Twist of Faith Read online

  “The doctors didn’t realize it, but he has been hemorrhaging in his head through the night. He doesn’t have long.”

  We left right away and proceeded to get a speeding ticket in every state from Texas to Georgia. The first cop who pulled us over said he would radio ahead. I guess that didn’t happen, because each time we got pulled over, no one knew what we were talking about. We raced along in that little brown Toyota station wagon, and it shimmied the whole way, shaking back and forth as soon as we got up over 55 miles per hour.

  Every two hours we stopped for gas and called Mom to see how Daddy was doing.

  “He’s not getting better,” she’d say. By the sound of her voice, she wasn’t doing very well, either.

  “Mom, tell him we’re coming.”

  “I’m not in the room with him,” she said quietly. “I feel so alone, and I don’t know what to do.”

  When we got to the hospital, we raced inside. But he was gone. He’d died an hour before we got there, and we were devastated. Shocked. An awful numbness began setting in. Why hadn’t we come last night? Why hadn’t we gone faster? Why didn’t we leave earlier that morning? Why did Daddy have to die alone in a room in that strange hospital in a faraway city?

  We all decided to just continue driving up to Pennsylvania for the funeral. Eventually everyone got there—we three sisters and Carl arrived from Atlanta, the rest of our families from Texas, and the three brothers who had been desperately driving from Pennsylvania to Atlanta, trying to get there before Daddy died.

  We got to Mom and Dad’s house in Lancaster County around 11:30 that night. Mom’s sisters were all there, and they made dinner for us. We shared that meal together in a bonding sort of sadness, finished eating just after midnight, and then tried to get some sleep. For those who couldn’t sleep, there were extended family members visiting throughout the night, and I was reminded of how strong the family bonds were in our hometown. I felt such good closure just being there, having family around us, supporting us. And I felt very blessed to have had that time with Daddy at the steakhouse.

  We buried Daddy right beside Angie. The cold felt bitter, and it was raining or sleeting or something wet and miserable. It was the first time we were all together in seven years, the first time since we had that blowup in Mom and Dad’s house with Pastor parked in the driveway. Our togetherness at that point brought me great hope for the future, even amid the sadness that came with Daddy’s passing.

  I thought of our last meeting, and I felt so glad to know that he still loved me and forgave me. We all sang together the same song we’d sung at Angie’s burial: “Daddy won’t have to worry anymore.”

  Daddy’s funeral represented many things to me and helped bring about a healing in our family that could have taken much longer. That togetherness also helped me to realize that I was truly forgiven—the more time we spent together, the more comfortable and accepted I felt because no one was condemning me; no one was trying to make me feel bad for my past.

  But there was still one person who didn’t forgive me. One person who held me responsible for everything that had happened, one person who continued insisting that I would have to pay for everything I’d done. I couldn’t argue with that person, at least not successfully, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t get that person to stop whispering to me, “You are a failure, you are a bad person, you have been a terrible mother.”

  Of course, that person was me. I was the only person who refused to forgive.

  And then another funeral. Another passing. And another revelation.

  1995, 1996, 1997—those years challenged me as I tried to cope with a company expanding at an unbelievable rate, the guilt of my past, and two daughters with so many issues of their own for which I felt responsible. At the root of my insecurity was my relationship with them—I often felt that if only I would have been a better mother during their early years, perhaps they would not have gotten involved in the trouble they did. I felt like a complete failure and couldn’t even remember those years in the late ’70s and early ’80s. Those were such formative years for my little girls, and I couldn’t remember anything about them. But then God decided it was time for me to begin the final process of forgiving myself.

  Jonas’s mother passed away in May 1998, the end of a long, long journey for her. There was the viewing, then the funeral, and after it all we came together as a family and supported one another. During the following days we would often congregate at Jonas’s father’s house, just hanging out with whoever came by, looking through his mother’s old things and reminiscing.

  One day we went into her room to clean up and sort through some of the things that Jonas’s father wanted to give to the children. I opened a drawer and found a couple of boxes, the white, very thin cardboard clothing boxes used to gift-wrap things. When I opened the boxes, I found envelopes absolutely stuffed full, some nearly bursting. I pulled the boxes out onto her bed and looked a little closer.

  The envelopes each had a year, or time period, written on the front in her handwriting, and as I started looking through them, I realized she had kept every single letter I wrote while we lived in Texas! All of the Christmas cards, birthday cards, letters from the girls, letters from me—everything sat there in those boxes.

  “Dear Mom and Pop,” they all began, “greetings of love from all of us.”

  “TO GRUSSMUMMY,” began a small plain postcard in a child’s all-capital writing, “HI. I LOVE YOU. HOW ARE YOU FEELING? I LIKE TEXAS. LAWONNA LYN.”

  “Tell Grussdaddy,” said another one, “that I said hi. We like Texas. I love you.”

  “On Tuesday,” I wrote in a letter dated October 25, 1977, “I made some soft sugar cookies and by the time I was finished I didn’t have many left. LaWonna was delivering cookies to all the neighbors and she was enjoying every minute of it. I was happy cause she was so happy giving those cookies away . . . She found some friends across the road that she plays with quite a bit . . .”

  “LaVale is doing okay,” I wrote in another letter, “as active as ever and cute as a button these days. She is starting to say a lot of words and an awful lot of jabbering. LaWonna is doing fine and still loves school. It’s only four weeks until Christmas . . .”

  “I got LaVale off the bottle and she didn’t hardly even miss it! I am so thankful. LaWonna was in a Christmas parade down here. She belongs to a group called the Bluebirds and their group marched in the parade. She was so tickled to be able to do that . . .”

  “To Grusmommy, I love you. I am Getting Me ShotS On TueSday—Thank You For all The letters. LaWonna.”

  And then in the early ’80s LaVale’s little letters started showing up.

  “Dear Grussmommy, I’m at Loyd’s now and I’m sick with Viruse. How are you? I’m fine now. Have you been sick? What is Grussdouty doing? I’m hoping to get a letter from you. Love you. From LaVale.”

  The letters went on and on, each one a snapshot of the years my mind had blocked out, so many little reminders that I’d been a good mother to my girls during those years, even when I had felt terrible about myself. I read through those letters and began to feel something changing inside of me. I didn’t recognize it at the time, but I was finding the grace to forgive myself.

  I’ve seen forgiveness complete its healing work in the lives of my husband, Jonas, and our two daughters, LaWonna and LaVale. Both of our girls have discovered the power of grace and forgiveness through their own experiences with abuse. Despite all they went through when their innocence was taken away from them as children, the choices they made as a result of their pain and anger caused them to become women of great compassion. They don’t see themselves as victims but rather as conquorers, and they live their lives with purpose and meaning. Moreover, their experiences have given them an exceptional ability to forgive.

  LaVale is the proud mom of Cristian, the little boy who was so honest with me about his unhappiness when I sold Auntie Anne’s. He is the love of her life and was our first grandchild. Cristian
is a gift to our family. LaVale decided to further her education and is going to college to get her degree. God has redeemed her from a life of self-destruction, and she has discovered that God is in her corner and has a plan for her life. She has a passion to help those who have been used and abused and wants to make a difference in her world.

  LaWonna also worked through her abuse and is not only a survivor but truly an overcomer. She now has a family of her own and lives a very full life with her husband, Russ, and their three children, Trinity, Ryan, and Mia. She has the capacity to be compassionate toward those who are suffering with issues of abuse. She loves deeply and forgives quickly.

  During my years at Auntie Anne’s, when I started to slip back into feelings of guilt and depression and hopelessness, I bought a condo in Sarasota. I needed a place to escape to, a place where I could get away from the business and the worries and even my own family at times. Ironically, that place that gave me the isolation I craved has turned into a meeting place where every other year all of my brothers and sisters and all of our husbands and wives, as well as my mother, converge for a time just to hang out.

  Sixteen of us, all sharing the common bonds of family, all having at some time or other worked at Auntie Anne’s or owned an Auntie Anne’s location. They say you should never work with family. Well, I can’t say we didn’t have our share of major disagreements and painful arguments. I can’t say we never hurt each other with our words or decisions, because we did, sometimes in a big way that left loads of frustration and disappointment in its wake. But I can say that we still get together every month for a sibling meeting and share our lives. I can say we take trips together and laugh until our bellies ache. I can say that we still support each other through everything. What else needs to be said?

  About a year ago I went down to the condo to start this book, and at some point I found myself just walking the beach. The sun was almost invisible behind low gray clouds, and a strong wind whipped up the sand so it stung my legs and sometimes even my face. I carried my sandals, walking barefoot, leaning forward into the wind. Thinking back on my life, the twists and turns it had taken, I felt truly amazed that I was whole. Sometimes even now I cannot believe how high the highs were, or how low the lows—emotionally I went to the very brink of hell and back and felt the forces of evil pulling me, trying to force me over the edge, almost to the point of suicide. Yet somehow I am now thrilled to live this life, feeling that each day is one to be enjoyed. I feel like a new person.

  God’s grace and forgiveness are what got me through it all. Today when I think about forgiveness, I wonder, Have I forgiven others as I have been forgiven? Sometimes my old hurts begin to throb and I feel the emotions of anger and depression. It’s during these moments that I think about Jesus and what he said while dying on the cross surrounded by his accusers and executioners. “Father, forgive them.”

  This statement has become a lifestyle for me, and the benefit is a life of joy. Many times I even feel happy because I know now that “life is hard but God is good,” and I try not to confuse the two. Happiness is a choice I can make when life is hard, but the joy I have in my soul is permanent.

  I have been forgiven much. In the past I would go to Angie’s grave and flash back to the pain and grief of her death and the life I was trapped in. I would feel paralyzed with anxiety and pain. Today when I visit her grave, I think back to my past and realize that the path I travelled made me who I am. I know I have conquered and I am free at last! I no longer feel the need to even the score or get revenge.

  Forgiveness has transformed me: each time I visit Angie, I feel more and more at peace, appreciating the life God brought me through. Now I understand that “out of my pain, my passion was born.” Redemption could only complete its work when I began to forgive.

  To describe the power of forgiveness and its effects on my life would require a book of its own, yet even then I couldn’t cover everything that forgiveness has done in my life. To forgive, and be forgiven, has given me the kind of life that I never could have imagined or thought was possible this side of heaven. Forgiveness has become my lifestyle, and the benefits for this life are many: health, happiness, and peace of mind, to name just a few.

  There was a time when I thought I could never experience a healthy, happy marriage, but I have that now. There was a time when the idea of having fulfilling relationships with my daughters seemed impossible, but the three of us have never been closer. Confession, forgiveness, and a willingness to sort through my story gave me the keys to unlocking my past, giving me hope for my future with those I love most: my family.

  As I stood in the wind and heard the waves that day in Florida, I reflected on my past, amazed at how different I felt compared to my first few visits to that beach in 1995. The waves crashed. The ocean stretched out farther than I could see, immense and unstoppable. I thought about how much bigger that ocean was than me and how, if I let it, it could just sweep right over me and carry me away. If I just threw myself in, I would not be able to resist it.

  God’s forgiveness is an ocean.

  Acknowledgments

  Writing a book has been a dream since 1975 when our daughter Angela took her flight to heaven. I suppose most of us think of writing a book after we experience tragedy or traumatic events that alter the path we are on. Disappointments in life make us or break us, and if it wasn’t for the love and support I have received through the years, I would have become broken beyond repair. I wrote this book for people who need hope, and I pray you have found it in the pages of my story.

  I have been forgiven “seventy times seven” by a loving God, my husband, my children, and my friends. Because I have been forgiven, I have been able to forgive those who hurt me. It has been a very long journey, but experiencing forgiveness has given me great peace.

  I owe my gratitude to a number of people, but first and foremost I will say that the grace and love of my heavenly Father have sustained me. He has given me faith and courage when I thought I couldn’t face another day. He has redeemed me and made my life more than I ever dreamed was possible! To him I say, “Thank you.”

  My family, what can I say? My dear husband, Jonas, has been my rock and was the one person in my life who loved me unconditionally. He was the man who loved me in a way that all of us want to be loved. Through all of my sin, despair, and depression he stayed with me; and quietly, day in and day out, year after year, he stayed committed to our family. Words of gratitude are difficult to express and I simply say, “I respect you, dear, and thank you.”

  My three daughters are a constant reminder of the miracle of life, and to be a mother is my highest calling in this life. You are a precious and priceless gift to me. Angela is the one among us who has “arrived.” It is because of her short life of less than two years that I have experienced the depth and height of sadness and joy. I believe she has prayed many perfect prayers for me and my family and stands among the greatest as fulfilling her purpose for this life. “A little child will lead them” (Isaiah 11:6 NLT). Her life here on earth and in heaven is a strong influence for us to fulfill our purpose while we travel planet Earth and then to join her where she lives. Angela, you are my traveling buddy, my “Angel.”

  LaWonna Lyn, our firstborn, and Joy LaVale, our third and youngest, are a constant source of support, love, and encouragement. Through the years you have been directly impacted by all my “craziness.” You have had your own struggles as you watched and experienced the lies and deceits that were unspoken yet very real in our home. You have experienced the death and resurrection of our family, and through it all you have given me not what I deserved, but what I needed, love and grace. You have seen the power of God as he has kept us and never let us go. I love you more than life, and you both are “so beautiful to me.” You gave me a reason to stay when I wanted to run; I had to be with you, and today I am. All the pain and frustration couldn’t separate us, and it’s because you loved me and I loved you. Love is a powerful force, and where love is m
iracles happen. I am a proud mom, and I see God in you every day.

  Russ, my son-in-law. You bring laughter and life to us on a daily basis. Thank you for the three beautiful grandchildren you have blessed us with: Trinity, Ryan, and Mia. They are the joy of my life.

  Cristian, my oldest grandson. You came into our lives when we needed a baby to hold, and you are a “little man of integrity.” I am proud of you.

  My mom, who at the age of eighty-seven, still wants to do things for me. She is always available to help anytime I ask. Thank you for allowing me to be in your kitchen when I was a little girl. You never complained when it got messy.

  I have five brothers and two sisters who have loved, accepted, and supported me in unbelievable ways. Their tolerance and love for me can only be described as “It’s just what families do.” They have been kind and loved me since I was a little girl on the farm, and that same love and support has carried me through Auntie Anne’s and beyond.

  Jake, the oldest. Thank you for coming all the way to Texas during one of the darkest days of my life just to support me and later to become one of the team at Auntie Anne’s. You were also one of our first franchisees.

  Sam, better known to us as “Chub.” Thank you for being the first one to connect with me after six long years of silence. I wanted to end it all. You said you would call me once a week until I was doing better, and you did.

  Dale. You left your secure job and plunged into Auntie Anne’s as the “warehouse guy.” You did anything that was needed to meet our ever-growing warehouse needs. Today you are still at Auntie Anne’s managing a multimillion-dollar warehouse. You’re like the Energizer bunny. Thank you.

  Merrill, you were our very first “delivery boy” at Auntie Anne’s and one of our first franchisees. Those were the days, right? Through the years you have been my inspiration, my encourager, and now my pastor. Thank you.