Let it be kind . . .

Ok, so the new year rang in last night, and we toasted it with our traditional non-alcoholic beverage. The kids love to do it, and we always have to do it but always forget until the very last second. Its always a mad rush in the very minute before midnight, but we always get a splash in the glasses and get the glasses raised just before the 10 second countdown. Then there comes the inevitable, joyful shout of:

10!

9!

8!

7!

6!

5!

4!

3!

2!

1!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Everyone is so happy and dancing around, and the glasses clink, and there's just so much really gleeful chaos. The kids are pulling their poppers and streamers are flying. And then Darrin and I have to dash off to get Tori and her friend from their teenager dance at the LDS stake center. Good times . . .

It's cold outside, really cold, and that brings me back to my senses a bit too abruptly. It shocks me a bit, I guess. I settle into the passenger seat, and very suddenly I find myself sobbing, just sobbing so deeply. It comes from deep within me. It surprises me, coming from places of fear and sorrow I had tucked neatly away over the last 365 days of pain and and torment. Hidden things come peeking out to see what the fuss is all about, craning their necks around corners of doors too recently closed. Darrin just drives on toward our destination, holding my hand and letting me do whatever it is I'm doing.

My thoughts become cohesive - "Dear Lord", I begin to pray, "Please! PLEASE! Let this let this coming year be better! Just let it be better! My silent prayers become vocal as my sobs begin to calm, and Darrin hears, and understanding dawns. He squeezes my hand and says "We'll make it better, ok? We'll just MAKE it better!" There's a tone of desperation in the end of his statement. It's a declaration, a pronouncement. Somehow it will happen. I don't know how. I just don't know how, but it has to get better, doesn't it?

I'm going to be honest here - painfully so, in the hope that I might get some poison out of a wound and be able to just move on. One of the most horrible things that happened to me in 2009 was the betrayal of my brother Jim. If he reads this, I have no doubt that he will derive some sadistic pleasure from the reading thereof, and I honestly haven't written or even spoken of it prior to this moment because I just haven't wanted to give him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply he hurt me, but I'm beyond caring about that now. I'm ready to move on. He can't hurt me anymore. I'm removing his barbs. He has no hold on my anymore, no more control. By doing this, I am completely removing him from my life.

You see, I saved his life a year ago. He was dying, and resigned to it. He wanted to die, and no one knew what to do to save him but me. I had prayed about it, and the Lord gave me direction. Jim is a divorced man who has wasted his life feeling sorry for himself. He has chosen to be a pathetic loser and just spindle away his days doing mostly nothing. He lives with our parents, who are now in their 80s, in the garage and just was getting fatter and fatter every day until he finally had a stroke. And then he had another, and another. He was in really bad shape. He was dying.

So, nobody knew what to do with him and my mom called me and asked me to come. I prayed about it, and the Lord told me what to do. I needed to take him to the University of Utah to the Neurology team there. I needed to get him admitted to the Neurology ward. I didn't know what would happen, really, but that was what I needed to do. It was what I was going to do. So I did it. Everyone was a bit confounded that I actually did - the family, the ER people, the doctors. Nobody could really figure out how I got him admitted. I kind of bullied my way in, but I did it. He was there for 2 weeks before they figured out what to do with him, and I never left his side. The doctors didn't know what to do with him. They couldn't figure out what was going on, and they were ready to discharge him because they were baffled and didn't think they could do anything. But I was just waiting, because the Lord had told me to bring him there.

And then in the middle of the night one of the doctors decided to MRI his entire head and spine. It turned out he had a couple of tumors along his spinal column, called schwanomas, that were causing some of the paralysis and stroke-like symptoms he was experiencing. He went in for neuro surgery the next day.

Better than that, his sons, who had been estranged from him since his divorce 10 years before, came back to him. I spoke to them early on in Jim's hospitalization and told them that if they were ever going to reconcile with their dad, they needed to do it then, because he might die. So, they got together and came to see him. All was forgiven and they found out that they all loved each other. It was quite sweet and good.

Jim became physically better, and spiritually far better. He not only was able to live physically, but found reason to live! It was so amazing. It was a thrilling experience to go through with him. We became so close during this time, I can scarcely describe it. My heart opened up to him in a way it never had any of my brothers. During the 2 weeks I spent at the hospital by his bedside I developed such love and absolute devotion toward Jim. It was one of the sweetest experiences of my life.

I believe it also opened me up to allow me to remember being molested by our other brother. The trust I developed for my brother Jim was key in allowing my memory to come forward regarding our brother Bill, who Jim and I discussed in some detail in our hours together in the hospital. I trusted Jim so intimately, so deeply. When I went to my parents to disclose the most private and secret nightmare that I had kept to myself for over 30 years, that I had been sexually accosted by my oldest brother while in my tender years, Jim sat with us at the kitchen table. I felt comfortable having him there. I trusted him with that awful secret. He was my confidant. He was one of my truest friends, I felt.

Jim had called me a gem, a treasure, a jewel. And in the time to come after I disclosed the awful truth of my childhood rape, I went to him privately to speak with him about it. He told me that although he did not know exactly what to think, he knew that Bill was a liar and that I was not, so he felt inclined to believe me. I felt satisfied with that. I felt happy, in fact, that my dearest brother would stand beside me and support me in my time of agony and sorrow. I was so alone - my parents were calling me a liar, and I was trying to stand tall in the truth that I knew. I had been a victim, and my oldest brother was a convicted sex offender. My parents were defending his past behavior by saying that he was currently reformed! What an illogical defense!

And then Jim changed his mind. And then Jim was no longer my friend. And then the betrayal came, the attack began, the onslaught ensued. It was fairly bloody and ugly. I was stupid and hapless, even I must admit. I was witless and unexpecting. It was sabotage, really, a total ambush. He hunted me down and made his mark, and then stepped on my neck, the victor. Jim has always enjoyed a good barb, a good twist of the knife. He is rather sardonic and cruel that way. We've had a good laugh or two about that now and then. He enjoys a superior attitude about his brilliant intellect. He likes to play the fool as a means of laying in wait for his prey, and then he'll pounce when the moment is right. I've observed this behavior in him often, even been the victim of it many times myself, but never in such a cruel manner.

Good aim! Well met, old friend.

But was your marksmanship really worth the price?

And so I wrapped up my fretful sobbing session in the car as we pulled into the church parking lot to pick up my oldest daughter and her friend. I had brought glasses and another bottle of fakey bubbly stuff to toast the new year with Tori and her friend, and poured a splash into each glass (I brought pomegranate for Tori, her favorite, of course!). Our glasses clinked together as we cheered on the new year with joy. "Bring it on!", I thought! Bring it on, indeed. In the last year, I've danced through hellfire and splashed through high water!

Oh, let the next year be kind to us all . . .