My last Thursday night....

I went solo...again...with my two boys.

Things didn't look the same as we pulled into the parking lot, and entered the vestibule of the building. Not that they'd changed things up, since the remodel, but I saw people and situations in a different way.  It was hard to explain, but it wasn't what I'd hope to see.

After the meaningless conversations, singing the 10 songs, and some playtime for the boys, [shorter than had been in the past], I took the boys home and sat down to converse with my husband about the evening, how his day was, etc. 

I couldn't contain the tears. 

"Please..." I cried..."Don't make me go back there..." as I shook my head in disbelief that it had taken so long for me to see our future wasn't there. 

It wasn't in the 10 songs. 

It wasn't in the playtime.

It wasn't in the conversations about our vacations.

Where was our future? This I was unsure of. But I KNEW it wasn't there. 

God opened my eyes to what "this" I'd been fighting so hard for, and struggling so much with actually was. It was not a life for our children. It was not salvation for me or my husband.  I really wasn't sure what "it" was...gathering myself together with people that had no clue of the reality of what we needed.

From that night on, we discussed what we'd do with our lives, our home, our children, our job(s)... and it didn't include driving to the "Followers of Christ" building in Oregon City and singing songs of joy, hope, peace and love...and not receiving that, or fully comprehending what those even were.

After the tears subsided, I suggested to my husband that he take his boss up on the offer of going into management with his company.

He was celebrating his 7th year with the company, and after about the first couple years, his boss had encouraged him to try to go further. Go into management, starting with an assistant manager position. 

The answer was always, "No, it's not a good fit for my family" or something along those lines, as we had our "family" and our "church" and we couldn't leave that!

Well, once we'd both discovered what we'd be "leaving" management seemed more like a better fit for our family than we'd realized.

What excitement entered our lives when his boss was told we were ready to make that move.  We had no idea the blessings God had in store for us...

The discussion that started it all...

Getting back to the Blog topic, what "started" the "end" of our relationship with most everyone we knew our whole lives...

For several months, I'd noticed the "late night" work ethic my husband had. It was necessarily bad or really late at night, but late enough that he'd get home too late to attend meeting on Thursday nights.  The boys and I was just about to leave, or he'd get home after we were already at church. I'm assuming, with what I know now, he probably didn't want me to throw a fit of why he wasn't going.

Let's fast forward...we've had our two boys, questioning, and being questioned about our actions and beliefs, and now, it's April of 1999. 

I remember coming home from our meeting on Thursday night. We'd went, sat on a bench with other mothers and children that had husbands working or sick, whatever reason, but we sang our 10 songs, as tradition would have it, and let the kids play afterward for a few minutes [although sometimes it was more like 15 or 20]...then, I took the boys back home and was greeted by my husband. He'd got home from work and was awaiting our arrival.

I was trying not to be so angry, and I sat down...and bluntly asked him, "Why do you work so long on Thursday nights?" He smiled.  I continued to ask in search of an answer I really already knew, but was hoping I could convince him otherwise.

"You work so you don't have to go to church." I stated.

"Why do you go to church?" He asked.

Wow.    I had never been asked that before.    I was contemplating...   Was it to receive instruction from the Word of God?   no   Was it to learn biblical principles?   no   Hmmm... I was thinking, "What drives me to go each week, twice a week?" 

I surely didn't like excusing myself from going. It was easier to go, show up, sing, play, and go home. 

OH! I know why I go!

"So my mom doesn't call on Friday or Monday morning to ask if we're sick, or why we didn't go."

Did I just hear myself right?

I go to "church" to keep from having to answer to my mom.

Whoa.

What was I thinking? Is that really the reason? So, now I knew why he didn't like going...feeling like he had to defend his beliefs to people that didn't want to hear what he had to say, and being spoke wrongly about by people he didn't even know. [I had to point some people out, and even explain who people were to him at times.]  Yes, he'd grown up there, but didn't have the people skills that I had apparently.

Then, it dawned on me, who was I supposed to answer to? Who had I been trying to follow? Man? [or in this case, a woman...my mom] or was I trying to Follow Christ? hmm.

I go to "Followers of Christ church" am I following Christ? 

HOW can someone follow Christ? I sure had some praying to do, and some figuring out what God was trying to say to me. 

And Jesus said unto them, Verily I say unto you, That ye which have followed me, in the regeneration when the Son of man shall sit in the throne of his glory, ye also shall sit upon twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel. Matthew 19:28 KJV

If any man serve me, let him follow me; and where I am, there shall also my servant be: if any man serve me, him will my Father honour. John 12:26 KJV

among other verses in the bible, these stick out to me. If I am a follower of Christ, I will serve him, by following him, and in turn, will be rewarded.

proud parent moment(s) & Grace

This past week, I was incredibly blessed with my husband's mother spending time in our home with me and my children. My husband took our oldest son on a college visitation trip during his spring break from Wednesday to Saturday. When they arrived back home, at 1am Sunday morning, we all got some rest for one of the biggest events in our family.

My oldest son, Lucas, earned his Eagle Scout badge from Boy Scouts of America. We celebrated his achievement with his Eagle Court of Honor on Sunday along with some family, his troop members, and some friends from a bit further away. It was such a joyful occasion!

The ceremony was full of smiles, laughter and even a few tears.

Precious time with our friends and family that we'll never forget. After the cake had been eaten, and the soda had been drunk, we packed up all of the stars and scouting memorabilia, and headed home for a sweet visit with an out of town friend and my husband's oldest brother.

It's good to have family around. Family is a vital part of our lives. I have, over the years, adopted family members into my family (figuratively) and been adopted into a few families of my own...the biggest one, being God's family. I am more than happy to share my testimony of God, His son, (Him in the flesh), and the Holy Spirit that dwells in me with anyone who would hear, see, or believe.

This is a joyous time for our family, praying for what lies ahead for our son(s) & daughter, hoping for God's Grace and Mercy to be lavished on them as they grow in the Lord.

Please pray for our family, that we can SEE God's Mercies and Graciousness in our daily lives, sharing them through the fiery trials, temptations and tribulations we face as believers in Christ Jesus. My prayer for you is that if you DON'T know Jesus for who He is, what He did/does for us, that you please open a Bible, read it, pray for your eyes to be opened and your heart to receive God's Grace as he wipes your sins away...or, contact me shumag6@gmail.com

Easter in a new light

Growing up, Easter to me was new dresses, new shoes, maybe a hat, gloves, and a purse...plus dying eggs, bunnies, egg hunts, candy, prizes, being with family and a big potluck.

It wasn't until Easter of 2000 did I understand what Easter meant to many.

Our first church service outside of Oregon City was at a church in Gladstone just before spring to see where we'd like to attend on that special church day. I had to take my children to church on Easter. We left what we grew up with, for hope of finding Jesus Christ.

"He is Risen" was being sung by the choir. Huh...yeah, he isn't dead, I knew that much.

Wow...what a celebration. These people loved Jesus...

Ever since that service, Jesus has been our reason to celebrate this special day.  We celebrate His resurrection and sacrifice He made because of our sin and the salvation He gives freely to those who accept.

We have dyed eggs, we have had egg hunts, but we have not allowed the Easter bunny into our home for over 10 years. We try to bring Jesus into each celebration we have. I give my children chocolate crosses and remind them that Jesus sacrificed himself on the cross, defeated death, rose on the third day, like He promised...and lives...seated at the right hand of Our father in Heaven

This year, we didn't dye eggs nor have we hunted them...but it's not a religious reason...just too busy! It's not important to us as the kids grow. We dressed up (4 of us anyway), with one child sick home with daddy, I took three kids to church, had breakfast with friends and heard a wonderful sermon about Jesus.

For lunch, my daughter and I made resurrection rolls that were hollow inside just like Jesus' tomb.

Enjoy this resurrection day, even if you dye eggs and hunt them...remember Jesus tomb is empty and He is risen!!

We took him to a DOCTOR!?

**This post can also be found on Does Air Exist? A Blog of my sister in law Suzi. I had been writing for her blog, and was led to start my own. suzanneshumaker.blogspot.com


Here we were, raising our two boys, and just weeks into our second son's life, I discovered a bulge in his groin. This was common among Follower families, (at least mine). My nephew had something similar prior to his return home from my parent's house after his birth. My sister, her husband, and their new baby lived at our home for what seemed like months...it maybe wasn't that long. 

From what I remember about my son's experience, I called my mom, she told me to call my sister. My sister came over, and could find nothing wrong. The lump wasn't there. She said to keep an eye on it. Seemed like every time I had to change his diaper, it was there, and whenever I tried to show someone, it wasn't. My sister told me to call another woman in the church that had more experience with this condition. So, I made the phone call. She wasn't able to come over, since her child had chicken pox, but she told me some suggestions.

After describing what this lady told me, with my husband, he suggested taking our son to a doctor. WHAT?  Really? He wanted me to go to a doctor? Whoa...
But his explanation was spot on. He said that instead of calling a bunch of women that don't have knowledge of what this was, to take him to someone that did have knowledge. What was the difference in calling a bunch of different think so ideas than finding the real reason behind it.

We talked about where we'd go from there. If the doctor said he'd need surgery, we'd think about that option, but wouldn't do anything without praying about it first. Let's just find out first.       

I made an appointment at the Health Office in Oregon City. I was nervous, but had been there as a child with my own mother, getting some type of lotion for a rash my sister and I had. Once the appointment had been made, I asked my mom if she'd come with me to take him there, since my husband had to be at work. She turned her nose up at the idea, and said she didn't want to go with me. She did not support us taking our son to the health department, but she took my sister and I? I was confused. What was the difference of a rash we had, or a lump that my son occasionally had?

My mother-in-law and sister-in-law babysat my oldest son while I took the baby to the health department alone. I'm not sure why my mother-in-law didn't come, but it wasn't because she opposed it. My husband's family supported doing the right thing.

While at the doctor’s office, I was asked all kinds of questions about my baby. Who was his doctor, where is his shot record, did he have a PKU test? They made me strip my newborn and put him on a scale. They weren't very loving or friendly about it either. The nurses made a big deal about him having a hernia and he'd have to have surgery. They were kind of mean to me and intimidating because my newborn didn't have a pediatrician. When the friendly, male doctor arrived in the room, he put me at ease with a smile, and examined my baby. "Oh, this is a...." He explained. To this day I can't remember the name he used, but described it as fluid buildup. It was not a hernia like the nurse insisted it was. He did NOT need surgery.

The doctor said he'd seen it lots, and it typically goes away on its own in about a year's time. He said by the time my baby was walking, we would not even notice it. The doctor left, and the nurse stopped me in the hall and asked who delivered my baby. They then attempted to take a PKU test. She ripped his sock off and tried poking his heel.  I was disgruntled, and grabbed the sock back and covered his feet with his blanket as I walked out to the car.

By this time, my son was screaming. We had not gotten off on a very good nursing habit and he was hungry and upset at all of this commotion. I was practically in tears. I tried nursing him in the car, but he would have no part of it. I put him back in his car seat, screaming all the way home. What a nightmare.

But, thankfully, we could rest in the fact that it was not life threatening, he wouldn't sustain any harm from whatever this was, and eventually, it would go away. This could be a long first year...

In our experiences, with sickness and injuries, we anointed with olive oil. So, after sharing with my husband the prognosis of our son's affliction, he told me to anoint him every day and we'll pray that he's healed. So, we did just that. When my husband cared for him, he'd anoint him, when I cared for him, I would anoint him. It didn't seem to bother our baby, but we kept on even when we didn't see the big bulge. Faithfully, every day, we anointed him, praying for healing in Jesus’ name.

It seemed like the right thing to do...pray for someone that was afflicted, injured, or sick. We all met over at my mother's bedside praying for her, as she lay in bed afflicted with the swollen belly. She had been down for what seemed to be a couple of weeks, and our baby was probably a month old or better. While my sisters and I were in her room, visiting, I explained to them we'd like them to pray for our baby. I told them what was the matter, but leaving out the part that I'd "taken him in". My oldest sister rose up out of her chair, and loudly voiced her opinion of no, she would not pray for him, as we'd taken him to a doctor. Her words to my knowledge were, "Oh, you take him to a doctor and THEN want us to PRAY for him?" as she stormed out of my mother's bedroom.
Wow! I sat in awe. I was speechless! How can one say they are a follower of Christ and deny prayer to another humbly asking? My mom just laid there, shocked at her daughter's response.  I can't even remember what happened after that.

I believe our son was about three months old, when we noticed the last few times we had anointed him, we didn't see any bulge.  I'm not sure if it got smaller over time, or what, but he was not nearly one year old when this fluid buildup was gone. Our prayers had been answered, he had been healed. We thanked God for his mercy with our son.

Imagine, God having mercy on someone who went to a doctor. God is good, and we believed that.

Births of our first two...

So let's see about paraphrasing the next several years...we had our first son, at my mom and dad's house, and Suzi was not allowed at the birth. All of my family was there, my husband's mother and several ladies from church saw me through the 13 1/2 hrs of pushing the entire time, our 10 lb. baby into my arms...what a blessing, and I'm thanking Jesus as soon as he's crying, and they're all telling me to be quiet! I still remember the stale smoke smell, that's how I knew my dad was there, and he was congratulating me (at my head of course) Suzanne was allowed to come see her nephew on an evening that my mom had pre-approved where we weren't likely to get visitors. It was church or a wedding, I'm uncertain which. We took a few pictures of them together, but then she had to go. I was cared for over 10 days at my dad and mom's house. My first born was born in the same house I was born in!
Fast forwarding two years and three months later...
Son number two was born at my parents house (new location) as they finally made the move to Oregon City like most of the other congregation we belonged to. Even though my wordly sister in law was not allowed at my first baby's birth, she'd came back to church, so she was technically allowed, but my oldest sister opposed the idea by protesting she couldn't go if Suzanne were there, as per her husband's rule. Come to find out, that was a lie...her husband denied saying she couldn't go when my husband confronted him about it. So...to keep the peace, Suzanne didn't go. I honestly to this day, feel badly about this decision. But, I wasn't a wave maker like my husband had been accused of being.
Suzanne was allowed to come visit, without secretly sneaking her in like we did the last time I gave birth to her nephew.

Our beginning

I didn't think I could do this, but here I go.

It kind of started before we were married. We had conversations about men in church doing things that were not legal. With some research he did, he found documents that gave titles to men that weren't all together true. I was freaking out that he didn't want to get married in the church by one of these men. After much consideration of feelings, he agreed that we didn't have to have a courthouse wedding. There were supporters of going to the courthouse, and I argued against the whole thing. I was very proud of him, for putting up with me.

            We followed the church rules,  we got engaged, went to the bookkeeper's home and set our date. Wow...6 months down the road. That was forever in our days! We were supposed to have a short, maybe 3 mo. engagement, but since everyone wanted to be married that year, (17 year old girls mainly), and we were "older" at the ripe age of 19 and 21 respectively. We just wanted to get married!

            The men and boys of the church had a meeting about whether or not there could be double weddings, so some of us could be married sooner. Several of us couples were agreeing that it would be kind of fun to get married on the same night. My parents had a double wedding, and I was fascinated by looking at their wedding pictures. However, the rule was every two weeks. No one would budge. Partly because the older men thought it would put too much of a financial strain on the families that attended, having to give two gifts every two weeks. I thought that was a stupid reason to base their decision on. So, 6 months it was. We'd wait until September 10, 1993 to walk down the aisle and be husband and wife. It seemed like an eternity in March.

            "Rumors fly when you're in the spotlight." Those were the thoughts of my dad as him and my mom questioned us one evening in my living room about not acting appropriately. Someone had seen us doing something in a parking lot, or somewhere. All they said, was it was outside of the truck...1st off, if we wanted to be "inappropriate", why would we act that way outside of the truck? Really? There were some gossipy women saying things to relatives and then they would in turn go to my mom. Weird, but that's how this place ran...on he said, she said. Horrible to be called a Follower of Christ and this is the behavior that was going on. We put that rumor to rest, as neither of us could think of anything we had done that matched that description. I did teach him to waltz one evening outside of his truck, in a dark parking lot, down by the river.  I'm such a tramp! It was at my mom's request that I make sure he would waltz at our wedding. Therefore, I was doing what she asked! 

            The days got closer, and it was finally time for his bachelor "dinner". The only food to my knowledge was donuts and vegetables. This tradition was typically all the males over 14 in the church, gathering in the "old church" back then, to watch a movie, or slideshow. The men would put money into a big dish or box for the guy getting married.                                              He walked away with a small chunk of bills that wasn't nearly the amount most guys had been getting those days. Guys would tell or talk about how much they got...or maybe it was their moms on the phone that Wednesday morning. Who knows how it got out how much each guy got in his box. Well, it was going to be enough to do something with anyway, and I was thankful he got any at all.

            Him and his best man came up with a slideshow of older pictures from when the church began, old baptisms, and played those for everyone at the bachelor dinner. I wondered if that's why his pot wasn't as much? No one liked people "causing waves" as my mom called it. He was a ripple maker, and I think that freaked her out. There was even one conversation where my mom asked me if he was a wave maker. I just laughed at her and thought, if she only knew! Of course he was! But, I smiled, and said, "What do you mean?" knowing exactly what she didn't want him to be.
 

            None the less, we walked down the aisle, dad tripping on my dress the whole way...but finally, he took my arm and we walked up the 4 or 5 steps to the pulpit to face my cousin. He was the "man" marrying us. Traditionally, after kissing the bride, there was a song. They mixed up our songs. We were supposed to have "Let it be Me" first, THEN "Battle Hymn of Love" but "Battle Hymn of Love" was shorter, so they played that second, as the wedding party waited on the pulpit watching the crowd below. I was ticked off because I planned it that way according to the lyrics of the songs. It was MY wedding! Whatever, I was married, I didn't care about the rest of the night...pictures, dancing, cake, present stroll, and the going away! So, after the song ended, the guy and his bride walk up to the podium and microphone, and "traditionally" thank the man for marrying them, thank everyone that helped, and whatever else needed to be said to make people feel good.  However, as you probably gathered, I didn't marry a "traditional" church boy. I married HIM...the guy I couldn't stand to date...the guys I tried to hide from at parties so he wouldn't dance with me...until my prayers had been answered, and I knew God had shown me the father of my children in HIM.

            He started by thanking everyone that had helped with the wedding that day. He knew what went into this gala of an event...he showed up for some reason at the church that afternoon, and I was told not to go out front because he was there. You know, traditionally, the groom isn't supposed to see the bride before her walk down the aisle...be he saw all the ladies in church that had been working on flowers, pressing dresses, hanging ribbon and what not. That impressed my groom. It's probably why as my mom drove me into the church parking lot that morning, I started bawling uncontrollably...she didn't understand why I was sobbing. They were all there for ME...and HIM...Why? Why would all of these "volunteers" come out and work the whole day, or four hours maybe, on getting MY special day ready?? Well, bless their hearts for it. My wedding was fabulous (ly over the top) in his mind.


 My dad, me, him and my mom Sept. 10, 1993

            So...he expressed he was thankful for everyone's help on the wedding that day, the gifts, for people singing, everyone who came out, but he neglected (on purpose I'm sure) to not mention the mere man that married us. Why should he get glory? He wasn't even supposed to be up there was he? Well, that didn't make very many people very happy. What a rebel! And so, more rumors flew. That was the story of our marriage for the next several months, if not years.

            7 months into our happily ever after, a blessing came upon me. You guessed it, we were starting our family. We'd tried to conceive, hoping for the first try, but it took a couple of months to actually get the positive reading. What were we to do? Our apartment would not hold the both of us AND a baby and all the baby comes with...so, we broke the lease on the one bedroom we were renting, and moved in with his mom and dad...and little sister, who was only 9 months older than me. Oh joy. Her and I could barely get along, now I was going to be in her house.  Well, we'd have to save somehow, and this seemed like the most logical way. Shortly after two months, we'd had enough for a down payment on a single wide mobile home in a park on the outskirts of Maple Lane Road.

            Then, I go to start calling everyone to "tell" that we were expecting. I'd witnessed my friends become mothers, now it was my turn. I was so excited! It was all planned, we'd go to my moms, as tradition would have it, and birth the baby there...given I survived, we'd have a sweet little family just before Christmas time. 

            Oh the hormones, Oh the turmoil that came with being big and pregnant, and the hurt feelings it caused on mine, and other's parts in preparing the "in-laws" for this addition to our family.   When you hear things like, "She said this, and such and such" while you're pregnant it doesn't always sit right with the lady carrying the baby, or maybe it was just me.   So, with a sickened stomach, I made the dreaded call to his brother's wife letting her know that her kids were not the only ones that were going to have them as grandparents. My child, and hopefully children someday, were going to have just as much right to them as her kids did, and there wasn't anything she could do about it. It was the first time I felt like I stood up to her, and it felt good.

            During heat of summertime, in our tin can of a home, I sat whining to my husband about how hot it was and how much of a heater I was carrying around in my abdomen. He said to go to Sears and buy an air conditioner and he'd install it after he got off work. I love him.  The emotions built and built as the pregnancy went on. I remember sobbing to my husband recollecting the incident that happened at my nephew's school. I had been standing next to my mother, who looked just as pregnant and I did at 7 months. Whatever the reason for it, she had a huge swollen belly most of my married life. For all I knew, it was some kind of a tumor. But, to elementary kids at the school, we were both having a baby!  "No," my mother corrected, "I'm just fat." That was her comment to everyone that asked, "No, I'm not pregnant." she say, as she climbed on the back of my dad's Harley Davidson. It was embarrassing, but also sickening that I had to watch the persecution she faced for not going to doctors our whole life,

            But wait...let's throw a "worldly" wedding into the mix! Why not? There wasn't enough controversy already surrounding this family...me, being 5 mo. pregnant, cried as I was told my sister in law that was 9 months older than me ran off and married a "worldly guy" she met at work. How could she do this to our family? My baby will never see her. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. No! We loved her. We wanted the best for her. She was a pest. She had a brain, that's what threatened people. This man found her, she found him. Where is the sin? Why was she blackballed? Why couldn't my baby see her, know her, or her husband? Oh, because he wasn't born in the church like us righteous ones. That was the difference. I don't believe this man lived much differently than some of the attendees of the FOC.  That's beside the point that Suzanne would not be allowed at my baby's birth...she was married, which was a requirement mostly, so she COULD attend, BUT she was now worldly. This was a big contentious problem with my mom and sisters. And it kept being a problem for years down the road.