Choices

Chapter 4

Obviously I didn’t sleep much the night after my ten year old son asked me a question I could not answer. My journal shows both my sleeplessness and my anguish that night. As a mother I was prepared for questions about life and growing up. I had already been through it with Brenda and Tim, so I had some experience. My son’s questioning being a boy was, to say the least, beyond anything any mother should have to deal with and I was sure I was the only one who ever had. That question, coupled with my insomnia forced me to think in terms my faith, or lack thereof.

September 28, 1955 – Thursday – It is morning and I have not slept. All night I thought about what would prompt my Jack to ask why he was born a boy. I’m so afraid something happened to him that I did not know about, maybe he’s been teased by other boys, or worse. I have to find out.

I also prayed last night, on my knees, literally, for God to tell me why this is happening. Why would God do this; not to me but to Jack?

My religious conflict did not keep me from living the life of a Christian woman. That was important for me in Moundsville; actually, it was essential. To do otherwise would, no doubt, give me a taste of what hell and damnation would be like. First, I would have to endure my mother’s wrath, then I would be shunned, and finally I would be the source of constant stares and gossip. It was easier to be a good, church going, holy Christian woman. Besides I mostly agreed with Christian teachings and beliefs and it certainly came in handy with the children.

The Simpson United Methodist Women’s Bible Study group was not just upstanding and revered, but also somewhat pious. Any adult female member of Simpson Methodist could attend the weekly Thursday gathering, but in practice only married women with college degrees showed up. It wasn’t that the degreed housewives, most with children, made others feel unwelcome. No, the working class women of Simpson stayed away because they were likely intimidated; they could not dress as well, could not speak as well and certainly could not match the superior intellect and knowledge of the wives of the successful, or so it seemed. It was a time for high Christian study and discussion, as well as a brief refuge from husbands and children. In-depth discussion of a Bible verse usually led to in-dept forays into personal issues, and then, of course, gossip.

I was a member in good standing with my Bible Study group but I attended irregularly; many did also. With my conversation with my son fresh on my mind and considering the issue, I debated not going the week after I first confronted Jack. In the end I decided I needed to clear my head and what better way to do that than to listen to my sisters in Christ vie for Christian social position. I had absolutely no intention of even hinting that the devil had invaded my life and infected my innocent precious ten year old boy. I felt alone and desperately needed to bond with other women, some who may, I reasoned, have had similar experiences as mothers; not the same experiences I was sure, but excruciatingly emotional issues with a husband or child.

So after I cleared the dinner dishes the Tuesday after Jack posed that question I changed my dress, fixed my makeup and headed over to the church. On the two block walk I reminded myself to resist the temptation to open up to anyone. I entered the church by the side door and climbed the stairs to the upper room where we regularly met. I was greeted by four or five women who arrived ahead of me including Birdie Boswell, wife of our beloved minister John, and the group leader.

Birdie was a competent and intense leader of Biblical discussion, always trying to keep the conversation focused on what she believed was the salient message. But she was shallow and simplistic, often missing opportunities to connect the struggles of women in a small provincial town with Christian values.

I can only guess what men talk about when there are no women present, or more importantly how they talk about women. My guess is the conversation is not always flattering about wives and women; a complaint here, a tad of condescension there and always a hint of misogyny. I don’t really know of course; how could I? It’s a feeling I have. As a woman I just cannot know what men feel or think, let alone what they say to other men. I do know what we talk about during those times when we are together without any male influence. Sure, some complain, bitch really, but mostly we share experiences of the struggles, the ones unique to being women.

I took a seat next to Elaine Rogers, an upstanding member of the church. I just couldn’t bring myself to be very conversational during the hour or so of Biblical discussion.

“How are the boys?” I finally asked Elaine just when Bible study was breaking up. I think I sat next to Elaine Rogers intentionally, hoping I guess, that I would gain, through osmosis, some insight in dealing with a son’s aberrant behavior.

“Oh, they’re doing fine. And yours? Isn’t Brenda a senior this year?” Elaine said continuing the small talk. I wanted to just ask her how she did it; how she stayed so strong and how she coped but that would not be polite. So I just tried to work into it.

“It certainly is a challenge at times, isn’t it?” I ventured.

Elaine gave me a look obviously wondering what I meant. Elaine was the mother of two sons, Reuben, also a senior in high school and the same age as Brenda and Robin, a sophomore. Reuben was musical and Robin the star of the basketball team. Her two boys were as different as night and day and I was hoping she might, well, have some insight.

“Yes, a challenge is one way you could put it. I prefer to see it as a test of my faith.” She answered coldly. Having our faith tested was a common way to describe the difficult things that happen, with or without a reason, in Moundsville.

“Elaine, I hope I’m not out of bounds here, but I marvel at your strength.” I noted sincerely. “I just don’t know I could be as strong.”

I had not planned to have an intimate conversation with Elaine Rogers. In fact, I wasn’t sure she would be open to one. But if there was one mother in Moundsville who had dealt with a challenge it was Elaine and her challenge was named Reuben. It may have been selfish and it certainly was risky but I suddenly felt a bond with Elaine. Instead of seeing her as the mother of the ‘troubled’ son, I now saw her as a woman who loved and stood up for a child who was clearly different. Now I felt that I had something in common with her; a son who was different; I just prayed they didn’t share the same difference.

Elaine turned to me and searched my face. She looked into my eyes.

“Miri, you are not alone. Yes, I’ve had to trust the Lord; I’ve had my weak moments. I’ve cried many nights but in the end, my only choice has been to have faith in Christ Jesus and to love my child.” She paused, waiting for me to say something. I didn’t.

“Whatever it is, Miri, don’t ever turn away from your child or from God. I’ve had many people, some in this church, good people, tell me I had to try to change Reuben. I’ve been told it’s my fault the way he is. I’ve been told he needs to play football. Jim Jones offered to have him spend the summer on his farm; said he would make a man out of him. We’ve been to doctors, four or five of them and all of them said Reuben needed intensive treatment; that he is sick.” Elaine was now emotional, almost crying but she held strong. I was happy to let her talk. She took a breath and continued.

“But I know my son. I know people condemn him, call him deviate and a sinner. I know he’s not like other boys. Reuben is different, yes, but in a special way; he is smart, loving and talented. I endure the condemnations and the gossip, and then go home and celebrate the gift God has given me.” She paused again giving me a chance to say something. Again when I didn’t she added.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but something is. If you want to talk, I am here. If not, I understand. I will tell you that if it is anything like what was given to me, you will not find many supporters and few answers. I’m sorry to tell you this but with whatever it is, you are alone, except for your faith in God, faith that will give you strength and lead you to salvation.” Elaine gave me a little hug.

I didn’t open up to Elaine Rogers about Jack that night, or ever. I just couldn’t. My issue, actually Jack’s, was different I thought (Jack and Reuben were not at all alike), and fear of association told me a sudden close friendship with Elaine Rogers would feed the insatiable gossip monster. But her advice made a lasting impression on me and I resolved always to choose love over outside advice for whatever challenge I faced with Jack in the future. And I had a renewed respect for God and the power of faith.