About Us

Hi everyone!  Just a short note to let you all know that I am looking forward to meeting with all who will be able to join the MISS Coffee this Saturday for our "mother's day" get together.  :) 

I have received all of the various comments and RSVP's, but am a bit challenged in knowing how to reply to each one of your.  I also tried to upload a photo from my computer, to no avail. 

I wanted to suggest (if you want) that everyone bring with you a picture of your son to share with the rest of us. 

I will have a piece of paper, sitting at a table, marked with big letters:  "M I S S"...that way you will know you have found the right folks to have coffee with on 5/7 @ 10:00 am.  :)

Until then,

Hugs to all - Sheryl

Well, I am grateful for the finding of this site.  My son is 31, never been in any trouble his whole life.  He had a drug problem back in 2011. He came to the realization of a problem and asked for help. He entered a rehab and did very well and has not had a problem since.  Unbeknownst to us he had traded one addiction for another one. He is married with three small children.  We love his wife and of course our grandchildren. She does not work outside of the home and takes care of the children. Two weeks ago he posted a add on Craig's list and arranged a meeting with an under age child.  The arrangement was with the FBI.  He was arrested immediately and has been there ever since.  This has devastated the entire family. His wife has to move. She is coming to my husbands and my home with the kids.  His little brother of 21 is angry.  His father and I are scared.  He admitted childhood sexual abuse by a distant relative  to us last year and we asked him to get help.  He said he would and never did.  We believed him.  Now we are in this nightmare and are very scared.  I want so many things.  I want my son to be alright. I want to know my part in this nightmare. I want my son to get help.  Thank you all in advance for any mental help you can give me.  I know this is a long hard road but I will not give up on my son.  We love him very much.

Tomorrow is the big yard sale.  Finally, getting the garage back to well, being a garage.  The house is on the market and it is time to let go of all of this stuff and begin our new chapter.   I am not really sure what that means.  We do want a smaller home, big yard so we have space for the dogs and my thoughts.  Is there really enough land to carry the real estate that exists between my ears?  I am not sure.

We cleared all the closets and other stuff to move last November so the house could be listed for sale.  The residue of our lives that we no longer find useful went into the garage to await “the sale”.  I don’t even think there is a lot of Greg’s stuff in the sale.  I really don’t know where most of it is.  The clothing I think is mostly in boxed and we have his apartment worth of furniture in storage.  All that stuff and what it means, is so blurry, like I wasn’t present in the decision to pack up and store it.  I cannot bring myself to do anything but know it is somewhere, waiting for him to come home and make a new home, like this never happened.

But, we are indeed selling Greg’s car.  It has sat in the driveway since December.  The engine won’t start because the battery is dead, like the hope for a better outcome became.  God has a way of making you do things that are hard.  Before Greg went in prison, he got pulled over for expired plates.  He figured, why get the inspection and pay to renew the registration for two months for a car that won’t last until he comes out.  I can’t say that I blame him.  I get it.  So he had pending charges that could be dismissed is we sold it before May 17. If we didn’t sell it he would have acquired hundreds more dollars in fines, charges and etc.   I dare say that if that wasn’t hanging there to take care of for him, the car could go the same way as all the rest of his stuff.  Put someplace for safekeeping.

So tonight, I have a friend, student of mine in my class who heard I was selling a car.  She asked the details and wants it for her indigent sister to help her get to her doctor’s appointments.  It didn’t even make it to the sale tomorrow.  Effortlessly, letting it go was graced upon us.  No dickering, negotiating, conditions, concerns about finances, so easy.  As usual, what we really need to have happen is divinely inspired. Hell, it’s even for a good cause, someone that needs this broken car that belonged to a broken young man.

Why can’t my heart let of him not needing this car?  Why is it still hard that he has nowhere to go, no choices, while I watch and wait adding more thought structures to the real estate in my head?  My mind should be for sale by owner, I am clearly offering free rent to these sad thoughts.  I miss you Greg.

Sigh. Your Mom

By Becky Hieter 4/19/16

How to clean an oven

Day 1 –

Prepare the Oven

• Remove the black racks, now coated with a film from the crusty oven. 
• Curse son that allowed pizza to drip into the bottom of the oven.
• Blame every other oven user for the mess inside. 
• Swear this will never look like this again. 

Clean the Oven

• Set oven to self-clean. 
• Open all the doors and windows in anticipation of stinky smoky smell.
• Dismantle smoke alarms
• Pretend not to notice.

Wait until faces are again visible, emerge for the bomb shelter. Close the windows and doors. Reassemble smoke alarms, add working batteries.

Side Work

Place racks into the sink to soak overnight.  Place many chemicals in the sink. Add water, Run from the room.

Go to bed.

Day 2 –

Post  Cleaning

• Stumble into the kitchen in search of coffee.
• Observe old greasy rack in the sink soaking.
• Scrub a little bit at the blackish spots noticing the racks really were not that color. 
• Scrub a little more, seeing the silverfish hue immerges.
• Add more hot water for posterity sake to improve soakability.

Get coffee; leave the kitchen, intend to come back right after coffee has begun to work.

Later that day, after accomplishing everything but this:

Return to scrubbing the racks, employ elbow grease and any grease cutting substance that will return the racks to chrome sheen.  Some of the black is very stubborn and appears to be permanently the new color on sections of the rack.  Some of the rack is shiny clean.  The black sections now make it look dirtier than when the rack was clean even though they are not considered polka dots on the silver heifer style rack.

Reconsider color scheme for the kitchen, country kitchen is a popular theme; cow colored racks would look nice in there.

Oven Proper

• Open the oven door to see what the “laser clean” function accomplished.
• Notice the ash in the bottom, oooo and ahhhh in wonderment.
• Clean the ash and preserve it in an urn for the time capsule.
• Wipe the side and the glass to remove any remaining debris
• Pause to appreciate the reflection glowing back at you.  Close enough – looks good with the racks.

Oven Door

It’s hard not to notice that despite the cleaning of the glass both inside and out that much food drip residue still is apparent on the tempered glass.  Upon further inspection – the triple panes, two inside and one out, appear to have been dripped into even though there are no holes to allow this to happen.  It reminded me of my son that could become dirty in a sterile room.  The unnamed church can explain these mysteries to you.  I cannot.

I cannot sell a house with a gross oven; no one will buy the “gross oven house”.  We will be marked by realtors, neighbors; future places to live won’t accept us…  Wait – we have tools, I will take it apart to clean it.  Our reputation can be saved. 

Technically, I won’t, as soon as I ask my handy hubby if he has “a nut remover thingy that looks like this”, he will no longer allow me to proceed and is on this job.  The tools come out in force.   After separating the front and back of the door, by removing the screws, we clearly see the dirty glass, no entry point for filth and interesting enough, nothing around the glass is remotely dirty.  I still don’t know what to think about that.

 The glass is however held firmly in place.  There is a three inch gap we can jimmy into that he now suggests I use to squish my hand into to the clean the glass, all, three, panes.  Bear in mind, panes 1 & 2 inside the oven are separated by a ¼ inch gap.

I wait for him to leave the room, re-examine the door and see some suspicious brackets that appear to be removable and ask for another wrench type thing that can get these non-standard nuts (not me) out of the oven.  I am pretty sure that one of two things will happen, we will get a new stove, or I can remove the glass.  We were able to remove the glass.  The panes were cleaned after much scrubbing, replaced and reassembly was easier than disassembly.

The oven is now cleaner than when it was new.  Not that you can tell, the bulb inside of the oven is burnt out.

If anyone lives in the Austin, Texas area, contact me if you would ever want to meet. Thanks,

Lord, help me to be like Abraham and patiently endure all that's necessary in order to see Your will accomplished in my life.  I don't want to let anger over a situation shut off or delay anything You want to do in me.  I don't want to be like people whose own anger keeps them from moving into all You have for them.  I don't want to let my own impatience keep me from receiving the promises You have for me.

When God made a promise to Abraham, because He could swear by no one greater, He swore by Himself saying, "Surely blessing I will bless you, and multiplying I will multiply you." And so, after he had patiently endured, he obtained the promise.  Hebrews 6: 13-15

Greg called this morning from Craggy Correctional Center.  He was so very upbeat and had good things to say about his early days there.   He wasn't due to transfer for another month but the facility had a riot, went on lock down and sent the entire pod he is in out of the program because of the riot.  30 beds opened up immediately so he is there now.  A blessing for us and sending prayers for those shipped out. 

He went to orientation today, I can't wait to hear more about what he learned, and the great news is he will have scheduled time in this program every day, at least 9-1 and the afternoon if he chooses to attend.  He is so much better with a structured schedule and he sounded so excited about the planned routine of classes and the other things they will be doing.  He only sounded less engaged when he talked about the days off, Friday, Sat & Sunday.  He said not all the inmates show up for afternoon sessions and I suggested that he do it even if some of the other guys don't.  It is after all, something to do.  I think he will unless the information is more boring than the idea of filling time like all of the rest of the hours he is inside.

I did not imagine that I would hear excitement from him about even these little things and this is a breath of fresh air.  I finished the call and dashed out to a meeting for which I was already late and felt like crying the whole way.  Heck, I still do.  I don't know why I want to cry, it is such a relief to hear him looking forward to each day.  He ended his call with the words I need to hear, "Mom, I am safe here".  That makes me want to sob.  I hate the worry and don't live in it because I choose not to.  It must be reside under the surface for his assurances to affect me so much.

I treasure the calls with him.  We correspond a lot but only talk briefly maybe once a week.  He was called for counts while on the phone with us, ran to be present and then came back and called again.  We had almost a half an hour with him.  I miss him so much.  He said it’s easier to get to the phones and hear at Craggy so he will call more often.  I sure hope so.

We all have our own ways of coping.  My husband announced that we are down to 1869 days now, he seemed pleased.  I was mad.  I told him to never tell me that again until it’s under a year.  He is patient and didn’t snap back. I also get somehow this “counting” comforts him.

I have been sleeping lately.  I think I now have almost 5 days of decent sleep now.  I am feeling clearer and less anxious and am grateful for these little things.  Thanks my M.I.S.S. family for being here. These blogs are helping me, I hope they help you by relating these daily and ups and downs.  It si all about love.

Well, as usual I waited until the very last minute to finish my taxes.  Our sons still have me do theirs, the price is right for them and I complete them as soon as the paperwork comes in. Mine, no, I dawdle until the last day for no particular reason.

 I did Greg's taxes this year; it is the last time for as long as this journey of his residence in the NCDOC is part of his world.  So the end of his financial freedom is here as well.  Already, the State of NC retained his refund as payment to NC court system.  For what, I don't know, but I hope it contributes to his fines, lawyers’ fees and etc.  Chapter closed and I am sad.

So the last two years have been preparation metaphorically and logistically of doors closing behind my son Greg and my dreams of his future.  Don't get me wrong, I am not giving up, it’s just that the future won't look anything like the one I envisioned.

So I close the door on this financial year, the accounting of the value of my hours, not my tears, my dollars earned and dispersed, not laughter shared and love received, the tally of past wages compared to future earning and no accounting for the hope and prayers that brought us through the passage of time.

One more chapter finished. Onward, counting the days, hours, months and years to come, as I did this one.  One day at a time.  

News this week is that Greg now resides in Asheville, NC where he will stay until he completes the New Directions program for Drug and alcohol treatment.  We are glad this has happened. We awaited this move for this specific program and so that thereafter he can move forward with vocational training and maybe college academics inside.

All things considered for incarceration, beginning this training has moved forward faster than we feared it might.  While this is the 4th facility in less than 4 months, he has moved from County jail to processing center, from there to whatever Tabor City was, a waiting area maybe, to now the beginning of some of the recommendations by the judge for his sentencing.  Greg becomes quickly discontented and wants to be doing something other than mark the days off the calendar.  This is good for keeping him focused on some things that are positive outside of his own efforts to be in that frame of mind.  I hope this proves to be a good placement for him for now.

Greg's spirits were pretty good when we spoke Wed. morning, he had yet to go through orientation and overall, he is a champ with his attitude and being able to let go of the "negative reality" for the opportunity to do something with this time other than waste it in a really bad place in his mind.

All that said it is not without effort that we also endeavor to keep our spirits up and we do okay also.  I search for happy things to write about daily, things to make him laugh and therefore they make me laugh also so this is helpful for me too.

I do appreciate that people not in this situation that know our Greg is inside the walls (a very small universe of supporters) and sometimes the things they say do astound me with the message I receive as compared to what they are trying to do to offer comfort.

So today, a very religious friend, (I am spiritual not religious) comes up with that beatitude glow and says that when she thinks of me, it makes her imagine what Mary felt like as she watched her son die on the cross.  WHAT?  I was gracious, thanked her for her message of God's will leading to amazing outcomes, blahblahblah.  I thought I was off the hook and tried to move on to another person in the room and she holds tightly on my not reciprocating grip, says a few more Jesus/God/Mary related scripture messages then says - Well at least you know he is safe now. 

So I look at her, maybe a little less gracious and ask, You Do Know he is in prison right?

I really do appreciate her prayers and sentiments, know that there are surely times I have offered comfort in ways that I said things that may have been less than sensitive or as intended but does anyone else feel sometimes that the comparisons can be a bit, off putting?

I know I sound ungrateful, I don't mean to be.  I will continue to be grateful for her and anyone else's prayers, whatever denomination, faith, religion, intention for our peace and overall.  I will also offer the prayers and continue to for others. 

I did have another man this morning that asked if I would include a letter of prayer and support he wants to forward on to Greg with my correspondence.  That’s a BIG YES, please write to him, and tell him anything that uplifts you as it may do the same for him.

Please don’t ask me to imagine him dying on the cross.

I hope this doesn’t offend anyone.

Good Evening my MISS mom friends. I am so very grateful for this group.  It does comfort me to know that I have others to share this journey with.  I was thinking today how the daily letters I write have been helping with my coping and aiding the healing that I need to go on.

Early on - Greg let me know that the sadness, helplessness and pain I was sharing made his time harder, only compounding the guilt and shame associated with the condition he finds himself living for the next 5 or so years.  

So I decided to live my life in a way that I could do a better job of setting this example of life is what we make of it and journeyed forward to find things that offer fulfillment and a type of comfort I can share.  With more intention, I do things in my daily living that create and bring joy, faith and hope for not just me but with others also.  

I look for beauty and write about it.  I seek the vision of transcendence that comes from rising above suffering and share the results.  I actively practice gratitude to remind me that this space that I live in is more than the pain.  I was blessed to spend a few days at the beach with my niece and her three children.  We hugged at the end of our visit and we talked about the fact that I am the happiest sad person we know.

I can be both.  I can be happy and sad.  I can have faith and fear.  I can decide which one gets to drive everyday, every moment on some days when I get hard news to bear.  

When we visited Greg last Wednesday it was such a great visit.  We talked, laughed, shared and dreamed together.  He loves that I show him this world out here and all the goodness there is to offer.  It gives him hope and each letter rises him up from the hopelessness and doom and gloom.  He loves to talk about "out here", "in there" is the same everyday and an act of endurance.  He can bear it if he is not alone.

That is much like me with all you beautiful women.  I am not alone in this journey.  I have good days and not so good days and you understand, don't judge and relate in ways others cannot.

We are Mom's, fears, tears, unconditional love. Thanks for being here.

Praise God my husband and I were able to see our son after almost 4 years. Our first time ever being in a prison, and going through the whole process...a little overwhelming.  But God is so sufficient and good.  We are in the visitation room waiting for our son and I look over and there is another MISS momma visiting her son.  She was there to comfort and encourage me after a bitter sweet visit.  We were so blessed to see our son, but so sad to see him still not doing well...so thin ;(    I will continue to trust God!