Spiritual Things Matter

Standing back and watching
as people come and go.
I notice on their faces
stories that have not been told.

Deep within their hearts
are words they utter not
for fear that no one would understand
but criticize their travailing heart.

Pains from the past they carry
as if just happened yesterday.
They are blinded to their own Power - within,
or perhaps, they have not yet been made aware.

They carry the shame of mistakes they’ve made -
and cover it up with a mask that fits tight.
The dark thoughts of disparity run rampant
as they figure out some way to hide.

When their anger is turned inward
in deep depression they usually fall.
If their anger is turned outward
then others take the fall.

Humanity does struggle
to come to terms with life itself.
They somehow conjure up
that all is complex and thus, they fall into despair.

It is through their passions of tears,
of love and anger, desires and fears;
through the yearning of things not yet received-
that Light begins to penetrate and finally shines to heal.

In humility, I bow to you, my dearest God -
Comfort your people, bring peace of heart.
Oh, comfort those that feel desperately alone-
shedding tears of hidden pain unknown.

Comfort those that have gone astray;
Breathe upon them as You bring clarity along the way.
Comfort those that have fallen - have been bruised and scarred at best-
that they might find a Higher Way, a place of Peace and Rest.

Oh, comfort them, comfort them- my dearest God.
Your Grace is sufficient -
Your Strength is made perfect
in the weakness of men’s hearts.

No more blind leading the blind -
No more deaf ears that cannot hear.
No more eyes that have dimly seen
No more hearts that were only lead by fear.

In Your Grace and through Your Grace-
the moment has come for change.
Your Loving-Kindness is better then life
so comfort Your people, I pray!

~Viola M. Jaynes

We can believe what we choose. We are answerable for what we choose to believe. ~Cardinal Newman

I have given much thought to the recent events that took place at Virginia Tech, and why a human being would allow himself to get to a place of such evil - assuming he was not mentally ill. I thought about the scripture that speaks of having “the conscience seared with a hot iron” found in I Tim.4:2. This verse is very revealing when looked at closer.

When I heard about this young man’s feelings of isolation and extreme loneliness, I could not help but reflect on my own sense of aloneness that I experienced all of my childhood and young adulthood. Having been placed in an orphanage between the ages of 1-2, and then having had a different social worker every 2 years as I grew older, had brought into my life a sense of uncertainty and lack of security. During my years in the orphanage, I lost my brother. Also, I had numerous other challenges to deal with while living in a group dynamic. When I was 14 years old, I came to the United States not knowing how to speak English, and was placed in a strange home where I did not know anyone. The family I lived with had many problems, and I became a threat upon which others would vent their hate and anger. It was not a home at all but simply a place where I lived.

My pain went beyond words, and my loneliness was beyond description. There was no way for me to escape. I felt trapped in an environment that was truly poisonous. I did not fit in at school because I could not even communicate. Once I was able to communicate at some level, I still felt isolated and different from the rest. When I was 15, I began to work - in addition to going to school, and I had to deal with many of the same issues in the workplace.

I moved away when I was 19, and began my own life. I have suffered extreme depression and a sense of isolation and disconnection from the world. Because I was not familiar enough with the health field or where to get information for help, I lived with my pain alone and dealt with my depression alone. I did not even fully understand that I was suffering from depression. I often would have deep sobbing periods, and I always thought it was simply because I did not have anyone in my own life. At work, no one ever knew what my interior make-up was like. For the most part, I suffered in silence.

I married my husband at 26 years old and had my first child at age 36. My husband and I have been married 18 years now, and at times I reflect on all that I have come through. I have been asked -”How did you do it?” The only answer that I could possibly give is God. My isolation and aloneness brought me to a place to seek meaning in my life. I sought God because I believed there was a God. I chose to follow a higher calling of love and mercy because that is what I desired most in my life. I chose to seek ways to rid myself of the internalized anger which had expressed itself in depression and times of deep sorrow and sobbing. I chose to find ways of wholeness for my troubled mind and my broken heart.

I am 45 years old now with two wonderful children in my life that challenge my way of thinking and being in this world. They draw me out when often I would prefer to stay within myself. My children bring laughter to my heart when at times I simply feel alone and melancholy. My husband and I can talk about any subject under the sun, which is a gift that I have learned to cherish more and more as the years go on. We deal with real life issues as all couples do, and look at our relationship in the most honest and realistic way possible. It is good to be in a relationship where there is nothing to hide. We both feel fortunate for that and our love has deepened because of it.

It is because of these and many other positive events and relationships that I’ve been able to look at life in a new way and in a much more positive light. These have strengthened me, challenged me, and helped me to stretch and grow.

It is clear that we as human beings have a choice to make while on this earth. We can choose with what ideals we want to identify. What principles speak loudest to us in the deepest parts of ourselves? This can be made most clear to us when there are times of extreme pressure and pain in our lives.

Blaming society and circumstances because of our perceived lack is only a “joining together” of a very negative belief system which will then set forth a systematic discourse of how we choose to live our lives. Where does this blaming take us? What light or insight is there in groveling in the filth of disparity and fear? What positive and creative potential could possibly lie in such a self-abhorring mentality? It only will lead to an unhealthy projection outward of that which so troubles the heart and mind within oneself.

It is so unfortunate –again assuming that he was able to make a healthy choice — that this young man chose to kill and take away life instead of contributing to life in some form or fashion. It is so unfortunate that he never was able to find a meaningful way to grow and express himself. It is so unfortunate that he allowed the unjust teasing and embarrassment he received to eat away at him on such a deep level. It is so profoundly sad for all those who stood in his way. How much better would it have been had he only been willing to change and make a life of his own without blaming everyone around him.

While it is true that ultimately we are truly responsible for our own lives, let us take an active part in developing a sharp and focused eye that we might find those lonely hearts and touch them in some meaningful way. A small act of kindness can motivate a human being to find a higher and more meaningful way to live.

I know from experience that those who have been most thoughtful with me have also been the ones who have inspired me to be the very best that I could be.

Love can never be underestimated!

Should you, my dear reader, be one of those lonely hearts, I pray that you will realize what Winston Churchhill said, “Never, never, never give up”. I am conviced that there is always hope!

We must accept finite disappointment, but we must never lose infinite hope. ~Martin Luther King Jr.

Many people with whom I come in contact are interested in what happened to my mother. Having a German accent, it is not easy to escape the questions of how it came about that I moved to America. Most of the time, I simply say it is a long story. Though, I do share my story when someone seems particularly interested. Many of my readers have asked some of these questions and thus, I will share this story with you today.

An elderly lady rented out an apartment in her house to my mother while my father, an American G.I., was stationed in Germany during the Berlin Crisis. This lady got to know my mother relatively well and at times would watch over me as a baby. My father eventually finished with his service in the Army and came back to the United States but could not bring my mother and me with him. I don’t know the reasons behind why we couldn’t come with him. Between 1-2 years old, I was put in an orphanage. My brothers (one is a year younger than I am, and my baby brother is about 3 years younger) were also, in time, put in the same orphanage. Eventually, my youngest brother was adopted out of that infant orphanage, and Jean and I were then transferred to a second orphanage for older children. My story, “An Easter Package,” on this blog tells the story of how Jean was adopted out as well. I stayed in the orphanage until I was 14 years old - at which time, my father had found me and brought me to the States.

This elderly lady, whom we called “Fraule,” came and visited us about every other Sunday in the orphanage. My mother had already moved out of her apartment and Fraule no longer had any contact with her. Once Jean and I were transferred to the second orphanage, she still would come to see us until I turned about six years old and then Jean and I would take the bus and the trolley from the orphanage to her house and back. I would always make sure that we sat close to the driver so he could tell us where to get off. After a while, I knew the route well. Fraule was, by that time, getting too old to make that trip, but still wanted us to come about every other weekend and also a week or two during vacations.

After Jean was adopted, I would make this trip alone and it became a pattern to which I became accustomed. One day, I arrived at Fraule’s house and as I passed the window, I noticed someone else was sitting in the kitchen with her. I walked in and Fraule introduced me to her. I said hello, but then proceeded to sit down to play with my toys. I kept looking at this woman feeling as though I knew her somehow. Something was different about her. At one point, she asked if I would sit on her lap, but I was way too shy for such a gesture and since I was used to living in an orphanage, we simply did not have that kind of closeness. I was embarrassed and turned her down. The lady frowned on that, but Fraule did not force the issue.

After this woman left, Fraule told me that she was my mother. I looked out of the window to see if I could see her one more time and I was able to watch as she walked away. Little did I know that this would be the only meeting with her for the rest of my life. It was a very strange feeling and I wondered why I did not live with her. Fraule explained that she had many problems and all I really ever learned about her were negative things. When Fraule would get irritated with me, she would always say, “You will grow up just like your mother.” Of course, I had no idea what that meant, but I knew it was not good.

My mother-in-law’s hobby is genealogy and she has become very good at it. She has been able to trace her own history back many generations. Both she and my husband have encouraged me to find my own family for years. About ten years ago, she gave me the name of a German woman who could possibly help me with that search. After a conversation with this woman on the phone, I hired her. In a very short time, she found my mother’s family living in a small town outside of Dresden, East Germany - grandparents, three uncles, an aunt and a number of cousins. I was also surprised to learn that I had another older half-brother whom I had never heard of before. Soon after my family was found, my husband and I flew to Dresden to meet them. It was an exciting time for me. My husband was 100% convinced that they were my family because they all had pointed chins like I do. Tickled with this obvious trait, I was convinced as well.

During our visit, we were treated like royalty and we had such a wonderful time together. However, it was during this visit that I was told about my mother. They said that she had defected from East Germany and left her son behind for her parents to raise and showed little interest in her family. Her brother, a former guard near the East/West German border, let her pass into West Germany for a day of “shopping.” Unfortunately, none of them had anything good to say about her. I was able to see some photos of her when she was younger, and I was surprised at just how much I look like her. For the first time, I felt compassion for this person and my heart went out to her.

After our return, my husband and I talked about my mother extensively, and we both agreed that this is still only one side of the story. Aside from various opinions, we didn’t truely know the conditions behind why my mother decided to leave for West Germany. I made the decision to locate her. I did in fact do so and began to write her letters. I would get answers periodically, but she never answered any questions and I realized that she simply could not face what had happened in her life. I then found out that she was suffering from lung cancer and had been put in the hospital for treatments. Two times, while in Nuernberg, I tried to visit her. Both times, she left until I was back in the States. One of those times, she even checked herself out from the hospital just before I arrived, and then checked herself back in once I had returned to the States.

I realized that she could not face me and I wanted to let her know that it was okay. I wrote her a letter and explained to her that not any kind of explanation was necessary. I have a good life, my own family and my own home. I have aspirations and hopes and all I wanted was to simply wish her peace of mind and wholeness in every area of her life. I ordered flowers for her hospital room a few times and then one day, I mustered the courage to actually call her on the telephone while she was in the hospital. I was so afraid because I had pictured in my mind this rough, harsh woman with a deep and tough voice due to all the stories that I had heard about her. However, as the phone rang, and she answered, I had on the other end of the line, a woman with a gentle and kind voice. It was not at all what I had expected.

I was sad for this person because for whatever reasons, she never could find a constructive path for herself. She had suffered in many ways and lost so much. I felt sad for her because her brokenness was deep and unrepairable in this lifetime. I felt sad for her because her natural beauty had been turned into a reflection of lost hope. I prayed for her daily. About a year after I made contact with her, she passed away. As I wept for her, I could only hope that she had found peace in her heart with God. I was reminded what Proverbs tells us, “Hope deferred maketh the heart sick: but when the desire cometh, it is a tree of life.” Prov. 13:12

In a strange way, in some form or fashion, I realized I loved her …. for she was my mother. She was the one who had given birth to me, she was the one who cared for me for that first year of my life. I look like her and yet the words that Fraule so often would say to me, “You will be just like your mother one day,” are words that have no meaning to me. I have been given a life filled with so much mystery, so much adventure and so much hunger to know God. I am deeply thankful for His grace and mercy in my life. I am indeed blessed!