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It would be difficult to overstate the importance of A Safe Place for Women by Kelly White. A well-educated and accomplished woman, White does not fit society’s stereotype of a battered wife. However, her riveting first-hand account of spousal abuse takes the reader on a very real and terrifying journey through the psychological and physical battering she endured during and after her five-year marriage. In this remarkable book, she explores the thinking of both perpetrator and victim, helping the reader understand how such a relationship sustains itself over time and why women return again and again to the men who hurt them.

White’s well-researched work delves into numerous aspects of domestic violence, including (but not limited to) historical and cultural factors contributing to the devaluation of women, generational patterns of abuse, groups most at risk of violence in the home, the relationship between substance abuse and battering, the effect of poverty on the equation, and the red flags that may signal a potentially abusive situation. Stories of other battered women are woven throughout, helping to drive home the need to address this tragic and often hidden societal problem.

White has used her personal experience as a springboard to assist thousands of women throughout her career as the executive director of such programs as Safe Place in Austin, TX, and now the Chicago Foundation for Women. In A Safe Place for Women, she goes far beyond telling her own story. She provides down-to-earth, practical guidance for creating and building effective domestic violence programs across the nation.

This is a must-read for anyone who has experienced or been affected by domestic violence. This is a must-read for all of us.

I recently signed up with BookSneeze, which allows me to receive free books in return for unbiased reviews. This is my first.

Left at the Altar by Kimberley Kennedy. Kimberley, a successful TV journalist, seems to have it all: a great career, a supportive family, intelligence, talent, good looks, and a wonderful soon-to-be-husband. On the eve of the marriage, however, her fiancé Lew realizes he cannot go through with the wedding. Of course Kimberley is stunned beyond words, grief-stricken, and humiliated. The rejection sends her into a tailspin of depression, isolation, and anger at God. Left at the Altar documents Kimberley’s journey from a despairing, man-centered perspective to one that focuses on growing a joyful relationship with God.

I especially appreciated the sections of the book that focused on the Biblical story of Rachel and Leah (Genesis 29). The perspectives from men who had ended relationships was interesting too, but perhaps too brief. She also shares some “Tools for Healing,” which could be helpful to readers in similar scenarios. I am troubled, however, with the idea that “…if you want a mate, it is because God gave you that desire…I believe that beautiful day will come because God has not taken away my desire for it…I have peace and pray every day for that man…that God is preparing for me.” Although it is clear at other points that Kimberley believes some may find ultimate happiness in a single state, it is also clear that she expects God to eventually provide her with a perfect match. I hope that will be the case for her, but I believe such presumptions do not take into account that we are all beings with free will. God has not promised marriage to everyone who hungers for it. He has called us to be faithful whether or not we see the fulfillment of our deepest desires.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

On this day, our fifth month-i-versary, my husband Phil sent me this Henry Ward Beecher quotation – so beautiful:

Young love is a flame; very pretty, often very hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. The love of the older and disciplined heart is as coals, deep-burning, unquenchable.

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On the way to Jane’s funeral yesterday I got a call telling me that Jane’s husband Neil had passed away in his sleep sometime Saturday night or early Sunday morning. He had health issues, but I really believe he died of a broken heart. This, from Emily Dickinson:

Ample make this bed.
Make this bed with awe;
In it wait till judgment break
Excellent and fair.

Be its mattress straight,
Be its pillow round;
Let no sunrise’ yellow noise
Interrupt this ground.

Here is Neil at Jane’s visitation Saturday evening.  He is holding Hollis, Jane’s first grandchild.

Jane Ellen Putnam was born February 11, 1951 in Haleyville, Alabama.  She was a beautiful baby with dark hair and blue eyes.  The family settled into a comfortable routine after her birth, but only a few months later life suddenly took a drastic turn.  The Salk vaccine for the prevention of polio would not be available until 1955, and fears of this highly contagious virus were widespread.  Jane contracted polio at the age of nine months, and much of her body was permanently paralyzed.  She would spend the remainder of her life in this weakened condition.

Parents George and Mildred Putnam knew Jane would face tough obstacles in her future, so they determined to make her as independent as possible.  They pushed her to do things for herself, knowing she would need such skills to survive.  Older brother Steve was determined to have his sister as a playmate too, so he helped her climb trees, swim, and generally raise the roof.  The two of them stayed in trouble pretty much throughout their childhood.

Jane spent many summers as a patient at the Warm Springs Foundation in Warm Springs, Georgia, an institute established by Franklin D. Roosevelt and dedicated to research, treatment, and rehabilitation of those affected by the polio virus.  It was FDR who initiated the March of Dimes Foundation, and Jane was a poster child for that organization.  Years later she worked to help pass laws in the state of Alabama that would assist disabled persons.

Jane did have physical limitations, but she met them with courage and resourcefulness.  She loved to drive the pony cart Uncle Grady built for her and later learned to drive a car with the help of a special pedal her dad invented. She was the first of the family to attend college, zipping around the campus in a golf cart.  She participated in school programs using her beautiful singing voice, and she found many avenues for the expression of her creative talents. She was an accomplished folk artist, designing one-of-a-kind dolls, cards, crafts, sculptures, illustrations, and gifts. She taught arts and crafts at a summer camp and at her local public library.

Jane’s two sons, John Grady and Joe, were the joy of her life.  She loved them deeply and cherished the time they spent together.  She adored her husband Neil as well, and he adored her.  They were married for sixteen years, and took good care of each other.  Jane especially enjoyed hearing about Neil’s truck-driving adventures.  His sense of humor was the perfect match for hers, and she often called other family members to relate one of his stories.

In fact, no one could be around Jane without being affected by her great good humor.  She had a dry wit and was always the first to find the funny side to a situation.  She endured stares and questions throughout much of her life, but this too became the source of many humorous tales.   She liked to relate the story about her son Joe when he was a little boy.  Seeing Jane in a wheelchair, Joe’s playmate asked him what was wrong with his mother.  Joe paused for a moment and then answered, “Well…she has a bad cold.”   Another child, seeing her remove her braces as she prepared to take a swim in the local pool, approached her wide-eyed and asked with wonder: “Are you bionic?”

More than any other quality, Jane had a special compassion for others. She was a natural teacher and took a number of children under her wing through the years, baking cookies with them, enjoying art experiences together, teaching them the alphabet, and reading books with them. She rarely mentioned the severe, chronic pain she endured, preferring instead to focus on the next project she could design or the next gift she could make for someone.

Last month Jane welcomed her first grandchild, George Hollis Brown, son of Joe and Sara.  She was thrilled beyond words at this precious new life and looked forward to seeing him grow up.

Jane was tired, though.  She had dealt courageously with enormous challenges since before she could remember, and finally her exhausted body just gave out.  On Thursday morning, December 9, she closed her eyes for the last time and was gone.

Jane was a beloved daughter, sister, wife, mother, and friend.  All of her life she struggled against incredible odds just to do the simple things most of us take for granted.

Many times she told her husband Neil that she longed to be able to stand and to run.  Just run.

Now she is in heaven, surrounded by loved ones who have gone on before.  Her body is well and whole now.  She can finally run free.

Song of Songs, chapter 2:10-13  “My beloved spoke, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.  For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;  The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land… Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.”

My precious Papa died today.

He hadn’t been feeling well for maybe a month and was losing weight.  When he went to the doctor, his white cell count was very high and they put him in the hospital.  That was a couple of weeks ago.  Doctors thought his appendix had ruptured but decided to fight the infection with antibiotics and a drain, rather than surgery.  He didn’t appear to be getting any better, so Thursday evening they decided to do surgery anyway.  They found that he had a hole in his colon.  Although they re-sectioned it, there was of course a great deal of infection already from all the leakage into his abdomen.  He just got weaker, his blood pressure dropped, his fever rose, and finally only the machines were keeping him alive.  In honor of his wishes, the machines were turned off and he was gone.

God gave our family an amazing, healing gift when He gave us Papa.  He always said that when he married Mom, he got himself four new kids.  We loved him so much and were so grateful to have him for a father, if only for a while.

Herbert Hopper, age 88
January 20, 1922 – November 14, 2010