Ah yes. LRY, which eventually gave way to the aptly named YRUU, when the burden of teen pregnancies became too heavy, even for the open-minded Unitarian Universalists. My parents raised us UU, the only possible compromise for my Episcopalian mother and my cult-survivor, atheist father (he who was raised in the flat-earth, faith-healing theocracy at Zion, Illinois). My dad eventually returned to his religious roots and died a street corner preacher, felled by untreated cancer which he was certain he could cure by prayer. I've tried several times to write the Books of Zion; thank you for the inspiration to try again.
This is reminding me of the hold fire and brimstone types can have over a family. I have my great-grandfather's diaries from around 1905, in which he describes becoming a born-again Christian. Lots of religious ranting, interwoven with quite funny (in retrospect) stories of wandering off to lay-preach to anyone who'd hear him, leaving his wife and four daughters behind.
His granddaughters (my mother and aunt) remembered him as a terrifying presence in their childhoods, drilling them on the bible and threatening them with hell if they weren't good. I've met second cousins by whom he is remembered in the same way! He's my only ancestor whose reputation and influence has lived on like that. Notorious for the wrong reasons.
Wendy, so many families have a character like this, if not several. They leave deep scars on impressionable children. Religious abuse is real, and set my father on the path to addiction. I’m glad you related to my story.
Rona,It's Sunday morning here, and after reading this I feel like I just "went to church, whatever church there be!" I'm thinking of my many years of ALANON, and the heartbreak of the alcoholics in my life, and how I had to just stop going when my daughter died recently. I'm struggling with it! Instead, or in place of, I'm writing about her. Just for me. Thanks for your words. I feel a little less lost because of them.
Oh, Janice. I'm so profoundly sorry for the loss of your irreplaceable daughter. Writing will help you bear what must be borne. I'm glad this essay gave you a safe harbor.
This was such a powerful read this morning. Yesterday my 30-year-old daughter and I had a long conversation about faith vs. spirituality. We arrived at the conclusion that we're both seeking for the togetherness of the universe. That's why I don't see a conflict between scripture and horoscopes and tarot cards (both of which I find interesting , but don't lean into to the same degree that she does)--when they're all delivering a similar message, I see that as confirmation of the good energy guiding us through this mess of a world. For me, everything centers around a divine creator; for her, meaning is in the "aroundness" of convergence. I think that encircling energy is just another name for the love you're writing about here. Thanks for this.
This was beautiful Rona. Two of my children bear the name Maynard and I find these stories of your family fascinating. I do not believe my kid's great grandfather, Sidney Maynard, is related to your family as he emigrated from England to Canada before WWI and as far as I know did not have close relatives in the U.S.
Sid fought for the Canadian army in WWI. He did not drink and any religious fervour he may have had disappeared with the horror he experienced in the trenches. They say there are no atheists in foxholes, but he looked at the death and destruction all around him and wondered what sort of God would do this, allow this. And despite smoking roll your own cigarettes all day, everyday, he lived into his nineties.
Thank you! My Maynards were British, from Kent. Great-grandmother Maynard ran a boarding house in Tunbridge Wells. My Maynard grandparents were missionaries in India, part of the British raj, before arriving in Canada. My father had a brother who died with Canadians at Vimy Ridge.
“On bad days, she yelled at trifles.” You know you lived in the UK too long when on the first reading, that has you thinking Why? Before collapsing into giggles.
Then, by the end, there are tears in your eyes.
I have never been able to cope with Step 3. A childhood spent observing religious hypocrisy - a quiet, well-behaved little bookworm, I frequently went unnoticed when I was in the company of adults. But I heard plenty, and remembered most of it. The sanctimonious behaviours of my paternal grandparents’ religious community drove me away early. I’d rather remember being congratulated by a parent for calling out a church leader’s highly prejudicial hiring practices for a student employment project.
Thank you, Rona for helping me feel seen in your words.
Atheist here and also had addiction riddled parents. My father’s alcoholism ruined his body and in 1995 he was given one last beer that he used to get to death. I was raised mostly by my religious grandmother who used the threat of hell to try to get me to comply.
I never did.
I have thought about going to AL-ANON a few times, but haven’t mustered the motivation to go. I keep thinking maybe one day. Doubtful though.
Thank you again for sharing your story, it’s made me feel less alone ♥️
Mesa, I am sorry life has made you an expert on the religious abuse of children. On top of the parental addiction, it's a heavy burden. I'm glad you found some consolation in my story.
Rona, I agree with you that it all comes down to love. Thank you for sharing on such a personal topic and inviting further sharing in your comments. I wasn't raised in Church or atheism, just a benign nominal Christianity--sort of a 'cultural Christianity'. Ancestors had fled Europe and come to America as Puritans and later Mennonites, but both had watered down through generations. But I yearned for an understanding, faith, belief---I went to church with friends and kept searching for a long time. As an adult my faith has matured and has carried me through darkest times, mostly because of love and care by others. Even as a professing Christian, I believe that it all comes down to love. 1 Corinthians 13, 23rd Psalm and the Voice in the Whirlwind in Job all bring me comfort and a guiding faith. I had to add --you have written a beautiful portrait of your mentor.
Thank you, Leslie, for this glimpse of your life in faith and your closing comment on my mentor. She is all but forgotten today. I wanted to honor her memory.
Just what I needed on a bleak morning. I woke my husband up in the night to tell him, I am not myself, I’ve lost me. He is helping me, and so are you. Thank you Rona.
I agree that love is the meaning in life. And as I age and see that I will lose all the people and animals and even places I love, I'm learning to direct that energy toward myself, the only one I can count on seeing me through to the end.
Trevy, loss is the hardest part of aging, isn’t it? I miss so many friends, and soon my dear dog will join them. Filling the spirit every day is what it takes to live with hope and purpose.
So much to ponder here! Your stories about your Plymouth Brethren ancestors especially struck a chord -- they reminded me of my own family. My great-grandfather & his family lived on a farm across the road from his next-oldest sister and her family; my grandfather was buddies with their son/his cousin, who was the same age. They converted to PB, sometime in the 1920s, I think. My grandfather said they showed up at the door one day and tried to persuade his parents to see the light and join them. My great-grandparents declined, and 100-ish years later, the sister's descendants remain estranged from the rest of our extended family. My grandfather and another cousin attempted to attend their PB cousin & childhood playmate's funeral in the early 1980s; they were not allowed to enter the church. I recently connected with that man's grandson -- my 3rd cousin -- who left the Brethren several years ago and has not seen nor spoken to his mother or siblings since then. Just so sad all round, but it is nice to have finally connected with someone from that branch of the family again, after so many years of estrangement.
I was brought up Anglican, but haven't attended church regularly in years. Too much about organized religion bothers me, particularly the way it seems to have become so entwined with politics these days -- although I am thankful I got a solid grounding in the Bible and Book of Common Prayer in my youth. There's a quote attributed to Gandhi that expresses my feelings well -- it goes something like, "I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ."
So true, Lori. I have been in touch with a number of people who were raised by the PB. Their influence was toxic. Even when you leave, you can’t scrape the toxin off your soul.
Rona, in all your writing but particularly here, you enrich the meaning of "Men must endure / Their going hence, even as their coming hither; / Ripeness is all." So much dimension in this work. Thank you.
Thank you, Jay. I feel about readers as Hemingway did about sentences. You are One True Reader who nourishes my belief in other True Readers--finding them for my own work and being One True Reader for others.
I was an only child with parents who tended to wait for me to teach them rather than the other way around. From holding my young mother in my arms at the age of 4 while she lay on her bed deathly afraid of thunderstorms to getting up every Sunday morning , dressing myself, and walking to Sunday School from the age of 6 thru 12. I have no idea where that inspiration came from because my parents were not religious as in attending a church, but they allowed me, at that age, to attend. They were not abusive, drinking parents, but rather sweet, hardworking parents who adored this child, me, they had given birth to. I felt responsible for them in so many ways and always strived to make sure their faith in me did not waver. They were products of the farming communities of Southern Illinois who graduated from 8th grade , worked hard, migrated to a large city, bought a home, and raised a child, me. I am better able to cope with those aggravating and major issues that come up in life maybe because of an inner strength they fostered so innocently. Thanks, Rona, as always you put my mind, history, thoughts, and fingers to work !
Vi, I think you might like Richard Ford’s short memoir of his parents, who seem a lot like yours—kind, loving understated and steadfast. It’s called Between Them. To be loved early and unflinchingly is a great gift.
What a delightful reading suggestion. I've just ordered it for my Kindle. Thanks for the reminder of the gift they gave me, Rona. I am fortunate to have been the "star" in their universe for all their parenting lives because it helped mold me into the person I am today. I'm smiling...
Ah yes. LRY, which eventually gave way to the aptly named YRUU, when the burden of teen pregnancies became too heavy, even for the open-minded Unitarian Universalists. My parents raised us UU, the only possible compromise for my Episcopalian mother and my cult-survivor, atheist father (he who was raised in the flat-earth, faith-healing theocracy at Zion, Illinois). My dad eventually returned to his religious roots and died a street corner preacher, felled by untreated cancer which he was certain he could cure by prayer. I've tried several times to write the Books of Zion; thank you for the inspiration to try again.
What a tale, Stella. I hope you write it and am honored to light the spark of inspiration.
Thanks so much, Rona! Been carrying that one around in my head for years while writing & publishing other books. Perhaps it's time...
Wonderful, Rona!
This is reminding me of the hold fire and brimstone types can have over a family. I have my great-grandfather's diaries from around 1905, in which he describes becoming a born-again Christian. Lots of religious ranting, interwoven with quite funny (in retrospect) stories of wandering off to lay-preach to anyone who'd hear him, leaving his wife and four daughters behind.
His granddaughters (my mother and aunt) remembered him as a terrifying presence in their childhoods, drilling them on the bible and threatening them with hell if they weren't good. I've met second cousins by whom he is remembered in the same way! He's my only ancestor whose reputation and influence has lived on like that. Notorious for the wrong reasons.
Wendy, so many families have a character like this, if not several. They leave deep scars on impressionable children. Religious abuse is real, and set my father on the path to addiction. I’m glad you related to my story.
Rona,It's Sunday morning here, and after reading this I feel like I just "went to church, whatever church there be!" I'm thinking of my many years of ALANON, and the heartbreak of the alcoholics in my life, and how I had to just stop going when my daughter died recently. I'm struggling with it! Instead, or in place of, I'm writing about her. Just for me. Thanks for your words. I feel a little less lost because of them.
Oh, Janice. I'm so profoundly sorry for the loss of your irreplaceable daughter. Writing will help you bear what must be borne. I'm glad this essay gave you a safe harbor.
Hugs, Janice.
This was such a powerful read this morning. Yesterday my 30-year-old daughter and I had a long conversation about faith vs. spirituality. We arrived at the conclusion that we're both seeking for the togetherness of the universe. That's why I don't see a conflict between scripture and horoscopes and tarot cards (both of which I find interesting , but don't lean into to the same degree that she does)--when they're all delivering a similar message, I see that as confirmation of the good energy guiding us through this mess of a world. For me, everything centers around a divine creator; for her, meaning is in the "aroundness" of convergence. I think that encircling energy is just another name for the love you're writing about here. Thanks for this.
Thank you, Pam. So much comes down to nomenclature. That's why I like the expression "whatever gods there be."
This was beautiful Rona. Two of my children bear the name Maynard and I find these stories of your family fascinating. I do not believe my kid's great grandfather, Sidney Maynard, is related to your family as he emigrated from England to Canada before WWI and as far as I know did not have close relatives in the U.S.
Sid fought for the Canadian army in WWI. He did not drink and any religious fervour he may have had disappeared with the horror he experienced in the trenches. They say there are no atheists in foxholes, but he looked at the death and destruction all around him and wondered what sort of God would do this, allow this. And despite smoking roll your own cigarettes all day, everyday, he lived into his nineties.
Thank you! My Maynards were British, from Kent. Great-grandmother Maynard ran a boarding house in Tunbridge Wells. My Maynard grandparents were missionaries in India, part of the British raj, before arriving in Canada. My father had a brother who died with Canadians at Vimy Ridge.
“On bad days, she yelled at trifles.” You know you lived in the UK too long when on the first reading, that has you thinking Why? Before collapsing into giggles.
Then, by the end, there are tears in your eyes.
I have never been able to cope with Step 3. A childhood spent observing religious hypocrisy - a quiet, well-behaved little bookworm, I frequently went unnoticed when I was in the company of adults. But I heard plenty, and remembered most of it. The sanctimonious behaviours of my paternal grandparents’ religious community drove me away early. I’d rather remember being congratulated by a parent for calling out a church leader’s highly prejudicial hiring practices for a student employment project.
Oh, I’d never yell at a fine English trifle. Bring it on! Thanks for the smile—and the memories.
I believe in friendship, especially of a dog. When life pulls me down, my dog is there, pulling me down the road.
Yes. Dogs, unlike humans, do not hold grudges or ask what could and should be better. They love their lives and inspire their people to do the same.
Thank you, Rona for helping me feel seen in your words.
Atheist here and also had addiction riddled parents. My father’s alcoholism ruined his body and in 1995 he was given one last beer that he used to get to death. I was raised mostly by my religious grandmother who used the threat of hell to try to get me to comply.
I never did.
I have thought about going to AL-ANON a few times, but haven’t mustered the motivation to go. I keep thinking maybe one day. Doubtful though.
Thank you again for sharing your story, it’s made me feel less alone ♥️
Mesa, I am sorry life has made you an expert on the religious abuse of children. On top of the parental addiction, it's a heavy burden. I'm glad you found some consolation in my story.
Rona, I agree with you that it all comes down to love. Thank you for sharing on such a personal topic and inviting further sharing in your comments. I wasn't raised in Church or atheism, just a benign nominal Christianity--sort of a 'cultural Christianity'. Ancestors had fled Europe and come to America as Puritans and later Mennonites, but both had watered down through generations. But I yearned for an understanding, faith, belief---I went to church with friends and kept searching for a long time. As an adult my faith has matured and has carried me through darkest times, mostly because of love and care by others. Even as a professing Christian, I believe that it all comes down to love. 1 Corinthians 13, 23rd Psalm and the Voice in the Whirlwind in Job all bring me comfort and a guiding faith. I had to add --you have written a beautiful portrait of your mentor.
Thank you, Leslie, for this glimpse of your life in faith and your closing comment on my mentor. She is all but forgotten today. I wanted to honor her memory.
I think that too. Love is the purpose. It's always the simplest answer, isn't it?
Indeed. Humans are complicators. As Keitha used to say to me, "Don't overthink."
Just what I needed on a bleak morning. I woke my husband up in the night to tell him, I am not myself, I’ve lost me. He is helping me, and so are you. Thank you Rona.
You chose a good man, Susan. Hang in there. I'm glad to meet you here. See you next Sunday.
I haven’t been to church forever but this was a wonderful Sunday sermon.
Thank you, Rachel. I wonder what my Maynard grandparents would think of my "sermon."
😊
I agree that love is the meaning in life. And as I age and see that I will lose all the people and animals and even places I love, I'm learning to direct that energy toward myself, the only one I can count on seeing me through to the end.
Trevy, loss is the hardest part of aging, isn’t it? I miss so many friends, and soon my dear dog will join them. Filling the spirit every day is what it takes to live with hope and purpose.
Thanks, Rona. That is excellent advice. And I'm sorry about your aging pup!
So much to ponder here! Your stories about your Plymouth Brethren ancestors especially struck a chord -- they reminded me of my own family. My great-grandfather & his family lived on a farm across the road from his next-oldest sister and her family; my grandfather was buddies with their son/his cousin, who was the same age. They converted to PB, sometime in the 1920s, I think. My grandfather said they showed up at the door one day and tried to persuade his parents to see the light and join them. My great-grandparents declined, and 100-ish years later, the sister's descendants remain estranged from the rest of our extended family. My grandfather and another cousin attempted to attend their PB cousin & childhood playmate's funeral in the early 1980s; they were not allowed to enter the church. I recently connected with that man's grandson -- my 3rd cousin -- who left the Brethren several years ago and has not seen nor spoken to his mother or siblings since then. Just so sad all round, but it is nice to have finally connected with someone from that branch of the family again, after so many years of estrangement.
I was brought up Anglican, but haven't attended church regularly in years. Too much about organized religion bothers me, particularly the way it seems to have become so entwined with politics these days -- although I am thankful I got a solid grounding in the Bible and Book of Common Prayer in my youth. There's a quote attributed to Gandhi that expresses my feelings well -- it goes something like, "I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ."
So true, Lori. I have been in touch with a number of people who were raised by the PB. Their influence was toxic. Even when you leave, you can’t scrape the toxin off your soul.
Rona, in all your writing but particularly here, you enrich the meaning of "Men must endure / Their going hence, even as their coming hither; / Ripeness is all." So much dimension in this work. Thank you.
Thank you, Jay. I feel about readers as Hemingway did about sentences. You are One True Reader who nourishes my belief in other True Readers--finding them for my own work and being One True Reader for others.
I was an only child with parents who tended to wait for me to teach them rather than the other way around. From holding my young mother in my arms at the age of 4 while she lay on her bed deathly afraid of thunderstorms to getting up every Sunday morning , dressing myself, and walking to Sunday School from the age of 6 thru 12. I have no idea where that inspiration came from because my parents were not religious as in attending a church, but they allowed me, at that age, to attend. They were not abusive, drinking parents, but rather sweet, hardworking parents who adored this child, me, they had given birth to. I felt responsible for them in so many ways and always strived to make sure their faith in me did not waver. They were products of the farming communities of Southern Illinois who graduated from 8th grade , worked hard, migrated to a large city, bought a home, and raised a child, me. I am better able to cope with those aggravating and major issues that come up in life maybe because of an inner strength they fostered so innocently. Thanks, Rona, as always you put my mind, history, thoughts, and fingers to work !
Vi, I think you might like Richard Ford’s short memoir of his parents, who seem a lot like yours—kind, loving understated and steadfast. It’s called Between Them. To be loved early and unflinchingly is a great gift.
What a delightful reading suggestion. I've just ordered it for my Kindle. Thanks for the reminder of the gift they gave me, Rona. I am fortunate to have been the "star" in their universe for all their parenting lives because it helped mold me into the person I am today. I'm smiling...