The Beginning

Dear David,

Today is my birthday. I am 29 years old. Crazy, isn’t it? I can’t believe how old we are. I look at Skhi, 8 years old, and I remember when she was born (and a time before then too!).

Your birthday is coming up too. I am not sure if you will receive this by then, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY. You’re 31 years old. 31. Wow.

I apologize that I haven’t written sooner. I’ve been trying to figure out what to write you. You’ve hurt me. I think out of everyone in my life, you have hurt me the most. And not just personally me, but to the people I love the dearest, including yourself. Yes, David, I love YOU so much. You’re my brother and you’ve hurt yourself so much these past 10+ years that it has in turn hurt me. I don’t want you in prison. I don’t want you doing drugs or hurting others. I want you safe. I want you to feel true joy and happiness and not like the feeling you get from a high.

If I could have one birthday wish it would be that you were healed completely of your addictions, that you would be home with your daughter, and that you would completely surrender your whole life to Jesus Christ. That would be the best birthday present – ever. I would give all of my future birthday wishes toward your healing.

I was in Colorado for Thanksgiving visiting a friend and I went to her church. The pastor told a story about a man who was homeless and who spent 20 years drinking and getting high. It broke my heart because all I could think of was you. That man could be you and that you are also going down that path.

And then the pastor continued his story. The man one night repented and gave his life to Jesus, and Jesus completely cured him of all addiction. His life completely turned around. He went on to study the Bible and help others through their hard times. God redeemed his life and choices.

So, of course I cried harder thinking of you. I believe in the hope that Jesus promises. I know that there is hope that you will one day be healed and redeemed. I don’t know what will bring you to Jesus, but I pray for the same miracle to happen to you. Because it is possible.

I’ve put up a wall with you. When I saw you last I was so angry with you. Because I see who you could be — I see your potential, you’re my brother, my blood — I love you! So, I am bringing down the wall. I want to have conversations with you. I want to know who you are now; what you’ve been through. I know God wants me to talk to you, so I will. I just ask that you take our relationship seriously. Remember that I am your baby sister. Love me.

So with that said…

  • What do you want to talk about?
  • What is your day like?
  • Tell me the story of when you first started doing drugs. Be honest.

Our lives are so completely different from one another. I want to know about yours. Even if it is ugly or you’re ashamed of it — and even if you’re not. Tell me honestly who you are; what you have seen; what you have experienced. Confess if you feel comfortable.

I love you,

Tawny

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5 thoughts on “The Beginning

  1. My name is Lois Krauss, I am the one that posted the Sotero(Dave)Cerday blog because (Ginny) Regina, Esther Jean Goodin’s youngest daughter called me and told me Norma’s son David was posting lies about my grandfather. David only told lies and never backed it up with proof, while I posted pictures and documents. The reason I know so many details is because the last 10 years of his life he lived with us. My mother Grace Keeler, my dad Taylor, my brother Gene, and my sister Frances. If you want to send me an email, my email is granntlk@att.net

  2. I forgot to mention, my Grandmother Delia is the only white woman buried in the Eschiti Indian Cemetery. My brother Gene, my sister Frances and I put up the headstone in the Indian Cemetery on her son Raymond’s 92nd birthday. Louis Eschiti knew the exact spot where our Grandmother was buried and showed the spot to us. my email was misspelled in the above comment. grannylk@att.net. My mother Grace is the picture with the headband on her forehead. That was a wedding picture when she married my dad. Lois

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