Hope Reborn

2015

INTRODUCTION

One night after attending a three-day Christian conference, I had climbed into bed bone weary, looking forward to a good night’s sleep. At 4:30 AM, I was awakened and received this message from my Lord:

Kay, my dear and precious daughter, I am with you, I am filling you. I am giving you the words to bless the nation. This is truly what you were created for… like Ester, I am using you as a tool to reach my people. You have been created for such a time as this. You are excited and once again set on fire. You are being given the key to open the gates into the paradise I have prepared for them. They too will number like the stars in the sky.

And thus began the writing of this book. Its purpose is to create in you a desire to know this God in a more intimate way than you did when you picked it up. Before you go any further, I want you to know that according to the world’s standards, I have no credentials to write this book; but when it is God’s will, all things are possible, not only for me, but for you.

My desire is that as your hands touch this book, you too will be filled with hope and remain open to hearing from the God of the universe; that your faith will grow and you will receive the destiny He has in store for you. God knows our hearts and does not want to lose even one of His children. Like His disciples, He is a fisher of men. Each and every one of His children is a treasure too highly valued to be lost. I, like our Savior, do not want one person to miss out on all that has been prepared for them. May this book minister to those who are searching. May you be touched even after your fingers have relinquished the last page of this book to the point you will share it and God’s love with all you encounter.

CHAPTER 1

DO ALL GOOD THINGS COME TO AN END?

1976

There I was, my car loaded with my four small children, frantically driving back and forth on our three-quarter mile graveled road. My heart was pounding in my throat. I quickly approached the highway to town then stopped, turned around, and drove back to our ranch.

I reminded myself of a turkey I once saw that came out of the shelter of the trees, crossed the fence, and went to the creek for a drink of water. That had been a lovely day suddenly blessed with a spring shower that revived the hay meadow the turkey just crossed. When the rain started to fall, the big bird tried to return to the shelter of its home in the woods but was unable to find an opening in the fence. I watched it frantically run back and forth, searching for a place to slip through.

In the turkey’s panic trying to decide What to do, what to do?, I saw a hunter spot the turkey, shoot it, and pick it up in anticipation of having wild turkey for dinner. A surge of adrenalin seemed to rush through the hunter’s body as he noticed a metal tag on the turkey’s leg. Those tags request that whoever shot the bird notify the Fish and Wildlife Department so they would know how far it had traveled. Of course that didn’t happen as turkeys were out of season. The hunter quickly threw the turkey in the back of his pickup and headed for home. I knew that hunter well as he was Dick, my husband. I also knew the hunter had no trouble making his decision; he always wanted to find a turkey and shoot it. He and I spent many hours crawling through bushes in an effort to sneak up on a turkey and shoot it with no success, so Dick was absolutely delighted when he came across that turkey fluttering in a state of confusion on the land on which he ran our cattle.

The hunter didn’t care that it was months ahead of the season for shooting turkeys. Like most ranchers at that time, he usually had a rifle in his pickup in case of coyotes or other critters that might be causing trouble, so being armed and ready, he took advantage of the situation. He never before shot a turkey, and it was high on his bucket list.

Everyone should learn something from all experiences. The turkey learned nothing, for the hunter brought the darkness that looms waiting to swoop in and attack when least expected. What should have been a nice walk in the park for that big bird ended up being a total change of venue. It allowed a bullet to eliminate whatever plans a turkey might have, making him the game for turkey dinner. What more can you take from anything than its life? The hunter only learned that wild turkeys are tough and take longer to cook than domestic turkeys.

My name is Kay, and I was like that turkey. I lived in the country on a small ranch. My husband and I had been married thirteen years and had four young children. We just came through the Christmas holiday season. Dick was gone a lot and had been fairly irritable. Here it was, New Year’s Day. He wouldn’t do anything with us, but he also forbade us to go to town to have dinner with my folks though Dick had always been close to them. I couldn’t figure out what the problem was. After much debate with myself, I loaded the children, ranging from five months to ten years, into the car and headed to town. Like the turkey, I kept racing back and forth up and down the road until I finally got the courage to leave that country road, get on the highway, and head the twenty miles to town. After some years of marriage I was to discover that Dick could become violent when things didn’t go his way. After building my courage up, I went ahead and spent the day with my family and returned home in a slower, almost reluctant manner. In the days to come I wondered if I, like the turkey, had neighbors watching and wondering what I was doing that day as I had frantically raced up and down the country road between our home and the highway leading to town. I, like the turkey, had been wondering, What to do, what to do?

The next evening, Dick and I had a blow up, and I learned the truth behind my unanswered questions. After dinner, he came out of the bedroom in his good clothes, which was an indication he was going to town. When I said, You don’t need to be running off to town, he responded, Get used to it. I have a pregnant girlfriend, so you have to move out as there isn’t room for all of us in the house. Then he stormed out. I was in shock, and my whole being went numb, unable to comprehend that the life I loved with the man I had placed my faith in was over. All of my plans for the future now belonged to someone else. While I was trying to sort things out in my mind, my body went into robot mode as I did the dishes, vacuumed the floor, and cared for the children. It was like when I was a little girl, Mom had always been there with band aids and medicine to help with my wounds and to let me know I was loved. The next morning I decided to take the children and go see her.

The next evening, Dick and I had a blow up, and I learned the truth behind my unanswered questions.

My thoughts were swirling. I thought, I’ve put everything I have into this marriage and this life which I love. What did I do wrong? Where will I go? I am a failure. How will I be able to take care of my children? I again loaded my precious children into my car and headed to town and my parents’ house. I felt dead inside as I entered their home. Had the same darkness that snuffed out the life of that turkey slipped in on me, trying to snuff out my life and the lives of my children? There is darkness out there, a spirit of destruction that comes to lie, steal, cheat, and kill. I was soon to learn that marriages and families are one of its main targets.

As I entered the house, my Dad greeted me with, Good morning, Katrinka, and Mom said, Come and join us. They were sitting at the kitchen table. Although they seldom argued, as I entered their home they were having a fairly heated discussion about an addition my mother wanted, a deck on the house. I gently broke into their conversation with, Well, if you think you have problems, and told them Dick and I were getting a divorce. They were as surprised as I had been. I never shared with them the times Dick lost his temper, throwing temper tantrums, or when he would get upset and lash out, taking his frustration out on me. I was too ashamed to tell anyone about those times over our years together. I felt that no one would treat you that way if you didn’t deserve it, especially someone who supposedly loved you.

My parents loved Dick and enjoyed going out to our ranch where we all had good times together, picking wild berries, celebrating birthdays, butchering chickens, or just getting together on the weekends. Often my sister Jacque, her husband Clarence (who lived in town), and their children would come out too. We would all go on picnics, fishing trips, and camping. If Dick and I needed an extra driver when moving equipment or hauling grain or livestock, my father would come out to the ranch and help as he was self-employed and could set his own hours. We all had so many good times together. The four of us loved to play pinochle. We usually did that while Dick and I were in town and there weren’t so many other things going on. Mom would help me when I was sick, pregnant, or had extras such as hunters, branding crews, or sheep shearers to cook for. One time my Dad brought some medicine out to our place when one of the children was sick. I had Dad hold the sick baby while I changed the sheets on my bed. I came out of the bedroom giggling. I cooked for hunters and raised turkeys for extra income, so I would usually stash the money in various places to have when I needed it. That day I found money I had forgotten about under my mattress. I was glad the checks were still cashable. Dad just shook his head and smiled. We were a close family who made ourselves available for each other when needed. My father gave each of us nicknames. Mine was Katrinka Jones. I always feel loved when I think of that name, Katrinka Jones. It brings a smile to my face and my heart. Dad was the only person who called me that, and it made me feel special.

Mom and Dad took their minds off the addition. The conversation changed to focus on me and the children. Finding a lawyer was the first decision that had to be made. I never needed a lawyer before, but I needed one now. About that time the word divorce was being tossed out and replaced with the term disillusionment, which it certainly was. I felt more than disillusioned. The only thing that kept me going was my love for my children and my need and desire to take care of them.

While my folks were discussing how I should proceed, my mind wandered hither and yon. I felt so blessed to have such loving parents. As I look back over the years, they always made themselves available to assist me in any way they could. When I needed rides home from the hospital after the births of two of our children and Dick wasn’t there, they were. They were there after the birth of our second child, Dirk, who needed medical attention in another town when at birth he was badly jaundiced. Shawn, our daughter and first born, was jaundiced too, but we didn’t realize it as she just seemed to have a lovely olive complexion. Mom went with us and helped with the expenses, as so often in our life Dick and I barely had enough money to scrape by. We got an annual paycheck in the fall when we sold our 25 or so calves. With that we paid off our ranch expenses for the year. Usually there was some money left for living, but most of our daily living was paid for with the checks we got each week from selling the cream from our two milk cows, and that didn’t go very far. When I lost a lot of blood after the birth of our daughter Shawn and needed help, the baby and I stayed in town with Mom and Dad until I regained my strength and could go back to the ranch and my own home. My Mom fixed a dresser drawer as a bed for Shawn to sleep in. Mom had obviously had to do the same when she visited her parents with a baby.

When some of our cattle were stolen, my parents loaned us money to get by. I was comforted knowing they were always there for me even though they themselves never had an abundance for their own needs. I worked at selling Tupperware, often holding nighttime parties. My parents would babysit, and then they would wait up and have me call when the children and I got home to make sure we made it safely. I felt blessed to have a phone, because Dick and I lived our first few years together in an area with no phone service. One night I had car trouble a few miles from home. I was able to coast to a stop, but the alternator quit, so I had no lights. This was long before cell phones, so I took each sleeping child out of the car, snuggled them in blankets and coats, whatever I could find, and laid them on the highway approach. For some reason the overhead light inside the car worked, but it wasn’t enough to let people know our vehicle was sitting alongside the road. That was why I took the children from the car. I was afraid someone might run into it. Dick knew I was on my way home, and I hoped he would come looking for us. Cars rushed by as I waited. Finally a pickup stopped. It was a man who worked checking the missile sites, as there were several in our area, one of which I had stopped close to. He told me he wasn’t supposed to pick anyone up, but looking at me and my three small children along the road in the middle of a dark night he broke the rules and gave us a ride. It didn’t take him very far out of the way, but it was a true blessing for me and the children.

In the years to come it crossed my mind that we are all supposed to have a guardian angel, and the children’s and mine must have been on duty that night. When I got home Dick was in bed. He had to get up and take care of the car while I put the children to bed and called my folks to let them know I was home. They were just getting ready to come looking for us.

The night before I was to go to Billings to have Kevin, our fourth and last child, I spent the day cooking for the fellas who were helping with the haying and adjusting the hose on my lawn and garden. July was hot and the garden and lawn needed watering before I took off for a few days to have the baby. We had a big yard and garden, so I was trying to soak the ground. By the time supper was over and the dishes done it was late, but I loaded up the children and their clothes to take them to my parents’ house. They were going to stay with grandma and grandpa while I was gone. Once more my car broke down a few miles from town. Fortunately, it was close to a house. However, the people were in bed, and once I got them up they didn’t want to let me use their phone. I finally talked them into it, wondering what they thought a nine-month pregnant woman could do to them. I called Dick; he was tired from haying and again on his way to bed. He told me to deal with it. Being pregnant, caring for three small children, and stuck several miles from town I called in the posse, my parents. They came and got us, giving me a ride back to my house and then returned to town with the children. I adjusted the hose one more time before going to bed as I had to get up early the next day for the trip to Billings and the delivery of my new baby. As I fell asleep I wondered if it would be a girl or boy.

My mind returned from its wandering to the discussion at hand with my parents. It didn’t look like Mom was going to get the deck she wanted, but I left their house, went to the lawyer we decided on, and proceeded with the divorce. As I was entering the building that housed the lawyer’s office I met an old neighbor I hadn’t seen for a few years. He commented on how good I was looking, and my response was, Thank you, you have no idea how I needed to hear that today. Then I proceeded to draw a close to my life of country living. There is a saying that all good things come to an end. Is that so, or is it perhaps that all good things weave down a path that leads to new opportunities, new good things, a new chance or lease on life, new beginnings? Isn’t life always what we choose to make it?

That poor turkey had left the shelter of home and went for a drink of water, not realizing that by exposing himself to the world at that time he was walking from life to death. While I left the comfort of my home, making that three-quarter mile journey down the gravel road to the highway, I was exposing myself to the world and what it held. I was going from death to life, for I too was in need of water, living water. I had no idea that I had just started on my journey to finding it, or even what living water was. So many things happen in life while we so seldom realize how important the decisions we make are, either those forced by circumstances or freely chosen.

I believe that who we are is affected by who and where we come from. Picture a spider weaving its web. The spider is just there until it throws out that first strand of silk to weave a web. Then when the spider is attached to something, he throws out another strand and another, connecting the strands together. He has become a creator, and as more strands are added, a web is made. Have you ever looked closely at a spider web? It really is a beautiful creation. How big and how strong it is depends on how it is built. Different spiders make different webs. When checking the encyclopedia, I found that spiders build from what program has been installed in them. I feel we, as people, are made by our Creator. It all started with one person, was added to by another, and then on down the line. There’s no telling how long a web might last before something destroys it. Two people, a man and a woman, join together and form another person. This can go on forever and ever. How long the people last and how far extended we get depends on what we take in physically, spiritually, and morally, and how strong we become. Will we let predators