Truth or Fiction

My 94-year-old brother, Blair, died night before last.  I cry, but only because there is no loss to grieve.  I can give you two versions of his life.  The one version would be the sanitized one expected of a Christian woman of my age and reputation. The one I am going to give you is not sanitized and that may bother some of you.  ...but then, some of you may be helped to let go of your own embarrassment and guilt-ridden lies about family relationships. This morning as I sat on my sunny deck and prayed for the Lord to give me this blog to give to you, I asked Him to sift my motives for being truthful about my brother Blair's affect upon me and countless others. His memorial will be Monday in Overbrook, Kansas. I will not be there. I grieved his death many years ago.

Blair was eleven years older than me, and my other brother, Bob, was ten years older. Bob died a few years ago. I did not attend his funeral in Nampa, Idaho, either. As with Blair, I grieved his death many years ago. There were no tears left for either brother, but only sadness that I never had a brother to show me the Godly maleness of Jesus. We can live well with sadness; we cannot live well with bitterness.

Our last name was "Flynn". We were "Fighting Irish" to the marrow of our bones, My brothers were well over six feet tall, broadly built... and frightening to a little girl who both longed to follow them everywhere they went (fishing, hunting, trapping) and at the same time wanted to be invisible, dreading their critical, negative words.

My mother's mantra: "What would the neighbors think?" put the lid on any reports to the outside world about the terrifying anger that often exploded in our farmhouse.  We were a handsome family that "cleaned up good" for the community dances and school functions. All were excellent dancers and to this day, I love to dance, but there's nobody to dance with. Ted was a mechanical dancer and after awhile I loved us both too much to put us through the charade of appearing to be having fun.  We'll dance in Heaven.

Bob's temper and his fists came out of nowhere. Like lightning! Blair made an attempt to appear to be calm and cool.  His nasty disposition surfaced in the form of criticism and withholding of affirming words.  His oldest son died of cancer at 58 just a few years ago, waiting in vain to be approved for something by his dad.

In my 40's I finally matured enough to quit lying about my brothers' powerful influence in my life which all but sabotaged my belief that Jesus approved me at all.  I had told countless others of the unconditional love of Christ, but deep in my little girl/woman soul, I could not believe it for myself. ...until I told the Truth: I had allowed my brothers to be "god" for me. With wracking sobs I confessed this to my Father and hand in hand, He and I began the beautiful journey to His Great Heart.

Where was my earthly dad through all of this? He was there, but he wasn't there. He gave me a work ethic for which I am grateful. When he died, he left me a deep sea fishing pole and a tackle box.  Ted and I took care of my parents for fifteen years toward the end of their lives during which time both came to Christ. When my dad left this earth,  I stood by his coffin, quiet tears flowing down my cheeks, because I never knew him.

What kind of woman have I become, in part because of the disappointing male examples that were dealt me?  Just under the surface of my personality is an "edge" that I am afraid of, lest it hurt somebody.  My dear Ted had little or no discernment about peoples' agendas, and often was dumped on mercilessly because he simply didn't hear the rattle of the rattlesnakes before they bit him. This forced me into the role of watch dog, which I hated. Sometimes I was a bull dog; sometimes, a harmless lap dog., but always on the alert. My happiest days were when we were out of the pastorates in which somebody is always mad and the bigger the church, the more vulnerable to people's "mads" the pastor, wife and family become.

Our Lord required of Ted and me that we show both of my brothers and my dad and mother,  again and again, what Jesus is really like. ...and we did. We helped Bob move from ranch to ranch as his temper cost him his foreman's job. He was obviously using us,  but we wanted him to see Jesus.  We made countless trips to Kansas to help Blair and his family, knowing there would never be any gratefulness or kind words except from Blair's wife, Aggie, who simply wore out and died from the emotional and physical load she carried so Blair could hunt and fish nearly every day of his life.

My Heavenly Father has given me brothers across this world. ...and I have sisters ...and I had dads when I was younger.  I didn't need mothers so much, for my own mother was a nurturer, but underneath she was wounded and hurt.  Early on, I signed on to be responsible for my mother's happiness.  Somebody had to be.  It was a load that I do not want my daughter to bear.

...back to Blair. Would you rather I had prettied up my spin on his life? Some of you would, because your m.o. (That's modus operandi) is fantasy.  I am grieving because he gave nothing to me but pain. ...BUT with that pain, I learned what a godly man ISN'T and what a godly man IS. He gave me kind Ted for sixty years. There's not another one like him and if there were I wouldn't marry him if he asked me, which isn't likely at my age. He would only want a nurse, and I just finished that assignment.

Now here is the surprise ending to this Flynn saga:  All three of these men, my dad and my two brothers and my mother are in Heaven. I was the first re-born and have never understood why the Lord would require that of me: the youngest, the one with no credibility whatsoever.  How do I know the four Flynns are in Heaven?  Do their lives square with many scriptures we could quote?  No, but they are there. Today. Right now. In the presence of Jesus. I will not be drawn into a debate about whether or not demons can be in the body of a believer.  I met them face to face for years even after, one by one, all four in my family became Christians. ...but they weakened, as  scriptures began to sink into the abyss of darkness in each soul.  Were those suckers ever completely gone? I don't know, but now they are, for all four are "seeing Jesus as He is, and they are LIKE Him."

                                   HYMN OF THE WEEK; NEAR TO THE HEART OF GOD

There is a place of quiet rest NEAR TO THE HEART OF GOD
A place where sin cannot molest; NEAR TO THE HEART OF GOD
O JESUS, blest Redeemer sent from the heart of God
Hold us, who wait before Thee; NEAR TO THE HEART OF GOD.

Love, Jo