Finding All the Pieces: The Life and Struggles of a Preacher’S Daughter

By Lila Burns

Some look back on life with feelings of fond sentiment, laughter, and love. Some would even relive their whole lives, for they believe they made few mistakes and have few regrets. However, there are some who have little nostalgia when remembering the past, including author Lila Burns. For her, it was chaotic, at best. Every day was a survival test, a game of wills. Would she fight like hell? Or would she give up, lie down, and die?

In Finding All the Pieces, she shares her life story complete with the many struggles and challenges she endured. A collection of vignettes, poems, and essays, this memoir narrates a variety of Burns diverse experiences which include abuse, pain, healing, and redemption.

Finding All the Pieces details Burns full and varied life and tells how Jesus played an important role in helping her deal with and come to terms with her challenges.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jan 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9781532012105

Lila Burns

Lila Burns is a wife, mother, grandmother, and writer who lives with her family in Colorado. She is an author of several children’s stories and has an album entitled “The Journey Home,” a collection of her spoken poetry.

Book preview

ALL THAT GLITTERS… (IS NOT GOLD!)

The Golden Years… a time of relaxation, enjoyment; when brown hair turns gray (unless you use Miss Clairol like I do), age spots appear, accompanied by wrinkles, skin tags, false teeth, and cellulite. By this stage of life, most of us have not only accepted the inevitable absolutes of time, maybe we have come to really like ourselves-even with all of these unfashionable tag-a-longs!

Some of us look back on previous years with feelings of fond sentiment, laughter and love. Some would even relive their whole lives, for they believe they made few mistakes in life and have few, maybe even no, regrets. However, there are a few of us that have precious little nostalgia when remembering our past. For us, it was chaotic at best. Every day was a survival test, a game of wills. Will I fight like hell? Or will I just give up, lie down and die?

For myself, I chose to fight my troubles; there are some things worth dying for but the feeling of hopelessness isn’t one of them. I came to a point where I needed to not only survive but to thrive, to live to the fullest and make the very most of my life.

My hope is that you will find strength for your own journey and be encouraged by my story!

THE COLD GRAY WALLS OF HELL

I see it in the distance. A fortress…a citadel. Stone upon stone comprises the wall that surrounds. A cold, gray wall; but within these strong walls lies a hell. Not the hell we all picture, for there is no fire, no smoke. Yet, monsters and demons of great proportion are housed here. Unclean men, oozing with evil. Hell: a place of torment…a place of unrest. That’s what this place is.

As the iron gates close, clanging and echoing behind me, I am unprepared for the nausea that overcomes my being. I’m drowning in the waves of fear that crash over me like a flood. I’m locked in here; unable to leave on my own until the guards let me be free. Terrified beyond words, I struggle to put one foot in front of the other, as I wade through a feeling of demon powers. Their presence is in the very air I gasp to breathe. It’s suffocating!

As I walk through the main doors, I pray this weight will lessen…perhaps even lift; but to my dismay, I’m crushed by the vile weight pressing down upon me. No wonder men succumb to the perverse presence of wickedness when jailed in this place for a lifetime! The essence of the Strong Man(see the Bible verse Mark 3:27-KJV) pervades every inch of space. It’s repulsive to me! Less than five minutes inside, I’m longing to leave!

Believing things can’t possibly get any worse, I’m awakened to a humiliating reality. Ordered by a female authority, I’m told to strip. For what seems like an eternity, she diligently searches every orifice of my body. She’s looking for drugs, or any contraband I may have tried to smuggle in. She finds nothing. Feeling violated, I quickly dress and step into the visiting area.

The man I am here to see has just recently arrived in prison. I am intensely afraid of him, so I am thankful that our visit is done through protective glass. I’m actually relieved the access is restricted. He has been convicted of assault and sexual abuse crimes, and I’m well acquainted with his demented perception of love.

Why I chose to stay in contact is a mystery, even to me. I feel some warped sense of obligation. The ties that hold me are invisible, but I’m imprisoned none the less. Like a chained dog, only able to go so far, I’m forced to return. There is no way out!

I vaguely hear his voice on the other end of the phone. I see his mouth move, but the words are garbled…unclear. I need to concentrate…I must pay attention. The power he has over me is eerie…creepy. Yet, I’m mesmerized, almost entranced as I stare into those piercing, lifeless blue eyes. He’s asking for money. No questions as to my well-being, or that of his daughter. No…that would be asking too much. His wants, his needs, his desires only. Nothing new, so why do I expect anything different?

The visit is finally over. It really wasn’t a visit at all. He talked. I listened. He demanded. I agreed. Everything inside of me was screaming…LET ME OUT!

Almost running now, I burst through the last Iron Gate. As it closes behind me, I gulp in the fresh air of freedom. It only takes a moment…then a gnawing realization dawns on me; my body is free, but my mind is still imprisoned by the short chain of this warped sense of obligation. I know it is only a matter of time. I will return. There is no escape.

How will I ever break free?

I DO

I stood in my parents’ bedroom, fidgeting with my dress. This was to be my day of joy, but it didn’t show on my face. The day I’d always dreamed of. The wedding dreams instilled in me from childhood. Cinderella stories, and other fairy tales; stories that for years grew inside my heart, my mind, my belly. Dreams that should be born on this day…MY wedding day; but, today something else was on my heart. Something other than dreams occupied my mind and grew in my belly.

I had been persuaded to marry a man I loathed. It was that, or suffer the wrath of harsh looks and demeaning remarks from self-righteous do-gooders looking down the end of their noses at me and this child I carried within my belly.

Options? I had none. Abortion was out of the question for me. Although it has been offered as an alternative solution by the doctor, and unexpectedly encouraged by a most unlikely family member. That would never happen if I had anything to say about it!

I stood motionless, staring into the mirror. Quietly, but fiercely, I declared my contempt for this wedding charade…this marital farce!

Relatives had come from far and near, bearing gifts of congratulation. All were aware of the circumstances surrounding this event. Polite smiles pasted on knowing faces. Feigning ignorance of all the details. Oh! But they knew!

I can’t go through with this! I hissed the words out as I spun to face my bridesmaid sitting on the bed. The reply was simple… then just say no! You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to!

Too bad the solution wasn’t that simple! My dad was a pastor. He would be disgraced at the very least, and, at worst, probably be removed from his pulpit. He was a kindly man, and would have understood…even defended me if I had decided not to marry this man. Dad loved me that much! I loved him too! NO! I would spare him the ridicule he would surly endure at the hands of his congregation.

My knuckles turned white as I gripped the doorknob, and with full resolve threw open the door. Deliberately, I marched into the living room, meeting the pasted-on smiles, and no doubt, rehearsed O’s and ah’s of the guests present. Though my belly already protruded, I held my head high, walking with dignity, like a martyr to the stake. I would be burned…one way or another. They would all see to that!

I do. These two small words encompass so much! I do know who you are… I do fully realize all that you have done to me… I do know that I am trapped ’till death do us part… but, I’ve already experienced the death part. A part of me died when I was taken forcibly and against my will. All my cries and pain seemed to mean nothing to him. My screams echoed off the walls of the empty apartment.

The death of innocence was bloody…as bloody as any homicide on record. The brutality as violent as any horrifying crime ever committed. My body was intact, but my spirit was mutilated beyond recognition. All that was left was hate, despair, anguish.

No wonder they call these shotgun weddings; all hopes and dreams are blasted to oblivion! No way to pick up all the pieces. They are blown to bits!

No matter. It will all be over soon. So I thought. Too bad for me…it was just the beginning!

THE ROOM

The room was familiar, and rightly so. After all, I’d lain on the bed inside its walls several times in the last seven months. Although familiar,