Is There Any Hope Left?

We finished reading George Orwell’s 1984 the other day. It had been awhile since we had tackled the book, and Eric and I had stopped at Room 101 because we were afraid we’d have nightmares. But we finally did finish reading the text, then read through the Principles of Newspeak, and finally read some of the Afterword by Erich Fromme to boot.

Here’s how Erich Fromme began:

“George Orwell’s 1984 is the expression of a mood, and it is a warning. The mood it expresses is that of near despair about the future of man, and the warning is that unless the course of history changes, men all over the world will lose their most human qualities, will become soulless automatons, and will not even be aware of it.”

We didn’t read all of the Afterword because it was simply an atheist philosopher commenting on the work of an atheist writer. But the work itself is as he says, a warning – a billboard proclaiming: “Hopelessness and Despair Ahead. Turn back now!”

Orwell himself died of a lung condition in 1949 at age 46, and it appears the mood of hopelessness stayed with him till the end. The book is copyrighted 1949.

I remember the days of Bill Clinton, from Hope, Arkansas. Just even the name of his hometown was a subliminal message that he could put everything to rights. Whatever was wrong with the world could be fixed by Bill Clinton, if he were President of the United States. Well, that didn’t really pan out, and neither did Barack Obama’s promise of “Hope and Change.” In fact, I well remember the Clinton crime family and all the “suicides” of close associates. And I remember the feeling of depression I had when Obama was declared the winner of the election the second time around. Oh yes, there was change -- plenty of that. On Obama’s watch, guys could now marry each other and enjoy unrestricted access to girls’ bathrooms. But we didn’t see much hope in four more years of a Muslim in the Oval Office.

Now, in 2021, under Joe Biden, the national suicide rate is up. We know it is, but it takes a few years before the statistics are compiled and released. Suicide can be the active taking of one’s own life, or maybe it can also be a reckless attitude about preserving it.

People are anxious these days about getting Covid, being isolated from family in lockdowns, wearing masks, losing their jobs or their businesses, suffering from side effects from the jab, not being able to afford gas to even get to work, or not to be able to buy food or Christmas presents, to name but a few of our worries. And there’s every indication that it’s going to get even worse, that 1984 is just a few years off, and that an authoritarian dictatorship is coming to a world crying out for stability.

As a result of all this stress, mental health is a booming business and new mental hospitals are springing up everywhere. Hopelessness happens when people are convinced that their situation will never get any better. Suicide happens when hopelessness hardens into a conclusion that death would be better than continuing on.

What’s a body to do? How shall we then live? What about the famous line in “Great Is Thy Faithfulness”:

“Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow … “

I spoke of the passing of two dear friends last week. So yes, in the last two weeks, we’ve been to two funerals. Some members of our family have been to a third as well – that of a 19-year-old homeschool grad named Emma, who was rear-ended at full speed by a jeep when her car was stopped on the interstate by construction. Emma was never stabilized enough to be able to be transported to the waiting helicopter. But Emma spent her last minutes on Earth speaking to her rescuers of Heaven and how excited she would be to meet her Savior. 

Emma had hope. Even in the middle of the pain and suffering she was experiencing, she was able to share that hope with others.

Bob, mentioned last week, had previously battled cancer and won. At his funeral, his daughter Jamie related to us how she had told her dad that the strong faith he exhibited during his bout had deepened her own faith in Jesus. He smiled broadly and said, “Then it was all worth it.” Bob shared his hope for the future with his daughter by how he handled his life in the present.

“Where’d that hope come from?,” you may ask. “Is Emma’s hope available to all of us? Is Bob’s hope in suffering just a matter of a really great personality? Or … can I have that too? And where can I get it?” 

Maybe you can find it in the Bible!

Let’s compare Bob’s outlook with Brad’s. Brad’s theology went like this: “We have a blessed hope of Heaven. That means, we can hope and hope and hope that we can get to Heaven, but we just have to do the best we can and see if it’s good enough when we get there.” 

Needless to say, this view is not in line with Biblical truth. His kids attended a Vacation Bible School in our front yard one year, but he was angered when we taught his kids that if they prayed a prayer of faith, they would have the blessed assurance that they would be with Jesus someday, in the place He was preparing for us. Brad’s kids weren’t allowed to attend any more of our church functions. I can only hope they retained enough to overcome their dad’s warped theology.

The hope we have in Jesus is not unsure, wishful thinking – it is a solid rock, based on the promises in the Scriptures. 

Is our hope in Jesus only for after we die? If so, is suicide a good option? (NOTE: These are rhetorical questions, and the answer to both is NO. Assisted suicide is also not a good option.)

Our hope in Jesus is for every day we spend here on Earth AND for eternity after that.

I have known people who really can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, not even a pinprick of light, where they hope to come out at the other side and find that all is normal again. It seems that’s what all humanity right now is longing for – NORMAL. Some insist that we have to accept a “new normal.” Some are predicting a long, cold winter, hyperinflation, and the unvaxxed getting Covid every 16 months. Where’s the light? Are we in a tunnel or sinking into a bottomless pit?

Photo by Thoma Boehi from Pexels

But what if the tunnel has a bend in it? What if there is light, but you can only see it just before you reach the end of it? And what if the tunnel is not merely a place where your life is on pause, but a place where God has deliberately put you so that you can mature and grow in your faith, where you can learn to trust Him even when you can’t see?

What if you are actually digging your way up and out from the rubble of a fallen house after a tornado or earthquake, but you, in your despair, give up when you are only a few inches from the surface?

I can tell you this. There are only two kinds of people: those who have Jesus and those who don’t have Jesus.

Those who have Jesus have all the promises in His Word, and unlimited help and comfort.

Those who don’t have Jesus have only the power of positive thinking or some other empty philosophy. 

Job went through more than anybody I’ve ever known. He lost everything he had except his wife and his life. And through his many monologues in the book that bears his name, he expresses great sorrow and hopelessness at his situation. But in the middle of his sorrows, he utters one of the greatest statements of faith in all the Bible, one that even makes it into Handel’s Messiah:

“Oh that my words were now written! oh that they were printed in a book!

That they were graven with an iron pen and lead in the rock forever!

For I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth:

And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God:

Whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another; though my reins be consumed within me.

~Job 19:23-27

By faith, Job foresaw that even if his flesh was totally consumed by disease or worms, he would stand before God his Redeemer, the Christ, in his glorified new flesh! And guess what? His words were written in a book!

These are words of hope, real solid hope. There are many such “hope” verses in the Bible! 

Susanna (Haley) Silva

And the Holy Spirit Himself is called “The Comforter,” who was given to us because Jesus had to go back to His Father to prepare our eternal home for us.

When it comes to the death of a loved one who was a believer in Christ (or even my own), there is hope, and that’s why all three of the funerals mentioned were not so much a mourning of their deaths as a celebration of their lives. 

“But I do not want you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning those who have fallen asleep, lest you sorrow as others who have no hope.

For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who sleep in Jesus.

“For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord will by no means precede those who are asleep.

For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of an archangel, and with the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first.

“Then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And thus we shall always be with the Lord.

Therefore comfort one another with these words.”

~1 Thes. 4:13-18

This hope doesn’t look wishy-washy or unsure to me! Every instance of “will” or “shall” in those verses is an absolute promise from God.

Suicide is not a good option because Jesus promised to be with us and we who have hope in Him, are to live out our lives here as a testimony to His faithfulness.

So how should we then live? 

By faith, 

with perseverance, 

and with purity.

“For we were saved in this hope, but hope that is seen is not hope; for why does one still hope for what he sees?

But if we hope for what we do not see, we eagerly wait for it with perseverance.”

~Romans 8:24-25

“Beloved, now we are children of God; and it has not yet been revealed what we shall be, but we know that when He is revealed, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is.

And everyone who has this hope in Him purifies himself, just as He is pure.” 

~1 John 3:2-3

Here we are. God has not taken us home yet. If we are still here, there’s a reason for that.

Because of Jesus, we have our sins forgiven, we have all the promises in His Word, we have the Comforter, we have new bodies and eternal life to come, we have new family members to take the place of any who have left us, … and we have jobs to do on earth, to advance His Kingdom. 

This is our Blessed Hope.

And if you don’t have that blessed hope, talk to me in the comments below! You need that!

“Lord Jesus, we thank You for the hope You give us. We need not despair as others do. We will persevere with Your help and trust in Your promises, for You ARE the Light at the end of the tunnel.

It is in Your Holy Name that we pray, Amen.”

Haley Family Stories (Part 6: The Atanacio Side)

This past week, two dear friends passed away to be with Jesus forever. In a way, they are also Haley family stories, because these two impacted the lives of our Haley Family so much.

I will try to write about them now, through teary eyes.

Joan (jo-ann) Ranke was a mentally impaired senior citizen who, because of that, stayed young her entire life. All of our kids “grew up” with Joan, as did every child in Burrows, all of whom were her playmates. She lived in a mobile home behind our big house, with her big sister Betty and Betty’s husband, Ralph. Betty was the township 4-H leader, so our older kids knew her well. Once, when Lisa had been witnessing to another 4-H’er, Betty felt the need to have a talk with her. 

“Lisa,” she said, “Kristin says you told her that if she doesn’t know Jesus, she’ll go to hell.”

“Yes, I told her that.”

“Well, you need to stop doing that, because we all know everybody goes to Heaven.”

Betty meant well, but her theology wasn’t very complete, to say the least. But Joan, “forever young,” began to go to church with us at Calvary Chapel Carroll County. She mostly liked word searches and coloring pages, so instead of having her fall asleep in the service, we allowed her to be a “helper” in the Sunday School. She was sometimes a little ornery, but what kid isn’t? We heard her tell us, on more than one occasion, about her own personal relationship with Jesus, so the Sunday School education actually made her wiser than her sister.

One day, Ralph died, and Betty began to be a danger to Joan as she developed Alzheimer’s. Betty was finally moved to a nursing home and Joan was moved from place to place. On Tuesday, we got word that she had passed away after aspirating some food.

The funeral was Saturday, with Eric officiating, and some of our kids felt guilty because they hadn’t been to the nursing home facility in Peru to see Joan. 

“Would she have remembered me?”

Maybe, but towards the end, there were so many Covid rules that even her own last-surviving sister hadn’t actually been able to visit her for a year and a half and when she did, it had to be outside with a mask. Joan hated that.

Next month, she would have been 92.

No sooner did we finish up the funeral on Saturday, than we got a message saying a dear friend of many years and youth leader at Calvary Chapel of Lafayette had had a heart attack and was being airlifted to a Lafayette hospital from Rennsalaer.

Bob Tanis was someone all of our kids knew and loved as they grew up. This tall, sweet teddy bear spent every summer escorting the youth of the church to camp and spending a week with them and their craziness. He was the youth leader who preferred brownies over Rice Krispy treats, helping the teens raise money for their activities. I have no idea how many kids were baptized at church camp, but Bob led a life that impacted many many others, including those who worked alongside him.

At age 62, after his own kids had long ago graduated from the youth group, he talked about finally retiring from youth leadership, and seriously, nobody even knew he was 62. He was another one of the “forever young” category, who had beaten cancer and recently, had beaten Covid. He did have a few gray hairs, but still!

So when we got the word about this heart attack, we thought, okay, God has healed Bob more than once – He can surely heal him again. So we began to pray.

But this time was Bob’s appointment with Jesus. He went to his forever home a couple of hours before the service started Sunday morning, leaving his wife Deb, three married children, and an entire church family to grieve his absence.

What could we do? At the last minute, Eric was recruited to lead worship, so he grabbed up some songs, we had a brief practice, and we started on time. Eric choked up on one of the songs because our pastor’s wife had told him about a dream of Heaven just before time to start, but thankfully, the congregation “helped him out” by singing with all their might.

And then, I made the announcement for Life Chain, which had been postponed a couple weeks because of inclement weather on the traditional Life Chain day of October 3. Because Bob had gone on to his Eternal Life in Heaven, it remained for us to proclaim Life and Eternal Life to everyone possible on this day in 2021. Jesus came that we might have Life, and that more abundantly. We had a wonderful turnout at Life Chain, and I know that wasn’t what the devil had in mind. But Jesus did!

Now here’s what Eric has written about my side of the family, starting with my dad. Interestingly, the Atanacio side is the part we know the least about, which leaves this large and uncomfortable space in our family tree poster.

**********

DANIEL ATANACIO

 

When I first met my wife Margie, it was love at first sight, at least on my end. I was on the front platform at the Lackland Air Force Base Chapel singing with the choir from a local church, when I saw her sitting there with a smile in her eyes and a glow on her face. Afterwards, I had to squeeze through other airmen to get close enough to introduce myself. You know how it goes:

“Hi, I’m Eric!” 

“Hi, I’m Margie!” 

“Enough small talk. Let’s go outside so we can get to know each other.” 

“My name is Eric Haley.” 

“My name is Margie Linda Atanacio.” 

I think my first response after that was, “Oh, wow!” I knew by the way she said it that this was my first test. I had to get the name right. She was gracious enough to help me with that, and before we met again, I had it down to a perfection.

 

Margie’s father was Daniel Atanacio, USAF Retired. I found out during the next three months that the Atanacio name was Greek, but Margie was part Puerto Rican. I remember coming home to Indiana for the first time after falling in love with her, telling my mother her name. 

“Her name is Margie Linda Atanacio.” 

“What kind of a name is that!” she asked. 

Knowing her dislike for a Mexican girl I had met the year before, I responded very truthfully. 

“Greek. It’s a Greek name.” 

My mother was relieved by that, and once we were married, accepted my lovely wife into the family without hesitation.

 

Daniel Atanacio was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York. His parents had immigrated to New York around 1930. All four of the Atanacio siblings were born in Brooklyn. Daniel grew up in a Spanish Pentecostal environment with a very strict father and mother who never learned to speak English. Daniel was born in 1934, doing his best to avoid the street gangs of New York, and in 1953, soon after High School graduation, he joined the U.S. Air Force, wanting to be literally above the fray if ever war broke out.

Daniel Atanacio, having attained the rank of Staff Sergeant

America was at war in Korea at the time, but that was over before he finished his training. The next war was his to fight, and though he was not flying over the enemy, he was sent to Vietnam with the Red Horse Squadron, a crazy group of soldiers that did the advance work to build the things that kept other soldiers alive.

 

Daniel retired from the Air Force as a Tech Sergeant in 1973, just a year before his daughter Margie would follow in his footsteps into the Air Force.

 

THE ATANASIO FAMILY

 

My wife and her siblings spell their last name with a “c,” because of some military recruiter or staffer who misread Daniel’s birth certificate, so Daniel became the first American “Atanacio'' of the family. His brothers, sister, mom, and dad spelled their name “Atanasio.”

 

Daniel’s father was Alberto Atanasio, born in 1903 in or near San Juan, Puerto Rico.

Alberto Atanasio. Margie’s dad said that wasn’t his accordion.

Daniel’s mother was Eusebia (or Cheva) Ruiz, born in 1906 in Vega Baja, Puerto Rico. Alberto was a cane picker, but once in America, he trained as a machinist’s apprentice. 

 

Alberto’s father was Emilio Atanacio (back to the “c” spelling). His full name was Emilio Atanacio Y Aquilino. He was born in 1869 in Puerto Rico and married Eulogia Medina who became Elogia Medina Y Serrano De Atanacio Y Aquilino. I am so glad they dropped all the extra names by the time I met Margie. Emilio and Eulogia had eight sons and one daughter.

A smattering of Atanasio cousins, during a visit in 1961. Margie is in the front row, bottom left.

 

There is one more Atanasio generation traced beyond Emilio and that is Agustin Atanasio Y Hernandez (bn. 1805) and his wife Maria Florentina Y Castillo Y Ayala (bn 1810), both of Bayamon, Puerto Rico.

 

Margie’s abuela (grandmother) was the daughter of Simplicio Ruiz and Maria Valentine. 

Abuela Cheva, looking very beautiful

Margie (center) with her mom, her abuela, and her siblings

Simplicio was the son of Santiago Ruiz and Romona Cruz. Beyond this point we have no other information.

 

It appears that even though Margie’s maiden name is Greek, her heritage is most certainly Puerto Rican from her father’s side, and though it is a mix of Greek, Spanish and Italian heritage from the Atanasio line, the Ruiz line is Taino, the indigenous people of Puerto Rico. With all things considered, I have not yet found any family line that was not born in Puerto Rico, and I believe that it’s fair to say that Margie is half Puerto Rican.

**********

The two people at the beginning of this post have this in common with most of these ancestors of mine: except for my dad, they are all on the other side of life now. The Apostle Paul said in 2 Cor. 5 that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. Dulcinea, Robyn’s little daughter, sat in my lap on Saturday during the funeral, and I explained to her that though Joan’s body would be entombed in the fifth floor of that mausoleum in Logansport, her spirit was with Jesus. And I know that many of my ancestors, most notably my Abuela Cheva, are also with Jesus.

Betty was horribly wrong. Not everybody gets to go to Heaven. In fact, Jesus particularly addresses that.

"Not everyone who says to Me, 'Lord, Lord,' shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of My Father in heaven.

“Many will say to Me in that day, 'Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in Your name, cast out demons in Your name, and done many wonders in Your name?'

“And then I will declare to them, 'I never knew you; depart from Me, you who practice lawlessness!'

 ~Matthew 7:21-23

Lisa, at age ten, knew about how to get to Heaven and she was exactly right. Chris and Susie, as children, were also two of our most determined evangelists, caring greatly about their friends. Several of our grandchildren have reached out to strangers because their deep faith makes it impossible to keep silent about the Good News.

Sammy, one of my evangelist grandchildren, at Life Chain 2021

“At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, "Who then is greatest in the kingdom of heaven?"

“Then Jesus called a little child to Him, set him in the midst of them, and said, "Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven.

“Therefore whoever humbles himself as this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.

~Matthew 18:1-4

“Lord Jesus, give us childlike faith, to humble ourselves and seek Your face and Your forgiveness. We know that not everyone will enter the Kingdom of Heaven, but help us to find it and to show others the way. Today is the day of Salvation. Even so, Lord Jesus, may Thy Kingdom come, and come quickly! We are anxious to see our loved ones there. 

“For it is in Your Name we pray, Amen.”

Eric’s 60th birthday party at our church, 2015. Joan is on the far left in the back.

Church camp counselor Bob, in the back with his arm raised in worship.

Valerie and Vivian are seated, third and sixth from the left.

Haley Family Stories (Part 5: Oxley, Cox, Huff, and Spencer Families)

This is the last instalment of Eric’s family history. Then I get to move on to my side. Somehow that seems more exciting to me, but maybe it shouldn’t. Besides, this is a rather fun section.

Yesterday was Columbus Day, or it used to be called that before cancel culture decreed that anyone with white skin was a supremacist. I cannot despise Mr. Columbus. Though my ancestry, it now seems, traces back at least three times to native Americans, I know that if all the Europeans had stayed in Europe, my native American ancestors would still be cluelessly worshiping idols… And they never would have intermarried with the white Europeans from which I am also descended. More to come on that subject. What Eric has found for me is pretty cool.

No less important is the fact that my dear husband Eric would not be here, back home again in Indiana. I’m rather partial to my white European husband, and I’m pretty sure our descendants appreciate him too. In fact, Vivi wants to paint another portrait of us, now in our old age, as if the one that was done when we were 20 and 21 isn’t good enough anymore!  Maybe we’ll take her up on it, if we can get a picture that appeals to my vanity.

 But now it’s time to wrap up Eric’s side of our family.  Take it away, Eric!

**************

OXLEY, COX, HUFF, SPENCER FAMILIES

 

My great grandfather on my mother’s mother’s side was Samuel Tilden Oxley, named for the man who almost became President in the race of 1876 when Rutherford Hayes was elected by a very close and questionable margin.. Samuel was born in 1875 in Dubois County, Indiana and is the only ancestor I have who fought in the Spanish American War. (1898)

Samuel Tilden Oxley

He married Pauline Alice Huff, daughter of Eleven Huff and Mary Ellen Spencer in August of 1900. Samuel and Pauline raised my mother for much of her young life. 

Samuel and Pauline Huff Oxley

They had 4 daughters, to whom Samuel would refer as his “little women.'' One of those “little women'' was my grandmother Audra. Her youngest sister was Crystal, also known as Kit. As a young child, I remember my family would take road trips to visit Aunt Kit and Uncle Dewey in French Lick, Indiana. Their homestead is now at the bottom of Lake Patoka. I have fond memories of those visits, where we would stay the night and sleep on feather beds. Aunt Kit and Uncle Dewey had no hot water, and they heated and cooked with wood. They slopped the hogs right out the back door, butchered their own chickens, and served up delicious meals including biscuits and homemade preserves, and, well, fried chicken. I remember that Dewey had a razor strop hanging on the door leading to the upstairs where we slept, and I was told that he knew how to use it although I never saw him use it in any way. 

 

Sam Oxley’s parents were Herman Oxley and Naoma Cox. The Oxley’s were the latest of my mother’s family to come to America, Herman’s father Robert arriving from England around 1850. Naoma’s father was William Cox, and her mother was Eliza Abell.

There is a family story, now legend, of how Naoma Cox at about 18 years of age, fought off an invasion of Morgan’s Raiders, a Confederate Cavalry unit. The story has it that in the summer of 1863, one of the invaders attempted to push his way through the front door of the house, and Naoma held the door shut, trapping the invader’s hand, then cut it off with a butcher knife. This had its desired effect and the bloodied invader left screaming. On a finger of the hand was a large, impressive ring, so she buried the hand in the yard, ring and all, for fear that someone would come back for it.

Eliza Abell, who died before the war, was the daughter of Frances Abell and Hannah Houston, whose families can be traced back several generations. Francis Abell’s grandfather, Enoch Abell, served as a Lieutenant from Maryland during the American Revolution. Hannah Houston’s family arrived from Scotland in the mid-17th Century.

 

Pauline Alice Huff was the daughter of Eleven Huff and Mary Ellen Spencer. The Huff Family is quite large, and my mother used to attend the family reunions until there were so many people she didn’t know that she quit going. She said once that there must have been 500 people at the last one she attended back in the 1940s.

 

Eleven Right Huff is of questionable parentage. His supposed father, William Huff, died about seven years before he was born. His mother Jane Taylor then moved from Arkansas, where William is buried, to Parkersburg, Illinois where Eleven was born in 1848. He was apparently the eleventh child of Jane Taylor, but his middle name is Right, which may be a clue regarding the last name of his biological father.

Eleven was part of the Indiana 67th and 24th Regiments during the Civil War. His heritage was questioned, since according to his enlistment papers, he had dark skin, dark eyes, and dark hair. A family portrait taken in his senior years shows several of his daughters having dark skin and African American features. His half-brother Jefferson Huff, in sworn testimony, made misleading statements in support of Eleven Huff’s military pension application and the descendants of Jefferson Huff apparently were aware of the cover-up.

Eleven Right Huff (center front) with his sons and daughters.  

Pauline is in the back row, third from the left.

 

Eleven’s wife, Mary Ellen Spencer, was the daughter of Francis Spencer and Louisa Blunk, daughter of Amos Blunk (or Blunt). Today, in Harrison County, Indiana, where the Blunts and Blunks lived there are many with the name of BLANK. 

 

Considering what we know about my mother’s side of the family, except for the mystery of Eleven Huff's father, her heritage is mostly English and mostly Colonial American.

 

Patmore – English / German

Pierce – English

Oxley – English / Scottish

Huff – English

***************

Yes, the story about Naoma Cox chopping off the invader’s hand is pretty thrilling! You can dream of emulating that kind of heroic deed.

Or, you can read a little deeper. Here’s a story you may have missed.

Nobody has been able to pin down who the father of Eleven Huff was, to the extent that some of his descendants decided to just make a coat of arms for the family – starting there, with Eleven. Whether or not his parentage was actually scandalous, they decided that your family is what it is, and thus, they embraced him as their patriarch.

But the daughter of Eleven in Eric’s family line, Pauline Huff Oxley, is the grandmother who was around to raise Eric’s mom, when she needed someone, Rejonnah’s own dad being somewhat less than one could hope for and her mother being, for the most part, a single but loving parent just trying to survive during the Great Depression. Sam and Pauline were surrogate parents for her, who taught her a good work ethic and how to do what was right. 

Even though Pauline had no visible grandfather herself, she raised her granddaughter, who raised my husband.

There are many grandparents in 21st Century USA who’ve also stepped up to the plate to help out, and I applaud them. It is not easy, when your family has been raised, to go back and raise your grandkids. These are also heroes, but largely unsung.

Once when Lisa had five kids, her husband was deathly sick and could have died. Eric and I were faced with the thought that we might need to help out, but we had seven kids still left in the home! Let’s just say that we were praying hard for her husband to get well, but yes, we would have helped if our services had been needed.

You may not feel heroic or exceptional, but you may be in a surrogate parent position at this time in your life. You may have a special needs child. Or you may simply be a parent of small children who need an exceptional amount of time and attention. But you are so greatly needed in your family, right where God has placed you!

Here’s a verse for you to put on your bathroom mirror:

“And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.”

~Galatians 6:9

“Oh Lord God, there are parents and grandparents who are feeling depleted tonight, who need a touch from You – strength for today. You are always faithful to provide that. Give them reassurance and peace, that You are there with them in the journey, and that their effort is time well spent.

In Jesus’ name, Amen”