First baptist church springtown

Every year as camp meeting time approaches, I recall a memory of a woman standing in front of College View Church holding a sign in protest during one of the days of camp meeting. I was only about 10 or 11 years old, so don’t remember what the sign said, but I remember my mom telling me and my siblings that we should pray for her because she had been hurt by someone in the church. I remember seeing people avoiding eye contact with her as they walked right past her and into the church. I also remember feeling like someone should do something so no one else ever got hurt like that again. As I think about it more and more, I realize this event might have actually contributed in small way to my deconstruction. This was the first time I realized the church was not a perfectly happy place all the time and that something might be wrong.

3.99 overall GPA, 4.0 sGPA
511 MCAT
Research: 600 hours/1.5 years wet lab physio/molecular bio research, strong PI LOR, no pubs or posters. Will project some future hours into the summer as well at the same lab.
Clinical: 650 hours spread pretty evenly over 3 different medical assistant jobs in 3 diff specialties over about 2 years, entered in as 3 separate activities.
Non-clinical volunteering: 280 hours total split among 3 different orgs: church volunteering (80 hrs), ESL TAing/tutoring refugee women (110 hours total split between TAing and tutoring), local homeless org shelter leader (redesigned intake sheet to be trauma-informed, created trainings, etc) and welcome volunteer during the winter shelter season (90 hours split between leadership role and shelter role working directly with guests)
Non-clinical work experience: 1030 hours my first 2 years of college working customer service jobs (retail, food service)
Hobbies: weightlifting and snowboarding
Non-trad who took most of my pre-reqs post bacc, CA ORM female
Struggling to make an OOS school list. I know I can't be too picky with that MCAT and I'm honestly pretty sad to see that score, but it seems silly to retake and postpone my app cycle a year (right? right?)
The start of my school list:
UCSF
UCLA
Stanford
Kaiser
UCSD
UC Davis
USC Keck
UC Irvine
Emory
Duke
Mayo
Ohio State
U Vermont??
Dartmouth?
Hofstra maybe?
How do I not shoot myself in the foot? Really unsure where realistic target OOS schools are. Appreciate any help.

2nd Corinthians   Chapter Twelve  

Visions and revelations
[verses 1-10]  

...
-2. I am acquainted with [מכיר, MahKeeYR] a man in Anointed, that, before fourteen years, was taken [נלקח, NeeLQahH] unto the firmament [הרקיע, HahRahQeeY`ah] the third;
I do not [אנני, ’ahNehNeeY] know if in his body or from out to his body; the Gods knows.  

“As verse seven shows, Paul was the ‘man in Christ’ … because they are not his own achievement, he chooses to refer to them in this indirect way … since ancient Jewish writings varied the number of heavens pictured (three and seven were the most usual suggestions, we cannot be sure; it generally means the place of the blessed, or the state of separate spirits.” (Adam Clarke, 1831, VI p. 352)  
“The Jews talk of seven heavens: and Mohammed has received the same from them; but these are not only fabulous but absurd. I shall enumerate those of the Jews. 1. The velum or curtain, וילון [VeeYLON], ‘which in the morning is folded up; and in the evening stretched out.’ Isai. [Isaiah] xi.22 ‘He stretched out the heavens as a curtain, and spreadeth them out as a tent to dwell in. 2. The firmament, or expanse, רקיע [RahQeeYah*], ‘in which the sun, moon, stars and constellations are fixed.’ Gen. [Genesis] 1:17 ‘And God placed them in the firmament of heaven. 3. The clouds, or ether, שחקים [*ShahHahQeeYM*], ‘where the millstones are which grind the manna for the righteous,’ Psal. [Psalm] lxxviii.23, ‘though he had commanded the clouds from above, and opened the doors of heaven; and had rained down manna.’ 5. The dwelling place, מעון [*MahON], ‘where the troops of angels sing throughout the night, but are silent in the day time, because of the glory of the Israelites’ … 6. The fixed residence, מכון [MahKhON], ‘where are the treasures of snow and hail; the repository of noxious dews, of drops and whirlwind; the grotto of exhalations’ … 7. The Araboth, ערבות, ['ahRahBOTh], ‘where are justice, judgment, mercy, the treasures of life; peace and blessedness; the souls of the righteous which are reserved for the bodies yet to formed; and the dew by which God is to vivify the dead … Psal. lxvii.4 “Extol him who riddeth on the heavens בערבות ba-araboth, by his name Jah.  
All this is sufficiently unphilosophical and in several cases ridiculous.  
In the Sacred Writings, three heavens only are mentioned, the first is the atmosphere, what appears to be intended by רקיע rakia, the firmament or expansion, Gen. 1.6. The second is the starry heaven; where are the sun, moon, planets, and stars, but these two are often expressed in the one term שמים [ShahMahYeeM, “skies”] shamayim, the two heavens, or expansion; and in Gen. 1.17 they appear to be both expressed by רקיע השמים, rakia hashamayim, the firmament of heaven. And, thirdly, the place of the blessed, or the throne of the divine glory probably expressed by the words שמים השמים shamayim hashamayim; the heaven of heavens.  
Much more may be seen in Schoetgen, who has exhausted the subject; and who has shown that ascending to heaven, or being caught up to heaven, is a form of speech among the Jewish writers, to express the highest degree of inspiration.” (Adam Clarke, 1831, VI pp. 351-352)  

-3. I know a man like this - I do not know if in his body or from out to his body, God knows - 4. that was taken unto Garden of ’ayDehN [“Lord”, Eden],  

“The Jewish writers have no less than four paradises: as they have seven heavens … The Mohammedans call it جنت الفردوس jennet alferdos, the garden of paradise: and say that God created it out of light, and that it is the habitation of the prophets and wise men.  
Among Christian writers, it generally means the place of the blessed; or the state of separate spirits. Whether the third heaven and paradise be the same place we cannot absolutely say; they probably are not.” (Adam Clarke, 1831) VI p. 352  

and heard words [מילים, MeeLeeYM] that are not to be spoken [לבטאן, LeBahT’ahN], that are forbidden to ’ahDahM to word [למללן, LeMahLeLahN].  

“The Jews thought, that the divine name, the Tetragrammaton יהוה Yehovah, should not be uttered; and that it is absolutely unlawful to pronounce it; indeed they say that the true pronunciation is utterly lost, and cannot be recovered without express revelation. Not one of them, to the present day, ever attempts to utter it; and when they meet with it in their reading, always supply its place with אדני [’ahDoNah-eeY, “My Lords”] Adonai, Lord.” ((Adam Clarke, 1831, VI p. 352)  

...
-7. And in order [וכדי, OoKheDaY] that I not be lifted [אתנשא, ’ehThNahSay’] because of [בגלל, BeeGLahL] the revelations the ascending, was given to me a thorn [קוץ, QOTs] in my flesh – a messenger of the Adversary [Satan] – to smite me [להכותני, LeHahKOThayNeeY], in order that I not be lifted.  

“What must he have suffered on account of an eminent Church being perverted and torn to pieces by a false teacher?” … Satan, the adversary of God’s truth, sent a man to preach lies … and turn the Church of God into his own synagogue.” (Adam Clarke, 1831, VI p. 353)  

-8. Upon that I implored [התחננתי, HeeThHahNahNTheeY] three times unto the Lord to remove him [להסירו, LahHahÇeeYRO] from me.  

“‘I besought the Lord’ That is, Christ, as the next verse absolutely proves: and the Socinians^v themselves confess. And if Christ be an object of prayer, in it is a sure proof of his divinity; for only an omniscient being can be made an object of prayer. (Adam Clarke, 1831, VI p. 353)  

...  

…………………………………………………  
Worry of the sent-forth [Apostle] to Corinthians [verses 11 to end of chapter]  

…
-12. Lo, signs of the acquaintance of the sent-forth were done in your midst [בקרבכם, BeQeeRBeKhehM], in his full [במלוא, BeeMeLo’] forbearance, in signs, and in wonders [ובמופתים, OoBeMOPhTheeYM], and braveries.  

“The study of the N.T. [New Testament] miracles may best begin with this passage, Rom. [Romans] 15:19, and Gal. [Galatians] 3:5. Writing to churches that would have challenged him had he falsified the facts, Paul refers unhesitatingly, to such miracles; he knows that even his enemies cannot deny their occurrence … Moreover this verse implies clearly that other true apostles were doing similar mighty works.” (Filson, 1953, X. 411)  

...
-15. And I in happiness give also [את, ’ehTh (indicator of direct object; no English equivalent)] what that have to me, and also [את, ’ehTh] myself to sake of your souls.
If I love you in measure [במידה, BeMeeYDaH] more [יתרה, YeThayRaH] will you love me in measure less [פחותה, PeHOoThaH]?”  

“If I be asked, ‘Should Christian parents lay up money for their children?’ I answer – It is the duty of every parent, who can, to lay up what is necessary to put every child in a condition to earn its bread. If he neglect this, he undoubtedly sins against God and nature. ‘But should not a man lay up besides this, a fortune for his children, if he can honestly?’ I answer, Yes, if there be no poor within his reach: no good work which he can assist; no heathen region on the earth to which he can contribute to send the Gospel of Jesus; but not otherwise. God shows, in the course of his providence, that this laying up of fortunes for children is not right; for there is scarcely ever a case where money has been saved up to make the children independent, and gentlemen, in which God has not cursed the blessing. It was saved from the poor; from the ignorant; from the cause of God; and the canker of his displeasure consumed this ill saved property.” (Adam Clarke, 1831, VI p. 355)  
“From St. Paul we receive two remarkable sayings of our Lord, which are of infinite value to the welfare and salvation of man; which are properly parts of the Gospel but are not mentioned by any evangelist… The first is in Acts xx.25 ‘I have showed you the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, “it is more blessed to give than to receive”’… the second is recorded in the ninth verse of this chapter, ‘He said unto me, “My grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength is made perfect in weakness.”’… of these two most blessed sayings, St. Paul is the only evangelist.” (Adam Clarke, 1831, p. 356)

...   FOOTNOTES   [v] Socinianism is a form of Antitrinitarianism, named for Laelius Socinus (died 1562 in Zürich) … one of the founders of a religious society that had to operate secretly in order to avoid persecution. In 1574 the Socinians, who referred to themselves as Unitarians, issued a "Catechism of the Unitarians," in which they laid out their views of the nature and perfection of the Godhead, as well as other principles of their group.  
The group became more widely known in Poland and began to prosper, opening colleges and publishing literature, until 1638, when the Socinians were banished from Poland by the Catholics.  
Socinians held views rooted in rationality only and rejected orthodox teachings on the Trinity and on the divinity of Jesus, as summarised in the Racovian Catechism. They also believed that God's omniscience was limited to what was a necessary truth in the future (what would definitely happen), and did not apply to what was a contingent truth (what might happen). They believed that, if God knew every possible future, human free will was impossible; and as such rejected the "hard" view of omniscience. They are to be differentiated from Arians, who believed in a preexistent Christ. The Socinians held that the Son of God did not exist until he was born a man.  
The Socinians congregated especially in Transylvania, in Poland …and in the Netherlands. They were driven from their seat at Raków in 1643.  
Socinianism is considered to be an antecedent or early form of Unitarianism and the term is still used today to refer to the belief that Jesus did not preexist his life as a human.  
Note: In Christianity, Socinianism is also called Psilanthropism, the presumed etymology of "psilanthropism" stems from the Greek psilo (merely, only) and anthropos (man, human being).  
Psilanthropism was rejected by the ecumenical councils, especially in the First Council of Nicaea, which was convened to deal directly with this. Beliefs similar to those of Socinianism continue today in Christian groups such as the Christadelphians and the Church of the Blessed Hope.  
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
  An Amateur's Journey Through the Bible

Hi all,
I wanted to share because I've been a member of this sub for a while and finally reached a point where I'm proud of myself.
For context, I grew up pretty poor. We relied on the salvation army donations for Christmas presents and food for holidays, lived in a trailer park for a while, food stamps, free lunches, etc. It didn't help my stepdad had a gambling addiction and what little we could have, ended up being pawned. Our neighborhood was rough (drugs, a couple of murders, a man breaking into girls bedrooms at night) and I was always afraid.
I ended up dropping out of high school due to an abusive home life but really wanted to go to college. My parents couldn't afford it and my stepdad was set on my becoming an unwed mother who would be a drug addict so he thought spending money on my education was a waste. Thankfully someone in my church helped by giving me 5k and between Pell grants and astronomical loans, I was admitted.
I graduated and ended up not going into the field I studied. I moved out, worked two jobs 65-70 hours a week and slept on a blanket on the floor of my apartment. I had no bed, no food (thank God for the dollar menu at taco bell and McDonald's), but I had a roof over my head and a semi reliable car.
I ended up in an abusive relationship and cancelled my lease putting me in debt and skipping meals to pay for it. I couch hopped for several years, getting an entry level job at a bank and keeping only what I could fit in my car.
I continued in the same field, taking various positions and finally ended up in the making $19 an hour. Huge money for me and allowed me to actual go to grocery stores and buy clothes that weren't second hand. I worked my ass off, going to work during the day and staying up all night studying- first my bachelors then my MBA, various licenses and certificates. For the first time in my life,companies were reaching out to ME, asking me to apply and following up when I would withdraw my applications. At one point this year, I had three different offers. I ended up working it out and landed over $60/hr with a great company and a manager I adore.
I still can't believe how life turned out and I try to remember daily where I came from. To have a car that doesn't overheat and have to blast the heat in the summer, to have a bed to sleep on that wasn't once on the side of the road, to wear shoes that aren't broken. I finally feel safe, financially sure but physically, in a home that has locks that work, there are no gun shots at night. I can eat fresh fruit and veggies- something I never had growing up.
I'm keeping the mindset of poverty though. I don't want lifestyle creep. I don't get rid of things until they're broken, I tend to be cheap and my hsa, 401k, and savings receive the bulk of my excess funds.
Tl;dr- I grew up poor being told I'd amount to nothing, dropped out of high school, slept on a blanket in an empty apartment and now make 6 figures.

WEIRD: Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, Democratic -- an anachronism when you consider the whole of human history.
The latest episode of the Ezra Klein Show, "If You're Reading This, You're Probably WEIRD: The Anthropologist Joseph Henrich parses how culture shapes our psyches", has a lot of interesting stuff to think about for this audience.
From the link:

We discuss Henrich’s theory of how “cultural evolution” leads to psychological — even genetic — changes in humans, the difference between societies that experience shame as a dominant emotion as opposed to guilt, the unique power of religion in driving cultural change, how cultural inventions like reading have literally reshaped human biology, why religious communes tend to outlast secular ones, why Henrich believes there is no static human nature aside from our cultural learning abilities, how differences in moral psychology across the United States could predict Donald Trump’s 2016 and 2020 vote share, why higher levels of immigration tend to lead to far more innovation and more.

There's more than I can go into from this show, but I found it fascinating from a Mormon perspective.
Some random points:

• Joseph Henrich proposes that through centuries of evolving policies, Catholicism gradually encouraged the creation of nuclear, isolated families, with the demise of the wider kinship culture, through the enforcement of "incest taboos", that grew from banning marriages between first cousins, to eventually covering up to 6th cousins, which had a significant impact on society. Finances, inheritance, property--everything changed with this.
• Mormonism gets a shout out for outlasting so many other communities because it had strong rituals, that eventually led to Utah having one of the most pro-social communities in the United States.

Some more thoughts I had after listening...

• The whole discussion of kinship cultures vs. nuclear family culture was very interesting and relevant to today's society, and Mormonism in particular. Polygamy and general inter-marrying of LDS leadership, from the very beginning through to today's power families, play large roles in maintaining a powerful sense of identity and culture. (Mormon polygamy wasn't mentioned in the show, but other cultures' versions of it were.)
• Ironically, the church's shift and laser-like focus on monogamy and the nuclear family in the mid-20th century is sowing the seeds of its own demise. By isolating families into discrete groups with their own goals, there is less need, every passing year, to strengthen the wider community.
• Not all of this is the church's "fault"--there are wider cultural forces at play, of course. But I think the impacts will be more severe and visible in the church just because of the extremes in culture that it has existed in.

[June 2013]
Devon and I walked hand in hand into a large, beautifully decorated country style wedding venue. My mom greeted us at the door, and her awkward meter was reading off the charts. Her husband, Alan was standing with her offering his obligatory handshake to Devon. Mom could sense the tension, but she already had the conversation with me that I would need to be the one to take the high road should anything happen. Instead of ever calling out her husband on his garbage personality, she expected me, the daughter, to de-escalate any rising anger levels.
I kept that interaction as short and sweet as possible before guiding Devon in the direction of the bride and groom. I whispered "I'm sorry." to him as we were walking across the venue. He said "Don't worry about it, all is good."
Boy, you know my whole role in life is to, in fact, "worry about it", but it was relieving to know that Devon wasn't nearly as uneasy as I was.
We congratulated Tyler and his new wife, and then apologized for having missed the wedding. He responded with the classic, "No worries, just glad you were able to make it/It's nice to meet you, Devon." More people began to crowd around the newlyweds, so I took Devon to meet Nana.
That poor old woman has no personality whatsoever; unless you consider religion and politics a "personality". She's the worst. That lady never had to work a single day in her life. Her father owned a bank, and half of a small city in her hometown was named after her family. She married my grandfather who paid for their house in full with his blood, sweat, tears, and whiskey addiction. Then she sold the house she won in the divorce. Every future house she dwelled in, alone, was paid for in full with the cold hard cash earnings from the previous house. I digress.
Nana had a comically large open-mouth smile when I walked Devon up to her table. She stood and said "This must be the Daryl I've heard so much about." First of all, Nana, you've hardly heard shit about him because you always cut phone calls short after you've finished discussing your ground breaking salon visits or church sermons. Secondly, it's "Devon".
"It's so nice to finally get to meet you, Daniel. I wondered why Heather was hiding you." followed by the other 30 cliché, small talk, oxygen wasting sentences people say when they have nothing of value to say. Each sentence began with a new way to address him by a different wrong name. "Kevin, I hear you're from Texas. How's the weather there?"
I turned away, took a deep breath, and involuntarily rolled my eyes so far back that I made eye contact with the little guy who operates my brain. Dude, she doesn't keep slipping on his name because she's old; she just genuinely, absolutely does not listen to what other people say. She's always too focused on the next worthless thing she has to say. She passed this trait onto my mother as well.
We stayed long enough to eat and have a good visit with my uncle Mike. I was right. He and Devon really did hit it off well, and that portion of the trip was rather pleasant.
Unfortunately, we were well outside of the approved distance radius from base without being on proper leave, and we needed to book it back home soon. We commenced the obligatory hugs and said our goodbyes before dipping the fuck out of there.

So there’s this M (19) guy that I F(20) casually see at my church community . (My church community alias is ✝️, this info will be important later in the story) The thing is I didn’t know he existed until he added me on my social media 🤣. When he added me I realised I’ve only seen his sister around, never knew he was in 🇺🇸 too. He added me and started liking all my instagram stories,and started to greet me online which I was hesitant on replying… Anyhow I left him on seen.
He always does this ngl link thingy and gets private messages on there. This was the first time I’ve seen him post these stuff on his story. There was this one particular message that said “✝️ is the one 🤣” in my language. And he replied “wowww 😂”. I read it and was confused as to why my church was mentioned 👀. And it ate me inside, thinking what was the reason
The following weekend I saw him again, but face to face. I expected him to not talk to me, coz I’m use to guys texting online, but not talk in real life even though we see each other 👀🤣. Anyhow, after the function he came up to me and my sisters and introduced himself and his cousin.
We all started interacting and getting to know each other. He mentioned that he had come to my church as a visitor with all his cousins. I never saw any of their faces as they were behind me, but I knew there was “new” visitors from another church. I was wondering how he found my Insta since it’s low key. Anyways, It was a chill conversation, then it ended and we departed.
The next day he texts me online saying “Hi”. And it ended there online again 🤣. He does the ngl link thing and gets more messages which he then posts in his story. One of the posts asked “Do you like anyone right now” and he replied “Yes, I do but I don’t know if she likes me too”. Another question then asked “Who do you like?”. He replies with another girls @… But the thing is he has FaceTimed with her before and posted it on his story (they may be close friends idk). Is that meant to be a joke? Or am I tripping 🤣
I start overthinking to myself maybe he likes me maybe he doesn’t. Moving on, I haven’t seen him for a few weeks now (he still likes my instagram stories). Then it’s the Super Bowl game eagles vs chief’s. My sister goes for chiefs, and posted it on her story
Mind you he also follows my sister. He replied to her story asking who she goes for, and want to bet on who wins. She says chief’s, and can’t bet anything 🤣 Then he replied “if eagles win you have to give your sister to me 😜”. She replied “Oh no” And he then replied “Oh please” then with jks at the end…
Like why would that be the bet? 👀🤣🤣 Someone please explain this situation. I’m really confused, if that means he likes me or not? Or maybe I’m overthinking, I don’t want to talk to him about it obviously.. But this is basically the run down on this guy 🤣

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aww

• HalfpintLannister

[OC] Her expression after waking up from dental surgery is meme-worthy
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• Ill-SnatchYourSoul

A spy otter captures a natural habitat of a cute otter.
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• Hit_Daquan

Cutie (OC)
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So there’s this M (19) guy that I F(20) casually see at my church community . (My church community alias is ✝️, this info will be important later in the story) The thing is I didn’t know he existed until he added me on my social media 🤣. When he added me I realised I’ve only seen his sister around, never knew he was in 🇺🇸 too. He added me and started liking all my instagram stories,and started to greet me online which I was hesitant on replying… Anyhow I left him on seen.
He always does this ngl link thingy and gets private messages on there. This was the first time I’ve seen him post these stuff on his story. There was this one particular message that said “✝️ is the one 🤣” in my language. And he replied “wowww 😂”. I read it and was confused as to why my church was mentioned 👀. And it ate me inside, thinking what was the reason
The following weekend I saw him again, but face to face. I expected him to not talk to me, coz I’m use to guys texting online, but not talk in real life even though we see each other 👀🤣. Anyhow, after the function he came up to me and my sisters and introduced himself and his cousin.
We all started interacting and getting to know each other. He mentioned that he had come to my church as a visitor with all his cousins. I never saw any of their faces as they were behind me, but I knew there was “new” visitors from another church. I was wondering how he found my Insta since it’s low key. Anyways, It was a chill conversation, then it ended and we departed.
The next day he texts me online saying “Hi”. And it ended there online again 🤣. He does the ngl link thing and gets more messages which he then posts in his story. One of the posts asked “Do you like anyone right now” and he replied “Yes, I do but I don’t know if she likes me too”. Another question then asked “Who do you like?”. He replies with another girls @… But the thing is he has FaceTimed with her before and posted it on his story (they may be close friends idk). Is that meant to be a joke? Or am I tripping 🤣
I start overthinking to myself maybe he likes me maybe he doesn’t. Moving on, I haven’t seen him for a few weeks now (he still likes my instagram stories). Then it’s the Super Bowl game eagles vs chief’s. My sister goes for chiefs, and posted it on her story
Mind you he also follows my sister. He replied to her story asking who she goes for, and want to bet on who wins. She says chief’s, and can’t bet anything 🤣 Then he replied “if eagles win you have to give your sister to me 😜”. She replied “Oh no” And he then replied “Oh please” then with jks at the end…
Like why would that be the bet? 👀🤣🤣 Someone please explain this situation. I’m really confused, if that means he likes me or not? Or maybe I’m overthinking, I don’t want to talk to him about it obviously.. But this is basically the run down on this guy 🤣

This is a long story so buckle up. I've always had a bad relationship with my mother. I'm her youngest child she had on accident when she was 41. (I'm 22 now) my siblings are both 30. She's always treated them so well. She'd never out right say she didn't love me but she'd always say "I have 2 kids I love so much" "my 2 kids are everything to me" and stuff like that. After my older siblings moved out (I was 12 at the time) my dad left her after enduring her abuse for 20 years... but he didn't take me with him. Which may have been for the best as my mom had convinced me he was an addict and I was scared of him. My mom would sit in her room and scream for hours on end calling him every name in the book. It was super scary to see because she wasn't talking to anyone. I'd just be in my room and hear her screaming like she was dying for HOURS everyday when I came home from school.
Soon this escalated to her hitting me everyday and then telling people I would hit her? She'd scratch her arms and say I did it in a rage when even when she was hitting me I never hit her I'd usually just take it until she'd start choking me and then I'd push her away because I didn't want to die. She's broken 3 of my toes pretty badly from stepping on them on with all her body weight and when I cried she laughed and said I deserved it. Cps showed up twice and ultimately made things worse as when they left she'd freak out at me and call me a liar and say im "evil and not of Jesus christ" my moms a mormon but she really doesn't practice very religiously. We only went to church sometimes so I never took it super seriously but she'd act like we were a super Christian godly household.
She would take me to so many therapists and psychiatrists saying that there was something wrong with me. The psychiatrists were very prescription happy. But the therapists always tell me when I was alone with them that my mom was seriously mentally ill. When they'd try and have her work on herself too she'd rage quit therapy and go find another one. Last time I talked to her she was telling me about how hard it is having a mentally ill child "I've spent so much money on therapy and pills for you! My other children didn't need any of that!"
I ended up going to live with my dad when I was 14-16 but my step mother took issue with me. To this day im unsure why. I was always nice to her and helped around the house, did well in school. She was constantly mean. So they sent me back to live with my mom and the cycle of abuse with her started again.
I got through my senior year and she kicked me out without notice on my 18th birthday. I was going to move out once school was out but she demanded I left sooner. So I did. I had to live in my car with everything i owned for a week before I found an apartment. She told everyone that she kicked me out because I hit her and threw a book at her face and that just didn't happen. I did throw a book but it wasn't at her or anywhere near her.
Shortly after my senior year I ended up getting pregnant. Really stupid move on my part. I still feel guilty and it's been 3 years. I tried my best to keep my birth son but i was homeless and working 10 hour days at 7 months pregnant. So I ended up asking a nice infertile couple who I knew were looking to adopt if they would adopt my boy. They did and they have been amazing. At first my mom was like "oh my daughters so great she chose life" and all that BS. (I'm not pro life. Just her) The adoption is open so we both get to see him sometimes and she's kind of like an extra grandma to him and I'm like an aunt maybe? But it eventually turned to her shaming me for being an unfit mother. Calling me fat because of baby weight. Shaming me for getting pregnant by a guy who hit me. (He didn't start till after I was pregnant)
It's gotten to the point where she legitimately tries to make me jealous by going on about how she's my birth sons favorite person. I've never seen them together and if that was the case I wouldn't care but her trying to use my baby as a pawn weirds me out so much. He's only 2! She also didn't see him for months because she told his adoptive parents "you guys seem stressed Maybe you should give him to someone better fit to parent" when the adoptive mom was struggling a bit caring for a new born because it's so hard!
She's taking my siblings to Italy this summer for a big trip and told them that she can't take me because I'm mentally ill. I told her very respectfully that I was very hurt I felt like the "redheaded step child" to which she just said I was a spoiled brat and she doesn't owe me anything and that it's my own fault I'm "miserable" and that ill never heal unless i got on medication again and stop blaming her etc. She has them over every weekend to do stuff and not me.
For the most part I'm no contact with her. I still am around my siblings. They have helped me immensely and I love them. But I just am so lost on how to handle my mom. My son's birthday is on the 3rd and she's gonna be there. I'm so nervous. She makes me physically ill to be around. She's accused me of hitting her even as an adult and runs around like she's a victim of abuse. She tells people that I hit her and her stories don't line up at all and are so blatantly fake and then says the stories I've told of my childhood are made up in my mind because I'm mentally ill and that I abused her from the ages of 10 and up. Even sometimes tries to shame me for temper tantrums I had in my terrible 2's.
Idk whats wrong with her. She's been diagnosed with autism and depression but that's it.

I'm on the other side of my surgery, and all things considered, I'm doing fine!
Context: freshly 30/F, and relatively active (try to walk at least 30 min/day, and salsa dancing 1-2x a week anywhere from 2-4hrs a dance, depending on the event).
At the beginning of this year I found myself having these horrible stomach pains 2-3x a week. Felt like i was being stabbed in my stomach for 2-3 hours straight, followed by a dull pain that lasted another 3 hours. Was misdiagnosed as an UTI infection when I went to walk-in clinic, took meds and thought that fixed it.
1 week later later in early Feb, I took myself to the ER because in the middle of the night, I was in shooting pain on my side for 5 hours an it wasn't getting better. One very expensive ER visit and a bunch of tests later, came up that I had some gallstones. Thankfully none moving, but the doctors recommended getting it taken out sooner than later.
I decided to play the waiting game because I had a birthday trip to Japan scheduled for end of April and I thought getting surgery beforehand, even a month out, wouldn't be the wisest move. So I scheduled it for May 30th (day after Memorial Day). In the meantime, tried to make lifestyle changes - getting more active and eating "better". Probably had 3-5 episodes until my surgery, which was much less frequent than before.
This was my first time getting surgery done. Like, ever. (Tbh I've been to more doctors visits in this past 5 months than all of my adulthood so far, and I try to make all of my yearly visits!) So there were a little bit of nerves coming into it. But my nurse and medical team were so helpful and assuring. Found myself cracking jokes on surgery day with them lol.
I knew that anesthesia would put you out pretty quick, but literally it felt like 30 seconds once they started it I was out like a light lol.
Woke up on the other side of it and overall felt fine! I didn't realize that they numb your stomach, so I tried touching my stomach and was confused when I didn't feel anything haha. Had some juice and crackers, and was sent on my way home. I found myself going in and out of sleep for the first 6 hrs post-surgery.
I bought my house 1.5yrs ago, and I'm so thankful the previous owner was an 87 year old woman who put grab bars EVERYWHERE in the bathroom because they are definitely getting their mileage right now. Lol. I've otherwise been in my guest room bed (on the first floor, next to the bathroom and kitchen) and it's been good.
When I was looking up what to eat post-op, I got a lot of mixed info. I was originally planning to do just liquids for the first few days and then slowly introduce solids. But I had crackers right after surgery and was OK. My surgeon basically told me to try to eat a little bit of what you ate before and see how your stomach responds.
I've also been snacking throughout the day - it was recommended to have more frequent, small meals throughout the day, even after "recovery". So I need to prep for that. I'm thankful people in my church are doing a meal train for me and making me food until next Friday, so I'm looking forward to some good grub.
I've been taking my cocktail of drugs, and my core muscles feel really tense, but all things considered I'm doing swell! The most strenuous thing I've done today is eatery my plants in the garden, so that I can get some light movement in (and fresh air). There's a lot I wanna do during this time of forced rest (read, finish sketches, post pictures from my Japan trip), but also wanna make sure that I actually rest and don't strain myself unnecessarily.
I might update in the comments day-by-day just for a personal record to refer back to. So thank you for reading my long post heh.

So there’s this M(19)guy that I F (20) casually see at my church community . (My church community alias is ✝️, this info will be important later in the story) The thing is I didn’t know he existed until he added me on my social media 🤣. When he added me I realised I’ve only seen his sister around, never knew he was in 🇺🇸 too. He added me and started liking all my instagram stories,and started to greet me online which I was hesitant on replying… Anyhow I left him on seen.
He always does this ngl link thingy and gets private messages on there. This was the first time I’ve seen him post these stuff on his story. There was this one particular message that said “✝️ is the one 🤣” in my language. And he replied “wowww 😂”. I read it and was confused as to why my church was mentioned 👀. And it ate me inside, thinking what was the reason
The following weekend I saw him again, but face to face. I expected him to not talk to me, coz I’m use to guys texting online, but not talk in real life even though we see each other 👀🤣. Anyhow, after the function he came up to me and my sisters and introduced himself and his cousin.
We all started interacting and getting to know each other. He mentioned that he had come to my church as a visitor with all his cousins. I never saw any of their faces as they were behind me, but I knew there was “new” visitors from another church. I was wondering how he found my Insta since it’s low key. Anyways, It was a chill conversation, then it ended and we departed.
The next day he texts me online saying “Hi”. And it ended there online again 🤣. He does the ngl link thing and gets more messages which he then posts in his story. One of the posts asked “Do you like anyone right now” and he replied “Yes, I do but I don’t know if she likes me too”. Another question then asked “Who do you like?”. He replies with another girls @… But the thing is he has FaceTimed with her before and posted it on his story (they may be close friends idk). Is that meant to be a joke? Or am I tripping 🤣
I start overthinking to myself maybe he likes me maybe he doesn’t. Moving on, I haven’t seen him for a few weeks now (he still likes my instagram stories). Then it’s the Super Bowl game eagles vs chief’s. My sister goes for chiefs, and posted it on her story
Mind you he also follows my sister. He replied to her story asking who she goes for, and want to bet on who wins. She says chief’s, and can’t bet anything 🤣 Then he replied “if eagles win you have to give your sister to me 😜”. She replied “Oh no” And he then replied “Oh please” then with jks at the end…
Like why would that be the bet? 👀🤣🤣 Someone please explain this situation. I’m really confused, if that means he likes me or not? Or maybe I’m overthinking, I don’t want to talk to him about it obviously.. But this is basically the run down on this guy 🤣

In the Beginning Was the Word
As Christians, we’ve often heard Santa is an anagram for Satan. But God has shown me another anagram, and it’s been destroying the “body of Christ” that is the church.
Denominations – Dominant Noise
Denominations are the spiritual equivalent to dissecting the body of Christ. Denominations cherry-pick from the Word of God. Jesus is the Word (John 1:1) so how dare we take a scalpel to our Savior… There are entire denominations out there that ban the Holy Spirit from their masses. This is a disgusting, depressing thought to me.
We can’t worship God in spirit and in truth if we deny His Spirit. We can fool ourselves, and other people too. But God is no fool, and he examines our very hearts. There is nothing He does not know about us. So, I’d like to point out some scriptures I felt led to share.
For as the body is one and has many members, but all the members of that one body, being many, are one body, so also is Christ. For by one Spirit we were all baptized into one body—whether Jews or Greeks, whether slaves or free—and have all been made to drink into one Spirit. For in fact the body is not one member but many.
If the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I am not of the body,” is it therefore not of the body? And if the ear should say, “Because I am not an eye, I am not of the body,” is it therefore not of the body? If the whole body were an eye, where would be the hearing? If the whole were hearing, where would be the smelling? But now God has set the members, each one of them, in the body just as He pleased. And if they were all one member, where would the body be?
But now indeed there are many members, yet one body. And the eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no need of you”; nor again the head to the feet, “I have no need of you.” No, much rather, those members of the body which seem to be weaker are necessary. And those members of the body which we think to be less honorable, on these we bestow greater honor; and our unpresentable parts have greater modesty, but our presentable parts have no need. But God composed the body, having given greater honor to that part which lacks it, that there should be no schism in the body, but that the members should have the same care for one another. And if one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; or if one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it.
Now you are the body of Christ, and members individually. And God has appointed these in the church: first apostles, second prophets, third teachers, after that miracles, then gifts of healings, helps, administrations, varieties of tongues. – 1 Corinthians 12:12-28
“But the hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth; for the Father is seeking such to worship Him. God is Spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth.” – Jesus Christ, recorded in John 4:23-24

I [34F] am finally almost over the bad relationship I had twelve years ago, and have been having a lot of memories brought up lately. Thought I'd share the story and some hope.
First, let me impress upon you that my sweet cinnamon roll of a 22 year old self was an absolute idiot when it came to dating. I didn't get hit with the sexual attraction hormone roller coaster experience till I was around 20, which is LATE, and before that point I had paid approximately zero attention to how relationships were supposed to go.
So when I got out of school and started going out with this guy who was well known and liked at my childhood church, I figured I was in pretty safe territory. And boy I figured wrong!
Not that this guy did anything untoward physically or anything 'overtly' bad-- everything was mind games and plausible deniability. He 'joked' about my hair being shorter than his, and 'wondered' about whether there was something wrong with girls who didn't mind being mistaken for boys. He had a nine month timeline for getting married, but oh no, nothing was set in stone! So it was fine!
He'd take work calls when we were out together, and during a bad storm when I called him up because my power was out and I was lonely, hung up after a few minutes to conserve his battery in case work called.
Another time, he asked what I liked about him, and I went for his nice smile. He also played the piano like a dream. He came back with 'your lips', and would casually mention how he found my physical flexibility (I did martial arts for a while) 'innately pleasing'. He asked what I would do if he decided he should always drive, and I shouldn't be allowed to drive if the two of us were in the car. If I would be into bondage (hard no) and if I would mind if he thought of me as an object during sex (we didn't have sex-- this was just a disturbing hypothetical I guess). All of this didn't happen at once-- there was a lot of relatively normal stuff between it, and my shy, inexperienced past self did her level best to draw reasonable boundaries and not overreact. (Definitely underreacted tbh)
Anyway, I broke things off after about three and a half months, lost almost all of my post college friends (because they were his friends first), my church, and a chunk of my connection with my own mom (the guy got along with her better than he did with me, or at least he put effort into it) and proceeded to feel sick at the mention of any type of romantic relationship afterwards for years. People said a little time would help, but more and more of it went by, and I didn't clock back to normal. I had bad dreams about the guy for two years, made three or four different attempts to go to therapy (one place called the guy in for our final meeting and didn't warn me in advance. One told me 'how about focus on having just friends for a while?' after ten sessions or something, which was a good call but a bit pricey for the advice.) I couldn't bring myself to bring up any of the quite frankly disturbing stuff this guy had said/asked because he was so well liked, it made me just sound crazy.
In spite of my late awakening, I honestly always pictured myself eventually settling down and starting a family. So after a few years, when I didn't get active flashbacks of this guy when I got in my car, I tried dating again. I'd go out with a nice guy, be too anxious to tell anyone about it, and break it off after a couple months. Eventually I went out with a guy and told him about some of this stuff, but my anxiety still ramped up afterwards and I broke things off (and he implied I might be a lesbian to boot. I won't deny the man his parting shot, but it wasn't my favorite given this whole backstory). My couple remaining/newly acquired friends suggested I might be asexual, since I hated romance so much (on the contrary, I was simply deeply traumatized). For years, it's felt like if anyone knows that I'm going out with someone, I'll be at risk of losing all my friends again, and everyone thinking I'm nuts.
I'd try again, I'd take a break-- gradually (very gradually) things got better. I could read stories with romance in them and they could be fun. I could watch movies and not be suspicious of the male love interests' intentions haha
Finally, this past year, I went out with a guy and told people about it, and it was fine. I introduced him to my parents and siblings. No one thought I was stupid, and when I broke up with him (because we wound up not having much chemistry and our senses of humor didn't really jive-- nothing awful, just not a good fit, very mild breakup), nothing bad happened. It was a huge step, and I feel like finally things are turning around.
Honestly, maybe I'll find someone, maybe not, but that first experience was a really bad one off, and as per my correct therapist, having good friends has made a huge difference. I don't feel a pit of hopeless dread on behalf of acquaintances who announce they're getting married (I used to) and I don't feel like saying 'I'm sorry' when people talk about how they're going out with a new guy. When I was 22, I honestly felt like I could never stomach being in a relationship again, and that was tragic, because I wanted the good things I'd seen relationships bring folks. Looks like that feeling's in the rear view mirror now though. It's a new day. There are cute single guys in my friend group who I get along with and share hobbies with, and we're going to a lake house in the summer to spend a couple days. The possibilities are endless.
Anyway, all this to say, if you're going through it, there does in fact seem to be a 'through'. I had my doubts haha but here we are, and if you're having a rough time now, there's really not a set timeline for when you should feel better. (Hopefully it's a little shorter than mine-- I'm sitting at the far right end of the bell curve, I'm pretty sure!)
Tl;dr: had a bad formative relationship experience, but things are looking up. If you're in the 'bad' stage, get good friends and hang in there! You can do it!

So there’s this guy M(19) that I F (20) casually see at my church community . (My church community alias is ✝️, this info will be important later in the story) The thing is I didn’t know he existed until he added me on my social media 🤣. When he added me I realised I’ve only seen his sister around, never knew he was in 🇺🇸 too. He added me and started liking all my instagram stories,and started to greet me online which I was hesitant on replying… Anyhow I left him on seen.
He always does this ngl link thingy and gets private messages on there. This was the first time I’ve seen him post these stuff on his story. There was this one particular message that said “✝️ is the one 🤣” in my language. And he replied “wowww 😂”. I read it and was confused as to why my church was mentioned 👀. And it ate me inside, thinking what was the reason
The following weekend I saw him again, but face to face. I expected him to not talk to me, coz I’m use to guys texting online, but not talk in real life even though we see each other 👀🤣. Anyhow, after the function he came up to me and my sisters and introduced himself and his cousin.
We all started interacting and getting to know each other. He mentioned that he had come to my church as a visitor with all his cousins. I never saw any of their faces as they were behind me, but I knew there was “new” visitors from another church. I was wondering how he found my Insta since it’s low key. Anyways, It was a chill conversation, then it ended and we departed.
The next day he texts me online saying “Hi”. And it ended there online again 🤣. He does the ngl link thing and gets more messages which he then posts in his story. One of the posts asked “Do you like anyone right now” and he replied “Yes, I do but I don’t know if she likes me too”. Another question then asked “Who do you like?”. He replies with another girls @… But the thing is he has FaceTimed with her before and posted it on his story (they may be close friends idk). Is that meant to be a joke? Or am I tripping 🤣
I start overthinking to myself maybe he likes me maybe he doesn’t. Moving on, I haven’t seen him for a few weeks now (he still likes my instagram stories). Then it’s the Super Bowl game eagles vs chief’s. My sister goes for chiefs, and posted it on her story
Mind you he also follows my sister. He replied to her story asking who she goes for, and want to bet on who wins. She says chief’s, and can’t bet anything 🤣 Then he replied “if eagles win you have to give your sister to me 😜”. She replied “Oh no” And he then replied “Oh please” then with jks at the end…
Like why would that be the bet? 👀🤣🤣 Someone please explain this situation. I’m really confused, if that means he likes me or not? Or maybe I’m overthinking, I don’t want to talk to him about it obviously.. But this is basically the run down on this guy 🤣

Some would call it an introduction, but I feel Dayz doesn't do introductions. Its just a traumatic experience and you can never leave.
Mine was back in mod and my mate had been playing it for a little while already. He goes "you should try this game, its a kinda weird open world zombie game. Its cool, I like it, its multiplayer and I want someone to play with that I know and trust. I reckon you'll dig it." Ok sure whatever, lets not pay attention to "...& trust" and jump in. Him: "oh, well, its actually a mod for this other game called Arma but we'll sort that out" Me: 2 new games? fry_shutup.mem
We play, he teaches me how to not die or break my legs on everything. Its horrible and awesome. Go down some stairs? Thatsa broken leg. Attacked by a zombie? Broken leg. Enjoying the view? Oohh ya better believe thats a broken leg.
Anyway, we play for maybe a couple of hours, dodge a few players, start to get the hang of it, and we're sitting on the edge of a forest checking out a village somewhere. Its chill and fantastic and I'm having a great time with this orienteering simulator. In a blink we go from crouching in a quiet forest edge to standing in a group of players, in the middle of a circle of other players (heavily armed, I would soon learn), while being screamed at, in a graveyard. Not words yelled at us, just AAAAAAAAA at various pitches, it sounded like everyone was screaming. Maybe a whole second later the circle opened fire and killed everyone and it's quiet as suddenly as it wasn't. Exit to menu. Headphones off. I ask my mate what the fuck is wrong with this game and vow to never play it again until I've had a cig and changed my pants, maybe the brown ones for next time.
We worked out we were teleported literally across the map, the entire server were zooped to the church at Pavlovo, and massacred in the cemetery. We learned it was hackers. The only thing lost was a character, referee says play on and we've both played ever since. Him far more than me, but still I keep fucking coming back to this abusive relationship and I love every minute of it.
'Mark from Warehouse' is currently in a shed on the outskirts of Grabin, in the rain (ofc), on my first trip to Livonia. Buddy is way across the map somewhere.
The shenanigans we have had in this buggy mess makes a long stupid list. And Buzz is not allowed on roofs without having a crate for me to put his gear in when he.. you know. splat lol. And neither of us are allowed flares. Flares get us killed.
TLDR read it so I can bonk you on the head while you're distracted and take your beans.
So what was your first Dayz experience? That first special kind of trauma that is this game lol.

Hey! I address to this lovely community, making my first post ever on Reddit. (First, sorry for my bad English, I'm Spanish!) I'm a 20 year old bisexual woman. Was baptized as a baby and made Holy Communion at the age of 6, Roman Catholic Church. As I grew older I started feeling attracted to both men and women, and with the feeling that God would hate me, I tried to forget that I was a Christian. But I couldn't. And I still can't, even if sometimes I feel like I'm doing something wrong. What I want to ask today, is, in which Christian denomination is homosexuality more accepted? I have seen that maybe protestant churches lean more towards being kind towards LGBT people, and I truly wanna stay Christian, but in a denomination that accepts everyone. Even if I end up marrying a man and having a "straight" life, I can't just deny my feelings anymore. And I cannot be more proud of seeing you all trying to love God, even when people act like cowards towards love. Just love. Have a lovely day or night.

Not every town is on the map.
"Daddy, I gotta pee."
Dale Thornton looked over his shoulder at his six-year-old son belted into the back seat of their Jeep Cherokee. As the boy squirmed around, Dale looked at his wife in the passenger seat beside him. "Didn't he just go?"
Carol glanced at her watch. "That was over an hour ago." She twisted to look into the back seat. "Can you hold it?"
In the rearview mirror, Dale saw Jesse shake his head. His wife checked her watch again. He could almost see the wheels turning inside her head. She was the family mediator, and she had just come up with something that made perfect sense. One of the reasons he loved her so much was her ability to change gears. In himself, Dale recognized his single-mindedness as a drawback. He admired her flexibility. In more ways than one, he thought. She was a good wife and a good mother.
"It's almost five," Carol said. "Let's stop at the next town. We can all use the restroom and get something to eat."
Dale tugged the spiral-bound road atlas down from where he had wedged it between the visor and the roof. They had left Tulsa that morning, headed for Mardi Gras, and he hoped to be in New Orleans by 10 p.m. Looking at the LOUISIANA page, his eyes traced the route he had highlighted in yellow. They had detoured down old U.S. 167. Rural America was disappearing and Dale wanted his son to see something of it before it was completely gone.
They were somewhere south of Ruston. He couldn't remember if they had passed Jonesboro or not, so the next town was either that or--if they'd already passed it--Winnfield. The gas gauge was on a quarter of a tank. They needed to stop anyway. "All right, honey," he said. "We'll take a break."
Carol laid a hand on his leg. "I'm glad we came this way. You can't see anything from the Interstate."
Ten miles later they sprang upon a small town. There was an old-fashioned, carved wooden sign posted beside the highway. Dale read out loud, "Welcome to Batesville. Population 875."
"What's that mean," Jesse asked.
Dale glanced at his son in the rearview mirror. "That's how many people live here."
"When somebody dies, do they change the number on the sign?"
Carol smiled over her shoulder at Jesse. "I bet they change it when a baby is born."
Just like her. She didn't like to talk about death or dying. Instead, she liked to focus on the good things in life, babies, birthdays, and family vacations. She had always been like that but more so since her grandfather passed away last year. She had been very close to him, closer than she had ever been to her father.
Dale sneaked a glance at her. She was his angel but an angel with dark secrets. She had shared some of those secrets with him but not all of them, probably because she knew the abuse in her life disturbed him so much. "That sign probably hasn't been changed in twenty years," he said.
"Why put it up if it's not right?" Jesse asked.
Good question. "I don't know, son."
As they got into the little town, Dale was impressed. The side streets that cut off of the highway were lined with neat wooden houses, most of them with white picket fences. A lot of the little towns they had passed through looked run down and dirty, but not this one. Batesville was clean and pretty.
When they came to the town's only traffic light, Dale saw a business on each corner: a hotel, a gas station, a restaurant, and the Batesville General Store. Before the light turned green, Dale pulled the Jeep beside the pumps at the gas station. A middle-aged man wearing oil stained coveralls stepped out from the office. "What can I do you for?" he asked. His tone was friendly, something you didn't hear at many gas stations these days.
Dale stepped out of the driver's seat and stretched. "I need a fill-up and some food." Then he jerked his thumb toward the back seat. "And my son needs to use the head."
The man wiped his hands on a rag he pulled out of his pocket. Then he shook Dale's hand. "Dudley Simpson. I can help you with the gas and the bathroom for your boy, but as for food, afraid all I got is potato chips and sodas." He pointed to the restaurant across the street. "Right over there is the best food in town." He laughed. "Only restaurant we got, but I wouldn't kid you. It's really good. Restroom's not too bad either."
Jesse said he could hold it until they got to the restaurant, so Dale sent him and Carol across the street to get a table. When he reached for the gas pump, Dudley Simpson stopped him. "I don't charge extra for full service. Every car comes through here I pump the gas, look under the hood, and check the tires."
"Don't see that too much anymore," Dale said.
"Guess I'm kind of old-fashioned."
After Dudley finished, Dale added a couple of bucks to the bill. He felt a little awkward, unsure if he could tip the owner of a gas station without insulting him. But Dudley took no offense, just said thank you and asked him to stop in again on their way home.
When Dale turned the key, nothing happened. He turned it again and still nothing happened. Just a click. No dash lights, the motor didn't turn over, nothing. Dudley told him to pop the hood again. After Dale turned the key a couple more times with Simpson's head buried under the hood, Dudley said he'd found the problem. "Alternator's shot. You must've been running on battery for a good while."
"Can you fix it?"
The gas station owner looked at his watch. "Not today. Parts store is closed 'till tomorrow."
Great, just great, Dale thought.
"I could arrange a tow to somewhere else, next town down the highway has a Goodyear Service Center," Dudley said, "but even they won't get to it until tomorrow."
Dale nodded, his mind stuck on having to spend the night in Batesville instead of New Orleans.
"I'll get to it first thing," Dudley said. "Have you out of here by ten o'clock." He pointed at the hotel. "Mrs. Jensen has a nice place. A-C, cable TV, and no bugs."
Great. No bugs.
Dudley told Dale that he could leave the Jeep right where it was. No need to worry about it, he said. They had a town marshal but nothing ever happened in Batesville. So quiet the state police never even came by.
"Sorry I'm blocking your pumps," Dale said.
Dudley shrugged. "Other side's open." Then he looked at his watch. "Besides, it's five-thirty. I close in half an hour."
As he crossed the street, Dale remembered his gun. A Smith and Wesson .357 revolver that he always brought with him on road trips. You never knew what could happen. They might break down on the highway and get attacked by a drug-crazed motorcycle gang. The gun was in the cargo compartment, wrapped inside a cloth and tucked between the spare tire and the side wall. It would be safe enough.
At the restaurant he told Carol the news and in typical Carol fashion she looked on the bright side. "It'll be fun being stranded in a small town," she said. "Who knows what'll happen?"
"Do they have TV?" Jesse asked.
A cute young waitress served them. The plastic tag pinned to her blouse said her name was April. When she brought out their food she set Jesse's down first.
"That's the cutest little mark on your face," she said. "Almost looks like lipstick."
Unabashedly, Jesse pointed to the red oval shaped birthmark set high on his right cheek. "It means I'm special."
She smiled. "It looks like a kiss."
"Really?" Jesse asked.
Dale saw a look of contentment on Carol's face. Jesse's birthmark was something she'd never wanted their son to be shy or embarrassed about.
The waitress set out the rest of the plates. "I heard a mark like that means that right before you were born an angel kissed you."
Jesse turned to his mom. "Is that true?"
Carol smiled at her son and nodded. "I think she may be right."
April bent down and kissed Jesse on the top of his head. "I'm not an angel, but there's a kiss from me."
Dudley Simpson had been right; the food was excellent. After they ate, Dale got up to use the bathroom. "You need to go again, Jess?"
The boy shook his head. "No thanks."
Dale handed Carol a credit card. "Let's save our cash."
She nodded. "All right, baby."
"Back in a sec," he said as he turned away.
***
When he came out of the men's room, Carol and Jesse weren't at the table. The waitress had been quick. Most of the dirty plates were gone; the only ones left were his. Dale looked for his family near the front door, then up by the cash register, but they weren't there.
Maybe Jesse had changed his mind and Carol had brought him into the bathroom with her. So Dale waited, but after several minutes passed and they didn't come out, he decided to check outside. They might have gotten cold or Jesse could've gotten restless and they were waiting out front for him. But they weren't out front, either.
Across the street the lights were out at the gas station--Dudley was closed for the night. The Jeep Cherokee sat at the pumps. Anxiously, Dale looked at the hotel. Maybe...but they wouldn't do that, wouldn't have gone without him. That wasn't like Carol. Smart and independent, but she liked her husband doing the man things, and in her mind, checking into a hotel was a man thing.
Back inside he knocked on the door of the women's restroom. No one answered, so he cracked it open. "Carol?" No answer. "Carol, Jess, you there?"
"Can I help you, sir?" It was their waitress.
Embarrassed, Dale forced a laugh. "I seem to have lost my wife and son." He nodded toward the men's room. "While I was in there."
"Your wife and son?" She looked confused.
"When I came back they were gone."
She had a blank look on her face.
Annoyed, he said, "I ate with them."
The waitress furrowed her brow. "Sir, I didn't see you with anyone else."
Dale stared at her. For a second he thought that maybe he was wrong, maybe this wasn't his waitress. He checked her name tag, saw it said April. "You waited on us." Dale pointed to his right cheek. "My son has that little birthmark. You said an angel kissed him."
She shrugged. "I think I'd remember that."
He pointed to himself. "You remember me?" Then at their table. "We were sitting right there."
She nodded. "Yes, sir. I remember you, but you ate by yourself." She turned to the table where Dale's dishes still sat. "I was just bringing you your bill."
He raised his voice. "Is this some kind of a joke?" People began looking at him.
April took a step back and raised her hands. "You need to talk to Mr. Simms."
"Who's Mr. Simms?"
"The owner."
"Well that's who I want to see."
Mr. Simms was already scurrying over. "What's the problem?"
Dale turned to him. "I can't find my family." He pointed at the girl. "She was our waitress and she's telling me she doesn't even remember them."
Mr. Simms looked at April.
She shrugged again. "I'm sorry but he was alone. I've never seen his family."
Simms looked like he didn't understand. April tried to explain it again, but Dale cut her off and pointed to the table. "My family and I ate right there. I went to the restroom, came out, and they were gone."
Mr. Simms clapped a hand on Dale's shoulder. "Maybe they're outside waiting for you."
"I've checked outside," he barked. "They're not there."
Simms glanced at the waitress. "Why don't you get back to work. I'll handle this."
Dale grabbed her by the arm. "She knows where they are."
Everyone in the restaurant stared at him.
Mr. Simms jerked Dale's hand away from the girl. "Sir, she said she doesn't know where your family is."
April pleaded with her boss. "He didn't have his family with him."
"She's lying!" Dale said, as he inched closer to April.
Simms stepped between them. Looking at Dale, he said, "Have you checked your car?"
He nodded. "It's broken down at the gas station across the street. We've got to spend the night at the hotel."
Mr. Simms smiled. "That's probably it."
"What?"
"I bet they're at the hotel."
"He was by himself," April said.
The restaurant owner snapped his head towards her and pointed to the dinning area. "Go."
She looked at her boss for a second, a half-formed protest on her lips; then suddenly she spun on her heel and stomped away.
Simms looked back at Dale. "Have you checked the hotel?"
"They wouldn't do that."
"Have you checked?" Insistent.
Dale could feel himself losing control as the sweat dripped from his armpits. He took several deep breaths, trying to force himself to calm down. "No, I haven't."
"Maybe your kids got tired."
The deep breathing had made him light-headed. "Just the one boy." As Dale turned toward the door, Simms patted him on the back. "I'm sure everything's going to be fine."
But things weren't fine. At the hotel, he woke up Mrs. Jensen. Turns out she and Mr. Jensen had an apartment behind the office. Dale had banged on the glass door of the office for five minutes before a light came on.
Mrs. Jensen had come out first. A white haired old lady, covered in a paper-thin pink housecoat, imprinted with blue flowers the size of a quarter. A minute later, Mr. Jensen, looking about seventy, dressed in a full set of dark green, silk pajamas and a pair of matching slippers, stumbled into the office, smelling like he'd taken a bath in Jack Daniel's.
Dale's heart sank. He went through the story anyway, but as he expected, the Jensens said that no one had checked in or even come by since mid-morning.
Walking back to the restaurant, he looked at his Jeep. Still empty and no one near it.
A marked police car was parked near the restaurant's front door. As he got closer, Dale read the decal on the side, BATESVILLE TOWN MARSHAL. Maybe now he could get some help.
Just inside, near the cash register, Dale found April the waitress, Mr. Simms, and a heavyset man in jeans and a T-shirt, talking. As he walked up, all three stopped and stared at him. He felt like a freak in a boardwalk exhibit.
"Did you find them?" Simms asked.
Dale shook his head. "The people at the hotel haven't seen them."
The big man in jeans took a step toward him. "Mr...?
"Thornton. Dale Thornton."
The man stuck out his hand. "Jerry Stillwell. I'm town marshal."
"Saw your car outside." Dale shook the marshal's hand. "My wife and son are miss--"
"I understand there was a problem here earlier."
"Yeah there's a problem. My family disappeared."
The marshal and Simms traded glances; then he looked back at Dale. "So I heard. What do you think happened to them?"
Something didn't feel right. "If I knew that, they wouldn't be missing."
Marshal Stillwell stuck his belly out. "No reason to get smart. You all ready scared some customers. Don't make--"
"Scared some customers. Is that why you're here, because I scared some customers? My wife and son are MISSING!" Everyone in the restaurant had stopped eating and was watching the soap opera at the door. With a sharp edge to his voice, Dale said, "What are you going to do about it?"
The marshal jabbed a finger at him. "You better calm yourself down or I'll do it for you. Now I need to ask you some questions," his eyes swept the customers, "and I don't think this is the place to do it."
"I'm not going anywhere." Dale pointed to the completely cleaned off table where they'd eaten. "Half an hour ago my family and I ate right there. Now they're gone. Someone in here knows what happened to them."
The marshal dropped a big hand on Dale's shoulder and tried to guide him out the door. "We're going to find your family, but not here, not like--"
Dale pulled away. He pointed to Simms and the waitress. "They coming with us?"
"I don't see the need for--"
Dale reached out for April. "She's lying!"
With surprising speed, the town marshal slipped behind him and clamped a meaty forearm around his throat, sealing off his windpipe. Dale grabbed at the hairy arm and tried to twist it away as the marshal whispered in his ear, "Take it easy, son." Then something jabbed him in the kidney that sent waves of pain shooting up his back.
Seconds later, Dale was on the floor, his cheek pressed against the cool tiles, as the marshal handcuffed his wrists behind his back.
***
"She said it was the kiss of an angel, huh?" Marshal Stillwell asked. Things had calmed down some. Dale and the town marshal were alone in his office. Dale was still handcuffed, but the marshal had moved them to the front. He sat in a chair in front of the lawman's desk, watching him fill out forms with a ballpoint pen. Stillwell touched his finger to his right cheek. "That mark you're talking about is right here?"
Dale nodded.
"That's strange."
The handcuffs were uncomfortable. Dale twisted his wrists, trying to get some circulation back. "What's unusual about it?"
"We had a preacher in town few years back with the same kind of mark on his face." Stillwell traced a small circle on his cheek. "Heard him say once during a sermon it was from an angel's kiss."
Dale stared at the marshal, his flesh suddenly crawling with goosebumps.
"But he was a strange one. Lots of rumors. Guess it goes with the territory."
"What territory?"
"Young, good-looking preacher. Single. Moves into town, starts preaching all hours of the night." He gave Dale a knowing wink, like they were sharing a secret. "Giving special counseling sessions to half the women in town."
Grasping at straws, looking for anything. Dale said, "Is he still here?"
Marshal Stillwell shook his head. "Church burned down."
"What about the preacher?"
"We never found his body."
"He was the only one in the church?"
Stillwell looked down at the form on his desk and pressed his pen to it. "He had six or eight ladies in there with him. Supposed to be some sort of social club. Fire was so hot, we couldn't tell one body from the next. That was when the rumors really started."
Dale flexed his fingers. His hands hurt. "What kind of rumors?"
The marshal laughed. "Just gossip. People 'round here are simple minded, superstitious, that's all."
"What kind of gossip?"
Stillwell looked up. "Not everybody you understand, but some people have been talking about how the preacher isn't really dead, about how he's gonna come back some day."
Dale needed to get out, to find Carol and Jesse. There was something terribly wrong here. "Am I under arrest?"
Stillwell nodded.
In the corner stood a single holding cell, the door gaping open, waiting. "What's the charge?"
The marshal jerked a thumb in the general direction of the restaurant. "Disturbing the peace."
"What about my family?"
The man tapped the pile of forms in front of him. "I'll forward these missing persons reports to the state police in the morning; then I'll call the judge and try to get a bond set for you."
Dale sprung to his feet. "I've got to find my family tonight!"
Marshal Stillwell eased out of his chair and stood up. "Just calm down. Soon as I get this information to them, the state troopers will be on the lookout." He jerked his thumb toward the south. "Their office is just five miles down the road."
Dale nodded at the phone on the desk. "Call them now."
The marshal shook his head. "Can't do that."
"Why not."
"I got procedures to follow."
Dale Thornton squatted and shoved the desk into Stillwell. The marshal's chair rolled back on its casters but snagged on something and tipped over, spilling Marshal Stillwell onto the floor. Dale scrambled over the desk, knocking papers, pens, and a near full cup of coffee on top of the lawman, then dropped a knee into the man's big belly. The marshal curled into a ball and moaned.
Stillwell didn't have a gun on him, at least not one Dale could find. The way he was dressed it looked like he had been called out from home. Maybe he forgot his gun, or maybe he just didn't carry one. Dale grabbed a handful of shirt and dragged the marshal into the open holding cell, then kicked the door shut. It locked automatically.
By the time Stillwell staggered to his feet Dale was searching his desk. The marshal tried to rip the steel bars apart with his bare hands. "Let me out of here, you crazy bastard!"
Dale ignored him. In the bottom right hand drawer he found a gun, a .38 caliber, five-shot Smith and Wesson. Stillwell started shouting for help. Dale leveled the gun at him. "Shut up."
Stillwell quit yelling.
Dale kept searching.
A few seconds later, the marshal said, "You'll never get away with this."
Holding his wrists up, Dale rattled the handcuffs. "Keys?"
The cop pointed to the desk. "Bottom left."
After he got the handcuffs off, Dale finished going through the desk, then did a quick search of a filing cabinet that was set against the wall. There he found keys to the holding cell and a roll of duct tape.
As Dale approached the cell, Marshal Stillwell backed against the far wall. "What are you gonna do?"
Aiming the revolver at Stillwell's belly, Dale ordered him to lie on the floor. A few minutes later he relocked the cell door, leaving the marshal with his hands cuffed behind his back and a strip of silver duct tape wrapped around his head that sealed his mouth shut. On his way out of the marshal's office, Dale tossed the revolver back into the desk drawer and kicked it shut. That was trouble he didn't need.
The state police. "Their office is just five miles down the road," the marshal had said.
Darkness had settled over the Batesville. How long had he been in the marshal's office? Everything in town was closed and locked up tight. There wasn't a light to be seen, and not a soul on the street. He didn't see any payphones.
He had to get out of town. Which way had the marshal pointed when he mentioned the state police? Thinking about it, Dale decided it had to be south. They'd driven in from the north and he was sure they hadn't passed a state police troop.
The night had turned cold. If he was going to walk for five miles he needed a jacket.
It took just a few minutes to make it to the gas station. His Jeep was right where he'd left it, but when he reached into his pocket for the keys they weren't there. An image flashed through his mind. A close up shot just like in a movie. His hand reaching toward Dudley Simpson's, and in his hand, his keys.
Damn!
He looked into the rear window, saw their luggage lying in the back. Dale thought about breaking the window and getting a jacket, maybe his gun, too. Not the gun. He was in enough trouble all ready for what he'd done to the town marshal. Assault, kidnapping--maybe not kidnapping, he hadn't taken him anywhere, just locked him in his own cell--but something like kidnapping. Desperation had driven him to it. That's the only reason he had done it. Because he had to find Carol and Jesse.
He could make it without a jacket.
Old Highway 167 south. Dale Thornton started walking. Ten minutes later he saw headlights behind him, coming from town. He crouched in the bushes beside the highway, but the beat-up pickup glided to a stop next to him. An old man sat behind the wheel, alone in the truck. "You need a ride?"
Feeling like a complete fool, Dale stood. "Yeah, I guess."
"Where you headed?"
"You know where the state police office is?"
The old man nodded, then jerked his head toward the passenger side. "Hop in."
As he climbed into the pickup truck, Dale shot a glance at the old man. Probably at least seventy, with long ghost white hair and a bushy mustache, wearing a stained undershirt and a pair of denim overalls. Dale scanned the dashboard for a clock but didn't see one. "What time is it?"
The old man shrugged. "Haven't worn a watch in thirty years. Do things as quick as I can. A timepiece strapped to my wrist ain't gonna make me move any faster."
The drive was torture. Never did the old man go over thirty-five miles an hour. Only good thing was that he didn't ask any questions. Just dropped Dale off in the parking lot of the state police troop. As he walked through the door into the police station, Dale glanced over his shoulder and saw the old man's pickup rumbling down the highway.
Inside, sitting behind a chest high counter, was a uniformed trooper, sergeant stripes on his sleeves. Mid-40's, with an iron gray crew cut. "Can I help you, sir?" the sergeant said.
Dale spat out the story as fast as he could, leaving out the part about how he'd handcuffed the town marshal and left him gagged in his own jail cell.
The sergeant's face had remained inscrutable while Dale talked. "What was the name of that town again, sir?"
"Batesville."
The sergeant wheeled his chair over to a map hanging on the wall. "And where'd you say it was?"
The state cop demonstrated the same bureaucrat mentality as the town marshal. Any minute now he'd break out a sheaf of forms and start filling them out. Dale pointed north. "Five miles that way."
"What'd you say your name was again?" The sergeant glided the chair back over to his work area and pulled a pen from his shirt pocket.
"Thornton. Dale Thornton."
As soon as the sergeant finished jotting Dale's name on a pad, he looked up. "There's no town named Batesville."
"I was just there!"
The sergeant stood up. "Take it easy, sir. I'm sure you just got the name mixed up."
Just like in the restaurant.
"...get to the bottom of it." The desk sergeant was still talking, but Dale hadn't heard everything. He felt dizzy. Was everyone around here crazy? "We ate dinner there," he mumbled. "I left my car at the gas station. Dudley Simpson's gas station."
The sergeant nodded as he walked around the counter. A big man, at least six feet, with the beefy build of a weightlifter. "I know Simpson's place. Old 167 and Highway 90. But there's no town there, just the gas station."
"The gas station's smack in the middle of the town. There's a restaurant, a general store, and a hotel, too."
The sergeant closed on him, his body bladed, his gun side away from Dale. "I need you to put your hands on the counter, sir."
"What?"
With his right hand resting on his holstered pistol, the state trooper took hold of Dale's wrist with his left hand and pushed it to the top of the counter. Dale's other hand followed. The sergeant said, "Pull you feet back."
"What are you doing?"
"You have any weapons on you?"
"No! Of course not." Glad he'd left the marshal's gun, glad he hadn't gotten his own out of the Jeep.
"I'm just gonna pat you down."
"Why?" Dale said. "I haven't done anything. My family's missing?"
The sergeant slid his hands over Dale's waist and the outside of his pockets. "It's for safety, sir."
"Whose?"
"Yours and mine," the trooper sergeant said as he stepped backward a few feet.
"Something's happened to my wife and son. I came here for help."
"What happened to them?"
"I don't know," Dale said. "That's why I need your help."
"Mr. Thornton, I've worked this area for nineteen years. There is no town called Batesville."
"I don't care what you call it, but there's a town five miles away and we need to go there right now."
"Closest town is twelve miles from here and it's south."
The gas station. At least the sergeant knew about the gas station. Dale looked over his shoulder at the big cop. "Can I stand up?" After getting a nod, Dale pushed away from the counter and stood straight. Arguing wasn't getting him anywhere. "Look sergeant, maybe I seem a bit confused, but I know my wife and 6-year-old son are missing. Our car broke down at Simpson's gas station. Can you drive me there and help me look for them?"
The sergeant took his hand off his pistol and relaxed a little. "How'd you get here?"
"An old man in a pickup gave me a ride."
"You get his name?"
Dale's mouth opened but nothing came out as he realized he couldn't remember a thing about the old man or his truck. No details at all.
"What's the matter?"
Dale shook his head. "He...he just gave me a ride. I didn't get his name."
The trooper sergeant held up his hand. "Stay right here. Soon as I get someone to cover the desk, I'll give you a ride back to Simpson's."
Ten minutes later Dale climbed into the passenger seat of the state police car. The sergeant looked over at him. "Put your seatbelt on." Dale strapped himself in but noticed the sergeant didn't.
On the highway the trooper asked him to go over the story again. As Dale repeated what had happened, the sergeant asked several questions about Simpson's: what time of day, what was wrong with the car, who had the keys; but he asked nothing about what happened in the restaurant. The restaurant that wasn't there, according to the sergeant.
A few minutes later the police cruiser's headlights lit up the darkened gas station and Dale's Jeep parked at the pumps.
There was nothing else--absolutely nothing else.
The sergeant slowed down as he turned into the parking lot. "That your Cherokee?"
Stunned, Dale couldn't answer. Staring out the window, struck dumb by what he saw, or didn't see. No restaurant, no hotel, no Batesville General Store--no town. Just empty farmland and a few trees surrounding the gas station.
The trooper pulled his car up behind the Jeep, leaving a car-length gap between the two of them. "Stay here," he said as he pulled a flashlight from a charger mounted to the dash.
Dale leaned his head against the window and watched the sergeant creep up to the driver's door of his Jeep Cherokee, flashlight held out in front of him, his other hand on the butt of his pistol. The state cop opened the door--the locked door--and poked his head inside the passenger compartment of Dale's Jeep. The trooper backed out and held up his hand, Dale's keys dangling from his fingers. "Keys were inside," he shouted.
With legs quivering, Dale stepped out of the police car. He couldn't understand this. The Jeep had been locked, Dudley Simpson had the keys. He stumbled toward the trooper.
The sergeant shined his flashlight into the back, into the cargo compartment. Suddenly, his face turned to stone. He dropped the keys, drew his gun, aimed both it and his flashlight at Dale. "Don't move!"
Dale stopped dead. What the hell was...
"Get on the ground!"
Not comprehending, Dale just stood there.
The trooper screamed at him, "Get on the fucking ground--now."
Dale Thornton dropped face down onto the pavement. From the corner of his eye, he saw the sergeant side-stepping around him until he was behind Dale and to his left.
The trooper said, "Turn your head to the right."
Dale did as he was told. Then the sergeant closed in and cuffed his hands behind his back. Just the second time in his life Dale had been handcuffed, both on the same night.
After backing up a few steps, the sergeant keyed the radio clipped to his belt and called the state police troop. When the dispatcher answered, the sergeant said, "I need back up units," Dale heard him take a deep breath, "and notify the corner."
The tinny voice from the radio said, "What you got, sergeant?"
"Homicide," the trooper answered. "Suspect is in custody."
Homicide?
The sergeant hooked Dale's elbows and jerked him to his feet, then picked up the keys and opened the tailgate of the Jeep.
Lying in the back, in the cargo space, arms and legs twisted into a torturous configuration, was the naked body of his wife, Carol. At the back of her head, her golden hair was tangled and caked with dried blood. Her face chalk white, her forehead blown out where the bullet had exited. On the carpet next to her was a .357 revolver--Dale's .357 revolver.
She was alone.
"Jesse!" Dale screamed at the dark and empty fields.
***
In 1885 the town of Batesville, Louisiana burned to the ground. Scores of people were killed in the predawn fire that swept through the town. Among those reported killed in the blaze was the town's only minister, but many bodies were so badly burned that positive identification was impossible.
The fire started in the Batesville church and was allegedly set by a preacher from a nearby town. The preacher, a God-fearing and righteous man, was said to have been outraged at the evil deeds going on in Batesville, which he had called a modern-day Sodom.
The town of Batesville was never rebuilt.
THE END