Treasures of the Heart

My Thoughts At Christmas

2011-12-22T16:00:00.000-06:00

Each year that goes by it seems I get more nostalgic, more appreciative and full of wonder. As one of my ex-clients used to say "Yes, Audrey life is much simpler when one is less wealthy." Well, simpler in some respects, less cluttered, maybe? It seems, for me, my senses are more keen, might be a function of living in survival mode. I have come to enjoy moments that I previously didn't behold, maybe I was going too fast or had too much piled into my days. Here are some of my favorites:

The sweet smiles, belly-laughs and words coming from Nate, my special needs son, who I was told when he was just 5 years old he was "rather hopeless" and would "probably just need to be institutionalized." He is now 20 years old and one of my greatest pleasures in life.
Watching Brandon become a fine young man, as he works, goes to college and plays the keyboards in a band called "Set The Sun". He wants it all and is reaching for the stars. He is not afraid to state his opinion or ask a question when things don't make sense. He portrays strength, determination, yet still has a place for acts of kindness. He recently bought me a peppermint mocha at Starbucks, now that is kindness!
My husband's resolve to get up each day, move around when his body screams "NO". It warms my heart to see him fight hard for a certain quality in his life. And regardless of the pain he can always find room for one more joke.
All the people who have never left my side (or that of my family's) through the tough times. These people have helped when we have needed help, sometimes that help took the form of a word of encouragement, a quoted Bible verse or a heartfelt hug, other times much more.
The people at St Andrew's Methodist Church, the Seven Loaves Program, who open their arms to us and always call Nate by name. They include us in their prayer circles and thank God for the opportunity to serve us. Nate usually sings through their prayers while I silently include my thanks to God for their being there and pray for the day when I can pay forward.
I am grateful for the fine people of Project: Not Guilty who stand behind me on my case and give great encouragement and support. Likewise for those in the Innocence Project (Texas and Chicago) who provide insight and encouragement even though my case is non-DNA. I pray also for the day when I am able to give back by helping those in the same predicament (or "pickle" as my husband once called it).
I love the childhood memory of growing up in Maryland and eating snow ice cream, dancing around the Christmas tree and sitting quietly by the fireplace....just feeling the warmth and security of our home, family and faith.

I notice this year the outside Christmas decorations seem more sparkly, the colors of Christmas seem more vibrant and the Christmas songs more touching. We have one Christmas decoration up this year. It is this beautiful wreath made by my dear and talented friend Michele Mosser. She made it for us in 2001 and it is still shining brightly. I tried to take a picture of it to show you but the picture didn't begin to portray its beauty so you'll just have to come see it and stay for a cup of coffee!

Now here is a Christmas picture from the past, one of my favorite places (for Nancy, get out your magnifying glass - there is a manger scene in there):

May the spirit of Christ be with you as you celebrate Christmas and head into the New Year!

Love to each of you,

Audrey

Occupy Wall Street - Lessons From The Past

2011-10-10T18:33:00.000-05:00

The Occupy Wall Street protests are bringing back memories of a different time, one I'd like to share with you. There are obvious differences between these two movements and there are parallels that cannot be ignored.

On a cool, crisp spring day, April 4, 1968, I had retreated into our basement in our Maryland home. I was 13 years old and loved to sew. Our sewing machine was set up in our comfortable family room. With a finished out basement it was like living in a two story home. Our old Singer sat on the old red card table. With iron and ironing board close by and the cutting board splayed across the floor I was busy creating new summer outfits. Along side me was our radio. It was tuned to WPGC and I was listening to all the hits of the day with Wolfman Jack as the radio announcer (this was years before he became syndicated). Wolfman was asking us to call in our requests. The Vietnam War was in full swing and many of the songs on the radio reflected the sentiments of the war.

Then all at once the radio program was interrupted to report the shooting of Martin Luther King. I had some knowledge of the civil rights movement as my civics teacher had included MLK and his work in our class lectures during that school year. I remember how she introduced this subject. On a little record player she had brought from home she played The Young Rascals song People Got To Be Free. A presentation I will never forget.

I knew what I had just heard on the radio about MLK was tragic and important. I ran upstairs to tell my mother. Later that evening, our family gathered around our little black and white television as the facts unfolded. His violent death rocked the entire nation, riots were shooting up everywhere. What scared me the most was the riots and looting were heavy on the Washington DC/Maryland line. We lived just seven miles south of DC, across Branch Ave. from Andrews Air Force base, in a small town called Clinton. But, even worse, my mom worked in the office of a retail store called Woodward & Lothrops, located right on the DC line. My mom felt she needed to continue to go to work and believed she would be safe. But as the riots and looting continued and fanned out, the area where she worked became questionable. My dad called her at work and insisted she come home while we all waited impatiently for her. She returned to us safe and we were relieved.

What then transpired after the days of rioting subsided were buses and buses from all over the country bringing black people to DC. They came as a memorial to MLK, they came peacefully out of respect for MLK's life works and they came to make peaceful demonstrations on the need for government intervention in civil rights. Their methods were a way of honoring and progressing MLK's messages. Demonstrating the need for action now.

Shantytown was constructed surrounding the long Reflection Pool between the stately Lincoln Memorial and the towering Washington Monument. It was made up of tents and lean-to open room shacks set out to house those who were bused into DC. My parents took our family to see Shantytown. We climbed up the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and looked out toward the Washington Monument. As we looked over the quiet and orderly temporary town built within the nation's capital my father said to us "Look carefully and remember. I want you to see this, as history is being made today." I remember tears coming to my eyes, I was touched. There before me represented a great deal of pain and determination. My dad further explained, good people were standing up for themselves, asking for equality and justice.

Their purpose was to get both houses of Congress and the President to take notice and understand the importance and power behind the long needed changes in legislating civil rights for all. They were perhaps the greatest and most convincing lobbyist of our time, a formidable power. It was past time to place the Constitution of the United States, as agreed upon by our founding fathers, into play for all citizens. In this case, laws were needed to direct social issues, ensure equal opportunities and treatment, and eventually move stubborn attitudes that had persisted since the days of slavery.

As a result over the next several years, there was an outpouring of civil rights legislated and affirmative action programs initiated....and change occurred at all levels. It is still far from perfect, but there have been great strides.

There were vital aspects of this movement that made it successful. The people were speaking from their hearts, they were determined, they were highly organized with very specific goals and they approached our country's lawmakers with the greatest respect, even when they were not entirely trusting of those people who had been voted into place.

Our current day OWS have some legitimate complaints, our country has long been in economic crisis and we cannot go on as we are. We are sorely in need of Congress working together rather than all the political posturing we see. We agree there cannot be waste of our tax dollars. This past weekend we saw many people joining this movement who have spent a lifetime working hard and have lost everything. So many people are unemployed who want to work, they are not looking for handouts. They are demanding answers, they are demanding opportunities. They are demanding our country work together to resolve these outstanding issues. Yes, there are many individual agendas, there appears to be some disorganization but they could learn from the days that followed MLK's death, from a movement that was peaceful, organized and clear about what they wanted to see change.

One of their biggest complaints is that of greed. It is my humble opinion they will get nowhere with that approach. Greed has existed since the beginning of time....its there in the Bible. Further, are the wealthy people and corporations being greedy or are they operating within the boundaries which have been set out by our laws and maximizing profits as called for in their purpose and agreement with stockholders? Have we forgotten the massive numbers of charitable organizations funded by these individuals and groups? On the other hand, is it right for the government to take hard earned tax dollars and bail out the largest financial institutions which turn around and pay millions in bonuses to a few? That is hard to swallow, especially when we see the unemployment lines and the millions in bread lines and soup kitchens. And how about the failing small businesses? We see more and more empty store fronts each day.

The OWS are asking for a return to democracy, whereby we have a government representative of all its people. This is not about Obama, this is not about Bush, this is about a country that is fractured and needs healing. This is about listening to the people...we the people.... But OWS methods can make them or break them. They need a responsible leadership group within their organization. They do not need outsiders from the Mideast coming in and taking charge and teaching violence. Nothing will be accomplished that way, with violence our cities will just become more broken.

So for today, I pray, if their decision is to persist then they will become more organized, determine how best to accomplish their goals and become very specific in those goals, working within the system as the civil rights movement did in the late 60's.

Transformation Within the Jail/Prison Culture

2011-09-07T11:33:00.000-05:00

I want to write often, as many things come to my mind, but so much relates to the details of my case and as you know that part has been shut down for the time. In staying with the purpose of my blog I have somewhat limited my scope. In thinking over this dilema I have returned to my book draft and the very earliest experiences of my case, I believe there are things I can speak to as they have nothing to do with my defense, the prosecution, pretrial hearings or the trial itself.

As a business woman, mom and rule follower, not at all acquainted with our justice system, I found I was in for an enormous culture shock. Part of the preparation I had to handle this was in the 70's at the University of New Mexico. I had taken a few sociology and psychology classes and from one of those had a reading assignment that made a tremendous impact on my thinking. Alvin Toffler's book "Future Shock" was the beginning of my training grounds. His definition of "future shock" was "too much change in too short a period of time". Ah, yes that certainly did happen to me. While Toffler was talking about the accelerated rate of technological and social change leaving us disconnected and with a feeling of "shattering stress and disorientation", I could apply that feeling to the culture I found in the bowels of our justice system, that being the county jail in Santa Fe, New Mexico. In addition, my many years of attending courses at The Option Institute in Sheffield, MA, coupled with my Christian beliefs brought me through the experience.

I was first contacted by a Dallas PD detective December 9, 2003. I was then indicted by a Grand Jury in March 2004. I was officially notified of that indictment by a call from the DPD detective on the morning of April 5, 2004. Following that call I spoke to several attorneys both in New Mexico and Texas. I was arrested 48 hours later on April 7, as I was on the phone arranging payment and transfer of information to a Dallas attorney. I was taken to the county jail in Santa Fe. It was an entire week before I was released on bail. That week is what I want to share with you over the next couple blog posts. Following is an excerpt from my book draft:

Being in jail was like walking into a whole different country with a completely new language. My first 32 hours were spent in the holding cell. There were 8 to 10 of us women at any time, dressed in red pants and shirts, sitting on benches that surround the inner wall, with a metal toilet sitting at one end of the room. At the other end was the door which was bolted, latched and electronically controlled, with a long thin window. The walls were made of cinder block and painted a dreary white, the floors were cement, which I understand is quite vogue these days. This was a stark contrast from the last time I stayed overnight in Santa Fe at the beautiful La Fonda Inn on the square with my two young sons.

There was absolutely nothing to do, so we all just talked like we'd known each other for years. Now some had heard of each other or knew of family members or distant relatives and a couple had an old boyfriend in common. This appeared to be a very small world that seemed to reacquaint itself from generation to generation inside these barricaded walls. Some were buying their supplies of crack from another's mother, while others were looking for a new source. This holding cell was a true place for "power" networking, depending on how one defines power.

     Every sentence spoken had the "F-word" at least once and one time I was able to count up to four "F-words" in one sentence. I had to ask the woman how she did that, I was amazed at how she structured the sentence, and would have written it down if I'd only had a paper and pencil. The "F-word" can be used as an adjective, verb, noun, pronoun, adverb, even a dangling participle. To think, Webster's doesn't even seem to know this.

     It took about three hours before anyone asked me why I was there; I hadn't offered and was content to listen to everybody else's stories. But, even there, the rules of being a group member apply. Once I started to explain, it seemed they were mesmerized because my story was so different from the others and we spent the next two hours on the subject of autism, belief systems and changing attitudes that create new beliefs.

     What seemed to take place in those two hours was a group of women with very little hope transforming to a place of hope. After all, if there can be hope for these special needs kids who have been written off by society, couldn't there also be hope for them? This is a transformation they were able to generalize for themselves, it was not a thought I had directed. As humans, when we hear something, we naturally put it in perspective by seeing how it relates to self. After just three hours in jail, I had become an avid student of my fellow inmates, learning and adapting to this new culture. And, within four hours I found myself informally teaching (albeit to a captured audience) belief systems and how they mold our experiences.

     "No place to go, nothing to do." Those were the words in a recent relaxation exercise in which I had participated. These words were meant to clear the clutter and chatter we carry in our heads. In jail, there were hours where time ticked away slower than I could barely stand, and to think I had actually worked at finding this place in my mind just a few weeks earlier. Everything I had come to know in the healing of my life was being tested. I found it difficult to sit still, especially since I didn't know how long I would be there and if they would ship me to Texas, regardless of my fear for my life. I knew the key to my sanity was to move out of these thoughts and stay completely in the present moment. I remembered one of the quotes from Barry Neil Kaufman's books "Unhappiness exists either as a regret about the past or a worry about the future. The cure: be present." I had the answer, now it was up to me to find that place of peacefulness and calm inside of me, only focusing on the moment.

     While public speaking and training others I had taught people we are in charge of our every life experience, I was struggling to hold that lesson for myself through the long, excruciating hours. I had to keep taking charge of my wandering fearful and angry thoughts. In the past I could move on by just consuming myself with doing something and quite often that took the form of allowing numbers to just wash through my existence. Someone in the cell started counting the cinder blocks to make the time go by. Those numbers did not comfort me; they only served to irritate me. I could not use my left brain to hide this time; I had to pull from the depths of my soul to keep going.

     Another thing I had to learn was my every request would be ignored. I supposed this was some form of behavior modification, perhaps trying to teach us this was not the place to be. Or maybe this is where people worked who had a need to wield power over those who are helpless and did so under the guise of the penal system. I suspect the answer is both behavior modification and bullying needs being met; another form of displaced anger which continues to be fueled. I remember thinking, no wonder most inmates don't rehabilitate, there appears to be two responses to this treatment, one is anger and the other is to withdraw, each a matter of survival. I thought of the children who had come to us at The NOAH Project (special school for children with autism) from a behavior modification discipline and how some came in very angry and violent while the others were completely exclusive (within their own world), there seemed no middle ground.

     Instead of the two extremes, I wanted that middle ground. I was looking for a happy place inside of me so time would pass effortlessly and I could create the best experience for myself moment to moment with every person I met, rather that person was a jailer, inmate or visitor. This became my focus and I found myself a much happier participant of what originally seemed to be an unfriendly, rigid system. I wanted to move beyond the survival mode to a place of meaningful existence.

     There were times I could feel anger building and building inside of me, like a spiral down to darkness. There was anger toward my false accusers and the Detective. Sometimes the anger circled in my head as if it would explode and I would ask myself the questions, "How is this anger helping me? Is it somehow serving me?" and the answer was always "No." Then I'd remind myself, what we focus on becomes bigger. Years earlier, while working with Nate (my special needs son) in our home based program, I had decided to commit myself to love, compassion and being present to live each moment fully. By the end of the second day in jail I re-upped that commitment and repeated if often through those first four days.

     I found I had to consciously direct my focus on what I wanted. When I did this, I was able to create much more positive actions which clearly served me. Eventually my focus for what I wanted became constant and a calm came over me. I came to believe no matter what happened I would be okay, letting go of the results and trusting, how often I had taught that to parents of children with autism. I then grew that light by giving myself a mental exercise of listing in my head, all that I was grateful for and sending that list up to God, it helps to share. I felt an intense sweet joy in those moments, a most unlikely attitude under these circumstances, but oh how it served me and my desire to have a meaningful existence.

I will continue with the story of that week when I make my next post. Until then, think of all that you are grateful for and up the amps by 1,000.... Don't forget to share your gratitude as part of upping those amps! WOW, what a difference that can make in your life!

Habeas Update

2011-09-04T12:48:00.002-05:00

Tuesday, September 6, 2011 marks a deadline related to the filing of my habeas corpus application. It is by this date in which the prosecution and the trial attorney for my case have to respond to my habeas application. Based on their responses the Judge will decide if there is to be a hearing prior to forwarding my habeas application on to the Appellate Court. I have felt confident and prayed a lot on this. Although this weekend, coming up to the date, I allowed some fear to sneak in because of what happened previously in my trial, now 4 years ago (9/10/07).

I have been doing daily devotionals with a dear friend of mine. We are using Max Lucado's devotional book called "Grace For The Moment - Volume 1". Each day I find that day's devotional speaks to me in some way. Today the devotional could not have been louder! God is such a wonder! Here are the words from Max Lucado's book:

God Our Defender

Here is a big question. What is God doing when you are in a bind? When the lifeboat springs a leak? When the rip cord snaps? When the last penny is gone before the last bill is paid?...

I know what we are doing. Nibbling our nails like corn on the cob. Pacing floors. Taking pills......

But what does God do?...

He fights for us. He steps into the ring and points us to our corner and takes over. "Remain calm; the Lord will fight for you." (Exodus 14:14).

His job is to fight. Our job is to trust.

Just trust. Not direct. Or question....Our job is to pray and wait.

WOW!! How powerful and true. I have already proven that I couldn't win this case on my own. There is only ONE whom is all powerful and has the strength to fight evil. I needed this. Have faith! Pray and wait! I can do that. Nothing is gained by sitting in fear, in fact it diminishes my faith and trust. Once again, the lesson here is SURRENDER, allow God in my life, to do what He promises. I need to stop getting in His way.

I found another verse (one of many) that was so applicable and comforting:

1 Peter 3:12-14
For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous and his ears are attentive to their prayer, but the face of the Lord is against those who do evil." Who is going to harm you if you are eager to do good? But even if you should suffer for what is right, you are blessed. "Do not fear what they fear; do not be frightened."

Source: Holy Bible, New International Version

My job...to pray and wait.......

"A Child's Bill of Rights"

2011-08-22T00:16:00.000-05:00

My cousin, Nancy, has an excellent post about really giving children the time they need to make decisions and do things their way. And, oh, what a freeing experience for all involved. Her blog post is entitled School Is Starting. It inspired me to share with you "A Child's Bill of Rights", which is so very important to keep in mind as we parent, teach and care for our children (even after they are grown). We framed this and had it hanging at The NOAH Project. As teachers and administrators at our school for children with autism, we respected these rights as they were at the core of our belief system. When children literally cannot speak up for themselves these rights become even more important, as they are more likely to be overlooked.

A Child's Bill of Rights

by Fred M. Fariss

I have the right to live rather than exist.
I have a right to personhood rather than being an object of possession.
I have a right to equality with every other human being regardless of age.
I have a right to be respected with regard to my worth.
I have a right to be uniquely myself with my own identity.
I have a right to speak my thoughts and feelings, and to be heard.
I have a right to ask "Why" and to receive answers.
I have a right to receive discipline without hollering, discounts and put-downs.
I have a right to be encouraged to grow to maturity at my own pace.
I have a right to be free from physical harm at the hands of resentful people.
I have a right to be loved for being me.
I have a right, with valid guidance, to think for myself, and to make decisions.
I have a right to be responsible for myself.
I have a right to feel joy, happiness, sorrow, bereavement and pain.
I have a right to be a winner.
I have the right to care and be cared for, to nurture and be nurtured, to give and to receive.
I have a right to form my own convictions, beliefs and standards.
I have a right to know and experience personal freedom.
I have the right to recognize and accept the rights of others regarding their Bill of Rights.

While on the subject of rights, as I was in my last post, and with the new school year beginning it seems appropriate to post this. Interesting enough, many of us need to give ourselves these permissions as grownups. Some of us did not get these permissions growing up and in other instances we gave them up as we matured. This is really a format for basic human rights. They sure would lend themselves to a healthier and safer world for us all to live in.

First Amendment, Right?

2011-08-12T14:32:00.013-05:00

There is an interesting case which recently surfaced and it relates to our First Amendment Rights and blogging. I've been reading all the comments both for and against. Before I describe to you what is happening I want to set out the actual First Amendment Rights as follows:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

It is my understanding this Amendment speaks to 5 freedoms: (1) freedom to speak freely without government intervention, (2) freedom of press, (3) freedom of religion, (4) freedom to appeal or lobby to legislative bodies for or against legislation, and (5) freedom to peacefully gather in public, to march, demonstrate, protest, or otherwise express views. Further, originally this applied to only those laws enacted by the Federal government but has since been ruled by the Supreme Court to include state and local governments. Sounds pretty simple to me.

So, here is the story. A man by the name of Anthony Morelli who lives in Pennsylvania had a blog which he started in 2007. For 4 years he posted hundreds of blog entries. The blog was entitled "The Psycho Ex Wife" which of course can be seen as offensive right there. He posted as they were going through embittered divorce and custody battles. Further, he posted anonymously, keeping all names out. Their two sons are currently 10 and 12 years old. At present the two parents have joint custody. The ex-wife is an alcoholic and is believed to suffer from a personality disorder.

The tag line on Morelli's blog was "The true account of a marriage, divorce and subsequent custody fight between a loving man, his terrorist ex-wife who we suspect suffers from Borderline Personality Disorder and the husband's new partner." With this blog, Morelli created a community (approximately 200,000 visitors per month) and several forums where people in a similar circumstance could discuss child custody issues, parental alienation syndrome and other assorted divorce challenges. Now that is a strong community and for many, a much needed support group, as they wade through some very grueling court battles and all the days in between.

I know what it is like to live with someone whose sanity is in question. Had this blog existed 20 years ago, I would have been a daily visitor myself. I was dealing with the safety of my children and myself and eventually worked through all the issues, both safety and the legalities of the divorce. Then I had a similar issue...when the court allowed for my ex-husband to have very limited visitation rights. After just a handful of visits he disappeared once again so my concerns were put to rest. With only an occasional call from him once every few years I eventually learned we were relatively safe, his threats of hurting us turned out to be empty.

All that aside though, the reason I have brought this to you is to discuss First Amendment Rights, Judge Diane Gibbons who was presiding over the Morelli custody case ordered Morelli to shut down his blog on June 6th of this year or lose joint custody of his kids. She banned him from mentioning his ex-wife or his children on any public media.

Now you see the question, does the Court have the right to order that blog stopped or punish the blogger if he doesn't do what is ordered. It seems we are looking at two aspects of the First Amendment. One, freedom of speech says we have the right to speak freely without government interference. And, two, freedom of press establishes the right to publish news, information and opinions without government intervention. This includes newspapers, magazines, newsletters, etc. Wouldn't it then include blogs, for really they are just a form of newsletter?

We could argue the pro's and con's all day as to its content. It seems to me if it mischaracterizes the ex-wife then she has a libel/slander suit on her hands, although we don't hear anything about that. The judge appears to be concerned about the children being subjected to this information about their mom (as if they aren't living in the midst of it) and calls it abusive. Yet we are not hearing her concern for the safety of the children in the clutches (and custody) of their alcoholic mother. I was married to an alcoholic, and I divorced him for that reason and all the abuse that goes along with alcoholism. I needed to raise my children in a healthy environment and could accept nothing less for their sake. Where is the judge standing on that? As I said, we could argue all day long the pro's and con's but what is legally accurate?

As always, your comments are welcome and I invite you to research the topic yourself as there is a great deal of media out there concerning this and even more peoples' comments who swear the blog was the best thing or the worst thing. What are your thoughts to the shut down of a blog that was just being brutally honest?

"Right Brained People Living In A Left Brained World"

2011-06-09T14:44:00.033-05:00

The title of this post is borrowed from a book with the title: Right-Brained Children in a Left-Brained World by Jeffrey Freed and Laurie Parsons. The copyright date is 1997. I bought this book back in the late 90's when I realized I was faced with two very intelligent, very right brained boys (my sons, Nate and Brandon) and was having a very difficult time relating....and so were their teachers. By the way the subtitle to this book is (you many have already guessed) Unlocking The Potential of Your ADD Child. I know what you might be saying, oh please, this is such an old subject. Well, not really, it is very pertinent for many reasons. Stick with me on this, it is more fun than you may think and has far greater applications than you may have imagined.

I have been considered very left brained all my life, which is actually somewhat unusual for a woman. I am analytical, math oriented, rational, logical and linear in my thought. And it is my left brain that made me put that linear continuum up there for you to see (it was a stretch to put it on pink paper with purple ink). Had I been a right brained person, I would have been much more creative and had that continuum branching all over the place and in many different colors. Left brained attributes are quite often assigned to men, whereas women are generally more spontaneous, imaginative, emotional, sensitive and creative creatures or right brained. Now look at the attributes assigned to ADD and ADHD children: impulsive, hypersensory, sensitive, daydreamers, visual, distractible and in many cases hyperactive. There are far more detail descriptions, but I will leave that to you if you want to research further.

I wanted to understand everything I could about this phenomenon or what really comes down to different learning styles, because I wanted to help my boys and their teachers work through the obstacles that right brained thinking poses for left brained people in our socially acceptable left brained world. And I wanted to do it without my children taking any prescribed drugs. I am not a believer in medicating our youth (or adults for that matter). Although what I saw and experienced during my time locked up caused me to realize there are some people who do benefit with some help, as they are non-functioning otherwise.

I gained a great deal of understanding from this book and I think it helped me in my parenting as well, especially when it came to helping Nate (with autism) learn at all and with Brandon, in how solutions and methods for solving were presented. For both, once they had a visual of something they could work it every which way. As for Nate he could say the alphabet as fast backward as he did forward which was very fast. Pictures became the center of his learning. And he could read and remember like nothing I had ever experienced in my life.

With Brandon, he was the grand winner of the school spelling bees, year after year, because we pictured things together in his practice and once he realized he could spell words backwards and forward with the same speed, by utilizing the pictures in his head, he knew he could spell any word he had ever seen, because he could access the picture of that word in his head. Brandon was very artistic, he had beautiful and detailed drawings but as the grades progressed the school was not interested in developing that gift, in fact his drawing became a problem for teachers, in subjects other than art. In helping him with math homework, I knew I was in trouble. Brandon could visualize an answer (not doing the steps), whereas I was interested in taking him through the steps, because that is the way I think and I knew many teachers look for that as proof of understanding and doing your own work. But when we would sit at the kitchen table to work together, within 5 to 10 minutes he would literally turn around in his chair with his back to me and the little help session was over. He just didn't get it that way!! But when I searched for answers, I found that if I could explain a concept with pictures and allow him to tell me how he was seeing things, then we'd have a home run.

All of this caused me to become more creative, more observant and open to change if I wanted to relate to my boys and others like them. As part of my love for my boys I wanted to be useful in helping them to succeed. I am sure I share this with many parents out there.

As young adults, my sons both love music, art, are very visual and express their feelings loud and clear. Brandon has taught himself to play the keyboards and is in a band, in addition to working almost full time and going to college full time. He has learned to take his hyperactivity and focus it in ways that will benefit him. I have to remind him to sleep. Nate still loves to read, enjoys anything visual and is my most loving gentle giant.

When I developed The NOAH Project, we had a lengthy reading list of books as part of the training. The book I have mentioned in this post was of course high on that list. And many of our teachers/child facilitators made a point to tell me they really enjoyed it as it helped them to understand how there are truly different learning styles and for some it helped them to better understand their selves. Definitely a good read. In this day, the age of laptops, video games and iPhones, the VISUALS are winning out. More and more of the kids are fitting into this pattern, if not born this way, they become this way by the time they are 3 to 4 years old as a result of being surrounded by our current day technologies. For us old dinosaurs we have to move with them or be left in the dust.

All of that brings me to my point. The jails and prisons are just loaded with right brained people. I could not believe the talent of those incarcerated. Singing voices that would just bring you to your knees with tears in your eyes. And prison art is extraordinary. I learned some while I was in there and I wanted to share it with you. What I brought home is a combination of my doodles and that of others. Nancy (my dear cousin), if you are reading this, know that you inspired this blog post with your blog post Doodle that! Follow that link for more fun! Below is some of the prison art I brought home:

This is just a small sampling. Do you know, with exception of just a handful of women, most women I met in prison did miserably in school, many fell through the cracks at an early age,

yet they are talented, in a very right brained way. How many of these women, would you dare to guess, learn in a different way? By the time a child gets to the third grade, the teaching style becomes predominantly auditory and very left brained. What about the visual learners! That is also when behavior problems become so prevalent. If behavior problems were addressed in a positive way, meaning how can we teach you in a different way, how can we develop the skills you have, how can we help you in the best way to prepare for life (instead of trying to force a square peg into a round hole)...would our jails and prisons still be full to the brim? I dare say NOT!

The system failed many of these people at a very early age. It is my understanding the men's prison and jails have many talented people also. A whole lot of right brained people stubbing their toes in a left brained world....leading to incarceration. There are those who argue we should not educate people in prison, they messed up when they had their chance. I ask why not? The system failed them before, when they were kids being batted around, why not a second chance? And why not in a learning style that is conducive to their developmental growth. Our right brain is known for our survival skills. Many of these people did not have the best of home environments during their early years thus having to focus on survival, perhaps not able to make the jump to their left brain skills. But, while separated from the streets, can you think of a better time to reach these people and help them become productive members of society. They will be our neighbors, they are our fellow human beings, so why not help them get what they need to grow skills through education in a way they can learn and blossom?

We also have to address making a place for these people when they come out. A discussion on bettering people incarcerated falls by the wayside if we don't change our attitudes about those with a background and allow them a second (or third) chance by employing them and for that matter welcoming them into our churches. The statistics now reflect one in five people in this country have a criminal background. We have to educate and we have to change our attitudes so we can all become winners in this game of life.

FAMOUS RIGHT BRAINED PEOPLE:

Sir Isaac Newton

Aristotle

Albert Einstein

Leonardo Da Vinci

Jonas Salk

Thomas Alva Edison

Galileo Galilei

Socrates

Bill Gates

Benjamin Franklin

Steven Spielberg

Alexander Graham Bell

Thomas Jefferson

Abraham Lincoln

Pablo Picasso

How HE Wants Us To Live

2011-06-03T16:29:00.008-05:00

Being an older person in jail/prison has its benefits. While the environment is volatile and rife with violence and fear, there are many who seem to actually respect and treat with consideration the elders. Being in my early 50's I qualified as a grandma type figure or "elder". Although during the first 19 months I was in Dallas County Jail following my trial and awaiting results of the initial stages of my appeal I did run in to a few women right off the street who wanted to take on anybody and everybody. That is a lifestyle I have never lived and having never physically fought I was no match for anyone, yet there were at least two instances at Dallas County where I had to stand my ground one way or another.

Both instances happened in a medical general population tank at the Government Center in Dallas, also known as the George Allen Building. In a tank there were 5 cells, and in each of the 5 cells there were 5 inmates. So, in the tank's dayroom that we all shared there was 25 of us. At night, between 11/12 p.m. and about 4 a.m. we were locked into our cell with our cellmates, so just 5 of us during that time.

I was having a difficult time with one of the women who had recently moved into our cell. She had a reputation of lieing, picking fights and cheating at cards. She was about 22 years old, a bully and very loud. Her crime was stealing credit cards from little old ladies purses who were shopping at Walgreens Drug Stores. She apparently was wanted by many and showed up on several security videos, as most every day she was called out to the magistrate court to receive more charges against her. Last I knew she had well over 50 different charges brought against her. At any rate, you can see by the crime that she was a predator of the elder so my age was probably a red flag to her but not in a good way.

One night once they had locked the cell for the 4 - 5 hours she started yelling at me. I don't recall what set her off, if anything. I just turned my back and ignored her but I also did not sleep a wink. I was having such a difficult time that after breakfast at 4 in the morning I just stayed out in the dayroom with my Bible. I opened it up and was immediately drawn to Chapter 4 in Colossians. As I'm sure you know, Colossians was written by apostle, Paul, while imprisoned. The Bible I had (sent to me by Sam, Nancy's husband and my minister) was The Message version, which is current day dialect, perfect for my understanding. Colossians 4: 2 - 6 is as follows:

"Pray diligently. Stay alert, with your eyes wide open in gratitude. Don't forget to pray for us, that God will open doors for telling the mystery of Christ, even while I'm locked up in this jail. Pray that every time I open my mouth I'll be able to make Christ plain as day to them. Use your head as you live and work among outsiders. Don't miss a trick. Make the most of every opportunity. Be gracious in your speech. The goal is to bring out the best in others in a conversation, not put them down, not cut them out."

Wow! It certainly changed how I handled things. Instead of fighting back or getting ugly with gossip I took the more positive approach. There were no more outbursts by her toward me and I was able to get some sleep, trusting that when my eyes were closed I would be safe. I was so thankful for the Bible and most especially for getting direction as to how to live, even under the worst of circumstances.

The other situation I wanted to tell you about started while my husband, Ron, was visiting one evening. At the Government Center, the visiting was a bit different because of it being such an old facility. The visitors actually came down the hall to where our tank was located and there were small (3" by 6") type windows at eye level, where we would stand and talk to one another's eyes while speaking over telephone receivers. When looking in these small windows the visitors would actually have a look into our dayroom and the bars beyond that were our cells. Intermittently between our little visitor windows were pay phones for inmates making calls out.

Back to that evening, I had just started my visit with Ron and this other inmate (a prostitute who had just been arrested and placed in our tank) had decided to use the pay phone right next to me (probably just 2 feet away) and she started screaming at the person (I was told it was her pimp) on the phone with her. I calmly asked her to quiet down as I was visiting, so she then starts screaming at the top of her lungs at me. Next I raised my voice just slightly and told her again to move to another phone. An officer happened by and told us to stop it and sent Ron on his way, ending our visit early. I was fuming, Ron had traveled a long way to get there and he could not see well enough to be driving at night in the first place. I said nothing else to her that evening or the next couple days. Every time she would walk by me she would brush up against me. I wondered what that was all about and the women I played cards with told me that's what they do to start a fight. I had no idea, clueless!

I needed to defuse this thing but didn't know how so I returned to my Bible, praying for guidance. The last thing I wanted was a fight. I opened the Bible to 1 Thessalonians, Chapter 5: 13 - 18. Again, it is The Message version and it said:

"Get along among yourselves, each of you doing your part. Our counsel is that you warn the freeloaders to get a move on. Gently encourage the stragglers, and reach out for the exhausted, pulling them to their feet. Be patient with each person, attentive to individual needs. And be careful that when you get on each others' nerves you don't snap at each other. Look for the best in each other, and always do your best to bring it out. Be cheerful no matter what; pray all the time; thank God no matter what happens. This is the way God wants you who belong to Christ Jesus to live."

It was the perfect thing for me to read, righting my attitude. Then just a couple days after that the two of us sat together in the dayroom and shared with each other about our lives and how we came to be in Dallas County Jail. She and I got along beautifully for the rest of our stay in the same tank, showing respect for one another. The day we split up during a massive move of all inmates out of the condemned Government Center she saw me struggling with the weight of my stuff. She offered to help me and I accepted. I remember wanting to cry for her gracious offer and kindness. Then we said goodbye, with smiles, as we went to our new assignments in a different facility. All of that happened in one week's time and OH! what a difference the change in my attitude made.

We can never go wrong by turning to the Word for guidance. I don't know how I could have survived the three years without it. God sure is faithful to us and in my life he used a very difficult environment to show me how His Word works....but then where better to see it so clearly. He had my full attention!

Motherhood in Question?

2011-05-29T16:50:00.007-05:00

I was thinking, over this holiday weekend how good it is to have family together, I just feel so happy to be surrounded by the people I love. Even as we do our own independent activities within our home, I can sense we are close to one another and can feel that warmth and love just radiating from our very beings. I had a difficult time while incarcerated, in fact the hardest part of being locked up was missing my children, the pain was just deep down in the depth of my soul. I had no idea I would have to survive three years away, I don't think I could have even wrapped my thoughts around such a void when I was first ushered into the pits of Dallas County Jail following my trial. I thought surely I would be out on an appeals bond in no time. I couldn't even imagine the Judge setting a bond so high my family couldn't touch it. After all, in the four years prior to my trial I had been on a personal recognizance bond for most of that time and had never violated the terms, showing up in court every two weeks.

One of the biggest issues of this countries' excessive incarceration practices is the destructive force it has on the families in America. Such a destructive force, indeed. Pulling parents away from their children. I used to think the children were better off without those "criminal" parents. Once in there, meeting many good, family oriented, kind and nurturing women I had to really rethink the stereotype I had implanted in my brain. Besides, there I was too and not because of any loathsome lifestyle.

About a year into my incarceration, and still at Dallas County, I finally sat down and wrote a book except, more as a therapy for me than anything else. I needed to sort out my feelings about being ripped away from motherhood, it seemed like the emptiness I felt was going to eat me up, not to mention the lingering anger. Following is that excerpt:

In our society and perhaps all societies a woman's role inside the family includes one of nurturing - to care for and develop the children. Girl children are expected, from an early age, to help their mom with younger children and around the house, while their play most often includes caring for their baby dolls. As little girls we are taught we are valuable if we help others, quite often that is how we receive our acceptance among the adults in our life. There are inherent messages of - it is okay to exist so long as we are needed and useful. The more needed we are, the more purpose we have, the more our existence on this earth is affirmed. Thus, perpetuating the need to be needed. It wraps around and possibly smothers our very being. It even creates a neediness about us. We become extreme givers while some of us attach to extreme takers, resenting it all the while, yet somehow needing it. It is a vicious cycle. We have a hard time receiving anything for ourselves. Our need to give is primary, with taking care of ourselves secondary, at best.

As a child the intrinsic and unstated belief is that it is what we do to survive, to keep from being abandoned. Therefore, one learns to give without boundaries, at what can become a high cost to self, perhaps abandoning self. The very issue of abandonment becomes so internalized, growing our neediness. We look for constant affirmations in our relationships, thereby placing the burden on our loved ones to constantly affirm our existence. This creates a needy mom, one who may figuratively suffocate their children with "love", one who flounders once they become empty-nesters.

It is with this said that I explore my growing resentment toward Ron [my husband] in hopes I can prevent the festering of this in our relationship. If all emotions are based either in fear or love, then resentment is clearly that of fear. What do I fear? I fear that Ron will replace me in the eyes of my boys. I fear I will no longer be needed or valued. I fear if I am no longer needed then I have no reason for being. My career has been destroyed and now it feels like motherhood has been stolen from me. I feel so much grief, bone deep. These are the two ways I have defined myself, as a mom and as a business woman. All was torn away from me once I was convicted and sentenced. So, where does that leave me? In Dallas County jail, with only myself to take care of.

An opportunity to re-parent myself. I know that sounds crazy but here it is, an opening in my life to find value in me, just being, not performing. To not be needed by others, yet still be alive, very much alive. It's beginning to look as though I have an opportunity staring me in the face. And, when I look at it that way, I feel only gratitude toward Ron. This reminds me of a quote from my friend, Bears Kaufman: "when we stand in gratitude, there is no room for unhappiness."

So, I have a choice, I can steep myself in fear or I can steep myself in love. What a grand choice and here I was thinking all choices were taken away from me when I was incarcerated. As I wallowed in resentment I became unaware of choice. But allowing myself to explore this I find they cannot take away my attitude and beliefs.

As I tread through this case against me I have gone through a series of letting go. First it was my career, then material possessions, as I scrambled to pay legal fees and find any job as a means to support us. Then it was my physical freedom. Now, I have the opportunity to let go of my resentment, my fear. Not just any fear, but a made-up fear.

In letting go of that fear I have created a space to redefine myself, to redefine my purpose, to clear out more of the clutter and come to trust myself and my belief in God. Yet another lesson in surrender. Another lesson in choosing love. A chance to learn to nurture myself, thereby growing an interdependent love rather than codependent love for others. How freeing this is and here I thought all my freedoms had been usurped. My captors cannot steal or control my thoughts. I'm in charge of choosing beliefs and corresponding thoughts that enliven a healthy existence; therein lies my continuing commitment to myself and God.

Working through this was a giant step in my survival and really required me to let go even more of the victim role, as that thinking was just making me sick and wearing me down. Once I began to clean up my thinking on this subject, my rational thought returned and I knew that I would always be the mother of Nate and Brandon and nothing could diminish the love we have for one another. We survived our separation from one another. I missed a big chunk of their lives, their high school years, I can't get those years back, but I do have today for which I am infinitely grateful.

Culpable Negligence ?

2011-05-28T12:27:00.017-05:00

We are getting reports whereby the government is finally owning some culpability in the massive, unsafe immunizations that occurred throughout the eighties, nineties and into the new millennium. They have been paying families millions of dollars in settlement money for the vaccine damage to their children which includes autism. We are just finding out about this!?! Autism went from 1 in 10,000 (prior to 1990) to the 1990's ratio of 1 in 150 children and has continued to increase throughout the first decade of 2000 to current day numbers indicating 1 in 100 children effected with autistic traits following immunizations.

In the 1990's thimerisol (a preservative, containing mercury, found in immunizations) was identified as unsafe for many children as their bodies were unable to metabolize metals, in this case mercury. Instead the mercury accumulated to significant amounts and crossed the blood-brain barrier thus causing brain damage, quite often effecting the speech center and sensory systems of these children. If you look up the symptoms of mercury poisoning you find them to be the same as we are seeing in many of our children with autism.

There was a recent article published that indicates continued problems as seen in the statistics above even after taking thimerisol out of the early childhood immunizations. This study identified the introduction of fetal DNA in vaccines as the trigger. The study tells us that "the vaccines contain significant residual human DNA fragments that can insert themselves into vaccine recipient cells........this insertion can cause genomic disruption resulting in autism." To read more about this, see article in ChristianNewsWire describing the "ticking time bomb that has already exploded."

What we learned from the 90's is that autism was no longer considered epidemic proportions but by the end of the 90's had moved into a classification known as pandemic. What we also learned from the 90's was that when these children with autism went through a cheolation process large amounts of mercury and aluminum would show up in their blood and urine samples (far beyond what is considered "normal"). Another bit of information we garnered from the 90's was that when the vaccines were introduced to third world countries, these countries then started to have cases of autism pop up everywhere among their young, freshly immunized children, whereby those countries had never seen a case of autism before. We've known its the immunizations, we've known it does not negatively effect all or even most children...yet we could not get the government (FDA) or the drug companies to own their culpability in the destruction of the productive lives of these children, instead leaving an enormous burden on the families and eventually the Social Security Disability and Medicaid rolls.

I believe most parents with this knowledge are NOT anti-vaccine people but instead share the belief that vaccines should be safe and should be well researched and tested before requiring mass inoculation and in the event there is a question, then we have the right to be informed immediately and decide about the risk for our own children. I know not one of those families are thanking the government for allowing their child to become a guinea pig for their experimentation. And I know not one of those families are thrilled with the thought that the major drug companies producing these vaccines combed in unbelievable amounts of profits as a result of the government requiring mass inoculation. There have been class action suits and individual suits brought against the drug companies, who continue to deny there is any correlation. The drug companies are wealthy beyond measure and for every study brought up in the lawsuits showing cause and effect, they pay for five more studies negating that connection. Remember what I said in my last post, one can always find the evidence to support one's belief (or in this case - agenda). And there can be creation of evidence if needed, as seen in my legal case, by the opposing side.

The recent information of the government "secretly" settling with some families is not a surprise, see this article and short FOXnewscast describing such settlements. The need to keep it secret must have been enormous as there are hundreds of thousands of kids (and their families) negatively impacted. It will be interesting to see what happens now, if anything. A requirement of filing claims with this government program is that the claim must be filed within 3 years of onset. I know for one, when my Nate started changing and showing the signs of withdrawal we did not have this information and in 1992 the doctors were baffled. Diagnosing Nate was like a three ring circus. By the time he was 5 years old he must have had at least 8 different diagnosis, with autism being the last educated guess. You see there is no blood test or genetic test to confirm the diagnosis...it is more a process of elimination and observation of behavior patterns. It wasn't until 2001 that I first learned of the connection between the immunizations and autism and by then Nate was 10 years old and it was far too late to make a claim. Further, the government and the drug companies have bombarded us with the denial of this link between autism and vaccines, even going so far as to repeatedly discredit the doctors doing the research and the results of the scientific research with findings to the contrary.

In developing The NOAH Project (2001-2002) I had decided we would focus on the best overall treatment for these kids. How we could respect their differences and work with them in the most loving way, how we could support their nutritional needs and how we could educate and help their parents and other parents (attending our speaking series) gather resources, that is doctors, therapists and nutritionists who were tuned into this information and could help clear the children of the neurotoxins and at the same time boost their immune systems. An informed parent can best help their children if they know what is going inside their child's body and find ways to offset the negative impact; in contrast the denial campaigns of the government and drug companies does not help progress or focus on the effective treatment for these kids. I did not attack the drug companies or FDA. It was always my hope they would step up and become accountable. Apparently it now becomes evident they handled the few extreme cases where the parents had the knowledge and wherewithal to make the claims on a timely basis and the impact of the vaccines were immediate and drastic rather than slow developing over time, as it was for most of our kids.

We are still faced with determining the best ways to help the kids (and now many are young adults) who have been effected. I have remained a believer in the The Son-Rise Program in terms of treatment (although limited to home-based), teaching the children to be interactive in the most spontaneous way. The public schools are now doing a far better job working with our kids. The explosive population of children with autism started in the 90's and took everybody by surprise, especially the public school system, they had to scramble to find certified special ed teachers, qualified teacher aids and ways to reach these kids.

Nutritional needs and vitamin intervention are still vital in boosting their compromised immune systems and helping clear the fog away, which quite often is created by gluten and casein foods (found in most processed food items). At The NOAH Project we issued a quarterly Nutrition newsletter to all families, teachers and therapists who were on our mailing lists from the speaking series (approximately 3,000 people). Here are a few pages from our newsletters prepared by our staff nutritionist (you will see we were careful and still soft pedaled the role of immunizations in creating this malady):

If you know families challenged with a child showing symptoms of delayed development, limited or no speech and/or overload of sensory systems, encourage them to get early intervention. The sooner they address the problems, the more likely the child will respond and possibly reverse the effects. Most of all, find the doctors/pediatricians that are focused on safe immunizations. There are alternatives, such as splitting up the viruses, and administering the vaccines over a longer period of time. Research! Encourage them to become empowered parents taking initiative, instead of blindly trusting the "experts". Most of all encourage them to love their children and support them in the most positive ways. If nothing else these children teach us to love unconditionally....a gift in itself!!

Life Lessons... from a meteorologist?

2011-04-28T22:50:00.013-05:00

This must be my influential people blog series. Last blog I told you about Albert Schweitzer and Victor Frankl and the tremendous impact they have had on my life. As I contemplated what I could possibly blog about next I was drawing a blank. So I sat, without thinking, in front of the TV watching all the weather and geological news. Tornadoes, draught and high winds, tsunami damage, earthquakes, severe thunderstorms, flooding! I have never cared much about watching television but weather fascinates me. The whole time I'm watching television and looking out my window to see if I can locate the newest developing wall cloud or funnel cloud or smell the smoke from the wildfires or see my car get pelted by hail or washed away in a flood, I'm thinking "Oh, if Dad were only here, we are having epic proportions of severe weather, he would be right in the middle of all this!"

Growing up in our home with Dad as a meteorologist had a significant influence in my life. My dad wasn't one of the TV guys. He worked for the National Weather Service, also known as NOAA (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration). For many years we lived in Maryland where he was a forecaster at the Suitland, Maryland office which was NOAA headquarters for the Northern Hemisphere. In his later years he was Meteorologist-In-Charge ("MIC") at the Albuquerque office which oversaw all of New Mexico and parts of Colorado and Arizona.

There are many characteristics of a man who lives in a world of probabilities. For instance it was close to impossible as a child to ever get a straight "YES" or "NO" from him. If I was in a hurry, it would make me crazy! But, certainly, it was to my benefit to get a "maybe" or a "possibly" on things that my mother might have nixed straight out. Although, I also remember him explaining to me when a forecast comes out at 50% it is like saying nothing, so one DOES need to take a stand in one direction or the other and not sit on the fence, but it must be well thought out. Likewise he taught me to question what people call "facts" because quite often those are really opinions and the truth lies somewhere in between the two extremes.

Many years later, when my first child developed autism and I was told by the public school system he would never develop beyond what he was at the age of four and I would eventually need to institutionalize him, I questioned the experts. I decided there must be other possibilities, because so long as I was alive (and after, if possible), I would make certain he was never institutionalized. Further, I spent so much time with him and could clearly see he was a lot smarter than the school was giving him credit for. What a gift my dad had given me, believing in all the possibilities! Nate, now almost 20 yrs old, is amazing! He far exceeded their expectations, what he understands, what he has learned to do and how he communicates in so many ways. He is a complete joy to be around...my gentle giant.

My meteorologist dad taught me even more! About the age of eight, I remember being at the grocery store with my mom. We were checking out, minding our own business, when the grocery clerk started talking about how stupid the weathermen were, they never get anything right, she didn't know why we even had them as she could do a better job herself just looking out the window. My eyes grew large as I watched my mom closely, she just smiled and when given the chance changed the subject. When we got out to the car and we were driving away, I asked what that was all about, how come she didn't tell the clerk that was my Daddy she was talking about and tell her she was wrong! My mom was smart, she said that is a good question for your father, ask him when he gets home.

With tears in my eyes I went running to my dad when he walked in the door that night and told him all about our trip to the grocery. He smiled and said there is no need to be upset. He explained many people do that when they don't understand something. He told me there was nothing more dynamic on this earth than the weather, meaning nothing changes faster. He then said, "When people criticize the weathermen they are not talking about me. They are speaking from a place of ignorance. They don't understand the science or the math of it. And that's okay. I never take these things personal and neither should you."

When we developed The NOAH Project there were many who told me it would never work. But, it worked beautifully, the children responded in ways nobody could have predicted. Children who hadn't talked the first years of their life, said there first words and more. Children telling their mom and dad's they loved them, something the parents had given up on years before. Children, who were previously enveloped in their own world, began playing interactive games. Daily we were able to celebrate the progress of these special kids. Had I listened to all the nay sayers that year of successes would have never happened.

When this case came against me, many people disappeared out of my life and some people spoke poorly behind my back. And, when I lost the trial, even more shrank away. And, when I came home after three years in prison, there were even fewer. I just remembered what my father said, don't get angry or hurt, just keep going. There are many who don't understand how the justice system works. Even with the most recent exonerations across the country, there are many who don't believe an innocent person can get convicted. And, they may never change their belief, even in light of all the evidence to the contrary. That, I have accepted and yes, I do understand, it is not about me and not about truth, it just is what it is. So, its up to me to move on, knowing that I am okay and doing what I need to do to clear my name. A GIANT life lesson.

The final story I want to share with you relates to our annual family vacations. For all the years we lived in Maryland, my parents would stuff our family in the car and travel out west, sometimes for two weeks and sometimes for a month. We would see relatives all along the way to Dallas, then head to Albuquerque and finally Phoenix. I always knew when we would hit New Mexico because my dad would start veering off the road. My mom would scream and we all jumped to attention. My father would pull over to the side of the road and point to a massive cloud formation. He'd say, "You see those thunderheads, see how the top of them forms a perfect anvil shape? You can't see this until we get out here to the wide open spaces, and that anvil shape signifies the most powerful thunderstorm that exists." He went on to tell us how important it was to respect such power and how it reminded him of the power of God. The beauty, the perfection, the absolute strength! He taught us in those weather lessons to honor and respect our Almighty God. He gave us visuals to anchor our faith. How grand is that?

Thank you Dad for being in my life and teaching me such important lessons. May you rest in peace.

Reverence for Life...Take Action

2011-04-16T17:53:00.020-05:00

It's interesting how life works, isn't it? We are brought the very challenges we need at just the right time. I cannot say I would have asked for any of my particular challenges, at least not outright, but certainly they were presented. In each instance, it has always been clear to me that I was in charge of how I responded, for that is really all I have control of...my attitudes. As a result of that awareness I redefine challenges as opportunities.

I have been drawn to the works of Albert Schweitzer for as far back as I can remember. A German man of many talents: he built organs, became an acclaimed organist, a church pastor and a university professor with a doctorate in philosophy. At the age of 30, aware of the need for medical care in Africa, he decided to become a medical doctor and devote the rest of his life to serving these people. At the age of 37 he opened a hospital in Lambarene, Gabon - at the time a French province in Equatorial Africa. He continued there until his death, at the age of 90, traveling back and forth to Europe for fundraising and gathering of supplies over the years. During World War I, both Schweitzer and his wife were imprisoned in France until the war was over, both becoming very ill because of the conditions in the prison. In his life he wrote several books, my favorite is "Reverence For Life". Schweitzer was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize at the age of 78.

Reverence for Life is a philosophy and speaks to our responsibility for all that we do, and calls upon us to have awareness and respect for all living things. A simple message that gets overlooked so easily.

The other author who has had a significant influence in my life is Viktor Frankl with his book "Man's Search for Meaning". Frankl was a Holocaust survivor and speaks to our responsibility to choose our attitude in any given circumstance, thus his own survival in a concentration camp of World War II. He went on to become a professor of psychiatry and neurology plus an author of several books, helping many in the healing of their lives.

Both Schweitzer and Frankl lived challenging lives, helped others and believed strongly in always doing the next right thing. Both wrote on the importance of attitude and awareness. Both were imprisoned as innocent men. Both were men of action, absolutely committed to making life better for others. Both have been quoted saying that words are meaningless without action. How can I not take action in my own life when I championed the lives and causes of these two men? My belief in Jesus and all His promises is the foundation setting underneath all of this...and probably the reason for my draw to the works of these two men in the first place.

Is it any wonder that I had a child whose personality and life were imprisoned with autism, giving me the opportunity of my life to connect and make certain he knew of my love for him. But I never really wanted to stop there, I wanted to share what I knew with other families. I still plan to continue in several different ways, by setting up a business that promotes a product for the nutritional needs of these kids whose immune systems are compromised, by writing books (for which I have partial drafts of two books) and by getting involved in working with these kids again. Although this time I will include the young adults as my sweet Nate is now almost 20 years old.

Then of all things, I also had to endure life in prison, while falsely accused and wrongly convicted. But didn't the writings of Schweitzer and Frankl influence my response, allowing me to come home further enriched. I believe they must have. And now that I am out of prison I feel just as strongly a need to help victims of the justice system as my need to help those afflicted with autism (both child and family). But to just speak it, to just write in a blog about it, is not enough. I have decided I must take action.

Through my experience of the justice system, I learned what is going on "inside", both inside the court room and inside the county jail and state prison. I learned there are so many people imprisoned in Texas who could more effectively be helped by rehabilitation. Like a dry alcoholic, they walk out of prison with all the same hungers....the addiction has not been confronted and healed, it may have been touched on at a superficial level. Some people are lucky enough to just quit, once clean for a time, but most are still driven by that addiction. They must do the healing of the underlying causes for their addictions, or they will be right back at it, medicating their pain. When I say that recidivism is not being addressed, this is what I am talking about. By not healing these people (those that are willing - which in my experience are numerous) then we are just providing a revolving door within the criminal justice system.

Further, EDUCATION!! It must be increased. Many of those imprisoned are without proper education. We are not preparing people to reenter society with skills that will keep them from falling back into trouble. People leaving prison have got to be employable. Many are not, thus moving back into illegal activities to provide a living or means of survival. Are we for our people in this country or not? It is so difficult to get my arms around the fact that we are one of the most advanced countries on this earth, yet so many people are falling through the cracks.

On the employable issue there is yet another piece. Twenty one percent of Americans have a "criminal background" given our runaway justice system. Their must be a shift in thinking by recruiters and employers or there will be no hiring of those with criminal backgrounds, thus increasing our government subsidy programs (food stamps, Medicaid, MHMR payments, TANF, etc). What many people do not realize is this group can be the hardest workers, with some of the best work ethics, as they are motivated to prove they are worthy. Positive reinforcement is giant to these people. That is what most would seek and respond to in prison and that is what will work once released to really bring them to a new lifestyle as they become productive citizens.

Then of course there are the falsely accused and wrongly convicted group. More people than I ever imagined. Even one person in this category is too many. In fighting my own case, I hope to provide a way for others to follow. The appeal system is very cumbersome and unfriendly and many just give up or never begin the process feeling defeated from the start, but does it have to be that way? I will continue to write about how the false accusations and wrongful conviction came about in my own case thus increasing awareness. Once exonerated I will publish a book with far more details than I have shared in this blog. Even then, that is not enough, there is a need to get involved with those who are fighting this fight, helping in any way that I can. Checks and balances must be brought to our justice system. Without that, it will continue. As I've said before, those that are a party to false arrests and convictions have to be made accountable. Otherwise, there will be more families disrupted by this insanity. There must be a movement for reform in our justice system to prevent this miscarriage of justice in the future.

When I think in terms of Reverence for Life, there can really be no other way. It is our responsibility as human beings to stand up for the causes that relate to respect and betterment of fellow humans and for our living earth....be that in the treatment of autism or the healing of those incarcerated or the many other causes that effect each of our lives. One has to ask, what touches my heart? How can I help? How can we improve the quality of our lives and others' right now? When we leave this world, don't we want to leave it a better place for our kids and all those that follow? I know I do!

The Momentum of NOAH

2011-03-26T17:56:00.007-05:00

I promise to make this short. I have been lamenting on The NOAH Project and the momentum it gained in our community. Autism and its treatment is still getting a fair amount of media because autism is still a mystery and has become quite prevalent among our children. So much so that I believe every person in this country knows at least one family dealing with this phenomenon.

The NOAH Project speaking series addressed so many of the challenges faced by the families of children with autism. Following are some of the speaking topics and brief descriptions that were a part of our Speaking Series which was held in the Plano Centre. We had as many as almost 500 people show up from around the metroplex. Those attending were teachers, therapists, parents and caregivers of children with autism and other special needs. The passion I felt to help these children and their families just seemed infinite. After so much suppression by the legal system in this fabricated case against me, I am beginning to finally feel regenerated, thanks to a recent visit with my dear friend, Dorothy, who helped me start this school years ago. Rather we have another school or not I can sure write about it and finish the book I started.

Next are some pictures of a few of the amazing people who attended and community leaders that helped:

Many of the kids represented by the adults attending in the above pictures are young adults now. Perhaps its time to focus my energies on providing a meaningful program for the adults. This first large generation of affected kids (from the 90's) are giving us a new challenge...never have we had so many special needs adults at a time while mental health funds across the nation are being cut. The times call for us to be especially creative, so our grown up kids can continue to learn and be a part of society in the best way.

In God's Time

2011-03-18T16:25:00.014-05:00

I knew the name of this blog before I ever wrote it or even organized my thoughts on the subject. Usually its the other way around for me, I write, then search for the name. This particular subject I have battled with all my life...In God's Time....but I want it NOW!!! And I want it my way!!! Sound familiar?

While in prison, just prior to being accepted into the Faith Dorm I was accepted to participate in a Retreat Weekend, held by a prison ministry called "KAIROS". The way we were considered for this weekend is to write a request into the prison chaplain explaining why we want to attend the Kairos weekend. I wrote three times, it seemed important enough to me to become a squeaky wheel. And, sure enough, I received far more than I ever imagined possible.

A little definition is in order here. "Kairos" is a Greek word meaning undetermined time when something special happens. In contrast "Chronos" is the Greek word for chronological or sequential time. To take this a step further, in Christian theology kairos refers to "the appointed time in the purpose of God", the time when God acts. For example Mark 1:15 says "the time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand....." this is referring to kairos time. This retreat weekend was indeed, a time for God's purposes, His presence was enormous and awesome, the transformations among us were amazing and inspiring.

To start with, it was held in the gymnasium which had been partitioned off into sections. A section for group meetings, a section for worship and a section for eating. On a Thursday evening we were ushered into the gym and every two of us were assigned a volunteer. We were offered a buffet dinner...fresh fruits, fresh vegetables, olives and finger sandwiches. That may not sound like a big deal to you, BUT it was GIANT to us. I had not had fresh veggies or fruit since incarcerated ...at that time it had been two and a half years and I craved these delicacies. For others it had been even longer. After filling our bodies with healthy food, they began to fill our hearts and minds with healthy thoughts and feelings through songs, sharing and presentations. These women, the volunteers, had unconditional love down to a tee, they embraced each one of us just as we were. Not one of us ever felt judged, we were brought into this circle of Christian women with open arms. I don't think I have ever experienced so much love at once. The women came from several different denominations...there were Baptist, Methodist, Episcopalians, Catholics and Lutheran to name a few. They came from churches all around, some from as far as 50+ miles away. Some of the volunteers were ministers at their churches.

At night we had to return to our cells to sleep. We were then brought back Friday, Saturday and Sunday. In all we were together about 36 hours. They provided our meals, which were home cooked by volunteers outside the prison. Another large volunteer group that we never saw were the prayer warriors. These were volunteers specifically assigned to each one of us and were to pray for that person all weekend. They wrote us personal notes and sent them in, they took prayer requests from us and included that in their prayers.

The presentations to us were shared among the volunteers. After a presentation we then did group projects based on our understanding and presented those projects to the entire group. So the presentations to us were turned into an experiential learning, a much better way for us to retain and connect to our lessons. There were approximately 50 inmates and the volunteer group inside with us was approximately 35-40 women. As we were walking in each morning the volunteers surrounded us and sang to us. It was so beautiful. I still get tears when I think of how joyful that weekend was....it was like an oasis in the middle of a desert and we were just thirsting for what they gave us. The community that grew among us became an enormous force of nature...we carried it with us for the remainder of my time there...and I'm certain it continued long after I left.

On Saturday morning we were each handed a small piece of rice paper and told to write names of people we needed to ask forgiveness from on one side and those we needed to forgive on the other side...we kept it with us throughout the day and wrote names as they came to us. Then later that evening we had a worship service on forgiveness and prayed on our lists. At the end of that service the minister was at a table with a large bowl of water and a wooden spoon, we each went up and put our list in the water, one at a time, and as she stirred we watched it dissolve. Following that exercise there were ministers in each corner of the room so we lined up (if we wanted) and were prayed over while that minister washed our hands. The power of that entire experience and the feeling of freedom was beyond words. It made the actual prison walls surrounding us seem like nothing, as we realized how withholding of forgiveness (in either direction) really creates a prison within, one for which there is no parole unless we make the choice to let go and speak those words and clean our thoughts. I started out that morning saying I was not a grudge holder so I wouldn't have anybody on my list...then as the day went on...my list grew and grew as I became more and more honest with myself.

Also offered during the weekend were individual counseling sessions with ministers of our choice, but only if we wanted. I had been grappling with the forgiveness issue regarding my false accusers. I had prayed over this several times, but seemed to have circular thinking. I met with one of the ministers I felt most comfortable with, asking if it made sense for me to continue with my appeal/habeas if I have truly forgiven them? Giant question for me. It was her belief that I was dealing with two separate issues, making them one. It was okay for me to pursue clearing my name (sticking to the facts of the case) and at the same time forgive these men. The two actions could live hand in hand inside of me. I began to understand, and was provided a sense of relief. I still work on this and when I feel the anger surface again (as it does), I lift it up, let it go and move on. Sometimes my husband gets angry at me for not being more angry, but I know that anger, if I were to hold on to it, would just kill me (if not physically, then spiritually for sure).

Everything in God's time...I have to remember that! My parole was granted that very Friday while I was at the Kairos Retreat, although I wouldn't find out about it for another three weeks. When I came home several months later I found that sweet Nate, my special needs son, had regressed significantly. I had heard about this but never imagined how bad things were for him. My husband's health had deteriorated because of diabetes, he never let on in his letters but his last couple visits were somewhat revealing. My other son, Brandon, had survived the best, but basically had been very much on his own soon after I left, doing it the best he could (like being in the family group but not connected). I have to remind myself...the healing is all in God's time too....for all of us. The habeas is still not filed, I pray on that also. That habeas has to be the best it can be, because it is a one-shot deal. God's time!! His perfect time. It all boils down to trust and faith.

The POWER of Prayer!

2011-03-05T23:00:00.010-06:00

As I mentioned in a prior post, the Hobby Unit, located in Marlin, Texas was an eye opening and scary experience for me during my short five week stay. Hobby holds the unique distinction of being the worst women's prison in the United States. On the drive over in the van, I could not figure out how I had come to be assigned to Hobby, a maximum security Unit. It held the lifers and many of the most on-going violent criminals in the system. I had never received a case for any violation since incarcerated, had a reputation among the officers for working hard and being respectful. In fact most prisoners and officers who came to know me could not figure out why I was there...they always said I did not belong. Most women I met had been drug users at one time or another and many of them said within minutes of meeting me "You've never done drugs, have you?" The answer for me is "No, Never".

In orientation the second day at Hobby, conducted by the Head of Security, we were informed the Unit was as bad as all the stories we had ever heard and perhaps worse. When first arriving at Hobby we are housed in either Building 1 or Building 2, both are considered transitional buildings. Building 1 is primarily for those in solitary confinement but takes overflow from those coming into the Unit. Building 2 is for those coming in and those with behavior cases. I was placed in Building 2. There exist a lot of violence in those two buildings. For example, the first week I was there, one woman, sitting on a bench watching TV, was approached from behind, and with razors her face was sliced up. The Slicer put individual razors between her fingers and just started slashing. There was no particular argument between the two, she was just present when the Slicer decided to do something to get attention. The person doing the slicing was mad because her girlfriend was put in solitary confinement and she wanted to be in Building 1 with her.

I worked as an all night janitor, thankfully. Those on the "hoe squad" went out in rain and worked in the fields with mud up to their knees some days. The men officers overseeing them, on horses, call out obscenities to them all day and didn't allow them to use the bathroom, therefore they were having to relieve themselves in their clothes and if it was their period, they were left to bleed all over themselves. My cell mate came home one day after one of these traumatic experiences, crying her eyes out. Many of us gathered around her and helped the best we could with her mud and blood soaked clothes and shoes.

We lived in two-people cells and unlike other Units where the doors were left unlocked, ours' were locked and would only open for a few seconds at scheduled times. We had to decide whether we wanted to be in the violence ridden day room or locked inside our cells. Inside my cell was my choice so long as I had a cell mate that I felt safe with, which is what I had for the first two weeks. At the end of two weeks I was transferred to Building 4, which in theory was considered a much better place to be.

As I walked toward the cell door lugging my mattress, sheets, blanket and personal items I looked up at the woman standing outside the door. When our eyes met she rolled her eyes, muttered some obscenities and went inside the cell. I followed her in and knew I was in trouble. This women did not like me. She was 33 years old, had been in the TDCJ system for over 13 years. She had a 40 year sentence for murdering a man while she was burglarizing his home at the age of 19. She would be up for consideration of parole at 20 years, but did not expect to make parole. She was completely institutionalized and angry. She had a reputation for beating up her cell mates and others, and was in this building because she had not done it in a while.

She quickly informed me everything in the cell was hers. All electric outlets, all hooks, shelves and tabletop. She would allow me the bottom bunk and one storage unit below the bunk. She went crazy when she found any of my hair on the floor (I am talking one strand of hair). She hated my hair, my smell (I was clean!), my shoes, really everything about me. She threatened to kill me quite often which I didn't take lightly. I found myself living in absolute fear. She made it clear that I better never say anything to an officer about her because she or one of her friends (she said she had them everywhere) would get me. I wrote home A LOT but of course nobody from the outside could really help me either.

I FINALLY GOT IT! I started praying constantly....this must be what God was talking about...we had to get to the very end, where we had no place to turn, but to Him, to really see Him and what He could do for us. I prayed for safety, I prayed thanking Him for my life and telling Him I wanted to live to go home to my family, I asked Him to move me to another place, I prayed that He might help my cell mate in some way that would make life easier and kinder for her. And I sat on my bunk bed with my Bible opened and my eyes trained on His Word every moment we were locked in that cell together. I felt a calm come over me. She did notice my Bible and my reading of it and tended to back off more and more. One day she even brought some Christian pamphlets to me, saying she thought I would like them...I thanked her and avidly read them.

Her aggression became more focused outside the cell, in the day room, where she had screaming fights and physical fights, but was never reprimanded by the officers. One day she asked me about my life before prison, what I did for a living. She thought on that a couple days, then asked if I would write a letter for her regarding a property settlement issue (related to an oil & gas deal) she had with her mother's estate. I did it, she liked it and signed it and sent it off right away. Then she asked me to explain my case and the habeas process to her and I did. She asked me if that might apply to her. I didn't really know but was willing to help her write a couple letters requesting the advice she needed and possible representation. We did those letters together. That very night an officer came to our cell door following the 10:00 count and told me to pack up I was being transferred.

I was so excited, my prayers were answered! I was being shipped to the Lockhart Unit, an air conditioned facility, minimum security, visits in person (rather than through a window, on a phone). As I was leaving I wished my cell mate the best and she wished me the same. I have often thought about her and prayed for her, although I will probably never see her again.

God is so faithful. He patiently waits for us. He answers our prayers. All glory is due Him. I am just so grateful for His presence in my life.

A Light in the Darkness!

2011-02-24T10:05:00.011-06:00

Whew...I need a break! All these posts on man's justice system is giving me the willies. I need to speak on something more positive and I have just the story to tell you. I found a gem, amongst all the negativity in the prison and jail systems. A bright light so strong, in the most unlikely of places.

Within the Texas women's prison system are several units that are scattered throughout the state. Most are Texas Department of Criminal Justice ("TDCJ") units, owned and operated by the state. Others are contract units owned and operated by third parties. My first stop when I left the Dallas County Jail was at Woodman in Gatesville, which is a State diagnostics unit for all those entering the system. While there we were basically warehoused while they collected medical data, IQ testing, educational level testing and gathering of family/social information on us. I resided at Woodman for approximately five months where I first worked as a night janitor, working from 6 pm until 4 am, scrubbing showers, toilets, floors, walls, etc. After about six weeks they moved me to the kitchen where I had various functions, eventually working my way up to the esteemed "cook" position. My hours in the kitchen were from 1 am to 10 am.

Then one night (always after 10 pm) they said you will be transferred the next morning. So I spent that night packing my very few belongings and going through the inventory process with an officer. It takes most the night, then the usual breakfast is about 4:00 and a couple hours later we were handcuffed, thrown in a van and driven to the Hobby Unit in Marlin, Texas. I was only there 5 weeks. The Hobby Unit has the unique distinction of being the worst women's prison in the United States. I will tell you about my 5 weeks there in a post all its own. For now I want to focus on my most positive experience during those three years of incarceration. Following the Hobby unit I was transferred to a contract prison in Lockhart, Texas which was owned and operated by a company called GEO Group, Inc. (traded on NYSE, a profitable business). I just checked the stock, it is selling for $24.67 per share this morning and has the highest profit/earnings ratio in the industry. (Sorry, can't stop myself! Once an accountant, always an accountant!) They provide minimum security prison units to states. I am pretty sure I know what corners they cut to get those profits. I won't list those for you now...as I promised ...this is a positive post!

The Lockhart unit is where I eventually found my way to the Faith Dorm. We had to request this program, explain our reason for wanting it and then go through an interview process. People who had a history of behavior problems (i.e. any rule violations) are not considered. By the way, I called us "people", but we were not known as people, we were referred to as "Offenders" and that is how we were to announce our presence at locked doors, etc. Anyway, I will continue to use the word "people" as that is what I believe we were (and are). The Faith Dorm housed 50 women, two women per cell with a large day room. You can see the picture of the women in the Faith Dorm. I'm in there but I'm not telling you where as I did not have any makeup on. You can see the doors behind the women, those were our cells and contained two metal beds (about 3' by 6'), a wall cabinet, a small table top and stool, a toilet and a sink. Everything was attached to the walls and floor, they must have been afraid we would steal their stuff.

In the middle of this two story "dorm" was a day room. It had all the tables and chairs for our meals and in the case of the Faith Dorm that is where we sat for our program, taking notes at a rapid rate as the information we were receiving was the greatest message on earth.

The name of the organization providing the program is "God of Hope Ministries" and is based out of Austin. The women lecturing us represented many denominations... Baptists, Episcopalians, Methodists to name a few. The program was very structured. We received many books, including an amazing annotated study Bible. Our devotional was "Jesus Calling" by Sarah Young and there were more books to augment the study of the books in the Bible and bringing that message to our daily lives. We studied both old testament and new testament and correlations between the two were made. We had daily homework. Our day started with breakfast about 4:30 am, then we do any chores. Next was individual time used for daily devotionals. Many people had several devotional books so they spent time in each. We were told to study over the daily devotions and pray accordingly. You could hear a pin drop during this time, the respect for each other and God was awesome. We were all expected to keep daily journals of what came from daily devotionals and any other personal thoughts throughout the day, all of which was reviewed. We were held accountable for all assignments and our journal.

The structured program/speaker would typically start about 8:30 or 9:00 and would run to lunch time, with one hour for lunch, then resume at 1:00 and usually go to about 4:30. At which time we had to prepare for dinner, do chores and start our assignments. After dinner we had our assignments to work on and could otherwise attend prison-wide church services and Bible studies. Many of us would study further into the night and then start again about breakfast time. It was rigorous, I learned more about the Bible and its teachings than I had throughout all my years being raised in a church and attending church as an adult. Remember in a prior blog I talked about pretending I was in a nunnery to get through some of the toughest days while at Dallas County Jail. Well, you know what they say, your imagination becomes your reality. It truly did, with this Faith Dorm. At our meals we would have intellectual and heart-filled conversations about all we learned for the day and our various perspectives. It seemed Jesus filled our every moment. There was just no time for gossip or other trouble making activities.

And when we all sang it was angelic...it always brought tears to my eyes. The dorm was two stories and the acoustics were just God inspired. I felt like I was in a different world, totally separate from the prison. Our hearts were just lifted up to God. The speakers and program volunteers were respectful toward us and we were treated like intelligent human beings. We were not treated like dirt as many of the officers were inclined to do. When people are treated with respect, they tend to respond in the best way. It created a learning environment equal to any university I ever attended. And we were each very supportive of one another in our progress and learnings. There was an occasional nasty remark among us, but it was confronted and resolved immediately. If there was something that seemed irreconcilable, then it was brought to the program volunteers, nothing was left to fester, as part of the skills we were learning as we became stronger and stronger Christians.

I did not really see any rehabilitation happening among the women prisons. But, with its intensity, this program was the key to changing its participants lives and beyond much of what is even offered in the free world . And, how often do we have time for such a commitment in our busy lives in the free world, between work, family and friends. While in this program, I came to believe this must have been how God made good the most difficult situation in my life, just like one of my favorite verses says:

Romans 8:28 And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.

If you are interested in what I've I told you here, you can look further at their website www.thegodofhope.org They are "A Bridge of Hope from Prison to New Life". These are some of the best people I have ever met in my life. I do miss them, although I have no desire to go back to prison. I have thought long and hard about becoming involved in prison ministry for the remainder of my life as a result of this program.

The Newsweek Essay Contest

2011-02-05T18:04:00.007-06:00

My dear cousin, Nancy, figured out a way to keep me busy and challenged while I was incarcerated. Nancy writes the blog, "Minding My Own Business" (http://shilohpup-nwc.blogspot.com/) a very fun blog. She knew I liked to write also so she found me the Newsweek essay contest called "My Turn Editor". At once I set out making entries to the contest. I rarely was able to watch anything of significance on the TV but I was lucky enough to see O'bama's first Address to the Nation and I had some thoughts I wanted to share...they seemed important at the time. Following is my cover letter and essay entry, it reveals some more of that inside information, although at a very different level.

February 16, 2009

My Turn Editor
Newsweek
251 West 57th Street
New York, NY 10019-1894

Dear Sir or Madam:

I previously wrote on February 4, 2009 explaining my situation. I want to make entries to your contest but am unable to obtain use of a computer to email my entries, as I am incarcerated with my case currently under appeal.

I have enclosed my second entry to your contest regarding O'bama's recent Address to the Nation. Hopefully you will consider it for your contest as I believe I have a unique perspective which may be of interest to your readers.

Thank you in advance for your consideration of my entry.

Sincerely yours,

Audrey A. White

LESSONS FROM THE PAST

O'bama's Address to the Nation was interesting and felt like a rerun movie to me. He talked about the lack of confidence in banks and the FDIC's ability. This reminds me of the Savings & Loan institutions/banks and the FSLIC/FDIC situation of the late 1980's. I worked through all aspects of that as an accounting and finance consultant to this country's #1 real estate developer of the time, The Trammell Crow Company. There are many parallels to be drawn. Oddly enough the benefit of the bailout did not necessarily go to the average American citizens but filtered back to the moneyed people.

Here is how it worked. In the 1980's the real estate market (both commercial and multi-family housing) became grossly overbuilt, as a result of tax shelters and lenient lending practices. The 1986 Tax Reform Act was passed phasing out the tax shelter in passive investments and overnight the equity markets dried up. The real estate market, being overbuilt left extremely high vacancy rates throughout the country. Real estate developments could no longer pay their debt service. In a loss situation these real estate interests were unable to turn to the equity partners for funding since they could no longer write off the losses. Consequently there was massive defaults on loans as real estate entities could not pay the interest on these huge loan balances, much less the monthly amortization of principal.

Throughout the nation lending institutes were forced to foreclose or work-out a debt restructure on their real estate loans. With the high vacancies the reduced value of the collateral for those loans became evident, the values had taken a nose dive. The lending institutes no longer held appropriate collateral and for all the foreclosures they were left holding over-valued real estate, negatively impacting their liquidity ratios. FSLIC and FDIC (to a lesser extent) were forced to close down high volumes of financial institutions, paying back depositors their insured funds, depleting FSLIC and FDIC sources and now leaving these government agencies with enormous inventory of deflated real estate properties.

While most small and medium sized developers went bankrupt, the belief among the few large developers, was the market was simply correcting itself for inflated values created by the FUNNY MONEY, and was long over due. The men I worked for did not see this economic upheaval as a bad thing but an opportunity.

The effect of this "correction" was to clear out the little men and remove the middle men and allowed the big guys to get bigger, as they reorganized and took advantage of the bailout money. They were seen as weathering the storm although they too had many foreclosures and bankruptcies among their thousands of individual real estate entities (several tiers of entities for each property). They had clearly participated in the use of the FUNNY MONEY, collecting their fees on the front end of each real estate deal and minimizing their exposure. They knew the markets were overbuilt but so long as the money was there, they were building. They were eventually given preferential treatment in the work-outs because the lending institutions and insuring government agencies could not continue to grow or maintain their real estate portfolios.

The major developers were now recognized as the experts in real estate (unlike the government bureaucrats), those having the know-how to reverse and correct bad construction, manage the lease up and sale of properties (albeit at rock bottom prices). They were given the work and received substantial fees from the government to get it done.

In addition, the major developers formed joint ventures with major investment sources, like Mutual Benefit and Paine Webber. They created what they called "Vulture Funds" and bought these properties at reduced prices from FSLIC and FDIC and continuing lending institutes, hence relieving the real estate-heavy balance sheets of lenders and government agencies and further enriching themselves with real estate that had no place to go but up.

The acquisition fees, development fees, rehab fees plus property and asset management fees grew exponentially for these wealthy few. The shift of wealth in this country only moved up the food chain with average Americans remaining very much the same. Yes, jobs were created, but at the bottom of the pay scale. The labor force was paid little because so many were unemployed and seeking to put food on the table. The usual equation was in place - too much supply, not enough demand: therefore labor rates low and consequently, profits to the few remained high. The major real estate developers continued to rake in the majority of the bailout money.

Today we have a similar situation in many ways. Therefore, the hard questions for O'bama's Stimulus Bill have to be asked:

Does bailout reward bad behavior? YES
Is it irresponsible to do nothing? YES
Does transparency and accountability need to be in place? ABSOLUTELY
Who needs to see this transparency and accountability? THE AMERICAN PEOPLE. The data should be made public. In looking at the transparency, look at arm's length transactions. As part of that information - the examination must include disclosure of who is benefiting - who is behind the corporate and partnership veils - who are the shareholders and who are the partners/employees receiving the bailouts and profits generated. Take a hard look at employees and consultants being paid within these entities. Notice who owns the businesses they do business with. Is it the same people?

Correction of the system is painful for many. If we do not learn from the past, then, in another 20 years we will be revisiting once again the underlying cause - shoddy economic policy. Having lenient lending practices in an attempt to boost the economy is always short lived and will always cost us a lot of energy and resources that could otherwise be used for a greater cause.

Perhaps if Bush was not so set on trying to convince the American people that our economy was strong and we had no problems and if we were not so set on needing to believe him, then we would not be in this situation again. Now the history lessons are here and all of us will need to heed this knowledge in our quest to become much more responsible citizens, as O'bama has called us to be.

It was not published as you may have guessed. In retospect, this might have been useful information. At any rate, the essay contest served its purpose...it gave me a purpose and some goals. All vitally important in maintaining sanity. They may have surrounded me with bars, walls and locks but they could not keep my thoughts inside their walls nor would I allow them to take away my beliefs.

First Impressions

2011-01-30T18:50:00.002-06:00

Now you know the jest of my case so I'll share something else with you. My first weeks following the trial, while incarcerated at Lew Sterrett (Dallas County Jail) I was in a state of shock somewhat...I suppose it could be called culture shock. Up to this time I had never visited or really known somebody in jail. And here I was living there. My first impressions reflect my fear and became one of my book excerpts as follows:

For anyone who believes hell is on earth, they only need to spend one week locked in a county jail to affirm their belief. The justice system is based on fear and power, no compassion whatsoever. No wonder it grows, no wonder rehabilitation is practically non-existent and the return rate so high. Repeat offenders abound and carry their felony records as if they were a badge of courage. The more felony raps or "paragraphs" of prior and current offenses listed on their indictment papers, then the higher their status. They trade blame on crimes as if they were dealing in the commodities market.

Fire is everywhere, in the tanks of general population, among the single cells and within the holding cells. Meanwhile the court rooms are sizzling - the fire held down in an attempt to emulate respect. The sizzling is nothing more than the sounds of manipulation coming from all directions: the courts, the prosecution, the defense attorneys and the alleged criminals. Its a wonder if ever a word of truth is uttered in the hissing environs. How can anybody recognize truth or for that matter justice with all these layers of deceit?

On the outside of the courtrooms, back in the big holding cells, there is a hellish cacophony. Throughout there are erupting volcanoes spewing out hatred and bitterness; the burning lava sliding over everyone in the cell and spilling out onto the guards. Interspersed are the individuals threatening God's wrath and proclaiming the end of the world is here. While underlying all is the uneasy rhythm of the street talk, a dialect which is barely discernible as a derivative of the English language.

If you are looking for a quiet space to center yourself before meeting with the Judge it will not happen. To stay in silence and search for that peaceful place inside yourself cannot last long. The inmates do not like silence, if you are not willing to share in the constant patter and discuss your case then it is presumed you are a baby killer and your life is in imminent danger. As a matter of protection you enter your "confidential" information into the data base designed and disseminated by the inmates so you can be placed in the appropriate slot among them.

Narcissism is rampant.

Entitlement unbridled.

Anything for negative attention.

As time went on I found a small number of women I felt comfortable with, things seemed to settle down somewhat, or I finally became acclimated and was able to go about my days with less fear. I learned that fear had a paralyzing quality to it and would not allow me to move out of danger if necessary. Mostly I read and read and read. I allowed this time to become an educational opportunity. I remembered in the busy-ness of my life before all this I quite often said I did not have enough time to read as much as I'd like, and wished I had more time. I needn't remind you of the old saying...Be careful what you wish for! Sometimes, while incarcerated I'd even pretend I was in a nunnery....silly I know... but finding that quiet, peaceful place inside became my survival.

HOPE

2010-12-05T15:40:00.003-06:00

I had been incarcerated about a year following my trial when one Sunday morning I woke up with HOPE on my mind and knew I had to write. We always had breakfast about 4a.m. Once everybody ate they all went back to sleep as was the routine on Sunday mornings. So I sat down by myself on that peaceful morning and wrote the following in about 5 minutes and smiled the rest of the day.

People seem amazed saying I never stop, I never give up, even after 5 long years of this struggle [4 years prior to the trial and 1 year incarcerated]. The truth is hope never gave up on me! I wasn't able to stop it even when I tried (and I did!):

I could stomp on it.
I could spit on it.
I could call it "false".
I could even fool myself, for a moment, into believing I could turn my back and walk away from it.

But, I finally reached the conclusion, so long as one chooses life, there is hope. Hope is part of the human spirit, the underlying belly of faith, a driving force in our existence:

Hope is persistent.
Hope is audacious.
Hope is fathomless.
Hope has no bounds.
Hope soars in the face of potential destruction.

When I set aside anger, sadness, resentment and have exhausted the victim script...there remains HOPE, as solid as the earth and as ethereal as God Himself.

To this day I refer back to this when I get to thinking this will never end. I also have to remind myself all things have beginnings and endings.

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A PRISONER

2010-11-28T13:08:00.005-06:00

I was in Dallas County Jail (Lew Sterrett) for 19 months following my trial, during the initial stages of my appeal. Once I settled in I started writing book excepts. Following is one:

The slamming of the heavy steel doors convulse with such finality. I am surrounded by ugly, drab grays and beiges that speak no words of comfort. I have no choice but to touch the ice cold barren steel of the tables, seats, sinks, showers, toilets, "beds", walls and bars. All of them closing in on me as my heart shutters and my skin crawls and itches. There is the constant clanging of the keys against one another and against the doors, sounding like fingernails on a blackboard. I hear chains being dragged, scraping across the cement floors but can't glimpse the living corpse they are attached to...only pictures in my starving mind. I smell stark disinfectants trying to cover the foul odors of those detoxing as they expel the rancid chemicals they have ingested while on the streets of the free world.

There always seems to be at least one woman wailing; for their soul hurts unbearably. I join them sometimes, but only in my mind, so as not to show vulnerability and weakness. I see the constant artificial light pressing in on my eyes. Even when I try to sleep its vibrating fluorescence pierces my closed eyelids. I dream of an invisible protective film forming, leaving a heavy thickness, covering the windows of my soul.

We argue among each other for toilet paper - the measure of gold in here. The guards tell us there is a shortage and sometimes leave us with none. They tell us this is due to budget cuts, as they shrug their shoulders and walk away with a smirk on their faces.

Over the intercom system I hear the blaring of names and numbers for women going home or on to the next place in the system. I keep waiting to hear my own name, even imagine it sometimes, but it never comes as I remain a prisoner.

I found ways to survive. In the beginning I was mad at God for allowing this. I'd pray to Him about my anger and tell Him I was no good as a vessel to Him. I turned to reading books, reading about a book a day. I'll have to admit it took me two days to read Rhett Butler 's People by McCaig. In almost three years I read over 1,000 books. I wrote in the quiet times while everybody else was sleeping and I would play an occasional game of Spades or Canasta while at Dallas County. Cards were not allowed at the penitentiary...my next stop.

I came to realize I was getting an opportunity to see if I really believed what I had been teaching my son with autism. Before the trial I had worked many hours, weeks, months and years to convince my son, Nate, that our world was a good place and gave him compelling reasons to join us in our world. I showed him that happiness was a choice and could be attained anywhere under any circumstance. Now the universe was testing me. I would survive, with my sanity, choosing happiness and maintaining a positive attitude....but it took me some time to get there. I would not play victim to the men who falsely accused me.

A NEW DAY

2010-11-21T12:10:00.007-06:00

Because of unusual circumstances I have been away from my loved ones for the past three years...but we are together again. I am grateful beyond words. I have come to treasure each moment, even the tough ones. I have seen things I never wanted to but believe I am a better person for all the experiences I have been afforded. In wanting to understand the passage in Romans 8:28 "And we know God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose"...I am believing that even the past three years were not a waste but give rise to a powerful opportunity both in sharing my experiences and in facilitating change in a system that has exceeded it's boundaries. How I go about all that is yet to be seen. I pray for guidance daily. It can be no other way.

For now I am wishing each of you the best Thanksgiving holiday and family time together. Wrap your arms around each moment, make the most of it, let everybody know you love them and how that looks. For one thing I am certain, there is nothing more important than love.

Loving each of you.....