I didn't have the time to get to the library yesterday, and staff wouldn't allow me on the computer yesterday. I apologize to everyone who may have been concerned.
To be honest, I'm a little scared. Not because I think that I'm in any real danger, but because my hits have gone through the roof and I'm not always certain of their sources. I've only given the URL to about ten souls. I'm praying they account for all 300 pings of interest in the last week.
I am once again in possession of reliable transportation. It makes a world of difference. Sleep is ever illusive, so I push through days doing my best not to give in to exhaustion.
Today my ward Relief Society held its holiday Super Saturday. I'd signed up for far more crafts than anyone should, and paid for them before I knew I was leaving. I arranged to pick up my daughters at 10 a.m. and together we joined the throng of Mormon women from our ward making holiday gifts and crafts for a couple of hours. It's so unlike me that it was quite lovely; entirely nice to abandon the reality of where I'm at in life to glue and cut and trim and stamp. We came away with one muffin tin advent calendar completed, two more in the works, and several jeweled trinkets my youngest daughter had fashioned with metal stamps and crystals. Maybe this is why women do this sort of thing in the first place--to immerse oneself in decoration and forget reality.
I picked up my youngest son and between him and the three of us girls we stormed Deseret Industries for a pair of dress slacks for my boy, a coat for L--, a lengthy phone chat with my mom, and an NIV Bible for one of my sister refugees who is Southern Baptist and was stranded here by her husband with absolutely nothing. Of the two spiritual confirmations I received today, the fact that she needed that Bible was one of them.
Once that task was completed I finally got to making dinner for all the women and children staying at this location. M-- worked on an acrylic portrait of me, L-- played with the babies, and B-- was himself in his private world while I put together two pans of chicken enchiladas (my specialty at home), a green salad, and a barge of a bowl of grapes. Talk about warm my heart. Seeing the kids dig in, and hearing the women mmm-ing and aw-ing as they did. I told them I'm up for it whenever they like. I even take requests. This evening, no matter how small, I made a difference in the world of people who are stressed and somewhat frightened and entirely unsure what the future brings. Tonight this location felt like home.
It pained me to drop off my children, but I'll be back tomorrow morning to get them for church. We'll see how well I can orchestrate that. I'm nervous. I'm not going to lie. My husband texted me midday yesterday, just to say he loved and missed me. Today, he hasn't texted at all. I haven't spoken to him since he stormed out of our house on Tuesday morning yelling that I was a child, over-reacting to his belittling mistreatment by crying, and that I was damaging my son by holding him and protecting him from the shouting and anger.
B-- told me tonight, "I know what you could have done different. You could have just let dad take me to school, instead of telling him that you would do it when he was yelling."
My mom says B-- feels he's at fault since he wanted me to take him.
So tomorrow, should I run into him, I really don't know what I will say or do. I can't return. Not until he has accepted that he needs help, until he's received that help, until he has changed sufficiently that it is no longer an emotional threat to me or my kids.
I tell myself that if he is willing, I can wait. I will too. I just pray that I get the chance. I'm praying for miracles.