Try, Try Again…

Jesus held a huge piece of my heart even before the age of four. I believe
God made this possible for me, so small but I fully understood that Jesus was my best friend. As He is now.

Yeah. If at first we don’t succeed…

I guess, when you look at it like this I have to admit that as a helpless human being with no way to protect myself or have an opinion of my own, I have to look back and even during that first year of life, I have to see God at work in my life, before I arrived as well as everything to come. The second chance was all about Him. There was no way with my luck that any good would have come out of such a situation concerning me. But, God saw to it that I was taken care of righteously in any case. Maybe that is the cause of my strong belief in God, when I was so little.







When Daddy was off on deployment, life was one way. When he was home, life was a different way. Mommy was my new Sunday school teacher, I learned to love Jesus, I just knew He was as a bright white light, too bright to see, purest of clean that you could just sense His purity, and simply humble ourselves before Him. He’s always there and He’s  always loved me and forever will care for me. God, Jesus, they would watch over my family, me and all that I cared about. This is what I learned of Jesus and God A.S.A.P.!









I remember in San Diego, dressed in my special Sunday skirt suit. Big bow around my neck to tie under my chin to give that mature, very dressed up look then you also add the little white Sunday gloves, black patent-leather shoes in the little Mary-Jane style, that also matched my tiny little patent-leather purse to hold my offering and my hankie on our Special Day. Along with that, I remember the second floor room that was darkened by the lack of larger windows and no flourescent lighting back in the early 60’s. Looking out the window down onto the street, noticing how wide the sidewalk was down in front of our church. My bible, purse and paperwork were under a chair very close to the window. I didn’t like the darkness of the room. I would sit as closely to the light that the small window would allow in, and appreciate the fact that I had a good seat for me that day. I was happy and felt at home at that young age in that Sunday school room with Mommy as my teacher.

All was good there.

 

New Home for Who?

Who, who am I? Who, who am i?

Onward toward life as I go…

I now reside in San Diego, I have received two new parents, a mommy and a daddy. They had a child to full term in the fifties but i was still born for reasons that wouldn’t happen in this day and age. My brother, who I owe a debt of gratitude to, is named Michael. I started feeling this even stronger toward Michael as I got older life got more clear as time went on. Without his precious and untimely passing, there would have been no need or desire to have me in this new home where I am now at.

My new mommy and daddy changed my name from Leilon Therese to Mary Janeen, I was issued a new birth certificate with them listed as my birth parents and my new names listed as my birth names but they didn’t change my birth date or my birthplace. I was introduced to my new daddy when he return from his 9 month deployment. But I never really got to bond with him, he did retire from the USN until 19

69. I was 9 years old by then. They couldn’t keep my original name for the first and middle names were chosen for the fact that they were meant to be named after my biological parents’ names. So, new mommy and daddy did the same thing only with initials, lol, Mary after Mommy and the J in Janeen after James for new Daddy. I was brought up from the beginning knowing the whole time that I had been adopted. Mommy always said I was special because I was hand picked. That, I didn’t just ‘happen’, I was actually ‘chosen’ and that’s what made me so special. She always stuck to that story. I never had questions, no curiosity, no wonderment. I never dreamed of ‘what if’s’ having to do with biological parents. This became ‘MY’ biggest mistake and made so

Meeting Daddy for the First Time
Sometime in early 1961 my new Daddy came home from his Deployment and he and I were able to meet each other for the first time.

Mama’s gonna buy you another day…

many and so much ‘my fault’! This whole this was a blessing beyond what you could imagine but when people get or got involved it turned into anything from being hurt badly or being grateful to a fault.

Once you realize the family dynamics of these four people and the new grandparents I’ve now acquired this will all become a lot clearer.

 

Pre-Destruct

Gosh, I wasn’t a glimmer in anyone’s eye and after a lifetime of putting everyone’s stories together, I have to say the ignorance of birth-control in the 1950’s and ’60’s was rampant. Any how, a single woman with two little girls, just two years apart, both from different father’s, and a grandmother known as Nanny made up the nucleus of half of my beginning. The other half is made up of dark secrets and emotional downfalls. Theresa Dahlberg Seitz from Wisconsin landed in Oregon, Portland to be exact. There, their family congregated and lived until they went to be with the Lord.
Theresa had her mother, a sister and brother. Dede, Theresa’s younger sister, who is now gone from us, had something in common, only thing ever that I could come up with, but funny coincidence, both sisters had their last marriages to men with the last names of ‘Jones”, so, it kind of leaves you thinking they were going by their maiden names. No, they just ended up with men that shared the same surname. Their brother, Ludwig, who went by Uncle Lucky never did or would speak to me by letter, phone, or the famous social website, so I have no opinion on this man whatsoever. But, suspicion would cloud my judgment, currently. I think maybe that’s the best. They all came west, settled into a new lif. I do know Theresa would search out seasonal work, so she then could collect unemployment in the off season, this is what I learned of Theresa, I cannot say this about Aunt Dede. But, they spent all their free time walking in Nanny’s shoes, drinking constantly. There was never a ‘let-up’. They could have lived longer, maybe they didn’t want to, I don’t know. While in Oregon, Theresa married Tina’s father, my oldest half sister, then came another husband and so did my second sister Brenda. They were about two years apart. This is actually way mixed up, my first two entries.  I’ll improve,  forgive me.