Tuesday, December 31, 2013



   There's nothing more terrible personally than suffering the death of a child...Or so I thought when a phone call November 19th told me that she was dead, cause unknown until lab results came back. Then last week the awful news that she had died of a drug overdose--OD'd on Meth, which no-one who has never tried drugs, can even imagine, including me. Then A few days later, the "My Name is Meth"--which was difficult enough to read and post. Then,-- today--comes in the mail the police report. I do not know what I expected the police report to contain, but nothing prepared me for the shock, as I rifled through the pages, of seeing my dead daughter's body lying face down, half sideways, a tube and syringe still in her hand, her long brown hair covering her dead, grey face, her blue lips, the chaos of her death a terrible thing to view. I don't know what I thought.,  but I cannot stop crying, thinking of the terrible nightmares she endured, the demonic influence of this awful, unspeakable man-concocted evil drug: For we know that Satan's plan includes drug addiction--anything---to turn the soul away from the Lord Jesus Christ. It is the last straw in the battle, in the unseen warfare-- as is homosexuality, before the soul and mind turns itself away from the Lord, and the heart hardens and, if repentance and a turning away from evil is not eminent to God with His child, He takes her Home. Prematurely, a life that might have borne fruit and flourished, a life wasted, instead.  Yet she is with Jesus, because it is His righteousness which saves, not the acts nor deeds of man. Which many cannot comprehend, but we who have studied His living Word, know to be true. So with this in mind, through my tears, I can still praise the Lord that her suffering is over, that no more will she have to endure the insults of life on the street, the abuses of mankind, the hurts of the life her stubborn will chose. Now, the flower that she would and could have been blooms in the garden of God. Forever.

Monday, December 30, 2013


I live down the street, and maybe next door.
      I'm made in a lab, but not like you think,
        I can be made under the kitchen sink--
 in your child's closet and even in the woods.
If this scares you to death, well--it certainly should.

  I have many names, but there's one you know best;
I'm sure you've heard of me, my name's Crystal Meth.
       My power is awesome; try me, you'll see....
           But if you do, you may never go free.
    Just try me once and I might let you go--
  But try me twice, and I'll own your soul.

  When I possess you, you'll steal and you'll lie;
     You do what you have to---just to get high.
  The crimes you'll commit for my narcotic charms
Will  be worth the pleasure you'll feel in your arms,
                       Your lungs, your nose.

You'll lie to your mother; you'll steal from your dad.
    When you see their tears, you should feel sad.
But you'll forget your morals and how you were raised,
    I'll be your conscience; I'll teach you my ways.

I take kids from their parents, and parents from kids,
     I turn people from God and separate friends.
I'll take everything from you--your looks and your pride--
          I'll be with you always--right by your side.

    You'll give up everything---your family, your home,
   Your friends, your money, and then you'll be alone.
I'll take and take, 'til you have nothing more to give--
  When I'm finished with you, you'll be lucky to live.

         If you try me, be warned, this is no game--
            If given the chance, I'll drive you insane.
        I'll ravage your body, I'll control your mind--
I'll own you completely--Your soul will be mine!

   The nightmares I'll give you while lying in bed--
      The voices you'll hear from inside your head.
The sweats, the shakes, and the visions you'll see--
  I want you to know these are all gifts from me.

But then it's too late, and you'll know in your heart,
         That you are mine and we shall not part.
   You'll regret that you tried me, they always do,
              But YOU came to ME, not I to You.

You knew this would happen, many times you were told,
   But you challenged my power, and chose to be bold.
      You could have said, "No" and just walked away...
 If you could live that day over, Now, what would you say?

               I'll be your master; You will be my slave,
        I'll even go with you when you go to your grave.
          Now that you have met me, what will you do?
               Will you try me or not? It's all up to you.

        I can bring you more misery than words can tell,
           Come take my hand, let me lead you to hell.

             I'll be your master; You will be my slave,
       I'll even go with you when you go to your grave.
        Now that you have met me, what will you do?
             Will you try me or not? It's all up to you.

      I can bring you more misery than words can tell,
       Come, Take my hand---Let me Lead you to Hell.
                                   Amber Harris

(A note from the author: I hope that when you want to use, you'll remember this poem and think about how maybe at first you feel better but how in the end it never turns out right. I wish you the best of luck on staying clean.     Amber Harris)

       Reposted by Norma A.Vincent. Found in the stack of papers in one of my dead daughter's folders
a month after she OD'd on Meth, which she always HATED. Still want to try it? Go online, look up BEFORE and AFTER Meth pictures. The AFTER is what she looked like months before she died.

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Just A Housewife

               Sheri Beth Heisey Bickmore
         August 8, 1960   November 19, 2013

             Found in her treasures yesterday:

              Just A Housewife

                      Pet Doctor
               Interior Design
          Travel Arrangements
          Child Care, Nutrition
             Food Preparation
                        Animal Care
                      Detailed Work
                   Follow Through
                Money Management
                           Financial Planning
                      Communication Skills
              Small Appliance Repair
                           (Machine Manual Skills)
                   Coordinating and Scheduling
                                Referring, Budgeting
                         Intuitional/ Innovating Skills
                                         Morale Builder
                                                     Bible Teacher


Saturday, December 21, 2013

And Then There Were Three, by N.A.Vincent

    When she was a little girl, the Monster lived in the bathroom of the airplane carrying us to Guam, where her daddy was stationed. She refused stubbornly to confront the dragon in that little cubbyhole.
Everything was ok for that time we spent there, until it was time to take the Flying Tigers shuttle to Hawaii; the plane bumped and ground its way through turbulent weather, and finally, another to the States. To her the Monster still lived in the bathroom of that plane. She was fine as long as the Bathroom was inside a normal house, but up jumped the Monster again in Missouri. We relocated to a beautiful old Farmhouse with no bathroom, not even an outhouse. She was terrified of the Monster that lived in these places.
      Gradually, though, our girl toughened and shaped into the person she would be. She was our Firstborn, a little different, a little slow in some things, but her own self, her own person now. By this time there were four, the youngest a bratty, adventurous boy kid, but then, in a family of Independents, only what you'd expect. Each unique, sisters who grew to love each other and their little brother. They could ride,  swim in a snake-and snapping-turtle infested pond, boldly march forth towards whatever life was going to hand them: The day she came home yanking the Morgan mare behind her, madder than a hornet that she had been thrown. The day of the horse show, when thunder, lightning and rain meant a hard, fast gallop for home a mile away for the three girls: the day the cottonmouth raised up in the creek and the Fearless One ignored Mom and had to wade in closer "to see". Always the funny one in class, miming the teachers, getting a laugh and disrupting everything. Galloping out to pasture with her miniature classmate, David, ignoring the huge bull, David on his pony and she on her horse. A military brat, a gypsy. Passing the years with outrageous stunts and actions, not setting a good example for the younger ones of her clan, then, Daddy going away and the home left to be rebuilt by Mom. Carting up the goats, the chickens, the dogs and cats and headin' off to Washington.
    In those days, then, six became five: three sisters, a boy, and their Mom. To Mom, there were Four, because she was Mom.
    No more Monsters then, for awhile.
    She wanted to be loved, this Firstborn. All she wanted was to be loved. She knew God loved her, because Christ had saved her those years ago, but she didn't know we loved her, too. And somehow we could never get her to see that she was one of us, and that we loved her.
    Then, marriage and a little girl born. She thought he loved her fiercely like she loved him. He did not. She thought her best friend loved her. And that was not true, either. Her smile faded. Less frequently now. Still she kept on keepin' on, tried to make do when he went behind her back and for two years cheated on her with the wonderful best friend. Then, disaster; the babies of the two families became victims of two dirty ol' men. The cheating husband divorced her, the one dirty ol' man divorced the best friend and the husband of the Firsborn married the cheating best friend, and took her baby away from her--two families destroyed. By the Monsters, Cheating, Lying, Adultery.
     How much more could she take?  She thought she'd found love again, but little did she know that once again a Monster was lurking in the bushes of her life. First, his offspring was called Booze, and Booze visited every chance he could get, making room for Daddy. There was this wonderful man who loved her, and so she began to know they would live happily ever after. The Monster showed itself, ugly, unforgiving, its appetite voracious and insatiable. They called him Meth, and he was made to destroy the lives of all he gobbled up. First he took her man, who became a Changling, a Monster in himself, whom she did not know, a raging Monster who wrapped a blanket around her  one night in the deep woods while she slept in their trailer --and tried to squeeze her to death. Our girl fought for her life and he dropped her, grabbing up a butcher knife while she ran out the back door. Thank God she did not have it blocked, as it usually was. Down the slippery path to the creek she ran, across the plank bridge she scurried, up the steep path in the dark night, fleeing for her life; Reaching the other trailer where people lived just in the nick of time. Hidden by them from him: They lied and told him she was not there. But she loved him fiercely and cried over his loss. And cried. And wrote love poems to him, that she did not send. And cried. And her heart broke.
     But still she loved him. She lied in court and said he had not tried to kill her. Because she loved him. She did not want her love to go to prison.
     It was the beginning of the end, the last straw. Our firstborn battled the Monster and all his evil little children by herself. She was not one to open her huge package of problems to the world. She was slipping. She had no home. She collected all she had from "The Free Box". Before the eyes of her family, she was going. No more sparkle in her eyes. The light dimmed. The life died. Before our very eyes she was gone, left with only an empty shell of the lively spirit of The Firstborn. She fought her battles alone, finally able to get a home again, her own. She was happy again. But we did not know that she was chained, that The Monster had enveloped her, that he was grabbing all she had and would not let go. We did not know that she only had a short time now until she stepped into Eternity.
      So there were Four, two sisters and a brother who loved her, and kept wanting her to be happy but not knowing how to help her be happy, or even whether or not she needed help being happy.
     She was going to be a grandma, and so happy. All the while the Monster in subtle, silent stealth crept up on her, she unaware, or unable now to control the raging beast. Time was closing in on her.
The Grim Reaper thought he had her, but at the last minute the Lord snatched her up and carried her away in a brilliance of white clouds and happiness, and incredible light far more brilliant than any star, sun, or moon, carried her to her Forever Home, where never again would she know the pain nor the sorrow of being rejected, unwanted, unloved. Where never again the Monster's horrible claws could reach and ensnare.
      Sometime in the early morning hours of November 19, in the year 2013, our Firstborn rose to meet the Lord in His dwelling place, carried up beyond the highest stars, to the arms of the Lord.
    And then, there were Three.

Friday, December 6, 2013

The Valley of Shadows

    Yeah, though I walk through the valley....of the shadow of death....I will fear no evil.
      THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD,   I shall not be in want
   He makes me to lie down in green pastures........
He leads me beside
          the still waters.
He Restores My Soul.........
     He guides me in the paths of
    for His Name's Sake
Yeah......Even though I walk
      through The Valley
Of The Shadow of Death,
I will fear No Evil,
    For Thou, God, art With Me
Thy Rod and Thy Staff
       comfort me.
You prepare a table before
In the Presence of
    Mine Enemies.
You anoint my head
     with oil;
My cup Runneth Over.
Goodness and Mercy
   shall follow me
All the Days of my Life
   And I Will Dwell
In The House of the Lord

As for Me and My House
    We will
Serve the Lord.
the enemy rages
and roars and
   seeks whom
he may devour
We shall not fall,
Nor shall we fail,
Nor shall harm come
      to us,
Though we die and pass
    unto Life Eternal,
The enemy shall be
Death hath been swallowed up
      in victory--
Where, Oh Death,
    is thy Victory--
Where, Oh Death,
    is thy Sting?
But Thanks be to God!
   Who gives us the Victory though
Our Lord Jesus Christ!

Now we know we shall see our
    Beloved One Again.
     She does Not Sleep
         But Lives!!
         She Lives!!
 In the Precious, Glorious
    Realm of the Kingdom
     Which is our
       Eternal Home.
......In loving Memory
        of Sheri