“Out of the wreck I rise”
Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?
(Romans 8:35).
The Lord does not keep a man immune from trouble; He says—“I will be with him in trouble.” It does not matter what actual troubles in the most extreme form get hold of a man’s life, not one of them can separate him from his relationship to God. We are “more than conquerors in all these things.”
Paul is not talking of imaginary things, but of things that are desperately actual; and he says we are super-victors in the midst of them, not by our ingenuity, or by our courage, or by anything other than the fact that not one of them affects our relationship with the Lord. Rightly or wrongly, we are where we are, exactly in the condition we are in. I am sorry for the Christian who has not something in his circumstances he wishes was not there.
What is there in the world that can separate us from the love of Christ?
“Shall tribulation . . .?” Tribulation is never a noble thing; but let tribulation be what it may—exhausting, galling, fatiguing, it is not able to separate us from the love of God. Never let cares or tribulations separate you from the fact that God loves you.
“Shall anguish . . .?”—can God’s love hold when everything says that His love is a lie, and that there is no such thing as justice?
“Shall famine . . .?”—can we not only believe in the love of God but be more than conquerors, even while we are being starved?
Some extraordinary thing happens to a man who holds on to the love of God when the odds are all against God's character. Logic is silenced in the face of every one of these things. Only one thing can account for it - the love that the Lord has for us.
“Out of the wreck I rise” every time.
Chambers, O. (c1935). My utmost for his highest:
Discovery House Publishers.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
for Mother's Dad - "Before I was a Mom"
Before I was a Mom,
I never tripped over toys
or forgot words to a lullaby.
I didn't worry whether or not
my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunizations.
Before I was a Mom,
I had never been puked on.
Pooped on.
Chewed on.
Peed on..
I had complete control of my mind
and my thoughts.
I slept all night.
Before I was a Mom,
I never held down a screaming child
so doctors could do tests.
Or give shots.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night
watching a baby sleep.
Before I was a Mom,
I never held a sleeping baby just because
I didn't want to put her down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces
when I couldn't stop the hurt..
I never knew that something so small
could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much.
I never knew I would love being a Mom..
Before I was a Mom,
I didn't know the feeling of
having my heart outside my body..
I didn't know how special it could feel
to feed a hungry baby.
I didn't know that bond
between a mother and her child.
I didn't know that something so small
could make me feel so important and happy.
Before I was a Mom,
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night
every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.
I had never known the warmth,
the joy,
the love,
the heartache,
the wonderment
or the satisfaction of being a Mom.
I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much,
before I was a Mom .
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
The One Source for Happiness
(From Meridian Magazine, by Wallace Goddard)
It was always nice to sit with my Dad and talk of the gospel, his favorite topic. From time to time his words come back to me.
"Many decisions are difficult because we are trying to justify a choice beneath our highest standards."
The things he taught become truer and truer, more and more meaningful as the years pass. His wisdom was reaffirmed for me recently. A friend called and asked for my advice. He told me of many years in a loveless marriage. At work he has become friends with a wonderful woman with whom he had beautiful gospel conversations. She was also in a loveless marriage. Recently they had shared their feelings for each other: They discovered that they were both very much attracted to each other. "What should we do?" he asked me. The next day she called me and asked the same question.
From the phone conversations it was clear that both of them were ready to do almost anything to open the way for their relationship. Both had begun to think about ways the Lord might open the way for them. It was also clear that both generally had garden-variety discontents in their marriages. Neither was being destroyed. They were tired of their current marriages.
My initial questions to them may have seemed quite unrelated to their dilemma: "Do you love the Lord Jesus Christ? Do you trust Him completely? Do you know that He will always act in your best interest?" Affirmative answers to these questions are very liberating. Submission to God is the path to happiness.
And whoso knocketh, to him will he open; . . . and save they shall cast . . .away [learning, wisdom and riches], and consider themselves fools before God, and come down in the depths of humility, he will not open unto them. 2 Nephi 9:42
We often walk away from sacred promises for alluring prospects. We turn our backs on yesterday's impressions in order to grasp today's whims. We devalue past joys as we lunge at prospective satisfactions. We reduce covenants to mere options.
The veil obscures our pre-mortal enrollments. In that heavenly setting long ago, many of us may have signed up for advanced courses on long-suffering, gentleness, meekness, and love. When we get to mortality, and the challenging assignments almost overwhelm us, some of us quickly drop classes. Stretching experiences surprise and discourage mortals who have forgotten their long-term education and career goals.
Brigham Young taught us boldly:
There is no enjoyment, no happiness, no comfort, there is no light to my path, for me there is no real pleasure or delight only in the observance of truth as it comes from God, obeying it in every sense of the word, and marching forward as a good faithful soldier in the discharge of every duty. (Journal of Discourses, Vol.19, pp.42-43, emphasis added)
Dishonor does not lead to goodness. Wickedness never was happiness. The only path to enduring peace is obedience. Working at our appointed station doing the pick and shovel work of relationship-building may seem unglamorous and unpromising. But those who are faithful in duty will enjoy eternal rewards that are unimagined--even unimaginable--in our mortal way of thinking. Even as we labor along, God will hum hymns of comfort and joy to our souls. Duty and drudgery will be burnished to a bright finish. There is consolation in growth.
I recommended to both the man and the woman who called that they do everything in their power to make their respective marriages work. After they had done all they can, they still should pray for the Lord to provide miracles to open further ways to bless their marriages. Only as we honor our promises with our best efforts and heaven's help can we expect to find happiness.
When we imagine happiness to be in some exotic place outside our mundane commitments, we will be everlastingly disappointed. When we chase happiness, we will be frustrated. When we obey with full purpose of heart, a peace beyond understanding distills upon us. Brigham Young gives the example of Lyman Johnson who left his covenant obligations for something that seemed more promising.
Lyman E. Johnson said, at one of our Quorum meetings, after he had apostatized and tried to put Joseph out of the way. . . . "Brethren--I will call you brethren--I will tell you the truth. If I could believe `Mormonism'--it is no matter whether it is true or not--but if I could believe `Mormonism' as I did when I traveled with you and preached, if I possessed the world I would give it. I would give anything, I would suffer my right hand to be cut off, if I could believe it again. Then I was full of joy and gladness. My dreams were pleasant. When I awoke in the morning my spirit was cheerful. I was happy by day and by night, full of peace and joy and thanksgiving. But now it is darkness, pain, sorrow, misery in the extreme. I have never since seen a happy moment.." (Journal of Discourses, Vol.19, p.42)
What a keen irony! We often do something because it seems more promising in our current mood--even though it may not be in total harmony with the counsel of God and His servants. We imagine that we know better than they or that unusual circumstances justify our desertion. For example, we resolve to pay tithing after the bills are paid. We determine that food storage is folly. We take on debt with disregard for counsel and conscience. We minimize those parts of the Book of Mormon that do not agree with our advanced educations or humanistic philosophy.
O that cunning plan of the evil one! O the vainness, and the frailties, and the foolishness of men! When they are learned they think they are wise, and they hearken not unto the counsel of God, for they set it aside, supposing they know of themselves, wherefore, their wisdom is foolishness and it profiteth them not. And they shall perish. (2 Nephi 9:28)
As I talked to the woman who called about her relationship with her co-worker, I saw a miracle. She originally called with the desperate sense that she could not be happy without him; when I encouraged her to honor her promises and entrust her happiness to God, she did not resist. She embraced God as the only true source of happiness. She trusted Him.
The miracle grew--as it always does when we trust God. She called the next day to report that she had gone home and apologized to her husband for her coolness and unkindness. They had spent a joyous evening together--something she had never imagined possible. Their marriage is not suddenly idyllic, but there is hope.
And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions. (Mosiah 24:14)
There are, of course, marriages that must end because of abuse or betrayal. Those who need to end a damaging relationship have the right to specific direction from heaven. But Satan would lead millions more than the unavoidable ones out of their sacred promises by prospects of something better, sweeter, or finer. But Satan is a liar. He will "not support his children at the last day, but doth speedily drag them down to hell" (Alma 30:60).
Satan weaves elaborate fantasies to deceive us. He mixes mild discontent in our current relationships together with idealization of a prospective partners. Then he stirs in some hints of divine purpose and inspiration. He is quite able to make preposterous options look wise and inspired. There is always, however, some voice in us that protests: "Please don't do this. Please don't dishonor your promises. Please don't give in to the father of lies."
There is only one Source of enduring happiness. When we act contrary to promises, covenants, counsel, and impressions, we are acting contrary to the nature of happiness.
For ye have sought all the days of your lives for that which ye could not obtain; and ye have sought for happiness in doing iniquity, which thing is contrary to the nature of that righteousness which is in our great and Eternal Head. (Helaman 13:38)
As Dad taught, when we make up our minds to be obedient to the counsel of heaven, we will find peace, joy, consolation. We will be happy. Forever. God knows the path to Happiness. He will lead us there if we obey Him.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
H. Wallace Goddard is a son, a husband, a dad, and a grandpa. He works as a Family Life Specialist for the University of Arkansas Extension Service in Little Rock and has written several books and programs including The Frightful and Joyous Journey of Family Life (Bookcraft) and Principles of Parenting (Alabama Cooperative Extension System). He claims to be living proof that a person who makes lots of mistakes can still be blessed with joy beyond any deserving.
Click here to sign up for Meridian's FREE email updates.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was always nice to sit with my Dad and talk of the gospel, his favorite topic. From time to time his words come back to me.
"Many decisions are difficult because we are trying to justify a choice beneath our highest standards."
The things he taught become truer and truer, more and more meaningful as the years pass. His wisdom was reaffirmed for me recently. A friend called and asked for my advice. He told me of many years in a loveless marriage. At work he has become friends with a wonderful woman with whom he had beautiful gospel conversations. She was also in a loveless marriage. Recently they had shared their feelings for each other: They discovered that they were both very much attracted to each other. "What should we do?" he asked me. The next day she called me and asked the same question.
From the phone conversations it was clear that both of them were ready to do almost anything to open the way for their relationship. Both had begun to think about ways the Lord might open the way for them. It was also clear that both generally had garden-variety discontents in their marriages. Neither was being destroyed. They were tired of their current marriages.
My initial questions to them may have seemed quite unrelated to their dilemma: "Do you love the Lord Jesus Christ? Do you trust Him completely? Do you know that He will always act in your best interest?" Affirmative answers to these questions are very liberating. Submission to God is the path to happiness.
And whoso knocketh, to him will he open; . . . and save they shall cast . . .away [learning, wisdom and riches], and consider themselves fools before God, and come down in the depths of humility, he will not open unto them. 2 Nephi 9:42
We often walk away from sacred promises for alluring prospects. We turn our backs on yesterday's impressions in order to grasp today's whims. We devalue past joys as we lunge at prospective satisfactions. We reduce covenants to mere options.
The veil obscures our pre-mortal enrollments. In that heavenly setting long ago, many of us may have signed up for advanced courses on long-suffering, gentleness, meekness, and love. When we get to mortality, and the challenging assignments almost overwhelm us, some of us quickly drop classes. Stretching experiences surprise and discourage mortals who have forgotten their long-term education and career goals.
Brigham Young taught us boldly:
There is no enjoyment, no happiness, no comfort, there is no light to my path, for me there is no real pleasure or delight only in the observance of truth as it comes from God, obeying it in every sense of the word, and marching forward as a good faithful soldier in the discharge of every duty. (Journal of Discourses, Vol.19, pp.42-43, emphasis added)
Dishonor does not lead to goodness. Wickedness never was happiness. The only path to enduring peace is obedience. Working at our appointed station doing the pick and shovel work of relationship-building may seem unglamorous and unpromising. But those who are faithful in duty will enjoy eternal rewards that are unimagined--even unimaginable--in our mortal way of thinking. Even as we labor along, God will hum hymns of comfort and joy to our souls. Duty and drudgery will be burnished to a bright finish. There is consolation in growth.
I recommended to both the man and the woman who called that they do everything in their power to make their respective marriages work. After they had done all they can, they still should pray for the Lord to provide miracles to open further ways to bless their marriages. Only as we honor our promises with our best efforts and heaven's help can we expect to find happiness.
When we imagine happiness to be in some exotic place outside our mundane commitments, we will be everlastingly disappointed. When we chase happiness, we will be frustrated. When we obey with full purpose of heart, a peace beyond understanding distills upon us. Brigham Young gives the example of Lyman Johnson who left his covenant obligations for something that seemed more promising.
Lyman E. Johnson said, at one of our Quorum meetings, after he had apostatized and tried to put Joseph out of the way. . . . "Brethren--I will call you brethren--I will tell you the truth. If I could believe `Mormonism'--it is no matter whether it is true or not--but if I could believe `Mormonism' as I did when I traveled with you and preached, if I possessed the world I would give it. I would give anything, I would suffer my right hand to be cut off, if I could believe it again. Then I was full of joy and gladness. My dreams were pleasant. When I awoke in the morning my spirit was cheerful. I was happy by day and by night, full of peace and joy and thanksgiving. But now it is darkness, pain, sorrow, misery in the extreme. I have never since seen a happy moment.." (Journal of Discourses, Vol.19, p.42)
What a keen irony! We often do something because it seems more promising in our current mood--even though it may not be in total harmony with the counsel of God and His servants. We imagine that we know better than they or that unusual circumstances justify our desertion. For example, we resolve to pay tithing after the bills are paid. We determine that food storage is folly. We take on debt with disregard for counsel and conscience. We minimize those parts of the Book of Mormon that do not agree with our advanced educations or humanistic philosophy.
O that cunning plan of the evil one! O the vainness, and the frailties, and the foolishness of men! When they are learned they think they are wise, and they hearken not unto the counsel of God, for they set it aside, supposing they know of themselves, wherefore, their wisdom is foolishness and it profiteth them not. And they shall perish. (2 Nephi 9:28)
As I talked to the woman who called about her relationship with her co-worker, I saw a miracle. She originally called with the desperate sense that she could not be happy without him; when I encouraged her to honor her promises and entrust her happiness to God, she did not resist. She embraced God as the only true source of happiness. She trusted Him.
The miracle grew--as it always does when we trust God. She called the next day to report that she had gone home and apologized to her husband for her coolness and unkindness. They had spent a joyous evening together--something she had never imagined possible. Their marriage is not suddenly idyllic, but there is hope.
And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions. (Mosiah 24:14)
There are, of course, marriages that must end because of abuse or betrayal. Those who need to end a damaging relationship have the right to specific direction from heaven. But Satan would lead millions more than the unavoidable ones out of their sacred promises by prospects of something better, sweeter, or finer. But Satan is a liar. He will "not support his children at the last day, but doth speedily drag them down to hell" (Alma 30:60).
Satan weaves elaborate fantasies to deceive us. He mixes mild discontent in our current relationships together with idealization of a prospective partners. Then he stirs in some hints of divine purpose and inspiration. He is quite able to make preposterous options look wise and inspired. There is always, however, some voice in us that protests: "Please don't do this. Please don't dishonor your promises. Please don't give in to the father of lies."
There is only one Source of enduring happiness. When we act contrary to promises, covenants, counsel, and impressions, we are acting contrary to the nature of happiness.
For ye have sought all the days of your lives for that which ye could not obtain; and ye have sought for happiness in doing iniquity, which thing is contrary to the nature of that righteousness which is in our great and Eternal Head. (Helaman 13:38)
As Dad taught, when we make up our minds to be obedient to the counsel of heaven, we will find peace, joy, consolation. We will be happy. Forever. God knows the path to Happiness. He will lead us there if we obey Him.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
H. Wallace Goddard is a son, a husband, a dad, and a grandpa. He works as a Family Life Specialist for the University of Arkansas Extension Service in Little Rock and has written several books and programs including The Frightful and Joyous Journey of Family Life (Bookcraft) and Principles of Parenting (Alabama Cooperative Extension System). He claims to be living proof that a person who makes lots of mistakes can still be blessed with joy beyond any deserving.
Click here to sign up for Meridian's FREE email updates.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Biographical Sketch of Loyal Dee Hastings-April 2009
This is the presentation that my sister Deena gave at our father's funeral service in Mapleton, Utah, this past Tuesday.
I have been asked to give a biographical sketch of my Dad. As you can imagine, trying to summarize his life in just a few minutes is quite a challenge. So I will try to highlight the significant accomplishments in his life.
Loyal Dee Hastings was born on October 28, 1932 in Norman, Oklahoma to Joel Henry Hastings and Alvaretta Marie Haynes.
He was the youngest of six children with two older sisters and three older brothers.
His early years were spent in Norman, where his family operated a laundry service out of their home and took in occasional boarders.
Dad was raised during the great depression and the lessons of thrift and industry that characterized his life began there.
Dad's uncle Monroe Hastings was introduced to the gospel in Pietown, New Mexico by Mormon Missionaries from across the border in Springerville and Eagar, Arizona. He convinced his brother, Joel, my grandfather to leave the dustbowl of the depression laden Oklahoma. He sold everything they had in Normon and subsequently moved to a small farm in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
Joel and Alvaretta and their younger children listened to the missionaries and were baptized members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
In High School, Dad was the lead in several musical theater productions and was known for his glorious singing voice and larger than life personality.
Upon completion of High School, he went to Provo, Utah to attend BYU. While there he was president of the Tausig social unit and participated in the Air Force ROTC program.
Work and self sufficiency were always important to Dad. He painted houses, mowed lawns, and worked as a soda jerk at B&H pharmacy in downtown Provo to work his way through college.
Dad was anything but shy and late one winter night after losing a bet to his room mates he went to pick up ice cream at the Malt Shop. Dressed in a coat and boots pulled over his pajamas he walked into the shop and met the love of his life, Janice Mendenhall, a petite black haired beauty from Mapleton Utah.
For Dad it was love at first sight. He actively pursued Mom and would call down to her from his bedroom window at Mrs. Baird’s boarding house and walk to school with
her.
After a year long courtship they were married and sealed for time and all eternity in the Manti Utah temple on June 18, 1953.
He graduated from BYU with a degree in political science finishing near the top of his class and was commissioned as a 2nd lieutenant in the USAF.
Their first son, Danny was born while they were at BYU.
Flying was one of Dad’s passions. His distinguished 22 year military career as a fighter pilot was the highpoint of his life. Patriotism and loyalty to his country were a key part of his character.
He was a highly decorated officer and quickly rose though the ranks in his chosen profession.
As their family grew, they began the tradition of naming their children beginning with the letter “D.”
“D” number 2, Diane was born while they were stationed at Bartow Florida for basic pilot training.
As basic training contiued at Williams AFB in Arizona, “D” number 3, Debby joined the family.
“D"s 4 and 5, David and Douglas were born during the time they lived in Clovis New Mexico where the family was stationed at Cannon AFB. There he flew the F100 fighter.
During their time at Cannon, he was selected as an air training officer and had an assignment to go to the newly created Air Force academy at Colorado Springs.
Upon his return to New Mexico, he received a new assignment sending them overseas to RAF Bentwaters in England, where they lived for three years.
Upon returning stateside they settled once again in Utah where Dad taught in the AF ROTC program at BYU and obtained his Masters Degree in Public Administration.
Then came “D” number 6, Deena.
Dad’s next assignment took them to Davis- Monthan AFB in Tucson Arizona, where Dad served as a flight instructor, for pilots training to fly the F4 Phantom jet.
He willingly served a year in Vietnam at Cam Rahn Bay. This was a time of great personal and spiritual growth for Dad. He was called to served as the LDS serviceman's group leader, which provided Sunday services and spiritual support for servicemen in that area. They had several conversions. ONe of the men who attended Dad's funeral service was a man athat Dad baptized 40 years ago in the South China Sea.
After he tour of duty in Vietnam, the family left Tucson, but stayed in Arizona and moved to our current home in Glendale where “ D” number 7, Dawna was born.
The early 1970’s brought change once again as the family was stationed for 3 ½ years in Japan.
This was a time of great professional and church responsibilities for Dad. He was called to serve as the LDS serviceman's District president when the Tokyo Temple was announced.
In 1976 the family returned home to the states and spent 6 months at Hill AFB in Ogden Utah where Dad retired from his military service.
When they returned to Glendale our 8th “D” Deanna or Annie was born and our family was complete.
Post retirement he continued to work hard including being managing partner of a Lube and Oil change business, and as a project manager for the painting contractor at the SRP pumping stations. He also taught business classes at Glendale Community College.
After the children were grown, he retired and in 1999, Dad and Mom realized a lifelong goal to serve a mission with his sweetheart to the Washington D.C Temple.
Dad loved to visit temples and perform temple ordinances. It was his goal to perform ordinances in all the temples in the continental United States and Canada, a goal he and Mom accomplished.
Service to others was a way of life for him. Although he served in many capacities over the years, one of the most important to him was being a Home Teacher. There was no service too small or inconvenient for Dad.
His gospel knowledge was broad and extensive and his love of the gospel and the scriptures, total and complete. But most of all, Dad loved the Lord.
As the family grew, so did his love for our mother. Dad loved and enjoyed his 36 grandchildren and 18 great grandchildren. They were the joy of his life and he spent countless hours in service to them and in fun with them.
Dad passed away unexpectedly April 21, 2009.
Our hearts are broken and we will miss him, but we stand united as his children and loved ones, to the gospel and values he taught us and to his legacy of lov
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Poverty
One day, the father of a very wealthy family took his son
on a trip to the country with the express purpose of
showing him how poor people live.
They spent a couple of days and nights on the farm
of what would be considered a very poor family.
On their return from their trip, the father asked his son,
'How was the trip?'
'It was great, Dad.'
'Did you see how poor people live?' the father asked.
'Oh yeah,' said the son.
'So, tell me, what did you learn from the trip?' asked the father.
The son answered:
'I saw that we have one dog and they had four.
We have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden
and they have a creek that has no end.
We have imported lanterns in our garden
and they have the stars at night.
Our patio reaches to the front yard
and they have the whole horizon..
We have a small piece of land to live on
and they have fields that go beyond our sight.
We have servants who serve us, but they serve others.
We buy our food, but they grow theirs.
We have walls around our property to protect us,
they have friends to protect them.'
The boy's father was speechless.
Then his son added,
'Thanks Dad for showing me how poor we are.'
Isn't perspective a wonderful thing?
Makes you wonder what would happen if we all gave thanks
for everything we have,
instead of worrying about what we don't have.
Appreciate every single thing you have, especially your friends!
Monday, April 6, 2009
Anchored by Faith
1839 some members of the Quorum of the Twelve left for missions in England under very trying circumstances:" 'Wilford Woodruff and John Taylor were the first to start out. Wilford, in Montrose, had been suffering for days from chills and fever. His infant daughter, Sarah Emma, also seriously ill, was being cared for by friends with more suitable accommodations. On August 8 he finally bade [his wife] Phoebe a tender farewell and walked to the banks of the Mississippi. Brigham Young paddled him across the river in a canoe. When Joseph Smith found him resting by the post office, Wilford told the Prophet that he felt and looked more like a subject for the dissecting room than a missionary. . . .
" 'It took Elders Woodruff and Taylor, traveling together, the rest of the month to make it as far as Germantown, Indiana. . . .
" 'By the time they arrived in Germantown John Taylor was so desperately ill that it was impossible for him to continue. . . .
" '[He] remained ill, sometimes near death, for about three weeks. His optimism was tenacious, however, as suggested in a tender letter to [his wife] Leonora, dated September 19 [1839]:" ' "You may ask me how I am going to prosecute my journey. . . .
I do not know but one thing, I do know, that there is a being who clothes the lilies of the valley & feeds the ravens & he has given me to understand that all these things shall be added & that is all I want to know. He laid me on a bed of sickness & I was satisfied, he has raised me from it again & I am thankful. He stopped me on my road & I am content. . . .
If he took me I felt that it would be well. He has spared me, & it is better" '
(James
Saturday, April 4, 2009
The Love Letter
Stephina Roos.
Indeed, as children we were all frankly terrified of her. The fact that she did not live with the family, preferring her tiny cottage out in the South African countryside, and her solitude to the comfortable but rather noisy household where we were brought up-added to the respectful fear in which she was held.
We used to take it in turn to carry small delicacies which my mother had made down from the big house out to the little cottage where Aunt Stephina and an old maid spent their days. Old Tnate Sanna would open the door to the rather frightened little messenger and would usher him - or her - into the dark voor-kamer, where the shutters were always closed to keep out the heat and the flies. There we would wait, in trembling but not altogether unpleasant anticipation.
She was a tiny little woman to inspire so much veneration. She was always dressed in black, and her dark clothes melted into the shadows of the voor-kamer and made her look smaller than ever. But you felt, the moment she entered, that something vital and strong and somehow indestructible had come in with her, although she moved slowly, and her voice was sweet and soft.
She never embraced us. She would greet us and take our hot little hands in her own beautiful cool ones, with blue veins standing out on the back of them, as though the white skin were almost too delicate to contain them.
Tnate Sanna would bring in dishes of sweet, sweet, sticky candy, or a great bowl of grapes or peaches, and Great-aunt Stephina would converse gravely about happenings on the farm, and, more rarely, of the outer world.
When we had finished our sweetmeats or fruit she would accompany us to the stoep, bidding us thank our mother for her gift and sending quaint, old-fashioned messages to her and to Father. Then she would turn and enter the house, closing the door behind her, so that it became once more a place of mystery.
As I grew older I found, rather to my surprise, that I had become genuinely fond of my aloof old great-aunt. But to this day I do not know what strange impulse made me take George to see her and to tell her, before I had confided in another living soul, of our engagement. To my astonishment, she was delighted.
“An Englishman,” she exclaimed.” But that is splendid, splendid. And you,” she turned to George,” you are making your home in this country? You do not intend to return to England just yet?”
She seemed relieved when she heard that George had bought a farm quite near our own farm and intended to settle in South Africa . She became quite animated, and chattered away to him.
After that I would often slip away to the little cottage by the mealie lands. Once she was somewhat disappointed on hearing that we had decided to wait for two years before getting married, but when she learned that my father and mother were both pleased with the match she seemed reassured.
Still, she often appeared anxious about my love affair, and would ask questions that seemed to me strange, almost as though she feared that something would happen to destroy my romance. But I was quite unprepared for her outburst when I mentioned that George thought of paying a lightning visit to England before we were married. “He must not do it,” she cried.” Ina, you must not let him go. Promise me you will prevent him.” She was trembling all over. I did what I could to console her, but she looked so tired and pale that I persuaded her to go to her room and rest, promising to return the next day.
When I arrived I found her sitting on the stoep. She looked lonely and pathetic, and for the first time I wondered why no man had ever taken her and looked after her and loved her. Mother had told me that Great-aunt Stephina had been lovely as a young girl. Few traces of that beauty remained, except perhaps in her brown eyes; yet she looked so small and appealing that any man, one felt, would have wanted to protect her.
She looked up, and then paused, as though she did not quite know how to begin.
Then she seemed to give herself, mentally, a little shake. “You must have wondered “, she said, “Why I was so upset at the thought of young George’s going to England without you. I am an old woman, and perhaps I have the silly fancies of the old, but I should like to tell you my own love story, and then you can decide whether it is wise for your man to leave you before you are married.”
“I was quite a young girl when I first met Richard Weston. He was an Englishman who boarded with the Van Rensburgs on the next farm, four or five miles from us. Richard was not strong. He had a weak chest, and the doctors in England had sent him to South Africa so that the dry air could cure him. He taught the Van Rensburg children, who were younger than I was, though we often played together as well. I saw that he carried out their instruction for pleasure and not because he needed money. Our friendship ripened into more, as time passed, though we did not speak of our love until the evening of my eighteenth birthday. All our friends and relatives had come to my party, and in the evening we danced on the big old carpet which we had laid down in the barn. Richard had come with the Van Rensburgs, and we danced together as often as we dared, which was not very often, for my father hated the Uitlanders. Indeed, for a time he had quarreled with Mynheer Van Rensburg for allowing Richard to board with him, but afterwards he got used to the idea, and was always polite to the Englishman, though he never liked him.
“That was the happiest birthday of my life, for while we were resting between dances Richard took me outside into the cool, moonlit night, and there, under the stars, he told me he loved me and asked me to marry him. Of course I promised I would, for I was too happy to think of what my parents would say, or indeed of anything else.
A fortnight later, Richard was not at our meeting place as he had arranged. I was disappointed but not alarmed, for there were many things could happen to either of us to prevent our keeping our tryst. I thought that next time we visited the Van Rensburgs, I should hear what had kept him and we could plan further meetings…
“So when my father asked if I would drive with him to Driefontein I was delighted. But when we reached the homestead and were sitting on the stoep drinking our coffee, we heard that Richard had left quite suddenly and had gone back to England . His father had died, leaving Richard as the heir and requiring him to go back to look after his estates.
“I do not remember very much more about that day, except that the sun seemed to have stopped shining and the country no longer looked beautiful and full of promise, but bleak and desolate as it sometimes does in winter or in times of drought.
Late that afternoon, Jantje, the little Hottentot herd boy, came up to me and handed me a letter, which he said the English baas had left for me. It was the only love letter I ever received, but it turned all my bitterness and grief into a peacefulness which was the nearest I could get, then, to happiness. I knew Richard still loved me, and somehow, as long as I had his letter, I felt that we could never be really parted, even if he were in England and I had to remain on the farm. I have it yet, and though I am an old, tired woman, it still gives me hope and courage.”
“I must have been a wonderful letter, Aunt Stephina,” I said. The old lady came back from her dreams of that far-off romance. “Perhaps,” she said, hesitating a little, “perhaps, my dear, you would care to read it?” “I should love to, Aunt Stephina,” I said gently.
She rose at once and tripped into the house as eagerly as a young girl. When she came back she handed me a letter, faded and yellow with age, the edges of the envelope worn and frayed as though it had been much handled. But when I came to open it I found that the seal was unbroken. “Open it, open it,” said Great-aunt Stephina, and her voice was shaking. I broke the seal and read to myself.
It was not a love letter in the true sense of the word, but pages of the minutest directions of how “my sweetest Phina” was to elude her father’s vigilance, creep down to the drift at night and there meet Jantje with a horse which would take her to Smitsdorp. There she was to go to “my true friend, Henry Wilson”, who would give her money and make arrangements for her to follow her lover to Cape Town and from there to England , where, my love, we can he be married at once. But if, my dearest, you are not sure that you can face life with me in a land strange to you, then do not take this important step, for I love you too much to wish you the smallest unhappiness. If you do not come, and if I do not hear from you, then I shall know that you could never be happy so far from the people and the country which you love. If, however, you feel you can keep your promise to me, but are too timid and modest to journey to England unaccompanied, and then write to me, and I will, by some means, return to fetch my bride.”
I read no further. “But Aunt Phina!” I gasped. “Why…why…?”
The old lady was watching me with trembling eagerness, her face flushed and her eyes bright with expectation. “Read it aloud, my dear,” she said. “I want to hear every word of it. There was never anyone I could trust…Uitlanders were hated in my young days…I could not ask anyone.”
“But, Auntie, don’t you even know what he wrote?”
The old lady looked down, troubled and shy like a child who has unwittingly done wrong. “No, dear,” she said, speaking very low. “You see, I never learned to read.”
Indeed, as children we were all frankly terrified of her. The fact that she did not live with the family, preferring her tiny cottage out in the South African countryside, and her solitude to the comfortable but rather noisy household where we were brought up-added to the respectful fear in which she was held.
We used to take it in turn to carry small delicacies which my mother had made down from the big house out to the little cottage where Aunt Stephina and an old maid spent their days. Old Tnate Sanna would open the door to the rather frightened little messenger and would usher him - or her - into the dark voor-kamer, where the shutters were always closed to keep out the heat and the flies. There we would wait, in trembling but not altogether unpleasant anticipation.
She was a tiny little woman to inspire so much veneration. She was always dressed in black, and her dark clothes melted into the shadows of the voor-kamer and made her look smaller than ever. But you felt, the moment she entered, that something vital and strong and somehow indestructible had come in with her, although she moved slowly, and her voice was sweet and soft.
She never embraced us. She would greet us and take our hot little hands in her own beautiful cool ones, with blue veins standing out on the back of them, as though the white skin were almost too delicate to contain them.
Tnate Sanna would bring in dishes of sweet, sweet, sticky candy, or a great bowl of grapes or peaches, and Great-aunt Stephina would converse gravely about happenings on the farm, and, more rarely, of the outer world.
When we had finished our sweetmeats or fruit she would accompany us to the stoep, bidding us thank our mother for her gift and sending quaint, old-fashioned messages to her and to Father. Then she would turn and enter the house, closing the door behind her, so that it became once more a place of mystery.
As I grew older I found, rather to my surprise, that I had become genuinely fond of my aloof old great-aunt. But to this day I do not know what strange impulse made me take George to see her and to tell her, before I had confided in another living soul, of our engagement. To my astonishment, she was delighted.
“An Englishman,” she exclaimed.” But that is splendid, splendid. And you,” she turned to George,” you are making your home in this country? You do not intend to return to England just yet?”
She seemed relieved when she heard that George had bought a farm quite near our own farm and intended to settle in South Africa . She became quite animated, and chattered away to him.
After that I would often slip away to the little cottage by the mealie lands. Once she was somewhat disappointed on hearing that we had decided to wait for two years before getting married, but when she learned that my father and mother were both pleased with the match she seemed reassured.
Still, she often appeared anxious about my love affair, and would ask questions that seemed to me strange, almost as though she feared that something would happen to destroy my romance. But I was quite unprepared for her outburst when I mentioned that George thought of paying a lightning visit to England before we were married. “He must not do it,” she cried.” Ina, you must not let him go. Promise me you will prevent him.” She was trembling all over. I did what I could to console her, but she looked so tired and pale that I persuaded her to go to her room and rest, promising to return the next day.
When I arrived I found her sitting on the stoep. She looked lonely and pathetic, and for the first time I wondered why no man had ever taken her and looked after her and loved her. Mother had told me that Great-aunt Stephina had been lovely as a young girl. Few traces of that beauty remained, except perhaps in her brown eyes; yet she looked so small and appealing that any man, one felt, would have wanted to protect her.
She looked up, and then paused, as though she did not quite know how to begin.
Then she seemed to give herself, mentally, a little shake. “You must have wondered “, she said, “Why I was so upset at the thought of young George’s going to England without you. I am an old woman, and perhaps I have the silly fancies of the old, but I should like to tell you my own love story, and then you can decide whether it is wise for your man to leave you before you are married.”
“I was quite a young girl when I first met Richard Weston. He was an Englishman who boarded with the Van Rensburgs on the next farm, four or five miles from us. Richard was not strong. He had a weak chest, and the doctors in England had sent him to South Africa so that the dry air could cure him. He taught the Van Rensburg children, who were younger than I was, though we often played together as well. I saw that he carried out their instruction for pleasure and not because he needed money. Our friendship ripened into more, as time passed, though we did not speak of our love until the evening of my eighteenth birthday. All our friends and relatives had come to my party, and in the evening we danced on the big old carpet which we had laid down in the barn. Richard had come with the Van Rensburgs, and we danced together as often as we dared, which was not very often, for my father hated the Uitlanders. Indeed, for a time he had quarreled with Mynheer Van Rensburg for allowing Richard to board with him, but afterwards he got used to the idea, and was always polite to the Englishman, though he never liked him.
“That was the happiest birthday of my life, for while we were resting between dances Richard took me outside into the cool, moonlit night, and there, under the stars, he told me he loved me and asked me to marry him. Of course I promised I would, for I was too happy to think of what my parents would say, or indeed of anything else.
A fortnight later, Richard was not at our meeting place as he had arranged. I was disappointed but not alarmed, for there were many things could happen to either of us to prevent our keeping our tryst. I thought that next time we visited the Van Rensburgs, I should hear what had kept him and we could plan further meetings…
“So when my father asked if I would drive with him to Driefontein I was delighted. But when we reached the homestead and were sitting on the stoep drinking our coffee, we heard that Richard had left quite suddenly and had gone back to England . His father had died, leaving Richard as the heir and requiring him to go back to look after his estates.
“I do not remember very much more about that day, except that the sun seemed to have stopped shining and the country no longer looked beautiful and full of promise, but bleak and desolate as it sometimes does in winter or in times of drought.
Late that afternoon, Jantje, the little Hottentot herd boy, came up to me and handed me a letter, which he said the English baas had left for me. It was the only love letter I ever received, but it turned all my bitterness and grief into a peacefulness which was the nearest I could get, then, to happiness. I knew Richard still loved me, and somehow, as long as I had his letter, I felt that we could never be really parted, even if he were in England and I had to remain on the farm. I have it yet, and though I am an old, tired woman, it still gives me hope and courage.”
“I must have been a wonderful letter, Aunt Stephina,” I said. The old lady came back from her dreams of that far-off romance. “Perhaps,” she said, hesitating a little, “perhaps, my dear, you would care to read it?” “I should love to, Aunt Stephina,” I said gently.
She rose at once and tripped into the house as eagerly as a young girl. When she came back she handed me a letter, faded and yellow with age, the edges of the envelope worn and frayed as though it had been much handled. But when I came to open it I found that the seal was unbroken. “Open it, open it,” said Great-aunt Stephina, and her voice was shaking. I broke the seal and read to myself.
It was not a love letter in the true sense of the word, but pages of the minutest directions of how “my sweetest Phina” was to elude her father’s vigilance, creep down to the drift at night and there meet Jantje with a horse which would take her to Smitsdorp. There she was to go to “my true friend, Henry Wilson”, who would give her money and make arrangements for her to follow her lover to Cape Town and from there to England , where, my love, we can he be married at once. But if, my dearest, you are not sure that you can face life with me in a land strange to you, then do not take this important step, for I love you too much to wish you the smallest unhappiness. If you do not come, and if I do not hear from you, then I shall know that you could never be happy so far from the people and the country which you love. If, however, you feel you can keep your promise to me, but are too timid and modest to journey to England unaccompanied, and then write to me, and I will, by some means, return to fetch my bride.”
I read no further. “But Aunt Phina!” I gasped. “Why…why…?”
The old lady was watching me with trembling eagerness, her face flushed and her eyes bright with expectation. “Read it aloud, my dear,” she said. “I want to hear every word of it. There was never anyone I could trust…Uitlanders were hated in my young days…I could not ask anyone.”
“But, Auntie, don’t you even know what he wrote?”
The old lady looked down, troubled and shy like a child who has unwittingly done wrong. “No, dear,” she said, speaking very low. “You see, I never learned to read.”
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