Showing posts with label separation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label separation. Show all posts

Wednesday 22 June 2016

The Twins Are Still Separated

Two Mothers, Twin Daughters

Chapter Nineteen

Some folks seem to enjoy reading excerpts from the book I am writing, so I’ll update you once again.
T hree years went by, and the twins were still separated.

Margaret listened; for once the children were quiet. It seemed they had settled down nicely for their naps, the two younger ones, that is, and Davey Junior wouldn’t be released from school for another hour or so.  She reached for her Bible on the nearby nightstand and took the latest letter from Marita out from just inside the back cover. She clutched it in her hands while bowing her head in prayer.  The much read letter was already a year old so Margaret needed to carefully unfold the sharp creases to read it once more.

“Dear Margaret,
I can’t bear to tell my dear mother-in-law what we are going through so hope you can take it since I feel I would crack up if I couldn’t share with someone!

Randall’s out of work—again, has been for three months this time. In a way I am not sorry he lost this job but we are in desperate straits. He had had an epileptic fit while on scaffolding and fell. The job wasn’t waiting for him when his leg finally mended.  

Sometimes I am at my wits end to know how to respond to him.  We are hungry nearly all the time yet I know he finds enough money to spend on beer. How long must I excuse his behavior on the war? Does David sometimes seem to be unreasonable---still?

Oh, Margaret, what can I ever do? I would offer to take in babysitting but our one room suite and half bath are far too crowded to entertain extra children. Besides most of the 'Rosie the Riveter' type of women are 'back at home where they belong' as the men would say.

Thank you so much for the gift of money you slipped in your last letter.  Oh, Margaret, it’s a good thing Randall wasn’t home when the mailman arrived with the cash. I bawled buckets and Emily was all over me trying to be comforting so I explained that they were happy tears.

I  hope I can someday repay you.  I have to dole it out slowly so he won’t get suspicious and wonder where it came from. As it is I keep any little bit I have hidden because he rifles through my purse in the vain hope I’d have some money stashed away.

So far I have only bought a small bag of oatmeal and some powdered milk with the money, and oh yes, a bag of carrots because they keep for a long time in the icebox, we won’t go hungry for a while.

Emily is healthy, for which I thank the Lord. Her sweetness and innocence helps me to trust our Heavenly Father more. I have much time on my hands so often turn to Mum-in-law’s Bible in time of need. I still worry a lot and get sharp with Randall way too often, but I’m glad I have Emily and I’m glad I have God.

Lots of love, |
Marita

P.S. Sorry for being so full of myself: I really do want a long, fully detailed letter about everything that’s going on in your life and especially about Alice...of course!

P.S. 2. We are in Vancouver now, but I’m sure we will be moving soon.

Margaret refolded the letter then gently placed it back between the worn covers of the Bible.  She sat lost in thought until her burdened heart caused her to slip to her knees in prayer. She laid her head on her arm.

“It’s been so long, Lord. Marita is almost dearer to me that a flesh and blood sister might be. Please be with her. Keep her, comfort her, and help Randall to overcome his drinking habit. Thou knowest what awful memories are still gripping him, and we don’t.  Thou knowest the anxiety Marita faces: please help him to find a good job, and keep it. May Marita continue to call upon you when the floods threaten to overwhelm her—“

“Mommy, Alice spilled  milk on the floor!”


It was obvious that Sally would have gotten the milk out of the refrigerator because Alice was too young to handle the door.  Alice was on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor with a tea towel.

“Let’s not use a tea towel to clean the floor next time, okay, Sweetie. Sally, you fetch a rag from the rag bag.”

“But she spilled it!”

“Just do as I tell you.”

 “Alice, wait for Mommy to pour your milk for you okay”— she almost called her ‘Sweetie’ again but then remembered it was too easy to favor the daughter of her troubled friend over the other two.

Margaret was thoughtful, prayerful, as she tended to her motherly duties . They walked to the corner to meet Davey and he prattled joyfully about his day at school, she served them cookies and milk but she hardly heard them.

David came home two hours later and once again Margaret was so thankful that the man she married had a steady job as a mechanic. There were still far too many veterans drifting aimlessly through life, addicted to the bottle, and not coping well with their violent past. David seemed to be so steady in comparison. 

Wednesday 9 March 2016

Better Than a Fairy Tale? Not Yet

A continuation of my spiritual journey.
Thank you Google Images for the wonderful snapshots.
So what happened next? There were many things of course, but what is really important? Eventually Mom and Dad separated and Dad took some of us younger ones to a runty little shack he built himself and we were supposed to start school in a new, far distant area. I was appointed, or rather accepted the job of head cook and clothes washer. With wood heating, which I wasn’t familiar with and inexperience combined, well, let’s just say it was a new experience for me.
I was introduced to a new ‘religion’ also. I wasn’t used to his new way of worshipping which included speaking in tongues that reached a higher and higher crescendo and numerous people walking in and out of the building during services and it made me fearful.
I did a lot of searching and praying during this time. It is still precious to me how God illuminated the Word for a sincere young teenager. I can still clearly remember how various Scriptures came to life for me and I knew He was giving me direction.
While I was holed up with my younger siblings in that out of the way homemade ‘trailer’ I got really sick with Hepatitis which must have lasted at least three weeks. Not a fun time, too be sure, but there was not only a silver lining in the clouds after this happened, but better than that it was like a rainbow in my memory.
It was the fall of the year so the leaves were turning color. One afternoon while I was still weak, but slowly getting better, I went for a walk in the woods and they were graced with natural autumn beauty. This meandering stroll was a time of communing with God. I felt him so close amidst His creation that later I wrote a rather long essay about it. Had I found ‘heaven’ at last? No, but it was another oasis of peace in a troubled lifestyle. I treasure to this day those little touches from God that kept me going.
Mom had found her way back to ‘her own people’ and their quiet, peaceful, loving ways were a drawing to me. I had a cousin my age who reached out to me but when Dad intercepted one of my responses to her there were dire consequences.
S. Please check out my book. (Link below.) If you want to escape from a troubled past and hope for a better future, this may be the most comforting book you will ever read, 


Tuesday 8 March 2016

Better Than a Fairy Tale? Well Not Yet

Okay, I promised to tell more of my life-story so here goes.
So here I was just a young teenager with my heart torn and bleeding. I didn’t know it at the time, but that impassive indifference between me and the pastor of the church we had always attended had started a rift.
Things didn’t get better, right away, they worsened. Soon I was facing the worse day of my life, and that is not a trite statement! I still think it probably was, and it became a pivotal point in my journey. Dad asked, no, rather expected me to go along with him on one of his numerous electrical trips to far flung communities. I had gone along before with a certain amount of trepidation because of what he had attempted to do to me in the past. (Ya, and had done when I was younger.)
So here I was in some little farmhouse in the middle of Who-Knows-Where and I walked into the pale, non-descript kitchen, and stopped. They are talking about me. I froze. Dad was talking about giving me away, abandoning me like an unwanted kitten or puppy. Oh, sure, it was called fostering, but I didn’t think of it that way. I just knew he wanted to tear me away from the only family I knew and loved.
I don’t remember how I arrived there, but suddenly found myself in the woods across the graveled road with tall, very tall fir trees surrounding me. To say I bawled my eyes out isn’t trite, either. Don’t know how long I stayed there, but common sense told me I had to go back eventually, so I did. No one had missed me.
I wandered around, looking into the spare bedroom, etc. and wondered if this would be my new home.
Time was moving along so I looked in on ‘them’ in the kitchen. They were still talking, but I got the drift of it, the farm wife didn’t think it would be a good idea to take me in. I didn’t linger to hear more.
The news was too little, and too late. The damage was done. I went to the car and sooner or later Dad joined me. We drove off leaving my innocent childhood behind.

 P.S. Please check out my book. (Link below.) If you want to escape from a troubled past and hope for a better future, this may be the most comforting book you will ever read,