After meeting my future husband Jeff for the first time, I knew that I was in deep trouble. Love at first sight had raised its head for the first time. His voice had followed me from years past and was now calling my heart to accept love again. I did not want this, yet now I don’t know how I ever survived without him. I am not a romantic woman, I am more of a tomboy type than anything else. He brings out the lace in me. And the quarterback, also. He allows the Christian and the shaman within me to thrive as they work together. He allows the chaos of 3 blended families to reign in his home. He embraces the strangeness of my world. He is light in the cave of my past, making it a wonderful journey in time rather than a handicap. He is a good man, and yet troubles came.

Within two weeks of my entering his life, cancer called again. As if we had been together forever he began to move my things into his home. He got us cell phones. He took over my medical bills as if they were his responsibility. He took on my son as if he were present at his birth. He listened to my history as if I should not be ashamed. All heroic things to do. But what he really did that should amaze and inspire is he took on a 15-year-old girl that neither of us knew. I had given birth to her, yes, but she had been adopted and that was that. Until she got away at 15 and found me. This incredibly beautiful lost child moved into his home and all hell broke loose. It was not the dream reunion that we had all envisioned.

She had come to us with the impression that we were biker gang party animals, druggies with beer and money to burn. She had been told these things by people who thought they knew me. None of those people were correct. I had never even been on a motorcycle, never had a beer, and owned neither drugs nor money. My only claim to fame as a wild woman is that I have tattoos and body piercings. I was a letdown of the first order. I insisted she attend school. I insisted that she not sneak young men into my home in the late hours of the night. I insisted that she wear clothing suitable for a teen. Jeff backed me up on these things and she hated us both.

In the middle of trying to reach this child that we loved, we were trying to keep me alive. We were trying to keep our teenage sons in a safe environment. We were trying to keep the electricity turned on and eat at the same time. We were dealing with the disappearance of my jewelry and CDs. We were fielding odd questions from strangers, who seemed to have been told that my daughter was being severely mistreated. They had been told this by my daughter. I could not look my community in the eye because I could hear their suspicions. Humiliation began to have physical side effects, for both Jeff and me.

Within one and a half years she had moved out, which was legal in our state. She often did not remember to give us her new address. Out of the blue in early summer 2004, she called. She was pregnant. She lived in South Dakota. She needed money and food. We went and did what we could at the time, and met the father-to-be. Judgements were made by both parties that were most likely inaccurate all the way around. We went home to await the birth.

When it came time for the baby to be born, I got to hear her enter the world. Cell phones are wonderful things! Miss Pickles arrived, and nothing since has ever been the same. Every breath I took from that day until this seemed more sacred, more life affirming. When she was 3 months old we got another call. My daughter and the father were splitting, Miss Pickles needed a place to be for a while, along with her half brother. Again Jeff showed his true self, they were welcomed into his home. A 3 month old baby girl and a 2 year old boy. We were their safety net. And still I knew nothing of Guardians of Future Generations.