" "Just a minute, Rebecca," as she began climbing the stairs. She could barely get
Rebecca's door open there was so much junk on the floor. "Mom, I don't want you to ever leave
again. They're not good to me, Michael's a jerk and I get blamed for everything around here.
Dad’s always on my case about something"....
The kids and Valerie drove back over San Marcos Pass to Santa Barbara to meet Roy.
He was sitting by his boat waiting for them. He and their neighbor, Butch, had gone to Santa
Barbara to work on Roy's boat, the “VALERIE JO”. That evening, they all went for their usual
$60 to $80 meal, then to the show, ice cream afterwards, and home around midnight. Roy
snuggled up to Valerie in bed, from the back. Valerie froze like rigor mortis had just set in.
How could he want a pig like her? She hated sex so badly and felt so unattractive, and it all
made her feel so used, like an object for him to get what he needed to have. Roy felt so rejected
as if he was unattractive and not man enough. Neither of them knew what the other was feeling
and thinking, because, because... "Welcome home," he said sarcastically, and rolled over and
went to sleep. Valerie got out of bed and went into the bathroom. She turned on her favorite
music, filled the bathtub with really hot water, locked the door and slept in the bathtub with the
shower curtain closed so she could feel the closeness and security of her shelter.
The phone rang. It was Mildred, always with a word of encouragement. "Valerie, do
you know where Gary Hunzikers office is in Solvang?" Mildred asked. "Yes, I think so, why?"
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Valerie asked. "I need for you to meet me there at 11:00 today," Mildred told her sweetly. As
Valerie walked into Gary's front office door, things seemed a little strange. No one was around.
Then suddenly from the back room she heard singing, "For she's a jolly good fellow." Out from
the back room came Mildred, Gary, Denise, Gwen Hermann, Roslie Spry, Annie and Dale, and
all the rest of her office staff, and even Roy, who was standing at the back of the room with that
smirky-look on his face of contempt and disgust. "I bet it took a lot to get him there," she
thought to herself as the photographer from the Santa Ynez Valley Newspaper asked if they
could go outside for pictures. "Pictures for what?" she asked Mildred. "Valerie dear, you're
being awarded a national honor. You're being given the Santa Ynez Valley Heart of Gold
Award." Valerie nonchalantly accepted the beautiful bouquet of flowers and a check for $100 to
be given to her favorite charity....
The more people that filtered into the Outreach to take a leadership position that were
some of those "religious" folks, the more resistance Valerie got, because it took up so much of
her valuable time and energy to have to justify every move she made. The more successful
Operation Outreach was getting, the more of these kind of pious, socially powerful, religious
pillars of the community would come out of the woodwork. They'd want their pictures taken
with her for the local newspaper along with their donations. "Now, be sure you get that spelling
correct on my last name for that newspaper article," they'd tell the news reporter. Soon she asked
that anyone at the outreach be in the pictures with them, except her. She had all of the
recognition she wanted anyway. This was all about God loving people, through people, and what
about that didn’t they understand?
Valerie's physical needs, along with all the other heavy problems, were weighing her
down. Her neck had been really hurting and she couldn't seem to find relief. She was sleeping
sitting up again and could hardly turn her head from side to side. The pain was excruciating with
no relief in sight. She agonized day after day with a pain, that would shoot through her neck,
back and arms like an ice pick’s stab. Sometimes she'd even get stuck in a position and wouldn't
be able to move. She couldn't understand why she couldn't go to the doctor like everyone else
could in her situation. Being 145 pounds over weight didn't help, that’s for sure.
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Their Thanksgiving at home was a feast, as usual from all of the things she had grown
and raised. Michelle came home for Christmas. Santa and Mrs. Santa came down Fairlea Street
with presents Christmas Eve. Operation Outreach was awesome, also. Eighty-five families had
been adopted this year. The newspaper and radio helped promote the event. Not one child or
person in the entire community went without having a wonderful, wonderful Christmas, best
they ever had.
One night, just before Christmas, Roy woke up in a cold sweat screaming and crying in
the middle of the night. He grabbed Valerie and aggressively pulled her into his arms, like she
had not felt in years; and he bawled and cried like a little boy for a long time. He said he had a
dream, a terrible dream. He told her that the Lord spoke to him in this dream and told him that
he'd better hold her while he could, or, there would come a time when she wouldn't be there to
hold anymore. It frightened him so bad, he held her for two whole days off and on.
It
snowed
on
the
Figueroa
Mountains
Christmas day.
It was so
beautiful looking out of their
kitchen
mountains
window.
The
were
covered
almost all the way down to
the Valley. They were simply
breathtaking towering up into
the clear blue sky.
Michael
came downstairs for breakfast
and while eating an enormous breakfast of pancakes and an omelet, talked about going to the
snow. "Sounds good to me," Valerie responded. Gulping down his milk, Michael ran up the
stairs yelling at Rebecca, "Get up stupid, we're going to the snow."
Half the way up the mountain road, the tires spun and the truck swerved back and forth,
in and out of the tire grooves already in the snow. "Maybe we better turn back, Roy," Valerie
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suggested. "Relax, Valerie," Roy said, moving the truck abruptly side to side just for the thrill of
it. Valerie gulped hard as she looked down off the side of the narrow road they were on....
The kids piled out with their shovels, dropped them next to the truck, and ran for the
deepest snow they could find to jump in. Valerie grabbed the video camera. She knew she
wouldn't get hit with a snowball as long as she was filming them. WRONG! "Blap." She got hit
right in the back of the head. "Here, hold this Rebecca," Valerie said, handing her the camera
and took off after Michael. She scooped up a handful of snow and packed a nice size snowball
in the palm of her hand. "Come on, you wimp, you know I can't catch you. Stand still and take
it like a man," she told him while throwing the snowball. She missed, and so she took off
running. Michael tackled her and they both fell in the snow, laughing....
Birthday parties, slumber parties, picnics, playing in the snow, dances. It didn't matter.
They were all the things that were denied Valerie somewhere in the madness of her childhood
and lost teenage years. Valerie tried so hard to provide for her kids all of the precious things she
missed out on, so they could look back on their childhood and teenage days with fantastic
memories.
Michael's 14th birthday was coming up, and Rebecca's was a week later. "Let's have a
dance on the patio for your and Rebecca's birthday," Valerie told Michael. "We'll have a blast.
If the moms have any questions, they can call me here or at the Outreach." Rebecca cut her hair
for her's and Michael's party coming up in a few days. She wanted it short like Michelle had cut
her's....
Thursday, Friday and all day Saturday, Valerie put every moment she could into the kids
first dance at the house. Several moms called and wanted to know more about this dance; what
kind of music would be played and exactly what would be going on there? Dancing was
questionable that was for sure. She assured them that they wouldn't be dancing to "Holy, Holy,
Holy," or "Rock of Ages," however, she was screening the kinds of music they'd be playing.
There was some secular rock music Valerie really enjoyed. Her favorite was "Foot Loose" and
"Let's Hear it for the Boy."
Valerie made a sign for the dance to hang on the post on the patio, "The Rules." The
kids had invited just about every teenager in the valley. Michael had lots and lots of friends. He
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had a new girlfriend, Lisa Rochelly, and was in love, again. The bonfire was blazing on the
patio, and balloons were hanging everywhere. The picnic table and barbecue grill were ready for
serious eating. All kinds of snacks and munchies were on the table. Keeping Rebecca's cats out
of it was the trick. Ginger (their dog) caught a hot dog someone had dropped. Valerie took a
picture of her. She looked like she was smoking a cigar. By 6:30 p.m. the stereo was blasting
through the big speakers. By 7:30 there were at least 30, maybe more, kids there. They cracked
up at the "The Rules" sign Valerie had made that said,
"Absolutely no
drinking,
no drugs (that includes pot smoking),
no cussing,
no necking in the bushes,
no stealing,
no dirty dancing.
If anyone is caught doing any of these things...
they will have to dance with Michael and Rebecca's mother."
The sign seemed to loosen everyone up so they weren't so shy to get started having some fun.
By the time it was dark, the kids were everywhere more than anywhere else, laughing, dancing,
and munching out. Oh, it was so much fun! Roy even gave in and joined the crowd. He “D.J.ed
that stereo and those records like a pro. Valerie noticed her kids sure had that rhythm. They
both could really dance. They never knew where they got the talent. Valerie did, from Mama.
Valerie really came unglued when Roy played "Foot Loose" that night. She felt like going into
the house in the privacy of their bedroom to “Moon-walk.” The party was such a success that
the kids, all of them, wanted to know if they could have a dance a couple of times a month, or at
least once a month. They ended up doing that. Each dance, more and more of the Valley kids
came. In the Santa Ynez Valley there was nothing for the teenagers to do....
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The evening of Roy and Valerie's 16th anniversary was particularly exceptional. The
kids had made her and Roy a beautiful cake and gave them a nice card. Valerie had boxes full of
anniversary and birthday cards that they had all gotten through the years. She kept all the
memories, all school papers the kids had done, book reports, science project awards,
recognitions, gifts. Her mind seemed to recall all the precious moments and special memories
they had had together. Valerie went through her closet looking at her size 9 and up to her present
condition, "26". She had decided what she was going to wear over a dozen times, while eating
over a dozen chocolate chip cookies that she'd just baked for Roy. Finally, out of desperation,
she took off in the car for Santa Barbara to a fat shop that had just opened.... That evening Roy
took her out to her favorite restaurant, and he handed her gifts to her at the candle-lit table just
for two....
The next day was February 2nd, Valerie’s birthday; she had lots of pleasant surprises, too.
The Operation Outreach staff gave her some beautiful flowers and a card signed by everyone.
Michael had carved her a mallard duck out of pine wood, and Rebecca got her a plant and baked
her a birthday cake. There were balloons everywhere, and she sat in her chair at dinner time,
leaning up against her red, satin, heart-shaped pillow; she was 39 and counting.
Valerie's neck wasn't doing well at all. She couldn't do her chores anymore and the few
animals that were left required attention. Valerie had to find a home for Betsy (her cow), the last
of her animals. She sold her real cheap to a man that had other cattle. Bud Harwood came over
to the house to help Valerie load her into Rebecca's blue horse trailer and take her over there.
"Hey, Valerie, remember that time you got that baby buck goat at the auction? What in
the hell did you name that poor goat?" Bud asked as he turned off to the main road. Bud always
said exactly what he was thinking, that’s why he and Valerie got along so well. "You mean
Abraham?" Valerie asked. "Yeah, whatever happened to that goat? Did he ever grow any
testicles" Bud mocked laughing. "Of course he did, Bud. "That was the dumbest thing you ever
did, Valerie." "Bud, don't you remember I had all those female goats needing bred and couldn't
spend another $35.00 a whack to take each one to the same breed of buck?" "Oh yeah, I
remember," Bud interjected. "You had Heather, that Alpine of mine, that Lamancha with no
ears, a Nubian and a Toggenburg female. Your neighbor next door bitched all the time over
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them goats. If he'd been my neighbor, I'd done him like we did them baby pigs..." "Bud, that's
not nice! I decided I might as well breed all the females with a Toggenburg, for more milk
quantity. You told me they were over $250.00 for a good male buck, and I might find one at the
Santa Ynez livestock auction. Sometimes they had one there cheaper. The next Thursday, I
went by myself to the auction. They brought out this little baby goat to sell and it was a
Toggenburg! There was my goat! I was the first, and the last one to bid. I boldly yelled out,
“$40.00". Everyone turned around and laughed. I didn't know why they laughed.” “Well, now
you do." Bud snickered. "I'll bet they laughed," he interjected. "That thing wasn't worth ten
bucks. Ha, Ha, get it?" "Very funny, Bud. I couldn't wait to tell you. So, I drove in my old
green truck, with my new baby buck right straight to your house," Valerie said reminiscing.
"You sure did. I like-ta-died," he said laughing hysterically. "Funniest thing I ever did see when
I picked up that little bucks tail. He didn't have no balls" "That's enough," Valerie interrupted.
"That's why I named him Abraham. Abraham means, 'Father of a multitude.'" "It's still as damn
funny as it ever was. Good God, woman! You were the most naive woman I ever met back
then. If you don't beat all, girl, you and your faith," Bud said, tears streaming down his face with
laughter.... They unloaded her cow Betsy, and she drove away feeling so glad that Bud had gone
with her....
Valerie dreaded her trip to the insurance doctor's office, but was glad Roy was going with
her this time. They went into the doctor's office to answer some questions. He wasn't a friendly
man. Valerie needed Roy's compassion, protection and assurance. This doctor asked Valerie
several quick questions coldly and very businesslike. "Where do you hurt? How long does the
pain last? Describe the pain. Are your arms ever numb? Is your vision blurred? How long have
you been so obese?"
The adrenaline surged through her body and raised to her head so fast, she felt like a
thermometer about ready to blow the mercury right out the top. No one had ever called her
obese before. Well, did you hear me, Mrs. Scott," he said. Valerie stammered, "I... I... don't
know, I guess a few years." "You don't know how long you've been this overweight?" the doctor
said with a smirky chuckle. Roy responded to his question immediately and chuckled too.
Valerie was the victim. "Follow me, I'll need to examine you," he said standing up while
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gathering up his paper work on her case. "Your husband can sit here in this chair. I want you to
take off everything, except your panties, and slip this on," handing her a “thin paper thing.”
Valerie quickly put on the backless paper thing, in hopes it would come below her knees. It
came to at least four or five inches above the knees on her jeans. She still had her girdle on, the
below the knee, Sears Diet-trim girdle. Roy looked embarrassed and like he wanted to leave.
The doctor came into the room in a hurry and barked, "I told you to take off everything except
your panties." "I don't have panties on, I don't wear them," Valerie said sheepishly. "I can't
examine you with that girdle on. Now, take it off! I'll be right back."
Right away the doctor was back. "Okay," he said, "I want you to walk from the door to
that back wall on your tiptoes." With her back exposed, she walked passed him and Roy, with
no Kleenex to catch her tears. "Bend over and touch your toes. You can go further than that,
can't you? Are you in pain anywhere? Put your hands on your hips and bend from side to side.
Okay, get dressed, then come into my office," he said sharply, and he left. Valerie was degraded,
disgraced, and humiliated and Roy never defended her. What happened later in that office broke
off another part of her heart. She didn’t hate doctors, but she hated what they did and how they
acted. How could anyone be so insensitive? How could any husband not see that his wife was
being humiliated? Couldn’t he see the pain in her face? The tears in her eyes? The fear on her
face? Was he blind?
When Valerie got home from the doctor's office, the first thing she did was head for the
potato chips and a big glass of coke. She took it into her bathroom, closed and locked the door,
and sat on the floor leaning against the tub with tears in her eyes, eating the whole bag.... She ate
the whole bag!
The phone rang. Valerie answered it. It was her Aunt Virginia from Texas. Her
Grandma Mae was being operated on. They were removing part of her stomach and intestines.
She was 83 years old, frail and sickly. Valerie and Roy had been having financial problems, but
Roy let her go to Lubbock, anyway. Her grandmother looked awful. Valerie didn't hang around
the hospital much.
Just arriving in Lubbock Valerie called Rita and Harlan Womack.
The Operation
Outreach had been sending their prison- ministry money every month. Rita appeared to be
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happy. Who wouldn't with someone like Harlan? They talked for hours. Rita got up to go to the
women’s restroom. "I don't mean to pry, Valerie," Harlan immediately interjected, "do you love
Roy?" Tears filled Valerie's eyes, she blotted them before they hit an eyelash. Her defenses
were down, her pain was hanging out all over the place and she couldn't seem to pull it back into
herself no matter how hard she tried. "Yes, I do," she said softly. "I just don't know what to do
anymore." Harlan dissected Roy's way of thinking and actions and told them back to Valerie as
if he had known Roy all of his life. Rita and Harlan, each in their own way, knew exactly what
Valerie was feeling. She felt safe with Harlan, like she could tell him anything, just like she did
when she was a child.
When Valerie returned from Lubbock, Roy told her that the final deposition with the
other side's lawyers was coming up soon. The judge would be deciding the final outcome of the
case and who was awarded what. $25,000 seemed like a lot of money to Valerie. She was
looking forward to seeing her wish-list she had been saving in her desk drawer become a reality.
She wanted to go to Sansum Medical Clinic in Santa Barbara and get on this weight loss
program that was a sure thing. She had always dreamed of having a jacuzzi so that all of the
family could sit in there looking at one another and have to talk. She always wanted to have a
new piece of furniture, one that she didn’t get from a garage sale. She wanted a nice couch for
the family room. There would be about $5,000 or so left from the money for their whole family
to go on a trip.
Valerie continued to keep up her journals. Happy Trails was her favorite place to write.
Goddess seemed to know when she was headed for the creek. She'd run ahead of Valerie along
the same path they always took and wait at the big log that she always sat on.
March 14th was Operation Outreach's second annual appreciation dinner, Operation
Outreaches Agape Appreciation Dinner. Nearly 300 attended the sit down dinner. Dozens of
Outreach volunteers (mostly once recipients) helped with the preparation. No detail was spared
in making the appreciation dinner a long to be remembered activity by everyone who
participated in its planning and preparation, nor all the many people throughout the community
who were being recognized and honored that night for their contribution in helping to make life a
better one for so many. Every one of the churches had been involved with the Outreach during
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the past year. The dinner was intended also to honor the businesses and all their community
friends who had been supportive of Operation Outreach. The theme of this dinner was, "Love,
Unity, and Vision." It looked as if Valerie’s vision, God had given her that day in the pasture,
was pressing foreword towards the goals, except....
The board of directors for Operation Outreach didn't want to spend much for the
appreciation dinner for all the donors and recipients. Valerie said cloth tablecloths, the board
said paper. Valerie said chickens, and they said it was too expensive. Valerie spent most of her
personal family’s food allowance to make it a memorable occasion; just as long as Roy didn’t
find out. She would bring some of the gleaned food home from the Outreach to make up the
difference. When the banquet was over, the board seemed to enjoy the emotional rewards and
recognition of it all as if it were their idea.
They were still looking for new office space. Valerie refused to move into the old barn
one board member insisted they should accept from a donor. She stumbled by accident onto a
nine room old office building. The roof leaked, the heater was broken, the door locks were
broken, the yard was un-kept, it needed painting, the lighting was goofed up, it needed carpet and
he was asking $1,500 a month. "We'll give you $800 a month," Valerie told him. "Valerie,"
Denise whispered, "are you crazy? The board will flip." "Okay," he said. "I want $800 cash in
my office by 5:00, today," the man said and left. "Valerie, we don't have $800," Denise warned.
"It'll come," Valerie said, examining the rooms.
"Look, Denise, here's The Alternative's office. Right here in the front. They have their
own entrance. Here's my office, way in the back. It's big enough for a couple of couches for
counseling. The middle office can be yours or you can take the front office. Here's the reception
room and this little room can be a play room for the babies or a coffee room. We can put a
couch in there and one in the reception area. Here's the tape ministry room." There was a
bathroom off to the left and a storage-type room off to the right. Then another doorway which
led into a long cement floored room with two entrances; one a door and the other a double garage
door. Eleven rooms in all. The back of the building was all cement and there was yet another
place. It was a garage. "We can make it into another facility, Denise. Showers, bathroom,
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nursery, living room for the children's ministry, VCR, TV, cribs, and I see tricycles and wagons
outside here in the back, a picnic table, and a basketball hoop. WOW! This place is wonderful."
Jan Franson was working the desk that day at Operation Outreach. "Guess what just got
handed to me a little while ago? A check for two hundred dollars," she said. At Valerie's home
mailbox there were two checks for $100 each; two different donations. By 4:30, the last $100
came in. They got a cashier check and delivered $800 to their new landlord's office. Valerie
looked at her rolodex for volunteers. Most had never been called: painters, plumbers, dry
wallers, carpenters, gardeners, carpet layers, electricians, locksmiths, roofers, handymen,
movers. People came from all over the place. Donations poured in; desks, lamps, microwave,
doors, carpet, paint, office equipment, couches and chairs.
Almost instantly, the building
transformed.
Valerie went through more humiliation at the deposition between her and the other side's
lawyers. "How many times have you been married?" "Three." "Did any of these husbands of
yours beat you?" "Yes." "Did any of these husbands hit you on the back of your neck?" "Yes."
A few days later, Roy radioed her to meet him at their lawyer's office to sign the final papers and
pick up their check. They signed the papers and the lawyer handed her a check for seventeen
thousand dollars and something. Valerie was so excited. As soon as she drove down their
driveway she knew something wasn't right. "Get out honey, let's go shopping," she yelled to Roy
from her car. "No, you come here. We need to talk," Roy replied. "You can't have all that
money, Valerie. I've got bills to pay. I'm paying for the boat yard rental by the day. I have the
house payment and utilities. You run up a lot of bills around here. This house is lavish and
costly. You can have $3,000 for Sansum Clinic." "How could you do this?" Valerie yelled....
Roy had hardly been speaking to her for days. One day Valerie couldn't take it anymore.
Roy was sitting in his office at the house. She walked up behind him sitting at his desk. "Roy,
what's wrong?" He didn't answer her. "Roy, please--tell me what's bothering you," she asked
again. He just sat there at his desk looking at a magazine. "Roy!" she screamed. He whipped
around with fire in his eyes and stood up over her. "You wanta know what's wrong with me?
Do you want to know? I'll tell you what's wrong. I rape every woman I see in my mind. Old,
young, fat, skinny, it doesn't matter. I'm tormented day and night. Everyone I see! Do you hear
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me? You don’t want anything to do with me, and I don’t know what in the hell is the matter with
you. If makes me feel like something’s wrong with me! I feel like I’m being serviced when you
do “allow me” any part of you. You spend all of your time with everyone in town but us now
days. Somehow Valerie understood. Look at what she put him through for years. She opened
up her arms and put them around him tight. "I understand why," she told him softly. "Somehow
we'll work things out." He cried like a baby in her arms. He sobbed and sobbed. Roy loved her,
and she knew he did. He just wanted her to be normal like everyone else. Why was she so
different, she would always ask herself?
The bigger Operation Outreach got, the
more people got involved. The more involved,
the bigger the responsibility. There had been a
turn over on the board and many of the members
were preachers now, few of them saw eye to eye,
and none of them saw Valerie’s way of caring
about people. This was called “burn-out” but she
didn’t know it.
Bill Duboise told Valerie she was an
"administrator." That’s what she was called. He
said she was a visionary. "What's that?" Valerie
asked him.
"Well, it's one whose conduct is
guided more by ideals than practicalities." "Is
that good?" she asked. He laughed, "You really
don't know, do you? You have such a childlike
naivety; that's why your faith is so strong and powerful, Valerie. I hope you never get educated
beyond your unsophisticated innocence. If you ever begin to see things like everyone else does,
you'll lose that special magic that makes you so unique. I hope that never happens," he told her.
Valerie clung to every word Bill spoke to her that day. No one had ever taken the time to
explain any of this to her, and the more she heard about this good and intelligent part of herself
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the more she wanted to hear. Her mind thought like an organizational chart. Bill drew her one,
and it was amazing to see on paper what she saw in her mind.
One of the men on the board argued about what kind of lock they should have installed
on the front door of the new office. They talked about it at a board meeting for 45 minutes.
Everybody seemed to be more interested in things instead of people. It made Valerie want to
walk out of the board meeting and take Operation Outreach back to her home where love was in
the air and she could control it.
People
streamed
into
the
Outreach that next Wednesday, food
distribution day.
They only had a
week to get the building in order.
Like a buzzy bee hive, the entire place
was
under
construction.
overwhelming
job
of
An
cleaning,
repairing, building and painting had
gone on.
The condition of the
building would have demoralized
most organizations, but the Outreach volunteers faced the challenge. Some volunteers chose
special areas in which to clean, repair and paint. One built shelves and painted the room
designated for the pantry where staples, government commodities, canned goods, paper and
cleaning supplies would be stored ready for distribution each week. One recipient man painted
three rooms, another recipient man prepared several rooms for painting.
So here they were in their first day to receive those
for whom all of this was done. The line of single moms
and their children, homeless, elderly, jobless people had
already formed from the front door to the street before they
opened that first Wednesday. All the volunteer staff of
helpers took their positions.
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The old garage in the back they had converted into another very special building. They
called it "The Resting Place." It had been carpeted, furnished with an arRoy of all the comforts
of home; even a few rocking chairs, for cuddling and rocking the little ones. The back room of
the small garage building had a crib, playpen and diaper changing table in it.
Valerie loved to go to Vineyard Christian Fellowship in Santa Barbara. It met in an old
movie theater. It was always packed with people, even the balcony was full. People would stand
and sit along the aisles. Some wore suits and dresses, but most came in levis and t-shirts, shorts
and even tank tops. Every Sunday, Valerie sat in the back of the church on the floor, next to a
crippled man. Someone would bring him in on a pallet every Sunday and lay him on the floor
next to the back wall, then haul him off after the service was over. Valerie felt a lot like this
crippled man that she sat by, only he had someone to carry him out after church was over. No
one seemed to notice or care that she was in such pain or anguish as she sat there alone every
Sunday, begging God to heal her family.
One Sunday, as Valerie followed the stream of people out of the building, she noticed a
homeless young couple standing on the corner. They were across the street, trying to hitch a ride
while they watched all the church people talking, hugging, and laughing. Valerie got in her car
and drove slowly by the couple still standing there at the corner. They were dirty and so lost.
"Doesn't anybody care?" she whispered to herself. She felt like she needed to "go back to them."
She started to slow down and make a quick turn to catch the one way street going back, but
argued with herself, "What for?' This is Santa Barbara, not Santa Ynez. Now if they were in
Santa Ynez..." "Go back," came one more nudge. Valerie was sure she had gone over a mile.
"It's late, I have to get home," she reasoned. "Go back." After the third nudge, she turned
around. Valerie was acting just like what she had hated so badly a few minutes earlier inside the
church. No one seemed to care.
The couple was now sitting on the curb with their thumbs out as cars whizzed past. You
could still hear the laughter and loud talking coming from the church across the street. "Excuse
me," Valerie said, "I drove past you standing here, but I could sense you were really in need."
Valerie sat down on the curb next to them so she could talk to them on the same level. They
seemed to be responding to the fact that she recognized that they were scared and needy. Their
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answers were the same as most others; abusive childhoods, running from pain, feeling
unacceptable, looking for love. They talked about an hour or more. "In Santa Ynez, there's an
organization called Operation Outreach, here's the phone number. You can reach me there if you
need me," Valerie told them.
Lee Romney (always offering money) came by the Operation Outreach office to see
Valerie one afternoon. She looked real pretty, although she had lost several pounds due to the
cancer. "What do you need, Valerie?" she asked once again, as they sat on the couch together
visiting. "I need to do something for you all. I have so much, won't you let me buy you
something?" she asked. Valerie wanted her to know that she just loved her for her, not what she
could do for them. Lee was a very wealthy woman, very private. She'd probably heard every
story in the book from individuals wanting a hand out. She'd already done so much for them.
Valerie had to buck several people that had been on their board of directors about Lee and her
offers of money to Operation Outreach. "We can invest the money and draw interest. My God,
woman, don't turn her down," they'd say. Lee died that summer. She had asked her grown
children to make sure that when she died, a large portion of her clothes were given to Valerie and
Gwen (the woman with three deaf children and a missionary husband). It was such a thrill when
Gwen and Valerie went through boxes and boxes of clothing: Cashmere sweaters… dozens of
them; designer clothes worth a small fortune; shoes worth hundreds of dollars; a camel hair coat;
silks, satins, and laces; purses, scarves and pretty under things. At the end of Refugio Road and
Roblar, her beautiful Arabian horses still graze in the lush green pastures surrounding her hilltop
white ranch house. The big iron gates at the entrance of her property were always kept closed,
now.
Valerie invited their closest friends for a big dinner. They ate her good cookin' and
Valerie drank her Opti-fast. Yuck! After dark, they built a bonfire on the patio in the fire pit and
sat around the fire. It was a beautiful night. Spud played the guitar and they sang. They had
gathered around the bonfire and were praying when Annie had a vision about Valerie. "I see
you, Valerie, in a deep, dark, black pit, like a deep well would be. You're trying to claw your
way to the top where the light is, but you slip backwards. You're so tired, and yet you know you
can't give up. It's a matter of life and death for you," she said. "Then, I see you finally pulling
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yourself out of this pit," she continued, "the moment you stand up from pulling yourself over the
edge, you become absolutely radiant. You look young, you're thin, and you have on this
beautiful old fashioned wedding dress. "Wedding dress!!" Valerie yelled lifting up her head.
"Annie, the Lord spoke to me a month ago to prepare myself as a bride, that's what I've been
doing. I've even window shopped for a wedding dress and I'm losing weight. Roy and I are
going to remarry and repeat our marriage vows. God's restoring our marriage."
Then looking down at her self shameful, she mumbles, "No wonder he's unhappy. Look
at me. I look like a slob." Roy had been quiet up until then. Suddenly he put his arms around
her and cried like a baby. "Can't you see, Valerie, I love you, fat or thin," he said. But when
everyone left that evening Roy and Valerie returned to their corners. "Roy, what's wrong? Are
you mad at me?" "No, Valerie," he interrupted. "I just want to watch the news. Okay?" he said
irritably. "Do you want to go outside and sit by the fire with me?" Valerie asked. "No, I just
want to watch the news."
Valerie went to her bathroom, shut and locked the door, filled the tub with bubble bath,
turned on her music, and closed her shower curtain as she slid deep into the bubbles to her chin,
and cried. Saturday morning at 7:00 a.m., she awoke with Roy's arm slung around her waist;
time to turn on. She felt used, guilty and ashamed. He felt serviced and rejected, disgusted and
dejected. He left for work.
Roy had the phone in Rebecca's room disconnected; that stopped those phone bills that
were caused by the 900 number calls going out and coming in mysteriously from a phone that
was no longer there. The phone company never could figure out any other explanation other
than someone in their house was not only calling those pornography numbers, but calls were also
being accepted on that phone line. Roy and Valerie were stuck with the phone bills, hundreds of
dollars in all. Roy wouldn't talk about it.
Valerie kept a journal for her Sansum weight classes on her eating habits.
It was
required. The instructor would read the journal and make constructive comments. Valerie was
cheating on her eating nearly daily. No one knew but the instructor and her. Women twice as
big as she was, had totally gotten on their Opti-fast. No food at all! Why couldn't Valerie? Roy
and the kids didn't know she was cheating. She always snuck the food into the bathroom or ate a
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mouth full of anything at the kitchen sink while fixing dinner. She'd swallow it nearly whole and
quickly rinse out her mouth. She continued to lose weight however, although not without
feelings of guilt and a sense of lack of self control.
Valerie had just returned home from Santa Barbara to find the kids excited about Roy's
surprise. "What's all the excitement about?" she asked. Roy looked up, grinning ear to ear,
"How would you like to go the World's Fair in Canada?" "Canada? Wow! How do we get to
Canada?" Valerie asked. Roy said he figured everyone would like it so he'd already made all the
arrangements for them to fly on a 747 to Seattle, Washington. They'd then take a ferry to
Victoria Island. They'd stay at a resident bed and breakfast place for a few days and sight-see
beautiful Victoria. Then stay three days and nights at a condo he'd made arrangements for them
to rent not far from the "World's Fair" in Vancouver, Canada. Valerie was elated. This was the
family trip she had put on her dream list..."a family vacation." But how would she stay on her
weight program? Missing her classes meant starting all over again.
They were packed and ready to drive to the L.A. Airport. This was so exciting. The
plane was huge, two aisles, 5 rows of seats, champagne and movies. The kids goofed off as
usual. Brian was 17, Michael was 14, and Rebecca was 13. Roy and Valerie were locked arm
and arm all the way to Washington. They seemed to just take off where they'd left off the last
romantic trip they took... to Hawaii!
At Victoria Island, there were flowers everywhere, waterfalls, and pebbled streets with
hanging flower baskets all down each narrow street. The weather was perfect. Roy had made
reservations for them at a bed and breakfast place in town. The boys had their room; Rebecca,
hers; and then Roy and Valerie. Rebecca moped around and complained because Michelle
hadn't come with them and she didn't have anyone to hang out with. Brian was Roy's other life
and son. He was here with Michael, extra baggage that Valerie just didn't need. But she was
glad in a way Michael and Brian were so close, yet she didn't want this smarty, cocky attitude
that Brian had to rub off on Michael. Roy was especially close to Valerie during the entire trip.
Rebecca had to compete for her attention at times. She continued to whine, about "Why couldn't
I have brought a friend?" "I want this to stop now! You better have fun. Do you hear me?
You're gonna have fun if I have to beat it into you," Valerie said with a real straight stern face.
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Roy nearly spit his mouth full of pork sausage across the breakfast table. He burst out into
laughter. Then they all started laughing and the tension was broken. They spent that day in the
Botanical Gardens, a wonderland of flowers of every kind and then went to the water slide park
to let the kids goof off on the slides.
The next day they left early, back on the ferry to Vancouver, Canada, and the EXPO "86"
World's Fair. There was no way Valerie could stay on her Opti-diet or drink nearly a gallon of
water all day, and find an easily accessible bathroom while waiting in lines to see an exhibit for 1
½ hours each time. Roy agreed. Little did anyone know she'd been cheating anyway here and
there. She'd made herself a Belgium waffle, sausage, and egg sandwich. When no one was
looking, she snuck it off the stove in Victoria at that bed and breakfast place they had stayed at.
She stole a lady's bag of popcorn in the bathroom in town the day before. Rebecca and she had
laughed. Rebecca gave her a bite of her hot dog twice. And, there were other times. Now, no
more sneaking and feeling guilty. She could pig out openly!
They saw one EXPO exhibit after the
other. Rebecca was pouting again because she
was stuck with Mom and Dad. Brian made
some remark to Rebecca in response to all her
complaining, and Valerie and Roy jumped all
over Brian.
He stormed off to his and
Michael's room and slammed the door. They
all went to bed, but that night Brian had a
serious conversation with Michael and opened
up. He told Michael that night how lonely he
had been growing up. He'd spend weekends
with them, but always went back to his mom's
feeling worse than when he left. He said he
looked so forward to seeing them, but when he
got to the house, Valerie had a hundred chores for him to do and always wanted to unload the
leftovers on him as though he were some kind of trash can. He told Michael, Rebecca always
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got her own way. Michael just sat and listened. He loved Brian so much. Then Brian started
crying. He told Michael about all these girls he'd slept with. Then Michael got mad and they got
into a fight. "You jerk, Brian, I've always looked up to you. You're only seventeen. You're
supposed to be an example for me..... Brian, you're doing real stupid stuff," Michael whispered
as loud as he could without being heard. The next morning everything was back to normal, on
the outside, anyway.
The final day at the fair, they were all
grasping for all the fun that they could embrace.
It was close to a circus performance everywhere
they went.
Like little children playing in a
never-never land. Valerie had gained 5 more
pounds on this trip, but it was worth it, and the
last few days of the fair were wonderful. It
always seemed to take a few days to break
through the constipated emotions everyone had.
If communication were open and everyone
could express themselves and just get out what
was locked up inside, then that would be all that
was needed for this family to survive together as
a family unit. Everyone’s emotions were like a
pressure cooker, and the valve just needed released to let all of the steam out.
Back home, every Wednesday was extra special as new people were coming into
Operation Outreach. A man and wife and their small son came in for help one day; Noel,
Beverly, and little Matthew. They were jobless and homeless. They had nothing but their
pickup truck. No food, no gas. Noel was quite a handyman. He fixed their old green truck's
brake problem and rewired Valerie's entire telephone system in her office. He also built more
shelves in one of their rooms and painted their new shed that someone had made for their
garden's Kubota Tractor. Within a few months they had a home and a full time job taking care
of Bill Brown's farm. Operation Outreach completely furnished everything for their home.
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Robert, a Spina-bifida baby, was now 19 years old and wasting away with a meaningless,
useless life, when his mother called Operation Outreach; what a blessing Robert became. He
answered their phones and recorded messages. Robert became their own personal receptionist.
He addressed birthday cards, made phone calls, posted information and scheduled Valerie's
lunch appointments. Mack and Lucille still delivered food to shut-ins faithfully. Mr. and Mrs.
Gray still picked up all out-dated dairy products. Billie Bailey was confined to a wheelchair, but
she ran a mean typewriter. Clela would compose the heartfelt letters to one of the donors.
One morning, Robert announced that there
was a man to see Valerie. Out in the reception area
stood this sweet looking elderly man with his hat in
his hand. He introduced himself as being named
"Cletes."
Cletes had been camping at Cachuma
Lake for almost a month. Cletes was thinking they
might be able to help this young man that stumbled
onto his campsite without food or belongings.
Valerie was concerned why this 76 year old man, Cletes, was camping by himself at the lake for
weeks. He seemed so despondent; so lonely and helpless. She soon learned that his only child, a
son, had been killed a few months earlier, and he had withdrawn to become a regular hermit. He
said he wanted to die, but was too chicken to oblige himself. He chose instead to seclude himself
from society. He was totally ticked off at God.
Valerie invited him to assist the gleaning
supervisor. He had a pickup; they had the veggies and
fruits. He said, "No, thank you," walking toward the
door. In walks Margretta Berry (the cussing 'aren't you
going to give me a hug' lady). You should have seen the
look on Margretta and Cletes faces when their eyes met.
Cletes were saying, "Now, what time was it that I'm
supposed to begin that assignment?" Cletes and Margretta were married by the end of the
summer.
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It was about 11:00 p.m. after Roy and Valerie had gone to bed when they heard what
sounded like a maniac driving down their driveway. The car came to a screeching-halt, the door
flew open, and slammed shut. Valerie jumped out of bed. Shirley, her friend, already had run
into the house and barged into their bedroom, flinging the bedroom door open with a loud
"thud." "Valerie, Jim... Oh my God, Jim... I caught him with another woman," Shirley screamed
in an uncontrollable state of bereavement. "You know, those camping and fishing trips with the
guys were just lies... they were lies, and I believed him!” She fell to her knees on the floor next
to Valerie’s bed. “I was getting ready for bed tonight when I decided to go looking for him, I
had this feeling..” The Maverick Saloon in downtown Santa Ynez was her first stop, she
explained. “He wasn't there.” She drove to Zacca Creek Bar and finally the Hitchin' Post, and
sure enough, his truck was there. She suddenly got sick to her stomach and it felt as if the blood
drained out of her body, because she just knew he was with someone. "He was kissing her," she
cried. "It's unbearable. Why would he do this to me?" Shirley sobbed and sobbed with grief.
Another friend's life was falling apart as Valerie stood by helpless unable to help or console her
friend or, and another member of the intercessory prayer team was knocked down. Shirley’s
nightmare had just begun....... She would be driven to near insanity in the next months and years
to come.
Here they came to Operation Outreach, day after day:
broken, lonely, hurting, dirty, homeless, hungry, sick,
desperate, hopeless needy people.
Kenny, a hopeless
alcoholic, became a volunteer and was changed. Ricky was a 4
year old little boy nobody wanted. He wouldn't talk. After his
foster mother brought him to Operation Outreach he began to
talk and was adopted by a lovely family. Another family, Russ
and Kit and their three year old little girl received food,
clothing, shelter, and a job. Another family, Paul, used to beat
his wife, Pam, mercilessly. Their home was a disaster because
of Paul's drinking and abuse. Anger and self-hatred was his real problem. Their children were
withdrawn and unhappy. Operation Outreach changed their lives.
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Then there was Robert and Debra. Robert couldn't find work because he had no teeth,
except two front ones, spaced a good two inches apart. Operation Outreach sent him to the
dentist, and Robert got work. They helped furnish their apartment and supplied all food, clothes,
medicine, and furniture, anything they needed while they got on their feet.
Daniel and Patricia Marin and their two children, Grandpa
(Peter) and Harmenia (Patricia's mother) were homeless, no food,
no gas for their car. All of them were living in a barn. Patricia was
eight months pregnant.
God changed their lives through the
Outreach. Rafael Rascone had hurt his back. They were new in the
Valley and were having some problems making ends meet. As soon
as they got back on their feet, his wife, Grace became an active
volunteer at Operation Outreach. She was just like another Valerie,
only Spanish.
Phil was a very handsome young man only 19 or 20 years old when he came to Operation
Outreach during a distribution day. He was dirty, tired, lonely, and hungry. He was what is
called a street person, a society reject. He rejected society for his reasons; society rejected him
for the obvious. Phil slept in the bushes, in gas station bathrooms, getting a little work here and
there whenever anyone would hire him. He was defensive, critical and cocky. Phil had run
away from home in Arkansas several years earlier, actually at the age of 14, and had drifted from
one town to another searching for "something." He slept in the streets of Los Angeles and had
even seen a man die in the streets, "before his very eyes," he said. He had been involved in the
degradation of prostitution. His dignity had been completely stripped from him many years
before by an abusive father. His only goal in life was to become a football player so that his dad
would finally accept him and be proud of him. Since he had no high school education he felt he
could never amount to anything. His life through the Outreach got turned around and Phil was
grabbed up right away at college by the football team.
Billy was a quadriplegic. Eleven years earlier he dove into shallow water and broke his
neck. When Valerie met him, he was living at Lake Cachuma outside of Santa Barbara sharing a
tent with someone that had taken him in. He was homeless, a street person, rejected by society.
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The man that had befriended Billy had also beaten him and taken all he owned which included a
monthly government check. "They helped me, but when they found out I got a check every
month, they stole it all, and have at times left me for dead," he said. "I can't defend myself." A
recipient couple took Billy in at their small trailer temporarily. A special lady in Santa Ynez
Valley helped Billy get back home to Detroit, Michigan, where his aging father lived. She
bought the plane ticket and a wallet and filled it with cash. All of these people, and only God
knew how many more, were out there, just waiting to be found.
Roy and Valerie were off again, this time to Catalina Island. One of Valerie's favorite
songs, "26 miles across the sea Santa Catalina was waiting for me ("The Catalina Express").
There was a place called the "Cartopia" where they could rent gas carts and ride around the
island roads, and up the hills.
Valerie and Roy had traveled light, just one bag. The first thing they needed was a room;
everywhere they asked, it was full. At $65 a night, they finally found one of the highlights of
their trip. The building looked as if it would collapse any moment. It needed major repairs
including a paint job. Roy and Valerie laughed, arm in arm, all the way up the rickety steps to
"the room" that was theirs. "Wait, let me capture this moment before you look to see what's in
there," Valerie said raising the camera to take a picture.
Roy unlocked the door. It was like a scene in an old 50's movie. A single 40 watt light
bulb hung alone from a cord in the middle of the ceiling. The tiny room had one low double bed,
no pillows, no pictures, no mirrors, no lamps, no table; nothing but a small closet with one
hanger and a double window with those roll up blinds, no curtains and directly across from the
building, just feet away was another window. You could almost shake hands with the person in
the next building. They laughed and laughed. Believe it or not, it actually had a special
romantic character to it. They soon fell in love with its simplistic composure. Roy and Valerie
giggled and joked around until they'd said something about nearly everything in the room.
Then, they rented a cart and drove all over the island. It was so romantic. They ate lunch
at a quaint café.
Everything was near the water.
Roy got someone to take their picture
everywhere they went. Valerie could see the longing in Roy's eyes and it almost frightened her.
Roy's concepts were a lot like the song said, "Life is just a bowl of cherries. Don't take it
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serious, life's too mysterious. You work, you slave, you worry so, but you can't take it with you
when you go-go-go. Love while you're livin' and life? Learn to love it all."
Valerie loved Roy so much. She loved his precious heart most of all. The walls were so
thick to protect it from being broken; just like hers. He'd crack open a space for her to squeeze
through if she met his safety requirements, she'd crack a space if he met hers.
Breakfast, a walk along the shore, and then they drove the cart to the famous Wrigley's
Plantation. They walked up a zillion stairs, a huffin' and a puffin', to the top of this large
platform. Roy put his arm around her as they looked at the ocean. "You wait Roy," Valerie said
to herself in her mind, "I'm getting myself ready for you. One day you'll have more than you
ever dreamed. You'll be so proud of me."
The phone was ringing when Valerie walked in the door from picking up her pictures of
Roy and her at Catalina Island. It was Shirley. It had been two weeks since Jim had left her.
Poor Shirley. This is what she got for all those years of faithfulness? An empty nest, a husband
that didn't love her anymore and venereal diseases. She'd been a basket case the whole time.
Shirley didn't eat anything for eight days after she found Jim with Linda. She cried nearly nonstop and couldn't sleep. She was really missing Jim. She'd taken the blame for the whole ordeal.
"Hello, Shirley, honey, how are you doing?" Valerie asked. "Awful. I can't stand being
alone in this house today. Let's go somewhere," she begged. "I heard there's a good movie at the
show in Buellton," Valerie said, "Paulette was telling me that I should see it; one of Spielberg’s
new films. It's called 'Color Purple.' She said it was the best movie she'd ever seen."
The movie began... When the black girl in the movie was ridiculed by her dad when she
was told by him that she had an ugly smile, she quickly put her hand over her mouth to hide her
ugly, big teeth... Valerie cringed inside and sunk down into her seat. A flashback of her
childhood scares seared through her soul. The same emotion grabbed her like a predators claw
with the black ladies dad's sexual abuse, taking her babies away from her, her husband's
beatings, the sex she was forced to have with him in that same scene Valerie had been in more
times than she could number. She could identify with every feeling the actress so expressly
performed. Valerie had felt just like her... all her life. When she was talking to that skinny
girlfriend of her husband's about sex and was asked, "Didn't she like it?" Valerie was repulsed
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until she heard the words that fit exactly how she always felt in the same situation. She
answered the question with an abused woman's universal answer. "I feel like all he's doing is
going to the bathroom on me," the black woman answered. The theater was dark. No one, no
one saw Valerie crying; catching her tears, hiding the evidence. The movie continued...
When God brought her children back to her, Valerie pretended that was her. Her Jay and
Tanya were in her arms, happy to see her, knowing that they would never be separated again,
ever! It was Valerie who had the courage to walk out on the abuse. She wanted to stand up and
cheer out loud, at the top of her lungs when the black woman told her husband, "What you have
done to me, will come back on you." She had her children back. God had answered a grieving
mother's cries and she was free at last, free at last, thanking God Almighty she was free at last.
Valerie looked around her at the audience of mostly women. Was anyone feeling like she was
feeling? My God, this movie touched where she needed touched. This producer was indeed a
gifted, sensitive man. It needed to be a man stepping foreword to defend us women, Valerie
always believed.
Every Friday night Valerie would sleep on the edge of the bed. If Roy even flinched a
muscle, she knew about it. She lay there in fear, gripped with fear hoping she wouldn't fall
asleep and could sneak out of bed by dawn. Excuses ran through her head like her office
rolodex. She instinctively knew which one would work for each week, each occasion. The trick
was to make it so believable that he wouldn't get so mad at her that it was hell for days around
the house. Valerie hated this manipulating game they were playing. Rather than lose all her
dignity, she started this collection of very legitimate excuses: headache, backache, neck ache,
yeast infection, stomach ache, too tired, not tired, sick stomach, have to take a bath first ( a one
hour one), bladder infection. Roy said she didn't have a sexy bone in her body. The main reason
she had gained weight was to protect her self, she found out through her weight classes. Now,
she was spending $3,000 to... take it off, take it all off! She’d show him.
Always right after Roy and her had sex, she would have horrible nightmares. She was
always being stalked. Once, a demon in a dream grabbed her in a dark parking lot. She couldn't
find her car and was walking up and down the dirt road of the lot when he seized her from
behind. He threw her, like a rag doll, to the ground. His penis was like a sharp javelin. She
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knew it would kill her. The demon jumped on top of her ripping off her clothes like they were
tissue paper.
She separated from the victim and became a spectator, trying to find help.
Everyone was too preoccupied to help. Running and running for help and no one to listen,
abandoning her self helplessly.
Rebecca had gone with two boys that broke her heart when they dumped her for someone
else. She stayed depressed most of the time until this one boy came into her life. His name was
Lance. Lance's dad was a truck driver and was gone a lot. He also did a lot of drinking. His
mom wasn't home anymore. There had probably been a divorce, the word that struck fear in the
hearts of all the kids friends. It seemed like a plague. Michael would never let Valerie forget the
promise she had made to him when he was little. He would never have to fear his dad and mom
leaving each other.
Lance wasn't Roy's idea of the kinda boy
he thought Rebecca should go with. He had his
own truck, a "56" Ford pickup, bright yellow. It
was a real fine classic.
Lance rebuilt and
painted it himself. Lance was a real quiet guy, a
bit older than Rebecca. He had a lot of freedom
and his own money from a steady job. Rebecca
wasn't out of junior high yet. When Lance came
into her life she stopped running around with
Audra and her other friends. Her whole world
seemed to revolve around Lance. Her school
grades started to drop, and she quit all of her
social and sports activities. This infuriated Roy.
It really wasn't like Lance made her so happy, she dropped out of society. Actually, she was
more lethargic than ever before. She didn't seem interested in much of anything else but him.
There were little spurts of enthusiasm but, only when she was working her way towards
something she wanted. Valerie knew she manipulated and she'd play along with it a lot of the
time. She wanted her happy-go-lucky little Rebecca back again. Roy would not let her date.
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Valerie had agreed. She was much too young. Valerie sure didn't want her to end up like she
did when she was her age, that's for sure. Rebecca would drag around like death warmed over
for days, her room was worse than the Santa Ynez dump ground and she wouldn't do her
homework or even get out of bed in the morning for school. Then suddenly, on a Thursday
usually, she'd do a 180 degree turn around and was so pleasant to be around you just couldn't say
no.
Valerie hardly ever heard from Michelle, and for survival sake she didn’t herself think
about that particular pain anymore.
School had started again. Michael really liked high school. He was the trend setter of the
school and heart throb of all the girls. The teachers adored him, the coach couldn't imagine
Michael not being on the high school football team, according to Michael. He'd stand to the side
of the couch, helmet under his arm. Roy would be engrossed in some TV show. "Guess what
Dad?" "Hum?" Roy would say nonchalantly. "Coach said I've got the most potential of anyone
on the team." "That's great, Michael," Roy said in an unruffled sorta way with his eyes still on
the TV show. Michael was beginning to crack under the weight of his disappointments and
rejections. He was becoming more and more aggressive and angry inside. He took things that
should have been happy, fun-filled experiences and twisted them into a nightmare of
performances. Roy worked all of the time, and everyone was busy in their own world of
activities, and so everyone in the family suffered alone.
The garden project at Operation Outreach had been the most successful so far that year
over the previous two years. Newspaper and magazine articles were being written on the
Outreach from Santa Maria, San Luis Obispo, Lompoc and Santa Barbara. A group from Las
Vegas even heard about their garden project and came in buses to see it. Betty and Bob Stephens
were their newest garden supervisors. Their children were
grown with kids of their own, but their home reeked with all
the happy memories they'd known together as a family in
days gone by. Bob and Betty and their five kids had built
their home themselves. It was a dream house. A fireplace
was in every room.
The kitchen was custom made for
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cooperative family cooking. Pictures of the family were all over their dining room walls, just
like Valerie. They owned many acres of land. Valerie loved going to their place because it
reminded her of her glory days with her animals. They had pigs and cows, chickens and goats,
horses, dogs and cats all over the place. Their family had also built an indoor swimming pool in
their basement. Every morning Bob would build a fire in the fireplace in their bedroom, make
Betty coffee and serve her in bed like a queen.
Valerie had a feeling an avalanche of food donations was going to be hitting before
Thanksgiving. Over 100 families would be given turkeys, dressing and all the trimmings. They
needed a small building where they could better store things like canned goods, diapers and such.
Valerie had asked the board for the money to have the one she wanted built. It would cost about
$2,000. Their budget was always too low for such luxuries, they'd say. Valerie could never stand
still on any situation. They finally agreed that if $2,000 came in within a two week period that
she could use it to build her storage building.
Three days later, her shed for the canned goods had been "supposedly" delivered.
Beverly took Valerie to the back of the building where this pile of tin was stacked, along with a
box of bolts and nuts to assemble it with. "Someone just called this morning and asked if we
could use an 8'x10' storage shed," Beverly explained. Valerie barked, “This is not what I prayed
for” and she gave the shed away...
Valerie parked the car in the Old Santa Ynez Catholic Mission parking lot overlooking a
beautiful wheat field to attempt to read her mail that had been crammed in the P.O. box. One
long business envelope had no return address on it. Valerie opened it and there was her miracle.
It was right on time; in fact, she had just spoken to a man (a recipient of O.O.), a carpenter. She
wanted to pay him to build the storage shed. She told him she was expecting the money any day.
There it was, a cashier’s check for $2,000 designated "For Improvements." A week before
Thanksgiving her building was finished... just in time!
Mae Grissom, the bookkeeper of Operation Outreach, resigned because her new "English
Speaking Other Languages" classes at Operation Outreach were growing so fast. She handed
Valerie the Operation Outreach checkbook.
responsibility," she said.
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"You're the president, Valerie.
It's your
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Valerie hated to see the rolodex go but this was the 80's. Computers were in. Roy called
her a silly dreamer; Mildred said she was a visionary. Bill Dubois said it was a gift from God;
the organizational skills, administrating, brain storming, problem solving. Valerie was just
beginning to see herself emerge as she'd never dreamed she could.
She spoke to a lady that had volunteered to do grant writing for them. Valerie told her
that they needed two things; a $35,000 computer system and a nice copier in their office. It
would help them tremendously with their mountains of paper work. Patsu and Howard, who
owned and operated a word processing business, had been putting their newsletter together.
Well, they got that first grant. They didn't mind all the red tape they had to go through to get it
approved.
They wore themselves real thin, the untrained all-recipient volunteer staff and
Valerie, gathering all the required information they needed to provide them, to prove by any
shadow of a doubt their need was legit. An educated volunteer was delegated to put a three ring
binder together that had a copy of all of the pertinent information the foundation required for
submitting a grant. Next time they'd have all their marbles in the right sock.
Valerie got another good idea. There were so many wealthy people in Santa Ynez. She
knew that if they had a safe place to donate their money, like they were always begging her to
accept, other organizations could benefit from their generosity. Many of the wealthy in the
community had asked Valerie why she turned down money from them, and she simply told them
that Operation Outreach really didn’t need it; they were doing fine just running the organization
in simple ways. The community took care of most of their needs and money wasn’t an issue.
"The Jubilee Foundation" was Valerie’s idea. Similar to United Way this would service many
needs to those in need within the community, by the community. In a matter of months, it came
into existence. Valerie wasn’t shocked at all at who wanted to be on the board. Greed and power
was a nasty way of living, and she was saddened to see what it did to people, and how they
behaved around it.
It was December 1st and the Outreaches
Adopt-A-Family program was about to began,
again. Valerie personally matched a record amount
of families, donor and recipients.
Patsu and
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Howard professionally re-did all of their very primitive, typewritten forms from the projects past
years on their word processor. Even the personal letter Valerie composed, that they sent to the
donor, was professionally done and spit out on that laser printer. Patsu designed an official
Adopt-A-Family logo on the computer.
Every time Valerie stepped out on faith for something, she encountered opposition from
the board. Most of the ones who objected to her "wild haired ideas" were people that were welleducated, well-versed, well-known, and well-off financially, and the religious from the organized
religious system. It was no secret Valerie hadn't finished the 9th grade, and they would have
never gotten over it if they would have known that she could hardly read even the hundreds of
letters and documents that she'd composed from their beginnings.
She didn't know her
multiplication tables and couldn't subtract or divide without a calculator.
A Toys for Tot's commercial van unloaded so many toys that there was no way that they
would be able to find homes in their town for all of them without spoiling these little ones rotten.
People wanted to give. All they needed was a legitimate source to give through.
Valerie was down to 190 pounds and shrinking. She'd gone from a 26 or 28, something
like that, to a size 16. She'd been walking nearly everyday, three laps all the way to the end of
Highland Road and back, right on Fairlea, left on Oak Glen, left on Glen Gary, right on
Highland. She'd be strapped down with all her usual paraphernalia; her tape player and ear
phones, sweat band around her head, one pound weights around each wrist and ten pound weight
strapped around her waist. Just before Valerie’s prayer walk each morning her favorite thing to
do, during season, was to snag a golden delicious apple off her apple tree that was at the
beginning of the driveway.
When she'd round the corner from Fairlea to Highland, she could see all of their property,
all two acres, to the back of the pasture. Goddess would run and prance when she'd see Valerie.
She guessed she missed their special time together at Happy Trails. Valerie hardly had time to
write in her journal anymore down by the creek. Goddess would snort and whinny at her. She'd
whistle back at her. Ginger and Josh would be sitting at the end of the driveway waiting for
Valerie. Their tails would wag so hard when they saw her that their whole rear end would sway
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back and forth.
Valerie felt great!
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Her fingernails were beautiful!
They were strangely
beginning to grow. What was up with that?
Valerie was trying so hard to get the weight off, and still, Roy and Valerie's relationship
had gotten so much worse. He had nearly shut Valerie out completely, and when they did speak
to one another it was an argument about the kids, money and those stupid violent negative TV
programs and the movies they'd rent to watch. Cable TV, the satellite dish and all those
channels! Non-stop trash was coming into their home and now four letter words and the Lord's
name taken in vain echoed through the air like a death stench. Blood and guts, killing, mutilating
and demon movies, and still she battled with the satanic subject matter the latest more popular
movies always seemed to have. The horror movies were the worst because they were filled with
demons; demons Valerie confronted often in her home. "It's just a movie, quit spiritualizing
everything," Roy would yell. Valerie couldn't just sit and watch it so she would retreat to the
bathroom and lock the door, and pray for her children. Manifestations of demon activity had
been increasing the past few years, and especially lately. Doors to them were open all over the
place in her family, Valerie could feel them just waiting for her to crumble under the load. Little
did she know that it was her Godly presence that held them back.
One morning Valerie could hardly believe her eyes when she opened the office door at
the Outreach. She recognized that smell. It was the smell of filth. There sat these three, two
boys and a girl. Their hair was matted and nasty. Their skin was dry and sallow. Their clothes
were grubby and raunchy smelling. There was no telling when they had last been washed. Their
nails were long and repulsive. "I'm Angie, this is Dan and Tyler," the young girl said. "We're
not used to asking for help, it's just that it's been so cold where we live. Some of the others are
pretty sick," she said. "Others, what others?" "Well, there's about twenty of us that live together.
We camp back up in the hills." "Look, all we need is some coughing medicine, no lectures,
please!" Dan said. "And if you start preaching, forget it... we're out-a-here," Tyler interjected
sarcastically. They'd all suddenly gotten defensive. "I'm sorry," Valerie told them. "We really
are glad you came here. Don't worry, there's no strings. There's a hot shower in the back with
shampoo and conditioner, shaving stuff, toothbrush and toothpaste, deodorant, mouthwash.
Whatever you need in the way of hygiene is there. There are shoes, socks, underwear, pants,
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sweaters, jackets, sleeping bags and a camping cook stove." Annie said she would make them
some hot lunches.
Before they left the Outreach, Valerie (their assigned Support Advisor) worked out a
schedule with them so they wouldn't just drop in anytime. So, every Thursday, all day, the kids
were to come in shifts. Three at a time; no mixed genders in each showering group. So every
week they came. They had an old pickup truck they would pile out of. Some people thought
they were taking advantage of the Outreach. But, sooner or later, unconditional love would
break through.
Mildred's health had been slipping ever since she broke her hip. She had always seemed
so frail. The Outreach was missing her more and more. Shirley was still grieving terribly over
the loss of Jim, and it was getting worse. She had dropped out completely from helping at the
Outreach. Now, Joyce was having serious problems at home. Her husband, Paul was very
abusive to her and had been for years, but it was getting worse. He was beating her habitually.
The verbal abuse, intimidation and fear isolated their family into their own secret hell. The
original intercessory prayer group was not there anymore, and was being replaced by people
Valerie hadn’t had a chance to get as close to. There where new people there now who were
zealous, but just didn’t have that passion the others had when miracles were happening, and it
was just a regular, expected way of those beginning Operation Outreach days.
The board of directors at Operation Outreach changed again too. The Jubilee Foundation
changed their name also to the S.G. Foundation. It was named S.G. after Stu Gill, one of the
wealthier members of the Presbyterian Church. It also seemed like Valerie was losing all her
original people that she'd had for so long at the Outreach. Things were changing so fast. Every
time the board of directors changed, and someone new came on board, that meant there was
another mind full of ideas of their own as to how Operation Outreach should be run. Valerie
didn't really know what she was doing politically and professionally.
This enormous
responsibility was growing day by day, and she seemed to be weakening under all of the
pressure.
The ministry went from a one room office to 13 rooms with 5 offices. Their mailing list
had grown from 500 to 2500 in less than 8 months. They were feeding about 60 families weekly
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(approximately 1000 individuals per month). There were nine new projects, and the garden
project had doubled. From January to April $24,007 had come into the Outreach from various
donations.
Valerie was defensive, irritable, frustrated and feeling more like a sergeant barking out
orders and constantly defending her position, rather than focusing on the only goal of just loving
and ministering to hurting people and helping to meet their needs. She was slowly isolating
herself more and more just to find some relief from all the pressures.
One morning after finishing her walk, Valerie was in her bathroom crying. She dreaded
going to the Outreach any more. It had become like a battleground. She hated being at home
with all the opposition she got from Roy and the kids, and her attitude about their attitude about
their declining lifestyle. Her new music tape, "Watercolor Ponies," expressed some of her
feelings exactly. Her children were growing up too fast, and she was so frightened. "There are
watercolor ponies on my refrigerator door and the shape of something, I don't really
recognize, brushed with careful little fingers, and placed proudly on display, a reminder to us
all of how time flies....For the pleasure of watching the children growing is mixed with a bitter
cup of knowing, the watercolor ponies... will one day, one day... one day, ride away." Valerie
had fallen in a heap on the bathroom floor with her face in her hands and she cried with a kinda
grief that she'd never felt before. Knock! Knock! Knock! "Yes, who's there?" Valerie asked
getting quickly up from the floor, wiping her face with a wet washcloth. "It's me, open the
door." It was Roy. "Why do you lock this door, Valerie, come on open it!" he said sternly.
He saw her reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror. "What's the matter? You've been
crying," "Listen to this song will you, Please Roy?” She begged him, “And tell me what it says
to you." The "Watercolor Pony" song began to play while Valerie hesitantly got in his arms with
her face against his chest. His arms were barely flopped around her, but he was listening to the
words... “And baby what well we do, when it comes back to just me and you... and the watercolor ponies, and the water-color ponies, ride away...” And they both stood there, and they
cried. They cried together like little children lost and confused and so frightened, unable to stop
what was destroying their love and their family. Two grown up adults on the outside, two little
children on the inside and neither one of them knew how to help the other one find their way.
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"You need to just be my wife, Valerie, and quit trying to save the world." She quickly
interjected, "Things were so much better when we were walking one direction, together. We
were going to church as a family and... Roy you need to lead our family again. You are the
spiritual leader of our family. Everyone is following you." "There you go again," he yelled
while instantly pulling away from her. "I'm getting so sick of hearing it. You never get involved
in anything that I like. You don't know a damn thing about my business! You should be
working with me, not at some organization that keeps you occupied 20 hours a day and doesn't
pay you one damn dime. I never was the leader. You were always taking charge with all of your
grandiose ideas that didn’t do a thing for our relationship. I'll make you a deal," he replied. "I'll
start going to church, if you'll come to N.S.O.A. and work answering the phones and helping me
out there. I'll put you on the payroll. You need to be helping me help us!"
It was a deal... they had a deal! Roy started going to church again in the exchange.
Valerie was trying to figure out what she was going to do about running the entire Outreach
organization, over the phone...
Even though Roy and the kids were going to church again with Valerie at the Vineyard in
Santa Barbara, it wasn't the same. There wasn't that voluntary-going to church to worship God.
Michael was 15 years old and a star football player, on top of being a ladies man and mega
popular. He'd seen nearly every "R" rated movie shown and rocked out at all the latest tunes. It
was like an instant replay of the artists and tunes that had been the heartbreak of their family
years before as Michelle turned her head away from all she had learned that was pure and good.
Rebecca lived and breathed Lance, her boyfriend. Valerie knew they were sexually active. Roy
walked along with it all, but like he was being controlled to do something he hated. Now,
Valerie found herself confined to the four walls at Roy's N.S.O.A. (Nationwide Satellite Owner's
Assn.) office, with no fresh air or sunshine all day long, waiting for a phone to ring that hardly
ever did, all while she was aware if newcomers with different ideas taking over Operation
Outreach.
One afternoon, a month or so into this extra job of Valerie's, Bill Brown, Marie's
husband, (Marie was on the O.O. staff) came into Roy's office completely unannounced. "I hear
you need a bookkeeper and treasurer?" he asked squishy, squashy nice. "I'm very experienced in
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this area, in fact it is one of my fields of expertise." Bill had helped at Operation Outreach, here
and there, through the years. "Would you require references?" he asked. "Heck no!" Valerie
answered. "You're our new bookkeeper and treasurer as far as I'm concerned. Here's the
checkbook." Bill was voted onto the board of directors at the next board meeting.
Valerie couldn't seem to stop the destructive force that was grabbing her children like a
claw and dragging them under into a cesspool of vomit, nor the changes that were emerging in
the Operation Outreach. She felt trapped in Roy's office and hated it. She tried reorganizing
some of his office procedures. Mistake! He had his own way of doing things. How she looked
forward to Wednesdays and food distribution day so she could be at Operation Outreach again
and be where she really loved to be.
One Wednesday, two pregnant women, in labor at the same time, were brought into
Operation Outreach.
Neither of these women had seen a doctor at anytime during their
pregnancy. Pregnant women were a first for Valerie. She knew about goats, cats, pigs, cows and
chickens. The women were able to see a doctor and get into a hospital without any problem.
The deliveries were fine with healthy babies. Operation Outreach had baby showers for the
ladies a few weeks later. A baby boom hit Operation Outreach that summer. There were
donations of cribs, strollers, baby clothes, name it, coming out of the wood works. Operation
Outreach doted like proud God-parents as these children arrived.
One woman, who spoke only Spanish,
brought in a little boy. He was 3 years old but looked
to be less than a year. He had to be carried in your
arms like a little baby; he was so weak and frail. The
Spanish woman told how the boy had been pulled out
of his mother (her sister) with forceps by a doctor in
Mexico. It had damaged the baby's brain because he
had squeezed his head so tight. The baby wouldn't
suck at first and nearly died. The Mexican doctor
said it was hopeless, and to just put him in a bush
somewhere and let him die. The only other thing he
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suggested was to feed him just cow's milk, so that's all "little Juan" ever had was cow's milk.
The mother was caught at the Mexican border by the border patrol, but her sister and Juan made
it through thanks to some Mexican men feeling sorry for little Juan after hearing the mother's
story. The mother had heard about Operation Outreach in Mexico and was bringing Juan there
for help.
Dr. Howe, a local pediatrician, volunteered his time. He ran blood work and every test
imaginable on Juan. Besides being so seriously malnourished, Juan's left hip was dislocated, his
teeth were completely rotten and he was told to be nearly brain dead by another specialist. Dr.
Howe didn't charge for a thing including the special high caloric vitamin, mineral and protein
formula he prescribed for little Juan to live on. Dr. Howe supplied it all until a foundation was
eventually set up for Juan by a dear man in their community. Money poured in for Juan's needs
soon after it hit that Thursday’s newspaper. He was sent to a rehabilitation organization soon
after. Mama and baby eventually learned how to communicate through the sucking motions
Juan made with his mouth, only to learn he wasn't brain dead after all.
Rebecca was graduating from junior high at the Santa Ynez Valley Christian Academy.
She looked so beautiful in her hose and high heels and floor length gown, Valerie's baby. She'd
be a freshman in high school. Many of her girlfriends wouldn't be following Rebecca to the
public high school in the fall.
One Saturday afternoon Valerie decided to go to the Outreach and get caught up on some
of her paperwork. Valerie hardly knew what was going on between the lines there, anymore.
She had the special monthly letters to sign. They were weeks behind schedule because she was
weeks behind. She needed to lay out their next newsletter. Valerie wanted a day to herself alone
at the Outreach, so she checked all the doors to make sure they were locked and all the blinds
were shut, so it would look as if no one was home. The answering machine was on and the
closed sign was on the outside door. She was going through some of the prayer request sheets
when the phone rang. Of course she didn't answer it. The outgoing message played and then the
incoming message began, the room filled with an eerie chill, you could see your breath in it, as a
very distinguished man's voice said loud and clear... "Valerie, Renounce your un-braved Christ,
you're going to be fed to the lion soon" She was frozen with fear. She couldn't move. The room
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was filled with a stench she'd smelled before. The room was filled with demons. She couldn't
see them, but she could feel their presence and smell them. She felt paralyzed and helpless. She
just sat there stunned, when suddenly the swinging door to the back room opened. "Valerie, hi
hey, you look sick. You look like you've seen a ghost. Hey, why is it so cold in here? It's like a
freezer. What's going on? Its 90 degrees outside. Valerie, what's wrong?" he asked again,
looking into the air as if to catch a glimpse of something. Valerie came to her senses long
enough to say, "Pray!" The moment he spoke God's Word these tormentors left. "Wow, that
was freaky," he said. "Are you going to be okay? What happened?" Valerie told him, "You
better sit down." She rewound the tape on the message machine. "Wait a minute," she said
interrupting herself, "How did you get in here? I double checked all the doors. They were
locked tight." "Not the garage doors in the food distribution room. The padlock was just
dangling open on the lock; that's why I came on in to see if anyone was here. I knew Bev
wouldn't leave things open like that," he said. "Hmm, that's weird. What were you going to
show me?" And at that Valerie pushed the play button on the machine. It wasn't as scary to her
the second time around. "We better call the cops," he said. "That sounds like a threat to me; do
you recognize that man's voice?" he asked. "No, this time I don't." "Huh?" he said. "Oh, never
mind," she told him. Valerie called the police. They came right away. She gave them a copy of
the original tape and put the original in her desk drawer. Her friend, whoever he was, and
Valerie parted and she went home! Valerie had no one to pray with her now that the original
prayer team was no longer with Operation Outreach. They were all off somewhere, licking their
own wounds.
That next Wednesday, food distribution day, while the place was packed, as usual, with
people, this very well dressed man in a suit and tie walked into the Outreach and went straight to
Bev sitting behind the reception desk. Valerie couldn't hear what they were saying. Then Bev
yelled at her, "Valerie, can this man run off a few copies on our machine? He says he'll pay for
it." "Oh, heck yes," Valerie replied. He seemed so out of place. The man smiled and followed
Valerie to the middle office where their old primitive copy machine was. There were about 10
pages that she copied for him. She didn't talk, neither did he. A lot of words on a page always
sent her eyes and mind on a freak out, so she never tried to figure out what these papers said.
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They seemed too important for their old machine. There was only one word she recognized
frequently through the pages; the word that she knew so well, "God." She was pleased to be able
to run off a few copies for him on their machine. She gathered his papers. "Thank you, Valerie,"
he said. That voice! She turned to hand them to him when his eyes met hers. They were like
knives piercing, staring into her eyes. He took his papers and left.
Valerie just stood there in the same spot gathering in her mind what had just happened.
Besides, her heart was beating so fast she had to wait for it to slow down before she did
anything. It was him! The man on the answering machine. She'd never seen him before. God,
what was on those papers she had run off on their machine? She felt so scared and alone. What
did all of this mean?
She went to her office to reflect on what had happened. A few weeks earlier Father Stacy
had invited her to go to lunch at the Mustard Seed Restaurant with him. She was very suspicious
at the time because they didn't see eye to eye. Father Stacy had always claimed that Valerie was
trying to begin a church and was taking money away from their churches in town.
She
remembers looking straight at him and saying, "Okay, Father Stacy, let's cut the crap and get to
the point." "I really didn't know who to go to but you, Valerie. I don't know if you're aware of
this or not, but a pretty good size group of people have recently moved to our Valley. They're all
well refined, middle class, some upper class. It's really strange. They all moved here at the same
time but they all have different vocations; teachers, bank people, real estate, the usual middle
class, upper class kinda stuff. Not all of them go to the same church, either. Some are at my
church. I know it sounds a little strange," Father Stacy had told her. "Are you sure they're a
group that moved here together?" she questioned. "Yes, I'm sure! They told me so," he snapped.
"So what am I supposed to do about it?" Valerie had said sipping on her iced tea straw. "They
just seem real goodie-goodie, too goodie-goodie, and they're getting closer and closer to my
congregation. Maybe I'm just too suspicious, but something is real strange about the whole
thing. I figured if they were some weird cult like we had here a few years ago, they'd all be
attending their own church; that's what is strange. They're going to different churches," Father
Stacy concluded... Valerie talked more to him about it.
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Each morning, Valerie drove to Roy's office, made coffee, dusted, took out his garbages,
turned off his answering machine and waited for calls to come in as she gazed around the office.
She was so proud of Roy, even though they were in another “reject ya” kinda week. The silence
was so thick between them you could cut it with a knife, and it wasn't over sex anymore. Roy
had always been an excellent businessman. He had brain stormed taking orders from people
over the phone that wanted to subscribe to packaged satellite programming.
He had put
N.S.O.A. together all by himself. The very same idea Roy had suddenly exploded in the satellite
dish industry, and now people with big bucks were running full page ads in a major satellite dish
magazine. Roy's little tiny article never had a chance to take off big. It seemed everything he
had touched over their 17 years together had turned, or was turning, to dung.
"Ring." "Good morning. Nationwide Satellite Owner's Association, can I help you?"
"Yes, hello," the man's voice on the other end said. "My name is Peter Mascovian. I was
looking for a Valerie Scott, is this her?" "Yes it is," Valerie replied, "Can I help you?" "I'm the
administrator of Crossroads Counseling Center in Santa Barbara and your ministry, Operation
Outreach, was recommended to me by several people. You see, we've been helping a lady for
some time now that will be moving to the Santa Ynez Valley soon. You came so highly
recommended we thought you might be able to meet with this lady. Perhaps you would be able
to continue help to her. It's just not practical right now for her to continue her therapy with us."
"Thank you, Mr. Mascovian, for the nice compliment, but you see we're not a licensed
counseling service." And Valerie continued to explain exactly what they did. "There is no
charge for lots of love, however, if you wanted to give her our number," she responded. He
laughed and said he would, and if they ever needed his organization's professional help to be sure
to call. "Well, by the way... funny you asked, Mr. Mascovian," Valerie immediately interjected.
"There is this one woman that's in a pretty serious condition." "Oh, what's the problem? And
call me Peter," he said. "She's 40 or so now and has had a real bad childhood that she'd just this
past two years remembered. All of this is affecting her marriage which is hurting her entire
family. She needs help desperately and there's really nowhere for her to go where someone
would care enough to help her," Valerie responded. "What specific thing is her problem now?
I've heard about some of your success stories, Valerie. I would think you could crack open
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nearly anyone if you had them long enough," he said laughing. "She remembers some of her
childhood, and it's like she fell into a septic tank and there's nobody to help her wash herself off.
I can't help this one," Valerie told him. "Have her call my office. I'll have one of my colleagues
set up an appointment with her. No charge. I'm fazing out slowly. My family and I are moving
to L.A. I started Crossroads several years ago, and now, we're moving. I have some very
qualified associates; they'll take real good care of her." "Peter," Valerie said. "I don't know how
to say this with all the fine things you said to me about what you've heard and all, but... I'm that
woman." "Valerie, I made this solid decision that I was not going to take on anyone else, but
leadership people..." "I'm a leader! Does that mean you'll take me on!" she asked hopefully.
"What day can you come to Santa Barbara?" he asked. "My wife, Gale, will be with me. You'll
like her. She'd been through some bad traumas also in her life."
Valerie arrived at her first counseling date with Peter and Gale and a ton of kleenex, just
in case. The atmosphere of the group of offices was real professional, and yet relaxed. A very
tall, thin, black headed man with a tender smile entered the room. "Hi, Valerie," he said holding
out his hand to shake hers. "How did you know it was me?" she asked. "I see your face in the
newspaper all the time. I'd recognize you anywhere," Peter answered. They talked 15 minutes
or so. Valerie kept looking at the clock on the table, 45 minutes left. When were they going to
get to the reason why she was there? She wasn't like the people that came to Operation Outreach
for help. You had to move slowly with them because you didn't really want them to realize you
were digging to get into their heart. HERE! Valerie wanted to just slap it out, so he could
operate on it. It's broken, cracked, bruised, blistered, splintered and even callused in a few areas,
but here she was. Fix it! Go for it!
Gale had finally gotten there. "You're very lonely, aren't you, Valerie? You've made
yourself rules to protect yourself from rejection and pain, everyone does. If you isolate yourself
away from getting too close with people, you won't risk being rejected and hurt later. Rules, like
to gain approval, you have to perform in some way," she continued. Valerie was pretty confused
with all the laws and rules, and vows, and judgments they discussed that day. She left hoping
that it was going to be worth the effort she was putting forth. She had sacrificed her time to be
committed to these sessions.
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Valerie and her family were in Santa Barbara late in July on a Saturday afternoon. Roy
had gotten all the kids into scuba diving lessons at the Diver's Den Dive Shop. Even Michelle
and Brian were taking lessons. The Dive Shop had a pool at the back of the building. All five of
them, including Roy, suited up in diving suits and gear, they were kinda cute. Of course, Valerie
went along. Roy's ultimate plan was for everyone to go diving into the ocean off his boat, the
“VALERIE JO” as soon as they all got certified. Call Valerie a protective mom if you want, but
she wasn't real thrilled about her kids diving into the ocean way out in the brine where there are
sharks and whales and electric eels that go splash in the deep. She'd heard too many horror
stories.
They'd brought their old truck and camper so that the kids could have their change of
clothes handy. They had a lot of good memories connected with that old camper. Their names
were still on their own “Cubby Holes" where they could keep their clothes in their own space
from the time they were little. They still had their original toothbrushes with their names on
them. The toothbrushes were at least 10 years old. Every corner of that camper gave Valerie
flashbacks of the kids when they were little, even the crack on the icebox door. Everyone was
nearly grown now. Michelle was 20. It was so wonderful just being together, all of them, like
old times.
Valerie felt so depressed and couldn't seem to shake it off as they drove to the beach
with their Colonel Sander's Chicken. She had practically been living in her bathroom as she
clung to her moral grounds. Why should this separate her more and more from the family she
loved. What was this preparation she was supposed to be doing as a bride? Why couldn't it be
simple?
They parked the truck in the nearest parking lot on the beach and the kids grabbed the
frisbees, football and chicken buckets and piled out the door of the camper, goofing off all the
way. Roy joined them in a game of frisbee off in a grassy area. Valerie headed for the nearest
picnic table to do something with her beautiful long fingernails. There was a lady sitting there
by herself. Valerie swung her leg over the cement bench and sat down. The lady was facing the
ocean with her back to Valerie. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" Valerie said unscrewing her nail polish
lid from the bottle. The lady slowly turned around and Valerie's heart nearly stopped. It was
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Karen Scott, Roy's ex-wife. He had left her for Valerie. With a very guarded dialogue, they
began to communicate on the surface.
Somehow, it became a little smoother as their
conversation shifted to nails. "I work part-time at 'The Finger's Touch' nail boutique as a
manicurist," Karen said. Valerie was elated. This was her opening to talk to Karen. This was
Valerie's opportunity to ask forgiveness. Was this why her nails had suddenly started to grow?
She had been looking for someone who could teach her how to care for her nails that all of a
sudden last year started growing like crazy.
Back at Operation Outreach, The Alternative Pregnancy Crisis Center had their own
private entrance and front office. They had their own statutes and their own policies, but
Operation Outreach paid for their rent and utilities, office supplies and anything the girls that
came to them for help needed. Operation Outreach provided baby clothes, maternity clothes,
diapers, cribs and even baby showers.
Donna Miller was now the organization's director.
Valerie remembered that everyone at the church had laughed when Valerie told them that Bob
and Sandy Neustadt would be getting Jim and Donna Christiansen's house one day for a home
for unwed mothers. Now, Jim, Donna and their family were moving to another location in the
Valley. Through a series of miracles Bob and Sandy took over that incredible home, along with
the three unwed mothers they already had with them. The impossible had once again become
reality.
Valerie drove on back to the Outreach. It was Saturday. The office was closed. When
she got there, there was a man and woman sitting on the ground leaning up against the front door
of the building. They looked tired and dejected. The man, Ben had been released from prison a
week earlier. She'd been living with her sister, and her sister didn't want anything to do with an
ex-con so she put her out in the street with Ben. They had no money and no place to stay. "You
probably won't believe this," Ben told Valerie, "but we spent the night in some bushes behind
town near that park down the street. We were sitting on the grass, leaned against a tree in the
park this morning, when this man came up to us and said he knew where we could get some
help.
He turned and pointed up the street and said there was this place called Operation
Outreach. The people there would help us. You ain't gonna believe this..." Then his wife
interrupted and said, "When Ben got up to his feet and turned his back on the guy to help me up
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off the ground, Ben turned around and the man was gone." "Damn, that was weird," he said.
"So, we found this place and have been sitting outside the door since this morning. We haven't
eaten since yesterday morning. Yesterday, we found some pastries from the cans behind a
bakery," he added.
"I'm so glad we found each other," Valerie told them. "There's boots, pants, shirts,
jackets, underwear, dresses, coats, pantyhose in the back of the building in our clothing room.
And there's another small building behind this one where you can shower, wash your hair, and
shave. Everything is back there; deodorant, shampoo, toothbrushes and paste, hair spray. Help
yourself to whatever you want. I'll fix you something to eat," Valerie replied. "Also, there's a
washer and dryer back there for when you need to wash your clothes in the future, and I'll try to
find you a few dollars to help you get by until we can make either a connection for a job and/or a
place to live." Thinking further she added, "Maybe, you could help me. I have some wood that
needs stacked at my house and some other jobs that I need done badly." Valerie knew she could
not stack wood with her neck like it had been.
After they showered and ate and selected their clothing needs, Valerie took them to her
house. Ben worked out great! His wife cleaned the house, but it wasn't her calling. The $50.00
Valerie needed for them was not approved by the board. All the money she had was $10.00.
She went to her jewelry box and took out the three sparkling strands of pure gold chains Roy had
given her. She'd loved these necklaces, but she never wore them. She separated the longest one
from the rest and headed to find Ben. Ben saw her approaching and said, "I'd be glad to help you
anytime with whatever you need done. You don't have to pay me a thing." Valerie knew for
sure she was to give him the necklace. She reached for his left hand. "What's this?" he asked
opening his hand. "You'll be able to get enough money to last you until you get a paying job,"
Valerie told him. "There's a pawn shop, it closes in 15 minutes. We better hurry," she said
rushing them. The last Valerie heard from them, he was working at an avocado ranch.
Valerie had forgotten her nail appointment with Karen Scott; she had been so involved
with Ben and his wife. Karen told her to come on, she had a 6:00 p.m. customer, anyway.
Valerie's mind was in turmoil.
Every week there seemed to be another person trying to
restructure things in Operation Outreach. The newcomers were diving into the middle of the
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organization and taking control. All of this kept her thoughts busy as she drove to Santa
Barbara.
"Hi, Karen, I'm sorry I'm late. I've had a full day," Valerie told her as she sat down on
the chair directly across the small manicure table. "What do you want done to your nails?"
Karen asked with a twinge of sarcasm in her voice. It was the first manicure Valerie'd ever had.
She had no idea massaging her hands and arms to the elbow was part of the package. Karen
yanked and pulled on her arm as if she wished she could hurt Valerie back somehow for taking
her husband away from her. She was abrupt and rapidly just did her job to get it over with as
quickly as she could. She was rough, rude and barely spoke to Valerie. She never looked at
Valerie in the face, but laughed rather superficially as she talked with some of her other coworkers in the room. Valerie knew that they knew, and she felt their contempt for her. It was
thick in the air like a stagnant odor. Valerie choked back the tears as Karen painfully filed her
nails. Karen hated Valerie; she could feel it. Several times she jammed the fingernail file into
her cuticle. She could feel the nerves under her fingernails throb as she hurriedly did a number
on one fingernail after the other. Karen was nervous, anxious, angry, bitter, harsh and resentful.
Valerie wanted so to build some relationship with Karen, and somehow, make amends for what
she had done after all these years. "I need to have them done every other week. Do you have an
opening?" Valerie asked.
Valerie's frustration was mounting. Everything seemed to be shifting into a different
direction. Roy's secretary had made a $200,000 mistake in his books. Her counseling sessions
in Santa Barbara were getting her nowhere. She had to quit Sansum because they had under
estimated the cost and Roy couldn't help with it. The board at Operation Outreach finally
approved the new organizational chart, with one exception.
Valerie would no longer be
considered the boss. Valerie felt a power struggle going on between her and someone, she didn't
know who. He or she was sowing discord. She could feel herself being criticized, scrutinized,
judged and mocked by a few close to the top. She could feel it happening but couldn't put her
finger on which it was. There were so many new people on the board.
The untapped treasures still continued to flow in. An alcoholic woman, a recipient of
Operation Outreach ministry, came into Valerie's office one day with two special paintings that
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she'd done for her. One, a boy with a tear, represented the pain of a homeless child. The other,
an elderly man in despair, she had done from an article on the plight of the homeless. His picture
had been in the paper. She was moved to paint him. Another man, who was addicted to drugs,
made a barn for Valerie on a special black paper that she had bought for him. He was so proud
of his art work. Like little children at play, seeking approval, they brought her their poems,
paintings, drawings and songs. As she collected these gifts, she took a deep breath as if inhaling
the fragrance of some precious rose in bloom. She felt so privileged. If she could have taken on
one more things she would have liked to have started some kind of money making enterprise for
them all, and others. She promised herself that one day she would help make a way for others
like them. They did some of the most beautiful work that she had ever seen.
These precious treasures that had been harvested by Operation Outreach reminded her of
the fields of flowers at Lompoc. They were in a blanket of full bloom right now. Farmer Jay
Fisher let them pick all that they wanted before they were even harvested. It was like being in
heaven. The gleaners picked them for shut-ins and old folks at the Lutheran home.
One Wednesday on food distribution day at the Outreach, Valerie was enraged as she
watched with her very own eyes some Mexican women dragging big trash bags of clothing from
the storage room out the door of the Outreach, bag after bag. Valerie found out that they were
selling the clothing. How could they use them so openly like this? They had the nerve after all
Operation Outreach had done to help these three families get on their feet and all. Their kids had
been sick, and they had nothing when they came to the Outreach for help. Now, they had the
audacity to take advantage of the Outreach this way. She was ready to schedule an appointment
and talk with them when the Presbyterian Youth Group, via Mildred Holcomb, invited Valerie
and her entire family to go with them on their annual trip to Ensanda, Mexico.
Volunteers had been invited to give their time and necessary materials to work at an
orphanage there called "Miracle Ranch." It took awhile to get the caravan of cars, trucks and van
of supplies and food to Mexico. They spent the night on the floor of a classroom at a junior high
midway between home and the border. Finally, they arrived at the Mexican border. Just driving
across the border didn't change the scenery any but the psyche was like stepping into the bowels
of hell. Valerie was riding in a pickup with another mother, Carolyn. Her daughter, Heather,
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had a crush on Michael so they had known each other on more than a casual basis. Valerie
mentioned to her how she could feel the incredible difference in the spirit realm just merely
passing over the border. Carolyn didn't understand. Demons, devils, spirits? It was easier to
believe in angels. Anyway, the air was thick with demonic activity. Valerie slouched down in
the seat of the pickup looking out the window. The truck windows were rolled down but the air
was hot, oven hot. No one was talking much. They were all tired. It had been a long drive. As
they arrived, Carolyn was wiping off her sweaty face with a washcloth with one hand and was
pointing with her other hand to the sign at the entrance, "Miracle Ranch Orphanage." "Well,
here we are," Carolyn said as the vehicles drove into a designated area far enough back to leave
room for a campsite. The men and boys proceeded to unload the suitcases and tents. Bill
Stephens, the youth group leader, laid out the rules for everyone. Guys were to be on one side
and gals on the opposite side....
The people that own and run the ranch have set a boundary line for the orphans not to go
past. "The orphans are not allowed in our campsite. The tree right there is the boundary line,"
he said pointing to an old bent oak tree several yards away. He also reminded them not to drink
the water.
"Come on, Valerie, help me with dinner," Carolyn said. For 30 people? Valerie thought.
She didn't come here to cook. Reluctantly she went to the van. "Where's the pots and pans?"
Valerie yelled looking into the back of the van crammed with food. "Right there in that box right
in front of you. Are you blind?" Carolyn responded. "All there is here is this little box with two
small pans, a tin cookie sheet all bent up and one knife (dull) and a spoon with holes in it.
Where's the rest?" Valerie hollered. "That's it," Carolyn yelled back. "What? We can't cook for
thirty people with just this. Where's the can opener?" Valerie asked loudly as she walked over to
Carolyn. "Here's the can opener," Carolyn said picking up the knife. "This is it. Here, you open
this can of beans and I'll start a fire." "With a knife?...A fire for what?" Valerie looked
bewildered. "For the beans, goofy," she answered. "Where's the pan to cook 7 gallons of beans,
Carolyn?
No... I'm afraid to ask," Valerie said. "Cook em' in the can," they both said at the
same time. Carolyn laughed. "Chill-out, Val, you'll adjust." Valerie helped make the cheese
sandwiches. The beans were semi-warm. The Kool-aid was the best. It was delicious!
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"Come on guys," Bill Stephens announced when dinner was finished. "I want to load the
bags for the dump back into the orange van." Valerie asked Carolyn what bags for the dump
were. She said that she would see soon enough.
"Mom," Rebecca whined, "I feel gross. Where's the showers? I can't stand this sticky,
stinky body of mine." "I don't know, ask Carolyn," Valerie responded and then..."What!" She
heard a few seconds later, "No showers!" the girls yelled, "for a whole week? Oh yuck, gross,
I'll look like a total scag in seven days, a scum ball, a total geek for sure!" Carolyn looked over
at Valerie and smiled. Soon, they all headed for where the orphans were, passing the playground
and their primitive sleeping quarters to a small church building at the far end. The children were
singing "Hallelujah to the Lord," in Spanish. After chapel, they all went to the playground to
meet and play with the kids. There was this cute little girl about 3 or 4 that instantly ran up to
Roy and motioned for him to pick her up. Roy picked up that little angel in his arms and she
threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. His big blue eyes filled with the biggest,
wettest tears. He didn't let her out of his sight the whole trip. Valerie made friends with
Mohamid, a half black and half Mexican little boy. His mama was a prostitute in Tijuana.
Mohamid loved Valerie's 35mm camera and she would let him carry it for her by the shoulder
strap on his shoulder.
Man, he thought he was totally cool.
communicating some in English.
By the third day he was
Hugs and kisses and smiles and laughter always was
understood in any language.
Every morning Valerie came out of her tent and staggered towards the coffee pot before
she met Mohamid by the bent oak tree. "Oh my gosh... whose got the roll of toilet paper?"
seemed to be the only thing anyone else ever said to each other first thing in the morning. They
were getting used to the meals and the strange ways they just seemed to improvise. They were
now using the empty kool-aid cans to scramble eggs in. They even baked giant sliceable biscuits
in those cans, with jelly or honey... yum!
On the third day Mohamid was waiting at their usual tree. "Baleria," he eagerly called
her. Valerie squatted down eye level to him. He stood there for a few seconds then gently
cupped his little hands around Valerie's face. He looked straight into her eyes and asked, "You
be my mama, okay? You please be my momma." Valerie sat down in the dirt right where she
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was squatting and pulled him close to her and hugged him so tight. "Okay, Baleria?" his longing
heart pleaded. Valerie just started tickling him to change the subject. Then they went to the
garden to pull weeds together as usual.
There had been a dry, icy coldness between Roy and Valerie. The group couldn't help
but notice. But one night, at long last, when they had all gathered around the campfire, singing
songs, Roy and Valerie's eyes met from across the pit; he on one side, she on the other. They
looked deep into each other's eyes for a precious moment, then he looked down and away.
Valerie sure would like to have roasted marshmallow for him that night at a campfire of their
own, but that stinkin' pride spoiled things. They both were infected with it.
Fourth day, no showers? For the sake of modesty no one really talked about the amount
of toilet paper they were all going through which was another major hygienic issue. No one
discussed it much until, they ran out! What was a person to do? Collect some big green leaves
before entering the little white house and hope your organic friends weren’t a member of the
poison ivy family. Someone suggested that they borrow some toilet paper from the orphanage,
but Bill announced that they didn't use toilet paper. So then what did they use?
This was the most disorganized expedition Valerie had ever heard of. No cooking
utensils, hardly any dish soap, now no toilet paper. Dragging 30 young people out into no man's
land for the first time and expect them to live like savages? When they finally drove into
Ensanda, Bill didn't buy dish soap or pots and pans, just 10 rolls of toilet paper. What's he going
to do, Valerie thought, assign three people to one roll? There's three days left. Somebody needs
to straighten this man out for the sake of the future trips with kids. Valerie guessed it was going
to have to be her.
They left town and followed Bill way out into the desert. "Where are we going now?"
Valerie asked. The back of Jake's orange van was loaded with these BLACK plastic garbage
liner bags full of, it felt like clothes. Valerie was sitting on one of them in the back of his van.
"You'll see, Mrs. Scott," Jake said. About ten minutes later their caravan turned down a narrow
bumpy dirt road. Just as they pulled off of the main road Valerie couldn't help but notice all the
little grave markers everywhere. Simple wooden or stick crosses all over about a quarter of an
acre. Then, there it was, "The Dump." The stench was awful from who knows what decaying.
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The first thing she noticed were the bony cows rummaging around in the piles of rotted,
decaying garbage.
Then suddenly, little urchins sprang up out of nowhere. The first one Valerie noticed was
a little girl about six or seven. Her hair was all stuck together and matted like a homeless
deprived dog.
everywhere.
Her clothes were filthy.
Children began running towards the truck from
They seemed to just appear.
They had been so camouflaged in the nasty
environment. Valerie could hardly believe what she was seeing. She just stood there watching
these little scavengers dig through the black bags like little rats in a garbage can. They literally
went wild grabbing anything and everything, pants that were too big, socks.
Valerie
remembered the women stealing the BLACK bags of clothes from the Outreach. Those women
had been raised in Mexico. Compassion overcame Valerie as tears streamed down her face as
she stood watching, frozen with grief.
Then suddenly this frail little voice broke the silence of her own thoughts. She looked
down in shock. This little girl, she was about 3 or so, she was looking up at Valerie. She said
something in Spanish. Valerie didn't know what. All she could do is just fall apart inside. The
little girl was obviously too small to compete with the older children for what was in the big
black bags. She just stood there looking up at Valerie. Her little blue eyes were matted and
murky looking. Flies were landing all over her eyelashes and were eating the matter that
encrusted around them. Her little face was so filthy and her smell was beyond foul, rank,
demoralizing. She bent over and pointed to her bare feet. Valerie nearly vomited when she put
her head down. The top of her head had a thick yellow crust on it, one hundred times worse than
any cradle cap she had ever seen. Tiny white worms had burrowed teeny holes through the crust
on the top of her scalp. When Valerie looked closer there were bugs in her nose competing with
the flies. Her belly was bloated like a bullfrog. She didn't say another word, just kept pointing
to her little feet. Valerie bent down to hug her, to just hold her close to her, but she frightened
her. Instead, she ran away. There's no telling what that poor baby had been through, and unless
someone rescued her and these others, they would eventually end up at the 1/4 acre piece of land
at the edge of "The Dump."
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This trip to Mexico with the impact of this little girl was a turning point in Valerie's life.
How many children like these would have to die before her dream of feeding the masses of
humanity became a reality?
Valerie was already wildly envisioning this poverty stricken dump for feeding hungry
people. She thought, bulldoze all that debris on top away and what have you got? Dirt full of
rotted, decomposed, decayed material! Compost! Bring a tractor in here to till it under, or
maybe Jim Christensen and his machine that separated debris from the dirt. Then teach these
people how to garden. They could grow their own food and sell the extra in town. There was a
gold mine under that trash. They could set up some temporary make shift lean-to houses for
shelter, and temporarily feed them while they learn and have a doctor see to their medical needs
as they taught them how to work the soil and grow their own food and become productive human
beings. As the dump slowly disappeared out of sight she whispered to her little three year old
friend, "I'll be back. I don't know when and I don't know how, but baby, I'll be back."
That night back at the orphanage was so different for all of them after their trip to "The
Dump." Valerie held little Mohamid so tight in her arms, just in case he'd never felt his mama
hold him close. The youth group kids never said another word about any of the orphans being
brats or they liked one over the other one better. They played and played with them all. Roy's
little adopted girl stayed in his arms. He choked back many a tear. No one complained about the
toilet paper anymore or lack of showers or conserving water. The next night, Carolyn and her
cooking crew made spaghetti for 30. Valerie came up with the idea of using the ice cooler for
the cooked spaghetti to keep it warm until the rest was cooked. Almost everyone got involved,
and that was even more fun. Michael, Jake and another boy came running up with "meat," a
rattlesnake they'd caught and killed. Michael and the other boy skinned, fried, and ate it; that
nearly ruined everyone's appetite.
The next morning, early, there was little
Mohamid standing next to the old oak tree waiting for
Valerie to come out of her tent. "Baleria," he called,
"come here." Valerie walked slowly to him and knelt
down so she'd be at his eye level. He knew they were
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leaving shortly. He took her left hand and opened it up and placed a tiny toy pickup truck in it.
"The best I have," he said to her. He had give her the ONLY toy he had. Mohamid hugged
Valerie and began to cry and sob. It was so sad... "You be my mama, okay?" he said over and
over again. “The magic word... please?” The next day while they were leaving Mohamid chased
after the van as it drove away, jabbering in Spanish through his sobs.... "I love you, Baleria,"
and he turned and ran back to the old oak tree waving....
It was a hot long trip back home.
When they crossed the Mexican border, the kids began to scream and yell and honk their horns,
especially when they saw those golden arches: McDonald's, Big Mac’s, fries and cokes, hot
running water... and toilets that flushed!
The minute Valerie got back into town; she contacted Grace (her Spanish speaking prayer
partner) to discuss what she had learned in Mexico about the women stealing clothing from
Operation Outreach. They met with the ladies shortly afterwards to discuss why they were
stealing. They told Grace that they sold the clothes because one of their children had to have
medicine that was very expensive, and they also had their elderly parents they were caring for.
The women actually didn't feel that they had done anything wrong. They'd seen the way the
Outreach loaded bags and boxes of clothing that they didn't want into the old green truck to be
taken to the Salvation Army. In their minds it was up for grabs. Valerie solved both the
Outreach and their problems real quick. No more giving all the extras to the Salvation Army.
They would bag and box it all up for them to sell. It was like Christmas for them.
Rebecca's first month at high school was difficult. She clung to her boyfriend, Lance,
and didn't socialize at all with any of her old friends. He picked her up for school every morning
and brought her home from school every afternoon. Her whole isolated world revolved around
Lance. She'd go into the deepest depression when it even appeared she was losing him. He'd go
out with his buddies, and she'd have this inward hysteria while he was out. Valerie seemed to be
the only family member that noticed, but she couldn't reach her. She was in her own world now
and everyone and everything was locked out unless she cracked her door open for a moment and
let you talk with her awhile. Roy said she was spoiled and self-centered, Michael called her a
brat, a geek and he teased her like brothers do. He'd annoy her to tears sometimes. They'd fight,
yell and scream at each other and Rebecca would go to her room. There she'd stay.
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Kevin Springer and his wife, Suzanne, were about to kick off their new feature of the
monthly worldwide publication newsletter called "The Vineyard."
Kevin wanted to interview
Valerie for their very first article. Valerie could slap an Operation Outreach together in two
weeks if she had the money and cooperation. If this Vineyard publication circulated worldwide,
she could instruct through the mail, if need be, to anyone willing to follow her instructions how
to care for the hurting and hungry in their communities. The publication went out on a Thursday
and by the following Thursday mail was pouring in from all over the world; Zimbabwe, Africa;
the Philippines; New Zealand, plus other countries and nearly every state in the United States
were represented. Valerie went straight to her office to pour over letter after letter, some short
and to the point, some long and more detailed, but they all wanted to know about gleaning and
how to start what they had in their own community. Valerie wrote short personal letters and
mailed it with packets of information.
Not long after that article came out, Valerie received another strange phone call from a
man named Dean Marrol. He was the publisher of a large magazine called "The Christian
Herald." He was on a trip in the mountains and was actually on top of some mountain talking to
a young woman who was there with a church group. Her name was Sherri, the very same Sherri
who researched Valerie’s past lives. The woman and he had struck up a conversation, and before
long she began to tell him about this woman that lived in the Santa Barbara county area that was
helping hurting people. He failed to ask her name, but on returning called Peter, a friend, and
was surprised to learn that he knew Valerie Jo Scott already, very will...
To top all of this off… Tom Laplay contacted Valerie less than a week later and said
several wealthy business people in the Valley were talking about buying THE SOLVANG
CASTLE for the Outreach. It was happening. It was really, really happening. The castle had
been a hotel since the lady's idea for a bed and breakfast had flopped. Valerie mentally reviewed
her vision of the Solvang Castle being used for the Outreach ministry. She drove straight to it.
The clerk took her from room to room. Each bedroom was decorated differently. There were
matching curtains and bedspreads. Some had bathrooms in the bedroom areas and the ones that
didn't had several in the hall. There were 60 or so bedrooms in all. The living room area, huge
dining room and kitchen were perfect for family food preparation, dining and sharing. There
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were office spaces deluxe; parking galore; a place for the children to play. There was even a
place for them to set up a combination barbershop-hair boutique. There was a huge room for
their clothing room. Now or later, one day this building would be the Santa Ynez Valley
Operation Outreach International Headquarters.
Valerie was elated about Operation Outreach getting the Solvang Castle given to them.
The board found a million and a half reasons why it wouldn't work out. She was now faced with
taking orders from a nightmare of different opinions.
Valerie continued to go to Karen Scott to get her nails done, even though she was still
very cold. She could tell that Karen's colleagues hated her guts. When she entered the boutique,
everything would get quiet for awhile. You could cut the air with a knife. Karen seemed to be
having a problem with loosening up a little. Valerie was hoping that she'd end up with enough
nail left on top of each finger. Karen would file the tops of her natural nails as if she had an inch
of that acrylic stuff on them, the false nails that other women wore. She scoured, scraped and
dug around into Valerie's cuticles with those metal tools that looked like something a dentist
would scrape plaque off the teeth with. Sometimes Valerie would bleed. She bet Karen was
wondering what in the world she was trying to prove by allowing herself to be abused this way.
When would Karen forgive her?
While shopping with the kids for school clothes, Valerie walked across the street to the
fat shop alone. She didn't want to embarrass the kids to have to follow her in that place. She
was now 178 pounds and her pants were huge on her. She'd lost so much weight. She had no
idea what size she wore. To her surprise none of the fat shops pants would fit. They were all too
big! She excitedly ran back across the street to Miller's Outpost and tried on size 14. It also was
too big. She zipped up a smaller size. They were a little snug, but she looked GREAT! To be
sure, she grabbed the tag, took a deep breath and looked down at it: size 12! A spontaneous
cheer of full joy penetrated every square inch of the store. She was a size 12! She wasn't fat
anymore! She twirled around looking at the back of her butt at every angle for a long time, and
felt so good about how she looked. She was so pretty, like a lady, like a lovely lady. She bought
that pretty, stylish pair of black pants... in fact she wore them home. Roy took them out to eat at
their favorite eating place, Woody's for dinner. She didn't know if they were celebrating her
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wearing a size 12 or her new outfit or if everyone was just craving barbecue ribs. She didn't
know. Roy didn't say.
Valerie got a call from Grace the first of October.
She was real concerned about
something. "There's something real strange going on, Valerie, near my home," she told her.
"For the past month or so I've been hearing this bell ringing not far from our house. It sounds
like one of those old fashioned school bells ding, ding, dinging real slow. It rings in the evenings
around the same time. I decided to walk down the street to see if I could find out what it was.
By the creek, north from our house, I found this place. I don't know what it is. A meeting place
of some kind, I guess. There's a black flag with a skull and bones on it flying and weird signs
around the property. I have a real strange feeling about it," she continued, "something evil is
going on there. When that bell rings my dogs go wild barking. What do you think it is,
Valerie?" she asked. "I don't know, Grace," Valerie told her. "I feel something evil going on
too, but I can't put my finger on what it is. It's like walking in a thick fog lately in this town. A
real heaviness that I just can't explain," Valerie said. "There's friction everywhere. It seems like
things are trying to crumble all around me," she continued. Valerie shared with Grace about the
meeting she'd had with Father Stacy over lunch, and how he was experiencing strange things
from a new influx of people.
Valerie also told Grace about the threatening call over the
answering machine when she was in the office alone. A refined male voice told her to “renounce
your un-braved Christ, you’re going to be fed to the lion soon.” That same man came into their
offices that following week asking her to run off some papers for him on their copy machine.
She recognized his voice, and his eyes were piercing cold.
Right when Valerie was on the verge of the fulfillment of a dream, she was facing fear,
doubt and disbelief among the Outreach board. Politics, politics, politics! She could feel gossip
going on within the high ranks of the organization, too. She knew it was channeled towards her
but didn't know who the instigator was. She no longer felt the cooperation of her leadership
staff. She was becoming like an outsider, and it was frightening.
Two more ministries started. One was "The Believer's Outreach Association." A list of
names and numbers needed to be compiled, so that organizations could have a referral list when
different services were needed.
This new organization was to become a networking of
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organizations throughout the Santa Barbara County, and then eventually linking nationwide, as
soon as Operation Outreach got their elaborate computer system that they'd applied for in a
grant. This would help them know where to turn for help. There were so many organizations
out there. Bill Duboise brain stormed the other idea to answer some of their homeless problems.
He was converting houses and even building a new home he called a "congragute." Each home
had several bedrooms and bathrooms in it. For instance, one congragute would be only for men.
There would be a staff person living there on the premises overseeing this home. The men living
there would work outside the home and share in their portion of the rent, utilities and food.
They'd participate in the upkeep of the house and property, and of course, sign a contract that
they will abide by the already structured rules and regulations of the residence. Perhaps one
home was for recovering alcoholics, another for recovering drug addicts, another for the elderly
men, and another for the handicapped. There could be the same homes for women in all those
categories. Also, for single moms. Their congragute homes would have huge backyards so their
children could play outside. Perhaps one of the moms would stay at home while the others
worked and they all then would pay her for babysitting the children right there at home.
The Outreach had more than tripled in size in the past few months and that meant so did
their mailing list. That was their invitation list for the gala event of the year, the festive
celebration everyone looked so forward to, "The Annual Harvest Celebration and Appreciation
Banquet." Valerie had always matched up the families (donors and recipients). Now she was
screaming inside, "HELP ME, GOD," as she just sat behind the desk at Roy's office waiting for
his phones to ring. Day after day it was the same. Bill had suggested a paid secretary, but
Valerie had just as quickly turned the idea down. Yet, she was begging God for help. She
needed it now!
Valerie took several pieces of paper out of the desk drawer and laid them side by side.
She had to get her mind organized. Then one after the other, she titled the pages, all the projects
that she had going and was personally responsible for; Garden Project, Gleaning Project, food
processing, spiritual advisors, intercessory prayer, emergency aid, public relations, Adopt-AFamily Program, Model Outreach training program, special projects, annual appreciation dinner,
Believer's Outreach, food distribution day coordination, newsletter editor, the castle project and
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on the list went. No wonder she was burning out. She then titled each paper with each family
member's name and listed her responsibilities to each one.
Michael: football, basketball, baseball games and scuba diving lessons, dances for kids at
the house (when at all possible), then she sadly realized, there was no other time she spent with
him, just him and her. Her son was growing up and she needed to be there close to him. Then
she put Rebecca's name on the next sheet of paper. Under her name was: Lance, Lance and
Lance. He was all she had going. Valerie wasn't responsible for that--or was she? She was
feeling like such a failure. All three of them, Roy and the kids, laughed or mocked her whenever
she mentioned things about God. The kids now had the same resentful attitude as Roy about
Operation Outreach and God in general. Were her priorities out of order? Or, were theirs? Roy
had stopped going to church with her not long after "their deal." On Roy's sheet she listed that
they still had the football, basketball, baseball games, scuba classes and family dinners on
Sunday. Alone, they were still going out for their Saturday night date night, but they didn't talk
to each other much even then.
Who would be good at helping her handle "The board of directors?" She remembered
someone; he just popped right into her head, "Joe." He was co-owner and operator of a stock
brokerage company. Joe and Suzanne had been over at their house once when they had a group
come over for a pot luck. They were a young Christian couple, in their early 30's with three
small children.
When Valerie showed Joe all her sheets of titled papers that she had laid out all her
responsibilities on, he was aghast! "You need a secretary!" he said in amazement. Joe said he'd
foot the bill for the initial paperwork and so on, while she was thinking about his suggestion
about that secretary. Joe took control! This highly educated, mega businessman that had college
degrees in business, financial and money management; this professional man deluxe in
administration, organization and public relations, said to Valerie, "What I want to do for you,
Valerie, is cultivate in front, alongside and in back of you with each step you take, so you can
continue planting your seeds, water your seedlings and harvest. I want to be able to assist you in
any possible way I can to help you to fulfill your dream." Valerie introduced him to the board of
directors at their next board meeting. They were impressed to say the least.
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Joe never let go of this secretary thing, however. In fact, he took the liberty to speak to
the S.G. Foundation himself on her behalf. It was unanimous with their board of directors, and
$1,500.00 a month was approved and allocated for Valerie Scott to hire her own personal
secretary. Her new secretary, Sandy Fletcher, learned real fast and had a servant's heart in the
beginning.
Thanksgiving food distribution was simply unbelievable. Hundreds enjoyed probably the
very best Thanksgiving they'd ever known thanks to the community of the Santa Ynez Valley. It
was so neat having Sandy, her secretary, and Sandy was now learning the Operation Outreach
ropes. She just gave her instructions and she carried them through. The appreciation dinner was
next on the agenda.
This year for the appreciation dinner, they planned to decorate the entire hall, where the
dinner took place each year, in Mexican decor. The Mexican people were such a misunderstood
people were. Valerie wanted the community to know just how special these people, especially
after her trip to Ensanada, Mexico. Grace suggested she, and her husband Rafael, and Roy, and
Valerie take a trip to Mexico to buy serving dishes and other Mexican paraphernalia to spruce up
the Mexican decor. She knew exactly where to trade in Tijuana away from where the tourists
shopped.
They arrived in Tijuana at 3:00 a.m. They parked the camper on the outskirts of town
and walked through town to find a restaurant. "You wanna buy my mama?" a little boy about 5
or 6 years old asked Roy as he seemed to pop out of nowhere. "You want my sister?" he said
skipping sideways next to Roy. "She's cheap." "What is that little baby doing out this late at
night? What did he say?" Valerie asked Grace. Valerie couldn't believe these poor children
were out there on the streets.
Early the next morning they hit the streets shopping for the dishes, and some sightseeing.
The Mexican kids were sleeping, and now the mothers were begging from tourist to tourist.
Valerie cashed a $20.00 bill into quarters and had a line of moms and kids following them. The
tourists were snubbing these women. Many were downright rude. Some pushed them aside as if
they were dogs. "Good thing I'm not God," Valerie said under her breath. "I'd turn you all into
cockroaches. Then I'd get me a steam roller and..." "Valerie," Grace said interrupting her
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shameful, evil thoughts. "This woman says her baby is very sick. It has diarrhea." Valerie
looked down at the bottom of the cloth that formed under the baby's buttocks. The mother's
forearm was cradled under it, and bright yellowish, green watery bowel was dripping off of her
arm; that baby was really sick! They quickly walked to a drugstore a few blocks away, and
Grace bought a bottle of Pepto Bismol. They stood on the sidewalk in front of the stores with
tourists all around and poured capfuls of medicine down this baby's throat. While it screamed
and cried that undeniable bright pink stuff was spit and gurgled everywhere. The tourists stood
around gawking, and then Valerie blew up...
They walked into a café to get some food for this woman and her children. The woman,
Angelina, hesitated as they entered the establishment. She told Grace she wasn't allowed to go
in. "You're with us," Grace told her, and they sat down at a booth right near the window.
Immediately the owner stormed over to them shaking her fist in the air and jabbering in Spanish
to get them out of there. Valerie was ready to bong the woman over the head with a hot sauce
bottle, but Grace spoke something calmly and sweet and then the wild woman smiled and calmed
down like a tame kitten. Grace ordered a large bowl of homemade vegetable chicken soup and
bread.
It was somewhat of a scam. The men used these women and children to beg and then
took the money from them later. Kinda like pimps except this was a different kind of corruption.
The women were kept pregnant because of the obvious. They'd collect the money for a few days
then would meet the men where there they would turn it all over to them. They'd have sex or
whatever with the women then sends them back into town. "Where do you sleep?" Grace asked
Angelina. "At the bus station. We all sleep together outside by the wall. We bathe our children
there. It's the only place we're allowed. There's water there, in the toilets," she told her.
Valerie couldn't leave Mexico without seeing her little Mohamid. When they finally
drove up the bumpy dirt road to the orphanage, she got out and tapped on the window of the
place where they all ate. "Baleria!" he yelled as he ran towards the door, around the corner and
into her arms. They held each other for a long time... just held one another. She continued to
write to him until she stopped getting a response, but she never lost his little truck he gave to her;
his one and only toy.
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The appreciation dinner the Outreach had was wonderful as usual. It was a full house.
The dishes Grace and Valerie had bought in Mexico gave everything that extra special touch.
Much of the dinner expenses ended up coming out of her own pocket. The board couldn't justify
material for the Mexican moms to make their children's costumes for the Mexican dance, or the
Mexican dishes, of Mexican food items or festive balloons.
Goddess and Valerie with her journal were spending more time at Happy Trails lately.
Her problems kept coming back to one thing, not taking full control of her life and doing what
she knew to do. She'd wait for Roy to take control of a situation like he should. He wouldn't
touch it. The minute she stepped in to do something about it, he then stepped in to take control
and took an opposite approach of what she had begun. Roy's real battle wasn't with her. His
battle was with God. He'd been so despondent lately; worse than ever before. His businesses
were doing anything hardly. The I.R.S. was threatening to put a lock on the System Services
business in Santa Barbara. Their bread and butter business, N.S.O.A., was rapidly on its way
down the tubes. The way he was going with this stress, the consumption of nothing but sugar
and his history of serious heart problems looked like a serious disaster was ahead. Valerie felt
like things were coming to some kind of head, transition or turning point, but she couldn't put her
finger on that, either. She picked up her journal and headed up the hill to the house with
Goddess closely behind her.
Valerie had been in counseling for six months. Week after week Gale and Peter met with
her to try to unravel her ugly past. All of their formulas had her so confused. In the course of six
months she was told, "You have no self-control, you're too controlling, you're full of pride, stand
up for yourself, follow this 10-step program, no, this 7-step is shorter, here's the workbook."
They said she had a personality type that clashed with others. They were heavy on forgiveness.
"You must forget. You're not spending enough time on your assignments. You don't pray
enough; you need to fast. Surely there must be sin still in your life, somewhere. It's not Roy...
it's you! Hour is up, see you next week," they said. Valerie felt like a freak. Why couldn't
things be simple? Why was life so hard? Who’s fault was all of this?
Valerie heard from Sherri Alexander once more. Sherri let her know that she had totally
given up on doing any writing on her life's story. She was pretty cold and indifferent to Valerie.
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Sherri had never been married, and now she was engaged to a man that she had met shortly after
the last time Valerie had seen her. Valerie asked her to send her all the audio tapes, pictures and
video that they had compiled while traveling. She said she would, but she never did. Valerie
couldn't understand why they had once been so close and now Sherri didn't want to have
anything to do with her. She had shut her off like a faucet.
Good news! Valerie was finally released from N.S.O.A. in January. Work had been
slow and they'd nearly lost their home for Christmas. They hadn't been able to afford Christmas
lights outside that year, but for some strange reason that Christmas was very sentimental to her.
She had cried as she wrapped the kids few gifts. Their presents were very few, but the Adopt-AFamily program for Christmas for the Operation Outreach families had been the biggest ever.
While Valerie had been out saving the world and trying to find herself, her babies had
grown up. She decided to start a date night thing with her kids. It scared her that they were
slipping away. The date night thing with Michael and Rebecca went okay for awhile, and then
they began to make excuses for not going. Everywhere she seemed to turn there was a brick
wall.
It was January 3, when Valerie received a notice from the board of directors of Operation
Outreach. A special meeting had been discussed and scheduled without her knowing what was
going on. She was the topic of that meeting; that's all she found out. She'd noticed how hush,
hush everyone had been lately since she'd been back at the Outreach full-time. A spirit of strife,
division, gossip, and jealousy had covered the organization like a THICK BLACK CLOUD.
She'd felt these negative vibes for sometime coming from five or six of the leadership and she
had become pretty defensive. The memo had said, "All board members and leadership staff are
to attend a mandatory meeting at 7:00 p.m., Monday, January 4th at Joe Lambert's home."
The night of the 4th, Valerie remembers walking slowly downstairs to the family room
where Roy was watching TV and sat beside him for a minute on the couch. He mostly ignored
her, but finally turned his head toward her and said, "What's the matter with you? You look
upset." How could he miss the pain in her eyes? Her heart was bleeding; didn't he know her at
all? She needed Roy to just hold her a moment before she left for the board meeting. There was
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no communication or understanding as Roy turned his face again to watch TV and had totally
missed Valerie's pleading heart....
Valerie arrived right at 7:00 p.m. Everyone was already there. Joe was the president of
Operation Outreach now, so he conducted the meeting. "I'm a little confused about why this
meeting has been called," he said. "Maybe I shouldn't be the one who presides over it this
evening. There obviously is a problem here," he continued. "Bob Stephens, maybe you should
if you know more than I do. I sense there's something wrong here tonight and I don't quite know
how to open this meeting to a topic of conversation," Joe concluded. Bob stood to his feet. "We
need to get to the point and get this thing over with. It's with my deepest regrets that I announce
some findings of the past few months to this group, of a misuse of Outreach funds and other
serous accusations that have been brought to the boards’ attention. I submit the accusations be
discussed, by each party making the accusation, to the one alleged to have committed these
immoral, unlawful acts, namely, Valerie" He said pointing his finger down at her sitting on the
floor beneath him.
Valerie must have misunderstood what
he said, she thought. Her adrenaline surged
through her body and she could feel her heart
beat pulsing in her head, her eyelid twitched.
Her stomach started churning. Her eyes filled
with tears and her chin quivered, everyone was
looking at her, what did he say she had done?
Then Bill Brown, the bookkeeper stood to his
feet and proceeded to read a letter he had
written, a letter of resignation.
He was
accusing Valerie of misusing Outreach funds,
and he read his letter.... handed it to Betty, then
looked down again at Valerie sitting on the floor, tears dripping between her fingers as her hands
covered her shameful countenance, and with a look of contempt and disgust turned and walked
out. Only God knew the depth of what Valerie's sacrifices had really been. The sacrifices were
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innumerable through the years. She had poured even her family’s grocery money Roy had given
her into Operation Outreach at times, just to help meet one more need.
It was real hard coming to the Outreach that next day after "Black Monday”, Valerie
called it. She felt as if she had been pushed out, and still she refused to budge. Thank God for
her music tapes and walking. Her ten pound weight around her waist gave her a resistance that
oddly motivated her emotions to keep on fighting for what she knew was right.
The I.R.S. was getting any extra money that Roy could get his hands on. It was like one
of those horror movies where the guy is trapped in a room and suddenly the walls begin
compressing inward. Roy was like a zombie walking around all the time. A gallon of milk in
one hand and a package of Double Stuff Oreo's in the other. Valerie finished the dinner dishes
and headed toward her safety zone, her bathroom.
She was interrupted by the phone ringing. It was Joyce Nocas. Joyce, along with
Valerie, was being bombarded from every side; her family, her ministry, her health. "Did you
know there was a group of people that moved to the Valley several months ago? It's not a
commune type of thing. They infiltrated throughout the community. They..." "Yes, I've already
heard, but why?" Valerie replied. "Some are saying that they're praying and fasting for the
destruction of the spiritual leaders in the community, their families, ministries and the ultimate
destruction of the person." Valerie was beginning to see a pattern take shape. She remembered
the vision of the black cloud coming over the community.
She and Roy's relationship had plummeted nearly to its death. Finding a $200,000 error
in Roy's books hadn't helped. The kids seemed to have turned on her (they were following their
dad), then BLACK MONDAY, and whatever was wrong with her health. She bought a few
dresses and some slack outfits at Miller's Outpost in Santa Barbara for their 18th anniversary the
next day. It felt so wonderful to be small again, just as long as s-e-x-y wasn’t part of the package.
When Valerie got home, Roy was at his desk in his office. She sneaked passed the office door to
their bedroom, trying hard not to let the bags of clothes make any noise. Roy never cared too
much if she bought herself something like a dress or whatever, but that was then when things
were bountiful, this was now. She’d slipped by unnoticed, snuck off to her bathroom and slowly
took out her new clothes. Wow! She was thin again! Valerie tried on a pair of dark green slacks
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and a cute flowered matching blouse, fixed her hair pretty and put on some avocado green eye
shadow to match. Wow, she thought, she looked great! Valerie tiptoed into the office and stood
at the doorway and cleared her throat out loud. She cleared it again louder. Roy hadn't moved
from the magazine he was reading at the desk. This time he turned around at her obvious
interruption to get his attention. "Well, what do you think? Do you like it?" she asked trying not
to be to foreword. "Yeah, it's nice," he stated, and then he turned back to his magazine. Valerie
hurried back to her bathroom and quickly changed to the pale blue dress that she'd bought. She
took off the green eye shadow and slapped on some blue. "How does this look?" she asked
again, standing at the same spot as before at his office door. He turned around slowly glanced
her way and said, "Yeah, its okay," then turned back to his magazine. She just stood there for a
minute. How she was going to ever get him to come back around.
They went out for dinner to Roy's choice, "Something Fishy," for their anniversary. For
the first time in 18 years, Roy didn't give her a music box for an anniversary present. Valerie
was so frightened. He had gotten so much worse the past year and told her that he felt like a
walking dead man. She was so in hopes for a romantic evening. They'd drifted as far apart as a
married couple could. It almost seemed someone else was in his arms besides her, as they slow
danced on the dance floor that night. Suddenly Roy's arms seemed to respond to his aching heart
through the words of Willy Nelson's "You Were Always on My Mind". There was a flicker of
change there, for just a moment. Valerie saw a peek through his walls, he did still care it
seemed. Valerie closed her eyes so tight and cried out to God to help him get the message. How
could anyone be so stubborn, so unreasonable and determined not to yield no matter what the
cost? This relationship was so fragile. Roy wouldn’t dance anymore that evening, although he
did tell her some things that helped her see the real direction of his heart....
Valerie was squeezing oranges for juice when Michelle came downstairs. Michelle didn't
want breakfast and she said nervously "I have to go," as she walked towards the back door.
"Wait a minute. Come back here. What's your problem? You were fine last night, Michelle.
What's happened?" Valerie asked. Michelle stopped dead in her tracks. "You need to talk to
Rebecca, Mom. She needs to tell you something. You two need to talk," she said abruptly.
Valerie just stood there in silence. Michelle just stood there, too, looking at Valerie. Valerie's
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stomach began to knot up with that sick kinda fist-in-the-pit sorta feeling. "What's wrong with
Rebecca?" Valerie asked quietly and slowly. "I promised her I wouldn't tell, but Mom I think
you need to know. It's awful what she's been going through all these years. I can't believe she's
had to deal with this all by herself." "Deal with what, Michelle? Damn it, quit beating around
the bush. What's happened to her?" Valerie yelled. "Sh-h-h, don't let her hear you, Mom." "Tell
me, Michelle!"... NOW! "Mom, Brian has been sexually molesting Rebecca since she was five or
six years old. She told me about it last night. She insisted I sleep with her because she was
terrified to be alone with him in the house over this weekend. I finally insisted she tell me why,
and she did. She'd never told anyone until now. Mom, she's 15 years old and has kept a secret
like this all inside, by herself, all this time." Michelle began to cry. Valerie had plopped down
in the kitchen chair in shock. She had to sit down. Then it hit her; a delayed reaction. "My poor
Rebecca. Oh God, why?" she cried. There wasn't any time for tears. "Are you going to tell
Dad? Mom... Mom! What are you going to do?" Michelle begged. "I want to know everything
she told you, Michelle. I'm going after Brian," Valerie said with murder in her eyes. Her mind
reflected back to the sweats Rebecca had worn to bed at night when she was a real little girl with
the pull string tied in so many knots she had to cut the string so she could go to the bathroom that
next morning. Rebecca had begged Roy numerous times as she was growing up to put locks on
her bedroom door. There were all those times Brian had sat so close to her on the couch while
they all watched TV......
Valerie had waited on Roy too long. Those stinkin’ movies full of sick, demonic crap
were the cause of so many of their problems. The TV had brought so much grief into their
home. She'd warned Roy if he allowed that stuff in their children's lives, he'd be sorry. He'd
even condoned it. It was like cooking a frog; little here, a little there. Roy seemed to have his
head in the sand. He always had his head hidden in the sand!
Now, Valerie knew why Rebecca had so drastically changed when she was little and had
gotten worse these past few years. One minute she was this happy, well balanced, funny,
precious little girl, but overnight she had changed. The crying, depression, isolation in her room,
she withdrew from life... all her life. Valerie got in her car and headed for Brian's house, in
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Santa Barbara, over 35 miles away. To her surprise, he was there. "Get in the car!" she told him
with fire
in her eyes..... There was no interaction between her and Brian as she pulled the car into the
back of a fast food place and parked it under a shade tree, away from people. The adrenaline
was surging throughout her body. She could have killed him with her bare hands! She could tell
he was scared of her. He'd never seen her this mad before. He wasn't a little boy any longer. He
was 19 years old and 6'2". "Are you angry with me?" he whimpered. "You're damn right I am.
I know what you did to Rebecca Brian. You ruined her life!" she screamed clinching her fists,
holding back with all of her might from ripping into him. In a split second Brian's hands were
over his face in guilt and shame. He became hysterical. It was as if a dam had broken. "I'm a
terrible person," he yelled. "I'm no better than those perverts in prisons that rape and molest little
children," he cried out loud in a shrill, piercing voice. He shook his head violently with his
hands still hiding his face; his nails clawing into his skin. "I deserve to die, I'm no good," he
screamed.
Valerie was aghast at Brian's release of self-condemning emotion; she hadn’t
expected this at all. Suddenly she didn't know what to say. Brian’s hidden pain was gushing out
in gut-wrenching reality. He had lived in a hell of his own that no one had even noticed. Valerie
knew that if Brian jumped out of the car and ran, that she would not see him again... alive. What
Valerie told Brian that day shocked them both. It all came CRASHING DOWN!....
"102 to
107, come in." It was Roy. "I don't know what you're doing right now but we need to meet
somewhere right away. I need to talk to you," Valerie insisted, still devastated. "Okay, where
are you," he asked. "I'm on my way over the Pass. I should be in Santa Ynez within 35 minutes.
Meet me at the Greasy Spoon Café in Santa Ynez in 40 minutes." "Okay, see you there, 102
out." "107 out."
Valerie punched the accelerator to the floor. Her car had been a lemon since they'd
bought it for her Mary Kay business in 1980. They got it so that she could look successful.
There had been one thing after the other wrong with it in the past 8 years. Now, she had a
heating up radiator problem. Instead of Roy just fixing it when the problem first began, he let it
get to where it affected other parts of the car, and now, the whole thing was falling apart piece by
piece. Roy said it was a lemon. An overhaul wouldn't remedy the situation. It was just about
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ready for the junk yard. It made her mad to think about the strange similarity between this junky
car and Roy's and her relationship. As she worked her way up the Pass's winding roads, she
watched the temperature gauge rising. Hotter and hotter. The radiator was soon boiling! If she
could make it to the top of the hill, she'd put the car in neutral and just let it coast downhill. That
would cool it off some until the next hill. Yep, that was like Roy, too. Let’s just blame it all on
to him, she thought to herself. How many times had he bitched and griped at her about just
leaving everything up to him. Over and over again, she had trusted him to do the right thing, but
he didn't. His disinterested and detached attitude was why this car had become what it was and
the same with their relationship... and the same with all of the kids. It wasn't a lemon. It never
was. It was just flat out... neglect! She was fed up, fed up with Roy's colorless dreams and
passive way of thinking. Talking about her living in a dream world! At least her dreams had life
to them, some substance.
When she turned off the engine to the car in front of the Greasy Spoon Café the radiator
boiled over all over the dirt ground. Roy's truck was parked out front. “This car isn’t the only
thing boiling!” Valerie said to herself as she slammed the car door shut and stormed into the
café’. She sat down at the small wooden table where he was sipping on a cup of coffee, and she
proceeded to tell him from the beginning what had happened with Michelle letting her know
what had been going on, and about her talk with Brian. "What are we going to do about this?"
she asked him. "I guess I need to talk to Brian and find out exactly what he did," Roy answered.
Valerie tried to reason with him that Rebecca and Brian both needed counseling, or something,
and they could all work this out together if he would lead them towards healing solutions. She
didn't get far. Roy wouldn't look her in the eyes. His head was hung down as he stared into his
reflection in his coffee. "I'll talk to Brian, Valerie, that's what I'll do." Valerie knew that was
final for now, but it better not be the end of it all.
As Rebecca opened the sliding glass door when Lance brought her home from school that
day, Valerie anxiously responded to her presence, "Hi, honey, did you have a good day at
school?" "A... yeah, it was okay, I guess," she said as she walked past Valerie to go up the stairs
to her room. She looked so forlorn. "Wait, Rebecca, can we talk a minute?" She had a cold, lost
look in her eyes. She hesitated for a moment then turned away. "I gotta do my homework."
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"Please, honey..." "Later, Mom." "Rebecca, I know... Michelle told me what has happened to
you," Valerie blurted out. Rebecca gasped and then broke into a cold run and double-stepped all
the way to the top. She slammed her door shut and Valerie left her alone. Rebecca had shut her
out, even though Valerie wanted and longed to be there for her now, she longed so much for
Rebecca to let her be there for her now....
"Hi, Mom, what's up?" It was Michael. "What's there to eat?" he said in one sentence
while opening up the fridge door. "Is Rebecca home yet? She's such a lamebrain," he said,
pouring himself a glass of milk. "You need to knock it off and I mean it! Valerie barked. "So,
what's wrong with you? Gad, excuse me for living'!" he snapped. "Quit being such a smart
mouth, Michael," Valerie told him. Then he snapped back, "You know, I get kinda’ tired of
everyone always pickin' on me. Rebecca can do no wrong! She walks around here like the
world owes her a living. This whole place revolves around her. All I did is come home from
school and I've got you jumping on my butt," he yelled. His eyes turned cold like Valerie had
never seen in her son’s eyes before. He made a peanut butter sandwich, grabbed his glass of
milk and walked passed her, slightly, but firmly bumping her arm as he passed. "You know
something, Mom… sometimes you really piss me off."
Valerie wandered around the house for awhile in a daze, in disbelief. She never would
have dreamed it would have ever come to this. Then she headed for her sanctuary and shut and
locked the bathroom door. She must have cried herself to sleep on the bathroom floor, as she
was suddenly awakened by the phone ringing. It was a volunteer woman at the Outreach that
held Bible studies there on Wednesday evenings, named Shirley Caesar. They agreed to meet.
At the coffee shop Valerie poured her guts out and asked if Shirley knew why everything was
falling apart all around her. Shirley listened to Valerie and then summed it up in a nut shell. She
said Valerie had a "spirit of strife" on her. Valerie immediately took offense. Then she calmly
explained how the enemy will attack the leader and contaminate everything from that point.
“What about Roy and his responsibility?” she asked. He’s not walking with God, you are. "I'm
not trying to blame you, Valerie. Don't be offended by what I said. If you wanted to bring
something down, wouldn't you attack the head? You wouldn't mess with the tail, now, would
you?" she asked. The battle and conflict Valerie was in was a full scale war but she felt like she
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was still in boot camp and was too unskilled to get through it. How could Valerie bare to take all
the blame for everything?.....
That night Valerie didn't know if Roy had talked to Brian or not. He didn't say. Things
were hush, hush again, under the rug, in the closet. Everyday, Rebecca went from her room, to
school, to her room, to work. Michael wasn't speaking to her much, and Roy just watched TV all
the time he was home. For Valerie, everything began and culminated in her bathroom. She lived
in her bathroom; hoping, dreaming, and praying.
She was at Operation Outreach when a young woman came in. "Do you remember me?"
she asked. Gee, she looked so familiar. It had been years since Valerie had seen her. It was
Nancy. In her hand was a plate, a piece of Valerie's china. Valerie had fixed her and her
boyfriend's lunch and served it to them on her china. Then Nancy told her, "I saved this plate all
through the years to remind me that when things got down so far that I thought I couldn't make
it, that you said I could. I could keep on going as long as I had faith in God," she told Valerie.
She took Valerie by the hand and led her outside. In the parking lot was her brown van. The
same one that Valerie had helped her get, so long ago. She opened the back doors. Inside there
were blankets, boxes of used clothing, some shelves with audio tapes, a hot plate, some boxes of
canned goods and shoes neatly lined along the wall from tiny tot sizes to men's work boots. "I'm
doing what you do, Valerie, only a lot smaller in a lot of ways. I share with lots of hurting
people,” Nancy told Valerie. "Do you go out into the streets by yourself?" Valerie asked. "No, I
have angels all around me," she responded. As Nancy got in the van, Valerie just stood in the
street as she watched her drive out of sight, almost wishing she was going with her. No board of
directors, no budget, no bank accounts. Sandy came out to the curb where Valerie was standing
there and in a mocking sorta way snickered, "she's quite a fanatic, isn't she, with all those
scriptures written all over that old van. I never really like that sort of thing." Sandy's remark
wasn't worthy of a response. Valerie had just seen one of the most beautiful jewels in God’s
treasure chest, wonderful, precious and valuable. Nancy had been a prostitute when Valerie
brought her into her home and helped her get her life together. Now, she was one of those,
"treasures out of darkness" kinda’ people....
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Valerie had a harder time than ever before concentrating, retaining and assimilating
information. She felt like confusion was ever present and seemed to only be able to do things
she did repetitiously since she got to feeling this way. Any new information or learning new
things threw her in a state of panic because everything went BLANK. She had felt this way
before in her life, but it hadn't happened since she was a little girl, spaced out and unreal. To top
all of this off Gale and Peter, her counselors, moved away. They handed her over to Greg
Caruso, pastor of the Vineyard Church in Santa Barbara that she attended. Valerie hated to be
rude, but she didn't seem to be going anywhere with this counseling junk. Everything said to her
so far, seemed to her, to be mis-diagnosed.
Valerie drove down the driveway slowly that evening after a counseling appointment
with Greg. She'd gotten the mail out of the mailbox at the end of their driveway and was
thumbing through the bills while thinking about their meeting. The car window was down.
Suddenly Valerie sensed someone was there next to the car. She jumped. It scared the heck out
of her. "Rebecca, honey, you scared me. Why didn't you say something?" she asked jokingly.
Rebecca just stood there stiff, and then Valerie noticed she was shaking like a leaf. "What's the
matter, honey... Rebecca?" She didn't answer her, but just stood there with this look of horror in
her eyes. "Rebecca, answer me... Now! I can’t help you if you won’t answer me, what's
wrong?" Finally she began to respond with a whimper. Valerie grabbed her and held her tight in
her arms. As soon as she did Rebecca became hysterical. She still wouldn't talk, so Valerie had
to ask questions. "Was it Lance?" She whined and nodded no. Through many questions and
Rebecca's nodding, Valerie found out someone, a man, had come into the house. Rebecca’s out
burst of crying released some of her fear, but still she didn't speak. Valerie called the police.
The police arrived at the time Rebecca had just finished telling Valerie what had
happened in the house that day, all of the gory details..... The detective and policeman that
weren't asking Rebecca questions, went outside to join two other cops that were there looking
around for footprints and anything else they could find.
Josh and Ginger were barking
uncontrollably. "We have a problem here," he announced. "What do you mean?" Valerie asked.
"Well, there's no footprints outside, and your daughter said the dogs didn't bark. They've been
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going wild barking ever since we drove down the driveway, and they're still barking." "What are
you trying to say, Rebecca is lying?"
"Mrs. Scott, has Rebecca been through any traumas lately?" "Why yes, as a matter of
fact she has," Valerie answered. "What?" he asked. "Well, we just found out two weeks ago that
Rebecca's half-brother, Brian, had been molesting her for years." "You don't know the last time
he touched her or what he did to her?" he asked. "I told you... I don't know anything else." Oh
no, now there was really going to be a mess, she suddenly realized.
"I need this boy's name,
address and phone number." "What!" "It's the law, Mrs. Scott. He has to be brought in for
questioning, and as far as today is concerned, I don't believe it happened."
The cops then took Rebecca in the other room away from Valerie. The detective talked
to her less than 10 minutes, and then he motioned for Valerie to come to where he was.....
When they were gone Valerie asked Rebecca what he had said to her. She said the
detective told her that if she didn't admit the truth he was going to have her hauled off to juvenile
hall and lock her up away from her family and everyone.
Roy, Brian and Valerie went to the police department the next day. The policeman
questioning him asked what he did to Rebecca. Brian said, "Nothing, really. I was young."....
The officer asked him, "Was it mostly just curiosity?" Brian replied, "Yes, that's all it was."
Roy looked relieved. “That's all they're going to ask him?” Valerie thought as she watched this
three ring circus of performers. Brian passed the hot seat with no sweat. Everyone smiled and
laughed and joked around as they left; everyone except Valerie. Things never got any deeper
than the surface, that's where the facades were, the false and superficial. The pretending, as if
nothing happened. Roy took Brian back to Santa Barbara, and then went on to work. Didn't
somebody owe something to Rebecca? Again, no one spoke of this... again!
The phone rang at the house one Saturday morning. Valerie was surprised to hear from
Suzanne Springer, Kevin's wife, the writer that was doing an article on her and Operation
Outreach for the Christian Herald Magazine. Somehow, through the grapevine, Suzanne had
heard about the problems that Valerie was having with inner healing of the past. Greg Caruso
probably spilled the beans, confidentially, of course. Suzanne informed Valerie that she had
registered her and had even bought her ticket to a huge seminar the main Vineyard Church in
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Anaheim was putting on. These were one week workshops on various topics geared to help
women overcome problem areas in their lives; Workshops such as motherhood, abortion,
adoption, infertility, working women, wives, mothers, rape and incest victims, and other topics.
The one she had signed Valerie up for was a workshop for rape and incest victims. She said she
and Kevin would like her to stay at their home during the seminar.
It was quite an impact the first day hearing 1200 women blend their voices in praise and
song at the gathering at the beginning of the day.
Valerie was impressed with the way
everything was organized. The three ring binders that were handed out to each of the ladies were
very professionally put together. Valerie walked into her workshop class; the incest, rape victim
class, and grabbed an aisle seat by the exit door. Suddenly, here they came through the door like
someone had opened a floodgate; old women, very old women, young women, very young
women; fat, skinny, black, white, brown, yellow, ugly, pretty, rich and well-groomed, poor and
somewhat derelict looking. The room was soon filled, completely filled! From the first to the
final day, Valerie's workbook and three ring binder was nearly full of useful information that
she'd taken. She had taken lots and lots of notes as fast as she could write, so she could teach it
later... forget about her own need to be free.
They announced that morning that all the women in the class were going to be led
through a deliverance of those hideous past experiences and memories, and they asked all of the
women to close their eyes. They told the ladies to begin to concentrate on what had happened to
them and go back to those moments in their minds and let themselves feel the emotions. "Cry
ladies, over the loss of that precious, irreplaceable childhood. Feel those emotions now that you
never were allowed to experience,” one instructor said with compassion. Valerie could feel a
battle raging inside of her, but was jolted back to reality by the sound of one woman's sobbing,
and then another began to weep, then another sobbed quietly, then another and another. Within
moments the gentle sounds of sorrow transformed into an outburst of blood-curtailing screams,
and it was building momentum. Any moment and the sounds of these grieving, wounded women
would be deafening! Valerie was looking about overwhelmed with all that was going on around
her. She turned quickly to check on Annie, who had come with her to the seminar. She had her
hands over her face as if she were filled with shame and didn’t want anyone to see it. Annie was
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sobbing. Valerie quickly put her arms around her and held her close. She wished that she could
have gone around and held all the women one by one. Strangle, Valerie was the only one in the
large room full of women that wasn't crying. After about thirty minutes it seemed, the instructor
directed the ladies into the next phase. She told everyone, "I want you to pick up the little girl
that was who you were when the trauma first happened to you. You can see your little girl in
your mind at the age she was back then when it happened. She needs the woman you are now to
accept her, to love her, to let her be free and safe now to catch up emotionally with the mature
woman you are spirit and body. This underdeveloped soul part of you must be accepted."
Valerie looked around the room filled with women, and she couldn’t believe what she was
seeing. Women were picking up air. While their eyes were closed, they were reaching out in
front of themselves. Some of their hands were farther apart then others indicating the size of the
child's waist. Some of the women reached straight across for their child, some reached within a
foot or so from the floor, some straight ahead. Some got off their chairs, on to their knees and
scooped their child up as if they were picking up a little baby. Valerie was not feeling a part of
anything that was going on. As she looked around, she was feeling closed in, trapped like a
cockroach in a can.
It all seemed so stupid for her to be there as a victim of anything. She
should be helping these poor, hurting women; this was her thing, helping hurting people.....
Suddenly, a couple of instructors came over to Valerie and squatted down at her eye
level. She knew the technique. "Are you all right, Valerie?" one asked. “Of course I’m okay,
why?” She replied, trying to keep her composure so that she didn’t look at all like any of these
other women that were so out of control. All these other women were screaming and nearly
convulsing awhile ago, and she's asking her if she's all right? "Valerie, there's a few of us that
would like to pray over you if you'll let us, after the meeting." The instructors went up front to
dismiss the class.....
Valerie looked calm and cool on the outside, but she was in full scale war on the inside.
This monster that lived in the darkness there for as long as she could remember was stirring...
“S-h-h-h-h, please just leave me alone.” Valerie begged inside of herself. It was also like three
voices or three personalities arguing with each other inside there. There was this child in there
all right about 6 years old or so. Valerie has seen her often. She was a wimp; shy, withdrawn,
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frightened, inferior, crying out to be listened to and understood, that was little Valerie Jo. This
other personality seemed loving, tender, somewhat of a doormat at times, peacemaker/people
pleaser, a “goodie two shoes” sorta person. And then there was... THE BITCH! If anything
looked as if little Valerie Jo was going to get to spill the beans on what happened to her, or if it
looked as if there was a danger of anyone getting to close to the truth, the BITCH would begin to
foam at the mouth.
The instructors (pretty, all dressed up in their Sunday best/ Gloria Copeland lookin’
kinda’ ladies ushered Valerie to a room down the hall and shut the door. They sat Valerie in a
chair in the middle of the room and began to pray and cry, which steadily got louder and louder.
Valerie seemed untouched by the situation but closed her eyes, just out of respect. As she did, a
picture opened up in her mind. She saw water. It was crystal clear like glass. No movement
whatsoever. All of a sudden the water began to swirl like a whirlpool. She followed the
whirlpool with her spirit down, down; down as it went until she realized that it was going into
nothingness, endless. She did this three times. She then noticed a figure standing at the left side
of a huge toilet with a tiny flusher. It was Jesus, and he was picking up small handfuls from a
gigantic pile of something and flushing it in the toilet. Around and around the water swirled. He
was getting rid of that nasty pile one handful at a time. Valerie inquisitively wondered if there
was enough water. He then showed her the ocean to back it up. Holding his right arm out to
display this massive body of water, he said, "I have an ocean of love, all it will take to flush this
HUGE mountain of pain and suffering away, one handful at a time."
The women had finished praying. "This wasn't a deliverance for you like those other
women went through, Valerie. Something else very special happened for you today. God had to
use six people to take some of the pressure you've been carrying off of you," she told Valerie.
"God is going to complete the work a step at a time.".....
It was Friday night. Roy and Valerie had gone to bed at nearly the same time. There was
a pillow in between them. She used the excuse it helped her back to lean against it. She slept as
far to the edge of the bed as she could without falling out. Every night was the same. They laid
in bed together but were a million miles apart. Saturday morning she couldn't get out of bed
early before he awoke like every other morning. Valerie laid there consumed in dread and guilt.
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Saturday morning came just like clockwork. She laid there like a manikin and faked certain
sounds like she'd seen done in the movies, all while she thought about what she was going to fix
the kids for breakfast and did she remember to put a stamp on that letter she put in the mail box
the evening before. When it was over and here came the guilt. Roy got out of bed feeling
empty, like he had been serviced. She lay there feeling empty, like she had just serviced him.
He left without even a goodbye. Valerie tucked his pillow close to her, wrapping her arms
around it tight. She could smell his aftershave on the pillow where it was safe to love him from
this position. Like water evaporating in the sun, Roy's and her life together was disappearing
like a vapor and she couldn't seem to stop it no matter what she did. The walls around Roy's
heart were growing thicker and thicker and the key to all of this was buried somewhere inside of
him, or was it all Valerie’s fault like he believed?
Someone called Valerie one afternoon at the Outreach to tell her something she'd heard
from a couple of other people within the Christian circle in the Valley. She said she was told
there was a group of Satanists in the Valley. Their numbers were growing. They were praying
and fasting and even doing animal sacrificing. The police were finding cleared areas back in the
hills where animals had been killed and dismembered. An obvious ritual of some kind had been
performed. It was for the destruction of the pure Christian leaders and followers of God in the
community.
Valerie was at the Outreach office when Bill Duboise came in to see her. "I have a friend
that has a serious problem," he said. Valerie could just about bet her next months allowance that
the next thing out of Bill's mouth was... "He has a 'spirit of lust.' He's been kicked out of the
church’s single group for womanizing." "He's also hooked on pornography," Valerie told Bill.
"How did you know?" he asked with unexpected surprise. "It's all connected. Why do you want
me to talk to him? You men should be handling this sorta thing. It's not a job for a woman. I
tried to help a man out about eight months ago that had this problem. The guy pinned me up
against the office wall; if it hadn't been for Grace and Beverly standing by my office door
listening, I think the man would have assaulted me," she told Bill. "I wouldn't leave you alone
with him. This man came to me begging for help," Bill told her. There is no one to talk to him
but you. "Okay, where is he?" Valerie asked. "He's in my car."
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The man told Valerie how he began to dabble in soft-core pornography several years
before. He was married then. Their children were small. Then a construction worker introduced
him to Playboy. He said he used to masturbate while looking at the pictures of naked women.
Penthouse was the same. By the time his children were in junior high he was hooked on harder
porn, more graphic material. He'd pulled away completely from his relationship with God. He
and his wife's sex life had declined. His oldest daughter became his secret victim as she ran
around the house in her panties and bra looking for her lost hairbrush one day. He left his wife,
and lost nearly everything. He had been molesting his daughter. "I've demoralized everything I
ever loved. What am I going to do? Please help me," he begged.
"If you acknowledge what you have been doing and you are honest with yourself and
God, He’ll forgive and cleanse you. We can help to deal with the demons that have had you
bound, but you have got to do your part. You still have a lot of responsibility. You have to get
rid of every porno magazine you own; all sexual paraphernalia, tapes, videos and whatever else.
You know what you have," Valerie said. He agreed to follow through. "You also need to ask
your family for their forgiveness, not just, ‘I’m sorry” either. When you see what you have done
to those who have been hurt by you, one of the fruits of that is a broken and repentant heart." she
continued. “You hate your sin, and you are truly hurting inside for anything you have done to
damage anyone.” He went home that day and gathered his hundreds and hundreds of dollars of
pornography material together and burned it. He burned it all... all but one! This one was the
leaven that contaminated his turn around. The last thing that Valerie heard was that he had
moved away, a tormented man... with his daughter.
I was late that day after this contact; Valerie rushed home to start dinner. Rebecca had to
go to work at the pizza place in Solvang. Michael had football practice. Roy, Michael and
Rebecca were in the kitchen talking. Suddenly, her eyes came in contact with a magazine on the
table in the dinning room. The cover sent her mind into a rage. She opened it up to the first
page, then the second, third, fourth, fifth. "What in the hell is this magazine doing in my home!"
Valerie screamed at Roy. She was seething with anger and shaking all over. "Chill-out Valerie,
it just came in the mail, don't get so excited," Roy said laughingly. "It's only the swimsuit
edition of the Sports Illustrated Magazine. What are you so mad about?" he added. Michael,
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Rebecca and Roy all smirked and mocked her. They looked at each other like Valerie was some
kinda freak or something; that only made her madder. "Roy, some of these near naked little girls
in here are Michelle's age, any of them could be your daughter." Valerie said leafing through the
magazine, repulsed at what was there and how degrading this was to any of them. "I won't have
this trash in my home, Roy. I hold you responsible for what you've allowed to come into this
house!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, as she threw the magazine into the flames in the
fireplace. Valerie went to the bathroom, slammed it and locked the door. "Please God, I don't
know what else to do," she cried sobbing. Valerie prayed and cried out to God for hours it
seemed. Suddenly three words broke the grieving she was in and they seem to echo in her soul,
"Enough is enough!" Valerie got up off the bathroom floor, opened her bathroom door, walked
through the bedroom through the living room, down the family room stairs and straight for the
TV set Roy was watching. She started to kick the glass out but changed her mind and kicked the
button in instead to turn it OFF. She turned to Roy. He was slouched down on the couch. He
didn't move. He just sat there. "Roy, you know you have a serious decision you need to make,
don't you?" she said firmly and straight faced. He sat there looking straight ahead. Then he
lifted his eyebrows and looked up at her and said defiantly, "yes... but I'm not going to do it."
Valerie stood there in disbelief for a few moments longer as they looked into each others eyes.
This was it! They both knew it. This was the last time. She turned around and walked back up
the steps through the living room; into the bedroom, grabbed her purse, her makeup bag and a
jacket. Suddenly her heart gripped like it was making a fist and a lump in her throat nearly
gagged her when she tried to swallow. This was it, could she really do this? On the way out of
the sliding-glass door Michael was coming home from football practice... "Where are you going,
Mom?" Michael asked nonchalantly. He had just come home from practice, like every evening
before supper. His football helmet was under his arm. "I'm leaving Michael," she said looking
deep into his eyes as she passed and slid the door to the side. "What do you mean you're
leaving? Mom, Mom... answer me!” He said in panic. “Your joking right? Come on Mom, this
isn’t funny, Mom...” Valerie just kept walking to the car. Michael’s cracking voice echoed as a
scream in her mind. “Don't go... Mom, please Mom...! I’m sorry if I did something to make you
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mad." he said screaming. Valerie just kept walking. She could still hear Michael calling her
name as she drove up the driveway. "Mom, please, Mom please... don't go!"
Valerie couldn't believe that she was actually leaving. She'd just left her family! As she
drove up her gravel driveway she screamed out loud at the top of her lungs, "Roy, please don't let
me go!" Her tires spun on the gravel as she pulled onto Highland Road. She watched the front
door of the house intently driving past, hoping with all her heart Roy would come running out
screaming her name like Michael did when she was leaving... but he didn't.
Her heart felt as if it were thumping out of her chest and her mind was filled with
confusion and doubts. Maybe she had been too hard on them. The guilt overwhelmed her. She
drove to Shirley Caesar's and they talked and prayed for hours. Shirley said she'd love to have
her stay there with her, but she already had another family living there.
The next day Valerie drove to Shirley Chandler's house. She wasn't home. Then to
Grace’s, no one answered. She drove by the Outreach without stopping. Then she suddenly
remembered their camper under the eucalyptus trees. The kids were in school. She drove back
to the house with her broken emotions and all the while hoping and praying the family would
meet her at the end of the driveway and hug her tight letting her know they wanted her to come
home now. How could they possible live without their Mom? How could Roy live without his
wife? Who would cook breakfast and who would make sure everyone’s needs were taken care
of? Maybe she should just go on in the house and act as if nothing happened. No, she had to do
this, Roy would come to his senses and the kids would know what they were missing with Mom
not at home as usual. They wouldn’t be able to stand it for long without Valerie there; she
fantasized while snatching some ice out of the freezer for the old icebox in the camper. She got a
loaf of bread, some lunch meat and a few other food items. Valerie had found homes for so
many, not knowing that one day she'd be in the same shape. "B-y-e," Sasha said as she walked
out the door. That evening she backed her camper down the left side of Judy Jacobs’ driveway
and plugged it in. Judy lived in Los Olivos out in the country, right next to Valerie's favorite
walking place, up the hills to the top, overlooking the wheat grass fields where the soft breezes
blew and the hawks soared freely in the clear blue sky.
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Every morning Valerie would wake up at 5:00 a.m. and put on her walking shoes, waist
weight belt, sweat headband, arm weights and tape player with ear phones, and walked all the
way to the mountain and up to the top, praying all the way. She was determined to continue to
fight for her family’s life. Word had gotten out that she had abandoned her husband and
children. The Christian speaking engagements had stopped.
Rebecca wasn't taking Valerie's absence well at all. She missed her mama. Valerie had
been in the camper only a week, when Rebecca ran away from home. She was sitting in the
camper one day when she got there. "I'm not going back home," she yelled. "I can't stand being
there since you've gone, Mom. Please don't send me back," she begged. There wasn't room in
the camper for both of them, so Judy's son gave up his bed for her to sleep in the house. Valerie
didn't know how long this would last. She just lived one day at a time. She started going go
Jazzersize classes in Solvang three days a week. She still went to counseling three days a week.
Rebecca had her swim meet classes three days a week plus her job. Her popularity within the
management at the Outreach was at an all time low. S.G. Foundation approved the grant for the
greenhouse for the garden project, and United Way approved $35,000 for the Macintosh
computer system. Mr. Merrill canceled the Christian Herald Magazine article that was going to
be published just that very month. Valerie was labeled a fake and the Christian community put
on her Scarlet Letter for all to see. The Operation Outreach body was dying from the inside out.
It was losing many key people. Betty had collapsed one afternoon while shopping and was
rushed to the hospital. It was her heart. She had been responsible for the garden project. Since
Bob had left her, the beautiful house they'd built together as a family, and raised their children in
together, had become her tomb. She had grieved and grieved in agony over all the loss of all she
held so dear. The vision of the scary black cloud, and the thin child with the spear in the chest,
nearly a fatal blow, was all happening. Roy had told Michael that "your mom and I are getting a
divorce." Michael ran up to his room and cried his eyes out. Valerie never dreamed Roy would
let go of her so easily.
March 9th, Shirley Chandler and Valerie went to a convention together in L.A. in Joe
Lambert's Mercedes-Benz. Her car had broken down, finally. It heated up too much, too often,
and finally bit the dust for good. The three day spiritual warfare seminar was great. Valerie had
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on her pretty blue and white silk dress with the handmade crocheted collar she'd loved so much
when they stopped for lunch at Denny's on the way home. The collar always had made her feel
special. She had paid two hundred and something dollars for it. They were eating when a
woman came into the restaurant. She was one-a them "street people, bag lady" types. Valerie
was watching this woman as she walked up to the cashier counter timidly and asked for a cup of
coffee. Then she heard the big loud voice of Denny's manager say, "no, you can't have a cup of
coffee. Get out of here! You're stinking up the whole place. Go on, you dirty bum, get out of
here," the man demanded. Valerie had Shirley hush talking so she could listen. "I can't eat
anymore. Come on Shirley, let's go catch that woman. I want to give her the rest of my
sandwich," Valerie said, quickly wrapping the other half of her turkey sandwich in a napkin.
They both got into the car and started looking. Finally Shirley spotted a lady sitting on a curb
next to a gas station nearby. "Is that her?" she said pointing towards the woman. "Yes, that's
her," and Valerie pulled in far enough away so that the woman couldn't see the car and be
offended.
She was just sitting there clutching an old knapsack. Valerie sat down next to her.
"What do you want?" she barked. "My name is Valerie. I feel like there's something I can do to
help. I saw you at the restaurant," Valerie said holding out the turkey sandwich. She took the
sandwich and while eating said, "I'm Laura Wilson." "How come you're living like this Laura
Wilson?" Valerie asked. "I used to be married. I had two children; they're grown now. I used
to be a teacher; I taught English Lit. I had a home and a dog."... "Give her your collar," a still
small voice told Valerie. "My collar?" Valerie argued in her thoughts. She was mentally
battling with herself and God about doing so. The woman went on to say, "I used to have a
pretty collar almost like that one you have on. I really loved it. My husband bought it for me."
That was it; Valerie slowly took off her beautiful collar and slowly placed it around the woman's
neck as if she were awarding her with a special honor. "This is from God to you, Miss Wilson,"
she said. As Valerie took the ends of the collar together and pinned them with the cameo pin that
Mildred had given her to pin it with the first time she wore it, the woman (Laura Wilson) began
to cry with a combination of sadness and joy. "You look... you look like a monarch," Valerie
told her. "Do you mean a ruler monarch or a butterfly monarch?" she asked as she smiled.
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"Both, see, you're still a teacher at heart. You can come back and be even better than you were."
Her snaggle-toothed smile was so beautiful. Her dirty, scaly reptile-looking skin couldn't have
looked more beautiful against the elegant, finely woven fabric Valerie had just pinned around her
neck.
Valerie was invited to speak at two secular women's organizations in two days on March
14th and 15th, the United Voluntary Services and the Republican Women's Club. The topic of
their meeting this month was "battered women." They wanted to hear her experiences, through
Operation Outreach.
They clung to every word as if they were craving the information,
personally. Valerie had a lot to share, a lot.....
Back in the camper, she lay there in the bed above the cab of the truck, remembering the
kids there watching the drive-in movies through the front window and eating the chili dogs that
she'd made at home and wrapped in foil to keep warm in the camper's little oven; so many
memories. She wondered if Roy was also lying in their bed at home with a medley of memories
of his own rushing through his mind. Everything he touched in the house could quicken a
memory if he would let it. Valerie had built her nest with all of the love she had within her heart
to give. Would he go into her bathroom and smell the fragrance of her special place, so much
preparation and thoughts and prayers had permeated those walls. Valerie finally went to sleep.
The next morning as she sat on the edge of the rocks at the top of the hill during her walk,
she knew she was going to be asked to leave Judy's house. She sat there awhile watching the
birds soar, and then made her way back down the hill. When she arrived in downtown Los
Olivos on foot, she was surprised to see Rafael Rascone (Grace's husband). "Valerie," he said, "I
do yard work for a couple that has a guest house they rent out. It's a real cute place and would be
so much better for you than living in a camper. Their names are Floyd and Joy. I've told them,
Valerie, you're okay. They know who you are and respect you for it."
Valerie headed straight for Judy's house to tell her the good news and use her phone. As
Valerie walked in the front door Judy said, "Hi Val, I have something to tell you." She looked so
serious. "Wait, Judy, please before you speak, I need to tell you my news first. Rafael Rascone
told me there's an apartment for rent from these people he works for. The rent is cheap enough
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for me." Judy nearly began to cry; her neighbor that knew of Valerie had complained about her
camper in Judy’s driveway next to his house.....
After her walk the next morning, Valerie got into the old brown boat (1969 Cadillac) Roy
had purchased for her and headed to Floyd and Joy's place. The address took her into the
country. She climbed up a hill in the car and at the top was a sign off to the right: Floyd and Joy
Parkins, it read. It was beautiful up there, almost like her other mountain top. There, off to the
right, on a cliff overlooking a grape vineyard below was the apartment. It was completely
furnished and had a metal fireplace. Rebecca had gone back home from Judy's house. Floyd
said that he didn't want children living with her, but they could come to visit, sometimes
overnight, but not to live. All Valerie had to do was take the camper back to the house.
Instead of turning right at the bottom of the dirt road she came in on, she decided to turn
left out of curiosity. She wound around and around the country road for a mile or two, then it
was up hill. Finally she recognized it. This was the other entrance to her special hiding place.
She drove to the hilltop, stopped the car and got out. It was awesome and somewhat mysterious.
There were her hawks flying around. So effortlessly they soared up high against the heavens;
she looked up at them and smiled as a soft breeze blew against her tears.
Valerie kept a really busy schedule. It seemed she was hardly ever home except... the
nights were lonely like laying in a grave. She loved her little apartment. She was actually
enjoying the independence. She had a little TV, and Spud Miller had brought her some wood for
the fireplace. The nights were still cool enough for a fire. She walked real early every morning.
Michael and Rebecca came over to see her off and on. Roy took her out for dinner at the
Mustard Seed. It was to talk about Rebecca. Her self-image was so bad. Valerie begged Roy to
get close to her. She was hurting. She told him that they all needed counseling; he refused. A
few days later he came over to the apartment. He said the temptations were too powerful to
resist. He felt that he needed to go out with other women. Several times he choked back tears.
Valerie told him that she was committed to their marriage and that she was going to fight for it.
She asked him if she could come home. He said no, that she needed to get fixed first. He said
that he was lonely and wanted to be with her, or someone. He refused to share his feelings, as
usual. He seemed consumed with guilt. There was something very damaging that had happened
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to Roy way before he met her. Her leaving only stirred this thing up. Roy's battle wasn't with
her.
Valerie was really missing being home with Roy and the kids. She was miserably lonely.
She was thinking of resigning the Outreach. She was losing her hold of her family; they acted as
if they had forgotten her. Maybe if she gave up Operation Outreach, Roy would come around.
That evening Roy took her to dinner. They had fish and wine then they came back to her
apartment and Roy lit a fire in the fireplace. They made love for nearly three hours. How that
happened, and why it had never happened before still wasn’t figured out. It was so wonderful
being held by him like she had wanted him to do all along. After that evening of talking and
reminiscing, Roy went back on the warpath again. What had happened? He couldn’t make up
his mind. He told her that he didn't feel he should give her money anymore; she had better find a
job. Roy cut her off.
The stress had made her sicker than ever before. Valerie looked up her symptoms in a
book called a vitamin bible and made a grocery list of vitamins for constipation, dry hair and
skin, sores in her mouth, no energy, depression. She looked up each symptom and wrote down
what the book said to take. Bill Duboise gave her a $100.00 bill and told her to go buy what she
needed. She went to the health food store and handed the man her list. He handed her a big
grocery bag nearly full of pills with the dosage she was to take written on top of the lid in dark
black pen; 2-3X, 1-3X and so on. When she got home she organized these pills in piles for the
day, only she read the instructions on top of the lid backwards; 3-2X, 3-1X. By the second day
she was nearly dead. She had overdosed and her body shutdown. She couldn't get out of bed.
She couldn't even urinate. She laid there with a high fever for days. Slowly her body began to
revive. During that time she could even smell the odor of "death" in the apartment. It took her
over a week to recover.
She was sleeping late one morning towards the end of her recovery, when she was awoke
with a fly crawling across her face. She batted him off and was aghast, she always hated flies.
He didn't fly away; he just simply fell to the floor. She rolled over in bed half asleep when this
loud buzz in her ear caused her to sit straight up in bed slapping at her hair. What's going on
here? She thought as she opened her eyes. And then... she screamed in terror. Her apartment
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walls and ceiling were nearly covered with thousands of flies, everywhere. She thought she must
be dreaming. They weren't flying around, only crawling. She slowly moved towards the swatter
and lifted it off the nail on the wall. The flies on it quickly crawled off. She lifted it in the air to
begin her slaughter. How she could ever kill all of these, she thought.
The flies were all over the cupboards and walls and ceiling, so thick it was like a
nightmare. As soon as she slapped the fly swatter against the wall, she realized they couldn't fly.
She was terrified that they might take off in a swarm. The tiny swatter wasn't making a dent, and
fly guts all over the walls was another reason she stopped her fruitless efforts. She hurriedly got
dressed and left for town to buy some insect killer. Nearly hysterical with fear, she sprayed and
sprayed and sprayed until she couldn't stay in the apartment any longer because of the poisonous
fumes. The fumes were making her sick.....
She called Shirley. She wasn't home. Grace was at work, Joyce was, too. Valerie went
to the Blue Chip Cookie Shop in Solvang where Joyce worked to tell her about what was
happening. The place kept getting busier and busier, so Joyce couldn't stop to talk with Valerie.
Valerie left and went to the Outreach, hoping she could find someone who would listen to her.
People were working there now that she didn't even know. Recipients were sitting around in
different places waiting to be helped. Betty was counting government commodity boxes that had
just come in. She wasn't too happy with Valerie. Valerie hadn't returned her calls. Betty
ignored her as she stood there not knowing what to say to her. Betty was also mad at her, over
her leaving Roy.
Annie was there going through boxes of clothes. She was mad, too, for all the same
reasons. Valerie remembered that Annie, Georgia, Beverly and Marie were waiting in her office
back in December when she walked in late. Annie had gasped. She said that she had seen, in the
spirit, a demon behind Valerie. It was the size of a weasel; its torso small and slender resembled
a weasel. It had a tail like a monkey and the legs were like a dog with claws or talons, like a
hawk or a bird of prey. The really fearsome things were its teeth, she had said. It had a long
snout with rows of small, thin, sharp teeth, and its eyes were red and horrid looking. She said it
was following Valerie right at her heels, as if it were a pet of hers. Annie had also seen a black
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candle burning in the spirit sense. Valerie at the time had just blown it off as being something
she didn't see, but now she was wondering.....
Valerie went into the reception area. Marie Brown (Bill Brown's wife) was sitting behind
the desk. "Marie, do you know about the story of Job in the Old Testament?" "Yes, why?" she
asked. "Would you tell me the story?" Valerie asked. After hearing the story, Valerie left and
went back to her apartment. When she opened the door, the flies were worse. She tiptoed
slowly to where her tape recorder, arm weights and her waist weight was and left to go on a walk
to pray for some direction. Her taped music had become her best friend through those years of
loneliness and those many times so few understood her deepest feelings. She listened closely to
the words to each song. It was so refreshing to her spirit.....
"Sometimes, fears can hide and rob one's vision," the words to the music said to her. She
noticed a low fog along the ground on the left of her as she walked briskly down the country
road..... She could feel a divine presence..... Telepathically, they were communicating. The
topic was the flies. They were demonic, the divine presence told her. The flies actually
represented people, those who had and were hurting her for all the various reasons. Her fear and
intimidation of people was similar to trying to kill all those flies by hitting them with the fly
swatter. She'd done the same thing with unfavorable people that she'd encountered in her life.
The poison she had sprayed to kill the flies represented her tongue; things she'd said at times
about others to those she was closest to. "Just open the windows," He told Valerie, "and the flies
will leave." And then He was gone. He had no sooner left, than Valerie was startled by a huge
snake that was so long it literally stretched across the road from edge to edge. It wasn't moving.
Obviously it had just died for some strange reason. Only the head was damaged. It was crushed
flat! A tire had run over only its head. Valerie picked up the snakes' tail and began to walk back
towards the apartment, dragging this eight to ten foot long snake by the tail behind her. Rafael
(the gardener, Grace's husband) was working in the yard as she approached him. He caught his
breath and stared at the snake that Valerie was dragging as she approached him. She came up to
him and laid the snake at his feet, and then told him why..... Valerie then trudged back through
the thicket to the end of the road and back up the hill to the apartment.
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She made an appointment with Dr. Green. He was the only male doctor she trusted. He
had delivered Michael and Rebecca. She made the appointment, letting the nurse know what her
symptoms were. Dr. Green had worked with the Outreach some through Donna Miller and
Sandy at the Alternative Crisis Pregnancy Center, helping see to expectant moms. The nurse had
told her to come on in to the office for a checkup that very day. Valerie sat on the table in the
doctor's office as he looked through her chart. "You've come a long way, Valerie. I remember
back in the early seventies, after you had those babies of yours, how emotionally distraught you
were. You had me real concerned," he said. He examined her, and then sat down at the stool
next to the table she was on. "You do have a problem. You have a large cyst attached to your
remaining right ovary. It's pretty big. I feel you're also seriously depleted with estrogen. I'm
going to put you on antibiotics, a pretty heavy dose," he continued. "I'll order some blood
work.” He gave her a month's supply of patches and loaded her big purse with small sample
bottles of antibiotics. Valerie never did go for the blood work. Where was she going to get
$85.00 for lab fees?
It was taking awhile for the S.G. Foundation to approve for her to receive $500.00 a
month. She had rent past due. There was food and gas, this car went through gas like a sieve. It
wasn’t inspected either. The tags were past due and she didn't have any insurance on it. Then,
most important of all, was the money she had to have to take her kids out once a week on their
"date night."
Valerie picked up her Outreach mail at the Santa Ynez post office that afternoon. One of
the letters that she always looked forward to was from her friend, John Crispin Mykoyi from
Nyazura, Zimbabwe. Two words that jumped off the page were "WAR" and "STARVATION."
She sensed the dismay, the discouragement in his heart. He was a desperate man. His country
and the people he loved so, were dying. Little children were starving to death before his very
eyes and he felt helpless. It quickened in Valerie, afresh, her calling to "feed hungry people in
hard times that were coming." The board wouldn't approve sending him money anymore like
Valerie had been doing since he first wrote to her about how to start an Operation Outreach in
Africa.
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Two of Valerie's favorite homeless people were waiting in the Outreach for her. The
woman was a mongoloid. She had severe mental deficiencies and physical abnormalities, but
she was loveable like a little child. Her companion was her sweetheart. She didn't know if they
were married or not. They both had worked at and traveled with a popular circus. When she
saw Valerie, she jumped to her feet and ran to hug her as if she were her very best friend. They
just wanted to see how she was doing, that's all. "I think you need my help," she told Valerie,
and she put her arms around her and cried. "I pray for you all the time," she continued. The man
smiled at Valerie, really big. He didn't have but a few teeth in his mouth and he smelled awful,
but his heart would be precious and he loved his "special girl," he called her. That was the last
time Valerie ever saw them again.
There were many opinions in the Outreach and community that were contrary to the
direction God was going, through Valerie. It all hid behind doctrine, denomination, theory, and
theology; all those rules and regulations that wrapped that invisible chain around your neck;
legalism that was pure bondage. Valerie was labeled rebellious, un-submissive, and controlling.
It was hard to find anyone who had the same vision. Victor and she met several times during
April and into May to try to put what was in her heart on paper; the policies and procedures of
Operation Outreach. Strife was worse than ever at the Outreach. Bob had been acting kinda
weird around her since she wasn't at home with Roy anymore, and he wasn't at home anymore
with Betty. The board had assigned the two of them to pick out the copy machine. Several were
questioning her leadership. They would come against nearly everything she said or did. Valerie
submitted a letter to the board or "who it may concern." She requested help in getting the
uncooperative board members out-a-here.
She met with Bill Duboise for 4 ½ hours one
afternoon and poured her heart out. He just sat and listened while she got it all out.
Michael had a real bad dream one night. He called Valerie on the phone. He told her
that he heard a noise at their sliding glass back door. He went to the door. There were two black
wolves standing there, slobbering and jumping on the glass door. Michael ran and got Roy. Roy
brought a shotgun and pointed it right at one of them. He aimed it right at its head and pulled the
trigger. The wolf laughed almost like a human, an evil laugh. He shot and shot, hitting them. It
didn't faze them in the least. They wouldn't die. They finally slowly walked away to the end of
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the patio, then they turned and looked back. They smiled as if to say that they would be back.
Rebecca also had complained to Valerie that she was seeing things in her room again.
The kids had finished their diving lessons and graduated "certified divers", but the out
come was fruitless, and their first experiences were not good either. Michelle had broken her ear
drum during diving lessons and was having surgery in a few weeks. Michael freaked, deep down
in the murky ocean water the first time he and Roy dove together in the ocean.
He got
claustrophobic and flipped out. And Rebecca got nearly hypothermic one afternoon, when they
were all at the ocean. Roy reacted the way he always did, like the time when the kids were small
and tangled up their fishing lines. He had gotten so ticked off that he threw all the fishing poles
in the water; another intimidation for the kids.
Roy and Valerie went out several Saturday nights in a row. He wanted her, but he didn't.
They went to L.A., June 4, for Sherri Alexander's wedding. Sherri married a guy named Bob.
Roy and Valerie stayed in L.A. Saturday and Sunday. The wedding was simply beautiful! Roy
and Valerie went to the reception and sat off to themselves in a cozy little romantic booth. It was
very romantic as they danced a few times. Valerie had always dreamed of a wedding like this,
like in Cinderella. It seemed to make sense to prepare her self to be a bride, again. Valerie was
now 168 pounds, size 10, her nails were long, her skin was soft as a baby's behind and her hair
was even growing. She longed to experience the fullness of being a beautiful bride. Roy would
be so proud of her. Valerie was attending a new group therapy. She usually just sat at the back
and doodled on a piece of paper while the class was going on. They'd lost her in the dust a few
weeks before when they handed out... another workbook!
Roy took her to dinner at Mattie's Tavern in Los Olivos. She loved eating there. At first
he didn't want to talk about anything, but then he put his head down and cried like a little child.
Valerie could see how old and tired Roy looked in the candlelight that was flickering against his
face. He was hardly making a living, and the kids were barely making it. He was lonely. The
yard at the house was a mess. His credit was ruined. "I'm tired, burned out. I have no friends,"
he told her. "It's not you, Valerie. It's something inside of me that I can't get out." Roy sobbed
for awhile. He never knew his dad loved him until he was dying. He hadn't understood his dad,
but he did now, because... "I’m just like him." His parents had separated when he was 14. He
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had withdrawn somewhere in his little boy years and never had someone he could trust to let him
come out and be the kind of man he wanted to be. He didn't trust his counseling with Greg and
wasn't going back. A friend, Roy said, was someone that accepted you as you are and just hangs
out with you to get to know you better. "All I want is happiness, Valerie. I just don't know how
to tear down the walls in my life. I need help. Would you please help me?" he pleaded. Valerie
had never before heard him ask for help. She, also, was crying out for help to get rid of the walls
in her own life. "I would consider it an honor to help you, honey," Valerie responded with her
arms around him, trying desperately to comfort him, while inside of herself she was jumping up
and down screaming... “I’m going home, I’m going home!” She was coming back home! Her
family needed her, and she needed them, and she would never, ever leave home again. Rebecca
had run away from home to live at Lance's house, but she could come home too, now. Valerie
was moving back in the next day. Her heart was singing as she began to pack for home.
Suddenly, Roy turned on her for no apparent reason. One minute it was wonderful, the
next minute it was hell! He wanted her to go to work and, he wanted her to choose between him
and God. He said she had caused all of his problems. She was compulsive and did everything to
extreme. "And I won't go to church, so forget that," he yelled. "We're free without you there.
We don't want you coming home and changing everything around, we’re happy without you."
The apartment was dark, and even the walls seem to close in on her with the forbearing
darkness. She was consumed with loneliness. There still was evidence of her things half packed
for home. She sat there at the kitchen table in the dark, feeling a depression worse than she'd
ever known. She missed her family.
In her mind she had played over and over what she was going to do first when she got
home; fix something special for dinner, perhaps, the kid's favorite meals and bake a cake. The
depression worsened. She sat on the bed in the dark bedroom with only the noise of a dripping
faucet. She had nothing to live for. Her family didn't want her. All her dreams were down the
tubes. The thoughts of suicide were overwhelming. She sat up all night at the table thinking.
There was no way she could sleep. The next day the depression was worse. Enough was
enough, only this time it was different. She drove to Roser's Drug Store and bought a box of
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double edged razor blades and like a zombie got back into her car and drove to the apartment and
locked the door. She ran the bathtub full of warm water and took her clothes off and got in.
As she un-wrapped the paper from the razor blade, her mind drifted back to her kids. She
used to tuck them in bed. As she folded the towels from their bath, picked up their dirty clothes
off the floor and put them in the hamper, Michelle would say, "good-night Mom." "Good-night
Michelle." Michael would say, "good-night Mommy." "Good-night Michael." Rebecca would
say, "good-night Mommy." "Good-night Rebecca. "I love you big as the moon," she would say.
"I love you, too Mommy, big as the moon," they would tell her. She was a good mama. She
made sure she left them with memories. Precious memories they'd never forget. And there were
all of the pictures she took of every special occasion, albums full of them, and the videos, one for
each year. Why did it have to end this way? She had had one disaster after the other, pieces
here, pieces there, lives shattered, and people dead. Her little Jimmy Jay, she could she him so
clearly at 2 years old in his little western shirt and cowboy boots, those big blue eyes and long
blond eyelashes; what a handsome boy. He was 26 years old now, with a son of his own she'd
never seen, and she had been robbed. She never got to know her son and she had never known
her grandson. Where did Tanya get her deep dimples in her little cheeks? Now she was 24 and
had a 9 year old, named Jamie. They never got a chance to know just how much she loved them.
They had been snatched away from Valerie at such a young age.
Michelle was such a doll when she was a little girl. She looked just like Owen; that cute
little pug nose, her beautiful light blond hair and the way her eyes smiled when she laughed.
Michael too, was such a beautiful little boy. His baby teeth were so tiny. When he was smiling
it made her feel warm all over. She could still hear him screaming as she drove out of the
driveway. "Mom,... Mom... Mom, please don't go... Mom." How could she have left him and
her little Rebecca; always smiling Rebecca. Her leaving had been so hard for Rebecca to take,
and now, moving in with Lance? This wasn't like the time before when Valerie was young.
There were no thoughts of grandeur that she'd be found in some glamorous position or everyone
would sob and cry over her casket wishing they would have treated her better, she thought as she
held the razor blade in one hand. She was tired, worn out. "Just pull the plug at the same time,"
a voice said in her mind. "No mess, no fuss." Back off from reality and chicken out of life. She
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pressed the razor edge against her wrists and closed her eyes tight. The razor penetrated her skin
and... the phone began to ring. She stopped and opened her eyes. The phone had broken the
trance she was in. "Ring... ring... ring." She sat down the razor, got out of the tub and wrapped a
towel around her.
She was freezing cold, so cold she could see her breath.....
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"Hello."
"Hi, Valerie, this is Mae."
"Who?"
"Mae, your grandmother, have you
forgotten?" "Oh, hi, Mae. I'm sorry I didn't recognize your voice," Valerie said. "Are you busy?
Am I disturbing something?" she asked. "A... no... I was just.. a.. in the bathtub. What's wrong,
are you sick or something?" Valerie asked her. "No, oh my, no, I feel pretty good actually. I just
wanted to call and see how you were doing, you know, with your family and all. I felt like you
were really going through some hard times. I wanted to tell you I'm buying you a ticket to come
here to visit for a week." "I don't know, Mae. I have a lot I have to take care of here." "Valerie
Jo, you make your plans for the next week, call me and I'll send your ticket. Do you hear me?"
Valerie got dressed. If she was going to Lubbock, Texas, she had a lot of things to take
care of first. It was still before noon. She put on her sweats and walking shoes, weights and tape
player and took off out the door for her meditation walk. The song on the tape was appropriate
for the moment, "sometimes it feels like I'm out in the bushes banging my head against a wall
and I wonder where You are, I'm so alone.....”
The next day, Valerie passed on her morning walk and left for Santa Barbara early for her
appointment with Karen to get her nails done. They had been building a relationship, slowly.
They talked, cliché' for awhile, then about the time Karen was about to put on the polish, Valerie
got up the guts to open up to her. "Karen," Valerie said, "I need to talk to you in private. When
you're finished here, could you please walk me out to the car?" "Sure," she said, "I'd be glad to.
What do you want?" "It's private." She finished up. Karen Scott's regular nature was bubbly
and friendly. They walked out to Valerie's car together. Valerie's nails were still wet so Karen
opened her car door for her and Valerie sat down. "Well, what did you want to tell me?" she
asked enthusiastically as she stood just outside the car door. "I don't know where to start,"
Valerie told her. "I guess from the beginning. It's not because Roy and I are separated I'm
saying this. I've prayed for this moment for 14 years, Karen. I... I..." Karen didn't speak, but her
look was serious. "I just wanted to ask you for your forgiveness for all I've done to hurt you and
Brian. I've carried this around in my heart for so long. The very reason I've even come here all
these weeks was to get to this point. I knew you hated me, and I don't blame you." Valerie
started crying, remorsefully. Then Karen reached down and took Valerie's arm and pulled at her
to stand up. Valerie didn't blame her if she decked her. Instead she put her arms around her and
hugged her and they both cried; Karen Scott and Valerie. "I forgive you," she whispered in her
ear.....
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As the plane flew across the blue sky, Valerie got caught up again in the splendor of
those big white puffy clouds that reminded her of some happy, and a few unhappy, times of her
life. What was she so worried about? Roy would see the light; he wouldn't let her go. This
week away from Roy and the kids would be good for everyone. They'll realize just how selfish
everyone is being and they'll all make that important commitment to each other, "till death do us
part," Valerie thought. She wondered how her grandmother Mae was doing. It had been two
years since she had last seen her when she came to Lubbock to be with her for the surgery that
she had on her stomach. She looked forward to seeing her, because she loved her dearly, but she
dreaded those haunting memories and all that shame and guilt. Why was Valerie so angry? She
felt like she had forgiven Pa. Why all the mixed emotions? She forgave Pa for violating her
when Sherri and she went through these memories, but, something was still boiling that was
hidden. Was she angry at him because... she started to cry. It suddenly hit her, what was hidden;
the root; the tap root to why she couldn't forgive him, really forgive him. He took away her
grandpa, that she had felt really loved her. Also her grandmother! And because of him, she had
to give up her children for adoption. If he had not done this to her, she would have had a safe
place for them to live. She would never have had to leave that day. "I'd still have my children
today if it weren't for what Pa did to me!" she yelled inside herself, sobbing with convulsive
heaving in her chest. "I lost the few people that I actually had in this world because of what he
did to me," she thought. The airplane pilot announced that they were landing at the Lubbock
Airport and to please fasten their seat belts. Her mind snapped back to the present. Lubbock,
Texas, again? Why did she always seem to end up at this place?
It didn't take long to get to the older side of town that she'd lived in when she was here in
the early 60's. It hadn't changed much at all. She was going to have to stay there for the entire
week. She loved her grandmother so much, and she was so glad she had this little house. She
could still see Pa sitting in the easy chair in her mind. "Oh, there's Valerie Jo. Come in, come
in, come in," Mae said happily. She hobbled towards her with her walker. "My goodness,
Valerie," she said suddenly, "you're a shadow of your former self." "You've lost a whole 'nother
person, girl." Valerie put the suitcases in the back bedroom and then sat down in the living room
to rest and talk with Mae awhile. What was she going to do for seven days in this town, in this
house? She missed California, and most of all she missed her kids. After a half hour or so, she
called home. The kids probably wouldn't be there now that school was out for the summer.
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Michael spent most of his days doing his sports. Now that he had his own transportation, he was
always on the go. Rebecca nearly lived at Lance's house. Valerie thought maybe Roy was
home. No one answered so she left a message on the machine for someone to call her. That
night, real late, she called again; still no answer; 2:00 a.m. Texas time, 12:00 a.m. California
time, she called again. Michael was home asleep, Rebecca was in her room, and Roy was still
gone. He'd called the kids and told them he'd be real late. She felt hurt it didn't seem anyone
really missed her. She nearly cried herself to sleep that night.
The next day Valerie hung around Mae's all day bored out of her gourd. She was hoping
Rita and Harlan Womack would have some time to spend with her, but the phone number she
had for them wasn't theirs anymore. "Bummer." She phoned the Hodges Community Center
and bought a week's pass for Jazzersize classes. Valerie knew Mae wanted her to stay with her
every minute, but she had to get out-a that house. She had just enough money left to rent the car
and have a little for gas. She turned up her music in the car as loud as it would go and drove
slowly around from one place to another. Driving around brought back bitter memories and only
added more depression. Finally she pulled into a park across the street from where Jimmy and
she used to live when Jay was a baby. There were the baseball bleachers where she would sit
with little Jimmy Jay in her arms, usually after one of Jimmy's beatings. She used the bleachers
to hide. She turned the car another way. The memory was painful as she listened to her music,
"I'm not looking behind me at mistakes I've already made..." the words to the music said. She sat
there and cried and cried... and cried, until way after dark. She didn't want to go back to Mae's.
She didn't want to go back to California. She didn't have a choice. The next morning her eyes
were nearly swollen shut from crying. Her music didn't seem to help anymore. She was lying in
bed wondering what to do next, when she seemed to be impressed into looking up plumbing
shops. "Kip's Plumbing" in the phone book came into her mind. She didn't waste a second in
dialing the phone number.
Kip's Plumbing," the voice on the phone line said. "A... hello, who is it that owns this
business?" Valerie asked speaking very slowly. "My daddy, Harlan Womack, did you need
some plumbing done? He's not here right now, but I can take a message." "Oh... yes, a... tell
him Valerie Scott called and would he please call me back at 744-6320." Ten minutes later the
phone rang. "Hi, Valerie Jo. Well, how in the world have you been?" It was Harlan. She'd
know that raspy voice anywhere. "Hi, Harlan, that didn't take long to return my call," she said.
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"When did you get in town?" he asked. "Are you staying long?" "I got in Monday. Mae asked
me to come out to visit awhile. I'm here for a week," she answered. "Well, I sure would like to
get to see ya. Maybe we could get together before you leave. There are a few things I'd like to
talk to you about," he said. Valerie was so relieved and very excited that she wouldn't be
spending this entire week without seeing some other people. "Why don't you and Rita meet me
for coffee or something? In fact, are you two busy this evening?" she asked. "Well, Rita is not
here... a... a it would be just me," he told her. They were to meet at the parking lot where she
takes Jazzersize down by the pond.
Valerie got dressed for her exercise class and made an excuse to Mae that she needed to
leave a little early. Mae was holding onto her too tight, and knew she was trying to get away.
She found a nice shady spot under a tree by the little pond at the park, spread out the red throw
rug Mae had loaned her to exercise on and took out of her tote bag paper and pen.
She was going to write Roy a letter telling him, for once, exactly how she felt in the best
way she could express herself. Harlan wouldn't be coming for another hour or so. "Dear Roy"...
no, no. "Dearest Roy"... no, that's corny. "My Darling Roy"... that's dumb, she thought. "Roy,
there's so much I need to tell you," Valerie began. "Please help me find out why I'm not able to
let myself be the way you say I should be.... I love you and my family so much..." The letter
went on and on, fifteen pages, begging, apologizing, pleading and hoping. She'd read it to
Harlan when he got there, or should she? She had to look in control when Harlan came, and quit
messing up her makeup with her tears, she told herself. Her hair was just right and she was a
size 10, now. She could even cross her legs, Indian style, once again. Between the tears, she
was looking up towards the parking lot. There he was, walking towards her sitting there. It
didn't look like Harlan Womack, but she'd know that walk anywhere. That bulldog walk couldn't
be mistaken. At first her mind was playing tricks on her--he almost looked sixteen years old. He
was half the size he was before. Valerie's heart was beating fast. She tried not to stare as he
came nearer and nearer with that same Harlan Womack smile on his face. Some kinda nostalgia
trip had gotten a hold of her like a wistful yearning for something in the past. "Hi, Valerie Jo.
You sure look nice. My goodness, you've really trimmed up. How are you?" he said as he sat
down on the ground and crossed his legs, Indian style.
"You've really lost weight, too. My gosh, how much have you lost?" Valerie asked.
"About 130 pounds." "Me too, a little more, maybe," Valerie told him. Valerie tried not to act
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too terribly surprised. She didn't want to embarrass him, but he looked so young and so much
was banging on the doors of her memories. It was almost like the day after the last time she saw
him at school in 1962. They were sitting on the grass at lunchtime in the school yard like they
always did. Valerie didn't let herself look into his face as he talked then, either. Harlan had a
son, Kip, that was the same age as Valerie’s Tanya, 24, and a daughter, Selina. She was
Michelle's age, 21. Harlan and his son Kip had this plumbing business that Harlan told her was
having all kinds of problems. His business had been incredible and then suddenly dropped off.
"You look great. You seem real happy, Harlan," Valerie told him. "Not hardly; it's a front. My
life is a mess," he said hanging down his head. "Rita left me several months ago. She left me for
another man, and the IRS is after me for back taxes and threatening to take the home we've lived
in for years, and my business is failing. I'm so glad you've come here, Valerie. I needed
someone to talk to about Rita. Maybe you can help me understand her and what she wants," he
said. They talked a long time about him and Rita and their ups and downs all these years. He
told Valerie that he thought that she never did really love him. "We didn't have a marriage, we
had an arrangement," he said. "Harlan, I left Roy in February," Valerie finally interjected.
"That's why I was so glad you had the time to talk with me. I was hoping you could help me
understand him, you being a man and all. I don't want to lose my marriage," Valerie told Harlan.
"All my life, that's all I've dreamed of, just for me to have my children and a happy home for
them to grow up in. I've tried so hard to stop this all from happening. I never dreamed Roy
would give me up so easily," she continued. "He has someone else already, already? In my
home? With my children? I only left that day to shake him and the kids into some sense." "It
doesn't sound like Roy loves you, Valerie," Harlan interjected as Valerie was unloading her fears
and worries.
"Would you like to go to church tomorrow night? I'm preachin'," Harlan asked. "I'd love
to go! I'll bet you're a good preacher," Valerie answered. The next day she was so looking
forward to going to church to hear Harlan preach. How could Rita give up someone like this? If
it only could have been Harlan and her. She wondered what kind of life they could have had
together?
One o'clock, two o'clock... four, five... "Mae, I'm meeting a friend for dinner and then
we're going to church," Valerie told Mae, waiting until the last minute to break the news. "Oh,
who's your friend?" "A friend I went to O.L. Slaton with." "What's your friend’s name?" "Mae,
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I'm not a child, it's my old boyfriend, Harlan Womack." "Where's his wife? She's going too,
isn't she?" Oh boy! "No... They’re separated." "What church is this?" "I don't know, Mae.
He's a Baptist preacher." "It wouldn't look good, Valerie, you going out to dinner with a married
man." "He's a friend. I'm a married woman, too," Valerie replied. Yeah... she felt like a kid
again. Somehow part of that feeling wasn't bad. She felt like a silly school girl in a lot of ways,
even if it was all fantasy.
She drove to Harlan's house. It hadn't changed much. It was still a mess. The house
reeked of stale cigarette smoke. As he came from the back of the house he asked Selina to
button his top button. Valerie noticed his hands weren't able to turn inward. He was bowlegged,
which is a lack of Vitamin C when he was a child. She had seen this same deformity at
Operation Outreach. Harlan had been raised in a real poor family. Another thing she noticed
was that his hands were worn and callused. She could tell that he worked hard, real hard! "You
sure look nice, Valerie. I like your dress. It looks real pretty on you," he said as Selina was
trying to button his top button. "You look real nice, too. I've never seen you in a suit," Valerie
told him. She felt so weird, like they had just been separated for awhile and the old friends were
back again carrying on as usual. "I wanta go, Papaw," little Blaine said tugging on Harlan's pant
leg. Harlan picked him up, hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. "Papaw is going to see
you later, buddy boy. You stay here with your mama," Harlan told him. They went to Carrows
for dinner and sat in the smoking section for some dumb reason, Valerie thought. They both
ordered a dinner salad with a blop of tuna on it. "Would you like to ride around tomorrow and
go to some of the old places?" Harlan asked. "Sure," Valerie responded. That night at church
hardly anyone was there. It was a real small Baptist church that seated about 60 or so people, but
only five people showed up. Selina came in and sat at the front with her kids. Although Harlan
had sacrificed a lot for this church, they weren't standing behind him during this tremendously
difficult time in his life. His wife had left him and he was getting the flak. After church was
over, Valerie was speechless. "Harlan, I can really hear God in your preaching," Valerie told
him. Harlan locked up the little church, without saying a word. He was hurt that hardly anyone
had shown up that evening. "Can you find your way back to Mae's okay?" he asked. "I'm going
on with Selina if it's okay," he said. "Sure, I know how to get there," Valerie told him. "I'll see
you tomorrow, okay. Thanks for coming," Harlan said......
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Valerie felt as if life was trying to come back into her but she kept trying to slap it back
down. Is it because she knew that Harlan knew and understood her? He had always understood.
She kept telling herself as she brushed her teeth, "He's just a friend. I'm not getting off track."
Mae and Valerie went back to the eye doctor to pick out her glass frames. She had needed the
glasses for such a long time. Mae spent nearly $300.00 of her social security on her glasses.
Valerie knew that Roy had left her in his heart long ago, but she kept hoping. She called
home that afternoon; Michael's recorded message answered... “Hi, this is the Scott family
residence.....” She missed so Michelle, Michael and Rebecca. She left a message and told them
to please call her.
She left around 3:00 p.m. for Harlan's house. "I have to be back by 6:30, Mae wants me
to help her with some things," Valerie told Harlan. Harlan quickly introduced her to Kip.....
"Well, then we better go, don't you think?" he cheerfully declared and got into the car. Harlan
and Valerie rode all around Lubbock to familiar places they'd known. They had fun laughing
and talking and remembering. Just for old time's sake, they pulled into the Sonic hamburger
joint down the street from where the Hi-Di-Ho used to be and got a cherry coke. They talked for
hours......
Valerie was feeling real uncomfortable.
Harlan and her were both starved for
attention and affection. She didn't want to make any mistakes. She'd been faithful to Roy for 18
years...... She went back to Mae's more confused than ever; choking back the tears and crying
herself to sleep again......
Had she missed out?
Was it because of the memories of her
relationship with Harlan and the way he'd loved her more than she'd ever known the short
months that they were together? Or, was she crying that night because... no one in her family
ever called her back?
Valerie would be leaving to go back to California in two days. Harlan called and asked
her if she could go out to dinner with him, again..... They met early that afternoon at Carrows,
and Valerie unloaded her whole life story, thus far, on Harlan; childhood, Roy, and everything.
He listened intently to her every word, and then, acutely recalling every experience they had
together when they were in school all of those years ago, he gave Valerie feed-back about herself
like she had never heard anyone give, not about her. He even remembered what she wore to
school. He remembered every thing about her, and them, as if it were yesterday..... Then they
filled in the gaps of all the years they had been separated from one another...... Valerie wondered
if he was real. He knew her like a book. No one ever knew the things he knew, no one ever
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cared to. Then, suddenly, as they were talking, it happened, it just happened out of the blue.
Valerie looked past the boundary she had set for herself, and she was now looking intently, with
wide-open eyes, deep into Harlan’s brown eyes. It wasn’t planned, she didn’t mean to. It were
as if someone lit a match and threw it into a huge fireworks display, and it exploded all at one
time. Then she realizes that she had tried to avoid this moment, but it was to late now. Valerie
Jo couldn't stop looking into the eyes of this man that had been the only male that had ever been
truly good to her. About this same time, Harlan reached across the table and touched her hand.
Her heart nearly beat out of her chest; a surge of blood raced to her head. She felt this giddytingling feeling, like a nerving electrical shock hit, and serge from the top of her head to the tips
of her toes. It was a thrilling sensation for someone that had been feeling like a walking dead
woman for so long. Emotions she hadn't felt in years swelled up in her like a massive tidal wave
you couldn't see the top of. She needed to pull her hand back, but the rhapsody she was
experiencing had already been poured into concrete years ago and was stuck fast as if this
moment was just a continuation of 27 years before......
Then his other hand came along next to that one, to make matters worse, or better. His
ruff, strong hands picked up Valerie's hand, ever so gently. His, (knotted with arthritis at the
joints) fingers were the same hands that had held her hand in the same tender way when they sat
in her grandmother's office, listening to their song, "I Can't Help Falling in Love With You,"
when they were young. This poor farm boy had once been her knight in shining armor, and she,
he had told her, had been his queen.
"You know, Valerie Jo, when you walked up those steps that day at O.L. Slaton in that
blue sailor dress with those golden ringlets hanging over your shoulder and those cute feet with
nylon stockings on, I couldn't believe my eyes. It was like you stepped out of heaven right into
my heart. I had just seen who I was created for," Harlan told her. She didn’t know how to react
to this like she didn’t back then either. Valerie felt silly and happy and jubilant all at the same
time. Squeezing her hand gently, he continued. "Please listen with your heart. I'm serious. God
spoke to me on the school steps that day, 'behold your bride.' "Valerie lost her breath and gulped
with that word, “BRIDE.” She looked down at the table. “I thought that I was preparing myself
as a bride for Roy”, she thought to herself. “We were going to get remarried and live happily
ever after.”
"Look... this is all happening too fast Harlan," she said reaching across the booth
seat for her purse. "As much as I want and need this moment, it doesn't make any sense from
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where I've been, where I am and where I'd planned on going. Harlan, I really do believe
something very special could have been, had we had a chance to make it happen, but things
didn't work out that way,"........
"Valerie Jo, Roy doesn't want you, Rita never wanted me. Don't you see?" he said
earnestly. "God has reunited what he had planned all along. He created you and me for each
other. God presented you to me, 27 years ago on the steps of O.L. Slaton Junior High. He
presented you to me as my bride. It's true, it's true, can't you see?" he added pleading with her.
"When you walked into the room at my house for the first time, and I saw your beautiful face, I
cried, 'Oh God, why couldn't it have been me and Valerie Jo,'" he continued on. "You did?"
Valerie asked in surprise. "I did the same thing, Harlan. I said exactly the same thing in my
mind when I saw you!" "I'll bet that we both thought it at exactly the same time," he said
chuckling. "You were always supposed to be mine. I married Rita on the rebound from losing
you. I couldn't believe you'd married Jimmy Fields," he told her. "Harlan, I just married Jimmy
because I had to. I was pregnant with his baby. I tried to get you to make love to me,
remember? I knew you'd marry me if you thought I was pregnant with your child," Valerie told
him. "I didn't know. Why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't desecrate what God had presented to
me. I would have died to protect your honor. Valerie, I would have married you if you were
pregnant with someone else's baby," he told her. "God reminded me of Hosea, chapter 2, verse
15 through 23. It's about a harlot. He's speaking of Israel in these verses, but the story goes like
this: God gives this king a prostitute as his wife. The man loves her deeply. She leaves the man
and gives herself away, free, to anyone who would have her. The king always loved her and
after many years he was passing through a town and saw her being auctioned off on an auction
block for a little of nothing. She was used up, haggard and worth nothing to anyone but this
man, her husband. To him she was worth everything. He bought her back, and even though he
didn't have to, he paid a great price for her that day. He forgave her of all she had ever done as
though it had never happened, and he showered her with love and adorned her with praise and
won her heart greater than it could have ever been won had she not strayed away from him to
begin with." "Wow, what a beautiful love story. Walt Disney should have glommed on to that
one, sounds like a fairy tale," Valerie said completely awed. "It wasn't Rita that God was
showing me in that Bible chapter; it was you! The king's wife came back to him and two
children with her. It couldn't be Rita. "Oh great... some prize. I'm the whore? What a deal,"
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Valerie said. "Yes, you're the prize, something very precious. I'm talking about you, not what
you can give, but who you are. Valerie Jo, yes you're the prize. Nobody has ever wanted you,
but I've always wanted you to come home to me. You belong to me, you always have," Harlan
told her pleading with such longing in his eyes like she had never seen except, when she looked
at herself in the mirror. "You were my wife, not theirs," he continued. "If I have to let you go
again, I am a very patient man. I can wait no matter how long it takes. Remember the toilet
vision you told me you had when you went to that workshop on rape and incest victims? I'm that
toilet, Valerie Jo, this ol' plumber, Harlan. God was telling you ahead of time that I would be the
one that He would be using to heal you. Let Him put one handful at a time through me and flush
your pain and suffering into nothingness with the ocean of His love through me.” Wow, sounded
like poetry to her. “I'm here for you baby," he told her. Valerie sat there in a state of confusion
as her mind questioned the reality of this moment. It was true that Roy had given her a decision
about it being him, or God and the Outreach. She couldn't have it all any more. Harlan said that
he would help her with her children and love them because they were hers, and as far as
Operation Outreach was concerned, well... he was a preacher, and of course he would be the
wind beneath her wings......
When Valerie got back to her grandmother's, real late that night, Mae started ragging on
her about the neighbors talking about her granddaughter that came wandering in at all hours of
the night. Valerie started crying uncontrollably. She cried so hard from deep inside herself, as if
a flushing was happening from deep within, or she was vomiting emotions that were to toxic to
hold inside any longer. Mae didn't know what to say about the pain Valerie was in so, she
apologized and they sat and talked for hours. Mae almost felt like Valerie had a mother. Harlan
wanted her to stay another week, yet there was Michael's dentist appointment, Monday; and
Rebecca's Wednesday. Rebecca was supposed to get her new braces on her teeth with some of
the money from the settlement from the wreck. Valerie had a doctor's appointment about that
cyst problem. There was Michael's game Thursday and Michelle's birthday, Friday. Sandy,
Valerie's secretary at the Outreach, was going on a vacation beginning Friday. Then there was
the board meetings, more football games, rent past due on her apartment, and the car needed
tags. Valerie went to bed and buried her face in the pillow. What was she to do? She was torn,
standing at the edge of a cliff. She couldn't go back. There was no place to go, or was there? If
she jumped off here, was there anyone to catch her fall? Was God truly in this decision, or was
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Satan at his deceptive tricks again... which might just cost Valerie everything in life she thought
was worth living for? What was she going to do?
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART III
"THE RESTORATION OF ALL THINGS"
(CONCLUSION)
THERE IS NO SYNOPSIS FOR PART III
ONLY MANUSCRIPT ~
IN CLOSING
Valerie Jo has gleaned the waste products of her life and offered them to be recycled into
something useful for the sake of humanity. For the benefit of women everywhere that are locked
inside themselves crying out to be set free, she wants them to know that they’re not alone. The
message she would like to bring to them is this: “no matter where you have been, no matter what
you have done, today can become your once in a lifetime.”
Philippians 3: 13-15
Baruch Haba B’shem Adonai
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BEAUTY FOR ASHES
(The Healing of Valerie Jo Continues)
Ecclesiastes 12:12-14
“And further, my son, be admonished by this:
Of making many books there is no end,
and much study is wearisome to the flesh.
Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter:
Fear God and keep His commandments,
For this is the whole duty of man.
For God will bring every work into judgment,
Including every secret thing,
Whether it is good or
Whether it is evil.
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

 is the trademark of our healing; making a
statement of who we are as a female from beginning to
end. Whether we are snared in an area of dysfunction, or
now experiencing the fullness of who we are at our
particular time and place, the 3 Roses show the multidimensional qualities within our healing process.
The 3 Rose roses are YOU ~
As a child: the "Rose Bud" is tightly folded and
veiled within itself, with a tear sliding down the tender
petal, which represents the kind of hurts a child should
never have to bear. While all the while she is holding
inside the seeds of a promised life filled with purpose
and meaning, not yet ready to unfold, she protects herself from the harshness of the days to come; naive
of the essence of beauty and fragrance preserved until her season is at hand. All alone on a precipice,
holding onto her secrets, she awaits her time.
"The second flower" is beginning to slowly unfold. While she experiences a metamorphosis,
which is out of her control, cautiously and ever so slowly she peaks out from behind her curtains. Layer
upon layer she reveals. Through the wind, the sun and the rain her seasons pass. Her blooming
experience is an outward expression of beauty, while hidden secretes cry out from deep within. Her
fragrance is faintly released and almost unnoticed. It's painful at this place; part is growing, part is afraid
to let go, and growth is sometimes stunted with this double kind of pain. Will she ever be all she was
meant to become? Will she find what is needed to get her there?
"The third flower" is in full bloom. And her essence glistens as
she takes her leap of Grace and enfolds all that she was ever meant to
become. She IS wisdom and beauty and strength. She has become
“The Restoration Rose." Her full fragrance touches and delights
the atmosphere for all who will stop to breathe her in. The long awaited
promise is here: bitter tears are gone, and in their place is a newness of
heart. She has become wondrous in experience, knowledge,
understanding and wisdom, as she spends the remainder of her days
shrouded in dignity and bathed in celestial springs of joy-filled tears.
“Your day of DIGNITY is coming!”
www.3Rose.com
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