As I think back over my life, I think of it in a variety of phases. I was born in a tiny village in the Belgium Congo. I came to America when I was two, or so I’ve been told. My family returned to the Congo when I was 12. This, I clearly remember. I was dropped off at a boarding school and my parents mysteriously disappeared. The boarding school was in the capital city of Kinshasa. My parents returned to the tiny village of Vanga where I was born.
Living in the Congo is not something I would recommend for the light-hearted. It was a difficult experience, to say the least. I caught malaria a number of times. Got up close and personal with snakes, cockroaches and hippos, giving me an external fear of anything creepy, crawly.
After graduating from high school, I returned to America by myself. I thought of America as being the Promised Land and vowed never to live in a 3rd world country again. After several years of toiling as a waitress, I moved to Houston, Texas. This was the land of opportunities and boys! I worked for a small Jewish law firm where the owners treated me like their daughter. I dated a number of boys all of whom I thought were potential marriage partners. It was a great adventure but God had other ideas for me. He called me back to Oregon to renew acquaintance with my family.
I thought of Oregon as a time of penance but that is where I met my amazing husband. We have been married for 31 years and have two amazing grown daughters.
The last and/or present phase of my life began when both of my daughters were out of the country. To keep from falling apart emotionally, my husband suggested I take a writing class and the rest is history…