every story must come a hero or two. Or three. My first was Scott,
a fellow struggling writer. His lawyerly mind cut through the irrelevent
to name the religious oppression that bound me; he dismantled suppositions
and rebuilt logically. He gave me words to articulate
my way out. September 10, 1982, I divorced. For my act of disobedience, I was kicked out of Calvary Temple Church in Seattle.
Bruce Larson, Ray Moore, and Rusty Palmer at
Seattle's Univ. Pres. Church were my next three heroes. They re-introduced
me to God--who did NOT demand submission to the demands of anyone.
I rented a house in Bellevue, WA. And while the road ahead was lumpy, it was
my road. That made all the difference.
Free to be me, I wrote and published my first book.