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Welcome to Google (whether Plus, Perfect Chaos, or the Celibacy Diaries). My name is Stacie D. Wyatt.  I am a published poet and writer (Chocolate Kisses; Love.Lust.Life., Miscarried, Conversing with Sexuality; Conversing with Salvation; Conversing with Normality; Conversations 1, Never Argue with an Autistic child and other special tales, and Conversations 2. ). 

 I am also a product and book reviewer for a few sites (BookSneeze, Blogging for Books, Bethany House, Edelweiss, Tyndale House, and Netgalley). I will post reviews here regularly. I post reviews on Perfect Chaos. 

I also have two kids: 13 years old and 3 year old. My oldest is Autistic and my youngest is developmentally delayed, autistic, and a few other things. I also enjoy writing about the ups and downs of parenting two differently-abled children.

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Wednesday, June 18, 2014

It's too late to do anything about it

It’s too late to do any damn thing about it

When my grandma was living, she and her husband (rest in peace both of them) owned plenty of land and plenty of acreage. My grandma owed property taxes and never paid it. I remember seeing the letters come in the mail box (since I checked the mail most of the time), piles of letters, pink late payment letters, telling her or her husband to pay the freaking property taxes.

In November 2000, my grandma died still owing property taxes. The family—well some of the family-don’t know which helped—since I gave birth to Brad the day after she died---and am not sure who—pulled together and paid the back property taxes.

But that was it. No one continued to pay the taxes on the land and within the last few months, Montgomery County auctioned off the land to the highest bidder. The property, which has been in the family for decades, is no longer.

A few days ago, my sister took to Facebook to discuss the family losing their land. Now, all of a sudden, the next generation—my cousins, sisters, now want to discuss getting the land back. The back taxes were over 100,000, almost as much as all my student loans combined. All the young ones want to rally together and save a piece of land, no one has really stayed on since my grandma house burned down years and years ago. Some of them were shocked because they did know the land was auctioned off months ago. Guess the older generation of uncles and great uncles did not mention this.

I had to IM my sister to let her know the property was auctioned off months ago and it’s too late to do any damn thing about it. The property is sold. The county has now sent letters to my mother, brothers, and step-brothers/sisters to disburse the extra for a small fee. (My grandma had 4 children (my mother plus 3 brothers. One died about 2007/2008. Her second husband had 4 or more children too).

Because the family did not continue to work together with everyone to save the property, the property is now sold to someone else.

Because my grandma and grandpa had poor financial management, while they was living, the family lost their land.

Sometimes in life, we make mistakes. We make errors. Sometimes we cannot go back and fix our mistakes. It is simply too late and there is nothing we can do.

I can’t go back and remove my herpes diagnosis. Even though I was faithful, at that point, I still have it.

I can’t go back and not get married at 19 years old—happily divorced but I should have not gotten married that young.

I can’t go back and erase both miscarriages, even though the second one helped spark my celibacy journey.

I can’t go back and remove a few—a lot of former sex partners. Many—A lot, I should have left alone—online—and never met offline.

But you still can move forward and learn from your experiences. Still can learn from your mistakes. Still receive redemption.

It may be too late to change your past, but you can always change your future.

@Stacie D. Wyatt/Celibacy Diaries

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