Grace Girls – 7

mature teens can handle content

WARNING: SURVIVORS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AND SEXUAL ASSAULT MAY FIND CONTENT TRIGGERING. READER’S DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

1 John 4:15-21

“…16We have known and believed that God loved us. God is love. Those who live in God’s love live in God and God lives in them…”

Makayla Nicole Isley, 19

Speechless, I hold Lauren in my arms. I act as her lifeline, the lifeline I desperately wish I had when I was 10 and a half. 

All I had then was a pillow, and I choked the life out of the stuffing. I didn’t understand what my father did it. I tried to convince myself it was his way of showing me how much he loved me, but I knew in my gut that wasn’t true. Just like I knew, when he blew a plume of marijuana smoke into my nostrils for the first time, that that wasn’t love either. That was him getting a sick, demented sense of satisfaction as he watched a 4 year old get baked.   

I nearly vomit thinking back on that. I liked the high from the beginning. Since then, every time he and his boys gathered for a good time I would go and beg to sit on his lap. He would push me away and yell at me. That must have been the sane part of him trying to protect me from himself. 

Then Poncho would say, “Bake her fool, that’s what she really wants. Then she’ll leave you alone.”

I would stare at the crooked, rolled joint hanging in his lips. I would watch them curl around the paper tube. Holding my breath, I waited with anticipation. He pinched the middle of the joint with his fingers, and then with his cheeks puffed like my gerbil Bucky, he leaned forward. As his lips puckered like kissing lips, a steam roller of smoke chugged towards me like a train. I stood on my toes and drove my face into the cloud of skunk smoke. I took all I could in; I didn’t fight it.

For whatever reason, after that, he would lift me onto his lap. I can’t really explain the feeling. I just didn’t care, and I felt relaxed. Giggliness floated in my tummy. I laughed at everything until I fell asleep, which didn’t take long.

Lauren’s moment of heartbreak, takes me back to my pregnancy. I didn’t even take a test. I just knew. My half-child, half-sibling would nearly be six today. Would I even still be here? The idea of giving birth to my father’s child makes me want to cut my own throat! God probably knew that… I wonder if that baby made it to heaven. In heaven, genealogy probably doesn’t mean anything.  

  Lying down will make Lauren feel better. Well, it worked for me. I lead her over to the bed, and she doesn’t fight me. Together we sit down on the edge. I tell her to lie back, but she shakes her head, which is buried in my shoulder. I tell her to trust me,  that lying down under the warm embrace of her covers will soothe her.

Her cries begin to settle as she crawls to her head board feebly. I help her pull back the covers and tuck her in tightly after she gets underneath her sheet and comforter. I figure I might as well lie next to her. She shouldn’t be alone right now. Scripture pops into my mind. I wish I knew these verses at 10 and a half. It would have helped me. I can tell the Spirit of the Lord is encouraging me to share the scripture in my mind with Lauren. But all these verses don’t come from the same place in Scripture? I think. Apparently, that doesn’t matter. The Spirit continues to encourage me to share.

“We know all things work together for the good of those who love God−those whom he has called according to his plan… The reason I can find hope is that I keep this one thing in mind: the LORD’s mercy… His compassion is never limited. It is new every morning. His faithfulness is great… The Lord is good… to anyone who seeks help from him… His love endures forever.”

Lauren begins laughing. I join her, because I know where it comes from. The laughter is a side effect of relief. Lauren’s fortunate hers came quickly. My relief came six years afterwards, the day Christ found me and I saw Him.

“Wow…” Lauren says as she tries to end her laughing fit, but her laughter keeps raging on. Every break she gets, she blurts something. First she blurts, “Romans,” laughing followed by, “nice!” Second she says, “Lamentations…” with a huge laugh followed by, “whoa!” Third she gently whispers, “Psalms…” and her laughter fades into a faint giggle.

She begins to sing the song His Love Endures Forever. The songwriter was clearly inspired by Psalm 136. Give thanks to the Lord, His Love Endures Forever. Psalm 136:1, I think. Lauren stops singing.

“I’m tired Makayla…” She says as her eyes flutter shut.

Tired is an understatement. She has to be exhausted. I know the weight her shoulders hold. Not telling anyone what happened built up that weight. She has to do more than explain the event. She has to explain how it made her feel, and why she feels the way she does. That’s what I had to do. That’s how she’ll be able to let go.

Now is probably not the best time. Any time will never be right. Once I ask her if she wants to talk about it, I know she’ll be defiant. Fear will take root in her heart. Fear will try to convince her talking about what happened won’t change anything. That talking about it won’t make her feel better, but fear is a liar. Fear is a prison, while truth is liberty!

I take a deep breath and slowly release it. I ask, “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Playfully, she shakes her head as she covers her cringing face with the blanket. Under the shelter of her thick, luscious comforter I hear a muffled, “No,” in Lauren’s voice. I wait. I’m not going anywhere, and she can’t hide under there forever. 

I can feel time beginning to stretch into eternity. I’m not a patient person. She has three seconds until I rip the covers from her face and force her to talk. One… Two…

The comforter slides down to reveal Lauren’s face. Her hazel eyes filled with hope compared to the joylessness they had earlier today. Wild strands of her sandy blonde hair drape over her forehead like vines, but they scarcely shield her hopeful eyes. She looks at me with all seriousness.

 “Gina convinced me to go to a party at her boyfriend’s house,” she says as she begins to tell me what happened.

I know how hard this is for her. She fumbles over every other sentence. Occasionally, she pauses. debating whether or not to go on, but she presses on and continues to speak.

She describes every detail down to the last letter. She remembers what the house looked like. What phase the moon was in. How Gina abandoned her for probably four to seven minutes of pleasure. What she thought as she got in the cab. What ran through her head as her attacker carried out his assault.  That’s when her tears came back in a roar of wailing. She explains the loneliness that embodied her as she stumbled to the nearest busy street after being dumped in a back alley by her abuser. The anger she had towards God.

“God is supposed to protect me! A car accident I could take… a few broken bones… but this?” A gush of crystal clear water pools around the lenses of her eyes. One at a time, she wipes her tears before they have a chance to fall. 

She explains that she wishes the cab driver would have wrecked the vehicle before he raped her. Once she used the word rape, she said it over and over again. Any chance she got to use the word, she did. I know why she’s doing that. It’s taken her so long to confess it; she wants to make sure she’ll never be afraid to confess her rape again.

At the hospital, during an after the rape kit, when they gave her the option to take the-morning-after-pill, the Spirit came upon her and told her not to take it. She knew the Word of God wouldn’t support her ingestion of the pill either.

A man visited her in the hospital. Matthew Adam LaHaye is his name. He has a full first,  middle, and last name! Finally, I get the scoop on this guy. She admits she’s been crushing on him since she met him. With those gorgeous eyes, who could blame her? I tell her she’s in love with him, but she plays it off as a joke. I try to tell her I’m serious, but she doesn’t believe me. Wasting no time, she describes Matthew to me. It’s creepy how closely he resembles Mr. Tyler, Lauren’s father.

Simultaneously we say, “A man of few words, but much Scripture!” We share a short, tender chuckle. Lauren says that Matthew constantly talks about the Word of God, and how the Spirit teaches all the truths about God so he can grow to know God the Father. 

“He’s in love with Christ,” Lauren says.

I’m confused. Isn’t she in love with Christ too? I ask her that.

“Yes, but I can’t show it like he can…” She falls quiet. “I don’t know,” she adds, “I can’t explain it. You’d have to meet him to see what I’m talking about.”

I do have to meet Matthew. It will give me an excuse to visit her in Tucson, if I ever have money to get out of here.

Off the subject of the handsome hunk Matthew, Lauren tries to explain her reaction to the knowledge of her pregnancy. A part of her was hoping the pregnancy was in her head. Then she had an intense prayer session with Melissa on Christmas evening. Melissa was speaking in tongues, a concept I can’t understand to save my life, and Lauren interpreted what Melissa’s oral puke of tongues was confessing.

“Joshua’s a really common name. Christian and Jewish…”

Lauren rolls her eyes. She knows that. She doesn’t even like the name Joshua. But she’s determined not to disobey the Lord. She’s going to stop questioning why and just do it.

Okay, okay! She can stop yelling at me. I get it! Jeez…Lauren can be such a− a bold, brassy woman. Talk about difficult to be around or tolerate. God!

Once she saw the results of the home test, the enemy swooped in and took over her brain. She lost it. She knew earlier that she was set up to break down. Her spirit was too calm. Practically not herself, she threw a fit like a three year old. As a witness to this account she speaks of, she indeed portrayed a three year old.

“I couldn’t do it…” Lauren says.

“You couldn’t do what?” I ask.

“I couldn’t explain everything, not until you,” She says, as an arm emerges from underneath her covers. She reaches that arm over me and holds me. She thanks me for being by her side.

“Thank you… I feel like you’re the only one who understands me.”

I think she’s trying to make me cry. Her gratitude is endearing. I do understand her. Unfortunately, I know where she’s coming from. I’ve been where she’s at. But, because we are blessed, we are not going back.

Wow, I am crying. Compassion does that to a person, at least to girls! Together, we cry until we can’t anymore.

Junior called Rancher Santa and Sandy Baby. He’s pretty freaked out from Lauren’s meltdown. Lauren only got a twenty minute nap before Pastor Glenn and Sandy returned home. I didn’t realize we talked that long, but we must have if they seemingly made it back so quickly. 

Drew T had stayed. He tried to comfort Junior, however, by the looks of his puffy eyes, it didn’t work. Pastor Glenn is demanding to know what’s going on. He wants to know why both his children are a mess.

I look at Lauren, who is sitting quietly at the top of the staircase. I can tell she’s trying to figure out how to tell her parents she’s been raped. Where does she start? Does she start with the pregnancy, or with the rape account?

I have no place to say anything. I keep my mouth shut, leaning on the railing at the feet of the staircase.

Drew T gets stupid. Nervously, he musters up the courage of a fool and asks, “Pastor Glenn, may I have Lauren’s hand in marriage?”

Oh, I can’t watch what happens next. I press my forehead to my arm and stare at the hardwood flooring. I definitely can listen though; people might want to hear this.

Pastor Glenn’s footsteps make a circle around Drew T. I can only imagine the look on P.G’s face− an expression of a predator about to make a fatal move on his prey. His footsteps cease and the floor he stands on makes a subtle creek.

I hear Lauren stand and walk down the steps. Oh, the urge to watch is strong, but if I watch, my shock and awe may cause me to miss what they say. Sandy, not knowing when to take a cue, asks what’s going on. Stay out of this, Sandy. I know you gave Lauren life, but this event will be far more memorable if you stay out of it, woman!

“Daddy,” Lauren starts to say. She doesn’t say anything else. She isn’t given the chance.

“I know I already asked sir, but I was just a kid−,” Drew T is cut off by Pastor Glenn.

“You still are a kid. Both of you!” He snaps.

Oh, I want to see the look on his face so badly! After I dance the urge out, I get still. I can’t risk getting kicked out.

Pastor Glenn asks a sufficient question. Where’s the fire? Why such a need to get hitched? Jokingly, he asks if there’s a baby on the way. I picture everyone looking to Lauren for an answer.

Knowing it’s her cue, Lauren says, “I’m pregnant.”

Oh I love it! The tone of her voice was just right. She confessed her pregnancy like her back was against the wall and she was waiting for an avalanche to fall.

Sandy gasps, totally astonished that her daughter is pregnant. Pastor Glenn jumps to conclusions about her virtues. Holding his anger back under a belittling, soothing voice, he asks what in the world made her break her purity vow. I’ve never heard Pastor Glenn like this. He sounds less like a pastor and more like a man… Well, all pastors are mere men. Pastors are just men appointed by God to teach His Word.  But I’m rarely around Pastor Glenn, and the few times I’ve stayed here, he’s basically the same man he is in church. Therefore, I assume he’s Pastor Glenn all the time. Now I’m reminded that he’s also Rancher Glenn or even regular Glenn.

I’m waiting for Lauren to deliver the rest of the blow. Tell them the full truth Lauren, I think. 

She remains silent as Pastor Glenn shares he knows Drew T isn’t the father. He knows his little girl wouldn’t take advantage of a boy. If only he heard himself make such a statement. Girls and boys naturally flock together. If Drew T gave me the chance, I would hit that! The old me would, not the me grounded in Christ… However, it doesn’t mean the temptation isn’t there.

I look up because I’m genuinely worried Lauren’s going to lie or just not say anything. Her eyes gaze into mine with anguish, as if she’s begging not to tell them. I give her the look that says ‘you better tell them’! Anxiously, she gulps loudly. After a couple of licks of her lips, she allows honesty to answer all the unanswered questions in the room.

This moment is so awkward… I feel like I shouldn’t be here. But if I leave, I feel like it would be rude. I’m stuck, like an ugly trinket on the shelf. You know, that trinket that was a gift from a family member and you don’t have the balls to throw it away. So you stick it on the shelf, and try to hide it behind all the pretty stuff on the darkest side. That’s how I feel. I’m ugly trinket girl.

Lauren only gave the basic facts. If she repeated what she told me, we would have needed to take a seat. I’m proud of her. I knew Lauren could do it. I also know restlessness is probably roaring in her as we all stand in stiff silence. Hold on to God’s peace! Put on your shoes of peace, I think.

 Pastor Glenn’s pretty choked up. On the brink of tears, he clears his throat. Sandy already has quiet tears trickling down her cheeks. I’m amazed she’s not completely derailed on the floor in a pool of her own salty tears. Sandy is the type of woman to make every problem− hers or someone else’s− all about her.

“Miss Isley, could you please take Junior upstairs. Drew T, I think that it’s best you head home. Honey… Lauren…the kitchen now, please…” Pastor Glenn says, commanding the ways of his house.  

Junior doesn’t need my guidance. He beats me to the stairs. I let him go first and then follow suit. Sliding my hand against the railing as I ascend, I think about how blessed Lauren is to have parents who love her. My mother would have kicked me out. Then she would have taken me back in because, being a single mother, I could get money from the state.  I would only go back if I had nowhere else to go… I think? I hope…

Not wanting to be alone, I join Junior in his room. He asks me what I want to play. I have the option of Hot Wheels or taking turns using the remote control car that Lauren Christmas-gifted him. Neither option appeals to my entertainment pallet. I choose the remote control car because I can just watch him or the car. I don’t really feel like doing anything. I could lie here on the floor, close my eyes, and let the world pass me by.

Why am I sitting on a hardwood floor? It’s a pretty color: a deep, captivating cherry wood− basically a dark brown hue with a faint, California-fresh cherry red finish− a beautiful coloring for wood flooring in my opinion. 

I decide to lie down on the floor and close my eyes. 

“Why are you doing that?” Junior asks.

“Cause I feel like it.”

He doesn’t make a comment. Racing the remote control car around me in a circle, he makes the sound of an engine with his mouth. As if the small battery powered motor of the fake race car isn’t enough! I ask him why he’s making that noise.

He says, “Cause I feel like it,” in the spirit of poetic justice.

I laugh because I should have seen that coming. Junior’s a smart kid. Maybe that’s because he doesn’t watch TV. The Tyler’s don’t ban him from TV; he chooses not to watch it. Of course, if I only had the living room to watch TV, I wouldn’t watch it either. He’d rather be outside or running around the house pretending to be a race car driver. He seriously needs to be introduced to race car video games. That’s one thing the Tyler’s do ban. They are not advocates of the video game age.

“Drew T said my sister fell away from God and she went all crazy cause she left God, is that what rape means?” He asks.

How do I answer that one God? Isn’t he too young to learn what rape means? Lying is bad, but can’t I lie so he can keep his innocence just a little longer?

I open my eyes as I sit up. Whoa! I think I sat up too fast. The world threatens to start spinning. But it doesn’t. It stays normal. Haha… That’s funny! The world is technically always spinning. Duh, Makayla! What was I going to say? Oh, yeah.

“Drew T didn’t know what he was talking about. Lauren didn’t fall away from God. So no, that’s not what rape means.”

Glenn Jr. ponders what I said. For a moment, I think he’s going to accept that response, but he’s a kid. I should know better. No response is ever enough for the mountain of questions borne by a child.

“Then what does rape mean?” He asks.

How do I explain it to a seven year old? Well, rape is bad… A man or a woman can be raped… children even… Ugh… This is AWKWARD! I guess I could describe it the usual way. Like he’s actually going to know what sex means, but then that could lead to more questions… I could just not tell him, but then what if anyone tries to molest him? He needs to know what it is to protect himself.

“Do you know how you got here?”

He nods, “God made me in my mom’s tummy.”

Typical Biblical answer… Ugh! I hope Pastor Glenn doesn’t get upset with me.

“But you understand that your parents have to do something so God can make you, right?”

I should have known he wouldn’t really know. He shakes his head very confused, but he still manages to stay focused on playing with his remote control car.

“Well… your parents have to make a type of love that only husband and wife are allowed to make. You’ll understand that type of love years from now, and you’ll experience it when you get married when God brings the right woman into your life.”

“The right woman? What kind of woman?” He asks.

Way to get off topic. A woman that he thinks about all the time… a woman he loves more than his parents and his sister. A woman that he can’t imagine living his life without… All of that goes over his head, but he pretends like he gets it.

I go back to the subject that started this conversation. I carefully explain that rape is when a man… or a woman… misuse the type of love meant for husband and wife and they end up deeply hurting another person. Glenn Jr. becomes stagnant. Through his eyes, I see the inner workings of his thoughts. Quickly, his face displays sympathy. He lowers his hands to his side, his controller still clenched in his right one.

“Somebody hurt my sister?” He asks, holding back his tears.

“Yes, in one of the worst ways possible.”

Curling his lip, he digs his fingers in his vibrant, orange-red hair. Sighing, he questions, “But Jesus can still heal Lauren’s hurt, right?”

“Of course, as long as she lets Him,” I say.

He sits on the floor across from me. He folds his legs into a natural feeling bow. Placing his controller between his legs, he asks, “Jesus can heal the person who hurt Lauren too, can’t He? Dad says people who hurt others are hurting too.”

Again, it depends on that person. But I nod as I say, “Your dad is right.”

He picks up his controller and hands it to me. Telling me it’s my turn and that I don’t have a choice, he smiles. He’s totally done with the complicated questions. God, he’s a smart kid! Just like Lauren. I wonder where the smarts come from, daddy or mommy?

I guess I could race the red car. It might be fun. Okay, as I steer the car in a circle around us, I’m having fun! Then again, I’m easily entertained.

“If I’m old enough, and you don’t have a husband yet, will you marry me?” 

Glenn Jr. blindsided me with that question.

I thought we were done with the questions. And I thought he was smart? Can’t he see? Our age difference is too great. When he is 18, I’ll be 31! I hope I’m married by then. I have to at least have one kid of my own.

“As great of a man as you will be when you’re old enough, I think God will send you a woman closer to your age.”

“That woman better be like you, because I don’t want any other kind.”

Damaged goods are the last thing he wants. But I’m curious, why does he want a woman like me? Therefore, I ask him.

Hitting me right in the heart, he says, “I love your laugh.”

Aww… I try not to laugh because for whatever reason, my brain finds this moment funny. That’s the sweetest thing any boy has ever said to me. Maybe I will take him, when he’s old enough of course! The woman that marries Glenn Jr. will truly be blessed.

Fast-paced, heavy footsteps storm up the stairs and down the hall, accompanied by hollering and screaming from two parties. Oh my God! I think Lauren is arguing with her father. Why?

Lauren stops right outside Junior’s door. We have a perfect picture of her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much rage engulf her, head to toe. She accuses Pastor Glenn of not consulting the Lord before he made a decision. What, does he not think Joshua is a good name for a baby boy?

Pastor Glenn proclaims he’s making the best decision for Lauren and the baby. Next, she throws his decision to not let her study abroad in his face. 

“I got raped anyhow!” She hollers. 

Ooh… that has to cut Pastor Glenn in the heart…

Pastor Glenn threatens to quit paying for her education if she keeps the baby. What? He wants her to get an abortion? That’s ungodly! God doesn’t approve of baby murder. You tell him Lauren!

I rise to join her stance against her father when she yelps that she isn’t placing the child in adoption. Oh, that is a good idea. She never has to see the child and it finds a loving home. I wish my mother gave me up for adoption like she planned. Maybe she would hate me less…

 Times like these remind me how human we are. I never, in a million years, pictured I’d see Lauren in a moment like this. Her eyes look fiercer than a hungry, hunt-ready coyote. Her face, made of flesh tone, white-man skin is bright red. I think she’s about to pop blood vessels. That can happen when you’re really angry, right? I don’t know…

Claiming her own brand of authority, she commands her father.

“Go pray on it! If He tells you what you told me, then I’ll do it your way.”

Pastor Glenn finally steps into our door frame picture. He reaches out to Lauren but she backs away from him. Changing his tone, as kindly as he can, he says, “The enemy comes on like an angel of light sweetheart, maybe you heard what you wanted to hear.”

“I’ll pray you remember that,” she says disdainfully.

She pivots on her foot to face the other direction and fumes to her room. She slams the door to let everyone know how angry she is. This must be all the hormones she’s held in during this frantic tizzy. 

Pastor Glenn allows worry, coupled with confusion, to forecast on his face. He looks at his watch and the reality of time enters his bubble. Glenn Jr. isn’t surprised, nor does he fight, when Glenn Sr. tells him to get ready for bed. I excuse myself from Junior’s room and head to my own. But I don’t get very far before Pastor Glenn stops me.

“She says she talked to you and it helped… What’d you tell her?”

Pastor Glenn, the man in the business of listening, actually thinks I told her something? I try not to shake my head, but it’s too late. I already did. Pastor Glenn has gone from the podium to the altar in my eyes, but I won’t tell him that. I tell him the truth instead, “She did all the talking; I just listened.”

He lets me walk away. I don’t have to look at him, over my shoulder, to know he’s in a deep state of thought. God, I’m like a preacher woman today. I offered Lauren comfort and then bestowed wisdom on a pastor… The Lord has granted me a good day.

Your dad could be dead. The gut-wrenching thought jumped to my mind. Maybe I should call the hospital to check in on him? No, you should pray for him… really pray for him… My mind tells me. I know that thought is partly the Lord.

Fine, I’ll pray. I’ll pray now, before I get ready for bed. I sit on the bed, thinking of how I can begin. I don’t know… I’m not good at praying like Melissa and Lauren. Maybe I should ask Lauren for help. No, you can do this. Yes, I can!

Dear God, I pray for my earthly father… I know you know… he hasn’t been much of one, but for whatever reason… you allowed me to be his daughter… Trust me, I don’t get why… Then again, I realize he’s made his choices and unfortunately, he’s made poor ones concerning me. Thank you Christ Jesus, that you have set me free from the abuse of my father and I know you’re more than all I need. Why can’t my dad see that? Why can’t my mother even? They think doing good things alone will get them to heaven but they don’t even treat me good or themselves! I lift my dad up to you Lord, may he live another day and I cling to the hope that he finds you and is no longer the man I know now… My mom too… save her too. In your son’s precious Holy Name, Jesus Christ, Amen.

Sleep never comes easy to me. I am baffled as to why that is. I also never remember my dreams; well, that’s not true. I do occasionally. When I do recall dreams, they’re never bizarre or terrifying; they’re quite pleasant. I like to think my subconscious is really good at looking after me. It bares all the nastiness of my mind and never shares it with my unconscious state.

Part of my problem could be that my mind never stops running. I just keep thinking thought after thought until sleep suddenly consumes me. I can’t stop thinking about what the future holds for Lauren. She’s pregnant! A baby is brewing in her womb as I think and God knows who that baby is… he knew how the baby would get there! That’s what blows my mind… how could he let that happen? Okay, dumb question… Who am I to question God? God’s foresight crushes mine through the entirety of the cosmos. What seems like internal bleeding in our spirits could be like a harmless bug bite in God’s Spirit.

And what is Pastor Glenn going to do about all this? Is he really praying to the Lord for guidance, or is he still going to do his own thing? Will he be patient and listen to God? Sometimes God takes forever to respond, or so I’ve heard. I’ve never had a real serious situation where I needed an answer from him. I know I’ll eventually reach that point, and I pray I can do the right thing and wait for him to lead me.

Why did Melissa dump J.P.? I guess she’s really not pregnant. That her extra tummy fat is just that− fat. What was the rush to get married so quickly anyhow, if she wasn’t pregnant? I guess we’ll never really know now. But why did they have to call it quits? They gave me hope that I could find Mr. Right, and now what? Settle for Mr. Okay? As much as I would love to go out with J.P., I never could. That totally breaks the girl code. You don’t date the ex of a girlfriend. 

But God’s will trumps the girl code, right? Alright, I don’t think God would tell me Mr. Right is J.P., but he could… Couldn’t he? Nothing in the Bible says it’s wrong to go out with the ex of a friend. The girl code is a man-made thing. Then again, God doesn’t want you to cause strife, and the whole idea is causing strife in my heart. I’m going to drop the thought before I get too infatuated with J.P.

Drew T might as well be cut from my list of hot, nearly perfect eligible men also. He’s totally smitten by Lauren! I knew he had a thing for her, but I didn’t think it was so intense… Now that she kinda has eyes for him, I lost what little chance I had. He’s completely convinced they’re getting married and he has an in… Lauren’s pregnant… Babies always need daddies. Awe… Drew T is going to be a fantastic father! He’s really cute when he plays tag or monster with Glenn Jr.

And Glenn Jr.! Why couldn’t Pastor Glenn and Sandy have him sooner, so he would be closer to my age? I’m so ticked at them! Who has two kids generations apart? Clearly one child wasn’t planned, and I’m guessing it was Glenn Jr. 

Then again, I don’t think ginger and half Navajo is a good mix… Our kids would definitely be unique, but I don’t think the good kind of unique. Plus, I got the ugliest square jaw from my white-woman of a mother. It’s weird… I’m like a Navajo version of my mom. We have the same eyes, head, body-shape, etc. The only difference is our noses, mine’s more like my father’s, and I have my father’s skin. The dark complexion and smooth, almost hairless skin are nearly an identical match. 

I’m really not that pretty… Maybe I shouldn’t ever have kids. No, I have to have kids because I really want to be a mom.  I want like five kids, but I’m okay with having two. As long as I have one boy and one girl, I don’t care which comes first. I should have done better in school so I could have gone to college. I would be free from here by now. I wouldn’t have to pay for a dime of my education. Wait, maybe I can still go to college… I’m half Navajo, that has to count for something. The sooner I get out of this rotting hole the better. Maybe I’ll be able to get a full, long night’s sleep.

*Edited by Aly Fry

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