Introduction
I was born in
Salem, Oregon in the year 1992. Linda May Culton, Paul Chadwick Culton are my older,
all-be-it, determined parents. My mother was 42 when she had me, so to be
certain, I am the youngest child. I have two siblings, a 42-year-old brother
and a 35-year-old sister. Over the past twenty years, I have told countless
people my sibling’s ages and the response is always the same; disbelief. Yet,
the reason for the extensive gap in ages is simply part of my story; rather, my
mother’s story is what brings my beginning. My mother fell in love with an Army
man at the young age of 16. After being engaged for two years while her brave
soldier fought for freedom in Vietnam, they were wed on his five day R and R in
Hawaii. Soon after, he returned from war and she was pregnant with my brother,
Patrick. He was born when my mother was almost 20. Being the wonderful motherly
type that she is, my mother knew that she wanted to have more children – nine to
be exact. Yet, the Lord had different plans. My mother’s cousin found out she
was pregnant, yet she could not care for the child. Having called my mother –
which in itself was an answer to my mother’s prayers – she flew out to
California to give birth to the blessed child. Rebekah was adopted by my mother
Linda and her husband Tony within 24 hours of her birth. Following that
blessing, my mother had 4 miscarriages with Tony. And then, her story changed.
Tony passed away due to being sprayed with Agent Orange while in Vietnam. They
had a year together after his diagnosis of idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis. He
loved his children and wife and enjoyed his time with them before he went home
to be with his Father at the age of 41. Rebekah was 11, Patrick 19, and my mother
38. One year later, my mother fell in love with my father. However, it should
be noted that her grieving is not to be ignored. She remained a good mother as
well as a wonderful provider for her two fatherless children. Yet, my father
was in the picture none the less. After they were wed, they moved from
California to Oregon; where I was born. My mother struggled with 2 more
miscarriages. This is where my story begins to form. After her 6 miscarriages,
my mother found out that she was yet again pregnant. Her hope for the life of
this child was dismal at best. However, after 9 months, she was still pregnant
and in full term. I was born October 10th, 1992 to two proud and astonished
parents. My father would say, “You had an umbrella head that just opened up
after you came out.” This too, is part of my story. To say that being the
seventh conception had never seemed a truly blessed part of my story until this
past year. After telling a friend of mine a short version of my testimony, he
quickly pointed out to me that the number 7 is the number of completion and perfection;
God’s number. To have someone say to you that you are completion is life
changing. I often think about how my mother wanted to have 9 children, yet had
only three. But, if the miscarriages are counted as they should be, she did
have 9 children. However, the other six have been blessed to dwell with the
Lord in heaven for the past 30+ years and when we all finally go to be with our
Father, the reunion will be one of memorable proportions. I have always desired
to write a memoir of my life. I have never had the fluency or true ability to
until now. And as unimportant as my life may be in the grand scheme of things
in this world, I am a child of God and I will never be marked as unimportant in
His eyes; which is why these words are now being written. To the skeptics,
there is no true purpose behind these hundreds of words. I suppose they could
be called, “A New Reality” or perhaps just a young woman writing out her
feelings. But, regardless, this is my life and if I am to be a part of this
world, and we are supposed to all be connected, then who am I to withhold my
story from anyone? So, this is where we will begin; where the stories that I have
always been told begin; our first house on Church Street in Salem, Oregon.
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