Christmas Secret…

The tree dressed in lights, the gifts now waiting beneath it…speaks to my heart.

I’m patiently waiting for my children’s arrival. While I wait, I’ll let you in on something…

The decorating and the pre celebration work has been done with them in mind. It is for them that we hung the stockings, wrapped their gifts with special touches, even the decorations were chosen and placed with them in mind.

As I got ready for the moment when we’d enjoy supper together and open gifts, I was nearly giddy with the knowledge of how loved they would feel. Our grown kids already know that their Father and I love them, but isn’t it wonderful to express love in extraordinary ways? That’s what we’re doing today.

But here’s the scoop that I have for you. All the hard work leading into this glorious day is also for my husband and me, because our children’s joy completes our own.

Our Heavenly Father has also prepared for our home coming. Can you imagine His joy when He thinks of you someday being with Him forever?

He’s made the way. He paid the price. He gave the most expensive gift that has ever been given with you and me in mind.

“God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son, so that whoever believes in Him should not perish, but shall have everlasting life”–John 3:16

Talk about spectacular, extravagant giving… such love! That love, that exquisite, grand love is as much for you as it is or has been for anyone.

God loves you.
Merry Christmas.

Pamela Koefoed

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Catastrophic Parenting: Daddy Shopping & Auntie Mame’s House

ImagePamela Koefoed’s irresponsible mother Joy Curran had her own ideas about parenting. Children should be allowed to go to bars with their parents, they can be left alone at home for weeks, they should be spoken to as adults, and they should always have good manners.

Joy was a charismatic, free-spirited, single parent whose unconventional parenting created drama and chaos. She pursued two dreams, finding Pamela and Robin a new daddy and having an “Auntie Mame house”—a reference to a 1955 New York Time’s best selling novel about an orphaned boy and his eccentric Aunt Mame and her house of fun.

Later when Joy remarries, someone makes several attempts to destroy the home she and her new husband Max have made for Pamela and Robin, and they flee for their lives. When they divorce, Joy’s escalating drinking and neglect causes Pamela and her sister to depend on each other for emotional support. To survive, the girls are forced to find food and keep to themselves the family secrets.

Pamela tells her story without bitterness and depicts a perspective of her mother as seen through the innocent eyes of childhood. What surprises us all about Pamela and Robin is their spunkiness and resiliency. They draw on the love they have for each other and rise above the flaws in their circumstances to show us all the way to a richer and more meaningful life.

Filled with intrigue and deeply moving, Pamela’s memoir reveals the undying bond that a child has for her mother, the loyalty between sisters, and a love which defies understanding. JoyRide is action packed, rich in detail, and full of hope.

 Readers who enjoyed The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls will love JoyRide: Life, Death and Forgiveness.

I feel I have witnessed the victorious power of love, and the overcoming resilience of the human spirit. This story of triumph over unimaginable difficulty is made all the more poignant by the awareness that it is true.

—Lewis Crownover, musician and founder, Sound of the Harvest

You will not want to put this book down until you have finished it. You will come away with the knowledge that you are never alone no matter how big the trial is that you are going through. An exciting read.

—RitaAnne Poorman, minister and author of Prayers from the Proverbs

 JoyRide, Life, Death and Forgiveness is 317 pages and includes bonus material at the end of the book, an interview with the author and discussion questions. Purchase at www.joyridebook.com

A Writer’s Life

My publicist, Mr. NewImageman, is getting things in order for a radio tour to introduce my memoir, JoyRide: Life, Death and Forgiveness to America–wow. I’m feeling a little mixed about it. I’m excited, but I’m also apprehensive. I suppose these kinds of feelings are normal.

Looking forward to blogging my experiences from this new leg of the journey.

Left-Handedness Gives Mrs. Browley Ulcers

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joyridebook.com

“That’s not the correct hand,” she said from across the room.

She could’ve been speaking to any one of the twenty-eight kids in my class. I knew how many kids there were because Mother had said that in my class of twenty-eight, another boy and I were the only students who wrote with our left hands. Mother thought left-handedness was a sign of intelligence. She said Einstein was left-handed, but perhaps Mrs. Browley didn’t see it that way.

“Pam!” Mrs. Browley snapped. She hurried across the room with a ruler pointed in my direction, ignoring the curious and startled stares of her class of students, and she leaned over me, smelling of Vicks VaporRub, with black-framed glasses balancing on her nose, and her eyes looking ten times larger than they really were. “Hold you pencil with your right hand.”

I dropped my pencil like it had stung me and grabbed it with my other hand.

“That’s more like it. Now, keep it there,” she said sternly.

All throughout winter, bug-eyed Mrs. Browley tried reforming me into a right-handed person without success. Shortly before recess one afternoon, she confronted me with a ruler held high in the air, and she slapped the knuckles of the hand in which I grasped the fat pencil. “You will not”–her jaw trembled and her pale complexion turned a deep red–”write with your left hand!”

No one had ever struck me, not even Mother, and I dropped the pencil, swallowed hard to stop the tears forming in my eyes, and stared down at the worksheet on my desk. I knew I was bad. “I don’t know what hand to use. Which one’s right?”

“What did you say?”

My lips trembled and my voice had little strength. “Which one’s right?”

“Right, not white. Pam, pick up your pencil with your right hand.”

By natural inclination, I picked it up with my left.

“Not that one!”

I switched hands and clutched the fat pencil clumsily.

“Left-handedness is a sign of retardation. Just look at your letters.” She continued her scolding in a voice loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Pam, your letters are backwards.” Her ruler pointed to the place at the top of the page. “Just look at this P in your name.”

A lump formed in my throat and I kept my eyes on the worksheet in front of me. Her voice softened. “Are you watching?”

I nodded.

“You write P like this.” Holding my right hand clutched around the fat pencil, she directed my hand and wrote P in the correct direction. “As it stands, your name is backwards. You read from left to right and you write from left to right,” she said, still guiding my hand. “Your name’s not Map,” she said, shaking her head in disgust. “Do you want to be called Map? Map is not a name. It’s a thing.”

I wanted to tell her she was wrong, tell her what Mother had said about Einstein, but that meant I’d have to speak again and she wouldn’t understand, and who wanted to speak when they had to repeat themselves? So I just shook my head.

From Chapter Nine, JoyRide: Life, Death and orgiveness By Pamela Koefoed2013

To learn more about JoyRide, see http://www.joyridebook.com

A Reason to Live

What do dangerous chlorine gas, an exploding house, and a knife attack mean to you? Hopefully nothing. But for me, these were each experiences that I had growing up with my alcohol-addicted mother. Living with her was like trying to survive in a river of crocodiles. My life was often in danger and it’s a wonder that I wasn’t eaten alive.

I survived, obviously, but there’s something else–I overcame. I’m here to give hope and help to the hurting through my creative writing style which is much like story telling. Because I suffered and loved much, I am able to provide a fresh perspective on some of the most perplexing social issues facing our world.

Interaction with readers encourages me to keep writing these vignettes. I would love to hear from you. If you would like to respond in writing to something you’ve read, here are some things to consider: How did the article impact you? Have you had a similar experience? Do you have something positive to contribute to the discussion?

You are dearly loved,

Pamela Koefoed

write@pamelakoefoed.com

http://www.pamelakoefoed.com  http://www.joyridebook.com

Pamela Koefoed.