Provocations

By pbobby

The Sacred, Part III*

A pbobby Provocation
November15, 2001

The list of what is Sacred to someone, some culture, some nation, some group with a singular cause, some religion, or some political party, would take more than many lifetimes to construct. In my first article of The Sacred, Part I, the central sacred entity is All of Life. In The Sacred, Part II, paradoxically the Sacred entity/activity/ was Hate.

God's Love is that Sacred power that can grasp our souls, nurture and guide us through the maze of life's mysteries and challenges. God's love lifts us out of depression, renews our spirits when our grief could overwhelm us, and transforms us into loving spirits. For a more poetic and complete description of Love, read I Corinthians, Chapter 13 in the New Testament.

In our human minds, another definition adds clarity for me. It is to remember that Love is the antithesis of Hate. These two seem to be to live next door to each other. Both pack a powerful punch along with their allies. Love's ally is trust. The trust from Love's power leads to hope, joy, freedom and peace. Hate's ally is fear. The fear from Hate's power deceitfully creates distrust, theft, murder, war and genocide.

I will not attempt to discern which came first, even though I lean toward Love as the earlier of the two entities simply because (1) I believe that In the beginning was God; and (2) God is Love. For me, Love is axiomatic. All acts, attitudes and beliefs must pass the tests of Love or become unworthy of belief or practice.

All the dictionaries I have checked identify love and hate primarily as nouns. From my perspective, they both are verbs. They are what we do to ourselves and to each other from time to time.

It seems that it is possible for love to become hate in the blink of an eye, if the relationship is basically a sick, co-dependent one. Marriages rooted in true love by two proactive partners, are not so easily shattered by acts of thoughtlessness or disrespect.

I recall a couple of experiences that have taught me that the only way to escape hate is through forgiveness. A delicate situation had developed in my marriage for which I held in my mind to be my Angi's indifference and loss of concern for the harmony of our relationship. For weeks I had been captive to these negative feelings that were nearing anger. Somehow I garnered the courage to confront her head-on to demand immediate reparations. I told her that we had to talk about our marriage in the worst way. She sat down and gave me her full attention. To this day, it is a mystery from whence came the words I spoke.

I said, "Angi, I want you to forgive me for harboring feelings of very ill will against you for so long." A gift of freedom had come to me so inexplicably. It was forgiveness. It is not uncommon for us to hold a grudge when we truly need to ask someone for forgiveness rather than seeking an apology..

The second experience I want to share concerns my high school English teacher, Sarah Marsh. I thought my language skills were somewhat above average, but every report I wrote and every test I took was decorated with a multitude of red marks. It did not take very long for all of us to know that seeing red meant we had the "privilege" of correcting all errors and resubmitting them for another red pen test. In addition to this, we had to bind all graded papers and corrected tests in a notebook for her perusal at any time she wished to see them. Our bound notebooks had to be guarded with our lives since they were to be turned in to Miss Marsh the last week of the semester.

Over the three years that I was subjected to her reign over my life, the number of red marks on my papers decreased significantly. In the last semester of my senior year, some one broke into my locker and stole my notebook. It did not matter that even after she saw the damage to my locker, I had to pay a huge penalty for not completely meeting her requirements. With a 96% average, I received a grade of D for that last six weeks. I was so angry that I carefully altered the "D" into a "B" before taking my report card home to my parents. I never told them what happened, but I know! And what I did was deceitful and hurtful to me and me alone.

I was to harbor those ill feelings for over my six and 1/2 years. I spent my first year of college at Murray State College in Kentucky. That fall of 1952, I married my high school sweetheart, Ann, and transferred to East Texas State University. When I felt God's call to be a minister, like my father, I entered East Texas Baptist College from which I graduated in 1957. Along the way, I had lost one semester to a serious case of typhus. In addition, I missed two semesters due to a lack of funds.

Then one day Dean Smith summoned me to his office. He told me that it was about time for me to work out my degree plan so that I could graduate. He laid before me a marked-up transcript that faintly reminded me of Sarah Marsh. He pointed out that I had enough hours for minors in Math, Science, Psychology, History and Bible. He then whimsically pointed out that I had completed practically every course in English and Literature the college had to offer. Then he looked me straight in the eye and said, "Bob, you have already completed your major in English. You will just have to graduate at the end of this semester."

It was an incredible feeling as I tried to absorb what Dean Smith had revealed to me. Later that day, it dawned upon me that each year I had enrolled in some snap courses to complete my schedule. You guessed it! They were all English courses. The day I heard my degree was complete was the day in which my hate for Sarah Marsh was transformed into thanksgiving and Love. That day I learned more about life than I did through all my formal education. Love isn't always as it appears in our youth. And those who are nice to you do not always love you; and those who treat you with sternness do not always dislike you.

If you have a miniscule affinity for the discernment of love and hate, you have, as most of the American citizens do now, countless volumes of unexamined love-hate stories that you might want to revisit. TV, radio, newspapers and magazines have incessantly given them to us, not only from the beginning of The Attack on America, but ever since we can remember.

Most of the stories are about wars, crimes, disasters and indiscriminate, dastardly acts of terror upon men, women, and children that teach us more about nature of hate. Human life has no value when hate reigns and proliferates. From time to time some of my dirty little secrets come back to haunt me. I consider these intrusive remembrances as Love's call for me to make amends when it seems it would do more good than harm to do so. At times I skip watching the evening news just to keep a happy spirit in charge of my heart.

Finally, I want to share a Love Story with you. I requested my daughter, Jane, to tell me what it was like to rear premature twin girls. Her answer came in the form of an E-mail. Here it is.

Daddy,

As I was trying to write this, I came to the realization that Dave and I just did it. No questions as to why us? Only, thank God they are here with us. Two babies were given to us by God to protect and love and they were truly a part of us. You know as well as I do that God gives parents a built in tenacity to fight for the protection of their children. I would have and still would give my life if it would save them. I guess that's just what parents do. There is no explanation that I can put into words; it just comes from the gut.

I'm not sure exactly how you want this written. But here goes...

The birthday finally came! I gave birth by C-section to my premature 2 lb. twin girls. They were three months early and spent three months in ICU before the Doctors said they were ready to come home. I thought if the hospital was releasing them that they would be like most normal babies.

When they finally sent me home with both babies somewhat intact to nurture and protect, I was excited and couldn't wait to get them home. Little did I know, they were sending me home with babies that still needed constant care, and probably, "professional medical attention."

The moment we were home, it was time to feed them. Meds had to be administered 30 min. prior to feeding to prevent reflux problems. So there we sat crying for a half hour, the girls crying out of hunger and me crying out of helplessness.

Right then I realized that their survival depended on both Dave and I. Thank God for the man I chose to be beside me during this. There couldn't have been a better backbone. Dave was solid, and knowing that, gave me the determination and strength to be the mother I had to be. I moved into the girls' room while Dave took care of our two boys and the household.

The girls were on oxygen, heart monitors and medication for reflux. The only way I felt I could keep my sanity and be there for them was to shut out the outside world. Not wishing I were somewhere else or feeling that I was missing out on anything, I knew my world was right there with me. I love them so dearly and deeply that I was lucky enough to forget the selfish pity most of us feel under severe circumstances. When you see your baby hurting, you'll do most anything to "fix" them.

After feedings, the girls would throw up three-fourths of what they ate. Not being able to keep the food down them, was so hard, when looking into their eyes and knowing how hungry they were. Even after throwing up they seemed to be telling me "please help me keep it down."

I really believe they communicated with me through their eyes. They were and are so precious. Night-time was probably the hardest because after feeding them and putting them back to bed, hopeful that they could keep some of the food down, they would throw up while sleeping. I slept between their cribs so that I could reach them before they could aspirate.

Kait was the healthier of the two while Sarah just seemed to be fading away most of the time. And I was damned if I was going to let that happen!

Between arguing with the insurance company for nursing assistance, doctor appointments, and the daily care of the twins, we just didn't have time to stop and think about anything but helping them grow and get healthy.

Looking at Kait today you would never know that she was a preemie, but Sarah still looks a bit small. Sarah has continued to have some health issues, but we think we have completed all the medical attention she needs to make her whole; she is growing now and gaining weight steadily. The girls and I have a strong emotional tie, and that seems to be the best medicine for all of us. They are growing into beautiful young ladies now, and the past seems so long ago.

Daddy, there is a side of this that I didn't live, but Dave did, and he said he would try to give me that insight when he gets back in town. This is the one thing in my life that I have never written about because it's too emotional to relive. I'm sure that what I've written sounds rather clinical, but I'm not sure I can reach down and pull all of those emotions out of my heart where I keep them buried so deeply.

I love you,
Jane.

Jane speaks to the power of unconditional Love parents can give to their children. How much more power is ours through God's unconditional Love for us?

What a different world we would have today if all children here in America and across the world had parents like Jane and Dave. Being a loving parent is a love that can bless who knows how many generations.

*Initially pbobby planned for Love to be the Sacred of Part II. September 11, 2001, changed the plan.