Heaven Won't Be Heaven Without You

Heaven

Won’t Be Heaven

Without You

Denise Thurman

Cover Design by Jessica Meadows

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© 2013 Denise Thurman. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version® NIV®

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No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 11/05/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4918-2841-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-2842-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013919264

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Preface

Growing Up Thurman

College, Marriage and Divorce

Sweet Home Alabama

Tennessee is Calling Me

California—Or Bust

Reflections of My Past

The Beginning of the Rest of My Life

Lastly, Before I Pass On

I dedicate this book to my beloved family of past, present and future generations and to my dearest friends, who have supported me, encouraged me and inspired me throughout my life. Without all of you and the love and guidance of my Heavenly Father, this book would not be possible. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Preface

This book is a little bit of reminiscing and telling the stories of my experiences, including a few stories most never knew about. How I survived in the happy and dark places of my life, how I coped, how I learned, how I taught others and how I made it through with the help of the Almighty! But most importantly, how I press on toward Heaven.

In church one day there was a guest preacher that spoke directly to me. You know the kind, right? He asked if we were writing a book about our lives, what would it tell people? Would people want to read it? Is it a good book?

Well, I am making an effort at writing this one because I have something to say. Although I don’t mean to tell you boring stories of my life, I believe that everyone has a story to tell. My hope is that my story inspires and encourages you as you read about my journey in life, thus far.

Our lives should be as a grand journey where we start at the time of our birth and move another step toward heaven with each day we’re given. Of course there will be setbacks along the way but we should choose to keep climbing. At the end of the journey we will be exactly where we were meant to be. It may not be an easy journey and it will certainly take some effort. There is no coasting. We are meant to experience the journey, not bypass it as though it were meaningless. It’s been said that there’s no shortcut to anything worthwhile. Waiting for something to become easier is not the route to take. Just dig in and move forward. But that takes courage and guidance. I am halfway through my life; halfway through the triumphs and heartaches and I choose to keep moving.

A dear friend once told me that she’d thought a lot about how I made changes in my life. She has always thought of me as having a little bit of gypsy in my blood, doing the best wherever I set up camp. She’s always admired me for taking hold of my own bootstraps and going forward with what I wanted to accomplish in my life. I feel that my life is a meaningful journey and I’m always moving forward and changing. I don’t settle for long before I’m up and going again. Some people admire that and others think it is crazy. My philosophy is that I don’t want to settle because we aren’t meant to settle. That doesn’t mean being constantly on-the-go physically, but it does mean being constantly on-the-go mentally and spiritually; always moving forward and upward; not backward and downward.

It’s always good to remember our past but we aren’t meant to live there. Memories will always dwell in our minds, whether good or bad, but we can’t become stuck on them. Instead, we have to move forward even when moving forward seems most difficult. Only then can we look back on our lives and see how far we’ve come, no matter what hand we were dealt.

My desire is that my candid openness will help someone else press on with whatever journey life has dealt them and have hope because better days are ahead. I know this without a doubt. I hope that others will find healing in my pain because my greatest ministry to others comes out of my deepest hurts. I am an open book sharing my weaknesses, my struggles, my miseries, my heartaches. The things I may be embarrassed about and ashamed of, are what I believe God will use to heal others. They can find the road to recovery by putting similar mistakes and heartaches behind them and understand that healing is an option. It’s not impossible.

There are people in my life that have always looked up to me—the truth is, just like anyone else—I’m flawed. I’ve also had people beat me down. God uses weak people and I am weak! And because I am weak, I am strong. Not everyone understands that but hopefully by the end of this book, you will.

So, the more you suffer, the more you learn about yourself and who you are and what your purpose is. It took a little over 40 years but I finally understand my trials and I choose to be happy because I know exactly where I’m headed!

Heaven Won’t Be Heaven Without You

What they say is true; we won’t live in this world forever

Gone sooner than we think; at one time or another

Not upon this earth; it’s just not the plan

We will pass through this life as grains of sand.

One thing is true; I know where I will be

Surrounded by angels; singing praises to the King

I’ll see loved ones who have gone before me

And dance upon the clouds; with wind in my wings.

But Heaven won’t be Heaven without you

And there’s nothing more I can say or do

When I hear the news you’ve passed on

I’ll run to the gates and wait for you.

Should you leave this earth before me

I hope you’ll be waiting with a smile

Because if you’re there to greet me

Then all my words have been worthwhile.

Watching for your beautiful face

May I find answers to all I’ve prayed

Oh, Heaven won’t be Heaven without you

Won’t you turn to Christ today?

Growing Up Thurman

I was born the youngest of seven children and raised in and around Bloomington, Indiana. By the time I graduated from high school I had lived in several cities and several places within the state. I attended three elementary schools, two junior high schools and one (almost three) high schools.

I was born with an active imagination and definitely used it as a child and even more so today. Ever since I can remember, I was always playing make-believe. That playing around led to a dream of being an actress/writer/filmmaker and someday heading to Hollywood. But Hollywood is a pretty long way from Ellettsville, Indiana, where my life began.

We lived out in the country (what some would call the boonies). We played in huge pastures, ponds, creeks, vast woods and even graveyards. During the summer, it was fun to play in the middle of the country road in our bare feet, popping tar bubbles from the sweltering heat. That was one hard mess to clean! Sometimes we played on the roof of the house but would usually get carried away with time and not get down before Dad made it home from work. Yes, we would get into trouble for that. I think we finally learned our lesson, maybe—maybe not. It’s a wonder none of us were ever seriously hurt with the way we horsed around. As far as being punished, it only took one look from Mom or Dad and that was enough. You know the look, right? Dad would sometimes take off his belt, fold it over and snap it for reinforcement. One loud snap of his belt was all it took to know he meant business. I don’t remember him ever using the belt, just the sound of that snap did the trick.

My Dad spent a lot of time in the basement tinkering with things. He had a knack for putting things together and making them work. I would open the basement door and play on the stairs for awhile. I would pretend that it was a bus full of imaginary people and I was sitting in the back (which was the top of the stairs). I’d move down to the front of the bus with each step being a new seat. I would finally make it to the bottom where the driver sat, then slowly exit the bus and walk around the corner to the room where Dad was tinkering. Of course, I would say goodbye to the imaginary bus driver. It would be rude not to, right?

Dad often times wore a hooded sweatshirt and would pull the hood up and turn to me and laugh like Sammy Terry, the late-night scary movie host from television. A little creepy but I knew it was just Dad. After being a little scared, I would crack a smile and quietly go back upstairs and leave him to his tinkering.

There was lots of land around our house to play that included woods and wide pastures. We would mow out sections in the pasture to make rooms of an imaginary house and drag in logs or anything we could find to make furniture. The tall grass became our walls that stood taller than us.

One of my brothers drove an old red pickup around the pasture even though he didn’t have his license yet. We would all jump in the back of the truck and hang on tight as he took us on a very wild ride on the dirt roads around the pasture. He would drive by the dump on our property and tell us that this large contraption there was his spaceship and he was really an alien. I think the spaceship was some sort of an old furnace but not really sure. I certainly know it was not a spaceship—or was it? We certainly had imaginations! There was never a dull moment.

We also had a set of old wagon wheels—no buggy—just the bar and huge wheels. We would actually sit on the middle bar and roll down the hill hanging on for dear life! There were no brakes! Somehow—we all survived!

Often we would walk or sometimes ride our bikes up the road to a neighbor’s house and take a dip in their pond on a hot summer day. The pond was situated in the middle of a field of cows and filled with muddy water. Now that’s living the life! Trying to get out of the pond with slimy mud and nothing solid to grab onto was the harder trick, but we always managed to climb out.

There was another larger pond in the middle of the woods that froze over in the winter. One time my brother and his friends put ice skates on me and grabbed my hands and took off flying across the ice—(wheeee!!!), only to let go of me and send me crashing straight into a sticker bush! I was never seriously hurt but I paid a heavy price for their amusement, although I don’t think they really meant me any harm.

I fondly remember taking family road trips to Florida or sometimes Little Rock, Arkansas. Mom and Dad were in the cab of the truck and seven kids were riding in the camper—talk about being close. It was miserable when we all had sunburns and were packed in there like sardines. Nonetheless, the memories are wonderful and I wouldn’t trade the times we spent together on vacation for anything.

Dad had a movie camera in his hand quite often and filmed us growing up, mostly on vacations, just being silly kids and all of our birthday parties. I recently watched the home movies with Dad that had been converted to a couple of DVDs.