BOWEN'S ROAD: MY WALK THROUGH THE FIRE

by Cheryl Bowen Hance

Overview

Come if you dare and walk with Cheryl through her past. Step onto the path of Bowen's all consuming fire. There are events in life that draw you in like fire. Can you feel the heat? Can you see the flames dancing and calling out to you? Bowen's Road will take you on a journey through flames that dance and promise beauty, but in truth lead straight to the very gates of Hell; consuming her instead and leaving her broken and alone. Yet; along the path of mystical flames she finds a ray of hope.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781468597547
Publisher:	AuthorHouse
Publication date:	05/17/2012
Pages:	172
Product dimensions:	6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.37(d)

Read an Excerpt

Bowen's Road

My Walk Through the Fire

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By Cheryl Bowen Hance

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2012 Cheryl Bowen Hance
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4685-9754-7

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Chapter One

The Beginning

I was born into this world as the oldest daughter to Thomas and Rose Marie Bowen. I am the oldest of eight children. There are 4 brothers and 3 sisters. I was born in Portsmouth, OH, but grew up in a little area called Owl Creek located in Pike County. I lived on a back road we refer to as a holler. The holler's entrance was a winding single lane dirt and gravel road. The road led to a dead end. The first years of my life were lived in a small log house that still stands today. That little house is located at the end of the road and sits just up on a hill. The log house was and still is surrounded by trees of all kinds and is tucked in by hills that surround it on all sides. The road that leads to the house winds along the creek bed. It seemed as though the road was made to follow the little creek. It is always lush and green in the spring and full of all kinds of wild life and birds. It was the perfect little picture. Pictures can hide awful things. I lived there with my grandmother Bowen, my parents, aunts and uncles and cousins. We were a very poor Appalachian family. We lived there until our little Blue three room house was built just down the road. The little house was built by my father, grandfather Hardin, and the local men in the family. There is one picture of mom and dad with mom's father standing in front of the house before it was finished. I still remember that old dirt and gravel road just like it was yesterday.

When you arrive at the entrance to the holler you are greeted by all types of trees that appear to be reaching across each side of the road to greet you. The trees form a cool shaded canopy to walk under in the hot summer days. I walked that road many days just to get away from home. The canopy provided shade and a cool breeze that gently blew through the trees and across my face. In the summer there was a heavy scent in the air of fresh wild flowers, such as orange Lilly's, purple irises, wild roses, and Daisy's. Black eyed Susan's and Queen Ann's lace flowers dotted the sides of the road. There was a nutty scent of the decaying leaves and broken tree limbs that had fallen onto the forest floor. I spent a lot of time on that old dirt road during my childhood. On those walks I could hear the dirt and gravel grind and crunch beneath my feet. It was quiet there, so each noise seemed to echo in your ears. The creek that runs beside the road offered its gentle symphony as it owed across the small rocks and pebbles splashing along its way. The birds sat in the trees and sang along. Sometimes a rabbit would run out onto the road scaring us both. I busy with my thoughts, and the rabbit busy with his day. When our eyes met time seemed to stop for a fleeting moment. The rabbit was startled to see me there, and I had been awakened from a walking dream. The rabbit runs away, and I laugh because we had interrupted each others' events. I loved taking those walks and picking flowers. The sun was hot and the water in the creek cool and refreshing for hot tired feet. Every detail of that walk offered me peace and closeness to God. I have always felt closest to God when in the mist of nature. It was during that time in those walks I felt the safest and in the very presence of God. It was only when I returned home I felt unloved, lost, and so very alone.

Home is supposed to be a safe place isn't it? Looking back at my childhood my home was a place of fear, hunger, loneliness, and a profound feeling of emptiness, loads of hard work and responsibilities I should never have had to endure. There is a steep hill just behind our house. I used to climb it and sit there under the trees for hours just to get away from the house and all the siblings. Even in a house filled with a mother and father, and 7 brothers and sisters I always felt alone, unloved, and unimportant. The words I love you were never spoken in our house. Looking back that seems so strange. All those people there and no one told me I love you.

As I said I am the oldest of eight children. God saw t to place me there, along with the help of my parents of course. As the oldest daughter I was my mother's helper. Our little 3 room house dad had built grew to burst at the seams. There was no running water and no bathroom in this house, and would not be until just before I entered into high school. That little blue house had one bedroom a tiny kitchen and a living room. The whole house may have been 900 square feet. That sounds big to me even now. Our home was heated buy a black cast iron pot belly stove. We burned coal and chopped wood obtained from the trees on our land. My mother cooked on a wood burning stove. She heated water on both stoves. We drew water from the well out back of the house. There were two creeks that ran along our house. The creeks ran along two sides of the house meeting at the back eastern side of the house and then owed into one slightly larger creek. Those creeks were no more than 15 to 20 feet from our house. The road ran just in front of the house and a field at the back. We were surrounded. There was a wooden bridge that crossed over the creek in the back. There was the Out House, our bathroom, a chicken coop, rabbit cages, and a pig pen. During the childhood years the only other people that lived up this holler were my uncle and grandmother who lived in the log house located at the end of the holler, my aunt Bet and her children, my aunt Mary and Uncle Bob.

My mother depended on me to help her with my siblings. Mom gave birth to the eight of us in less than 10 years. I washed diapers in the creek bed using the rocks to help scrub them. In the early years mom had to use a scrub board that sat in a large round tin tube. We carried water in buckets from the well located just outside at the back of our house. We used that same tube to bathe in. The clothes were rinsed and rang out by hand and then hung on clothes lines in the back yard. I lost my childhood to helping my mother. I washed clothes, did dishes, I cleaned the house and baby sat. I learned to cook very early. I boiled baby bottles and filled them with fresh cow's milk. My childhood was not filled with books of wonderful fairy tales and grand castles sitting up on the hill. There we no long beautiful gowns or golden necklaces drenched in beautiful diamonds and emeralds. There were no handsome princes with the promise to take me away into happily ever after. No, my truth was filled with cold winter nights crowded into a bed with at least 3 of my sisters struggling to stay warm. The days were filled with hard work and hungry bellies. You see our father was unable to work as a result of an untreated illness that destroyed the valves of his heart. The 10 of us survived on less than $300.00 dollars a month from Social Security Disability. We survived on the eggs from our chickens, meat from the rabbits and squirrels dad hunted, and the garden we grew in the summers. My mother canned fruits and vegetables in the summertime. For most of the time there was very little to eat. There were many mornings mom made water gravy using saved bacon drippings. If we were really lucky and she had the our, she would make what we called Cat Head biscuits and fried eggs. My mother made anything taste great. My mom made the best biscuit in the world! Friends of my father used to bring food to the house for mom to cook for them. Looking back I think it was their way of bringing us food without offending my father. They knew we had very little to eat most of the time. Mom made chilly, and the best sloppy Joes. The men would sometimes come early in the morning just to get her biscuits and sausage gravy.

The winters were the worst for us; especially when the fire would burn out, so we struggled to stay warm. The house always smelled of wood burning and sulfur from the dirty black coal. There was always dirt and mud mixed with wood chips and coal packed into the house by my brothers. The walls were browned with the smoke from the stoves and the cigarettes dad and mom smoked daily. It was worse in the winter. The wood and coal would be covered with snow that melted once put behind the stove. When we got hungry there were no gardens to sneak out to, and eat the fresh tomatoes or get ears of sweet corn to boil. It was a very dif cult life! Our house was surrounded by steep hills and unclear fields. The dirt was hard clay and not easily tilled for gardens. We had to pack water in large buckets to water the gardens. Sometimes we were able to pack water from the creek beds. That was only if there was water in the creek to get. It was as if we had been dropped into a cavern and surrounded by hills covered by all kinds of trees. There was only one way in and one out! My father managed to purchase close to 80 acres of the land that surrounded us. It was our wonderland. We disappeared for hours in the woods. We made jump ropes from grape vines that hung from trees. We swung from the trees on grapevines and dropped into piles of leaves. We swam in the creeks while watching out for the local snakes. We had copper heads, poison water snakes, black snakes, as well as green and brown snakes to look for. We looked for tad poles and frogs, and turtles. We climbed over cliffs made of sand rocks. We climbed trees and disturbed bee hives. These were our toys! We were on our own most of the time. We would be gone for hours and no one looked for us. Our little house still stands today. My baby sister had lived and raised her children there. There have been many changes to that little house, but even today it only valued at $800.00 dollars for tax purposes, so even with the changes you can see it never grew up.

To this day when I look back on my life growing up on Bowen Road I search for love. Where was it? I never felt love there in that place. I never felt love from my parents or my siblings. All I knew was work and unwanted responsibilities. All I wanted was to get out of that place and run as fast as I could. Why should any child have to feel that way? No one ever ask us if we wanted to come here and suffer at the hands of so many for so long. Not only did no one ask me if I wanted to be here; no one warned me I would be neglected, abused mentally and physically and sexually, by the very people who were supposed to protect me. If I had been told about the life I would lead I probably would have ran as fast as the wind in the other direction! "But then GOD!" Yes, God said, "Yes you will be born, you will suffer my precious child in more ways than you can ever know. But I will be there to pick you up and carry you when you can't take another step. I will show you love, an unconditional love, a love so powerful you will one day thank me because I carried you through it all! Your life as horrible as it may have been is nothing compared to the joy I will give you if you only have faith in me." Praise God!

As a child I recall the throbbing pain of infected teeth, untreated ear infections, mumps and measles, burning fevers, and physical pain that never saw treatment by a doctor. We had no money, no medical insurance, and the closest doctor was over 30 miles away. If we had them, Aspirin tablets were placed directly on the cavities of the teeth that hurt, cigarette smoke was blown into infected painful ears along with warm sweet oil drops. Fresh open wounds were cleaned with rubbing alcohol. When we stepped onto an exposed nail with our bare feet there were no Tetanus shots to be had. God himself must have assigned a host of angels to guard over us.

The goal of this book is to reflect the love God has shown me, not the neglect I received from all those who were supposed to love and protect me. When we fail each other as we so often do, God will always be there to pick us up, and make us whole again! We just have to ask him to enter our lives, and except him as our Lord and Savior. We must give him our whole selves and make him first in everything we do!

The Fire

There have been so many times in my life that I have ask myself, as well as many others, and God himself this question, "Why God would you stand and allow all these horrific things to take place in my life." I have been given many different explanations over the years, but the life of Job explains it to me. I remember as a young girl going to church and hearing the story of Job many times. I also remember asking God for wisdom and the patience of Job. I had no clue at that time what I was really asking for, but I opened that door and God allowed me to walk through it.

God in his awesome grace gave us free will, and then he gave us his only son Jesus Christ to save us from the mistakes we will make when we chose the wrong path at free wills door.

JOB 5:7, Page 451, The Way the Illustrated Version, states: Mankind heads for sin and misery as predictably as flames shoot upwards from a fire.

Praise God! I see that in my life! I see it many times in many choices I have made with the gift of free will. I was a child in training; a child drawn to the fire. There was a desperate need to reach out and touch the fire, while at the time hearing my Lord saying, "Cheryl, you know better than to put your hand into that fire. It will surely burn you. The pain will be unbearable! I heard my Lord loud and clear, but the flames how they danced. The fire danced with brilliant colors of red yellows, greens and blues. They invite me in and offered warmth. The flames grew larger and brighter, and called out to me! God's voice drifts into the darkness. I can only see the fire now. I just wanted to reach out and touch the fires beautiful colors and feel the warmth. God's voice is now gone as I put my hand into the flame. At first it is magical and the warmth covers me. Then just as I surrender to beauty the agony rips and burns to my sole! I am consumed by it! What was once beautiful now burns at my flesh, and screams of utterly horrible and unexplainable pain burst from my every pore. My flesh melts like wax! I scream for God to have mercy on me. I beg him to pull me out of the fire! I made the choice to walk away from God's protection and into the fire. I was the stubborn child who disobeyed my father. I saw my Jesus cry bitter tears of pain as he watched me walk into that fire for he already knew all too well how I would suffer. All he could do was watch his child make a horrible mistake, but he stood there and prayed I would cry out to him for help, and return running back to him. Jesus walked through that re and died a human death, so he could save our souls if we only ask him to. He will not remove the scars or the pain we suffer, but he will be there to heal them if we only ask. Jesus is a father with unfailing and all forgiving love! He will forgive all our sins if we just ask and chose to follow him.

That fire can be anything we chose to do outside of God's grace and mighty words of wisdom. I know there will be many fires that come our way in this life, and many of them we will have no control over; especially as children. Walking through fire is very painful, but it can also mold and shape us. It can make us strong and brilliant! We can go into fire as a lump of ugly metal, and come out shaped as mighty sword of God! But we have to allow God to be in control.

As an innocent child there were many times I was placed in a fire. I was sexually abused by a male family member. There is only one memory I can recall about the abuse, but it is enough to rip open my heart. I will not justify his actions by giving any of the details of the abuse. He is not worthy of any. That same man was also entrusted with the care of all of my siblings. He abused many in many different ways. To this day I have a small scar on my left wrist where he put his lit cigarette against my little arm and burnt me. God has protected me from other memories and I praise him for it. There are still times I feel a darkened cold wind blow across my sole. It's like those memories are trying to haunt me, but God will not allow it. I praise God for his protection. He alone knows how much I can handle.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Bowen's Road by Cheryl Bowen Hance Copyright © 2012 by Cheryl Bowen Hance. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

Preface/Introduction....................vii
Acknowledgement....................viii
Dedication....................ix
The Beginning....................3
The Fire....................9
The Fair....................11
Exposure to Darkness....................15
White Lipstick....................17
Battle Scars....................19
My Suicide Attempt....................25
The Test....................31
Love....................33
Psalms 23....................35
The Pain of Hunger and Rejection....................37
My Addiction Revealed....................40
You Are Not Good Enough for College....................42
My Journey From Home....................45
Forbidden Love....................49
Returning Home....................57
The Birth of My Beautiful Christina....................59
The Visit....................62
A Fathers Denial....................64
The Loss of My Earthly Father....................65
The Vietnam Conflict....................66
A Cold Wind....................67
The Birth of My Son....................68
We Are Blessed to Achieve Our Goals but We Are not Always Allowed to Keep Them....................71
The Message....................75
The Therapy Began....................76
The Rape....................79
The Call....................86
Again the Phone Rang....................88
Death Came Calling....................90
Saying Goodbye....................92
Seasons of Darkness....................95
A New View....................97
The New Addition....................98
Part Time Christian....................100
My Life Rededicated....................101
The Battle Begins....................103
How Do I Plan....................105
Our Beginning....................109
The Abortion....................111
A New Baby Girl....................113
ICU for Tiffany....................114
The New Life....................116
I Held on To Hope....................120
My Attempt to Move On....................122
The Bird Flew Overhead....................125
Thanksgiving 2010....................127
Hollywood Here We Come....................129
The Phone Call That Changed It All....................131
When You Speak To Me You Are All I See....................139
Moving to Virginia....................142
Michelle....................147
Another Attack....................150
I Moved Once Again....................152