A couple of memories came up out of the blue today. I hadn’t
thought of them for years. Maybe that’s why I’ve been feeling
so out-of-control.

It’s 1982, I was seventeen years old and my family had to go
out of town for something. I’d asked if I could stay home alone.
It was unusual, but they agreed. 

At school that Friday, I’d mentioned to my friend Tammy,
that I’d be home alone. There were others standing nearby
but I didn’t give it a second thought. That would prove to
be a big mistake.

My family left and I went to bed and fell fast asleep. I woke
up to voices yelling, “Becky! Wake up! Wake up!”

I was an extremely sound sleeper, and I don’t know how long
they’d been yelling. The head of my bed faced a window to
the front porch. I’d left the window open so I could feel the
breeze. 

“Wake up! BECKY! Hello! Wake up!

I remember saying as I rolled over, “Who do you think I am,
Sleeping Beauty?”

Hahaha, I don’t know why I said that. But the continued yelling
woke me up fully. I looked over at the window and saw about
five guys. One guy’s face was pressed right up to the screen
and another was trying to figure out how to get through the
screen.

My heart pounded out of my chest. What? Who is that? 
 

“What do you want?”

I could tell there were more guys walking around on the porch
and around the house.

“We want to come in and party,” one guy said. “Open the door!”

I was frozen with fear. My mind couldn’t comprehend what was
happening. I finally got out of bed and walked to the living room.
When I switched on the light, a bolt of fear shot through me. The
door was ajar, a couple of hands frantically tried to unlatch the
chain lock. It was the middle of the night and I was terrified. They
kept yelling for me to open up. 

I walked over to the door, “What do you want?”

“We want to come in and party, that’s all.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll get it.” 

But when they removed their arms and I had shut the door,
I couldn’t unlatch the chain. Something told me this was very
wrong and not to trust them. 

Looking back, God watched over me. He gave me the courage
not to give in to this abusive behavior. Something that many
people struggle with when their will is trampled on as children.
They’re unable to stand up for themselves. I mean, how those 
guys didn’t get in through the screen on my bedroom window
is supernatural. 

I held my hands against the door, trying to ground myself. I 
turned and shut off the light and went back to bed, hoping
they’d get the message and just leave. They were pissed
and someone slammed their fist against the door. I could
hear cussing and swearing and then it was quiet.

Oh good they left, I sighed, and laid back down to try and sleep. 

All of a sudden I heard a loud crash. I jumped out of bed and ran
to my sisters' room and flipped on the light. Someone had thrown
a rock through the large antique window. Shattered glass covered 
the twin beds and floor. 

I turned the light off and ran to the kitchen and grabbed the phone.
I happened to glance out the kitchen window and saw about seven
guys running to jump in their car. They laughed and carried on as if
it was a game, and then tore out of our driveway.

My entire body shook. I remember just punching at numbers,
too afraid to turn on the light. Lord, help me get ahold of Aunt
Deanna. I was desperate. 

Honestly, I truly believe God dialed her number. The phone rang
and rang. Oh God, please. Please let her answer.

“Hello…”

“Aunt Deanna, it’s Becky. Someone’s trying to break into my
house. They broke the window in Beth and Christi’s room.”

I could hear her waking up my Uncle Richard, while she assured
me, “I’ll call the Sheriff, and we’ll be right over.” 

By the time I hung up, the guys were back. I ran into my parents
room and then into the laundry room. I squeezed down between
the washer and dryer. The cold metal of the machines pressed
against my body. I was terrified! 

My heart banged against my ribs, I could hardly hear anything
else. I looked up and saw a face peering through the window
right at me. He couldn’t see me, but I could see him. Then I
heard the sound of crunching glass. 

Oh God! Someone’s in the house. 

Suddenly, I heard my Aunt banging on the back door, “Becky!
Becky!” Her voice was panic-stricken.

It took me a minute to move. My legs were rubber and I could
hardly breathe, my heart pounded so hard. Plus, I wanted to be
sure it was safe to come out. 

“Becky! Becky! It’s Aunt Deanna.” 

I walked to the back door and opened it. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I think so. They broke the window in Beth and Christi’s room.”

“Get some clothes, you’re coming home with us.” 

My Uncle walked around the house and the Sheriff was on the
way. I never talked to Uncle Richard about that incident, but I
think he saw a lot of the boys scatter when they pulled up to
the house.

While I gathered my things, the Sheriff arrived. He’d pulled
over their car and had about five of them. The rest he picked
up trying to walk home on the highway. The Sheriff asked me
to come outside and identify them.

I stood on my front lawn, embarrassed. Our neighbors outside
in their night gowns and robes, gawking. Lights flashed. One of
the guys kept yelling my name, but I ignored him. I told the cop
I didn’t know who all was involved. 

Then the guy who’d been yelling for my attention came over,
his hands cuffed behind him. He was pushy.

“Can I just talk to her for a minute?” He begged the cop, who
was holding him back from coming over to me. Now he was
desperate.

The Sheriff agreed, to my dismay, and walked a few feet away,
but watched us intently. I remember thinking, does the Sheriff think
I'm in on this?

“Tell them we didn’t mean you no harm. We just wanted to party.
I can’t go to jail. I signed up to be in the service. If I go to jail, I
can’t go into the service.”

Like I gave a rats ass about this guy!

I recognized him. He was in my class, a Senior, but some of the
other guys were a year younger. I remember being shocked that
one of the boys was a popular preacher's son who was a year
behind me.

Why is he here?

I didn’t hang out with any of these guys and was confused at the
whole situation.

I timidly spoke, “Why did you do that? You guys scared me.”

He kept begging me to lie and tell the Sheriff that I’d invited
them over. He kept getting in my face in an aggressive manner.
I don’t know if he was drunk or on something? I looked over at
the cop, who’d seen enough. 

He marched over and grabbed him by the arm “That’s enough!
Let’s go!”

I honestly don’t remember locking up the house. Maybe my Aunt
or Uncle did? Aunt Deanna got the couch ready for me. I saw such
fear in their eyes. 

Aunt Deanna said, “You know what those boys wanted, don’t you?”

NO! I hadn’t thought about it. But then I realized what she meant.
What an awful feeling! Someone meant me harm and yet I felt
shame? UGH!

I worried about my parents and how they’d react when they got
home. I was scared, I would be blamed, even though it wasn’t my
fault. I grew up in an era where children were to be seen and not
heard. I don’t recall my folks asking me my side of situations.
They were judge and jury.

Thankfully, the next day when my folks returned, not much was
said about it. I don’t recall having conversations about it either.

I do, however, remember Daddy and I stood on the front lawn.
He said, “You don’t have to worry about any of this. I’m going
to go to court for you and I’ll take care of it. You don’t have
to worry. And if they bother you about it at school, if they say
anything,  you let me know and I’ll take care of it.”

So, I do have a memory of Daddy looking out for me. I felt cared
for. It was a nice feeling, that I wished would have happened more
often in my life. And I know this, if Daddy had known about a lot of
what I was going through, he would have defended me.