I thought everyone might enjoy revisiting some of my old writings, from this time last year, while I’m caught up in completing my book. I had fun reading through it and thought you might, as well! I can see where my writing style has improved since last year, but I left these historical documents unaltered. Don’t laugh! If one thinks on it long enough, that’s what they are, really. Well, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it!

Enjoy…

Investigating Truths

By Toni Swartz

Episode 1

I have been sitting here, staring at my own idle fingers on the keyboard, and watching the little clock down in the corner of screen.  It is now almost 7:30 am, and I have been sitting here since just before 5, but I have been awake since 2.  All my life, sleep and I have not been very good bedfellows.  Whether it is a bad dream, or maybe just an overthinking mind, sometimes I feel like it is more frustrating to try to sleep, than to just get up! 

I think that more times than not, getting up and writing out what’s going on, brings me peace.  The sad part is, even after I write and feel better, I am still pooped.  I might as well keep writing, because I cannot go back to bed until tonight, or I will mess my whole sleep cycle up.

So, what has kept sleep at bay for me?  I’m glad you asked.  Well, let’s see now, I think it started about 3 or 4 days ago.  Have you ever had times where you just feel like you are invisible?  Like there are so many souls moving around you, but eyes are vacant?  I had come home from an activity that was packed with people, and I should have felt happy, but climbing in to bed that night, I honestly felt like not one of those people would ever remember my name or even my face. 

No harm no foul…no one did anything wrong; I simply mean that I felt like it was just a bunch of souls all caught up in their own stresses and struggles that most were just too exhausted to really try to make any real or enriching connection.

Anyway, I just felt a bit deflated, as I rarely stray far from my home to interact with anyone, and once again, it was just an unfulfilling attempt at connecting with others…  I had been feeling disappointed ever since going out, when we got a knock on our RV door that next evening. 

When I opened the door, there was this girl, just standing there looking at me with a look that I cannot explain.  It was enough, though, to draw me completely out the door and down the steps to speak eye to eye with her.  I am going to share some things with you, and you may make your own suppositions from there.  I cannot say how old she was, but my best guess was late teens, early 20’s but that’s the best I can do.  When I first came out of the door, she had a cigarette in her hand, and she asked if I had any more.  I explained that I had given it up a ways back, and she immediately put hers out and gently picked up the cigarette butt and placed it in her pocket.  I remember asking her if she was alright, but here is where it gets fuzzy…What I thought she said was, “You are just like me, you know what it’s like, right?”  her voice was so small that I had to lean in to listen better.  She pointed to my husband’s work truck and said that she stopped at our home because maybe we could give her work.  My heart ached for her, as I had no easy answers or fixes.  I gave her directions of where to find shelter and food, but I just felt like that was no consolation. 

Then I just thought, I See You! And, well, my dinner is sitting right inside.  I begged her to stay there while I went and gathered what I could.  I truly thought she would be gone when I got back, but she still stood rooted to the spot behind the truck where I had left her.  Please don’t judge me, but all I had was a cheese sandwich and some sliced watermelon.  I felt stupid.  She looked up at me with such a grateful smile, I felt as if I had given her a steak from the Outback or something.  She accepted the food, thanked me sweetly, and simply disappeared.  I haven’t seen her since.  Looking back, I pondered a few things. 

First of all, at no point did she ever ask me for money.  In these times, we all just expect it!  They are going to beg for money, then if you do not have it, but offer food, they will just take off.  She did none of these things.  Could she have been a drug user, an alcoholic, or maybe a prostitute, possibly?  Does it matter?  Should it matter?  I don’t think so.  I feel like God was telling me to just give and let Him worry about the rest.  Why does my ability to share anything God gives me, hinge on whether I think it is deserved.  Not sure that is in the Good Book anywhere! 

Secondly, I have been stymied by her statement about me being just like her and knowing what it was like.  I have gone back over it in my mind, and I am now not even sure she said it.  Did I hear her say it?  Did God say it in my mind?  She could not know of my cultural origins…I am not even sure what I am.  She could not have known that I spent many years of my youth on the streets.  How could she know what I had sacrificed to stay alive.  No one does fully, myself included, because survival instincts sometimes require us to block and/or forget that which was needed for the surviving.

For most it may seem trivial, but for me…I am left feeling like God brought someone directly to my door and knew I would obey.  I am not tooting my own horn, trust me, I am trying to say that it was major because I am rigid, stubborn, distrustful, and willful.  It took God a lot of confidence and faith in me, to send her to my door. 

Was she the reason I had been called in from the wilderness by my Father?  I have a tendency to find more comfort and solace in the desert than I do around society…

 That, however, is something for the next episode of Investigating Truths!