Life, Etc. -- Twelve

“When we returned to the U.S., we moved to a small town in Texas where my father started a congregation—a very conservative one.  Roland was the first person my father baptized.  He was around 40, and had quite a past with the law and other questionable activities.  He’d basically been told by the local sheriff that if he didn’t get religion soon he’d be headed to jail for a long time and then probably hell on roller skates.

          “By then I was 18, and anxious to leave my father’s home.  He was so strict and didn’t believe in any kind of fun.  I knew Roland had a past, but I thought anything was better than being at home.  We started seeing one another—which meant he came to Sunday dinner, picked me up for Prayer Meeting on Wednesday evenings, and, of course, church both Sunday morning and evening.  Since he belonged to my father’s congregation, Daddy had no objection to our relationship.  My first kiss happened in the back row of the church when my father’s head turned away.

          “So, we were married when I was 18½ and Roland hired out helping farmers work their crops.  There were so many people in that area of Texas who wouldn’t hire Mexicans that Roland had no problem staying busy.

          “About five years after we got married, Roland said God called him into the ministry.  My father was elated—none of my siblings wanted any part of church life.  Daddy and Roland prayed that God would show them where we should start up a church.  Within six months, Roland believed God told him to go to Garland, outside of Dallas.  He said God needed him to cleanse the town of sin.

          “We moved there, and Roland worked hard to form a group of believers.  But after about 30 people started attending—it was held in our living room because no one had the money to finance a building—disagreement began.  Roland believed that he should do only as God instructed him, and wouldn’t listen to anyone unless the person agreed with him.

          “I know, I’m giving a lot of detail.  I’ve never talked with anyone other than Diane about any of this.”

          Diane reached over and touched Isabelle’s hand softly.  “Isabelle, you talk as much as you want.”

          Isabelle smiled and took a breath.  Megan thought she actually saw a bit of color coming to Isabelle’s face.

          “We lived in Garland for three years.  By this time, we had our two children and I was busy trying to keep things going at home while Roland worked hard getting word out about our meetings.

          “One day Roland came home very sick.  He had a fever, upset stomach and was very weak.  He vomited off and on all night.  By morning, I told him we had to get him to the doctor.  But Roland said that we should just pray and God would heal him so he could continue his work.  After three days, Roland was so weak I thought he might die.  Then I remembered going to the Maya doctor with very similar symptoms.  I knew better than to say anything to Roland, so I called my mother.  Completely unknown to my father, she had found an outlet for herbs and other plants the Maya use for curing illnesses.  She didn’t claim to be an expert, but did know something about a few things that seemed to attack our family most often.

          “Mother offered to come for a visit and bring some of the dried plants.  She arrived by bus the next day.  I used the herbs and plants as Mother instructed and hid them in Roland’s food, his tea, even his eggs for the next few days.  Within a short time, we began seeing a change.  He was actually getting better, but we couldn’t tell him why.

          “Isabelle,” Megan interrupted, “did you know before book club met that I would be talking about a Maya bush doctor?”

          “No, that’s what is so amazing about all this—the dots connecting, so to speak—first my illness, then Roland’s, and then the book, and my coming to hear about it!”

 

          “I’m sorry, Isabelle.  Please go ahead with your story.”

 

          “Mother was such a help to me during her visit.  We never had money for anything other than essentials because Roland used any extra for furthering the work of God as he called it.  Having lived in the mission field, Mother could create most anything out of almost nothing.  We cooked and sewed for the kids, and she read them fairy tales—stories that Roland would never have allowed in the house.

 

On that visit I would often see Mother watching me with a desperate kind of look—as if she wanted to say something.  Then she’d sigh and look away.  Our visit together was wonderful.  Unfortunately, those times were rare.

          “Much of Roland’s ministry was independent of any governing organization.  He didn’t want to be attached to too much power.  He expected his believers to tithe 20% of their income, the women were not to work outside the home and the children had to be home schooled.  Submission of women held supreme ruling in his eyes.  Finally the members dropped out, one family after another.  They were good people, but Roland’s controlling ways were more than they could take.

 

“Roland, out of desperation decided he’d look for a congregation that believed as he did.  He wrote letters to the governing bodies of many religious communities as a way of investigating their beliefs and religious practices.

          “Eventually we had no money to pay the rent.  Roland took a job working as a mechanic in a service station, but was very upset about it.  ‘No man called by God should have to work like this,’ he’d say indignantly.  After about six months, we got a call from a small congregation in eastern Oregon.  We packed our few belongings and moved there in the dead of winter.

           To be continued...