Never Would I Ever: The Meme

Those Thorny Thorns

This appendix is a post-script to my blog, "The Fifth Folks: April Fool's"*

Those Thorny Thorns

Presented tiny, because that is what they are. A decade of thorns is insignificant when compared to the beneficial lessons learned and God's mercy, grace, and goodness. 

One day, all was peaceful in Homespun USA. When suddenly, life took a combination of fluke turns for the worse in the lives of some "good ol' folks" ...

• The crazy mash-up of only-daughter's college graduation and paternal parents' decision to move to Homespun. That alone is not unusual, but the overall confusion and timing of the parents' move unexpectedly speeds up Dad's Alzheimer symptoms. They need regular emotional support plus tight financial decision-making advice for 3 1/2 more final years with the ever-confused one
• On the very day of daughter's graduation, minor Breadwinner's workplace USA tension builds. A seething fellow employee's 6-week disciplinary measures include weekly high-drama meetings. Not unusual, except that Minor Breadwinner is asked to be present in those meetings to transcribe. With discussions so crazy, a sharp Ginsu knife could not cut through the tension
• →Don't mess with Mother Nature, and don't mess with our only daughter! The 22-year-old departs healthy to Bolivia for a 6-week summer missions trip, and experiences, just 1 day into the trip, appendicitis symptoms, with fretful overseas emergency appendectomy and recuperation
• Close-knit Homespun Church issues arise and escalate. Not unusual, but mystery friend abandonment makes facing those issues as one of its Board Members personally heart-wrenching...

 ... the events above began to swirl together just 2 months after a Bolivia souvenir took up residence in our home office... and 11 months later more surface...

• Soon after, sibling abandonment is felt, with a tame, yet below-the-surface Hatfield/McCoy sibling rivalry that fuels, germinates, and lingers (co-attenders of Homespun Church). Not unusual. But when car wreck #1 occurs on the way to meeting them at a restaurant, plus their child's wedding reception is almost peppered by a nearby catastrophic EF5 multiple-vortex tornado, with a particle- and dust- filled haunting double rainbow afterward, the rivalry makes this Thorny Thorns list
• False allegations to one's character at work surface. Very unusual and very unexpected, because the false allegations are totally out of character and opposite of character
• Maternal father's out-of-state drawn-out deathbed time and funeral. Not unusual in itself, but its timing is potentially indirectly deadly for yours-truly. The distracting sadness months-delays the diagnosis and treatment of the next deadly bullet item

Exactly 12 months later, crazy-cray heightens, with perplexing days and months to come...

• Breast cancer is finally diagnosed. That alone is not unusual, but it is diagnosed after an age-50, First.Ever.Mammogram. It is the fast-growing variety. The oncologist basically states: If it returns, it will be virulent, with most certain death. Peculiarly, before hearing that and until surgery, it feels like a dark villain is housed within. Also known as terror. Cancer is prayerfully faced with the support of close friends and the provision of skilled doctors, including → Oncologist Dr. Carolla (note the punctuation dart)
• A tornado's close path follows parallel behind "good ol' folks" home USA. That is not unusual, but its nondestructive closeness definitely is... just 3/8 mile away as the bird flies → it occurs the same weekend that cancer is diagnosised, AND at the same moment Spouse is in-flight, re-directed to an Arkansas airport, returning from where? his second spring break Bolivia missions trip
• Chemo and Tamoxifen side-effects, with unconsidered brain-fog, remain for at least 5 years. Not unusual, except that slamming into 1,000 mph menopause brings with it bouts of severe hopelessness

On another day, more random continues...

• Multiple Corolla car wrecks occur with the same new 2007 vehicle. That is not unusual, but when 5 occur within a short 18-months time frame, and 4 of them are the fault of invisible black ice and others' rear-ends and side-swipes (other cars and our slick driveway's mailbox seemed to have a magnetic attraction to us), early head-scratching begins. Enough so that others encourage a trade-in, claiming the car is "jinxed." We continue in denial because it is a newer, low gas mileage, dependable Corolla. And, maybe brain-fog played a part. We later learn that a thing might be hexed; however, ours and our daughter's Corolla mainly receive punctuation darts →
• → Our daughter's Corolla is wrecked states away. Not unusual, but this punctuation dart begins to burst our appendixes. Her months-owned Corolla looks just like the 'folks jinxed Corolla. Exact same color. It is totaled while her hubby is innocently and safely stopped at a signal light. What??? They washed their hands of that Corolla, but we still kept our Corolla, for its #5 accident
• One single event of multiple tick bites. That ticks us off, but is not unusual. Then, more random tick bite events occur, with headaches and residual maladies for months (maybe years? helping to fuel mid-50s hopelessness?)
• Minor Breadwinner's workplace USA down-sizes and re-organizes, with dead-end projects that particularly effect her IT department, causing stressful shake-ups for everyone. After 17 faithful years she chooses to leave, with no desire for another job soon. Not unusual, but when half of the Corolla car wrecks occur driving to and from work, this makes the list. It is income hit #1. Other family income hits will occur

The events above could be attributed to bad luck muddled with cancer. But when more occurs, in the form of crazy-cray nature and Homespun Neighborhood USA, something's up...

• → Effecting @ a 4-mile radius around 'folks USA home, 45-minute record precipitation occurs during one unending hailstorm and downpour, on Father's Day weekend. Not unusual, except for its on-and-on-a-thorn feel, and no other areas in town receive the Saturday hail-a-thon. The Weather Channel says its magnitude scores a century record in our area. The storm is damaging enough to require complete shingle replacement on our 10-year-old roof and all similar-and-less age roofs within the radius. Link to:  June 15, 2013 storm report
• Lightning strikes a backyard tree. That strike is clearly seen, a short 5-yardstick distance away, equidistant between 'folks USA home and Neighbor USA home. Not unusual. But when the strike occurs while the two neighbors chat on the phone together, hairs raise and cell phones drop... literally 
• Deer droppings. Actually, a summer-long drop-a-thon. Neighbor USA in tandem experiences a pee-a-thon that wipes out large patches of their grass and a most lovely backyard garden. Not unusual, but... (a couple of gulps of stiff caffeine might help to "get" the punctuation dart in this bullet item) it is the fellow cell-phone chatter whose backyard corner basically points → to the home office souvenir 
• Homespun USA neighborly neighbors move. Not unusual. But all houses except for 1 (8 out of 9 of them), whose front, back, or side yards either touch or closely face 'folks USA's home, have new or newer occupants. 

And then, financial straws finally figuratively break the camel's back 

• We manage to slough off salary hits #1 and #2, for 5 years. All the while, major work shake-ups and personal disappoints occur regarding Major Breadwinner's career aspirations...
• A dental crown's disputed insurance coverage on-and-on-a-thon is not unusual. However, when 5 previous years' crowns are covered with no question, 2015's payment denial is totally unexpected, and yet another stressful financial hit. So it, too, makes the list...
• Then, a most recent, salary hit #3, occurs...
• And, what??? Major Breadwinner's career is knocked off course. 

These are only the major on-and-on-a-thorns that occurred. Others were woven in, but mentioning them is too much information. Those final four bullets finally encouraged us to deeply search for answers, before homelessness and naked repentance with dust and ashes came upon us. Not to look outward for blame, but to look inward. Not to permanently move backward, but only for a season. To then make headway forward... into our 60s.

I believe that two unexpected discoveries are actually critical awakenings.* And they provide a deep peace. Savior Jesus did not deserve to wear a painful crown of thorns, but He wore it so we could face our thorns. Challenges are an integral part of life, and awakenings are, too. In faith, it is time to move on.

Conclusion

Now, with hopefully final, final, final blog edits added, on a slick and slippery Sunday morning, this whimsical conclusion is called-for:

God's love on this Valentine's Day is noticeably noted
With neither punctuation marks nor darts

But rather

With punctuation hearts

We anticipated hearing love-topic sermons, but rather, synchronized thorny verses

Not one, but two messages, lauding resilient responses to

Career whammy's. Storms. Thorny thorns. Emergency room nurses

YIsaiah 55 - Harvest Church Online Y
(On-and-on-a-thorns)

&

YMark 4 & 5 - James River Church Online Y

(Overwhelming storms)

*The thorny thorns began with a vengeance soon after a souvenir entered our home. What sort of power, if any, did that souvenir have? We'll never know for certain. Admittedly, the unusual theory is unproveable. Various, curious factors did precipitate, and one followed as well. Insightful family ancestry information is the second awakening, and it just might play into my theory. 

The Fifth Fulks

Christmas-time 2015, while perusing a light-read biography, my inner radar began to blare. Two short chapters tucked quietly into the book more than caught my attention. Years earlier, it was Christmas 2004 on an airplane when I first read that same book. I lost it and for years felt compelled to re-purchase the book to read again, which I finally did. I completely forgot the contents of those two particular chapters. They took me by surprise.

During this fateful read, creepy tingles (and a tangle) went up and down my spine related to certain spiritual powers mentioned. For a time, because of the overwhelming terror I felt, I had to lay the book down to finish reading later. It reminded me of similar brief terror episodes I experienced during a 2006 cancer battle, the 2 weeks prior to surgery.

While reading those chapters, a seemingly harmless souvenir in our home came vividly to mind. Gifted to us 10 years earlier when my husband was in an indigenous land, on his first-ever spring break missions trip in 2005. And then proudly displayed 24/7 in our home office. The presence of that souvenir morphed into a quiet "fifth fulks" in our family-of-four's maturing household. At the time, our children were aged 25 and 22. In May 2005, just 3 months after receiving the gift, our dearth distractions began.

Over the past 10 years I have learned a greater respect for many things. In particular, a respect for reclusive things like spiders and ticks. They have lasting venom. They are now tops on my creepy things list because I have experienced first-hand their venom's power. And recently, I have a respect for a new venom. That particular fear-factor thing gives my post a PG-13 rating, because we faced venomous troubles the full decade it inhabited our home. I have learned that attitude through difficulties really does matter. The old cliche "attitude determines your altitude" really is true.

The Bible's Job-Factor Did Not Apply

For perspective's sake, when difficulties occur in shotgun fashion, like the way they are presented in the Bible's Book of Job, it is easy to see a pattern or correlation. Job plainly appeared to be jinxed. He lost everything dear to him except for his life and his wife. And God gave no tangible reason to Job for the jinxes. He mourned his losses, but Job never blamed God.

We prefer to not compare ourselves to Good Job, because he was good. Instead, we compare distraction to distraction. They felt somewhat crazy-cray, seemingly un-related, but they now appear to be related in an underlying way. Yet, we had positive times and blessings as well, that were interspersed (a daughter's wedding, grand-births, house re-organizations, insightful memoir-writing, exotic vacations). In fact, very good things happened. In the midst of it all, correlation was less obvious.

Admittedly, I already had a superstitious edge or awareness. And the events of the past 10 years heightened that awareness. However, we never looked for literal venomous spirits to be lurking around corners. Certainly not in our safe home.

On one hand, all life is a series of bad hair days or problems that we must try to solve, so why complain? On the other hand, before ever re-reading the eye-opening book, I felt compelled to look beneath the surface of our decade of troubles. Past blaming institutions or people. I apologize for sounding like troubled Job defending himself, but some of the occurrences were unusual enough to stand out in my personal journals over the years. Because of added senseless crazy-cray factors. Until, only 3 months ago, we started to feel like we were being swallowed up. No ifs, ands, or buts about it, we were jinxed. We couldn't help but plead: Enough.Is.Enough.

Just because a theory appears to be crazy does not mean one should discount it. What I term as emphases or punctuation-darts during the previous years were similar to that biography's unusual happenings, quietly contained in those two chilling chapters: Our dog's random death and our daughter's overseas emergency appendectomy; on-and-on shaking car wrecks and developing a first-name relationship with the body shop and the insurance company; a small-radius, penetrating, century-record, on-and-on hail storm that on the radar egocentrically appeared to emanate from our home; career aspirations destroyed; and so many other stunning blind-sides. For perspective, the problems occurred somewhat back-to-back, at times they overlapped, there were brief seasons of settled, yet, the bizarre-factor was even noted by others.

The Awakening

Previous to age 50, we busily focused on family, our jobs, weekly prayer walks around our church (with my beloved dog), church relationships, and regular exercise work-outs, in that order and we preferred the idea of order. We bordered on boring. And then life went haywire. What was placed into our home just months prior to age 50? As you will see, my awakening does seem far-fetched. And maybe even outrageous. Like I've watched "The Exorcist" too many times (one nail-biting 1973 viewing was more than adequate).

That.Bolivia.Souvenir! Did.It.Represent.A.Pseudo-Altar????

Outrageous? Yes. December 2015, finally after 10 years, after reading those two chapters of the providential book, our eyes were opened to the souvenir's "fool's-factor." Its orientation resembled a manger scene, but it was a faux manger scene. Like fool's gold, it was an imitation. It was black. Upon closer inspection, each carved figure was dark and creepy-looking and faced toward one central creepy figure.

Like the Trojan Horse that penetrated the naive City of Troy, we were invaded. "It" stealthily entered our home years ago, and the idol-card was played. Just 2 years ago, I had most gingerly dusted it using careful rubs, like freeing a bad Genie-in-a-bottle to unknowingly escalate distractions. I thought it was a harmless manger scene, yet that souvenir might instead represent a pseudo altar. Was it? We will never know for sure, but I felt desperate to try something to make the crazy-cray stop...

Within 30 minutes of reading the book's two chapters, we removed the idol from our home, permanently disposed of into a store's outdoor trash bin, to be hauled far, far away to the city's waste disposal site. But maybe it should have been burned, because I was reminded that never-have-I-ever been more relieved to discard of, rather than donate or re-gift, a gift. Just 7 weeks later, a mortal accident at the city's waste disposal seemed way too coincidental.

What.Not.To.Fear?

Had we been housing a ticking time bomb, innocently sitting on a side table, in our home office? One of our top-two daytime rooms of refuge? Where plans are made, bills are paid, and destinies are dreamed?

What Not to Fear? Loss, famine, and tomorrow's uncertainties. God did not cause our many literal and figurative storms. But, yet, He did allow them. He was present through each and every event. Most certainly, I see His love regardless of, and through it all. Both punctuation darts, and especially God's Word, remind me of that.

The final storm, loss of career dreams, still affects our pride and our pocketbook daily. But we have learned much about ourselves. God gives us peace. Reflective pondering magnifies that no matter what the cause, our family definitely experienced and mercifully survived a potentially deadly decade. That is a huge and positive fact! We experienced 6 car wrecks with no injuries whatsoever. A competent, focused, American-schooled surgeon was provided for our daughter's overseas emergency appendectomy. And, my life was spared two tangible times: Ten years ago, we survived a close-call tornado (just 1/4-mile behind our home) as I sat huddling and praying in our home's bathroom and my husband literally flew overhead in his return airplane flight from his second Bolivia missions trip; and, one month later, beginning April 1, 2006, a U.S. skilled surgeon and an Oncologist successfully worked life-saving miracles for me.

A dream job was never landed; trivial things like my breasts and a healthy daughter's appendix were taken; our spry and pampered 11-year-old dog was mortally wounded by a neighbor's car; our overall income decreased by a decent percentage; we lost a car or two because of the 6 Corolla accidents in 18 months' time; faced life-and-death challenges with heartaches (but no decision-regrets); a 3-year-old's mysterious blackout rages poignantly surfaced; and lesser kerfuffle occurred which are mentioned in another post. The overall impact and permanence of thorns is downplayed when looked at from the perspective of Jesus' crown of thorns worn on a splinter-laden cross; and so...

Naked I came from my mother's womb,
and naked I will depart.
The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away;
may the name of the Lord be praised.
In all this, Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing
(Job 1:21-22)

Grace.Grace.

Admittedly, others experience worse problems than ours. Rating the degree of trials and adversities is impossible. Like comparing apples to oranges, or differentiating 50 shades of purple. But the point is that many of our problems seemed to contain punctuation darts (→), appearing to emphasize patterns or maybe to help capture our attention, and they began soon after the souvenir's arrival. Crazy-cray, I know. I feel like A Beautiful Mind's Delusional John Nash balanced with The Bible's Dejected Job. In retrospect, that is exactly how it felt when our career world came crashing down November 2015.

Metaphorically speaking, with no exaggeration intended, at times it was like we were in a shaky, face-to-face duel with a sharpshooter or sinister force. Or, in the trenches, with wild shrapnel flying overhead. Like a powerful bomb suddenly exploded just yards ahead of us, forcefully knocking us to the ground. We were starving when an undeserved chunk of bread was handed to us. We marched forth, like gaunt prisoners. We experienced it all, but little penetrated us. We were actually in the thick of it, yet not. A positive Force was protecting us. For some undeserved reason, mercy covered us. And as we cowered fearing a venomous enemy, our eyes were opened to safety. We chose to hold onto a higher perspective.

About 3 months ago, we were hit with what for us felt like the daughter-of-all-blind-sides, our career dreams were shattered; with yet another down-pocketbook trajectory rather than the anticipated up or stable. That is when the anecdotal frog-in-the-slowly-heating-pan-of-water came to mind. We decided to react rather than "boil" alive. Instead of blaming ourselves or tangible others, we looked deeper. Our frame of reference morphed.

Paranoid questions began to surface, like: Can we somehow stop bad things from happening? And, later, feeling dejected after losing a few "coin flips": Does everyone see us as losers? 

Ten years of head-scratching prompted our serious examination. We found a prayer wall and I created a war womb. Deep soul-searching and specific, desperate, wails began: "Show us the way!" This blog presents one of the varied insights we received: that souvenir. It emerges as one of my top-two dispelling frames of reference, and the two of them seem to be connected, like a zipper.* My always logical husband questions the soundness, but he also understands the potential benefits of my conclusions. Pitching that souvenir cost us nothing, and just might change things.

March 2 Liberty

We feel an unnatural peace. Jesus is what we NEED him to be (Savior), not what we WANT him to be (Santa). He wore a crown of thorns on a splinter-laden cross, for me. He was and is Savior, through it all. Every April fool's is the vivid anniversary of THE day of my March 31st cancer surgery ... that nixed my untimely death in 2006. And to every other intangible death we could have experienced in the past decade. In other words, no permanent death of dreams; no lingering heartache and cynicism about one thing or another. Instead, God has shown us his ultimate power, helping us through every day of our shaky 50s, nearly unscathed, with no regrets, and hopefully better people rather than bitter.

Were we overly vigilant towards that idol souvenir? And how could it even find its way into our home? I have a theory. But I repeat, why store or house a potential carved or graven image? Even if it is a keepsake? We gladly and energetically rid ourselves of that "fifth fulks." And, on a side note, how did we unknowingly repeat the harmful choices of my ancestry, whose house purchase decades ago was just blocks from a grand house of idol-worship? With ensuing ancestry heartache and permanent troubles.

We have felt famine in various ways, but know that God's strategic plans are so much wiser than ours. And His grace is more than enough. Only One has the final, final say. God's love is certain, no matter what happens. After ample and admittedly selfish, mindful reflection, we hope to once again live out and give out.

Our experiences have changed us, and we are repaired people 

* This Awakening is compliments of "Tangled Destinies," Author Johanna Garrison. The second awakening is heritage-related, also gladly disposed of... in other posts.

Cryptic Conclusion

That 50s decade is only a memory, cleared of unnecessary baggage. Our 60s decade prepares to shift out of stalled neutral as we embrace forward-thinking: To benefit others through our destiny callings [now age-adjusted]; and, to cherish a grandchild or three. In other words, my Seuss-self can only express its joy in cryptic-combo fashion ...

And, so, to liberty we go

Jacklight & jiving

Yes, to liberty we Will go

Cleaving to hope

Because, in our family, March 2's Seuss is now co-billed

with Isla Faith

Grace! Grace! for Valentine's Day: The Waiting Game

What Not to Fear? The dreaded WAIT. Most of us cringe at the idea of waiting because it implies within it the nasty, agonizing, and sometimes embarrassment-fraught day-to-day word: Patience. We either need or want a situation to change, and we wait. The waiting game provides time for frustration and doubt to surface. Tick. Tick. Time seems to be running out. Let the following story erase doubt and increase faith as we bravely face the dreaded waiting game.

A Senior needs a newer dependable car. Her 21-year-old 226k-mile G[e]M still purrs like a kitten, but on-and-off for the last 8 widowed years she has wondered if the next repair will wipe out her savings (we have learned that angels do work overnight, as mechanics and watchdogs). A neighbor across the street has a used car for sale. It bears a few minor cosmetic dings that his recently-departed 90-year-old brother-in-law experienced (a mailbox here, a light pole there). It, too, is a GM, a 2009, with only 56k miles on it. The newer GM is likely the very make and model her late husband would have wanted to buy for her before his death♥

She hesitantly inspects the one-owner vehicle. Could this be the long-awaited-for car? Finally? It was driven by a non-smoker, with no lingering fragrance scents (check)… rare pluses for a used car buyer with asthma♥ She manages to shyly haggle the price down $500♥ And within less than 24 hours, her own sentimental GM is sold to a Facebook Friend for his two young teens (check), with a full tank of gas included and basically new tires. Its sale was helpful to finance the priciest and most complicated transaction she’s made solo in her senior life♥

She drives the newer car home, with license plate installation provided (thanks, Neighbor). And, too, a free full tank of gas, and good tires♥ The purchase is meticulously tucked or lovingly sandwiched between her husband’s January 9th passing date (8 years ago) and Valentine’s Day♥

Hearts were all over those blended transactions, with punctuation heart after punctuation heart of God’s faithfulness♥

And now, a vital word from our Sponsor ♥ ♥ ♥

This story took 8 somewhat composed years to play out... before it could be composed. Patience keeps the mind open to clear thinking for when the prime opportunity does arrive. Our loving God is able, and His grace and blessings are more than enough for every tomorrow (to keep a special vintage GeM running for 8 additional years) AND leveling mountains to rubble (providing the affordable, newer GM). Bless it. Bless it.

The promises below can be ours, too, as we aWAIT supernatural closure. For needed cars, and promotions, and tweaked purposes, and spouses, and children, and strained relationships, and health issues, and home ownership. Align the wait with an open mindset of how the need will be filled.

So he said to me, “This is the word of the Lord to Zerubbabel:

‘Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit,’ says the Lord Almighty.

“What are you, mighty mountain? Before Zerubbabel you will become level ground.
Then he will bring out the capstone to shouts of ‘God bless it! God bless it!’”

♥(Zechariah 4:6-7)♥

Disappointing Disappointment

It is early 1920s, and because of the absence of TV, the evening news, talk shows, and Facebook, the delayed after-effects of 1914-1918's World War I are slowly beginning to be felt. The war plus the 1918 Spanish Flu pandemic took many soldiers' lives. September 28, 1918, Philadelphia held a grand parade, to sell war bonds. With people packed tightly on the streets. That parade helped the flu to spread in Philly, like wildfire. Hospital beds were overflowing, and people were dying in the streets. 

Widow Cora heard what the pandemic could do, and acted accordingly. Husband Elias died in 1905, when Daughter Iva was just 8 years old. Now-20-Something Iva was asked to stay safe at home, away from germs, during her prime marrying years. The war's after-effects with the flu's scare lasted for what seemed like an eternity. 

Bachelors in small towns were scarce. Red-head, 23-year-old, tall and somewhat scrawny yet agreeably charming George is one of the younger bachelors who either survived the war or did not serve at all. With dirt-poor upbringings, he faced few other choices but to remain in small-town Iowa.

Early 1922, it is speculated that brick-layer George and 2-years-his-senior 25-year-old Iva re-kindled their years-earlier acquaintance. French Iva is solidly-built, with a severe nose, untuned vocal chords, and unruly jet-black hair. She is the second youngest child of eight, raised in a sheltered home. Isolated, she is gullible and lacks street smarts. Overall, she's not the most colorful crayon in the box. Iva is, however, ardently determined. Determined to the point of using rash or wild measures to catch a husband. Rash for a reason; her youthful time clock is ticking, and everybody knows it. The harmless question, "So, what are you up to these days?" only re-surfaces the spinster elephant in the room, as well as stinging reality.

Remember that bachelors near to Spinster Iva's age or older either died fighting for their country, died because of the pandemic, or they returned to live anywhere but Podunk. Over the years, her 7 siblings all left home, to marry, or for other reasons. Maybe her isolated mother possessed a less strategic jump than connected-others in their small-town community. She finally awakens to a perplexing phenomenon: Young, eligible prospects near to Iva's age have been scarce for years, and that particular age group will always be scarce, even though soldiers have returned from war. (In other words, the chances for decades-later yours-truly to ever be born are looking slim.)

1930 "Nevada Abbey" & 1922 love-child
Dirt poor, all live on strict Grandpa L's farm, under one roof
For perspective, Downton Abbey Seasons 1-6 were set 1912-1925
Remember Edith's love-child shame? Pretty much the same

Financially strapped Cora wants her daughter married and reminds Iva of it most days. Each and every day, Iva's attentions and hormones increasingly focus on finding Mr. Right. She wants children. She was born to be a mother. Her expectations must re-adjust. George was raised STRICT 7th Day Adventist, and he rebels from his childhood beliefs. He is more daring than Iva, but they have a common bond. He has experienced disappointment, and fatherless Iva is experiencing hers. This 20-something couple (and their living parents) will see their wildest nightmare play out, and Iva will feel shame. A nightmare because events occur out of order. The cart comes before the horse. Creating a glaring problem and varied disappointments, mishandled afterward. In other words, intimate relations occur before marriage, with an unwed pregnancy. What-not-to-do to their religious parents, especially in small-town 1922.

It is the steamy and complicated material upon which 21st-century classy soap operas thrive. Yet, the events play out in homespun Nevada, Iowa, to two religious families. It is one of the cover-ups that we kids were never told. Dad's father and mother (my dirt-poor paternal grandparents) entered into a marriage-of-necessity on June 19, 1922. And too soon thereafter for the 1922 couple to ever cover-up, just 6 months later, their first child (Dad's older sister) was born, on December 31, 1922. In those days, premature 6-month-olds did not survive birth. That is why I surmise she was a Love Child. 

At some point meager finances gave the young couple little other choice but to live with Bricklayer George's parents, rather than with Iva's widowed 61-year-old Mom (IF she was still living). Maybe it was after "the fire" that Mom once mentioned. Recalling Dad's brief stories, about quiet Sabbath afternoons and his strict, Bible-reading Paternal Grandfather, I surmise there was a living-under-one-roof, tight situation. 

Their wedding date reverberated loudly while searching on Ancestry.com. First, because 10 days short of 85 years later, our daughter, their great-Granddaughter's wedding date was so close to theirs, June 9, 2007. The date would never have stood out if Iva's wedding month/day wasn't deja-vu to my daughter's. And secondly, Love Child was also born in the year 1922. I scratched my head, "What?" If their baby had been born even one day later, into the New Year (January 1, 1923), I never would have noticed. It was like our heritage was screaming that this secret is important and needed to be uncovered.

Unless heritage pain is dealt with, it passes on to the next generation(s). I always believed my Grandmother was strict and perfectly religious, but she was mega-human and more than covered it up, and Dad believed he successfully covered it up, too. I admire their devotion to each other as a family, but grieve Iva's judgmental attitude toward Mom (I saw one of Iva's firm letters written to Dad). Dad must have erroneously thought he would be a “Judas” for sharing his Mother’s secret with us; I now look like “Judas.” I pray that instead God sees a sincere “Peter,” the active Disciple; God knew Peter's heart, and He knows mine.

These events occurred on (what Dad referred to as) "the wrong-side-of-the-tracks." In other words, it was Dad's family shame. In his childhood home, a young boy was forced to observe and hone the skillful art of hiding and denial, to help protect his family and the sister who adored her little brother so much. And as an adult, he was compelled to protect in the next generation a close relative's double-life. It was a requirement, and it helps me understand him better, and admire their ardent loyalty to each other and to family. 

Sadly, that honed skill of hiding and denial, and covering up, helped Dad to successfully live two adult lives... as a functioning and charming, busy lawyer as well as a sporadic, angry alcoholic. He projected his mother's indiscretion (and our maternal grandfather's infidelity) onto his shy, stay-at-home, work-widow wife, as paranoid fears. Dad's 90-minute roundtrip-work-drive with 10- to 14- hour workdays most likely helped foster deep insecurities about whether his beautiful young wife was faithful to him and their marriage. Ignore and hide a problem and it goes away? That's not what we learned. The problem grows.

And now for some vital words from our... Almighty Sponsor.

The deep issue in my grandmother's story is... famine. The feelings are... disappointment and fear. During times of disappointment, Vader's greatest allies are wavering impatience and screaming insecurities. What protective posture shouldn't win out? inVader? (rash decisions based on inner fears) and/or eVader? (deny or evade the true issue, in any way possible). Pick your poison and try to manage the consequences. My grandmother chose both of those protective measures; she made a rash decision for marriage, and then everything (except, of course, her love child) was covered up afterward. Sadly, we know little about Dad's father George Henry (our paternal grandfather) except that he was a brick-layer who died of skin cancer when Dad was just 20. And, we have no record of the names of George Henry's parents (our paternal great grandparents) except for their very common last name.

When life feels like one perpetual Groundhog Day. The Worst.Day.Ever repeats itself. Day, after day, after day. The on-&-on-a-thons of life. Seeing others of similar ages getting married. Or receiving promotions. Or having children. Or health challenges that won't heal. Disappointment, with pain so deep a heart hurts, can also impact one's felt-value. The big "L" is seemingly branded on the forehead for all to see. Life feels unfair. Each and every day begins with the same alarm clock, making the same beep or ring, hearing the same morning radio announcer, sharing the same identical zingers. Zingers that no longer amuse, because they sting.

A third alternative promotes vulnerability. This posture might have made it possible for my parents to pass down balanced ancestry stories to us, as well as names and heritage backgrounds. Seek... the road less traveled: Transparency with God... He is El Roi, the God who sees me. Rather than that idea being fearful (because we all sin) it can be comforting, like it was for Servant Hagar in the desert... and her dire, impoverished need for Son Ishmael. The same God sees me and my children. Include a safe measure of transparency with at least one person. Use discretion, and don't deny.

What not to fear? Disappointment and dismay. Pray "show me the way." Search for insight and awareness. Don't stuff your feelings, and earnestly hold to hope; because emotional strength depends on it. Explore options and face the truth (Know Thyself University). And, 24/7, practice God's presence and embrace the promises below, sent from the Almighty. If not for ourselves, for the sake of future generations!

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand (Isaiah 41:10).

I found my life when I laid it down. Let it go, lay it down.