Timothy Kline: Thoughts and Reflections

While millions of other families around the world gather together to celebrate one day of appreciation and gratitude for what they have been through, for each other, and for many other things, I sit here at my desk trying to figure a multitude of things out—much of it by the seat of my pants, as it were.

And while I’m tempted to go into details, I am simply going to say that I appreciate the very few people in my life whom I can speak openly and frankly to and know that for them, the feelings that are behind those words are what really matters.

I appreciate those very few people in my life to whom I can say that something they’re doing makes me feel a certain way—and they know that I’m not saying that they are doing that—but that by their actions or words, I am being made to feel that they are.

I appreciate those very few people in my life who, realizing that I am hurting and confused or frustrated, then say to me that they certainly never meant to convey that impression—but that they understand how what they said or did could have been taken that way. I appreciate those very few people in my life who are willing to do their part to correct the matter.

It’s difficult to maintain relationships, and even harder to build them. But it becomes even more difficult when you cannot speak openly with someone—even when they’ve assured you that you can say anything to them, or talk to them about anything. It becomes more difficult when, after opening your heart’s feelings about a problem, they respond by saying that they’re sorry that they’ve bothered you, and will just disappear, and tell you to pretend that you never knew them. It hurts when they don’t take the time or make the effort to understand how what they said or did could have been taken that way, even if they never meant it to.

But I’m grateful for those very few people in my life who do.

I don’t have very many friends at this stage in my life. In fact, I count three in all. But I’m grateful and thankful for each one of them. I’m grateful because they are the sort who are ready and willing to hear me out and immediately respond by saying, “Well, let’s see what we can do to resolve that together…” —not by abandoning me altogether because I spoke my heart or mind, and to tell me that the solution is for them to get out of my life altogether.

Friendships…  relationships… do not happen. They are built. They require blood, sweat, and yes, even tears. They require a determination like no other endeavor in our life requires—if they are to have any success whatsoever. Feelings will be hurt. Disappointments will occur.

It’s when we can say to one another, “I didn’t realize that I was doing that…  that what I was saying or doing was causing you to think or feel that…  and I’m sorry. Let’s see what we can do about repairing that right now…” that we stand a chance to make it, against even the longest odds.

And today, I am expressing my deepest appreciation and respect, gratitude and thankfulness for those few in my life who are of such making.

A letter of friendship and farewell

With the approach of my (un)official retirement as longtime webmaster and part-time editor for Robert, I felt it appropriate that I take some time to reflect on our online friendship of some eight or so years, because the majority of you know very little about me, except my role as Robert’s site administrator and webmaster. I have always made it a point to keep myself in the background and do what I could to support Robert’s efforts in getting his thoughts and writings out to those who might be interested and find his material what they were looking for.

I first met Robert on a Discussion Board called Hourglass 2 (H2O), one of the first and largest online message boards for and about Jehovah’s Witnesses. This was around 1998, when the internet was in its earliest stages of becoming the worldwide phenomenon that it is today. You still accessed the internet primarily via dial-up, and AOL was a household name. Multimedia, when you could find it, consisted of rough, blocky, barely watchable RealVideo and even worse audio.

Hourglass 2 was strictly a text-based message board that allowed both Witnesses and non-Witnesses to openly discuss topics related to the Watchtower, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and everything between. It was, in many ways, the Wild West of Witness-centric sites, and was considered so taboo that an anonymizer service was used to house the site and people who didn’t want to register could post anonymously.

It didn’t take long for the stronger personalities to become known among the regular participants, and entrenchment began between the pro- and the anti-Witnesses. Discussions, for the most part, were civil and cordial–but there were a lot of new wrinkles being worked out as well, because this was an entirely new venture for all parties involved.

Robert was known as YouKnow when he started participating, and he was a staunch advocate for the Watchtower and Jehovah’s Witnesses right from the start, and never seemed to back away from an opportunity to take on opposers and set matters straight.

It was around this time that I was beginning to see cracks in the framework of Watchtower theology, and I was starting to have questions that seemed to be avoided by my local elders, which only exasperated the problems, and when I came across Hourglass 2 and saw the discussions there, I eagerly took it all in, because those same questions were being asked and debated out in the open. It all felt SO taboo yet so liberating, at the same time. Talking about things of a doctrinal nature so openly (albeit often anonymously, for fear of retribution from the Watchtower organization) felt empowering and reassuring.

At least initially. But although I was finding confirmation for my concerns and disagreements with Watchtower theology in the numerous discussions taking place, there was something missing. There didn’t seem to be any “So what then?” and because there was no perspective brought into the discussions–a “Okay, these things are true and they are wrong, but this is what we should do in light of the problems.” I have always felt that the underlying purpose of the majority of Watchtower- or Witness-centric sites is simply to convince the person to leave the organization–with no real concern for what the person does once they leave–just so long as they leave. At the same time, the utter refusal of the Watchtower organization to address the problems inherent in the doctrines, theology, and practices was equally problematic, and the polar opposite to the opposers’ approach–with the same results!

On the one side, you had the opposers who told you to leave–and didn’t care what you did once you were out, so long as you left. On the other side, you had the Watchtower, that told you to stay–and didn’t care if you had a problem with what was being taught as truth, so long as you stayed. The opposers argued that there was no real future if you stayed; the Watchtower argued that there was no real future for you if you left.

All I wanted was perspective! I wanted someone to tell me why I should stay in spite of these issues. The final decision would still be mine, of course, but I at least wanted to hear the arguments for continuance in spite of the problems.

And so it was that early in 2002, I emailed Robert and started talking with him about my dilemma, and then anxiously awaited a reply. It finally came in February of 2002, and he shared many of the same concerns I had, but also put it into perspective in relation to Bible prophecy as he understood it. We exchanged several emails forward from that point, and during the course of our missives to one another, I became aware that he had written several essays and treatises in relation to the situation that was happening with the Watchtower organization, and I suggested at one point that he should have a website and make this information available to others who might be looking for this information as well, because of their own situation.

Shortly after that, he allowed me to start publishing his writings online through the e-watchman website.

That was late in 2002, and we have been working together ever since.

Around that same time, I had become frustrated with there not being a message board that allowed for perspective on Witness-centric issues and problems, and I started an online forum called Pathways Online, which became reasonably popular–and would’ve become enormously popular, had I not acted as strict as I did in moderating discussions so that an appropriate balance was struck in the discussions that took place. That’s not to say that I didn’t exercise too much force at times, but nearly everyone that ever participated on my forum was comfortable with it–or would set me straight if I overstepped my own self-imposed guidelines.

When Robert had me set up a guestbook for his site, however, it quickly became clear that there needed to be a discussion board for those who wanted to discuss and debate the things Robert was putting online, because the guest book was fast becoming a discussion board itself, and getting overwhelmed and stretched rather thin.

Robert, understandably so, was NOT interested in being bothered with a discussion board at this point–he’d had his fill of message boards that swiftly fell under the influence of outright opposers, and he didn’t have the time to moderate and administrate a message board–preferring instead to focus on getting his writings online and putting together new materials as well.

So, the guestbook remained in place.

However, people from the guestbook were also starting to arrive at Pathways Online and wanting to discuss Robert’s materials–and regulars of the forum, too, were starting to do so. And while I have always been a strong advocate for open discussion on all topics related to Jehovah’s Witnesses on Pathways Online, I felt it was a conflict of interest to be Robert’s webmaster AND administrate a message board that predominantly criticized the material I was putting online for Robert.

So, I approached Robert again and raised the subject, and after plenty of hesitation and back-and-forth discussion, he finally relented and allowed me to set up a discussion board for his readers and critics. I would, in turn, administrate the site and moderate accordingly.

And so e-Jehovah’s Witnesses came into existence. This would’ve been around May 24, 2004.

Of course, there were those who complained that I was administrator of both discussion boards, because they were different in many ways that I won’t go into here. And by then, many had become familiar with my own personal views on scripture, and were quick to pick up on where those differences were in relation to Robert’s views–and they sought to capitalize on those differences by stirring up trouble and accusations of duplicity on my part. “How can you,” the argument usually went, “support and administrate a site that you yourself disagree with scripturally? Aren’t you being a hypocrite?”

And even today, there are those who are stymied at my continued involvement with Robert and role as his sites administrator and webmaster–knowing full well that I do not agree with everything that Robert has written or believes.

This has been a huge factor in my decision to remain in the background as much as possible, and not to personally participate in the discussions on e-Jehovah’s Witnesses–so as to not give critics fuel to light their fires of contention. And after I closed Pathways Online, it became easier to do so, of course.

What people seem to have the hardest time understanding is how I can continue to be involved with, friends with, and assist someone whom I do not wholeheartedly agree with when it comes to matters of scripture, interpretation and prophecy. Not that it surprises me that this remains a Mystery to them–because it doesn’t surprise me at all–because I think the majority of people miss the point entirely.

And because I know why I do, it matters not that others don’t “get it.”

See, there is not a single scriptural passage that you can point out to me that we can only love, assist, care for, encourage, and support those who agree with us or believe as we do. God certainly does not set that sort of example for us, and neither did our Exemplar, Jesus.

The areas where Robert and I differ on the Bible are irrelevant when you get down to the core of the matter. I still support his right as a Christian believer to make that information available to others, who can in turn either accept his findings, or reject them. I still support his right as a Christian believer to hold views and conclusions that differ from my own, because I am convinced that the day will arrive when these differences will be resolved by means of the promised Kingdom of the Heavens–or at least rendered moot. I do not believe that Robert and I must agree in order for me to consider him my Christian brother. Christian Love MUST trump doctrine and difference, or we fail as followers of Jesus and as a people of Jehovah. Of course, there are obvious considerations that we make in the process, out of conscience and conviction, but none of those apply in my ongoing relationship with Robert, and never have. Simply put, we are in agreement in the areas that I deem vital, and for that reason, the rest is just details that can be haggled over, fine-printed, and debated until the end of days–or accepted for what they are: differences that will one day be resolved, yet never granted the power to divide us as Christian brothers.

Robert has been a dear, treasured friend to me since I first approached him with my personal conflicts back in the days of Hourglass 2, and I hope that he considers me the same. I have seen him disappointed, hurt, and frustrated. I have seen him overjoyed and unbridled in conviction. I have seen him trampled by those whom he held in high esteem and thought friends, and I have witnessed the despair in solitude that often comes with the walk Robert is on. I have seen and known his battles, conflicts, loss, and triumphs in ways I wish all of you would have the privilege of witnessing–and I have seen how our kind, gracious, loving Father has been there with Robert every step of the way.

It is for these reasons and more that I am saddened that I will be ending (at least for the time being) my role as his business companion after so many years, so that I can focus more on the areas where Jehovah has blessed my own life and livelihood. There are personal matters that require my attention as well. Also, I have recently had the blessing of being reunited with two of my three daughters who had been adopted some 19 years ago. Too, my home-based business has grown beyond my expectations, in spite of a failing economy.

Jehovah has been very generous for my perseverance in spite of my own loss, turmoil, and distress–especially these past 10 or so years, and while he brought Robert and I together, the present circumstances seem to indicate that Jehovah is saying that Robert and I must part ways for a time so that we can see what Jehovah has in store for us, and so that our dependence does not become upon each other, but upon our God.

For those who wonder what I will be doing in the future, besides continuing to expand my business, rebuilding the relationship with my long-lost daughters, and the usual daily obligations and responsibilities, I would say that I will have very little free time to do much else!

Still, my intentions are to once again return to writing, eventually even completing and publishing a few books that I have back-burnered for far too long. I will continue to post blog entries, of course, and you can access those by visiting my primary website at http://timothy-kline.com and following the links from there. And I occasionally post at Hourglass 2 Outpost (a far cry from the pre-1999 Hourglass 2 message board). My other intentions, of course, are to continue to study theology, especially Christian theology, and advance in my understanding of the Bible, scripture, and God, as well as grow as a Christian.

But one wise expression comes to mind, as well: If you want to make God laugh, tell him of your plans.

So, in spite of my intentions, I’ll be doing whatever it is that Jehovah wills me to do.

In Christian Love,

Timothy Kline

Life's lessons are SO painful!

Since I’m having so much trouble sleeping tonight because my mind won’t leave me alone, I figure I might as well do something, and since I haven’t written in a while, this will serve as an update on my life, as well.

As I have discussed recently, I’ve had the amazing privilege of being reunited with now two of my three daughters whom I was essentially coerced into giving up for adoption by the State of Michigan some 19 years ago. It’s been nothing less than miraculous, really, and more than I dared ever expect—even though that didn’t stop me from hoping and doing what I could to get my name out there on the chance they might want to find me someday.

Be that as it may, it hasn’t failed to provide its own surprises, as well as frustrations—one of which I talked about in the previous entry.

I found out, for example, that I am a grandpa five times over. I didn’t, I admit, see that coming. My oldest daughter, Brandi, has three children, and my second-oldest daughter, Danielle, has two children. Insofar as I know, my youngest daughter, Melinda—whom I have not had contact with as of this writing—does not have any children.

Strange new territory, this being a grandpa so suddenly! But I’m very happy about that (and who wouldn’t be, really?) and looking forward to watching them grow and mature.

But that isn’t the reason why I’m sitting here writing at 2am in the morning.

It’s the realization that I’m coming into their lives after so many things have happened that might have been averted.

I’m frustrated because I can’t help but feel that it is the curse of a parent to want a better life for your children than they seem to want for themselves. I want you to remember that, because I’m going to come back to it later on in this entry. But that’s later.

First, I want to elaborate on what I mean.

In getting reacquainted with my daughters after all of the years that I was forced to miss out on, I can’t stop myself from wanting to kick into what I’ve laughingly referred to when I’m with them as “Daddy Mode,” where the father in me kicks in and wants to set matters straight and get to the bottom of the mess as soon as possible. The catch is that I haven’t been a part of my daughters’ lives for 19 years. They’ve been raised by the adoptive family, and are a product of that environment—and environment that weighs as a heavy influence on their decision-making skills, morals, outlook on life, and even their view of themselves. I know that it’s unrealistic to think that I can come on the scene after all of that groundwork has been laid for them, and expect things to suddenly be able to shift direction. It doesn’t, however, stop me from wanting that to be how it goes.

So, it’s a learning process for me as I try to get acquainted with my long-lost daughters, encourage them where I can, help them where I can, and realize that they have their own lives that they are living. The way I explained it to them was “I’m not going to tell you what to do or how I want you to live your lives. But I will probably tell you how you should. I will offer advice, but it is your choice whether to follow the advice or do things your own way. Either way, I will never withhold my love from you.” I also told them, “I will not always agree with your decisions, but I will always be there for you and have your back.” To that, I added, “I do not expect you to jump through hoops with me in order to be approved by me. If I give to you, it is without strings attached, where I later hold it over your head.” But I also made one other thing clear to both of them: “I will do everything within my power to help you with whatever it is that you need; however, I will NOT carry you.” The way I explained it was that I won’t help them unless I see that they’re at least helping themselves.

And true to my word, I’ve been dropping fatherly advice into both of my daughters’ laps—sometimes delicately, sometimes plainly and bluntly. But it is SO hard to give advice and then let the matter rest, and watch them continue doing things the way they are used to or prefer. But the way I figure it, it’s their life, and they’re free to live it however they want to live it. The bottom line is that I’m going to continue to love that and endure whatever angst, frustration, and disappointment comes with that—as well as the bliss and memorable moments.

Years ago, someone asked me if I believe in unconditional love, if I thought there was such a thing. And typically, the answer would be no for most people. But I do believe in unconditional love, a love that is simply given—regardless of whether it is returned, acknowledged, or ignored outright. I know there is such a thing because I have children, because I have sons and daughters. But I also know there are parents who, unless their children live the life that the parents want them to live, or do things the way that the parents want them to do them, will withhold their love, or even stop interacting with them altogether, cutting them off from the family in some attempt at ultimate discipline. Perhaps they disapprove of the lifestyle, or the boyfriend/girlfriend, the career choice—whatever the reason or excuse they concoct to justify their simplistic, unloving approach to their own flesh and blood.

I’m certainly not going to say that unconditional love is easy. It’s not. In fact, it will often run counter to every fiber of our being—because we as parents naturally want our children to obey us and comply with us. Sometimes, it’s for the simple reason that we know where they’ll end up if they don’t follow our counsel or advice. But as much as we want to protect our children, to save them from cuts, scrapes and bruises brought on by life, we have to let them crawl, walk, and then fly. And when (not if, but when) they stumble and fall, we will be there to help them back up again. They need to know that. They MUST know that, and we have to be the ones to tell them. And any temptation to say “I told you so” or “Well, if you’d listened and did what I said to do…” needs to be stomped out of existence, plain and simple. It is pointless and just plain evil.

All of this, of course, is a sort of preface to what has been bothering me since recently.

There are two things, actually, so I’ll start with the first part, and then get down to business with the other part.

Both of my daughters are in what I will settle for calling predicaments of their own making. And the more I think about their predicaments, the more I want to go insane, because it is SO crazy to me. I’m at a complete loss what to do about it to help them. I’ve offered each of them advice, of course, and made recommendations, but they seem determined at this point to do things the way they prefer or are comfortable with. So, I am having to let the matter rest and let them see where their way takes them, and wait to see what happens next.

There are the predicaments, as I said, but there is also that “groundwork” that I referred to earlier, laid by the adoptive family. Then, of course, there are the obviously unresolved issues related to the whole family upheaval and subsequent adoption placement. Abandonment issues, emotional trauma (at least for the two oldest girls), insecurities—not even to mention them being told for the past 19 years that their daddy was a molestor and their mom was nearly as bad with issues of their own—a subject that I address in the previous blog with much frustration.

So, I completely understand that there are numerous factors in play here. It’s actually, at times, overwhelming how messed up everything is about this whole situation, and how it could have all been so different. But I try not to spend too much dwelling on that because it can’t be changed now—all that I have to work with is the here and the now, and potentially the future—IF I don’t screw this up by scaring them off with my “Daddy Mode.” Finding that balance is HARD, let me tell you!

Now, just recently, I was able to spend the day with both daughters that I have been reunited with at this point. It was, on the one hand, the most wonderful day for me since I can remember—and on the other hand, it had the most gut-wrenching, heartbreaking moments since I can remember.

I suppose a lot of it is due to the fact that the more I become acquainted with them, the more I am uncovering or discovering, and I am absolutely gutted to see just how broken they are. People who have spent any time with me online may be familiar with that expression because I’ve used it from time to time, where I’ve made the observation that everyone is broken—it’s just that some people are better at coping with it than other people are. Be that as it may, I’m not talking about other people, or everyone here: I’m talking about my daughters.

I want to make one thing absolutely clear here: I signed a piece of paper 19 years ago acknowledging that the court had the right to terminate my parental rights and subsequently adopt my girls to another family. I acknowleged that I was releasing all parental rights in that declaration. But in my heart and in my heart and in my soul, where the court could never reach or compel, I refused to stop thinking of myself as their father, and I refused to stop thinking of them as my daughters. They were taken—I did NOT give them or abandon them to the state. So, in every sense of the word, they never ceased being MY daughters, I don’t care what a piece of paper says or how I was coerced into signing that paper. And they will ALWAYS be my daughters!

And I suspect, as I become reacquainted with them, that I had made my fatherly impression on them to such an extent that they remembered my love for them in their very core, and that for their entire life they have had an insatiable void that they have tried to fill through lost, misdirected choices and relationships.

Be that as it may, I can do nothing except try to put the pieces back together, to try to repair the brokenness and heal and salve and bear the pain throughout the entire process.

What makes matters even more difficult is that they seem to be able to point out the faults of one another’s life choices and each other’s boyfriends—but they aren’t looking at their own lives and focusing on what THEY need to be doing with their own life. That, to me, is both crazy and frustrating. I’m torn between laughing hysterically and wanting to pull my hair out of my head! Worse still is that there are uncanny resemblances with BOTH of their situations that I won’t go into here—resemblances that I wish SO much they could see. But while they don’t like how the other one is living their life, they aren’t doing very much with their own life, either.

Which just goes back to what I was saying earlier in that they have that choice, and must make it for themselves. I can’t tell them how to live their life—I can only tell them how they should live their life.

But regardless, I love them both, and care for them beyond words. So, it hurts when I see them at each other. It hurts when I know where their choices may take them. And it hurts to let them have their choice. Love hurts, and at the same time, I would never want to stop loving them—even though I know the worst of the pain, heartache, and frustration is still ahead. But as bad as this gets, I want them to know that I am not going to step away from this. They can, but I will not. I will never stop being their father, or stop caring, or stop wanting nothing short of the best for them. Ever.

Which brings me to the final part of this blog, and the motivating factor that set things into motion.

To preface the final, closing point, I need to lay down a couple things to provide perspective.

The same day that I met Danielle, she had asked me if I could take her to her new boyfriend’s place. It was out of my way, and I told her as much. After a moment or so, I offered a compromise: ride back with me once I picked up her sister for laundry day at my house, and I’d swap vehicles and take her to her new boyfriend’s place. She agreed, and I picked up Brandi, and we headed back to Perry. After we got to my house, I of course, invited Danielle in and showed her around, introduced, and that sort of thing, and then we were on our way to meet her new boyfriend, outside his ex-girlfriend’s place, where Danielle said he had been staying for the past few days. I dropped her off, and headed back to Perry.

A short while later, I got a phone call from Danielle, asking me if I could take her home because she was hungry and hadn’t eaten, and her new boyfriend wasn’t ready to go home and would be staying behind. Of course, I said I would but that I’d bring her back home with me and feed her lunch and then take her home the same time I took her sister home. She said that was fine,  and was on my way to pick her up.

And then, as I was heading to the town to pick her up, my cell phone rang. It was Danielle. She said that Jeremy was wanting to go home with her now.

My stomach clenched. I didn’t know what to say. My first thought was that I’m being played, either by Danielle or by both of them—and I didn’t care who was playing me: I did NOT like it.

I finally bit my tongue and said okay, and let her go. The rest of the way there, I battled with myself, angry at feeling like I had been played. Should I take them home after I had already invited Danielle back to my house for dinner with everyone, or should I take them straight home like Danielle and said they wanted to do. What to do, what to do!?

And this voice came out of nowhere, reaching into the back of my frustration. “Now you know how it feels for me.“

Now I’m not a churchy, religious, Bible-thumping Christian. But I am a believer and a man of faith. And I’ve had my fair share of moments in my life that could ONLY be explained through my belief in God. This had to be one such moment. There is no other explanation that fits. Now you know how it feels for me.

In that moment, I realized that it must suck to be God. To love your children unconditionally, and let them have their choices and have to deal with the consequences of those choices. And do you still remember what I told you to remember at the beginning of this blog entry?

It is the curse of a parent to want a better life for your children than they seem to want for themselves.

I had been brought into this because God was wanting me to learn something about him. What it’s really like to be a parent—the good, the bad, and the ugly. And then letting me decide: do I want to be the sort of parent that He is, or the sort that I think I should be? If I’m going to talk about unconditional love, then I’m going to be put to the test, sure enough!

And sure enough, in that moment, I was. And yet the choice was mine to make. Nobody was going to make me choose or tell me what to do.

Now you know how it feels for me, the voice told me as I drove. You want to know how it feels to be a parent? You want to talk about frustration? Anger? Disappointment? About your children not listening to what you’re trying to tell them? But you know what? I never stop loving my children. I never said it would be easy for you, and you can still walk away from this. I’d understand. But I don’t believe that you will, and I want you to know that you won’t be alone in the tears or the happiness. I’ll always be here for you.

I can’t say that even then I wanted to do what I felt in my heart I should do. But the Voice stayed with me the rest of the way to Williamston, and once Danielle was sitting in the seat next to me, I made my decision. I AM in this, no matter what. Heartbreak and all. I love my children too much to do anything else.

So, I brought them back home with me, to have dinner with the rest of us.

But I did take Danielle for a walk with me as soon as we got the house, to tell her my gut feeling that I had been played and that I did not like feeling that way. I also did my best to assure her that I care about her, because I do.

Was I played? I’ll never know for sure. She explained things from her side, of course. But even if I was, I made my choice, and I accepted the consequences for that choice by having her and her new boyfriend come back to the house for dinner.

Besides, the remainder of the visit and day went fairly good, and in time I forgot about that initial frustration because my appreciation and gratitude for having two of my daughters together in my home at the same time was joyous and reward enough for me. If I had listened to by frustration instead, I would have missed out on that.

I think the way I worded it in a Status update on Facebook was that I had enjoyed a day with two of my long-lost daughters, and while are a few crinkles, kinks, and wrinkles needing to be worked out, I am SO thankful and grateful to have these two beautiful, amazing women back in my life.

And I mean every word of it.

Brandi, Danielle, and Melinda, 19 years ago

It’s been three weeks now since I had the surprise of a lifetime, when I sat down to my computer and saw a Facebook notification that I had been sent an email from one of my three daughters whom I have not had contact with for some 19 years. I remember that initial feeling of “Is this a dream?!” that I had as I read the message. The day that I had always looked forward to and hoped and prayed for was finally upon me. What should I do? Do I respond? Do I ignore the email? After all, it had been 19 years, and I doubted that they even remembered me. That’s not even to mention that any role that I could have had in their life was taken away from me, both because of my own mistakes and a system of justice that was full of injustice.

For 19 years I imagined how well they must have done without me in their life. All successful, all beautiful, all so-much-better off than they would have been without me in their life. And yet during those years, I did everything I could to put my name out there, and with the internet I was able to do it more thoroughly. Surely they would be online, somewhere, and one day–out of curiosity, perhaps, they would type my name in and find me.

For 19 years, I second-guessed myself in the whole situation. I had been coerced into releasing my parental rights after trying to fight the system some six months after their mother had signed away her parental rights. I was told again and again by the case worker that she would make sure that I NEVER had a chance, that I might as well sign the papers now, and that if I loved them, I wouldn’t stall another minute.

Every fiber of my being fought the suggestion. I knew that I wasn’t the best parent, and that I had screwed up and was a screw up, but I had been doing everything the court asked of me, and more. And this in addition to all of the drama I was having to go through with their mother, who took off with another guy, disappeared to Florida for like three months, and then came back and threw as many wrenches into the situation as she could, before finally signing off on the girls. I didn’t find out until after I finally relented that she did that to make sure that I didn’t get them either, because the caseworker had been clear from the time she came on the case that a single father would NOT get those girls. So, by Tonda signing off, she had effectively signed my death sentence as a father. I just didn’t know it until after the fact.

And true to her word, she pulled out all the stops, and went looking for anything she could use against me. Mind you that this was not the original caseworker in the case, but she was definitely a man-hater, or at least in no way objective. She came on the case well after I had already established total compliance with the court’s requirements and my having already earned some measure of respect for my efforts to reunite the family. The earlier caseworker was going to request return of the girls, so it was awfully convenient that THAT worker was replaced with this new one, whose agenda was completely opposite.

In any event, the newer caseworker tried to “coax” me into signing away my fatherhood by raising an accusation that I had sexually abused one or more of the girls. And while it’s interesting that NO investigation was ever done, NO charges were ever brought, AND that the girls were checked by a doctor AND a child psychologist and it was confirmed that NOTHING of the sort ever happened, it was still enough to raise the spectre of DOUBT in other people’s minds. No amount of me defending myself or swearing to God on High that I find even the implication of such deviancy ABHORRENT would clear the doubt.

And as the court records attest, it was nothing more than an off-handed remark made by someone to the caseworker, allegedly. But it was enough. Even so, I was, after much effort, once more granted UNSUPERVISED visitation with the girls by the court. Now, if there had been ANY basis to that allegation, would ANY court allow me to have unsupervised visitations? I’m certain that I’d either have been arrested and convicted, or at the least NEVER been left alone with them. EVER.

To make matters worse, I found out from the daughter who contacted me that all three girls had been told repeatedly that I DID molest them, to the point where the girls actually believed and remembered it happening, and that as a result of that instilled memory and repulsion, they want nothing to do with me.

What sort of twisted, evil, demented people would go to such lengths to DEGRADE me and compel my daughters to hate, resent, and despise me for something I never did? Was it not enough that they managed to get my daughters? Was it not enough that I would possibly forever be cut off from ever knowing what became of them? Was it their intention to make sure that the girls NEVER even WANTED to find me by painting me as some sort of perversion who preyed on them–and by doing so make THEMSELVES look as though they were the ones that really loved the girls? I mean, WHY DO THAT?

Yes, I made mistakes. Yes, I was a young, naive (even stupid!) parent. But that’s all. I would never have stooped to such evil. I don’t even have tolerance for people who are found guilty of that, regardless of the reasons. Preying on a child is beyond redemption in my book. Maybe God can forgive molestors and pedophiles: I do NOT.

But what makes all of this even worse is that maybe I could have lived with that accusation hanging over my head forever if it meant that the girls went on to have fantastic, successful, productive lives. It would be worth the personal sacrifice. But from what I’ve seen so far, it’s been hell for them, and all I can think about is how to help them…  not out of guilt, but out of a sense of purpose and compassion. And because I have never stopped caring or loving them as my daughters.

But how do you overcome brainwashing? How do you overcome years of being told that your father did such and such to you, blah blah blah? I have the court records, of course, to show my innocence. But what if they don’t care to find out the truth–and think that they KNOW the truth already, because, logically, why would their adoptive parents ever say something like that if it wasn’t true, right? Why would adoptive parents lie–especially about something like that?

That IS the question, isn’t it? And I keep coming back to the same answer: to ensure that they would not want anything to do with me. EVER! To break that initial bond I had with them. And, I’m pretty certain that they accomplished their goal.

As I mentioned at the start of this, I was contacted by one of my daughters–my oldest daughter. I’ve learned that she is going through things that I wish she didn’t have to, and I’ll do what I have it within my power to do to help as I am able, but I can’t help wondering how differently things had gone if I hadn’t been coerced into releasing my fatherhood so that they could all be placed with a family that would spend the next 19 years villifying and painting me as some embodiment of evil.

Things are going as well as they can. I am trying to get to know my oldest daughter all over again, and to rebuild a relationship, but it’s going to be a long, difficult road and I can see that now. But I’m going to put my best foot forward, be open-minded and see where things go. And I have concerns, of course (what parent wouldn’t?), but I’ve already gone off-topic once in this blog.

The friends that have known me and known how long I have waited for this, the tears that I’ve cried, the frustration I’ve lived with, have been SO encouraging through these past three weeks, and describe it as nothing short of a miracle. They are tremendously happy for me, as well. Being reunited with even ONE of my daughters after adoption is something you only get to see in a television show or movie. But in my case, it has become my reality.

Will I ever get to know my other two daughters? I wish I could say. If I could say anything to them, it would be that I am not the same person that I was back then…  that I have spent my entire life bringing myself to a place where–if they ever showed up–they would not be ashamed of me as their biological father, and that I would be able to help them if they needed it. That I’m here for THEM. And that I have missed them more than words could ever convey, and my life has never been complete, not once, in the past 19 years (and counting).

Anyhow, that’s it for this blog entry.

For what it’s worth.

Doesn't it make you want to just yank your hair out?!

Caution: This blog contains language some might find offensive.

One of the things that bugs me most is when someone comes to you, telling you about the situation they’re in, how they don’t understand why they’re in it, and that they want to be out of it, and then you tell people what they can do to make their lives better, or to get out of a predicament they’re in, they tell you you’re right…  and then they go right on doing what they’ve been doing all along…  and wonder why they situation never gets any better.

I think some people just like to bitch about their life. Seriously. They don’t REALLY want to do anything that will make things better for them; they just want someone to agree that their life sucks, is unfair, miserable, and on and on, while they go right on living the life that they want to live.

It has to be one of the most frustrating things I’ve ever experienced, and I keep ramming my head up against the same wall again and again, and I never seem to learn.

I mean, if someone I know and or care about is going through something and it’s making them miserable or unhappy, and they tell me as much, and I suggest what they can do to eliminate or at least minimize the problems, then what? Why do they insist on continuing to talk about the problem? Worse still, why do they persist in justifying WHY they are continuing to do the same thing that gets them into the problem in the first place? The obvious question is “Did you try what I suggested, to at least see if it helps?” and of course they haven’t because they think that they’ve got a better idea–and then the next thing you know, they’re back to complaining and whining about their life again.

What do ya do with people who live their lives like that? Especially when you KNOW they can have a better life…  They seem to want their cake and to eat it to. They want a better life BUT only so long as they can live their life how they want to live it.

So why do I persist in hoping for them, or in trying to help people like that? And why am I surprised when I end up disappointed, feeling used, and frustrated? Especially when I know that I can stop it by just stopping my trying to help people unless I am absolutely convinced that I wouldn’t be wasting my own energies, resources, and time assisting them. That means that THEY need to FIRST convince ME that they warrant my investment of time, energy, and resources. No more charity. No more pro-active approaches.

But even that’s hard, because I am sometimes left wondering whether a person really is hellbent on being they way they are, or they simply just can’t help it. Some people are prone to making the same mistakes or choices over and over because they just cannot make any other choice, for whatever reason–whether genetic, mental, or whatever. And no amount of effort on my part could ever change that. And that last statement is perhaps the hardest for me to swallow, because I have spent the majority of my life helping others and being their for others, and being whatever it is that they need–and in the end, I’m drained of every last ounce of energy, emotion, and thought, because I’ve expended myself so much in trying to meet OTHER people’s needs.

Still, if I’m just going to whine and bitch about it and yet do nothing to change it or to stop it from happening in my life, then I am as bad as the people I describe in this post. And I’d rather not be. So, it ends. Here. Now. Today. No more drama. No more BS. No more nonsense. I need to live MY life, whatever’s left of it.