In all the ruckus and finger-pointing of the lawsuit there were some funny moments. Going through my old emails I found a series of emails from a gentle, good friend that we wrote to each other while I was in mediation for a settlement. Unfortunately on that fine, sunny day, the Adventist church and its insurer had their heads up their respective asses.
I remember a few days before mediation, in a tizzy at the museum, scribbling unsent notes to the church about how much I loved them, how I'd be happy to drop the lawsuit if they'd just apologize, pay for my counseling, and, yeah, at that point pay my lawyer. I wanted an apology! God, I still want one.
I didn't get one. A measly "I'm sorry." They will never give it. They're only sorry they got sued, they're not sorry I got raped. And they certainly don't take the responsibility that is theirs.
So while the lawyers were talking, I wrote letters to a good, kind editor who reads bad poetry from the latest 24-year old whippersnapper who takes it in her mind she'll be published or else! And then befriends that same whippersnapper when she half-way accuses him of witholding key pieces of survivor literature from the Catholic public. I'd take my hat off to this gentleman, if I were wearing one.
Date: Tuesday, September 16, 2008 7:29 am
Subject:
To: michelle.stevenson1@pcc.edu
> Ah, now, prayers on you. And what I mean by prayers had nothing
> to do
> with religion and everything to do with the honey and salt of human
> beans. Brian
Brian,
My stomach is churning. I'm sitting in the middle of a lawfirm, twiddling my thumbs, listening to lawyers talk.
Argh. This is hard. Five more hours. Settle or no, I get out of here in five more hours. And 19 minutes.
-Michelle
Do not grind your teeth. Think about honey, sparrows, swallows, toothpaste, lilies, and why crawdads have one clipper bigger than the other. Steroids?
