Keeping Track of Time

I was well enough for church Sunday and what a wondrous time it was! There was an early service for everyone who performed any service or work, then the regular service. The place was packed and Mike preached one of the best and most unusual sermons I've ever heard. Afterward, there was a church family party, complete with Easter egg hunt and huge Easter dinner (ham, chicken, rice, veggies, salad, side dishes, desserts and more)... wow! I enjoyed another ham dinner with Richard after he got home from work, then we shared a quiet evening together.

Today was the last day of the women's Bible Study I go to at First Baptist and we went out to the Olive garden after the lesson. We'll start a new study April 14. I still am a bit run down so spent the rest of the day just relaxing with Richard. It was his day off. So how boring is all this? But it helps me keep track of time.

Now an entry for my book

KEEPING TRACK OF TIME

My life began in Denver, but I don't imagine either of my parents knew just when this miracle occurred. And miracle it was. Oh yes, every conception is a miracle and each birth an even greater one, but in this case there was so much more to marvel at...

Come with me as I slip from my mother's womb and travel back in time to 1906 and watch her as a frightened two-year old somewhere in Illinois listening to the pain wrenched cries of her raven haired mother in the another room. Strangers were in the house and her father, always tall and aloof, acted like a stranger, too. No one seemed to notice Thelma Marie huddled on a sofa in the ornate parlor.

At some point, her mother grew silent and there was the shrill squeal of a newborn. Thelma had a baby brother, Christof Carl Arndt. In a flurry, someone brought him out of the bedroom and fussed over him, still paying her no mind. Timidly, she crept into the kitchen to see the baby. Her father had gone into the bedroom, but not long after, he and everyone else left that room and the door was shut. Thelma never again saw her mother alive. She would later learn more than she wanted to know about pre-eclampsia (toxemia) and eclampsia, including the hereditary links.

Richard Jacob Arndt, a German immigrant, was not a good single parent and he knew it. He was bitter and heartbroken over the loss of his beloved Mary Elizabeth, and life without her became grim to the point of unbearable. His children were mostly a burden he left on the shoulders of hired caregivers. Indeed, every time he looked at Chris, anger welled from deep inside. This child had cost him the love of his life.  

Thelma was a quiet child, well provided for and not mistreated, yet she seldom smiled and was keenly aware of her father's unresolved anger. Chris was often beaten and there seemed no way to avoid it. Thelma wanted to protect him, but how? And who knew if she might not be next? Her only recourse was to shelter and nurture him all she could, but there was always the worry, always the stress, and in the end, there was simply no way for her to control or mitigate the situation.

Finally, in 1910, when Thelma was six, her father remarried. Her new mother was named Iona and brought with her a son named John. Suddenly, everything changed. Her father actually smiled now and then and, for a time, seemed to be less harsh with Chris. She hoped it would last, but she still worried it might not.

Iona was a strong woman and it wasn't long until she had several business ventures going in addition to managing the household. Three years later, she bore a son, Donald Anderson Arndt, who was the apple of Thelma's eye and the darling of the family. Richard never struck any of his other children but continued to whip Chris until the boy ran off as a teen and became a merchant marine. Even so, Thelma always worried about who might be her father's next scapegoat.

Thelma idolized her step-mother who lavished her with the acceptance and affection she had never received from her father. Iona encouraged Thelma to be more outgoing, but the girl preferred her books and solitude more than venturing out with friends or into activities.  

The family lived in Illinois, Nebraska and South Dakota. John Naugle followed his mother's footsteps and became a businessman, Donald graduated from Colorado's School of Mines as an engineer, then became a pharmacist, and finally went on to medical school and practiced all his life in Berthoud, Colorado. 

After high school, Thelma's story acquires a hint of mystery. She always told us she went to college in Chadron, Nebraska until she was 19 when she contracted tuberculosis and was in a T.B. sanitarium for five years before going to live with her folks in Custer, SD, until 1937 when she married. But she also told of teaching in a one-room school and boarding with certain families, which just didn't all fit in the time frame.

Follow along with me now, as keeping track of time becomes even more difficult. I visited Chadron State College and obtained a copy of my mother's transcript. "You won't have to pay a fee," said the registrar who had gone to the basement dig up the record, "because every student gets one official transcript free of charge, and she never got hers." Mama had never ordered a copy of her school transcript even though she was so proud of having a "college education."

The transcript was all hand written. Mama did well in English Lit. and was a D student in Chemistry and P.E. She had two years worth of credit but was, not surprisingly, in no extracurricular activities. But the shocking aspect of this document was the date. There were some unaccounted for years between high school and college, so that she is not having T.B. at 19, but withdraws from school, ill, at 24. Keeping track of time, we find then that Mama must have left the sanatarium in 1933 at age 29.

Does it matter? Only in that it is so unlike my mother to have any sort of mystery about her life, and of course, as my own daughter said of it, if there is missing time in your mother's life, you may have a sibling you haven't met. That would also be SO out of character for both my mother and her mother, Iona, both of whom I feel would have kept the baby. So much for keeping track of time.

Mama was hidden away from the world and it's bacteria for five lonely years, but she enjoyed them. The safety and sameness of the days was comforting. Her college and teaching time boarding with families had been a lot like living with her father, fraught with worry that she might displease.  The people she lived with were sometimes harsh. Although her family wasn't poor, she was expected to pay her way so earned board and room by keeping house and caring for the children where she stayed. The sanatarium had no expectations and no unpleasant outbursts.

In spite of her sheltered care, healthy diet and carefully timed sessions in the sun room, Mama dwindled to 89 pounds, her condition grew worse and she wasn't expected to live. Finally, Iona would have no more of it and brought Mama home, supposedly to die, but everyone one who knew Iona knew she didn't believe that. These two women, one bold, strong, determined; one timid, shy and dying, both had a strong faith in God. They prayed, one believing, the other no longer caring, but trying to please her adored mother... and God honored those prayers.

Mama never should have lived to conceive me, but God stepped in. Somewhere along the line, maybe even during those "lost" years, or perhaps when she was so ill, some doctor told Mama she could never have a child, or that to have one would kill her, I'm not just sure any more. The pregnancy was miraculous for another reason as well.