Most stories require a little
background, and mine is no different. My parents made choices based on how they
were raised, and I, in turn, am making decisions based on how their choices
affected me.
Both mom and dad were born in the
same mid-western town. Dad was the child born of a one-night stand whose mother
was sent away to have her baby to preserve the family reputation. He was placed
up for adoption at birth.
A young military man and his wife became
his adopted parents. The two would also adopt a baby girl. Sadly, the man was
killed on deployment while dad was fairly young, so the man's wife became a
single mother. Later, she remarried a kindly gentleman who lived next door.
As far as I know, dad's childhood
was pretty normal. His family went on weekend camping trips, often spending
hours hunting for arrowheads. He hated camping as an adult, however. I think it
had something to do with how his sister reportedly disliked camping and would
make things difficult.
I do know, however, that grandpa is
a perfectionist who expects others to live up to his standards. Dad and his sister responded to this
upbringing differently. While dad became
a perfectionist himself, imposing his own standards on others, my aunt refused
to conform. She chose to live her own
life, earning a reputation as the black sheep of the family.
When he got to be a young adult, dad
was pretty normal. Because of his love
of cars, he chose to become an auto-body mechanic. On one occasion he got in
trouble for drinking. He grew a moustache and tended to have longish hair. And
he might have smoked at one time, but I'm not sure on that point. Now, dad
looks back at his younger self and wishes he had done things better.
Mom was born a few years after dad
as the youngest daughter of a local farmer. Her first few years were spent on a
farmstead in a neighboring town. Her family would later move across the state
border to a large house with beautiful wood floors.
She also grew up the daughter of a
drunk. From the stories I heard, her family life was hard. There was a lot of
fighting and yelling when grandpa was drinking. He was mentally and emotionally
abusive. I don't know if he was ever physically abusive.
Additionally, grandma being a stern
practical woman carried on her family’s legacy of performance based
acceptance. She loved her children the
best way she could, but felt she could not express that love unless the child
behaved properly. So, my own mother often did the same to us kids growing up.
Through it all, mom and her sisters
and grandma were a tight-knit group. They stuck by each other through the hard
times. When mom was in high school, it became public that grandpa had been
cheating on grandma. She filed for divorce, and then she took mom, the only
daughter still living at home, back to live in the town where mom had been
born. During this time, mom was a bit of a rebel. She got her own apartment,
cut her hair short and wore overalls constantly.
Mom and dad met for the first time
at a bowling alley where mom worked as a waitress. She was 17 and he was 21.
His age and long hair caused my grandma some consternation when mom brought him
home, but grandma couldn't say much when mom pointed out that he had been
willing to come meet her.
As a kid, I loved hearing about how
they became each other’s best friend and spent all their time together. I
decided when I grew up that I wouldn't marry unless I could have that same love
and close friendship.
They married a few days before my
mom's 18th birthday. Like a typical couple back then, they bought a house and
prepared to build a family. A few years later, my brother came along: born
breach two weeks late in an April blizzard on my dad's birthday.
Mom and dad say it was starting a
family that got them thinking. As a young married couple, they did not attend
church because they both had been raised protestant, although in different
denominations, and had observed hypocrisy and insincerity among the other
church members. They wanted a better life for the family they were starting.
Meanwhile, grandma happily
remarried. Her new husband was a fine
man, a dentist, who liked to dance. Circumstances led them to visit a local
independent fundamental baptist (ifb) church. They came to be baptized there and
to give up dancing. A short time later, grandma's new husband was tragically
killed in a car accident after falling asleep at the wheel. His funeral was
held at the ifb church, and that was my parent's first contact.
Mom and dad were impressed with the members
of the ifb church. Grandma, who then lived in an apartment connected with her
late-husband's dental practice, had to move. The church folks and even the
pastor showed up ready to work and helped her get situated in a new apartment.
This act of kindness made my parents more open to the pastor when he came by on
a visitation night.
Pretty soon, they decided to visit
the church one Sunday and liked it well enough to return the Sunday after that.
That's all it took. That second Sunday, they both went forward during the
invitation time after the sermon and got saved. They were baptized that same
evening. Dad's parents eventually came too and got saved. They still attend the
same ifb church to this day.