March 3 & 4, 2026
March 3
ust when I think things can’t get any worse—or any sadder—they do.
Yesterday morning, Mom called first thing. She was upbeat and in the best mood I’ve heard her in since before all of this started. She told me about a dream Madelyn had. In it, Dad was back in church, and someone—I can’t remember who—said something like, “I think it’s time for James to be renewed.”
To Mom, it felt like an answered prayer—the very message Gerald had said would come from God when Dad’s heart had truly changed.
For a moment, it felt like this nightmare might be over soon.
But a few hours later, when I called her back to ask what her sisters thought about the dream, her tone had completely changed. She was crying. Beckie and Lash didn’t believe the dream was from God.
Make this make sense. How can Gerald and the others—who claim that God will “let them know” when Dad’s heart has changed—dismiss this so easily? Madelyn is 13. She’s part of that church. Why is her voice any less valid than theirs?
But I’m not surprised. I’ve seen this happen again and again growing up. They only accept what aligns with what they already want to believe. And right now, they don’t want Dad back. They want to isolate him.
Yesterday afternoon, Dad drove up to Atlanta for a doctor’s appointment—thankfully, he made it safely. I met him for dinner.
I didn’t mention my call with Mom earlier. I’m not sure if he knew anything, and I certainly didn’t want to tell him. It would just be another blow.
When I saw him walking out of the hotel, I instantly noticed a difference from just a few short weeks ago. He’s lost weight, his face was pale, and his clothes hung on his body. It was all I could do not to break down in front of him.
Seeing him this way—watching him struggle to walk with his cane and climb into my car—made me angry. So angry I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
I sent Lara a series of texts during dinner, telling her how wrong all of this is—what they’re doing to him. I didn’t hold back.
After dropping Dad off, I wanted to say more. This isn’t Lara’s fault, so I decided to call Beckie. It seemed appropriate, since she’s the pastor’s wife now. I don’t remember everything I said, but I know I’ve never talked to any of my aunts that way.
I started with, “What are y’all doing to my daddy?”
I told her I’ve been watching Dad on Life360—seeing him drive over to Gerald’s, trying to “talk to him.” I asked her if she really thought Jesus—or any of His disciples—would turn someone away who was asking for spiritual help.
Her response: “Kimberly, Gerald wasn’t home.”
But I know that’s not true.
Mom told me what actually happened. Dad went to see Gerald, and Gerald came out and said, “James, I’m not going to talk to you.”
So now I wonder—did Gerald not tell anyone what he actually said to Dad? Did Beckie not know? Or did she not want to admit it?
Either way one of them - Gerald or Beckie - does not feel comfortable admitting to me Dad was turned away.
March 4
This morning, I went back to Emory and took Dad to his appointment. Thankfully, he got a good report. I tracked him the entire drive home—he told me he hadn’t slept the night before, and I was honestly scared he’d fall asleep at the wheel. But he made it.
I talked to Mom again today. She’s upset with me—for calling Beckie, for texting Lara. I understand that. I hate that I disappointed her.
But that’s the only part I regret. Saying what I needed to say—finally getting it out—felt so good.