So far so good, Camilla thought as she dared to venture on until a disturbing thought came to mind. She wondered if Henry’s girlfriend’s last name was Sarsky? She and Jeremy had forgotten to ask Grandma Pederson that, that day. At the time, all they wanted to know was if Henry’s girlfriend name was Marjorie and Mary informed them it was Jennifer and at times Henry called her Jenny. They should have asked what Jenny’s last name was.
How would she find out?
She could ask Henry but then, depending on what she discovered still in the box, it might not be necessary. Perhaps she would still be able to learn what her mother’s first name was…
The next item was a letter which would send Camilla into a swirling spiral of confusion.
Camilla began to read a letter addressed to her adoptive parents from the Social Welfare department explaining that the adoption was based upon two conditions. If the child was a girl she would have to be named Camilla, if a boy it would be Henry…HENRY! The name exploded in her mind…she just had to know the mother’s first name!
Camilla quickly scanned the letter she was holding. It didn’t reveal the mothers name, but the next one did…!
It was a form that the mother had signed relinquishing her child for adoption…
Marjorie Jennifer Sarsky.
Tears filled Camilla’s eyes as her mind blitzed through the possibilities; Marjorie was the name her father had written on the slip of paper just before he died and Jennifer was the name that Grandma Pederson said was Henry’s girlfriend.
Did Marjorie Jennifer marry someone named Hamilton? That would explain the name change and was Henry’s girlfriend’s last name, Sarsky? If so, why didn’t he call her Marjorie or…did he prefer to call her by her second name?
And to make it a condition that if it was a boy to name the child ‘Henry’ would seem to indicate that Marjorie wanted to honour the father…Oh, my…
Panic began to zip up and down Camilla’s spine.
Everything seemed to indicate that her worst fears had come true. But Camilla knew this was too important a matter to leave any doubts. She just had to know first and foremost the last name of Henry’s girlfriend. She could ask her father-in-law directly but was afraid to in case Henry was the father…and then what!?
Camilla didn’t dare want to think of the consequences at this point.
It would all be so devastating! How could she possibly tell Jeremy that he might be her half brother!
Oh my God this is so incredibly…terrible!
Anxiety mixed with fear, and dread swept through Camilla. She looked at the clock. It was after five and her son and husband would soon be home.
She had to get a hold of herself.
She started to put the items back in the box and another thought came to her that promised some solace.
Yes, there was one other possibility…Peter!
Where did Peter fit into all this? Why did she feel he might be her father? It felt so right. He looked like her in so many subtle ways. And why does she dream of him in the same scene as the one with the angel holding the baby flying to the lady in the gazebo surrounded by wildflowers?
Oh please let him be the father! The mere thought of Henry being her birth father sent her into a spiraling vortex. The bright, sun-filled kitchen began to dim…
She checked the clock. Jeremy would be home in minutes.
Camilla quickly replaced the remaining items in the strong box, closed it and took it into Joshua’s room. She hid it on the top shelf in the closet and put a teddy bear in front of it.
Just as she returned to the kitchen Jeremy and Joshua came in the front door. Camilla could barely greet either of them; she was in such a state of confusion with so much anxiety and panic filling her spirit. She went to kiss Jeremy trying desperately to keep her emotions in check and looked into his eyes. The thought that he was her brother sent her into a fit of tears. She looked down at Joshua and the close possible blood lines…she gazed back at her alarmed husband and whispered, “Oh, Jeremiah!” before turning to run off to their room.
Jeremy looked on in shock.
Joshua looked up at his dad and asked, “What’s wrong with Mommy, Daddy?”
Chapter Sixty-Three
It was Sunday morning and Father Engelmann was about to give the speech he had prepared for all week. It was like old times to see Father Engelmann and Father Knuka officiate the mass together and it was obvious that both celebrants as well as the parishioners enjoyed seeing them together again.
After Father Knuka read the gospel he informed the congregation how happy he was to have Father Engelmann back as a guest speaker to talk about the needs of care homes. And without any further ado, he went to his seat as Father Engelmann made his way to the pulpit.
Henry always loved to watch Father get ready to deliver his sermon. His unhurried manner seemed to create a positive tension; people usually sat up and became alert. It was as if Father was addressing each one individually; sensing and almost feeling the breath of those present, establishing a special rapport or bond between them. This affinity permeated the air. The presentation was very close and dear to Father’s heart, Henry just knew it would be a godly talk.
“My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, the topic this morning, is something I call ‘The Forgotten People.’ In some cases, they could almost be referred to as ‘The Castaways.’ Who are these people and how and why does this concern you and me?
“Over the years, I have seen many of my parishioners grow old along with me and many of them reach a point where they are ready to move into a care home, either because of sickness, or because they simply don’t want to live alone any longer. Sometimes, it’s because they don’t want to live alone, but sometimes it’s because they can no longer look after their homes or themselves any more. In either case, this becomes a concern not only for themselves, but for their children, relatives, families and in many cases society in general as well.
“It is good to be reminded that we are indeed brothers and sisters in Christ. That we are our brother’s keeper, and that we do have a responsibility to visit the shut-ins and the sickly and the aged. It’s very easy to give money, to pay for the keep of our parents and to let some care home look after them, but to give of our time, to visit or to volunteer, or help out, and the need we all have to serve in this way, is the topic for today’s discussion.
“Perhaps some of the biggest concerns or problems the aged feel when they go into these homes, is that they are no longer needed or have any purpose. They feel old and begin to believe that they have been let out to pasture, where they will graze for awhile and then die. A major symptom that I see in their eyes is loneliness…mainly because the visits from their families are less and less. No one has time, and soon, they become forgotten, perhaps not completely, but for all too many there is no one, and they are truly, completely forgotten.
“There is great sorrow and sadness to walk down the hallways and see many aged staring off into space or sleeping hour after hour. Yes, there are activities and things provided to do, but there is nothing that can replace the human touch, concern and love by coming to visit, developing a relationship and giving of yourself to our seniors.
“The purpose of this talk is not to instill guilt, but to make us all aware and to understand the need that is there and to commit to fill it. Hopefully not out of guilt or a sense of duty, but because of our love, and appreciation of the aged and for what they have done. For all the years while we were growing up, they tended to our cares and needs. And now hopefully we can reciprocate because we realize that it’s now our turn to understand them, their needs, their feelings, and to care for them in any way we can in the twilight of their years.
“They know their time is running out, whereas we have lots of time, we’re young and these thoughts don’t enter our mind, but someday all too soon, we will be where they are, feeling wha
t they feel, thinking about the end, that it is near…they are lonely, all alone, some afraid…forgotten, cast away.
“It is very important to be role models for others and for our children. To show them our responsibility and theirs too. To show our commitment to love and appreciate our parents or relatives or the aged. Our children should see by our actions, not just words that we care and have a responsibility. Someday soon, when our turn comes around, our children will remember what we have done and hopefully come to visit us as well. Remember, we always reap what we sow. Plant the seed now, today. What goes around, comes around…don’t be one of the ‘forgotten ones.’
“When we were young, who was always there for us? Protecting us, consoling us, buying our clothes, caring for us until we were old enough? And even then, did it stop? No, we still had wants, needs and fears. And once again in our teenage years and even beyond when we may have had troubles with marriage, or boyfriends, or school or our job, who was there ready to support and bail us out? Now it’s our turn and unfortunately where are so many of us now? Too busy, no time? Many times, they had no time as well, but they made time, they didn’t abandon us. No, they made us their priority. Are we making them our priority now?”
Father hesitated, he looked across the sea of faces before him with a penetrating gaze, allowing the parishioners to look deep within themselves and to answer the question he just posed. And then he went on…
“The aged have lived a full life. They have been around the track over and over again and they have learned a thing or two from life, from their failures and their successes. We don’t have to invent the wheel over and over again. We can learn from their wisdom and their mistakes. They are not too senile. A mother is always there to give chicken soup from the heart, and a father, his wisdom and know-how, too. The aged are a huge resource of knowledge and understanding. Never forget that or take it for granted or discount it. They have time to listen, to give, to be there for us and it will always come from the heart.
“All too often I witness nurses, caregivers, or children talk condescendingly towards their elderly parents as if they knew better or knew what was good for them. For many seniors they have lived through more, seen more, forgotten more than the young will ever know. Always respect your elders and their wisdom. Just like you wanted to be treated as an equal as you grew up, so, too do seniors in their declining years want to be treated that way and to feel that they are needed.
“Can you imagine how good it makes one feel to be needed or that they can help? Isn’t that better than to feel you are no longer useful to anyone, no longer needed, that you can’t help anymore, that you’re too old, getting senile, ‘out of the loop’ as they say?
“My dear brothers and sisters visit the aged, share with them, talk about your real concerns, not just surface talk, but real talk, as if you were talking to a friend. You may be pleasantly surprised by the sincere response and care you will receive, the wisdom you may learn. And most of all, the deep friendship you will establish. Some of the best friends I have made are in the care home. They have helped me immeasurably, and you just may find that you will look forward to your visits with them more than they do.
“So my friends, whether or not you have parents or relatives in a care home, or living alone in their own home, this applies to all of you and your children. Parents love to see their grandchildren and are so proud of them. They love to see a friendly face come into their room or their home week after week. They love to know that they are still remembered and cared for. And when we think about it, isn’t that what all of us want…to be loved? So, don’t forget the aged. The benefits will be immeasurable. You will be richly blessed. In them you will find a trusted friend, a counselor, a grandfather or grandmother you never had but wished you had. You will also find wisdom, understanding and love.”
And then Father went on to explain about the idea for the monthly newsletter, and the need for volunteers and businesses to come forward who could help. He pointed out the need for such a newsletter, to continually keep in the fore the aged, the sick and the needy, that they not be forgotten. Such a newsletter would give families and volunteers ideas about how to make their visits fruitful and meaningful. What to talk about, games to play, books to read to them, how to offer to get supplies for them, and how to involve them in outings and family life.
Father finished by blessing all the people and asking once again for volunteers. That they search their hearts for the Lord’s calling to help out in this worthy cause and if not, that they would set aside some time to visit.
Henry remained on the sidelines in the aftermath of Father Engelmann’ speech to the parishioners at St. Mary’s, for forty-five minutes, Father was showered with praise and glory for his work with the elderly, and bombarded with questions from those who wanted to volunteer. Eventually the crowd dispersed and Henry took Father to the café for breakfast.
Once they’d placed their breakfast orders, Henry asked Father how it felt being such a hero and so admired.
“Oh, Henry, it’s not for me, but for God’s glory.”
“That must be so hard to do, Father. I’m sure you receive compliments and praise every day. How do you keep it from swelling your ego?”
“You mean, keep it from going to my head?” Father smiled. “It is a difficult thing to deal with and one of the paradoxes of human life. Our purpose is to love and serve our Lord and others, and yet by nature we are self-centred. We so much want praise and glory, to be recognized, to meet our needs and act always in our best interests. If our Lord had not given us a free will, it would have been so much easier. He could have made us to love and serve, but then we would be like robots. No, God made us free to choose and to serve him and others, and we must choose to do so. We must daily die to ourselves and our needy flesh.”
“Do you mean it is never over? Surely you have won the battle. You’re the most humble man I know.”
“Ssh, Henry. No man is free from sin except our Lord. It is over when we take our dying breath. Our ego can never be defeated try as we might to bridle or bury it. Some days we are a flower revealing God’s glory, but in the shadows of the petals a weed is always lurking to steal some of the sunshine for itself.
“Each night I try to rid myself of praise or accolades, but in the stillness of the night when the mind is quiet and asleep, it is the heart which is closer to God than our mind that speaks and reveals our sin. Just when we think we are there and have won the battle, a truth pierces the darkness and we realize that the sin of pride has its roots even in excessive attempts to be humble.”
“Then you are damned if you do and damned if you don’t,” Henry blurted out seeing the folly of it all.
“It is good for you to see that I am not perfect. There is a little of the Pharisees in all of us. We may think we are holy and pure and free of sin, yet all the while we walk in the dirt of this earth. Pride, is the curse of our first parents. As I have said over and over, Henry, we must daily acknowledge our sinful and weak nature and become completely dependent upon Him. Only when we are aware of how far we fall short can we truly seek his strength and become an instrument of his peace. It is the only way.”
Henry fell into a deep silence, not knowing what to say. Even Father’s admission of being a sinner was so admirable and lovable. Father could so easily hide behind his good works and sit in judgment of the pitiless creatures around him who fell time and again, and yet in his weakness he gave hope. It suddenly occurred to Henry just how total honesty of oneself could bring greater comfort to others, than just revealing the saintly side.
Father continued as if reading Henry’s mind. “It’s important not to complicate this, Henry, and give up. We are human and we are far from perfect, but we are all children of God and He loves us despite our failings.” Then, bringing his hands together and cupping them as if holding a heart he added, “Harden not your heart. Keep it soft, pliable so the Lord can keep
working on us. The sooner we realize that we need His strength and place Him in the driver’s seat we go into a direction that will fill us with peace. His vision is crystal clear; when we drive, the windshields are always murky and we weave off the path, get stuck and many times—”
“Yeah, I know…fall into the ditch.”
An expression of joy promenaded over his face. “Oh, Henry, you know me too well.” Father chuckled and then added, “Everything I have, including my very existence, is from the Lord. My purpose while on this earth is to use these gifts to serve, love and honour Him. Whenever I receive praise, I always repeat to myself, ‘not for me, Oh Lord, not for me, but glory to your name.’ And even the pride that is in that statement I offer to Him. St. Francis’ prayer of peace recognizes the path the Lord wants to lead us on.”
“Yes, it’s such a beautiful prayer and, you’re right, it is a perfect guide. Where there is hatred, despair, darkness, doubt we should bring peace, faith, light and hope—”
“Yes, yes, with the strength of the Lord within us we can do that. We can seek to console and understand rather than be consoled or understood. For it is in giving that we receive—”
“It is in pardoning that we are pardoned—” Henry chimed in and then almost in unison they said, “And in dying that we are born to eternal life.” They stared at one another and laughed.
After reveling in that delightful moment for a time, Father said, “I say that prayer at least four times a day and sometimes more. I can never be reminded enough of my purpose. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, the key to all this—”
“…is starting one’s day in the right frame of mind,” Henry concluded. “Meditate, be still and hear Him speak, read the Bible, fill my mind with His words, His energy, His strength and then I will be focused and ready for the day and prepared to carry out St. Francis’s guideline to peace.”
The Angelic Occurrence Page 59
