There is a scene in the movie Wizard of Oz where Dorothy sets out on her great journey to see the Wizard. She asks the good witch, Glenda, “Where do I start for Emerald City?” and Glenda, the good witch, answers, “It’s always best to start at the beginning”.
I was your typical suburban single mom. I had a great job as an Interior Decorator for a small "mom and pop" furniture store. My mother lived with me then. As did a son and daughter. My daughter was in her first year of college, my son, his last year of grade school, and my mom, though elderly and ill, had all her facilities about her. I spent each day helping people design their interiors. The mayor's office, the city attorney's office, Presidents Bush's friends. Every night I came home, tended to my family and then would head out to the ball fields to watch my son play. Sunday's were family days. I usually made a big pancake breakfast and then we would head off to mass. After mass I was involved in a church group. I had started a "Socks for the Homeless" group and we would gather items, food, clothing etc, and go out on the streets of Memphis in search of the less fortunate ones who lived underneath bridges or in vacant houses. Giving them a little comfort. I knew these homeless people were mostly drug addicts or drunks. That wasn't the point. The point was, they were God's children and as a Christian, I felt impelled to reach out to the ones society had forgotten. As a Catholic, I believed that faith without works is dead faith. The homeless, in a sense, became my personal ministry. These projects also brought me a lot of respect from the community and my church family. It was that mindset that led me to the next level of my life and the ultimate test of my faith.
One evening in early October of 2006, I'm thinking it was about the 3rd or 4th, I came home to find my teenaged son ill. He had been vomiting and was running a high fever. I gave him some Pepto-Bismol and Tylenol and sent him to bed. Later that night he awoke me screaming from the bathroom. I ran in just in time to see my son vomit blood. Panicked, I rushed him to the local emergency room. The doctors came in, some time around midnight, and suggested we test my son for appendicitis. I knew that would be a long night for me. I settled into the fact that my son would be having surgery but was going to be okay. They took my son to xray for tests. I headed for the free coffee room every hospital has. While I was getting my coffee, two local sheriff's deputies came in with a man in handcuffs. This man was full of dirt and grime and blood. Apparently from what I could gather, the man had run from the deputies and they had to rough him up a bit apprehending him. Good I thought. He's a criminal. I hope they beat him good. I had always been very supportive of police. Underpaid, overworked, putting their lives on the line for us everyday. Cops, I thought then, were honorable men and women who never got the respect and admiration they deserved. I watched as they escorted him into one of the rooms for examination. The examination was brief, and later I saw them escort this criminal out into a waiting patrol car to transport him to the local jail I'm sure. About 7 am the next day, my son's test came back. No appendicitis. It was merely a busted blood vessel in his throat from all the vomiting. They gave him some medicine and sent us home. I tucked my son into bed, called in sick to work, and headed for my bedroom to lie down. Calling in sick to work was something I had never done. As a single parent, I had never had the luxury of missing a day's pay. But this particular day, the first Wednesday in October 2006, the Lord had other plans for me. I was about to experience my "60 Seconds" that would alter the direction of my life, forever. A wise man once told me, you cannot change God's will for your life. No matter what happens, God always directs your life into the direction he wishes. My life was re-directed that day. My son's illness, the night in the hospital, the scene with the deputies I had witnessed, my experiences with the homeless, were all instigated by God to lead me into an murder mystery. An unsolved murder that occurred in Polk County Florida some 14 years ago.
No comments:
Post a Comment