The Chrysalis Project Mission: Eradicate Child Abuse

By Elaine Stuart-Thoms

Kyra Mackensie, a psychotherapist who experienced abuse as a child, knows firsthand the devastation this can cause in an individual's life. One night she dreams of a world in which a virus was created that causes increasingly distressing symptoms in any perpetrator's body whenever they attempt to harm a child. Through the construction and release of this "anti-child abuse virus", Kyra fulfills a lifelong wish of eradicating child abuse and eliminating its destructive consequences for humanity.
In developing and distributing this virus, Kyra must face challenges in her own healing and growth process. With the help and support of Scott Resnick, who brings together a team of experts to construct this virus, Kyra visits Ocean Retreat, a spiritual center and the home of two Masters of ancient wisdom-Brothers of the Light-Damien Chong (DC) and Rapheal D'mer-whose guidance bring Kyra's and Scott's awareness and abilities to a more enlightened and powerful level.
Kyra and Scott must make use of these abilities to protect Kyra and her young son Bruce from Korman, a Brother of the Dark. Korman vows to stop the release of the virus with the aid of other dark forces if Kyra doesn't join him on his self-centered path.
Kyra, a widow who has not had a romantic relationship in the two years since her husband passed away, falls in love with Scott and expresses her feelings to him. While he admits that he loves her too, there is a question as to whether or not this relationship can withstand the obstacles of fulfilling their mission of transforming the world into a safe and loving environment for all children!
What makes The Chrysalis Project Mission: Eradicate Child Abuse unique in spiritual fiction is the depth of the teachings that it offers as well as its ability to entertain. Its intended audience are those readers: fascinated by the processes of their internal lives; interested in understanding their dreams; who enjoy visionary spiritual fiction; who relish love stories; and are intrigued by the idea of a mystical "Path of Enlightenment".

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098342227

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Copyright © 2020 by Elaine Stuart-Thoms

The Chrysalis Project Mission: Eradicate Child Abuse

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form

or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording,

or any information storage and retrieval system now known or invented,

without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes

to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion

in a magazine, newspaper, or broadcast.

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-09834-221-0

eBook ISBN: 978-1-09834-222-7

I dedicate this book to

my husband Richard Thoms and our son Nicholas.

Thanks for making my dreams come true!

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

RESURRECTION’S CROSSROAD Lynn Kochiss

Acknowledgments

With gratitude I offer my thanks to my manuscript readers, Lynn Kochiss, Shirley Kiefer, David Gregorski, Amy Allen, Dorothy Mason, Robbie Parrot, and Marie Marshall, whose feedback and encouragement were invaluable for the creation of this book. I couldn’t have done it without their help.

I also thank Dorothy Mason for permission to use two of her poems from her book On Silver Wings, and Lynn Kochiss for an excerpt from her poem Resurrection’s Crossroad. Both poets beautifully express the main message of this book—Do Your Self-Work and Come Home to God!

Equally important to this homecoming theme are the Alice Bailey books, published by Lucis Publishing Company, which continually enrich my life with their wisdom and guidance on both personal and professional levels. I appreciate Lucis Trust for allowing me to use these wisdom sound bites in The Chrysalis Project Mission: Eradicate Child Abuse.

These extracts are quoted with permission from Lucis Trust, which holds the copyright. To learn more about the Alice Bailey books and the Lucis Trust Foundation, visit their website at www.lucistrust.org/books.

I am also indebted to The Association for Research and Enlightenment and The Theosophical Society for the knowledge I gained and ideas that I gathered and am still learning from their teachers and authors!

This is a work of fiction. Any person, location, or businesses included in this book are part of this fiction, and any resemblance to any real person, location, or business is a coincidence.

Prologue

"The Kingdom of God is present on earth today,

and forever had been, but only a few, relatively speaking,

are aware of its signs and manifestations."1

May 13, 1989: The interviewer strode through the secured door, after thanking the guard for opening it. While watching her set up her tape recorder and pull out a notebook brimming with questions, most of which I would probably refuse to answer, I wondered why I had agreed to use some of my valuable visitation time in this manner.

Would I have gone through with it if I had known how it would all end? Her first query was an expected one, and a difficult question to answer. I suppose that’s just another way of asking if I have any regrets. Do I? Probably. Nevertheless, I believe the endeavor was worthy of all of the sacrifices I and my colleagues experienced.

Do I believe I deserve imprisonment for my part in the Chrysalis Project? This next inquiry appeared simple on the surface, yet touched on the age-old question of whether the end justifies the means. In this situation, I passionately believe that the end result justified the means. Paradoxically, I also conclude that it was appropriate for the legal system to hold me accountable for my transgressions.

My sentence could have been much harsher than just one year served at a minimum-security prison, for I had committed a felony. I also had shown no remorse, in fact had admitted during the trial that I would willingly do it all over again. Therefore, I would be in much worse circumstances without the support of the majority of the public that had condoned my deed because of its world-shaking and transforming outcomes.

Questions spewed forth from my interrogator’s mouth like the babble of an infant learning its first words. Some I responded to, while for others, a firmly spoken Next clarified my boundaries on which questions I chose not to answer, specifically any that were about my personal life or the production details of the Chrysalis virus.

Do I keep in contact with other members of the team? Some of them, I acknowledged, holding their names silently and lovingly in my heart. I signaled that this interview was over by stating, One last question.

What was I planning on doing with my time spent inside? Writing my personal experience of The Chrysalis Project, and at the avid gleam in her eyes that this reply provoked, I hastened to add that this memoir would be private, not to be published—at any rate, not for a long, long time—maybe never. Rather, this exercise is for my healing. And perhaps for ....

Later, after she left, miffed at the lack of juicy details to present to her readers, I paced back and forth in my cell, grappling with my procrastination over reliving the incredibly painful and soul-transforming journey I underwent in creating The Chrysalis Project virus. 

Knowing that capturing the essence of my adventures in written form would, at the very least, be therapeutic for me, I grudgingly sat down at the tiny table, grabbed a pen, and opened the notebook that the authorities provide to all inmates. 

So! I shall begin at the beginning.

Chapter One

"Every step of the way has to be carried out by a man himself,

and there is no short or easy road out of darkness into light." 2

One night I dreamed that the entire world had evolved into a more loving and enlightened place. Society had eradicated poverty and discrimination, and for the first time in the history of Earth, the majority of its people were happy and fulfilled in their lives. And the reason for this miracle? Child maltreatment and its far-reaching repercussions no longer existed because a miraculous virus had infected the entire human race—one that produced in its host extreme discomfort, pain, dizziness, and even unconsciousness whenever a person attempted to harm a child.

I paused for a moment, knowing that my fantasy had grabbed this audience of educators’ complete attention. How different would the lives of some of their young charges have been if my dream-virus were a reality? Or even, perhaps, their own lives?

I wish this dream was an actuality, that an ‘anti-abuse virus’ had been created that would prevent the assault and murder of these vulnerable ones. Just last year alone ....

While I laid out the grim statistics on the number of children injured or murdered in the United States during the previous year, a man seated in the second row caught my attention—not so much because of his attractiveness (although he reminded me a bit of my deceased husband) but because he was smiling! What on earth could he possibly find amusing in my presentation? Designed to shock and horrify people out of their complacency, this kind of lecture usually left the audience disheartened and grieving for the helpless victims. After turning my attention away from the bizarre behavior of that strange man, I moved on to the prevention part of my presentation. 

In my practice as a psychotherapist, I often see the long-term effects of child abuse. Whether it was sexual or physical, mental or emotional, child maltreatment leaves wounds and scars that can take the rest of a survivor’s lifetime to heal. Besides supporting their healing process, the best gift we can make to the next generation is to prevent child abuse from happening. Education on prevention is crucial and then ....

The man smiled again! It was a good thing that I knew this lecture backwards and forwards by heart because his odd manner distracted me. I continued speaking, underlining the importance of every one of us undergoing some kind of psychological self-work, since the primary cause of child abuse arises from the unacknowledged and unresolved emotional issues of a child’s caregivers. During the question-and-answer session that followed the end of my lecture, the smiling man raised his hand. Bemused by what question he might ask, I let him speak first, ahead of the other participants who had been patiently waiting for their turn.

Totally at ease, dressed more casually than the rest of the audience in a soft yellow jersey top and black denim pants, he stood up and waited for the crowd to quiet down. Directing his gaze toward me with such focused intensity that I felt momentarily disconcerted, he asked, Ms. Mackensie, if there really was a virus such as the kind in your dream, and you discovered it, what would you do with it?

Spread it around the world as fast as I could, I replied without hesitation.

Asking no one’s permission? he fired back.

No one asks children’s permission to hurt them. No, I would not consult any governments or churches, any individuals or organizations. I would just do it. 

Defiantly I scanned the audience after providing that answer, half-expecting a challenge about the ethics of what I was proposing. Surprisingly, all I noticed were numerous heads nodding in agreement, while the questioner just sat back down in his seat, after offering his thanks for allowing him to speak.

For the next half an hour, questions kept me busy explaining how my approach would address specific cases that several of the conference members presented. After the applause, and after listening privately to several people share personal experiences with me, I looked around for the enigmatic, smiling participant. I couldn’t find him, and I felt disappointed. I guess I had wanted a more personal encounter.

This realization took me by surprise because, since the death of my husband, Nate, two years ago, I had no interest in dating or spending time with any man for any reason except for business. Maybe I was coming out of deeper mourning, although I would carry a sense of profound loss for the rest of my life. Nate had been not only my husband and the father of our son but also my best friend, beloved confidant, and playmate! After his death in a car accident, as part of my recovery, I had thrown myself into my work, and into spending as much time as possible with my son, Bruce.

Now that my presentation was over, I was definitely ready for some decompression time. For convenience’s sake, I usually try to reserve a room and give my workshops in the same hotel. I quickly hiked up two flights of stairs, unlocked the hotel room door, kicked off my high-heeled shoes, and flopped down onto the bed.

Inhaling and exhaling deep breaths of air, I alternately clenched and relaxed each muscle group in my body, starting with my feet and legs and gradually working up to my neck. Sometimes this relaxation technique proved successful at calming my jangled nerves, because I usually feel some kind of post-lecture jitters.

Speaking about the kinds of horrific things that happen to children is necessary to inform and shake up the audience; however, just thinking about this subject can make me physically ill. Usually I endure sleepless nights after hearing about some new grisly incident. My lecture series was an endeavor to keep such cases from happening in the first place and to do something with the increasingly hopeless way I felt about this state of the world.

The obnoxious ring of the telephone interrupted my rumination. Grateful for the distraction, I rolled over, grabbed the phone and said, Hello, Kyra Mackensie speaking.

Ms. Mackensie, my name is Scott Resnick. I was at your speech this evening. I thought that you were probably staying here at the Dallas Hilton and asked the desk clerk for your telephone number. I hope that you don’t mind. You may not remember me—I was the person who asked you what you would do if you discovered your dream virus.

Yes, I remember you. Understatement of the year! The desk clerk had my permission to give out my number. What can I do for you?

Well, I was wondering if you would have dinner with me, if you don’t already have plans.

I was speechless for a moment. I hadn’t expected to hear from him again, much less have him ask me out. My initial urge was to say no, but the man interested me, so I overrode that decision, and instead replied, Mr. Resnick, I don’t mean to be rude, but before I give you an answer, I need to know if this is a social or a business invitation.

Actually, it is both. If you don’t mind though, I’d rather explain in person. 

I pondered for a second, and then my curiosity got the better of me. I decided that this mystery was worth checking out. No, I don’t have any plans for dinner and could join you.

Excellent! Where would you like to eat?

Well, this hotel has a superb restaurant and would be convenient for me. Is that all right with you?

That would be fine. What time would you like to meet?

How about in half an hour? In the lobby?

Yes, that would work well for me. See you then.

Pushing my weary body off of the bed, I went over to the full-length mirror to inspect the condition of my clothing. Turning to catch a look at the back of my skirt, I decided that it was still presentable. My idea of what was presentable was influenced by my not wanting to get undressed and pick out something different to wear.

However, I freshened my makeup and brushed my hair. Cut in multiple layers, it is deep brown with red highlights, and luckily, because I appreciate having a low-maintenance hairstyle, it has a natural wave. My eyes are about the same color as my hair, and as for the rest of my face, well, some people have told me I am pretty. Nate always used to say that my looks were arresting. In one of his more playful moods, he would say that not only do people stop and stare at me but that sometimes he should be arrested for the kinds of things he wanted to do with me in public! Which would lead to us going somewhere private.

Swiping the tears from my eyes, and applying fresh mascara and lipstick, I knew that however fascinated I was by Scott Resnick, I was still far from being ready for any kind of romantic relationship with another man while my grief for Nate was so strong. If Scott hadn’t said that the dinner date was also for business, I would have met him in the lobby and told him I had changed my mind.

It was time to go. I grabbed my purse, locked the door, and once again I took the stairs instead of the elevator. Being in an elevator makes me uncomfortable, and besides which, climbing up and down staircases is a good way to exercise.

The hotel’s lobby, decorated in soothing earth-brown and gold tones, was on the crowded side. Deciding to let Scott come looking for me, I sank down into a comfortable chair. Don’t ask me how, but I knew the minute he walked into the room even though I did not see him right away. It’s hard to describe the sensation that I felt; a kind of prickly feeling that some people get before a big thunder and lightning storm appears.

He had changed into a suit, a light-brown one with a blue shirt and matching striped tie. Taller than most of the other occupants of the room, his honey-gold hair accentuated the sky-blue color of his eyes. He was beautiful, in the way a man can be when his features and coloring come together just so. He looked delicious. My pulse raced.

Oh damn, I thought, maybe my heart is not ready for an intimate relationship with a man, but my body sure is! The grin he gave me was a little like the one he wore during my lecture, and again, I found it disturbing. Later I would ask him why he had smiled that way while he was listening to gut-wrenching child abuse statistics. Who knows, maybe the guy was a psycho, and if so, it was a good thing we were meeting in an almost filled-to-capacity restaurant.

I stood up as he approached me and smiled hesitantly in return.

Holding out his hand and clasping mine in its warm embrace, he said, Thanks for joining me. Would you like to go have a drink in the bar first, or just go get a table in the dining room?

To tell the truth, I’m starving and I’m not much of a drinker, I replied.

All right, the dining room it is. We walked over to the restaurant and were seated immediately.

I felt odd, unsettled, still not sure why I was having dinner with him. Part of me wanted to run back up to my room and order tons of food from room service. I promised that I would do exactly that if the conversation or his behavior turned weird.

Scott ordered a pasta primavera dish with a large salad while I ordered a steak and seafood combo. I waited for him to speak, since he was the one who had called me. You are good at what you do, he said.

Thank you.

He must have heard the slight edge in my voice. I don’t know why his remark put me on the defensive, but it did. At that moment our salads came, and we began to eat. Halfway through finishing his, he remarked, What I meant by my compliment is that you do what you set out to do—if I may be so presumptuous to assume—which is to wake and shake people up to the plight of abused children. Your passion and caring, and yes, sense of desperation, touches most people in such a way that even if they still don’t take an active part in the programs you outlined, then at least you heighten their awareness of what is going on. It becomes much harder for them to ignore it.

What he said mollified me. I did not expect him (mostly because of his odd behavior during my presentation) to put so clearly into words my own personal mission. My first impression of him as some kind of crackpot changed at that moment, and I started to relax a little. However, I was still wary, wondering what he wanted from me.

Yes, you are correct. I do want to wake people up to the effects of child abuse, and more than anything I want to motivate them to be more proactive in preventing and protecting children from being abused! It tears me up inside so much .... At this point I had to stop, as once again I felt nausea and dizziness course through my body, and automatically closed my eyes to stop the room from spinning.

When I finally opened them and released my grip from the edges of the table, I noticed Scott looking at me with concerned interest. Does that happen every time you even think about what terrible kinds of things are being done to children?

I looked at him sharply, again not knowing what he was after. Cautiously, I responded to his inquiry.

Sometimes, such as when I am giving a presentation, the discomfort is minimal. Other times it is much worse, such as when I hear a new horrific story, but yes, I experience extremely distressing physical and emotional reactions when exposed to incidents of child neglect and maltreatment. I wish everyone experienced what I feel, and then maybe the abuse would stop. I think that is why I had that dream. I pray every night for it to come true.

Scott looked at me and nodded his head. It would simplify matters if everyone had a violent physical and psychological reaction to even thinking about harming a child. Sort of like when alcoholics take antabuse to prevent them from drinking because of the unpleasant side effects.

This man seemed to understand. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to ask him. Who are you? What do you want from me?

I guess you could call me a psychotherapist like yourself. However, I don’t have a private practice. I’m more into research, he replied. As to the business part of our evening, I would prefer to wait until after we eat, if you don’t mind.

Actually, I minded, and was about to tell him so when our dinners arrived, smelling and looking heavenly. Lecturing always made me hungry. So, my stomach won out, and I didn’t press him to explain further. I even lightened up a little. Maybe I could even enjoy myself; a somewhat foreign concept that I often have to think about re-introducing into my life.

Therefore, after consuming half my steak and all of my stuffed shrimp, I laid down my fork and commented, You know, here we are having dinner together and we haven’t even talked about the usual stuff people getting acquainted chat about, like our families, where we are from. I’m often accused of being far too serious and I guess this is a prime example. So, Scott, where are you from? Tell me about your family.

While laughing at my slightly put-on tone of interest, Scott wiped his mouth with a bright pink napkin and answered, Okay, Kyra. By the way, I like your name. I was born, raised, and do my research in a town north of Denver, Colorado, called Greeley. I have three siblings, a brother and two sisters, and a dog named Koko, actually, Kokopelli to be accurate. I’m not married, although I would like to be and have kids someday. Both of my parents are great people, no tales of abuse in my upbringing, thank God. And before you can ask the next obvious question, I came to Dallas specifically to hear you speak.

My eyebrows lifted as he finished. Just to hear my presentation?

Yes, but before I explain why, do you want coffee or dessert? The waiter had reappeared to take away our empty plates and inquire if there was anything else that we needed.

No, I’m full. But go ahead if you want something else.

He shook his handsome head at the waiter. No thanks, that will be all. Please bring me the check. He looked at me and, expecting my next remark, said, My treat this time.

The man himself and the mystery surrounding the reason he had sought me out, or, to be more precise, had come to my presentation, intrigued me. I glanced at my watch. It was six o’clock, which gave me another two hours to call my son before he went to bed. He was staying with Nate’s parents back in Granby, Connecticut, and my nightly call when I was traveling was precious to both of us.

Often, I struggled with wanting to stay at home more and travel less, but since teaching my approach to child abuse prevention was a significant part of my life work, it was hard to turn down opportunities to speak. Bruce was too young to bring along, so having him with me was not an option. It was easier to leave him in the capable and adoring hands of his grandparents. I also knew that their grandson’s presence helped assuage their grief over losing their only son.

I stood up and announced that I was going to the ladies’ room. Scott asked, Would you like to talk further outside of the hotel? It is nice, even though muggy, and definitely more private than here. He gestured around the crowded dining room filled with boisterous convention participants. Funny, I hadn’t noticed them till now.

Yes, that would be fine. I just have to be back in my room by about a quarter to eight so I can call my son. He’s three and a half years old and his name is Bruce. I’ll meet you out in the lobby.

After using the facilities, I washed my hands and freshened my lipstick. I still wondered what Scott wanted from me. I met him in the lobby and we walked out of the hotel into the slightly steamy Texas evening. I had made the mistake of coming to Dallas one time in August and spent most of the time indoors recuperating from the unholy heat and humidity. Even now, in early April, it was like Connecticut’s weather in late June or early July. We walked in silence until we reached a little park-like area with benches, beds of multicolored flowers, and fragrant blossoming trees. Scott wiped off the seat with a napkin from the hotel.

I’ll return this when I walk you back, he said. I don’t think they will mind when I explain why I borrowed it.

We sat for a moment or two in silence, appreciating the sight of the almost full moon as it began its rise into the star-lit sky. I love the time of the full moon, although I often have trouble sleeping on those nights when it waxes.

I haven’t asked you ‘those’ questions, you know, about where you are from, he teased. You mentioned that you have a son named Bruce, but what about the rest of your family?

Well, I’m from Simsbury, Connecticut, my parents are living in Florida, and I am a widow.

I am sorry to hear about your loss. Was it recent? he asked in a compassionate voice.

Two years ago, this last month. He died in a car accident when a drunk driver forced him off the road. The only comforting thing was that it happened so quickly that Nate didn’t suffer. Or so they assured me. I know that my voice sounded bitter, but it wasn’t fair! Not fair to me, to Bruce, and especially not to Nate.

Scott replied, Do you want to talk about it? I’m here to listen if you wish.

Taking in a deep breath of air and exhaling it twice as slowly, I shook my head and replied, No thanks, not right now. Maybe another time. I appreciate the offer though; it is comforting when I can share my grief and rage and not scare my listener away.

After a moment I asked, Actually, I would like to hear more about why you came all the way to Dallas to hear my presentation. I’m also curious why you were smiling while I was talking about stomach-turning tragedies.

I guess I didn’t realize how odd my smiling would seem. I was smiling because I was happy to see you in person and that you were exactly as someone had described you; intensely devoted to your cause, an intelligent, well-prepared teacher and therapist who I am hoping will become my business partner.

Incredulously, I repeated his last few words, Business partner?

An outdoor spotlight positioned behind a half-leafed maple tree framed the back of his head, giving him a slight halo. His expression became fully animated, and clasping his hands, he brought them up under his chin, like a little child who is asking for an expensive gift.

You know your dream about the virus that would generate physical discomfort for people when they even thought about abusing a child? What if I said to you that there is a good possibility that we could create one—a virus that actually works!

I didn’t know what to think. I had thought of my dream of the anti-abuse virus as just that, a dream, an impossible fantasy, a wish born out of frustration and personal pain.

I’d say that you are the one who is dreaming; either that or you are playing a practical joke on me, and that would make me furious!

My voice became louder on this last statement, and several couples walking by turned around to see what was happening.

Scott grabbed my hand, and I immediately felt my anger dissipate, like I had just taken a calming sedative. "No, Kyra, I am not playing a joke on you. That would be cruel and purposeless. I know it sounds unbelievable, but I told you earlier that my main interest was in research. A colleague told me about your work and about your unusual dream idea. Thinking your idea had potential and was worth further exploration, I spoke with specialists from different fields—geneticists, biologists, psychiatrists, pharmacists, even several spiritual healers and psychics. They all thought the idea had merit, and that so long as we overcame some initial difficulties, an anti-abuse virus was possible.

I knew that there would be questions of ethics and legality in creating and infecting people with such a thing, so I had presented the idea as more of an intellectual exercise rather than as an actual project in the making. I’m like you are, in that I don’t care about the morality of the situation; I just want the abuse to stop and see this as the quickest avenue. I’m hoping that after tonight it will be a real project in the making."

Stunned, for once I didn’t know what to say!

Scott let go of my hand and brushed his bright-gold locks away from his now sweaty forehead. Look, I know this is a bit of a shock, but I want to collaborate with you on this project; I truly believe that such an engineered virus would be effective. Your input would be invaluable as actually, your own body would be our starting place since you already experience the reaction we are looking to duplicate.

Tears came into my eyes, and I thought briefly of trying to suppress them, but just thinking my dream could come true touched a lifetime of anguish and rage. I started sobbing vigorously, stopping only to gasp for air. Scott pulled me to him and held me, silently waiting for the wracking of my body to lessen. After what seemed like a long time, which was probably only five minutes, my crying subsided, and Scott dropped his arms, allowing me space in which to compose myself. I yanked tissues from my purse, wiped my mascara-smeared face, and blew my nose.

How soon can we begin? Where do we start?

He smiled and said, We start by having a detailed examination of the kinds of responses you experience while you are watching videos of child maltreatment. It won’t be pleasant for you to have these feelings and sensations induced repeatedly so that we can have as complete a picture as possible.

I think I can handle the tests. It will be easier to go through them knowing that how I am affected will provide important information in how to recreate this kind of reaction in anyone who even dares to contemplate harming a child.

Glancing at his watch, Scott suggested that we go back to the hotel. It was almost time to call my son. Exhausted and emotionally spent, I needed to take a bath and go to bed. In the lobby, Scott wished me a good night’s rest and asked when he could call me in the morning.

My flight doesn’t leave until 2 p.m., so you can call me after eight o’clock to make plans. I thank you for an extraordinary evening. I look forward to your call.

Chapter Two

"It is the effort which counts. The results will be inevitable,

and commensurate with the effort." 3

The ice storm’s aftermath was amazing. Hundreds of trees with silver-dipped branches sparkled and glistened in the midday sun. It made for dangerous driving though; not that the roads were that slippery, just that it was so tempting to look at the gilded trees rather than pay attention to the turns in the road. Ice storms in New England were not all that uncommon (unfortunately), but what made this storm unique was that the ice had remained on the branches, bushes, and some buildings for two whole days, all diamond-like under a brilliant March sun.

The unusual weather and scenery were a perfect reflection of my extraordinary mood—feelings of elation and awe, of relief and excitement reverberated throughout my body! Relief came from the end of the testing period of my reactions to child abuse stories, with elation arising from my anticipation of being one step closer to creating this special virus. Today I was meeting with the core team to discuss the results of the tests and their observations, and to learn how I could continue to contribute to this much-needed project.

Almost a whole year had passed since I had first met Scott Resnick and became involved with the development of the anti-abuse virus. So that I could be at home with my son for what would probably be a time-consuming project, Scott and I decided that it was best to have our base of operations in Connecticut. After numerous phone calls and several trips out here to Connecticut, Scott had discovered an abandoned medical clinic for sale in South Windsor, a town located a short distance from Bradley International Airport.

Having the airport nearby was handy, as it made it more convenient for the different specialists to come to our facility. Scott also carved a small apartment for himself out of the clinic’s two thousand square footage. After much cleaning, painting, and remodeling, Mackensie and Resnick Enterprises opened for business.

I was more than a little dismayed that it had taken this long just to begin the creation of the anti-abuse virus. I would have preferred to see the virus already replicating itself in the world’s entire population, working its magic in every human being. It was difficult to keep from screaming out loud with frustration at our slow progress. 

Fortunately, amid all the site preparation, before the testing had begun, I had a dream that helped me deal with my frustration in a more balanced way. In my dream, a shadowy figure asked me what my most challenging lesson was in this lifetime. Without taking time to think at all, my dream-self quickly answered, I am here to learn patience!

 I laughed when I recalled this dream since it was speaking the truth. Luckily, looking at my human-ness (some might call it a weakness) from a humorous perspective always helped me to lighten up a bit. That plus my desire to develop a plan to prevent child maltreatment and the reality of how long it would take before we could implement it, motivated me into changing the way I handled my impatience.

It was change or go crazy. Therefore, instead of allowing feelings of impatience to rule my behavior or create undue stress in my life, I tried to lessen their affect. I discovered that my distress level diminished when I treated these feelings (and the part of me that was feeling them) as gently and as lovingly as I would treat a child who was having difficulty being patient. I imagined in my mind’s eye what I had looked like as a child and said to this little Kyra, I see that you are feeling frustrated and impatient. It is hard to be patient when you have waited so long for your dream to come true. How can I help you feel less frustrated?

Sometimes just saying this made me feel better, and at other times little Kyra would ask me to take a walk, or pound on a pillow, and holler and yell at how frustrated I was feeling. My feelings of impatience did not always vanish when I walked, pounded on a pillow, or yelled, but the various interventions made it easier to cope with the situation and I almost always ended up laughing when I finished my frustration reduction therapy. It amused me that to feel less frustrated, I had to learn how to be more patient with my impatience.

Other dream messages during this time period had all been positive toward my diligent work (especially the personal improvement component) on this project, although occasionally they let me know when I was pushing myself too hard. I usually listen to what my dreams have to say, because for many years, I have experienced them as my most trustworthy resource. My dreams and the work that I do in understanding their messages provide me with increased internal (emotional and mental) strength and with much appreciated wise advice. I believe that the wisdom of dreams springs from a wider and more loving perspective than I could