This Road I Travel

When as oft
This road I travel
Comes to highways
Byways far -
Off the beaten path
Treading upon places still tender
It does me well to remember
I've miles to go
Before I sleep.

Surely I borrowed a line or two. Not really original. Not special. Not anything really. Just serving a purpose, but not even sure what.

Today was not so victorious. Yesterday a time to rest. Now the day before, that was memorable. I was finally able to pen my last short story for ON A RAMBLE. I can now organize it and bring it to print, without permission or apologies... This one's mine. I have a definite marketing plan and I look forward to seeing what I can do. This book is mostly fun. I've stretched my imagination and I'm happy with where that imagination has taken me. I wrote a forward for the book today. It's called, Sorting Socks. It was cathartic. Don't know if I'll use it. Could cause legal concerns that I'll have to weigh. Makes me tired to think that I could end up in court, but it has happened. Not righteously mind you, but happened just the same. No matter. More weighty things to share. Ah, what the hey? Who's reading this blog anyway? Maybe it won't make it into the book, but here's for giggles.

"Sorting Socks"

Writing upon writing. Layer upon layer.

To whom is given much, much is required.

So I write Christian novels; issue-based, Christian novels.

But what do I do when faced with real issues in my own life?

What do I do when I'm 'assaulted' week after week by someone who is blatantly threatening my relationship with my own husband? What do I do when that same entity turns the whole situation back on me - to save her own reputation and I'm politely thrown out of church?

And how, pray tell, can a nice Christian woman be politely thrown out of church?

Enough said. Need I say more? Dis-owning my own hurt, my own emotions, my own feelings was my only recourse.

"Forgiveness," my new Pastor says, you know the one; the one that I don't really know, the one that doesn't know me - Like the other - in a way, 'cause if he knew me - I mean the real me - then he'd still be my Pastor... "Forgiveness comes when you stop carrying around and sharing all that pain; that baggage. No one wants to hear about it."

No one wants to hear about it. So I write. In circles. Watching the blood and the gore innocently circling the drain and washing away. Ah, the grace of metaphor.

2/5/10
Anonymous (:

This short story will not end the book, but it was a goal that I had set for myself as a pre-requisite to completing the book. I guess because I just had to make it to the End - to the Victory - To the Prize!!! It speaks for itself.


"I Won!"


I handed off the baton today. I hadn’t even seen it coming! I have been running this race for so long now. I never dreamed that I had run my race – I had finished my course!

I handed over my pregnant pack of papers – no great relief there! How many sets of the same thing were in that stack? At least two – in many instances three… But that wasn’t the worst of it. Those papers meant something to me. They were the medical records and Social Security records of a lifetime – not my lifetime – but my daughter’s. In them was the first award letter. Yes, my daughter really was disabled.

But really, did I need an award letter to tell me that? Hadn’t the first six years of her life taught me that she was different? But so much more than different.

I would never have even considered applying for Social Security for a child. I had never heard of such a thing. And then even after applying I never really expected anything to come of it – in fact – nothing did – claim denied. I moved on. Then came the letter. New law. Re-apply the letter advised. Having nothing to lose, I did. Won the case. Pockets full of back pay – a new start – help with raising the children!

Cruised along, raising the girl as best as I knew how. Received a new letter. My daughter was officially no longer disabled! Somebody had overturned that new law… Funny – or not so – she was still the same little girl – you know the one – the one that I had toted from doctor to doctor for as long as I could remember. I’m afraid I had to beg their pardon. No longer disabled? Nothing had changed – except for the issues that we dealt with when she was just a little girl grew with her…

“You can’t win a Social Security case,” I was told one person after the other. “You just do your part, and I’ll do mine.” And somehow I coaxed person after person for that letter, that report, that next vital piece of paper. I put together all of my ‘evidence’ and submitted. Won the case!

The next time that Social Security determined that my daughter was no longer disabled I wasn’t able to intercede for her. I had to let it go – it was out of my hands.

Finally the day came where I was allowed to once again take the baton and run the race that I had begun so long ago – that race I was talking about – the one that I have completed.

Applied. Denied. Appealed. Not quite denied – delayed. Denied. Appealed.

Did I say sought council? Out the gate couldn’t get council. Middle of appeal – couldn’t get council.

When I received the letter from the Appeals Council, stating that the Judge had to look at the case again I was able to secure council!

The assistant to my daughter’s new Attorney was sure to tell her how amazing it was that her Mom has gotten a review of her case. Me – Mom – I’m feeling like the ladies’ being nice to me. But then when the lawyer himself complimented me on a job well done I was pleasantly surprised.

But I wasn’t done. There were stacks of papers sitting there – needing addressed. There were the medical forms that needed signed – not the legal assistant’s forms – which were important too – but the ones I brought… And what about waiting for at least a couple of weeks for the request so they’ll be more complete?

And then the most important detail – the Judge had made his ruling based on the report of what we have come to call, “The fifteen-minute man.”

That’s when it happened. It was so unexpected. So welcome.

“Can’t we get a copy of the court transcript?” I asked. Desperate to get the point across.

“We won’t be able to get that. It won’t happen. It’s over. You won.”

A reality check.

I won?

Wow!

The Judge has been ordered back to court. And that baton? It’s in skilled hands now.

Audrey Semprun
Joyful Noiz Ministries
©
02/03/10