I've been in the habit, before a Bible handout, of writing a last post... because I suspect I will be martyred at some point.
I'm done with goodbyes. If you haven't met me, seen me, and known me, from 2 thousand some posts, not counting message boards and Facebook - you never will.
I'm enjoying my life, and I have.
I'm going to tell you about July 4th, 1992. I used to love the 4th of July; my grandmother would come to visit when I lived on the East Coast, and we'd attend the fireworks show at a local school. It was lovely. I enjoyed the special attention from Grandma, good barbeque, and quality time with my family.
A cross country move took care of visits from Grandma; I got her on Thanksgiving, instead. My illness did a pretty good job of ruining pretty much every summer I had. I would get horrendous summertime depressions.
I had a whopper in July of 1992. Ron and I had met, and were "sneaking around". Well, would you let YOUR 17 year old date a 37 year old, unemployed man? A blind man? Hell, no. Any parent who'd consent to that ought to have their head examined. My Dad worried I would get exploited, and Ron was not a good provider at that point.
Even my new love couldn't help with that depression, though. I had just been "held back" from graduating high school, I suspect in part so the special ed department could get a fancy new computer. All my friends were moving on to the next stage in their life, and I was looking forward to months yet in special ed and the humiliation of being a "senior", again.
Oh, I wanted to die so desperately. My parents accepted an invitation to visit with some church friends. Their twin boys hung out with my little brother, who was out of town, so it was me and some boys who were years younger, and adults. I just remember, wanting to die, the whole day.
Fast forward 19 years; I'm preparing for my biggest Bible handout ever. My medication has given me a great quality of life, and God has given me the grace to deal with all my problems.
I don't need to say goodbye.
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