Letters From Heaven: The Accidental Child

Angelica Angelique "Gelibean" Snowden's life was no different than any other child's. Her mother adored her, her grandmother could hardly bear the sight of her, her uncle wanted her out of the picture altogether; and a woman who didn't know her at all, was unnerved by the presence of her! You see? A normal dysfunctional family! Not only was her birth unwelcomed, her very conception was a crime! And, thus, you have the premise for LETTERS FROM HEAVEN.

But, let's examine this for a moment. Can you imagine a child being born under such complicated circumstances into such a complex family? It sounds like a book just waiting to be written, doesn't it? Well, guess what? It is a book, and I wrote it!

The fact is, children are born under such circumstances into these situations every single day! If born in Africa this way, the child and the mother may be put out to fend for themselves. Or, the child may be left by the side of the road to die! If this happened in China, the young mother would be expected to commit suicide to "save face," to avoid bringing shame on the family, though she had no control over the shame brought on her own person. Again, in Iran, the mother and the child might very well be put to death; whereas, in Malaysia, the child might very well be sold (along with her young mother) into domestic or--even worse--prostitution slavery. But, what happens to the man in all of this? He blames the woman for his crime--she came on to him, she flirted with him, she showed too much shoulder, etc.  He barely gets a slap on the wrist (if anything at all), while the young mother (and the child, if it's allowed to live) suffers lifelong rejection and/or abandonment from their family and lifelong shame, if not outright death!

Luckily for Angelica, she had a mother who loved her with her very life! In fact, she loved her beyond life! And, no, this isn't a vampire or ghost story! It is simply a love story of an unbreakable bond between a mother and her daughter that is absolutely out of this world!

Angelica was fortunate enough to have been born an extremely bright child; yet, unfortunate enough to have been born to a family who'd rather she'd not been born at all; except for her mother (who was a 15 year old Catholic without a husband), raised in an aristocratic household in the old south in the 50's. Are you getting the picture?

Now, to add pudding to the pie: Angelica was born of rape and of another race to a mother who was sent away (to get rid of her); only to return nine months later with her in her arms. Can you imagine the shock to Angelica's grandmother? And as the Old Dame would put it, "....a horse of a different color!" I mean, we're talking rape, old money, old south...I do believe you get the picture! Now, get this picture: Angelica's mother will die within a few years of her birth! WHAT IS ONE TO DO?!

Even after Angelica's mother dies, her grandmother, Grand Myra, will continue for years to come to stoically dismiss her presence as if she was a mere apparition; her young uncle would seek to rid the family of her at every turn; and a woman who was first fearful of her presence (but who learned to love her every bit as much as her mother did) became her strong tower.

In spite of all the obstacles presented because of her daughter--and because of life, itself--Ava Lorraine (Angelica's mother) would stop at nothing to give her daughter the most love and the best life that any mother could give...even if it cost her her life! And, you know what, that's the kind of love every mother should give her child! And, don't misunderstand me...I mean EVERY CHILD!

A child doesn't have a say in how he or she enters into this world; they have no say in how they are conceived...none say at all! Those of you who believe in abortions, then that's your belief. It's NOT my belief, but I'm not knocking your belief. This is what I am knocking...that women wait until the 5th and 6th month to have an abortion! You're not going to convince me that you don't have some idea of what you're putting that human being inside of you through at that point...the TORTURE, plain and simple. You might convince yourself in the earlier months that it's just a "fetus" and not a human being, but at the 5th month and on....go somewhere with that nonsense!

What I really want to talk about though, is this...The Accidental Child, if there is such a thing. On earth, yes...maybe. But, to God...their are NO ACCIDENTS...not PEOPLE accidents. If you're here, He meant for you to be here! But, I'm not going to preach to you, either. What I want to do is to encourage you to think about that child that you might consider an accident.

Mothers won't admit this, but they tend to treat these children just a little bit different than their other children (if they have other ones). Some parents are just downright abusive and cruel to these children; others just not very warm or tender to them...cool, distant. If you think these children aren't aware of how they're treated versus the other children, they are: They are very aware. And, they will become--in turn--one of two ways when they are adults: Either overly protective and giving, or very distant and aloof. The first one tends to over-compensate for what they lacked in life growing up, and the other will withdraw affection and become very selfish; possibly, even cruel and abusive to both their mate and their children.

Every child has the right to be loved: Every single one! I don't know what boils my blood more than to see someone harm, neglect, or mistreat (in any form or fashion) an innocent child who cannot fend for themselves; who's not strong enough to ward off an aggressor. And, it doesn't always have to be abuse. It can be something as simple as not assisting them with their homework, leaving them frustrated and feeling alone because no one will help them. Then, the next day in school, they don't really know what to tell the teacher when she asks why he or she doesn't have his or her homework, because children are afraid to tell on their parents, and will possibly get in trouble at home if they do. Which, of course, puts them between a rock and a hard place. Countless of children are in this predicament and, yet, the teachers act as if they don't know and blame the kids! Are you serious?

And, how about the kid that struggles so hard to get the grades on his own because the parent at home refuses to help (though he'd better not ever tell his teacher that!), and when he get an award, with all the parents taking turns going up and standing with their child; except, this one parent who decides all of a sudden, she doesn't feel like it, and the child is left standing alone! I call that passive-aggressive abuse! This child is left feeling alone and inadequate and is ALWAYS trying to win his/her parent's approval that he/she will NEVER receive!

Parents, children are fragile: We can make them or break them; mold them, shape them, and help them to be the best part of our society! But, it is up to us. We can't keep blaming them for things that are not their fault, no matter how painful that "thing" or "incident" was, even if they were a "part" of that "incident."

Can I be for real for a moment? If this is going to be the case, then give the child up for adoption so that a loving parent, someone who can't have a child but wants one, someone who's more than willing to love the one you don't want! Listen, if the child came about via rape, etc., no one is going to blame you for making an alternative choice. I'm simply saying: Don't give birth, keep the child, and then make him/her pay for what happened to you for the rest of his/her life. Do what's right for the both of you and just let him/her go!

LETTERS FROM HEAVEN is a book about an "accidental child" whose mother's love carried her through the many trials of life, long after her mother's death. It is a book that speaks to the heart of every mother who's given birth under questionable and difficult circumstances, but with a vision of triumph; to women (sisters, aunts, grandmother, etc.) who need a fresh perspective on how to love and live again--even on how to forgive; to teens searching for their identity only to find it where they began--at the heart of their family where it's always been; and to those (men and women, alike) seeking hope and faith in the midst of pain, trials, and unbelief...realizing that where there's hope, there's a future.

Though part of this title is The Accidental Child, I still stand firm that no child is truly an accident; maybe, in term of how he/she came to be in our society; but surely, not in the eyes of God. And, in all honesty, once the average mother sees that child (however the conception came about), it will not be that easy for her to let her child go, which is why most mothers in this situation chooses not to look at the child after birth. They know...they know the mother instincts are going to kick in, and they don't want that to happen, and chances are...once they see that baby, it's a done deal...baby is going home with mom.

If, by some strange chance, you're reading this and your child was conceived in a manner not of your choosing, consider the things I've said here: Children will love you with their lives; they just want to be loved back. They are innocent of any wrong doing; and if given a chance, they will more than make it up to you. Just open your heart...open your life...open your LOVE...AND LET IT FLOW! Love that little person with ALL your heart, with all your might, and with all your soul. I promise you...I PROMISE YOU, THAT LITTLE ONE WILL MATCH YOUR LOVE...

LOVE FOR LOVE!

From Tragedy to Fiction...Lemonade Maker!

Letters From Heaven was born out of a tragedy that took place more than thirty years ago. I was a young mother with a house full of small children and an absent husband (real talk, truth time!). Due to my separation and financial situation, I suffered severe and deep depression. Nevertheless, I had little people depending on me: I didn’t have time for a “breakdown” or depression. And, if you know anything about the Christian community, they expect you to just “smile” and get over it, as though Christians aren’t suppose to have feelings like everyone else! In addition to this, I had taken on college and was in my sophomore year, so I truly didn’t have time for depression: I fought it tooth and nail! Now, here it was summer, I was alone (my husband was with someone else), and I was lost in my bedroom and couldn’t seem to get it together, no matter how hard I tried. I didn’t have a mother who cared, I had a mother-in-law who meant well in her advice, but was sometimes wish-washy (one moment she'd say take him back, don't let someone else have him; the next moment she'd say, kick him out and don't let him back in until he gets his act together), and my grandfather was too old for me to burden with these kind of problems (I thought)...was so alone! So, I hid away in my bedroom…away from my children, away from myself, away from the world! I hated living in this darkness, but I couldn’t get out; I couldn’t shake it off! My children would come and peep at me. My oldest daughter would bring me coffee and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which I couldn’t eat; my oldest son would bring me hot tea and buttered toast. This went on for about a month, with my older children watching over the younger ones: Keeping them clean and feeding them. I watched and monitored their activity from my bedroom. Listen, I know how bad this all sounds; I know how dreadful it all was…I know because it was my life, and I was barely living it! And, the fact that my children were living it with me was ripping me apart! And, yes, I was praying! I prayed feverishly all this time, like my life depended on it, but my prayers seemed to go unheard…unanswered…ignored, even. Of course, God never ignores you, but life can make it seem that way at times!

I’ve always prided myself on being a strong person (believe me, you have no idea [but, that’s another book…wink, wink!]), so on Saturday, June, 30, 1979 (after a month of severe, debilitating depression) I forced myself to bathe, dress, do my hair; get my children clean, fed, and dressed, and set out to visit some relatives we hadn’t seen in a while and go to the Park, which I really wasn't up for, but knew the children needed. Unfortunately, we never made it to the park. During a stop at my mother’s house (whom I was never very close to, but not because I didn’t want to be…again, another story for another time!), my son (who was 3 yrs. 8 mos. old) was hit and killed by a speeding car that had failed to stop at the stop sign at the corner before proceeding. It must have taken the medics half and hour or so to get to us. My immediate thought had been to pick my son up and take him to the ER, which was only about 8 minutes away from where we were, but my stepfather wouldn’t let me. He convinced me I could do more harm to him if I moved him: I regret not taking him to the ER to this day! I couldn’t seem to get anyone to call 911, so I had to leave my son in the street to call them myself! This is the weird thing: The call wouldn’t go through, initially. I tried about 3 times before it finally went through. I kept getting a “dead” tone at first! And, no, I wasn’t miss-dialing! I wasn’t! I am very calm and clear-headed in a crisis: I fall apart later! Anyway, after getting through to 911, I rushed back outside to my son who died in my arms about 5 min before the fire truck arrived: He never did regain consciousness. Now, this is where the weirdness about all this comes in: I had almost lost this son before to Spinal Meningitis when he was 7 months old, but he survived (barely). After his death, I was looking through his things, and for the 1^st time I noticed the card they give you to show at the window (for visitors to see the baby) that has the baby’s date of birth on it, had his date of birth as October 10, 1979. He was born October 10, 1975. This is handwritten on the card in ink.  My question is…who makes a 4-year mistake like that?  At the end of the year?  And, they wrote this the day he was born!  And, even I – the MOTHER – didn’t notice this until a few months after he had passed! How weird is that?  Was the universe trying to tell me something when he was born that I overlooked? And, to tell you the truth, had I noticed that on his birth card from the beginning, it would have messed with my head a bit, and I’m sure I would have kept and extra eye out for him!

You would think that one so young wouldn’t know anything about being a Christian, but he did: He did!  He use to get my spoons and go to the middle of the playground in our court (in front of our home, in our apartment complex) and preach to everyone who passed by, young and old, alike.  And, we couldn’t stop him! Believe me, we tried! His preschool teachers told me (at his funeral) that he used to take the plastic utensils, and climb up in the chairs and preach to the other kids while they ate their lunch at preschool: I never knew any of this! But, that’s who my son was.

So, where does Letters From Heaven come in? From the pain of losing my son. It was all I could think about…day in and day out! Grief consumed me! Not the boo-hoo, feel sorry for yourself kind, NO! It was the ‘Where is my son, really, kind; ‘Is there really a heaven’ kind; ‘Is there really life after death’ kind! Already an avid reader, I was now devouring every book I could find written on Life After Death--Christian and Non-Christian. I needed to KNOW!  I NEEDED ANSWERS! My son was gone and I wanted to know WHERE! I needed to know if there really even was a where!

As I began to read various books on different people accounts of their “trips” to both heaven and hell, I knew (without a shadow of doubt) my son was in Good Hands. I knew, but my foundation had been shaken to the core, and I just needed reassurance and I received it. Letters From Heaven is my therapeutic gift from God. I woke up one morning and it’s like, someone was dictating something to me. I was trying to tune my ear to hear what was being said and I heard words pouring into my ear. Then I heard, Letters From Heaven. I said, "What?...What is Letters From Heaven?" I knew who was talking to me; I was quite used to His Voice. Then, He reminded me that I had asked Him for a good book to write, and here it was. The story continued to pour “into” me. I grabbed some paper from the side of my bed and a pen, and started writing what I was “hearing.” I know…I know…this sounds way out there, but it’s the honest-to-God truth!  

Anyway, it’s been a journey and I wouldn’t it trade for anything. Now, I invite you on the next part of this journey with me…a journey of hope, a journey of courage, a journey of possibilities. It’s true...life can throw you some lemons (even, some rotten ones), but throw your head back, and let’s get ready to make lots of lemonade! Oh, just throw the rotten ones back! LOL!