Recently I've been in a discussion with some friends from the wrong political party about whether taking the money from the wealthy and giving it to the poor will actually eradicate poverty in America. I thought that using sound logic, in the form of math, would demonstrate the error in their thinking. No such luck. But after spending so much time researching the facts, I thought I'd post it here for more open-minded and logical readers to consider.
Facts:
According to Forbes Magazine, there are 385 billionaires in America. Their net worth (not income) is $12.93 trillion.
According to the Wall Street Journal, there are 2.5 million millionaires in America. This includes the 385 billionaires mentioned above.
The combined net worth of all millionaires (including billionaires) in America is $32.7 trillion.
According to statistics on the Internet, anywhere from 14-16 million Americans are unemployed.
The IRS collects about $2.4 trillion a year in taxes, after refunds. (IRS.gov)
The top 1% of wage earners pay 33% of the taxes collected. ($792,000,000,000 annually).
The top 5% of wage earners pay in 53% of the taxes collected. $1,272,000,000,000 annually).
The top 10% pay 65% of the taxes collected. ($1,560,000,000,000 annually).
The top 25% pay 83% of the taxes collected (taxesandgrowth.ncpa.org) $1,992,000,000,000 annually).
The top 50% pay 96% of the taxes collected (IRS). ($2,304,000,000,000 annually).
The bottom 50% of wage earners pay 4% (IRS). ($96,000,000,000 annually).
According to a study done by the University of Michigan, 32.3 million Americans (including children) live in poverty.
Poverty is defined as $11,161 for a single adult; $14,361 for a couple; $14,787 for a single parent.
Included in this figure are college students and retirees who work part-time, (but no numbers were available.)
According to the U.S. Census Bureau, only 2.2% of Americans are chronically living in poverty.
Out of the 32.3 million Americans in poverty, 675,867 are chronic (never move out of poverty).
According to the U.S. Census Bureau, there are about 307,212,123 people living in America (including children)
There are 117,538,000 households in America.
There are 99,270,000 people employed in America.
These employed people earn an average of $49,777 annually. (real median income)
According to the Small Business Association, about 44% of the jobs in this country are created by small business. The other half are employed by major corporations.
According to www.taxesandgrowth.ncpa.org, the cost to businesses for compliance to the federal income tax was $148 billion. (just throwing that in since corporate taxes are included in the $2.4 trillion the government takes in every year.
A true story. My daughter, who is 19 years old, recently quit college so that she could find a full-time job to help pay her bills. She currently works 30-35 hours per week at a restaurant in Garner. Her best night to date was $105 this past Sunday. On Monday she made $15.00. On Wednesday night she made $13.00. Her typical Friday/Saturday income is about $60 for the two shifts. Her average week she might earn $150.
Laura’s rent is only $150 per month. She shares a home with four room-mates. Her auto insurance is $75.00 per month. Her share of utilities is $40 per month. Laura’s disposable income for food, clothing, gas, prescriptions and necessities is about $335.00 per month. I contacted the Wake County social services office to see if Laura qualifies for any assistance until she can find a job that produces more income. According to them, she might qualify for $118 in food stamps per month. If Laura continues to earn the same amount and receives the $118 per month in food stamps, her annual income will be around $9,216.00 – assuming she doesn’t take a vacation or get sick. My daughter falls into the poverty category.
Now let’s assume that the government decides that the ultra-rich people in America – the billionaires, need to help Laura and the other 32.3 million Americans living in poverty. They start with the billionaires – all 385 of them, who’s combined net worth (not annual income) is $12.93 trillion dollars. When you take everything that the billionaires own – homes, cars, jewelry, investments, cash, etc and divide it among the people who are living in poverty, Laura’s “fair share” of that wealth is $400,309.60, putting Laura in the top 5%. That’s every man, woman and child currently living in poverty in America. The 385 former wealthy Americans are now the only poor people in America. Sounds like a good trade-off.
If every one of those poor people were frugal and only spent the national average of $49,777 annually, that money would last them about 8 years. If they’re really frugal and only spent $15,000 a year (just above poverty, but not enough to receive assistance), they would be able to survive for about 27 years…assuming there is no inflation and the cost of living doesn’t go up. Those that survived – because that’s all they’d be able to do on $15K – would again fall into poverty. The smart ones, like my daughter who is bright enough to finish college, would likely find some gainful employment after using that windfall to pay for her college expenses. Those who are not so bright will probably blow through the $400K in a matter of months and will be worse off than before they had the money stolen from the wealthiest Americans.
But there’s a problem. The taxes once collected from the top 1% of Americans would decline by 33%.. or about $792 billion a year. The IRS would be forced to increase taxes on the rest of us to make up for that difference. With only a little over 99 million Americans working, that deficit would cost each one of us an additional $8,975.52 per year. But that’s not fair! Why should the rest of us pay another $9K per year in taxes? Tax the rich – the millionaires (since there are no more billionaires in America). At this point no one is living in poverty any longer, but there are still as many as 16 million Americans unemployed. Their unemployment will soon run out because the government cannot afford to continue to pay them.
Here we go again: Subtract the $12.93 trillion already stolen from the former billionaires from the $32.7 trillion net worth of the millionaires and you’ve got $19.8 trillion remaining. These are the top 5% of wage earners in America. Let’s take all the net worth of the millionaires (not just their income, but everything they own) and distribute it among the unemployed. Now, those poor jobless people get a windfall of $1,237,500 each. But no one needs that much money. Let’s be fair and divide it among both the employed and the unemployed. At this point, we would each get $171,177.63. If we’re frugal, we can make that money last as long as 11 years @ $15K per year.
Oh no! We’ve solved the poverty problem in America for a decade or so, but now the IRS has a shortfall of another $540 billion per year. The revenue coming into the government for things like national defense, interstate commerce (the only Constitutional obligations of the federal government) has taken a fatal blow. They cannot pay for education, research and development..not to mention pay the interest on the national debt of $413 billion annually. Unless the U.S. pays the interest on our national debt, foreign nations will call the notes due and national parks and other federal and state lands will be seized to satisfy the debt….but before we get to that point –
Because the corporations that hire more than half of our workers are owned by the people in the top 5%, those businesses are filing bankruptcy and as many as 45 million Americans have lost their jobs by year two. The small businesses that once depended upon the large corporations and their employees to keep them in business begin to fold as well. The IRS finds that it cannot collect taxes and lays off the 16,000 new employees hired by this administration and the other agents as well. The government shuts down, as does Wall Street as there are no investors either. Within a matter of 12-15 months, the United States becomes one of the poorest nations on earth. All infrastructure, such as military, police, fire, EMT, CDC, the Department of Transportation, Department of Energy and all other agencies send government employees to the unemployment office, which has been closed down too because there is no money to pay any government employee. Foreign governments buy land and homes for pennies on the dollar, or foreclose to recoup loans secured by our property on behalf of our government.
Churches and charities are unable to continue their work and millions suffer. Hospitals cannot obtain life-saving drugs because the pharmaceutical companies have gone out of business. Doctors and staff are not getting paid, and creditors are demanding payment for student loans, medical equipment and malpractice insurance. Law suits have sky-rocketed as people seek any revenue still remaining. Ironically, lawyers are still in demand, but they’re having to settle for bartered goods in lieu of cash.
On a good note, we no longer have an illegal immigration problem. Illegal aliens have found it impossible to earn, (or steal), and have returned to their native countries. Tragically, our enemies have no trouble crossing our borders and use this opportunity to set off dirty bombs in some areas. Gangs have taken over most of America and fight radicals who muscle in on their territory. Innocent Americans suffer at the hands of thugs and foreigners; and from neighbors who are desperate for even a scrap of food. Those who fled to the mountains thinking they could hide from the law breakers discover that they are safe nowhere. Armies of gangs burn, rape, and pillage their way across our once beautiful nation. Not a seed is left to plant for future crops. Thousands die daily from starvation and violence. America dissolves into chaos…all because some thought that the rich did not do their fair share to help the poor.
There is no Utopia. Socialism and Communism have never worked in any culture. Greed for what belongs to someone else only makes us poorer. Far better to learn to live within our means than to demand rights that do not exist. It is morally wrong to desire to take what belongs to someone else.
Every Daughter Should Be a Daddy's Girl
I have this photo of Jennifer when she was about 8 years old. I would soon turn 40. Of all of my photos of Jennifer, I suppose this one is my favorite. It's one of the few of the two of us together. I'm not fat and actually look much younger than my age at that time; and Jennifer looks happy - even proud of her dad.
This past weekend, we drove Laura Lee home to the apartment she and Jennifer shared in Delaware. It was so strange to be in the room in which Jennifer passed away. An eyeglass case, drawings by the kids taped to the wall and refrigerator, the mass of tangled wires where Jennifer connected just about every appliance in the apartment to one functioning outlet....the side of the bed where she slept, her red polo shirt on the chair I had given her. I thought that if I focussed really hard, perhaps I'd sense her spirit lingering there, because I know she wasn't ready to go as soon as she did. Instead, I felt the burning of my eyes, the urge to sob, and the hole in my heart where my daughter should be.
We said a quick and tearful goodbye to Laura and headed home, driving west to avoid Baltimore and Washington traffic. The Maryland countryside was beautiful, clean, and green. Chris Tomlin played softly over the car cd player. Pam dozed for a little while, and as I drove, my mind was drawn back to that photo from 1991; and to that impish and beautiful face smiling at the camera. Some might think that smile reflected pride in her dad, but I know that she was proud of herself for getting her way. She had my attention. Jennifer craved attention, and if she couldn't get it through her charm, she would settle for negative attention. On this occasion, she and my former wife battled for my attention, and she won. Her step-mom was gracious enough to allow her the victory and snapped this picture; and now it is my favorite photo of Jennifer. It's a picture of her before the cancer, before the drugs, the streets, the physical and mental abuse; before she had to ride the special bus to school and before the doctors decided she needed to be medicated to pay attention in class.
In the car, I talked silently to God and asked Him to assure me that Jennifer was safe and with Him. What happened next could be considered wishful thinking and self-deception, but I kind of think it was similar to what the apostle John experienced on Patmos. I believe God opened a portal between His Spirit and mine and allowed me to see Jennifer as she is now.
It only lasted a few seconds. In my mind I could see God sitting on a bench. No streets of gold or huge throne, just a bench in front of a gray or whitish wall. He looked like paintings I've seen of Jesus, but I suspect He donned that image so that I could see Him. God's - or Jesus' face was looking down. In his lap lay the head of a young woman. She appeared comfortable laying there in the Creator's lap. His finger twirled a lock of curly light brown hair. She was wearing a shimmering white dress that clung to her figure - no doubt an expensive fabric. Her skin was more golden than tan, and her face bore a striking resemblance to Jennifer's face in my picture - only a bit more mature.
I don't know if Jennifer could see me or not, but she suddenly sat up. Then she stood up facing me. As though seeing herself for the first time through my eyes, she turned to God and exclaimed, "I'm pretty!"
"You're beautiful." God corrected. She was.
She twirled around a few times, her dress flowing with her; her shoulder length curls bouncing off one another. The dress was knee length and sleeveless. Jennifer wore no shoes. Her calves were muscled and her arms were taut and strong. Neither thin, but especially not heavy, she appeared every bit an athlete. There were no tattoos, no circles under her eyes, no swollen ankles, no need for sunglasse to hide her pretty brown eyes.
"I feel so strong!" she insisted, spinning around again. Indeed, she looked as though she could leap great distances and run as fast as a cheetah. "But Father, why do I look so young?"
God reached out and touched her face near the corner of her eyes. "Because here there are no hurtful words that will cause you to cry; no pain to wrinkle and crease your flesh. Here you are safe and there is nothing to fear. Your old body began to die as soon as you were born; but this body is eternal - as I intended from the beginning."
Jennifer bent down and hugged the Father. She kissed Him on the forehead. Then she leaned with her hands on His shoulder and turned her face towards mine and smiled. "I love you Father. I love my Daddy too, but I'm glad to be here with my real Father."
The vision started to close now; but I heard God say to Jennifer before the portal closed completely, "I'm glad your're finally home too. Every daughter should be a Daddy's girl."
Jennifer never was a daddy's girl here. Oh, she was loved by myself and by a couple of other men whom she called "Dad" - because we treated her like a daughter; but she didn't really have a daddy here who devoted the time to her so that she could lay in his lap and know that she had his undivided attention. She had dads who would offer wise advice and who would worry about her and come to her aid when she needed help; but she didn't have a daddy that listened to her dreams or told her how beautiful she is. Jennifer knew that we loved her, but we couldn't take away her pain or ease her fears or protect her from evil - not like her Heavenly Father can. I'd like to think that I would die for her, but I could never raise her to life again, or give her a perfect body, a sound mind, a joyful spirit. She deserved those things. And God is right: every daughter should be a daddy's girl. Especially the Jennifers in this world.
This past weekend, we drove Laura Lee home to the apartment she and Jennifer shared in Delaware. It was so strange to be in the room in which Jennifer passed away. An eyeglass case, drawings by the kids taped to the wall and refrigerator, the mass of tangled wires where Jennifer connected just about every appliance in the apartment to one functioning outlet....the side of the bed where she slept, her red polo shirt on the chair I had given her. I thought that if I focussed really hard, perhaps I'd sense her spirit lingering there, because I know she wasn't ready to go as soon as she did. Instead, I felt the burning of my eyes, the urge to sob, and the hole in my heart where my daughter should be.
We said a quick and tearful goodbye to Laura and headed home, driving west to avoid Baltimore and Washington traffic. The Maryland countryside was beautiful, clean, and green. Chris Tomlin played softly over the car cd player. Pam dozed for a little while, and as I drove, my mind was drawn back to that photo from 1991; and to that impish and beautiful face smiling at the camera. Some might think that smile reflected pride in her dad, but I know that she was proud of herself for getting her way. She had my attention. Jennifer craved attention, and if she couldn't get it through her charm, she would settle for negative attention. On this occasion, she and my former wife battled for my attention, and she won. Her step-mom was gracious enough to allow her the victory and snapped this picture; and now it is my favorite photo of Jennifer. It's a picture of her before the cancer, before the drugs, the streets, the physical and mental abuse; before she had to ride the special bus to school and before the doctors decided she needed to be medicated to pay attention in class.
In the car, I talked silently to God and asked Him to assure me that Jennifer was safe and with Him. What happened next could be considered wishful thinking and self-deception, but I kind of think it was similar to what the apostle John experienced on Patmos. I believe God opened a portal between His Spirit and mine and allowed me to see Jennifer as she is now.
It only lasted a few seconds. In my mind I could see God sitting on a bench. No streets of gold or huge throne, just a bench in front of a gray or whitish wall. He looked like paintings I've seen of Jesus, but I suspect He donned that image so that I could see Him. God's - or Jesus' face was looking down. In his lap lay the head of a young woman. She appeared comfortable laying there in the Creator's lap. His finger twirled a lock of curly light brown hair. She was wearing a shimmering white dress that clung to her figure - no doubt an expensive fabric. Her skin was more golden than tan, and her face bore a striking resemblance to Jennifer's face in my picture - only a bit more mature.
I don't know if Jennifer could see me or not, but she suddenly sat up. Then she stood up facing me. As though seeing herself for the first time through my eyes, she turned to God and exclaimed, "I'm pretty!"
"You're beautiful." God corrected. She was.
She twirled around a few times, her dress flowing with her; her shoulder length curls bouncing off one another. The dress was knee length and sleeveless. Jennifer wore no shoes. Her calves were muscled and her arms were taut and strong. Neither thin, but especially not heavy, she appeared every bit an athlete. There were no tattoos, no circles under her eyes, no swollen ankles, no need for sunglasse to hide her pretty brown eyes.
"I feel so strong!" she insisted, spinning around again. Indeed, she looked as though she could leap great distances and run as fast as a cheetah. "But Father, why do I look so young?"
God reached out and touched her face near the corner of her eyes. "Because here there are no hurtful words that will cause you to cry; no pain to wrinkle and crease your flesh. Here you are safe and there is nothing to fear. Your old body began to die as soon as you were born; but this body is eternal - as I intended from the beginning."
Jennifer bent down and hugged the Father. She kissed Him on the forehead. Then she leaned with her hands on His shoulder and turned her face towards mine and smiled. "I love you Father. I love my Daddy too, but I'm glad to be here with my real Father."
The vision started to close now; but I heard God say to Jennifer before the portal closed completely, "I'm glad your're finally home too. Every daughter should be a Daddy's girl."
Jennifer never was a daddy's girl here. Oh, she was loved by myself and by a couple of other men whom she called "Dad" - because we treated her like a daughter; but she didn't really have a daddy here who devoted the time to her so that she could lay in his lap and know that she had his undivided attention. She had dads who would offer wise advice and who would worry about her and come to her aid when she needed help; but she didn't have a daddy that listened to her dreams or told her how beautiful she is. Jennifer knew that we loved her, but we couldn't take away her pain or ease her fears or protect her from evil - not like her Heavenly Father can. I'd like to think that I would die for her, but I could never raise her to life again, or give her a perfect body, a sound mind, a joyful spirit. She deserved those things. And God is right: every daughter should be a daddy's girl. Especially the Jennifers in this world.
Jennifer's Butterflies
There's a story behind these pretty crocheted butterflies. A dear friend from our church, Lea Eaton, wanted to do something for our family after Jennifer passed away two weeks ago. Lea is a cancer survivor herself, and has been a constant source of prayer and encouragement for Jennifer after Jennifer moved in with me over four years ago.
Lea works part-time at the y (until recently the YMCA but now just the 'y' - small letter y) and was thinking about Jennifer while she crocheted these little butterflies, which she'd intended to pass out at Jennifer's memorial service this past weekend. The deal is, once you accept one of these butterflies, you're supposed to carry it in your pocket; and every time you pull it out, it is supposed to remind you of Jennifer. It works - every time I empty my pockets, or every time I reach for my keys - the butterfly is there and I think of my daughter. Sometimes it feels as if Jennifer is nearby. It's a comforting experience.
Lea has a heart for hurting people, so when she met a young woman a few days before the memorial service who was distraught with worry about her mother's health, Lea thought "I'll bet Jennifer would want me to give one of these butterflies to this daughter." So so did. Then she gave one to a little girl who just needed someone to talk to. And another to a man who was contemplating suicide. Before the week was over, Lea had given out as many butterflies to hurting people as she did at the memorial service.
There is no shortage of wounded people in this world. What Lea began out of love for Jennifer has opened doors for God to bless dozens, and potentially thousands, of His children. It is a small thing to hold, but a huge blessing when you realize that God does see what you're going through. He sees, and He cares, and He wants to heal our worries and sorrows. Jennifer's butterflies are an immediate reminder how close God is. They also remind me where Jennifer is - with her Heavenly Father.
A Daughter's Faith, Her Heart, and Her Passion
Four years and three months ago, doctors gave Jennifer three months to live. God gave her the three months, and four more years; and for this I am very grateful Though the past two weeks have been filled with sorrow and more questions than answers, I've not once had to ask God the "Why" question. The why is apparent. It's been a looming reality for more than four years. Why is seldom the correct question. The question that I must deal with and that every person who knew Jennifer must deal with is "What now?" 
This blog will become part of the biography that Jennifer wanted me to write so that her two sons, Joshuwa Bradley and Mikil Lucus (sorry about the spelling but that's the way they were spelled on the birth certificates), would know how much she loved them. At seven and two, their memories will be few and incomplete. Even those of us who had Jennifer as part of our lives will begin to forget, or choose to forget, the tragic, yet extraordinary life of Jennifer McGarr.
As I assembled the slideshow for yesterday's memorial service, and as my wife - whom Jennifer referred to as her 'real' mom, printed photos for the collage we would display next to her urn, I struggled to comprehend how a child with such innocent eyes could witness so much evil in her short lifetime. Even more extraordinary is how Jennifer allowed those events to shape her personality but never to harden her heart. She remained until the end one of the most generous and loving persons I've ever known - even if all she left behind were a couple of cell phones and a laptop and two boys whom she had to trust to the care of her mother while she tried to get well.
I am so grateful for those four extra years that God allowed Jennifer. We may never know His purpose for doing so, but I believe we can expect to see His hand at work because Jennifer was available and willing. Had Jennifer not survived as long as she did, Mikil would not have been born. We don't know what God has purposed for Mikil, but He needed Jennifer, as sick and scared as she was, to be Mikil's mother.
Had Jennifer not survived longer than the doctors had predicted, she would not have met Laura Lee - whom Jennifer refers to as her wife. Jennifer - who was abused by so many men - found the love she longed for in the heart of another woman. That Jennifer struggled with what her faith teaches about same sex marriage in no way negates the love Christ has for her. I view Laura Lee as an act of mercy God allowed into Jennifer's life. I also view Jennifer as an act of mercy and love that God allowed in Laura Lee's life.
We may never know how those four extra years God gave to Jennifer have affected others. It was during those four years that my relationship with my daughter from my first marriage began its reconciliation. Jennifer and her brother resolved some of their differences they had with one another. My brother and I began to grow closer again. In just the past two weeks I'm beginning to see how God used Jennifer to reconcile families. It was because of Jennifer that I met my wife Pam; and it was Jennifer who became her closest friend on this side of the country.
Jennifer was so much like me: stubborn, profane, tactless, opinionated.... but at the same time, she forced me to confront my prejudices and my worldview and see things from a different viewpoint. Perhaps she learned something about herself from me. I do know that Jennifer loved me very much. I believe she was becoming more trustful of me after a few years of seeing that I was not out to hurt or to use her. While God was working changes in lives because of Jennifer, He was working in Jennifer's life as well.
The theme of Jennifer's memorial service is what helped me cope with the loss of my daughter. It's something she told me over and over again when she asked for help and I couldn't provide it: "Don't worry about me Daddy. I'll be OK. God will take care of me. He always has." Two weeks ago, four years and three months after she was sentenced to three months to live; God decided that Jennifer had done enough during those extra years He gave her. His plans for her are perfect and good. She is now at home in the only home she could call her own. She's free from pain, free from fear, free from people who would harm her and her loved ones, free from hurtful words, free from being taken advantage of, free from a broken heart over the broken relationships in her life, free from a confused mind. Free. And she's with a Father who can give her everything she needs and more than she could ever have wanted.
Jennifer possessed childlike faith in Jesus Christ. She struggled to follow scripture, but she trusted its Author. Her wounded heart was still able to hold all her love for her children, and for her family, and for people who, like her, were wounded and rejected. Everyone who knew Jennifer knew that her passion was Joshuwa and Mikil. It was for them that she held on as long as she could. Though the past two years she could only talk to them for a couple of minutes over the phone, they consumed her every waking minute.
Jennifer's body was a canvas dedicated to what was important in her life: pictures of the boys, a cross, her grandfather's initials; Woody, an angel, a penguin, a rose.... "Daddy" and "Mommy", with the initials of her wife underneath, and a quote from Tupaq "Chill and let my Father do His work". The pain from the tattoo needles soothed the pain from cancer and in some strange way helped focus her mind on the things that are eternal.
So here we are. The memorial service is done. Extra copies of the slideshow have been made for family and friends. The busyness is over, and all that's left is to watch for what God does with Jennifer's legacy and to write her story. If you were Jennifer's family or friend and you have stories or recollections you'd like to incorporate into her biography, please send them to me. You can respond here to this thread, or you can email them to me at "lmcgarr@nc.rr.com". It's going to be painful in places, unbelievable in others, embarrassing and funny and hopefully uplifting. I have some recordings that Jennifer made, some notes she kept from her counseling sessions, some memories from what she told us, two or three wills as she kept changing her mind about how she wanted her belongings shared, some photos of her at a young age and some from the past four and a half years - but few from the remaining two-thirds of Jennifer's life. If you have photos or memories, please send them to me.
It's going to be a journey of discovery - about Jennifer and about who we are. Things kept in the dark will be brought into the light so that healing can take place. Healing or justice - or both.
This blog will become part of the biography that Jennifer wanted me to write so that her two sons, Joshuwa Bradley and Mikil Lucus (sorry about the spelling but that's the way they were spelled on the birth certificates), would know how much she loved them. At seven and two, their memories will be few and incomplete. Even those of us who had Jennifer as part of our lives will begin to forget, or choose to forget, the tragic, yet extraordinary life of Jennifer McGarr.
As I assembled the slideshow for yesterday's memorial service, and as my wife - whom Jennifer referred to as her 'real' mom, printed photos for the collage we would display next to her urn, I struggled to comprehend how a child with such innocent eyes could witness so much evil in her short lifetime. Even more extraordinary is how Jennifer allowed those events to shape her personality but never to harden her heart. She remained until the end one of the most generous and loving persons I've ever known - even if all she left behind were a couple of cell phones and a laptop and two boys whom she had to trust to the care of her mother while she tried to get well.
I am so grateful for those four extra years that God allowed Jennifer. We may never know His purpose for doing so, but I believe we can expect to see His hand at work because Jennifer was available and willing. Had Jennifer not survived as long as she did, Mikil would not have been born. We don't know what God has purposed for Mikil, but He needed Jennifer, as sick and scared as she was, to be Mikil's mother.
Had Jennifer not survived longer than the doctors had predicted, she would not have met Laura Lee - whom Jennifer refers to as her wife. Jennifer - who was abused by so many men - found the love she longed for in the heart of another woman. That Jennifer struggled with what her faith teaches about same sex marriage in no way negates the love Christ has for her. I view Laura Lee as an act of mercy God allowed into Jennifer's life. I also view Jennifer as an act of mercy and love that God allowed in Laura Lee's life.
We may never know how those four extra years God gave to Jennifer have affected others. It was during those four years that my relationship with my daughter from my first marriage began its reconciliation. Jennifer and her brother resolved some of their differences they had with one another. My brother and I began to grow closer again. In just the past two weeks I'm beginning to see how God used Jennifer to reconcile families. It was because of Jennifer that I met my wife Pam; and it was Jennifer who became her closest friend on this side of the country.
Jennifer was so much like me: stubborn, profane, tactless, opinionated.... but at the same time, she forced me to confront my prejudices and my worldview and see things from a different viewpoint. Perhaps she learned something about herself from me. I do know that Jennifer loved me very much. I believe she was becoming more trustful of me after a few years of seeing that I was not out to hurt or to use her. While God was working changes in lives because of Jennifer, He was working in Jennifer's life as well.
The theme of Jennifer's memorial service is what helped me cope with the loss of my daughter. It's something she told me over and over again when she asked for help and I couldn't provide it: "Don't worry about me Daddy. I'll be OK. God will take care of me. He always has." Two weeks ago, four years and three months after she was sentenced to three months to live; God decided that Jennifer had done enough during those extra years He gave her. His plans for her are perfect and good. She is now at home in the only home she could call her own. She's free from pain, free from fear, free from people who would harm her and her loved ones, free from hurtful words, free from being taken advantage of, free from a broken heart over the broken relationships in her life, free from a confused mind. Free. And she's with a Father who can give her everything she needs and more than she could ever have wanted.
Jennifer possessed childlike faith in Jesus Christ. She struggled to follow scripture, but she trusted its Author. Her wounded heart was still able to hold all her love for her children, and for her family, and for people who, like her, were wounded and rejected. Everyone who knew Jennifer knew that her passion was Joshuwa and Mikil. It was for them that she held on as long as she could. Though the past two years she could only talk to them for a couple of minutes over the phone, they consumed her every waking minute.
Jennifer's body was a canvas dedicated to what was important in her life: pictures of the boys, a cross, her grandfather's initials; Woody, an angel, a penguin, a rose.... "Daddy" and "Mommy", with the initials of her wife underneath, and a quote from Tupaq "Chill and let my Father do His work". The pain from the tattoo needles soothed the pain from cancer and in some strange way helped focus her mind on the things that are eternal.
So here we are. The memorial service is done. Extra copies of the slideshow have been made for family and friends. The busyness is over, and all that's left is to watch for what God does with Jennifer's legacy and to write her story. If you were Jennifer's family or friend and you have stories or recollections you'd like to incorporate into her biography, please send them to me. You can respond here to this thread, or you can email them to me at "lmcgarr@nc.rr.com". It's going to be painful in places, unbelievable in others, embarrassing and funny and hopefully uplifting. I have some recordings that Jennifer made, some notes she kept from her counseling sessions, some memories from what she told us, two or three wills as she kept changing her mind about how she wanted her belongings shared, some photos of her at a young age and some from the past four and a half years - but few from the remaining two-thirds of Jennifer's life. If you have photos or memories, please send them to me. It's going to be a journey of discovery - about Jennifer and about who we are. Things kept in the dark will be brought into the light so that healing can take place. Healing or justice - or both.
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