Book Intro

I have just spend over nine hours editing and re-editing what you are about to read. The original was written months ago as a post that some of you might remember. It has changed quite a lot since then. In fact, this is the fourth draft. I am considering it for the intro to the book I am starting. For this post, I have replaced names with letters that are not even initials. 

Even as I write this, I think I will use fictitious names in the book to protect my family's, especially my granddaughters',  identity. 

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Laughter and loud voices filled C. and E.’s living room. An evening of birthday fun at our younger son’s home was off to a great start. Everyone was there: my husband and I, our three adult children, their spouses, and all seven grandkids. The adults visited and snacked on chips, salsa, and veggies in the living room while the grandchildren played in the bedroom.

Sometime during the evening, the four-year-old granddaughters both decided to dress up. With the help of the older kids, they donned angel costumes, complete with beautiful, sparkling wings. Then, oh so gracefully, they flapped into the middle of the adults’ conversation. Before long they were flying high overhead, supported by my husband’s hands--first one girl, and then the other.

As each little girl got brave enough to let go of Papa’s arms and spread out her own arms, her imagination took over. We watched her slowly transform from a costumed little girl, hanging on for dear life, into a beautiful, soaring angel. The glow on each girl’s face changed a living room full of happy people into a heavenly place of angelic beings and admiring celebrants. That birthday party had become truly magical.

Now, let’s fast forward from the evening with angels to a different evening that took place six years later--one that wasn't magical at all, one that still haunts me. That day had been like any other. Even the phone call I got from C. during dinner, “Mom, I need Dad to come over for a few minutes. It won’t take long,” was not unusual.

“Sure,” I told him, “I’ll let Dad know.”

Twenty minutes later, my husband returned home with these softly spoken words, “The kids are on their way over. There is something we have to discuss.”

I sat there at the table and didn't move for a long time. Not wanting to look at him, I just stared at my half-finished crossword puzzle instead, and then finally asked, “How bad is it?”

“It could be worse,” was his simple reply.

The evening of my once-ordinary day suddenly became a nightmare. Unspoken questions filled my head. The kids are coming over? All of them? Why didn't I know that O. & O. were in town? Are their boys with them? Are they staying overnight? What’s wrong?

Right away? Why didn't I have more than a fifteen minute warning? Do I have time to fix a dessert or something? Is it an emergency?

I had known nothing before my husband got home; however, I now knew two things for sure. Our out-of-town kids were in town, and all three of our kids were on their way over for a discussion.

To be perfectly honest, though, while I asked myself all those questions, I knew exactly what was going down. It was not good. Fear and dread had flooded every cell of my body, and my heart had sunk the moment my husband made his announcement of the family gathering. 

At that moment, I knew in my mind, I knew in my gut that all my confusion and concerns about my husband’s relationship with our granddaughters had not been unfounded. I had been right. My concerns had not been honestly addressed. My questions had not been honestly answered. I had been lied to and deceived. Finally, I was going learn the truth about my husband and what he had done.

That entire evening is etched into my mind. I can replay it all. Our daughter sits on the floor. O. & O. cuddle together on one sofa. C. sits next to me on the other sofa. My husband sits on the raised fireplace hearth facing us all. The only family members missing are our son-in-law, daughter-in-law, and all seven grandkids.

Anyone looking into our dimly-lit living room can see nothing overtly unusual about this cozy family setting because they cannot possibly hear the silence that roars in my ears. They cannot see my mind as it races in circles, trying to make sense of the coming destruction. They cannot feel my heart beating at an ever increasing rate, knowing it will soon be broken. All my thoughts, senses, and emotions are too thickly veiled for anyone to see, even my own family.

So, there I stoically sit in a silent living room that echoes with noise-filled memories. I look at my three kids and daughter-in-law, and wonder what these people I deeply love are going through. I look at my veiny, spotted hands, and know old age is approaching. I look at my husband of forty-four years, and feel nothing.  I look at everything, wonder much, know some things, yet feel nothing because, in the midst of my mental turmoil, my emotions have become numb with the thought, how in the world did this happen?

The silence suddenly shatters as my oldest son speaks, “Dad, I think you have something you want to tell us.” I become alert. I know, yet am not fully prepared for what is to come. 

Along came hell is the only way I can describe those first minutes. The  reason I felt that way was merely because I hadn't remembered that God is the head of our household. Thankfully, our daughter-in-law O. did remember. After my husband's confession of molesting the two little granddaughters he had helped fly like angels, and the ensuing discussions on the next steps to take, O. beautifully reminded us that God can take something evil and use it for his good. She also stated that Satan would love nothing more than to destroy our family through this, but declared that he would not succeed. God is the victor. 

That is what our family prayed that night, and continues to pray.

By the time morning finally arrived, our prayers were already being answered. The Lord had brought to mind instance after instance of his hand preparing us for such a time as this. That is when I added a disclaimer to Along Came Hell, "or so I Thought."

Hopefully I can clearly show the mysterious ways the Lord has worked in not only my life, but also the lives of my children, grandchildren, and husband as we travel this unexpected, rocky road. God's love, provision, faithfulness, grace, and healing power have truly touched our lives, eased our journey, and increased our strength. Our God is a mighty God.

(I would appreciate any comments or suggestions. jansjournal@hotmail.com    )

Turning in at 1:45 a.m., or so I think, (2:26 actually)

Jan, Licorice Kitty and family,

All the feline family members are fast asleep.