Part Ten of my husband Maurie’s story: Gold Must be Tried by Fire. This part is all about his experience with bullying. Trail was a rough place to grow up!
I remember those Fruitvale Full Gospel services and somehow, even as a young child, I sensed the presence of God, which comforted me. The music stirred my heart, but at some point during the sermon, I always fell asleep and they laid me down on a back pew. When the service ended, I was carried to the car, and mom stopped by the riverbank to pick up dad. I always slept through the entire ride home and my next recollection was a pair of strong arms carrying me into my bedroom and putting me under the covers.
Trail was a rough place. Founded by rugged miners and smelter men, whose DNA coursed through the bodies of their descendants, this was no place for a sissy and that is exactly what I was. However, I was, and still am, thrilled with life. I am excited over a grass hopper, amazed about…
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