Why Can't They See Me

By P.G. Tripp

Her goals to be seen had taken her on a journey through darkness. As the journey progressed, she grew deathly weary, barely able to cling to hope. Would there be any light to guide her to safety? At what point had her journey taken her so deep into the world's darkness?She was a good person, filled with great love, but no one seemed to notice. Would she survive the raw evil that she repeatedly encounters? How long could she continue making the tumultuous journey that had held her captive for so long? She was searching, crying out, reaching and grabbing for the perfect moment, the perfect situation to bring hope back into her life. The act of calling out soon turned into screams. Still, to no avail, the screams returned void. She continued her search for hope and happiness, the tears began to dry, and dreams faded away. What had she failed to see?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098067618

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Why Can't They See Me

P.G. Tripp

Copyright © 2020 by P.G. Tripp

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

All Scripture quotations are taken from the (KJV) King James Version of the Holy Bible.

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Unstable Foundations

Will

Broken Boundaries

Walking Wildly

Shifting Gears

Casting Colors

Sheltered Obscurity

Looking Through Windows

Passing Shadows

Spun Webs

Rearranged Photos

Sight Unseen

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO

ONE OF GOD’S ANGELS,

SAMANTHA

I LOVE YOU MANTH!

Special Thanks

It is my greatest desires to recognize and express my undying gratitude to those that continued to show their unwavering support:

Samantha G., my beautiful daughter, you lived most of the story with me. You never left my side. You never gave up on me. And you never walked along side me with your help held down. You know the truth, you believe in me, and you stand strongly in my corner. I love you more than you could ever imagine. Always remember, you are one of God’s angels.

Celia C., my dear friend, you heard so much about the writing of the book that you knew the story before you read it. Thank you for caring enough to listen, to encourage, and to pray. Thank you for taking time out to read the book, giving me much needed feedback.

Janice C., you read my book with a passion filled heart. You filled me with inspiration and a drive to move further than I thought possible. We are The Middles. Two cousins living separate lives, but sharing familiar battles. It is in our blood to conquer and to overcome. All will end well.

Penelope H., another very dear friend, you made sure that I did not give up on this mission. You stayed up many late nights helping me edit the rough areas. You never hesitated to lend a helping hand and encouragement.

Naomi C., another dear friend, you were on board at the idea of conception. You read the roughest of drafts, while on vacation, gave me feedback, and never wavered on your belief in the book. You then took me step by step on publishing my book, never leaving any question unanswered. Now, I am awaiting your book release.

Sister Mollie J., you believed in the book before it had a title. You spoke life into me from the very beginning. You stood eagerly by waiting to read the book, even in the earliest stages. You continued to push me forward. Thank you for everything that you do. Not just for me, but everyone you come in contact with. You are beautiful inside, outside, and especially spiritually.

Kevin V. Johnson, you are as true of a friend as anyone could ask for. You have never doubted me, failed me, nor betrayed me. You are a one of a kind friend, like none other. Thank you for your sincerity.

Words alone cannot express how grateful I am to have each of you in my life. Each of you plays a very unique role in my ability to grow and overcome. Thank you, Debbie, Chuck, and Cathy, my siblings, for everything. This book is another stepping stone in my journey of healing. I love each and every one of you, and am proud to have such wonderful people in my life. Thank you!

Foreword

This book is a personal testimony of struggle, abuse, heartache, and a person’s realization that God is the only one that can heal our hurts, mend our pain, and guide our steps into the destiny that He has called us to. Pamela has been attending our church faithfully for over 6 years, and it has been a pleasure to watch her grow in the Lord. She exemplifies how a believer can overcome any obstacle and not only survive but become an influencer through God’s strength and their determination.

Pastor Brett and Mollie Jarriel Lead Pastors—The Azalea City Church of God Valdosta, Ga

Introduction

Driven by an unquenchable thirst to be seen, she worked fervently to overcome the forces she encountered daily. Most days were spent meeting new challenges with a passion of achievement. She set near impossible goals, in hopes of reaching a plateau of unattainable heights. The daily life struggles would send her down roads, and on journeys, that would be potentially deadly. Before long, she would have to wait to be seen, she would have to concentrate on survival. Many years would pass and many challenges would be met; leaving a path of destructive pain. She had been running for so many years that she had forgotten when the race had begun. Where will she end up? Will she meet her, seemingly, unattainable goals? Would the journey traveled be worth it?

Chapter 1

Unstable Foundations

There are people that have said that they can remember life as far back as the infant stage. It is undetermined as to how much of this I believe. Who am I to negate their memories? It has also been said that certain life situations will hold a permanent spot within our memory vaults. This is something that I know to be true. My earliest memories go as far back as the age of two. The majority, of these memories, are based upon my family’s interactions involving my dad. After acquiring a brain tumor, during the Vietnam War, he was forced to leave the Air Force. If this had happened in today’s times, he would have been rendered disabled and would have gotten paid for it. This was during a time of "Honest pay for honest work." There were no free rides then. He would not have taken it, even if there had been a free ride. That’s just the kind of person he was. Without the military career, he rejoined the civilian world and acquired employment working at a full service filling station, also known as a gas station.

My mama would take my siblings and me to visit him at this service station. There were a great deal of interesting activities to keep children entertained. There was the car lift to watch, when vehicle oil changes took place, washing of the windshields, filling of the gas, and then there was the topping off of the engine fluid levels. At a full service filling station, the attendant would pump the needed gasoline while paying close attention to the other vehicle needs. The cans of oil, that’s right cans, would be displayed between the pumps, for sale. The display would hold five rows of various types of engine oils. When needed, the attendant would use a metal spout to puncture the oil can, then administer the oil. The unused oil would be placed back into the display stand, until future needs. Inside the filling station, there were tables to accommodate the waiting patrons, with an order by cup coffee vending machine. You could order a cup of coffee to be made to your liking. Next to the coffee machine, there was a can soda machine, then a snack vending machine. Across from this area, on the other side of the room, was a souvenir shop. The store was chocked full of interesting items to buy. On the outside, there was a large empty field next to the station. In this field, my siblings, sometimes family friends, and I would play various games. Usually, we played Hide and Seek. There was never a dull moment. Many of the regular patrons had become good friends of the family. These were good times. We were not always visiting Daddy at work, but when we did, we loved every minute of the visit.

On one of the days that we had not visited, the day was a normal day filled with playing and other stuff. Daddy had ended up working late this evening, so my siblings and I were already in bed when Daddy got home. Upon arriving home, Daddy came into my bedroom and woke me up. Looking up, I see him standing over me. This was a rather curious situation to me, because I can’t recall him coming into our, my sister’s and mine—bedroom. His brown uniform pants really stick out in my mind. After a short moment, he tells me to look in his pocket. As I am preparing myself to look, I see a set of dark brown ears. All I could see is the tips of these pointy little ears. Instantly, I am excited. Without thinking, I say, "You got me a bunny! Overwhelmed with joy, I could hardly wait to see the rest of the bunny. Laughing, he says, No, I did not get you a bunny. But you can call her Bunny." And Bunny it was. He pulled a baby Siamese kitten from his right pant pocket. This was a gift that would be treasured for the rest of my life. My daddy did not care for cats at all, so this was a big deal for me. Plus, I love cats. Well, I love all animals. Bunny was my best friend. She went with me everywhere, at home. While at home, this cat was usually within my eye sight. There was not enough money in the world that could buy her from me. Bunny was the best thing ever for me.

A few months after I got Bunny, we moved into another house. At this house, we would play more in the front yard versus the back yard. My memory is vague on those details. The front yard details are stored in my memory, because of an accident. On the day of the accident, my papa had come to visit. He drove a Model A Ford, built in the 1940s. The car was tank like in structure, built to last. If only I had that car today. He had parked his large Ford in our uphill inclined driveway. As he was leaving, after the visit, he slowly began backing down our driveway. As the rear tires neared the bottom of the driveway, Bunny ran dangerously close to the rear of the car. Panicking, I ran after her. My heart would have burst if Bunny had gotten run over. Nothing could happen to Bunny. Nothing.

As I ran behind the large car, I became invisible. Bunny made it pass the car safely. However, I was not so fortunate. As the car backed over me, I recall rolling with the tire. As I am rolling with the tire, I can see my mama running out the front door, holding my sick baby brother of just a few months, reaching me, grabbing me by my arms, pulling me out from under the car. She pulled me out right before the front tires could make full contact with me. Just as quick as she pulled me from under the car, my papa slammed on the brakes. The next thing I recall is riding in the back seat. Our neighbor, my granny and my sister are holding me. My Mama is in the front passenger seat, with Papa driving. At this point, I felt no pain. The neighbor was praying passionately. As he prayed, I recall his light brown pants and his tan colored shirt. His prayers were calming, closing out the surrounding murmurs. His voice had captivated me. There was a lot of praying going on. My young memory ends here, with little flashes of elevator rides, and gifts.

As I got older, Mama would tell the tale of that day many times over. She had witnessed a miracle, sharing it as often as possible. She told us that as she waited, in the waiting room, I was in surgery. After about five hours of surgery, the doctor comes out to talk with her. He tells her that he cannot stop the internal bleeding and there is nothing else they can do. He went on to tell her that she needed to make final arrangements. She said that she asked him if I was still breathing on my own, and he replied yes. She went on to ask if my heart was beating on its own accord. Again, he replied yes. She said that when she heard this, she told him to turn himself back around, go back into surgery, and not to come out until I was not living on my own. Hesitantly, she says that the doctor returns to surgery. Momentarily, after the doctor returns to surgery, a young doctor comes walking up the corridor. The young doctor approaches Mama, then asks if he could offer his assistance. She agrees. Within minutes, the young doctor returns, telling Mama that I was going to be just fine. He went on to explain that my spleen had been ruptured in the accident. He removed the spleen, and all was going to be well. During the five hours of surgery, they had performed a complete exploratory surgery, removing most of my insides and laying them on a surgical table. They left a thirty-three hand-stitched seam down my abdomen, with an inch-long seam on the lower left section of my abdomen. Hey, at least Bunny was safe. Once they had me in recovery, the young doctor returned to talk with my mama. As she recalled the events, she said that he revealed to her that he was fresh out of medical school, and that this had been his first real emergency surgery. In a normal situation, I believe that most people would not have allowed this young doctor to jump in on such a dangerous surgery. But this was not most situations, and he was a God-sent angel. He saved my life that day. Mama told the same story over and over through the years.

The car accident was bad enough. So when I got sick within a week, things got worse. Somehow or another, I had contracted German measles. Still, freshly, recovering from major surgery made treating the German measles difficult. My body was in a very weak state. Plus, I didn’t have my Spleen to help fight off any infections. This sickness put me right back in the hospital. Also, almost killing me. The German measles led me to contract scarlet fever, on top of everything else. Again, almost killing me. Two more miracles had taken place, allowing me to live through these illnesses as well. All this took place within a month or two. Talk about being busy. Once I made it home, Bunny was right by my side. She rode out the storm with me. She was my best friend, and I did not regret getting hit by the car. My love for Bunny ran deep. And she was a gift from Daddy.

Shortly after I had made a full recovery, we moved into a larger house. My brother was old enough to have his own separate bedroom. The house we moved into was large, with an even larger yard to play in. The three of us children would play on our swing set, climb trees, play hide and seek, or swim in our wading pool. We had great times. Then we got our dog. His name was Fish Bait. He got the name because when he was brought to us, he was a tiny puppy. He had the mange and worms. He was in bad shape, having to be bottle fed. The comment was made, by a family member, stating that he looked like he was fish bait. This became a running joke, initially. Then, before long, he had become Fish Bait. He grew up to be a healthy, stubborn Hound dog. Fish Bait and Bunny got along well with each other. Now, there were two babies to play with. Fish Bait wasn’t much for being dressed up in baby doll clothes though. Bunny didn’t mind. She let me do all sorts of things to her. Hurting her in any way was not part of it. She was just treated like a live baby doll is all. Bunny was a real champ. She never complained, nor made a fuss. She was always with me. Fish Bait liked to roam around outside, seeing what he could get into. He, as short as he was, would often chase cars. That dog had a thing with chasing cars. What was he going to do with the car once he caught it? Thank God he never caught a car to find out. If the car was parked, he had no interest in it. He was a tough little dog. Everybody loved Fish Bait. He was a special dog. Not every family had the special pets that we had. Fish Bait and Bunny.

Our family was complete. We had Mama, Daddy, sister, brother, dog, cat, and me. We were making memories. The neighbors Doberman pinscher, Gabriel, would come to visit. He was a big, beautiful dog. He loved to play with my siblings and I. He and Fish Bait got along well too. Bunny would keep her distance from him though. We would play with each other, the dogs, then it was time to come inside. As we waited for Mama to finish supper, we would watch Wild Kingdom. For those of you that is unfamiliar with the program, it was a program about the lives of animals of the wild. This was one of my most favorite programs. My love for animals kept me glued to the television. There would be times that I can recall watching the names of the fallen soldiers, of Vietnam, scroll across the screen. Looking back, I can only imagine the number of people watching, intensely, for loved ones, as the names scrolled by. Being so young, I did not understand what this was all about. The one thing I did understand was the heavy silence that fell over the room, bringing about a sadness. Until the names quit scrolling, everyone remained silent. It was like it was an unspoken house rule. The scroll of names demanded your undivided attention and respect. Outside of cartoons, these are the remembered television programs of my younger childhood days. My favorite outfit was a white dress like top with red trim and designs, with red bloomers with white designs on them. For whatever reason, I loved this outfit. We were living a nice family life, until another accident.

This accident took place during a Sunday fish fry. Often, our family with Granny would go to Mama’s sister’s house for a day of fishing and then the fish fry. The Sunday morning was promising a beautiful day to be fishing and enjoying a fish fry. The excitement filled the air. Granny rode in the backseat with us kids. In some ways, she had managed to hold onto her inner child. Granny was full of stories and past adventures. She would keep us entertained with her story telling. Daddy would drive, as Mama rode shotgun. This was a trip that we had made many times before. And as usual, we would stop midway at a convenient store for soft drinks. Mama would usually get a Pepsi with roasted peanuts. She loved to pour the peanuts into her Pepsi bottle, then drink the Pepsi, eating the peanuts as they poured into her mouth. The rest of us would get ourselves a Coca-Cola or a Rootbeer, sipping and chattering all the way to our Aunt’s house. The rest of the trip would consist of conversations explaining what each of us would do upon arrival.

Our aunt had a dog, Precious, and two cats, Mr. Thomas and Sassy. Sassy was rather anti-social. However, Precious and Mr. Thomas were very sociable. Precious was a Labrador mix, while Mr. Thomas was solid gray, with white feet. To make things more interesting, their neighbors had a Bulldog mix. His name was Charlie Brown. Precious and Charlie Brown would swim in the private lake, while Mr. Thomas would stick by the shoreline, fishing. Mr. Thomas was a great fisherman. Mr. Thomas would sit with my uncle while he fed fish to a familiar alligator. The alligator would lay under the dock, while the dogs swam, and Mr. Thomas fished. The alligator never bothered with either of the animals. Probably because my uncle kept it well fed. However, when the alligator was present, we were not allowed anywhere near the edge of the water. It’s always better to be safe than sorry. Many times, my sister and I would help feed the alligator. My brother was too small. He would be on the side of the dock with a fishing pole. Usually, Daddy would catch fish, leave them on the end of the line, leaving the fish in the water, then hand one of us the pole. The fish would swim around, then we would think that we had caught the fish. There is no telling how many times we had caught the same fish. That poor fish. My sister and I thought that Daddy was just doing this for our brother, because he could only fish in the really, shallow part of the water. But I bet he had been doing the same for my sister and me. We were practically grown. We weren’t babies anymore, and we didn’t wear diapers either. So why would we need to catch the same fish in shallow water? Realistically speaking, we probably were fishing the same way. This is how our fishing trips would go. These were the best of times. There were always adventures, then we would eat the fish we had caught, the adults would sit and visit, while the children watched a program on the Walt Disney channel.

This Sunday trip was playing out the same as many other fishing trips. Until, the wasps made their debut. While sitting with our uncle, at the end of the dock fishing, Daddy was helping our brother fish from the side of the dock. My sister was to my left, with my uncle to my right. We were watching our fish lines for any sign of activity. As we focused on our fish lines, wasp started buzzing around. The more we swatted, the more they buzzed around. Noticing the increased amount of wasp, Daddy gets a pair of binoculars to find the nest. After locating the nest, he decides to remove the wasp nest. The nest was located across the lake, hanging from a tree branch. As Daddy leaves to retrieve a boat, family members pleaded with him not to go, to leave the wasp alone. Stubbornly, he insists on moving forward in his plans. As he moves the boat across the lake, my sister and I take turns watching him through the binoculars. When it was my turn to look, I saw the boat, but did not see Daddy. Proclaiming this to my sister, she insists on looking for herself. She too sees that he has left the boat. She returns the binoculars to me. By now, we are chattering with noticeable excitement. My uncle takes the binoculars and sees what we have been seeing.

Immediately, he tells us to return to the house. As we are making our way to the house, the adults are panicking, running around. My uncle retrieves another boat to begin the search. Daddy let out a loud whistle, as my sister and I are approaching the house. For a moment, everyone pauses, listening. Nothing comes. The only sounds that could be heard were the birds chirping, the wind blowing, and the rustle of the wind on the water. Outside of that, there was dead silence. Just as quick as we were silenced, the frantic scurrying resumed. The women and children retreated to the house, while the men took out in the boat. Once inside, along with the police, Mama called Daddy’s brother and her brother to assist in the search. We, the children, fearfully sat in silence listening to the distressed adult conversations. The beautiful day had turned to night. There was still an empty boat, and still no Daddy. Hours later, the news had been given. Daddy was dead. He had drowned, after jumping in the water to remove the wasps. His belt had gotten hung on a fallen tree, rendering him unable to come up for air. With his brain tumor Daddy had blacked