Maggie's Baptism

My sister-in-law, Maggie Smith Shumaker, has written three other guest blogs. For today's blog, I asked her to tell the story of her own baptism. For those of us born and raised in the Oregon City FOC group, the decision to be baptized is not an easy one. Please read on to understand the emotional and spiritual struggle that is typical of those who have left this group with so many unanswered questions.

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I think the first conversation I can recollect about baptism with an adult was my mom telling me there would be a way made for us younger ones that were not baptized. I think I was 11 or 12 because I was given a thin black King James New Testament and I had been reading it at night in bed. All this reading about baptism, and I didn't understand why or how or when someone would get baptized.

We sang songs at church about being washed in the blood of the lamb, so I thought baptism would wash me clean. I needed to be cleaned from all the lies I told and how mean I was to my friends.  We sang about gathering at the river, and I dreaded having to go into a river in my church clothes. I was told about a "tank" in a storage room where we played as kids. I couldn't see it, but I'd heard people talk about it. That's where the preacher had baptized other people. But no one used it anymore. No one was allowed to baptize anyone else. I was scared to think about having to go into that tank.

The next conversation I can remember was with a friend's mother, at her house, in her dining room. Not sure of the age, I believe I was driving age, but could have been about 14. I'm not sure what happened to spark the topic, but she assured my friend and I that we could possibly be baptized in the rain. God could do anything, and with His power, the rain would make us clean.  I asked, "So, we could be baptized and not even know it?" she assured me, God had that power. I didn't doubt that power, I knew He was powerful and I was scared to death of Him coming back at the end of time.

In 1993, I started a relationship with my best friend. He talked about baptism, wanting to be baptized so badly. I hadn't thought about it much just that I knew I should be. There was no way to be baptized in our church. My companion prayed for it daily. He prayed for a preacher to baptize him. So, I joined him in praying. We were married and then had two children.

Within a few years, I believed the same as my companion. I earnestly wanted to be baptized. There wasn't a way for us in the church we attended to be baptized. If Jesus were baptized, then I should be too. If He didn't care if people were baptized, He wouldn't have instructed them to do so.

He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned. And these signs shall follow them that believe; In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues; They shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover.
Mark 16:16-18

In 1999, this led us in our search for a church. We left in search of the "right church" with someone that that could baptize us. We went all of 750 miles away to a place called Idaho Falls for my husband's job. We searched for churches that believed in full submersion baptism, like they did in the Bible.

"Let's go there." I said, as we drove past Gethsemane Baptist. "They believe we need to be baptized." I added.

We attended Gethsemane for several months, but the preacher there would not baptize me. I was supposed to be born again, saved, and knew for sure I was going to heaven BEFORE he would allow me to be baptized. We couldn't take part in the Lord's Supper until we were baptized. “Well, I'll never believe that...no one can know that they're going to Heaven for sure." I'm doomed!  The more I heard of it, the more I believed that I was saved. Jesus actually died on the cross to pay for the sins of everyone on the planet, so that meant me! I prayed with a lady at church, told my husband, "I believe I'm saved, and I don't care what you think." Wow...what a Godly example!  It took me awhile to believe this for real, as I still couldn't believe that would keep me out of hell, and promise me eternity in Heaven. We kept attending until we found something more along the lines of our beliefs.

A few months later, and a much longer story, we started attending Followers of Christ in Marsing, ID. By March 2001, after my husband had been baptized there, I knew this was where I was going to be baptized.

It wasn't a hot day, but warm and sunny. Church was warm, but again, I was eight months pregnant with my daughter. The last song was called, and we all stood, I was filled with excitement that if they were going to ask for people to give their hearts to Jesus, I would be one of them. I wanted to live for Jesus for the rest of my life, and by living for Jesus, it meant I get to be baptized. Something I'd wanted for about eight years. The time had come, they gave the invitation to give them your hand, and give your heart to Jesus Christ. I smiled at my husband, and he patted my back. I walked up to the pulpit, after about two or three had already gone up. I stood up there, shaking, crying, so elated that I was going to get to be baptized, and have the pureness of what my husband had.

I believe, if I remember correctly, there were 13 baptized that afternoon. It was a beautiful day. We lined up around the water at a couple's house that had lots of property. It was private, and a natural spring, that didn't freeze over in the winter. Everyone sang a song, and watched as each person walked into the water, and was baptized by the preacher that dunked them under and rose them up again. Then, it was my turn. I was very seriously praying that God would help me feel "something". I wasn't sure what it would feel like, but I wanted some feeling.

As I stood there, chilled by the cool water, up to my chest, I bowed my head as the preacher prayed. I kept praying for God to let me feel something. I think I was more concerned about "feeling" something than anything. I don't know why.  I can't remember the exact words, since I was praying in my head, but the preacher said something like "Sister Maggie, I baptize you in the name of the father, the son, and the holy ghost." (I think)

As I went down under the water, with my eyes closed, and brought back up, I saw a brightness. It was like I could see the sky but couldn't make anything out but light. Then, I was upright again, and so happy. I went to meet my husband at the shore and he wrapped me in a blanket.

There were more that day, and when everyone that wanted to be baptized was done, there was meeting more people, "greeting" them, as they came to greet me with a holy kiss. Now I was baptized, and COULD greet people that were also baptized.

After we left the property where the baptisms were, we went back to my cousin's for a potluck. Then, later that evening, we went back to the church for the Lord's Supper and foot washing. As tradition, every time there is baptism, there is a meeting with the supper and foot washing. I'd experienced this when my husband was baptized. It was beautiful and I wanted to partake of it so badly, but when he was baptized, I was not. I couldn't join. All I could do was sing the songs they called out as the feet were being washed.

Before the supper and foot washing, they had all that were baptized that day sit up on the pulpit. There was the laying on of hands to do before we could move forward. The giving of the Holy Spirit. As both preachers approached me, and put their hands on my head, I closed my eyes as they prayed. I just prayed for a "feeling". I wanted to feel like I'd been struck by the hand of God himself as that Holy Spirit went into me and lived inside me.

We all sat back down, and put our coats on.  John 13:4: “He riseth from supper, and laid aside his garments; and took a towel, and girded himself.” If He laid aside His garment, He had taken something off. We used coats to signify a garment.

So, the preachers stood on the pulpit and blessed the bread that symbolized Jesus body. They broke the big pieces of bread that had been made earlier that afternoon and placed the pieces on a tray.

They blessed the wine after pouring it in a large stein.  The Elders passed a tray of unleavened bread and we took a piece and ate it. Then came a large stein of wine. We took a sip and passed it on to the next person. After we took the supper, we removed our coat.

When everyone had partaken of the Lord's Supper, the woman gathered at the front of the building, and the men at the back of the building, as in line to have their feet washed.

After that he poureth water into a bason, and began to wash the disciples' feet, and to wipe them with the towel wherewith he was girded.

John 13:5

Each woman, (where I was sitting and could see) would wrap a towel around themselves and drape part of it over their shoulder. One woman sitting on a bench, and one kneeled down by the pan of water. The woman kneeled would wash the feet of the woman sitting, then dry her feet with the towel. They'd both stand, greet one another, and then gird the woman that just got her feet washed with the towel, and the process would repeat until all the women had partaken of the foot washing. Sometimes, women would have to have their feet washed twice, so another could wash feet.

When the foot washing was over, service ended with a song and a prayer and we all dispersed at about 11:30 pm or later. This was about a 6 hour meeting.

It wasn't too much after this that we moved from Idaho Falls, to Nampa, ID and regularly attended this church. Nine months after moving to a place I'd thought I'd live the rest of my life, my husband moved us to WA for his job. I thought this was the end of my world, it was not a good move for me....I thought.

Little did I know, moving away from there at that time, was probably the best thing for our family's life. I believe that Jesus Christ exists outside of Marsing, ID. Something I had started to forget living in Nampa.  There are believers in Christ all over this world, and I was put on a street with one of the most faithful followers of them all.  She invited me to her women's group, learning the scripture of Titus 2. Wow...women teaching other women how to love their husband and children! This is totally what I need right now! 

News of this did not go over well with some women in ID. But, I believed it was making me a better wife, and mother, and it was biblical. Some called these women "unbelievers" saying I was being unequally yoked. They hadn't met these women, how did they know? They looked the same as the women in ID. Long hair, wore dresses exclusively, made their own bread and clothes soap...I was saddened by their false accusations of them being unbelievers. I'd never seen a woman's bible so worn than in this small group of devoted followers of Christ!

Since then, my views of baptism have changed, and are more aligned to the Word of God. I no longer believe that it washes away your sins. Just as I was told in Idaho Falls, by the pastor at Gethsemane Baptist, it doesn't even clean between your toes.  I do not believe one has to be baptized by a certain man in a certain church. I do not believe that if one is baptized it entitles them to special privileges that un-baptized people are not privy to. I would encourage any believer to be baptized, as Jesus did, but if you die knowing He forgives you of your sins, and you follow him closely, do not fear that you will be burning in Hell for eternity. God does not work that way.

Forgiveness of sin is accepting Jesus as the one and only sacrifice for the sins of the world and allowing Him to dwell in your heart, with His power, gifting you with the Holy Spirit that "saves" you from being a sinner, from the darkness of the world, having your name written in the book of life, forever in the palm of His hand, that nothing can pluck you from.

My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me:  And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand.  My Father, which gave them me, is greater than all; and no man is able to pluck them out of my Father's hand.

John 10:27-29

"Thank you Lord, for opening our eyes to the truth of your word, and instilling it in our hearts to never be swayed again. In Jesus name" 

Seeking A Medical Opinion

My sister-in-law Maggie Smith Shumaker has written two previous guest blogs: WhatMy Family Thinks, and Maggie’s Story, Part 2. In today’s entry, Maggie tells the story of taking her newborn son to a doctor.

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Here we were, raising our two boys, and just weeks into our second son's life, I discovered a bulge in his groin. This was common among Follower families, (at least mine). My nephew had something similar prior to his return home from my parent's house after his birth. My sister, her husband, and their new baby lived at our home for what seemed like months...it maybe wasn't that long. 

From what I remember about my son's experience, I called my mom, she told me to call my sister. My sister came over, and could find nothing wrong. The lump wasn't there. She said to keep an eye on it. Seemed like every time I had to change his diaper, it was there, and whenever I tried to show someone, it wasn't. My sister told me to call another woman in the church that had more experience with this condition. So, I made the phone call. She wasn't able to come over, since her child had chicken pox, but she told me some suggestions.

After describing what this lady told me, with my husband, he suggested taking our son to a doctor. WHAT?  Really? He wanted me to go to a doctor? Whoa...

But his explanation was spot on. He said that instead of calling a bunch of women that don't have knowledge of what this was, to take him to someone that did have knowledge. What was the difference in calling a bunch of different think so ideas than finding the real reason behind it.

We talked about where we'd go from there. If the doctor said he'd need surgery, we'd think about that option, but wouldn't do anything without praying about it first. Let's just find out first.       

I made an appointment at the Health Office in Oregon City. I was nervous, but had been there as a child with my own mother, getting some type of lotion for a rash my sister and I had. Once the appointment had been made, I asked my mom if she'd come with me to take him there, since my husband had to be at work. She turned her nose up at the idea, and said she didn't want to go with me. She did not support us taking our son to the health department, but she took my sister and I? I was confused. What was the difference of a rash we had, or a lump that my son occasionally had?

My mother-in-law and sister-in-law babysat my oldest son while I took the baby to the health department alone. I'm not sure why my mother-in-law didn't come, but it wasn't because she opposed it. My husband's family supported doing the right thing.

While at the doctor’s office, I was asked all kinds of questions about my baby. Who was his doctor, where is his shot record, did he have a PKU test? They made me strip my newborn and put him on a scale. They weren't very loving or friendly about it either. The nurses made a big deal about him having a hernia and he'd have to have surgery. They were kind of mean to me and intimidating because my newborn didn't have a pediatrician. When the friendly, male doctor arrived in the room, he put me at ease with a smile, and examined my baby. "Oh, this is a...." He explained. To this day I can't remember the name he used, but described it as fluid buildup. It was not a hernia like the nurse insisted it was. He did NOT need surgery.

The doctor said he'd seen it lots, and it typically goes away on its own in about a year's time. He said by the time my baby was walking, we would not even notice it. The doctor left, and the nurse stopped me in the hall and asked who delivered my baby. They then attempted to take a PKU test. She ripped his sock off and tried poking his heel.  I was disgruntled, and grabbed the sock back and covered his feet with his blanket as I walked out to the car.

By this time, my son was screaming. We had not gotten off on a very good nursing habit and he was hungry and upset at all of this commotion. I was practically in tears. I tried nursing him in the car, but he would have no part of it. I put him back in his car seat, screaming all the way home. What a nightmare.

But, thankfully, we could rest in the fact that it was not life threatening, he wouldn't sustain any harm from whatever this was, and eventually, it would go away. This could be a long first year...

In our experiences, with sickness and injuries, we anointed with olive oil. So, after sharing with my husband the prognosis of our son's affliction, he told me to anoint him every day and we'll pray that he's healed. So, we did just that. When my husband cared for him, he'd anoint him, when I cared for him, I would anoint him. It didn't seem to bother our baby, but we kept on even when we didn't see the big bulge. Faithfully, every day, we anointed him, praying for healing in Jesus’ name.

It seemed like the right thing to do...pray for someone that was afflicted, injured, or sick. We all met over at my mother's bedside praying for her, as she lay in bed afflicted with the swollen belly. She had been down for what seemed to be a couple of weeks, and our baby was probably a month old or better. While my sisters and I were in her room, visiting, I explained to them we'd like them to pray for our baby. I told them what was the matter, but leaving out the part that I'd "taken him in". My oldest sister rose up out of her chair, and loudly voiced her opinion of no, she would not pray for him, as we'd taken him to a doctor. Her words to my knowledge were, "Oh, you take him to a doctor and THEN want us to PRAY for him?" as she stormed out of my mother's bedroom.

Wow! I sat in awe. I was speechless! How can one say they are a follower of Christ and deny prayer to another humbly asking? My mom just laid there, shocked at her daughter's response.  I can't even remember what happened after that.

I believe our son was about three months old, when we noticed the last few times we had anointed him, we didn't see any bulge.  I'm not sure if it got smaller over time, or what, but he was not nearly one year old when this fluid buildup was gone. Our prayers had been answered, he had been healed. We thanked God for his mercy with our son.

Imagine, God having mercy on someone who went to a doctor. God is good, and we believed that.

Maggie's Story - Part Two

Last week, my sister-in-law, Maggie Smith Shumaker, wrote about her experience with my marriage to a “worldly person.” This week, Maggie writes about the birth of her first child, just four months after my jailbreak.

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November 27th came, and I woke up needing my mom. We drove over to my mom and dad's house, expecting my labor to pick up and birth this baby that was making me feel like a bus had parked itself in my lap. The day dragged on and on, the house filled with my grandmothers, aunts, sisters, his brother's wife, and the labor completely stopped. No pain, no cramps, so instead of going home, we just went to bed that night, in my mom and dad's room. Settling down around 10:35pm, Oh boy! "MOM" I yelled, he went and got her. I needed to deliver this baby! Oh the pain! Oh make it stop!

His mom had just pulled into her driveway, got into bed, and the phone rang...she was being summoned to the birth of her grandbaby. I hoped she wouldn't call Suzanne, I didn't want her around. She just caused problems for me and my own sisters. The midwives were called back, and I got to push for eleven and a half hours. Finally, at 11:35 am, this large, "boy" appeared in my husband's arms.

His head was pointy. I'd never witnessed a birth. I had no idea what was next, what was expected of me, other than the books that I checked out from the library the day I had the positive test in my hand. What To Expect When You’re Expecting did not prepare me for eleven and a half hours of pushing, and nor did it say my eyelashes and fingernails would hurt. But, our family had been born. All 9 lbs. 15 oz, & 22 1/2 inches of him. There is still debate on my husband's part that the scale actually said 10 lbs. It could have said 15 lbs for all I knew...it didn't matter.

For days I fretted as the conversations and whispers from his mom and him talked about Suzanne coming to see the baby. On a Friday night, while the rest of the church was at a wedding, or maybe it was a Thursday night, during church service, we snuck Suzanne in to hold her nephew. I had to convince my parents that the house wouldn't burn down to hell, or that none of them would suffer from her visit...(not literally, but almost) so, they allowed it. The fact that I had to even talk to them about it, sickened me. From then on, my thoughts toward Suzanne were different. I had utter sympathy for her that she would never walk the aisle I did; she'd never be accepted as she was...if she were ever accepted.

We weren't around her much, but there were times we were. Guess what? Our children loved her. She was the best birthday present giver.  She got our kids giant teddy bears. Not being a mother herself, she just thought of the child, not the parent. She thought of the child's face when they opened her gift. She had everything a nephew or niece cold want in an aunt. Too bad we had to be so sneaky about her being their aunt.

I mentioned children. Prior to the birth of our second son, our relationship with Suzanne had developed more frequently, as she'd came back to sit on the hard benches and sing. She wasn't "worldly" anymore. However, there was no way my oldest sister would be at the birth of my second child. She said her husband told her she couldn't go if Suzanne were there. Although her and her husband associated with couples in "church" that were living unbiblical principles. Suzanne was not. She was married. That was apparently her sin.

So, he got on the phone, and called my sister's husband. He denied telling my sister that she couldn't go to the birth is Suzanne was going to be there. Nonetheless, Suzanne was not allowed at my parent's home during the birth of our second child. His brother's wife, however, was late to the birth, as she had been picking up her kids from her sister's house (who was also "worldly" by marrying outside of the church). It was said that she was afraid that someone would ask about her kids and she didn't want to lie about where they were, as they'd been spending the night at her "worldly" sister's house. Oh the double standards going on, oh the charades we play, just to keep the peace.

What My Family Thinks

Maggie and Suzi
Sisters-In-Law
September 1993

Some readers have wondered what my family thinks of me. In today’s blog, my sister-in-law, Maggie Smith Shumaker, writes about her courtship with my brother, and how his annoying little sister (me) affected her. Maggie and I grew up together in the FOC, but rarely associated with each other. We were fire and gasoline from the start.

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It kind of started before we were married. We had conversations about men in church doing things that were not legal. With some research, he found documents that gave titles to men that weren't all together true. I was freaking out that he didn't want to get married in the church by any of these men. After much consideration of feelings, he agreed that we didn't have to have a courthouse wedding. There were supporters of going to the courthouse, and I argued against the whole thing. I am very proud of him, for putting up with me.

We followed the church rules: we got engaged, went to the bookkeeper's home and set our date. Wow...six months down the road. That was forever in our days! We were supposed to have a short, maybe three mont engagement, but since everyone wanted to be married that year, (17 year old girls mainly), and we were "older" at the ripe age of 19 and 21 respectively. We just wanted to get married!

The men and boys of the church had a meeting about whether or not there could be double weddings, so some of us could be married sooner. Several of us couples were agreeing that it would be kind of fun to get married on the same night. My parents had a double wedding, and I was fascinated by looking at their wedding pictures. However, the rule was every two weeks. No one would budge. Partly because the older men thought it would put too much of a financial strain on the families that attended, having to give two gifts every two weeks. I thought that was a stupid reason to base their decision on. So, six months it was. We'd wait until September 10, 1993 to walk down the aisle and be husband and wife. It seemed like an eternity in March.

"Rumors fly when you're in the spotlight." Those were the thoughts of my dad as he and my mom questioned us one evening in my living room about not acting appropriately. Someone had seen us doing something in a parking lot, or somewhere. All they said, was it was outside of the truck...first off, if we wanted to be "inappropriate", why would we act that way outside of the truck? Really? There were some gossipy women saying things to relatives and then they would in turn go to my mom. Weird, but that's how this place ran...on he-said-she-said. Horrible to be called a Follower of Christ and this is the behavior that was going on. We put that rumor to rest, as neither of us could think of anything we had done that matched that description. I did teach him to waltz one evening outside of his truck, in a dark parking lot, down by the river.  I'm such a tramp! It was at my mom's request that I make sure he would waltz at our wedding. Therefore, I was doing what she asked! 

The days got closer, and it was finally time for his bachelor "dinner". The only food to my knowledge was donuts and vegetables. This tradition was typically all the males over 14 in the church, gathering in the "old church" back then, to watch a movie, or slideshow. The men would put money into a big dish or box for the guy getting married.                         

He walked away with a small chunk of bills that wasn't nearly the amount most guys had been getting those days. Guys would tell or talk about how much they got...or maybe it was their moms on the phone that Wednesday morning. Who knows how it got out how much each guy got in his box. Well, it was going to be enough to do something with anyway, and I was thankful he got any at all.

He and his best man came up with a slideshow of older pictures from when the church began, old baptisms, and played those for everyone at the bachelor dinner. I wondered if that's why his pot wasn't as much? No one liked people "causing waves" as my mom called it. He was a ripple maker, and I think that freaked her out. There was even one conversation where my mom asked me if he was a wave maker. I just laughed at her and thought, if she only knew! Of course he was! But, I smiled, and said, "What do you mean?" knowing exactly what she didn't want him to be.

None the less, we walked down the aisle, dad tripping on my dress the whole way...but finally, he took my arm and we walked up the four or five steps to the pulpit to face my cousin. He was the "man" marrying us. Traditionally, after kissing the bride, there was a song. They mixed up our songs. We were supposed to have "Let it be Me" first, THEN "Battle Hymn of Love" but "Battle Hymn of Love" was shorter, so they played that second, as the wedding party waited on the pulpit watching the crowd below. I was ticked off because I planned it that way according to the lyrics of the songs. It was MY wedding! Whatever, I was married, I didn't care about the rest of the night...pictures, dancing, cake, present stroll, and the going away!

So, after the song ended, the guy and his bride walk up to the podium and microphone, and "traditionally" thank the man for marrying them, thank everyone that helped, and whatever else needed to be said to make people feel good.  However, as you probably gathered, I didn't marry a "traditional" church boy. I married HIM...the guy I couldn't stand to date...the one I tried to hide from at parties so he wouldn't dance with me...until my prayers had been answered, and I knew God had shown me the father of my children in HIM.

He started by thanking everyone that had helped with the wedding that day. He knew what went into this gala of an event...he showed up for some reason at the church that afternoon, and I was told not to go out front because he was there. You know, traditionally, the groom isn't supposed to see the bride before her walk down the aisle...be he saw all the ladies in church that had been working on flowers, pressing dresses, hanging ribbon and what not. That impressed my groom. It's probably why as my mom drove me into the church parking lot that morning, I started bawling uncontrollably...she didn't understand why I was sobbing. They were all there for ME...and HIM...Why? Why would all of these "volunteers" come out and work the whole day, or four hours maybe, on getting MY special day ready?? Well, bless their hearts for it. My wedding was fabulous (ly over the top) in his mind.

The Wedding 1993 (with Maggie's parents)

So...he expressed he was thankful for everyone's help on the wedding that day, the gifts, for people singing, everyone who came out, but he neglected (on purpose I'm sure) to not mention the mere man that married us. Why should he get glory? He wasn't even supposed to be up there was he? Well, that didn't make very many people very happy. What a rebel! And so, more rumors flew. That was the story of our marriage for the next several months, if not years.

Seven months into our happily ever after, a blessing came upon me. You guessed it, we were starting our family. We'd tried to conceive, hoping for the first try, but it took a couple of months to actually get the positive reading. What were we to do? Our apartment would not hold the both of us AND a baby and all the baby comes with...so, we broke the lease on the one bedroom we were renting, and moved in with his mom and dad...and little sister, who was only nine months older than me. Oh joy.

Suzi and I could barely get along, now I was going to be in her house.  Well, we'd have to save somehow, and this seemed like the most logical way. Shortly after two months, we'd had enough for a down payment on a single wide mobile home in a park on the outskirts of Maple Lane Road.

Then, I got to start calling everyone to "tell" that we were expecting. I'd witnessed my friends become mothers, now it was my turn. I was so excited! It was all planned, we'd go to my moms, as tradition would have it, and birth the baby there...given I survived, we'd have a sweet little family just before Christmas time.
 

Oh the hormones, Oh the turmoil that came with being big and pregnant, and the hurt feelings it caused on mine, and other's parts in preparing the "in-laws" for this addition to our family.   When you hear things like, "She said this, and such and such" while you're pregnant it doesn't always sit right with the lady carrying the baby, or maybe it was just me.   So, with a sickened stomach, I made the dreaded call to his brother's wife letting her know that her kids were not the only ones that were going to have them as grandparents. My child, and hopefully children someday, were going to have just as much right to them as her kids did, and there wasn't anything she could do about it. It was the first time I felt like I stood up to her, and it felt good.

During heat of summertime, in our tin can of a home, I sat whining to my husband about how hot it was and how much of a heater I was carrying around in my abdomen. He said to go to Sears and buy an air conditioner and he'd install it after he got off work. I love him.  The emotions built and built as the pregnancy went on. I remember sobbing to my husband recollecting the incident that happened at my nephew's school. I had been standing next to my mother, who looked just as pregnant and I did at 7 months. Whatever the reason for it, she had a huge swollen belly most of my married life. For all I knew, it was some kind of a tumor. But, to elementary kids at the school, we were both having a baby!  "No," my mother corrected, "I'm just fat." That was her comment to everyone that asked, "No, I'm not pregnant." she say, as she climbed on the back of my dad's Harley Davidson. It was embarrassing, but also sickening that I had to watch the persecution she faced for not going to doctors our whole life.

But wait...let's throw a "worldly" wedding into the mix! Why not? There wasn't enough controversy already surrounding this family...me, being 5 mo. pregnant, cried as I was told my sister in law that was 9 months older than me ran off and married a "worldly guy" she met at work. How could she do this to our family? My baby will never see her. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. No! We loved her. We wanted the best for her. She was a pest. She had a brain, that's what threatened people. This man found her, she found him. Where is the sin? Why was she blackballed? Why couldn't my baby see her, know her, or her husband? Oh, because he wasn't born in the church like us righteous ones. That was the difference. I don't believe this man lived much differently than some of the attendees of the FOC.  That's beside the point that Suzanne would not be allowed at my baby's birth...she was married, which was a requirement mostly, so she COULD attend, BUT she was now worldly. This was a big contentious problem with my mom and sisters. And it kept being a problem for years down the road.

Maggie Shumaker 2012

 Please come back next Sunday to read part two of Maggie’s story.