My Life

By Tamilee Sherwood

My story will help you to better understand God and that there is life after death and everlasting life in heaven. By sharing this story, I hope to help you to overcome lifes obstacles better and to know how uplifting and rewarding life can be on earth and in heaven.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Oct 12, 2011
• ISBN: 9781426979170

Tamilee Sherwood

Tamilee tells the story of Jesus Christ as it mirrors her own journey through life in straightforward, easy-to-understand literature. In reading her material, you not only will learn new information but will also be inspired by her constant show of strength and endurance.

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Copyright 2011 Tamilee Sherwood.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored

in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic,

mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

isbn: 978-1-4269-7916-3 (sc)

isbn: 978-1-4269-7917-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011912368

Trafford rev. 04/24/2012

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Contents

Preface

Introduction

Prelude

The Beginning

The Prairies

Another Town—Is It Home?

The Teenage Years

A Sorrow Never To Forget

The Accident

Continuing On

A New Start

Another Place: Another New Start

The Wake-Up Call

A New Beginning Part I

Life Must Go On

Free At Last

Who Am I?

A New Beginning Part II

The Seizures

Stress… And More Stress

A Message From Beyond

A Special Visit

The Book

The Aftermath

Another Visit

The Devil Himself

The Rebuttal

The Final Round

This book is dedicated to my mother

Pearleana Melva Schad-Hildebrant

January 20, 1943 - April 30, 2006

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Preface

This is a true story about a girls trials and tribulations that she encounters through a life that goes from bad to better to worse to better again. After a series of spiritual visits and new found knowledge of God she is better able to endure the challenges that life presents. Board the roller coaster ride she endures and you too will understand that your life is what you make of it.

Introduction

I started writing this book with the understanding that it was my destiny to be God’s messenger. However, it has also led to become my biography to leave to my children so they may better know and understand me.

It is also my goal that in by telling my story it will help others to be better able to overcome life’s obstacles and to know how uplifting and rewarding life can be on earth and in heaven.

Prelude

It all started when my mother, Melva Hildebrant met my father, Charles Schad. Charles, otherwise known as Charlie, had two small boys, ages one and two, from his previous marriage. He was the sole caregiver as his previous wife, the mother of the children, had abandoned them. Charlie and Melva were married two months after their first meeting.

After my mother endured one lost pregnancy, I was born nine months later on March 25, 1970, four years after their marriage. Through a difficult pregnancy I was delivered by caesarian two months early weighing only one pound and twelve ounces. In my two months stay in St. Mary’s hospital, New Westminster, British Columbia, I became known as "The Miracle Baby".

I got along well with my half brothers; Craig, who is six years older with a head of bright red hair, blue eyes and a tall lanky body. He was always the tallest of the family which led me to believe he got his height and coloration from his natural mother. And Patrick, who is five years older, with brown hair, blue eyes and of average height. I always remember having a connection with Pat.

I have met only two surviving grandparents, Agnes, my dad’s mother and Frank, my mom’s father. I recall grandma Agnes being in a wheelchair and also being deaf. Grandpa Frank was tall and thin, played the accordion and harmonica, and always seemed full of life.

Chapter One

The Beginning

My only memories I have of living in Surrey, British Columbia where we lived until I was six was of when I was five years old. I vividly remember my walk to school for kindergarten. As I approached the grove of trees I had to pass each way, my breath would catch at the slightest sound, my heart would beat faster and my body would tense, in preparation for immediate flight. Nestled in the trees lay a deep ravine hidden from the naked eye. I kept telling myself to focus on the path ahead but against my will, each time, I would steal a sidelong glance half expecting something to reach out and grab me.

As an adult I am not worried about impending viruses a person is liable to obtain. I was told by my mother that within the first five years of my life I had endured pneumonia, chicken pox and the measles.

At this time we had three dogs, all boxers. There was a tan female named Tawny, a brindled female named Shawtzy, and a beige male named Rocky. My parents bred the dogs for resale and my Mom showed them in dog shows.

Chapter Two

The Prairies

Upon leaving British Columbia in 1976, we moved to the province Saskatchewan. We lived in a town called Macoun. Our home here was a two story white house. It is here that I attended grades one and two. I recall that every Sunday my Mom and I would go to church and I would often return upstairs to my seat after bible school to find her silently crying with tears running down her cheeks. What’s wrong, why are you crying? I’d ask in concern. These are happy tears, she’d tell me. My first summer living here I got to go to bible camp. I have fond memories of my time here. It is here where I was introduced to the punishments we were doomed to have for misbehaving which included being grounded and confined to your room, being sent to your room without supper and what came to be familiar of being whipped with a leather belt.

In 1978 we moved again to one of my uncle Melvin’s two farms. He’s my dads older brother. The farm was located about 20 kilometers north west of the nearest town called Lake Alma, also in Saskatchewan. As a classic bachelor he bought several acres of land when it was dirt cheap, used the same machinery year after year and bred cattle as an alternate income. It would appear he had more on his plate than he could handle and that’s where his brother Charlie came in to help work the land, manage the cattle and fix machinery as needed.

It is here at this farm where I saw our boxers for the last time. I was told they had acquired a skin disease called Mange. Instead of paying for the necessary treatment in an attempt to cure what I later found out is an almost incurable disease, my Dad took them all out to a field, shot them, and disposed of their bodies on a rock pile.

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I wandered away from the house unnoticed one day in search of their remains and not far away I came across them. Their bodies were strewn haphazardly on the rock pile and I couldn’t help but notice that a couple dogs had their bodies torn open, revealing their internal organs. Flies and other various insects swarmed their remains. I don’t know if I sought them out to make the loss a reality or to give myself a chance to say goodbye.

At the age of eight my life changed forever for my Dad gave me my first horse, a Shetland pony that I named Misty. Thus my love of horses began.

Living on a farm I had to take the bus into Lake Alma where the local elementary school was located. We only lived on the farm for about six months and in the fall of 1978 we moved into a little white house on the edge of Lake Alma. I had attended grades three and four here. One advantage about Saskatchewan and its cluster of small towns is its limited number of schools. I ended up attending high school with my grade school classmates.

After continuous disappointments and let downs I had learned at an early age to take control of my life and be as independent and reliant on myself as I could.

It is at this point when a dachshund who we named Shorty came into my life. I learned from my mother that it’s a breed of dog she really likes and of one she had at a younger age whom she had also called Shorty. I also acquired a dog of my very own. She was from a litter my uncles female blue healer and male shepard/retriever cross had. I was very happy to have her in my life. I named her Tira. I only knew her for a short time because she obtained rabies. I was told that it too was an incurable disease and that she too was victim to my Dad’s hand gun.

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The sun was low and darkness has settled in. It was nearing nine o’clock and my brothers Craig, then age 14 and Pat age 13 were still not home. I couldn’t help but hear my dad’s voice rising and his anger mounting as I lay in bed pretending to be asleep. My mother’s voice was calm and reassuring even though I knew she too was getting anxious at their absence. The boys eventually arrived home on their own accord between ten and eleven o’clock. Without further ado a yelling match ensued and the next thing I knew I heard them being told to drop their pants and lean over a chair. My dad always wore a hard, leather belt with the edges frayed from years of wear. I will always remember the sound of the belt hitting their bare skin like claps of thunder. I lay in bed, my heart racing and my body tensing with each snap. My brothers didn’t say a word. I think they knew it was better to stay silent and endure their punishment. After that night the whippings almost became routine. My brothers seemed to always be in trouble or late getting home despite the punishment they knew awaited them. There were many afternoons that instead of being in my bed listening, I would be a casual bystander watching them endure the inevitable beating, curious to put a picture to the sounds I’d become accustomed to. They went about their business it seemed with no regards to others which to most was portrayed as the typical teenage attitude of I’m gonna do what I want, when I want and I don’t care what other people think. Apparently this didn’t fit in with my dad’s rules because before I knew it they had both moved out at the ages of 15 and 16 to go live in a city called Weyburn located north east of Lake Alma.

I didn’t get to travel much as a child but we did go on at least one trip every year either to Penticton, British Columbia to visit my moms sister and her family, to Enderby, British Columbia to visit my dads brother and his family, or to Altona, Manitoba to visit my moms brother. I loved these trips and they will be forever embedded in my memory. My impression of the world was that it was only as big as the eye could see. My trips through the mountains were met with anticipation as I sat hunched down in the back seat saving up the courage to occasionally sit up and peek out the window only to be met with the sight of nothing on my right and a wall of rock on my left. Going through the interminable tunnels I would wait with baited breath silently praying for the sight of daylight again.

As I grew so did my ability and confidence in handling horses and at the age of ten I had graduated to having a chestnut quarter horse mare whom I named, Mindy. She was an inexperienced horse or otherwise known as green broke which made her hard to handle and a very unpleasant ride. My Dad had other horses too.