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IGNITED BY TRUTH (CHAPTER 7)
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY BY KAYLEE TUCKER
(with Karen Burkett)

Kaylee speaks from the heart as she tells of the pain of sexual abuse, domestic violence and depression and how she found joy, hope, peace and forgiveness through the darkness.

Table of Contents

Section I: Beginnings
Chapter One - First Memories (reflections)
Chapter Two - The Comfort of Love (reflections)
Chapter Three - A Summer of Family Love (reflections)

Section II: The Unraveling
Chapter Four - A Living Nightmare (reflections)
Chapter Five - Traumatic Teen Years (reflections)

Section III: A Gradual Awakening
Chapter Six - God's Unending Love (reflections)
Chapter Seven - Drawing the Line (reflections)
Chapter Eight - More Changes (reflections)
Chapter Nine - The Welfare Walk (reflections)
Chapter Ten - Dreams Really Can Come True (reflections)
Chapter Eleven - Forgetting What Lies Behind (reflections)
Chapter Twelve - Jesus-the Only Way (reflections)

Collection of reflections from all chapters red line

CHAPTER 7: DRAWING THE LINE

Jordon and I both wanted another baby. About three months after moving to the smaller apartment, I became pregnant. My husband had been attempting a pot-growing adventure that didn't work, and money was tight. He then began to sell cocaine. I told him he would have to leave if he wanted to sell drugs, so he moved in with his mom. I sometimes visited him and spent the night. On one of these nights, he told me he wanted to move back in with me. I told him he needed to quit taking and selling drugs. He raged, "What do you want, a divorce?" He threw me against the wall and slapped me around, punching me in my pregnant stomach.

"I'm leaving," I screamed as I ran into the bathroom and locked the door. Meanwhile, he went outside and took the points plug off the distributor cap so the car wouldn't start. As I ran outside to get into the car, he came after me with a baseball bat and started to bash in the windshield and hood of the car.

"I'm going to call the cops. Someone, call the cops!" I screamed.

"No one will help you, bitch!" Jordon shouted.

I ran back into the house and called 911. This was the first time in five years of abuse that I had called the police. Jordon ran and hid somewhere while I waited for the police. They arrived and drove Stephanie and me to a nearby restaurant, where I called my sister Ashton to pick us up. Although I had never told any of my family about the abuse, at this point I had no choice. I told Ashton what was happening, and from that point on she helped me and encouraged me to get out of the situation. She would call me up and invite me to go with her to run an errand or go out shopping. This gave me a much-needed break-I was always ready to get out of the house and see some friendly faces. Later after Jordon and I moved to Colorado, Ashton would send me encouraging cards with desperately needed money. I never asked her for help; she always seemed to know when to step in. She was a good friend and sister. She never forgot a birthday card for my kids or me. Knowing I was strong enough to live as a single parent, she wanted me to leave Jordon, but only I could make the change. I had to want it deep inside and then do something about it, not just talk about it.

That night after the police took Stephanie and me to the restaurant to wait for Ashton, some nice person bought us each a soda and offered us some food. By the time Ashton arrived, I knew it was time to leave Jordon. I was finished with him. I packed up some things, and Ashton took us to my girlfriend's house, where I thought we'd be safe. Jordon knew where all my brothers and sisters lived, but I didn't think he knew where Danielle and Nathan lived. Somehow he did. He came knocking on the door. I told Danielle not to answer. Jordon started shouting through the door and begging me to come back to him. He said if I didn't leave with him that night, he would burn my friends' house down and bash all their car windows out.

Danielle's husband came home and got rid of Jordon for a while. For the first time, I called a shelter. Crying, I told them why I had to go into hiding. They told me to drive to a designated hotel that was located in the bay area. They would pay the lodging fee, and someone would call me in the morning.

The next day, I met with the people from the shelter at a nearby restaurant. Then I followed them to the shelter, taking side streets and back alleys to make sure no one was following us. At the shelter, they took Stephanie and me to a room that we shared with another woman and her children. They provided counseling and three meals a day. I was very uncomfortable and prayed a lot for the first time since becoming a Christian. We were able to stay at the shelter for up to three months, but after only two weeks, Jordon saw us in court and begged me to come home. He promised not to hit me again and handed me a huge ten-page letter of "I'm sorry" and "I will never hurt you again." This was the first time he had actually admitted to hitting me, so I forgave him.

The reconciliation didn't last long-soon Jordon and I separated again. He was done with me, and I was finished with him. I really believed this was our final separation. I had a restraining order on him, but he would wait outside the legal boundary, and the second I crossed that line, he would begin to harass me.

Our wonderful son, Christopher, was born in March of 1983. I was two weeks late and thought I would never deliver. While I was sleeping one night, I felt a slap like someone hitting me on my behind. I thought it was an angel saying, "Get up; it's time." Jordon and I were still separated at the time. When I went into labor, I called him to be there for the birth. He and his friend, both stoned on pot, drove me to the hospital.

Jordon was still trying to make a million dollars growing pot or gambling. With two children to care for, I became increasingly concerned about finances. Jordon did not want me to work, but I decided to get a job so I could support our two children. I made plans to apply at Winchell's doughnut house that was located in walking distance to our apartment.

My sister-in-law Cat, worked at Payless Food in Mt View, along with a really nice man named Lloyd, who years before had thrown doughnut dough at my sister and me as we pressed our noses against the glass, watching him make doughnuts. When I filled out an employment application to work at Winchell's, Lloyd was the one who interviewed me. We began to talk and I found out that he was the baker from Payless Food. I noticed that while we were talking, my kids accidentally got some jelly from the doughnut they were eating on the application. I couldn't wipe the stain off, so I drew two circles like a doughnut around it. Lloyd thought that was cute, and my little bit of ingenuity helped me get the job.

Lloyd and I were friends for many years after I left Winchell's. Whenever we wrote a note to each other, we would add a little drawing of a doughnut.

I had moved back into the Riley's house in exchange for cleaning and cooking and was waiting to be accepted into a low-income housing project nearby. (This was the family I had babysat for years before.) One day Lauren Riley let me use her car to drive to work at Winchell's, and I stopped into a Jack-in-the-Box to eat. While I was in the drive-through line waiting for my food, Jordon barged into the back seat and took Stephanie from her car seat. I started screaming. My car was jammed between two other cars and I couldn't get out of the drive through to follow Jordon. After beeping my horn repeatedly, the car in front of me finally moved. I sped out of the parking lot and quickly caught up with Jordon. I rammed his car with mine over and over again, screaming at him to pull over. Finally, he did.

"Give me my daughter right now!" I screamed. Jordon was aghast-I just opened his car door and took Stephanie. He got out and stood there in shock looking at his mother's brand new white car with all of the dents. Of course, my friend's car was a mess too, but she just said, "I can replace my bumper. You did the right thing."

One more time

About a month after the Jack-in-the-Box incident, Jordon invited us over to his Mom's for Christmas. I thought we should go because I wanted the kids to have a dad and a family for Christmastime. While we were there, Jordon's friend Frank called from Denver and asked if Jordon could move into his house. He claimed to have a beautiful $150,000 home and a job for Jordon.

Praise the Lord, I thought. I hope he does move to Colorado and leave us alone. He moved that next week.

Jordon called me often to tell me how nice it was in Colorado. When he first arrived, he was very disappointed to learn that the house was actually a dump, and there was no job. But the wonderful news was that he had accepted Jesus Christ as his personal Lord and Savior. A true miracle! After praying, I felt the Lord calling me to go and try one last time. This was the sixteenth time breaking up, going back together, and breaking up again.

Stephanie, Christopher and I arrived in Denver in late January 1984. It was a beautiful day with the sun shining and fresh snow on the ground. Jordon and his pastor picked us up at the airport.

All I had brought were our clothes and a few belongings-about eighteen boxes. Somehow, six boxes were lost with most of my clothes and all of my jackets and coats. While we were driving to our new home, I noticed Jordon seemed different. His eyes were bright and inquisitive, his nails were a nice length-not all chewed off-and he was actually having a conversation with me. He seemed happy for the first time since I had known him.

My heart sank when I saw the shack we were to live in. Lord, I know you provided this, but it is a dump. The house was falling apart and the roof leaked. It was dirty. The man who had invited us to this $150,000 home had lied to us. He was Jordon's friend and best man at his first marriage. Confined to a wheelchair, he was a very bitter and angry, unforgiving veteran.

On our first night there, I wrote a song for Jordon in about three minutes: "Expecting a Miracle." It's a song about being born again.

Two weeks after the children and I arrived, Frank died in a local hospital.

Here we were. No money and no job. The pastor was the only person we knew. And two children to care for. How would we eat? How would we take over the rent payments? Humanly speaking, these things were impossible, but with God all things are possible. Jordon said he wanted to stick it out and trust Jesus. We knew we needed to expect another miracle.

We contacted the owners of the house we were living in and informed them of Frank's death. We explained that we had just moved in and had no money to pay the rent. Frank had already paid the rent through February-we told the landlords we'd be out by the end of February. Another miracle: the homeowners were Christians and said we could stay there as long as it took to get on our feet. Jordon got a job in two weeks, and we were able to make the March payment.

All this time, I kept giving glory to God, and He continued taking such good care of us. He sent help from all directions. My friend Lloyd from Winchell's sent money, although I'd never asked for it. My sisters would send money, always just in the nick of time. We received notes and "I miss you" cards with $10, $20 and even $100 enclosed. Neighbors asked us over for dinner or bought us groceries when we had nothing to eat. I had not asked for this help from anyone. These people were not even Christians!

I learned from our landlords that the husband was a former abuser, but Jesus had helped him overcome his anger. This brought me renewed hope.

Jordon's new job was with a trucking company in Arvada, Colorado, and everything was going great. We were both Christians and going to church at every opportunity. God was meeting our needs, and we were happier than we had ever been.

The church Jordon had been attending was a nice Baptist church, but it was a little too much "fire and brimstone" for me. The people did help us out a lot and were instrumental in helping Jordon find his first job in Colorado, but I really hoped we could find a church we would all be more comfortable in. I prayed and prayed about finding another church within walking distance because we didn't have a car. I didn't want to hurt Jordon's feelings, so I said these prayers privately.

Another downhill slide

But then we began a downhill slide. Slowly, Jordon started straying away from the Lord and church. First, he'd miss one Sunday here and one Sunday there. Then he quit going on Wednesday nights, and soon he stopped going to church altogether.

After church on Sundays, I would walk, pushing the two kids in one stroller. We stopped at a local restaurant where the kids shared a kids' breakfast special for 99 cents, and I had coffee and ate what the children left on their plates. Walking home, I would pass an old building that looked as though it had been a church at one time, but I didn't think much about it. Then one Sunday after church and breakfast, I walked past this old Nazarene church and saw people in a building in the back. I was too shy to barge in on their fellowship lunch, so I went in the front of the church and picked up a bulletin, thinking, I'm going to try this church.

I did, and the kids and I loved it! Another miracle.

Jordon thought I was way off base and wanted me to continue going to the Baptist church. I said I would if he would go with me, so he did a couple of times. But it did not last, and so I started going to the Nazarene church on Sunday morning, Sunday night and every Wednesday and was thriving on the Word. I was alive again!

I continued going to this Nazarene church for the next four years. In the meantime, my husband drifted further and further from the Lord. He began hanging around people who loved drugs. He started smoking pot and cigarettes again and staying out very late at night.

I feel Jordon had not been deeply rooted in the Word of God, so instead of growing in his Christian walk, he began to backslide. He returned to doing drugs. We argued more and more each day-mostly over the fact that he was never home. Every time we argued, I told him I wanted a divorce. He would get furious, push me around and slap me. I would tell him to get out of the house. Every time we broke up, I would get on welfare and food stamps.

Then Jordon started getting really sick and was diagnosed with Type II diabetes. We went back on welfare and food stamps, and I started going to school. Jordon began to hate Colorado. He complained that the weather was too cold, and he insisted that he wanted to move back to California. In fact, he wanted me to give him all of my welfare check so he could fly back to California and live. When I refused, he began to hit me and choke me. I thought that he was surely going to kill me this time. As I was blacking out, I remember thinking, Jesus, what should I do? Why are you letting him hurt me again? I had a thought to say my daughter's name. I whispered "Stephanie" while he was choking me; he suddenly threw his hands back. My two kids, ages five and three, ran up to us and began to hit their daddy-one with a broom and one with a mop.

Jordon stopped the physical attack, but he still insisted that I give him the welfare check so he could fly back to California without us. He had never wanted me to go to school. I only had two semesters left to finish and thought we could all move back to California after my graduation. Jordon did not want to wait. Immediately after the choking attack, I called my pastor, and I was hysterical. He and his wife already knew about the problems we had been having, so he came right over. I told him what Jordon wanted me to do, explaining that if I gave Jordon the money, I would not be able to pay the rent. The pastor wanted Jordon to leave, so he gave him the travel money out of his own pocket.

Previously, I had received counseling from several pastors regarding the abuse. All of them had insisted I must stay in this abusive situation and pray for the Lord to change Jordon. When Pastor Dan now provided his own money for Jordon to leave, I couldn't believe it. I had never heard of a pastor recommending a tough love action of separating from the situation until both parties could get some counseling. I will always appreciate his help. Jordon never returned to Colorado, and he filed for divorce two years later. He hated God and me. I never wanted a divorce, but it seemed at this point that I had no choice.

And now it was finally time for me to begin again-without Jordon.

REFLECTIONS (Chapter 7)

"Even when you are chased by those who seek your life, you are safe in the care of the LORD your God, secure in his treasure pouch!" (1 Samuel 25:29).

"Do not make friends with a hot-tempered man, do not associate with one easily angered, 25 or you may learn his ways and get yourself ensnared" (Proverbs 22:24 NIV).

Through these years of abuse, I finally learned how important it is to report abuse. If you are living in an abusive situation, tell someone, anybody-a friend, a family member, the police. Be bold enough to leave. Don't tell the abuser you want a divorce or kick him out of your home. And do not let on that you are leaving, as this only creates rage. Just go and seek a safe house. Get some counseling immediately, and above all, pray!

There are danger signs of abusive tendencies you can watch for in your relationship: jealousy of everything, controlling behavior, isolation, blaming everyone but himself for all of the problems, getting upset easily, cruelty to animals, insensitivity, abusive playfulness, verbal abuse, sudden mood swings and unpredictable behavior, past history of abuse, threats of violence, breaking your precious items and using force during an argument.

You may find that you tend to push away from the abuser even though you love him. You may try to retaliate when you are hurting because the person you love is hurting you, and you want him to hold you and tell you everything is going to be all right.

If you are involved with an abuser, he typically will not like your family or friends. He won't want you to improve your lifestyle by doing such things as getting more education.

If you are in an abusive situation and want to work it out, I suggest you read Dr. James Dobson's book Love Must Be Tough. I began reading this book believing that no Christian would suggest that I separate from the abuse. The book taught me that I could separate myself from the man and his violence to give us both opportunity to seek Christian counseling that can lead to real changes, not just empty promises of "I have changed" or "I will change." Real change only comes with a change of heart through Jesus Christ. If your partner says he has changed, look for consistency and evidence of the fruit of the Spirit.

The words quoted from Samuel were originally spoken to Israel, God's chosen people. But now, if you have received Jesus, you are His chosen child. He loves you; in fact, you are his treasure! He will protect you. This does not mean He wants you to be foolish and just sit there and take the abuse. It means He wants you to trust Him to help you make the right choices, to do things His way in love, and He will be your shield and protector. You are NEVER alone. Jesus is with you every step of the way.

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Feel free to email me with any questions / comments at changinglives74@yahoo.com.au
by addressing your email to Kaylee.

red line © Copyright 17 May 2005
Taken from the web site www.changinglivesonline.org
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