The Glorious Muddle

glimpses of grace in the messiness of life

August 12, 2022

The Hardest Story to Write

More than two years ago, the guy in this photo asked me to write his memoir. I couldn’t say no. My husband and I had prayed for him for over a decade. Besides, he had an amazing story to tell. This guy, our friend Curtis Roberts, had just been released from San Quentin State Prison. As a matter of fact, this photo was taken on his first day of freedom.

Curtis had spent 29 years behind bars for stealing a total of $116. Of course, I would write his story. I sensed God calling me to do this.

I wrote his book during the months of lockdown, months filled with intense long-distance interviews, poring over court records, reading boxes of letters and journals, and coaxing deeply personal and raw stories from him. The work was grueling and emotional for both of us.

We quickly landed an agent, who had a top publisher interested but couldn’t close the deal. Then another agent. More publishers. Fast forward to today. We have exhausted all traditional publishing options. I am now embarking on self-publishing his book, My Lifetime Behind Bars: Redemption and Freedom for Prisoner E-25212. I truly believe it is still God’s plan for Curtis’ story to get out.

Curtis does not have the means to pay for this and I have already invested 2-1/2 years of my life, pro bono. I started a GoFundMe account this week, hoping that others–maybe you?–would want to contribute to make Curtis’ dreams come true. Even if you can’t donate, please click on this link and share it with others. https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-curtis-publish-his-book

Prisoners have not always been on my heart but they’re the people for whom my husband’s heart breaks. I’m more interested in college students and internationals. I went into San Quentin occasionally to understand my husband’s heart better. I’m ashamed to admit I thought all prisoners probably did something to deserve the punishment they were receiving; instead, I found that wasn’t the case for many of the humble inmates I met.

Curtis has never had an easy road. His life from childhood on is dramatic, painful, yet filled with hope and redemption. He wants his story to get out there into the world, to encourage other people and bring glory to God. Unless it’s published, that can’t happen.

Curtis’ case was so extreme, he became a “poster boy” for the eventual reform of California’s Three Strikes Law. He was interviewed by people like Ted Koppel, Bryant Gumbel, and the PBS News Hour while he was locked away in San Quentin.

His story was shared on an Ear Hustle podcast called “Left Behind,” which gained 750,000 listeners almost overnight. On that podcast, he said:

“I think the perception is that we’re these monsters in here. I am not a monster. I’m a stupid idiot that did drugs and stole money. I’m still human, though.”

Curtis was finally released from prison, but God had set him free on the inside long before that. His journey is one of redemption, faith, and unexpected grace amidst horrific events–rape, solitary confinement, and unending disappointment. Those difficulties are not the end of his story.

As Curtis likes to remind us, “But God …”

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July 30, 2022

Marking Grief by Remembering

Special anniversaries after a death are important times. We mark the significance by remembering.

This week I remembered. One year ago, we put my dad in his memory care home. Six months ago, he left that home for his eternal one.

I had the honor of driving my father on the last car ride he would ever take. This week, I retraced that drive. My father loved the open road. He loved everything about cars and driving. His dream job was being a long-distance truck driver. Now I was driving him.

That last week, we’d ordered pizza and we’d eaten it around my parents’ little table for the last time. We took Dad out for his last breakfast (his favorite meal to eat out). Dad kept trying to get up, saying he had to go and fill up the truck so he could go to work. It was hard to restrain him. It had become increasingly hard to calm him down when he became agitated.

The director of the memory care home came to do an assessment. Dad liked him immediately. But he didn’t understand. He thought he was going there for a job. He thought Mom was going there, too.

The day before he left, his pastor came to read Scripture, pray with him, and promise to visit. That meant a lot to Dad.

As I packed and labelled his clothes, he asked me if I’ll still give him his pills every morning. He liked me to put each pill, one at a time, on the crook of his finger as he swallowed them. I thought, who else will have the patience to do that?

The morning we left, Dad had been ready for hours when we arrived. His face looked worried. He didn’t think he’d do a very good job for the director, but he agreed to trust me. We loaded his lift chair in my husband’s truck. Steve drove the truck with my mom inside. I drove Dad in their car, filled with his stuff.

And then we left. As we drove up the mountain, especially green and lovely that day, Dad kept looking through the window at each new vista and saying, “Wow! That’s so pretty!” I can still picture him, made small with age, eyes and ears that barely worked, looking out and enjoying what he saw.

I kept glancing at the rearview mirror. “Steve and Mom are still behind us,” I’d say. When we pulled into the parking lot of his new home, Dad turned around. “Where’d they go?” He thought Steve and Mom were in the back seat.

We stayed all day, unpacking, eating lunch with Dad, getting him settled. At one point, Mom had drifted off, exhausted. He looked at me and said, “You take care of her. Promise me you will.”

He didn’t understand when we left. And yet he trusted me. It took a while for him to feel at home there. Until one day, he did.

As I read back over my journals and relived some of the stress—a new crisis every couple of days for a couple of years, my spirit felt heavy. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea to come back to this place. I started my day of remembering, appropriately enough, at a breakfast place in a renovated mountain train depot. (Dad would have loved it.) I kept moving my location—to waterfalls, creeks, park benches.

The more I read, the more the heaviness lifted. I became certain. We did the right thing for Dad. We did the right thing to take care of Mom. We did the only thing we could do.

Was that what today was about? Did I need to find vindication? To know my dad forgives me? Did he think I chose Mom over him?

The home we selected was the perfect place was for my father. He was loved. He was cared for. He didn’t understand at the time, but now I know he understands. And he would say there’s nothing to forgive.

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June 27, 2022

Why Care about Another Disease?

It seems that every month we’re asked to don ribbons in colors of pink, red, green, blue, or yellow to bring awareness to a different and deadly disease. This past month, the color has been purple and the disease has been Alzheimer’s**.

How can you possibly care about one more disease? It’s only natural to choose the disease that has affected you or someone you love personally. Dementia is very personal to me.

I realize you may not feel the same way about it. However, according to all I’ve learned this month, there is a good chance dementia will become personal to you.

Here’s why you should care enough to join the fight to end Alzheimer’s and other dementias:

By 2050, experts predict that 50% of all Baby Boomers (13-14 million people) will have Alzheimer’s. The youngest of the Baby Boomers will be 85 at that time.
2 out of 3 people who suffer with this disease are women.
Out of the 10 most common causes of death globally, Alzheimer’s is the Only One without a cure.
There is a 0% survival rate. No known survivors.
Alzheimer’s is the 6th leading cause of death in America, more than breast cancer and prostate cancer combined.
Alzheimer’s receives only 6% of the funding that cancer receives.
Every 66 seconds, someone new develops Alzheimer’s.
Since the year 2000, deaths from heart disease have decreased 7.3%, while deaths from Alzheimer’s have increased 145%.

Alzheimer’s doesn’t begin when someone starts to have memory problems. It begins decades earlier.

People often think of memory loss as the main symptom of dementia. That’s only the one that appears above the surface, the one most of us see. The graphic below shows other symptoms that are often unseen by all but those closest. These symptoms are frightening for the person suffering from dementia and frightening for the one caring for him or her. My father had every symptom listed, with the exception of seizures.

Dementia is a hideous, dehumanizing disease. If you know someone who suffers from it or has suffered, you understand. If you don’t yet, you will. And there’s a good chance that person will be you.

I’m fighting for a cure in memory of my father, Wesley, who succumbed to vascular dementia in January.

I’m fighting in honor of my mother, Patti, who is currently battling hard against Mild Cognitive Impairment, which often leads to Alzheimer’s. Every night, she lies in bed and recites “KurtTarynKurtTarynKurtTaryn” so she won’t forget the names of her two children.

I’m fighting for a cure in hopes I will not become one more statistic.

Please join the fight, in any way you can.

Bring awareness to the need for a cure.

Give money for a cure.

Pray for a cure.

Love someone who has dementia.

“Dementia doesn’t rob someone of their dignity. It’s our reaction to them that does.”

Teepa Snow, host of the Dementia Care Partner podcast

(** Alzheimer’s is just one of many dementias. Roughly 70% of people with dementia have Alzheimer’s. When you read the statistics above about Alzheimer’s, realize the numbers are magnified 30% when you think ALL dementias: vascular, Lewy body, fronto-temporal, mixed dementia, etc.)

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June 1, 2022

The Month with the Most Light

The longest day of the year–the official start of summer–occurs on June 21 this year. To me, this day is no longer Summer Solstice. Forever more, it will be the day to fight Alzheimer’s. In fact, the whole month of June is Alzheimer’s & Brain Awareness Month and purple is the color to wear.

“The day with the most light is the day we fight.”

Around the world, more than 55 million people live with some form of dementia, with the majority (60-80%) having Alzheimer’s. Two out of three of those are women. In America today, 6.5 million people suffer from Alzheimer’s. That number is projected to grow to 13 million by 2050.

Dementia is the umbrella term for a decline in memory, reasoning, or other cognitive skills that significantly interferes with daily living. It is a degenerative brain disease that progressively worsens over time. There is no cure. Not yet.

Most people on the outside only see memory loss, but dementia also affects behavior, mood, and personality. Dementia dehumanizes the sufferer. It is a hideous, slow-moving disease that can cause depression, delusions, hallucinations, paranoia, weight loss, and much more.

I first encountered the devastation of Alzheimer’s as a teenager when my grandmother had it. In 2020, my father was diagnosed with vascular dementia. He died fourteen months later. My mother is currently fighting mild cognitive impairment.

These past years, I have been the primary caregiver for both my parents. It’s been the most difficult thing I’ve ever been called to do, yet I’ve experienced special moments with both of them that I wouldn’t trade for anything.

The Solstice is the appropriate day to highlight this disease because every day with dementia is the longest day.

People suffering with dementia have good days and they have bad days; they are all long. After answering the same question 25 times–about how to do something that they have always known how to do–or worse, realizing they no longer recognize you, caregivers can feel that the day will never end.

I’m ready to fight! Will you join me?

Put on some purple and flood social media with #ENDALZ, #GoPurple, and #TheLongestDay. If you know someone personally who currently suffers from this horrible disease or who did suffer, go to Shine a Light on Alzheimer’s and make an official photo of them. Post this on social media with the statement “I’m shining a light for . . .”

This year, I’m still too busy with caregiving to do more than draw attention to this disease and the need to fight for the cure. But in future years, I hope to be more actively involved in the fight.

The alz.org website provides all the answers and resources you need. They offer support groups, a 24-hour helpline, and handy guides such as the 10 early signs of dementia and how that differs from normal age-related memory issues.

Alzheimer’s kills more people than breast cancer and prostate cancer combined. Since the year 2000, deaths from heart disease have decreased 7.3%, while deaths from dementia have increased 145%. It’s time for a cure.

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May 5, 2022

Why We All Need a Break

Image by ANTHR_Photoblog from Pixabay

My much-needed summer break from my university tutoring gig starts now, and I definitely need it. You may not have a job where you get the summer off, but hopefully, summer will still bring a more relaxed change of pace. Longer days. Vacations. More time outside to play.

We all need to take breaks.

When we do, we return to our work with a clear mind, a renewed focus, and often a solution to a perplexing problem. It increases our creativity.

My mom taught me this many moons ago. I was up late, frustrated with a gathered skirt I had to sew for Home Ec. “Just go to bed,” Mom said. “You’ll be fresher when you wake up.” She was right. I woke up to find my skirt folded neatly on my chair. An anonymous elf had fixed the troublesome seam while I slept.

Now when I get stuck and I can’t see my way forward, there’s no elf around to fix it. Maybe I’m unsure what’s up with my character or which way to go with the plot. That’s when a mini-break is called for. I do something entirely different; I take a walk, weed the garden, or work on a puzzle. Just an hour away can often do wonders to help me unravel the knot–without even trying.

“The best time for planning a book is while you’re doing the dishes.”
Agatha Christie

My favorite kind of breaks are the ones that look like I’m wasting time. I love to sit, preferably outside, and just stare into space. Manfred Kets de Vries, a leader in the field of, well, leadership, writes:

“Doing nothing is a great way to induce states of mind that nurture our imagination. Slacking off may be the best thing we can do for our mental health. Seemingly inactive states of mind can be an incubation period for future bursts of creativity.”

That’s all the encouragement I need to do nothing.

But sometimes an hour or an afternoon is not nearly enough time away. Your work feels like drudgery and it lacks the satisfaction it used to bring. A good exercise to do when this happens is to think about your motivations.

**Consider this: Why do you do what you do?**

You may have lots of reasons. For me, I write because I enjoy it; it’s a creative outlet where my imagination runs free; I believe God has called me to do it; and people tell me my writing inspires them.

Have you lost sight of your reasons? Try this. Step away from your work for an extended time (a weekend, week, or longer). Relax, enjoy life, and set your mind free. You might find you’re starting to remember your “why.” Then, rather than force yourself, you want to return to your work with a sense of the joy it used to bring.

Our minds need rest. We need to press reset often. When I do, the writing never completely leaves me. Even when I’m actively NOT writing, my dreams about my novel continue. I never stop observing, listening to dialogue, watching for interesting characters, or reading books to pull back the curtain and notice how other authors do what they do. It’s just that none of it feels like work. I’m on a break.

You’ll know when you’re ready for the break to end. My mind automatically starts to make the mental shift back to the writing. It nudges me and lets me know it’s time.

Some breaks are unintentional, even forced upon us.

I’ve taken a long unplanned time out from writing.

My novel came out during the height of the pandemic, in November 2020. Just one month later, my Dad started his journey with vascular dementia. Like all of us, I had hoped 2021 would be a better year, but it turned out to be the most difficult year of my life so far. And 2022? Life is beginning to return and I’ve found it’s much easier caregiving for one parent than two, but the stress continues.

There’s another kind of break, the kind of “leg up” we all long for.

May 17 will mark the 1-1/2 year anniversary of One Degree of Freedom. My baby’s growing up! Marketing my novel has been practically non-existent for much of its short life. But while I was sleeping, something amazing happened!

Somehow, the number of reviews and ratings on Amazon passed 100 and on GoodReads climbed to 87. This good news happened while I took my forced-on-me break.

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Taryn R Hutchison

Telling stories to help you soar

The Hardest Story to Write

Marking Grief by Remembering

Why Care about Another Disease?

The Month with the Most Light

“The day with the most light is the day we fight.”

Why We All Need a Break

We all need to take breaks.

**Consider this: Why do you do what you do?**

Some breaks are unintentional, even forced upon us.

There’s another kind of break, the kind of “leg up” we all long for.