sneak-peek of "where are all the men?"

8/6/2019 Sneak-peek of "Where are all the Men?"

1/25


2/25

EStrategic Book Group

Where Are All the Men?

Why dont more men commit to God?Why dont more men commit to marriage?

Garry and Ellen Duguid


3/25

Copyright 2011

All rights reserved Garry Duguid and Ellen Duguid

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form

or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including

photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval

system, without the permission, in writing, from the publisher.

Strategic Book Group

P.O. Box 333

Durham CT 06422

www.StrategicBookClub.com

ISBN: 978-1-60976-719-8

Printed in the United States of America

Book Design: Rolando F. Santos

Scripture quotations denoted as NIV are taken from:

THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION

Copyright 1973,1978,1984,1985 by International Bible Society

Used by permission of Hodder and Stoughton,

a member of Hodder and Stoughton Group

THE NIV STUDY BIBLE

Copyright 1985 by the Zondervan Corporation

All rights reserved

NIV is a trademark of the International Bible Society

Scripture quotations denoted as NJB are taken from:THE NEW JERUSALEM BIBLE

Copyright 1985 by Darton, Longman and Todd and Doubleday,

a division of Random House, Inc., reprinted by permission

Scripture quotations denoted NCB are taken from:

THE INCORPORATED CATHOLIC TRUTH SOCIETY NEW CATHOLIC BIBLE

Copyright 2007, reprinted by permission

Passages denoted as CCC are taken from:

THE CATECHISM OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH

Reproduced by kind permission of Continuum International Publishing Group

The authors are grateful to the various writers and publishers for their kind

permission to reproduce quotes from the publications denoted in the Footnotes

throughout the text and the Bibliography.


4/25

Contents

Introduction ixChapter 1: Childhood 1

Chapter 2: Marriage Beginnings 11

Chapter 3: Aacks on Marriage 19

Chapter 4: The Adamic Nature 32

Chapter 5: Gods View on Marriage 44

Chapter 6: In Whose Image? 52

Chapter 7: Gods Love 63

Chapter 8: Human Love 74

Chapter 9: What Love Is Not 83

Chapter 10: Relationships 89

Chapter 11: Pauls View on Marriage 103

Chapter 12: Submission 111

Chapter 13: Roles 120

Chapter 14: Redemption 133

Bibliography 149


5/25


6/25

We dedicate this book to our daughter, Caroline, her husband Simonand to our grandchildren, Oliver, Tim, Cara, and Sofa.


7/25


8/25

With Grateful thanks

We would like to express our sincere gratitude to ourdear friends in Christ, Jill and Mike Lillie, and theirdaughter Michaela, who have supported us in prayer

and inspiration throughout the entire length of this project.Without their constant belief and encouragement that this bookwas to be wrien for men and marriage we would have falteredon several occasions.

As soon as you began to pray,an answer was given

Dan 9 v 23

Garry and Ellen Duguid, 2011


9/25


10/25

ix

Introduction

Why are we writing this book? If God calls men and womenalike, then why is it that women seem to respond morequickly, more fervently to that invitation?

We noticed in church there are three or four times morewomen than men. Why is it that on retreat or on a prayer day thereare no men signed up, or on a seminar about relationships, two orthree couples arrive with the husband usually the reluctant party?Oen the meeting is cancelled through lack of support. This begsa larger question: why dont many men commit to their families,let alone to God? And again: why are there so many fatherlesschildren in the Western world?

As we shared our thoughts, we both stood back puzzled.So we prayed: Where are all the men? We asked: what is his role asman, as husband, as father as Christian?

We are not theologians, we are not pastors, we hold noacknowledged oce in our church, but we are both practisingChristians and we have been married for forty-seven years. AtChristian World Revival College in Surrey, Ellen undertook Biblestudy together with Pastoral Care and Christian Counselling touniversity standard, and several other short courses on aspectsof anthropology and psychology. Together we have aendedcourses on personality types, which was of particular help to

Garry in the various senior management positions he held in hiscareer. So what follows is not theology, it is not doctrine, it is notdogma, but it is that which God has shown us through scripture,prayer, and through our own experience. Our insights have been


11/25

x

Introduction

expanded by the writings of others, both religious and secular,and from an understanding of the spiritual life. It has helped us

in our relationship with each other. We pray that it will also helpyou in yours.

The Clue

One day God in His mercy gave us a clue from quite anunexpected beginning. He prompted us to look for some answerswith a few words from a course we aended in 2007. Thus we

began our search in earnest. We think we might have found someof the insights we had been seeking.

This clue came almost as an aside during a course about thespiritual root causes of sickness. Ellen had suered ill-health formany years. We prayed together for her healing and engaged in allthe things Christians do: healing services, anointings, pilgrimages,and so on. So here we found ourselves on yet another search for acure. Garry signed up as well so that Ellen might get healed. Buthe did not need healing, did he? Did he?

For some time Ellen had been geing the word in prayer thatshe wouldnt get beer because her well-being had something todo with Garry. Frankly, we didnt understand this.

The course was by Henry Wright, pastor of Pleasant ValleyChurch in Thomaston, Georgia, USA.1 Twenty years ago he hadasked God why there were so few fruits of prayer for sick people,and God directed his studies towards the spiritual roots of theirsickness. We do not intend to go into his ministry too deeply here,

but the following few words are necessary to understand whatresonated with us both. If you are interested to nd out more, youmight visit his website or read his book. 2

Wright says that 80 percent of his caseload is women,many of whom are suering from auto-immune diseases, mostly

because they have not been covered by the male in their family either a father or a husband. That means most men four outof ve arent doing their job. Because much of Ellens ill-health

was due to her failing immune system, Garry was included inthat number!

1 www.beinhealth.com2 Henry Wright, A More Excellent Way


12/25

xi


Further, Wright states, They are emotional widowsTheir husbands might as well be dead!He also claims that the

emotional well-being of the family is down to the man. We weresurprised by this because hitherto our understanding was that thewoman is the emotional heart whilst the man is the head. Wenotice a growing awareness of this feature in that psychologists,marriage counsellors, even mid-wives now encourage men to bemore in touch with their emotions, especially in regard to theirwives and children.

Our book here is not about illness or healing in the acceptedsense, but there is truth to be found in the most unlikely places! Acourse on healing led us to seek an answer to this question aboutmens role in womens lives: if so many women are physically ill

because of their poor relationship with their husbands, who is toblame? Is it the fault of the women or is it the fault of the men? Isshe trying to do something for which she is not equipped, or is shetrying to conrm the man in her life, or trying to be head wherehe is absent either physically or emotionally? Or is it elsewhere,in church or society, for instance?

What Is the Root Cause?

Recently we read an item in a publication promotingnutritional eating habits. It is worth quoting in part:

Why are womens overall health and happiness declining?I believe it is because most women are living a life that they arenot genetically designed to live. Humankinds genetic makeup

has hardly changed in the last 30,000 to 40,000 years In factmost women are likely to experience many of the following: longworking hours, excessive time pressure, sleep deprivation, lackof role models, breakdown of the family unit, being a sole carer,nancial debt, increasing levels of isolation, cultural and societalfocus on appearance, weight and socio-economic status, sex andgender discrimination, high risk of sexual and physical violence,increasing levels of fear and anxiety and insecurity The truth

is most women struggle to cope with the physical, emotional,psychological and social changes that have taken place in the last50 years. This failure to adapt to the demands of 21st century lifeis making it progressively more dicult for women to meet the


13/25

xii

Introduction

physical and emotional needs that are so essential for health andhappiness. 3

There is a deeper truth here than womens ills being solelydue to poor eating habits. The absence of responsible men intheir lives has something to do with it, too. Hence the title of this

book: Where are all the men? Not just the physical whereabouts ofthe male of the species, though there is much to be said on thistopic, but where is the very masculinity that makes them menas opposed to wimps, bullies, or boys; that strength which wasplaced there by God since the beginning of time? We shall explorewhat we have come to understand as the essentials of both menand women from the perspective of the Image of God that we allshare, whether we acknowledge it or deny it, whether we give itfull rein or suppress it.

The author of the above passage lists some ingredients forhappiness. He includes among others: love, security, meaningand purpose, a sense of competence and connection to family,friends, and nature. While he assumes lack of these is the causeof much female unhappiness, we maintain that these same needs

are missing in many mens lives, too, and are therefore equallydestructive. Are men any happier than women?

We are hard-wired to be man or woman; there is an essencethat God has given to every man and a dierent essence to everywoman. Therefore, man cannot be woman and woman cannot beman. Man needs woman, woman needs man; it is Gods design.We are made by God to be in relationship, one with the other. Thisis not saying that all men and all women should be in a married

relationship, but casual relationships do not supplant marriage.The question Where are all the men? can be answered

in several ways, for example historically, anthropologically,psychologically, and morally. We are looking at it from a Godly,scriptural, and etymological perspective. We also acknowledgethe presence of evil in the world. In other words, we are examiningthe root cause, the Fall and its consequences, and not just issuesarising from that event. Throughout history there have been

times of great social upheaval: wars, the Industrial Revolution,political extremism, scientic discoveries. All these create a moralvacuum that leaves the populace oundering. For example, the

3 Dr Mark Atkinson, Nutrition News, Issue 2, February 2009


14/25

xiii


Second World War separated men from their families, and thosewho returned found a very changed society. From this evolved

the rebellious teenagers in the 50s and 60s who became parentsin their own right in the 70s and 80s, perpetuating the problemof rootlessness.

During the last century there has been a growth in secularismthroughout the Western world, with a concomitant lesseningof commitment to Christianity and an increasing tendency tomulticulturalism.

There has been an aempt towards the recognition of theintrinsic value of woman, heralded by the so-called WomensMovement in the Western world. Even in the West women arestill pandering to the whims of the male sex by an overweeningpropensity to fret over their physical appearance. So, too, it seems,in Islamic nations where we see women wearing the burkah andniqab, being persuaded by their menfolk that it is a religiousrequirement.

We maintain that the fundamental fallacy underpinning theWomens Movement of the last y years is that they can perform

as well as men or even do without men. Much blame lies withmen both in the past and continuing into the present time, andthey should recognise and accept their part in their response towomen. Feminism was a reaction to these very failures, perhapsan overreaction. While women might achieve the societal status ofmen, may even supplant them in certain areas of life, they cannotaain the essential essence that is man. In many areas where thewomens movement has caused disappointment, distress, and

even damage to both sexes, it is not so much that women havefailed, but rather that women have failed to be like men. And itstill does not result in men becoming men and assuming theirproper role and responsibilities; rather, mens roles have becomeemasculated and diminished.

We have based our book principally on what we observearound us in the United Kingdom. But having researched wrienmaterial and videos from elsewhere in the world, especially North

America, it suggests to us that the same situation is reected thereand elsewhere, such as in Europe and Australia. We say thatduring our childhood we saw marriage as the bulwark of society,divorce being regarded as anathema. During our married lifetime


15/25

xiv

Introduction

we have observed marriage being progressively devalued anddivorce becoming more prevalent. This was heralded by the so-

called no-fault Divorce Act of 1969, introduced into UK law bythen Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. As we shall see in laterchapters, this has loosened the bonds of marriage to such an extentthat it now seriously undermines society as a whole. Indeed, arecent report from the Oce of National Statistics acknowledgesmarriage is under threat. Ocial predictions show that marriageswill fall from 49 percent to 42 percent over the next twenty-veyears. At the same time the number co-habiting is set to rise from2.3 million to 3.8 million. This has been described as living insin, even in secular parlance. So, in spite of all the changing shapeof relationships between men and women and the limiting eectof Christian ethos, there is still the underlying acknowledgementthat co-habitation is against Gods principles. It is Adamic.

In all these movements the intrinsic value of humankind isundermined and diminished. With God it is not. We say the onlyway forward is in a return to Godly values that are constant.

Whether you, the reader, agree with us or not is not the

point. All we endeavour to do in the following pages is to inviteyou to consider what we have discovered in our quest. Becausethese are answers from our own research combined with ourpersonal experience and prayer, they are not necessarily generalto everyone. But from what we have heard from others withwhom we have spoken, there is truth enough. We hope this bookwill address some of what we believe are wrong aitudes andteachings pervading our society and churches today. We pray

you will nd something to stir your mind, heart, and spirit andhopefully change your life, as it has surely done in ours. If whatwe say causes disagreement, then so be it.

I dont have to make you believe, I only have to tell you.4

4 St Bernadee, 1844 - 79


16/25

1

Chapter 1

Childhood

Child of God

On the day I stood with Ellen at my side, before the altarof God, the priest said, Who gives this woman? Ellensfather stepped forward and put his daughters hand in

mine. The father hands on his daughter in trust to a stranger.If I had looked a lile closer, I would have seen another

father standing before us, the Father of us all. It was He puingthe hand of His child in mine. Can you imagine this? The Fathersays, Here is a child-of-God for you to care for, for the rest of her

life. I trust you to do this for Me.What a gi!But who was this child of God that had been entrusted to

me?

Ellens Childhood Story

My journey began in Ireland. I was born into a Catholic

family in a lile village near the West Coast, County Mayo. ThereI went to a Catholic school run by the Sisters of Charity. Theseearly years inuenced what I knew about God. Pondering on this,I now realise that my image of God was a hand-me-down God.


17/25

2

Chapter 1: Childhood

He seemed distant, policeman-like, ready to trip me up wheneverpossible. God, to me, in my minds eye, was much like the pictures

in our home depicting Jesus as bearded, white, and holding Hisheart in the palm of His hand. There was a lot of guilt and fearengendered in the way in which He was mediated.

As I grew up in this environment, church and school denedmy life. I was required to faithfully aend Mass on Sunday and,in order to protect myself from the Headmistresss wrath, everymorning also. My constant question was: do I stay at Mass andplease my parish priest or do I leave before it nishes in order toget to school on time to assuage Sister Martin? She expected meto go to Mass, remain until the end, and still get to school by nineo clock, which was when the service nished.

Hands up, all those whove been to Mass, she would sayevery morning. My head then was so full of conicting thoughtsand my heart would beat rapidly. I could feel it pounding againstmy chest. In the event of my missing Mass, I would ask myself,Do I lie and oend God, or do I put my hand up and escapea reprimand? Or do I stay at Mass until the end and please the

priest? I never fully solved the dilemma. Instead I becamefamiliar with the damaging feeling of guilt.

My world-view was that of stained-glass windows, large,over-bearing pulpits, a myriad of statues of saints, nuns in long,

black, owing robes, priests in elaborate vestments, oppressedwomen, and inebriated males. The Church told me what to

believe. But mostly I was told how to behave. The saying Awomans place is in the home was certainly true in the Ireland

of my youth. Those poor benighted Irish women! They waited tobe born. They waited to marry. Marriage seemed to be the solepurpose of their existence. They were prisoners of their sex. It wastheir place to full their physiological destiny, which was that ofpleasing their husbands or their fathers, or their priests, or, inother words, men. The drama of sex, conception, pregnancy, and

birth was the measured tempo of their lives. Or at least that washow I perceived it.

They were further commied to their inherited religious beliefs. Religion, in a way, was their only aesthetic outlet, orshould I say the understanding of what was meant by religionthen. I have since come to see that religion involves a search for


18/25

3


the meaning of life. In the time of my youth, religion consisted inan obligation to aend Mass, like I said, and also engage in plain

chant, litanies, Benediction, rosaries, novenas, votive candles,prayer books, scapulas, religious pictures, and processions onHoly days.

God was mediated through the nuns and priests. It appearedto me to centre mainly on ritual. There was no opportunity toquestion, or to grow in love and knowledge of God. The failurecould in part have been mine!

Each week I listened to my Bishop deliver a sermon on thevengeance of God and my sinfulness. I do not remember anymention of love or grace. The bishop was a pious, very sincere,gentle, bookish old man. He was short, round, and fatherly. Hedid convey a kind of condence.

Every Sunday the church was full to capacity. Most of thecongregation remained standing at the back of the church. Iobserve this was a very Catholic way! Mostly men lled thisposition, tall men, short men, thin men, men with thick curly hair,

bald men, men wearing thick, creamy hair oil, ill-ing suits, and

large, equally ill-ing shoes. All of them were waiting to rushout before Mass ended. They went straight to the nearest pub. Ihasten to add it did not apply to all Irish men.

Women were more deferential with their heads bowedand their mouths animated in prayer. They also were wearingtheir Sunday best: hats with feathers, clusters of fruit and grandribbons, coats with fur collars, some with velvet collars or plaincollars. Many in winter wore fur-lined boots. It was a kind of

uniform!Dont be bold, the bishop would say, his voice lling the

church. Do not indulge in sex outside marriage was what hemeant. This was his weekly message to his ock. Every Sundaymorning he delivered virtually the same message, and everySunday evening it was put to the test at the local dance.

As I write, I recall as if it were yesterday our annual retreat.This lasted for three weeks each year. It was a special time of

repentance, pledges to stop drinking, and good resolutions.It was a time of shouting from the pulpit, a time of fasting andabstinence, a time of purging the soul. I liked the retreat. Myfather always became a pioneer, wore a badge, and promised not


19/25

4


to touch a drop of drink as long as he lived. It was a noble, short-lived gesture. Mother, my four sisters, and I had wonderful peace

while it lasted.I see now that the strict Irish upbringing in the church ofmy young years fashioned what I knew of God. In a way it keptme from Him. Certainly it deprived me of the understanding ofHis unconditional love. I do not blame my mentors. They knewno beer. Im sure that many experienced a similar upbringing tomine.

I do recall, however, as a young girl feeling awe at creation,my own being, the presence of Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament andthe sense of security that gave me. I was fascinated by the conceptof eternity, and of one day meeting with Jesus face to face. I knowI felt a deep love for Him, which is His gi to me. There weremany questions I desired to ask but did not dare. To question wasconsidered a sin! There are certain parts of the spiritual journeythat must be undertaken in solitude. When I do meet Our Lord, Icannot blame someone else for my own decisions. God has givenme freewill, even to a woman!

The country and church of my youth certainly have a lot toanswer for, I believe. One sad fact of my childhood was that myfathers aempt as husband and Dad had been clouded by hispassion for drink. This undoubtedly happened through no faulton my fathers part. Much was due to lack of understanding ofhow we are made, and lack of opportunity to receive help. At thetender age of eight he witnessed his fathers sudden and violentdeath. From that bleak moment on, his mother required that he

step into his dead fathers shoes. This was undoubtedly a trulydaunting task for an eight-year-old boy. And that sad and suddendeparture of his father from this world was not the end of themiserable turn of events in the family.

At that time his mother was imminently pregnant. Cruelfate contrived to arrange life such that his youngest brother was

being born in the master bedroom at a time when his lile sisterwas in a con in the living room. She had died at the age of four

following a bout of pneumonia. All this occurred within monthsof his father being buried. Incredibly, later that year, that doomedyear, Father was told that his grandfather, whom he especiallyloved, had died. Again this death was sudden.


20/25

5


The dreadful, blank pain of deprivation and the frightening,miserable eect of the deaths in his family composed itself

indelibly on his life, he conded to me many years later with tearsin his eyes.My father! I reached out to him so oen. A father is

everything to a young girl. I wanted his love, his support, withoutcomplications. I felt my life was empty without him. I believe theevents of his youth, and his escape into alcohol deprived him ofthe ability to truly love. I now know I placed too much emphasison receiving his love, the love only Father God can give, whichis unconditional love. Of course, my father needed to know thelove of God himself. Did he? I dont know. All I know is he didnot act like one living out of a heart-knowledge of Gods love. Oh,I know we are nite, and will never fully experience this love inour fallen world! Yet, we search for it until we die.

I speak now of how the relationship with my earthly fathercoloured my relationship with Abba Father. The relationshipwith my father aected my ability to love and receive lovecompletely. Yet I experienced amazing and forever moments with

my dad. On one occasion my class was asked to draw a cow ashomework. I rushed to my dad and said, Daddy, can you makea cow? With a smile he said, No. My childs heart sank. Mydaddy could not make a cow. What a relief it was for me whenhe said, But I can draw one. A father is so important in a family even if it is just to draw cows! As I grew older, I became awarethat my father would have defended me to the death against anydanger.

Even as I write, I recall that marriage was the bulwark ofour society. I never remember anyone being divorced or deserted,and it engendered a deep sense of belonging and community.

Before I move on with my story I feel I must mention mymother. I rst became aware of her as Mother when I was aboutthree years old. Before that I cannot remember much. Even nowat times, I can pretend she is still with me. One of the most vividmemories I have is of her walking up our front path laden with

lile gis. She was generous, loving, and truly maternal. My fatheroen spoke to me about her in later years aer her death. He saidshe had dark, good looks, a ne complexion, and a small, lithe,trim gure, which she never lost in spite of all her pregnancies.


21/25

6


She was ne-boned and nely proportioned, standing only aboutve feet two inches. She seemed taller because of the dignity of

her bearing. My father was enchanted with her. When I askedhim shortly before he died to name the happiest day of his life, hesaid, When I got the girl I loved.

From my own perspective I would say the most precious githat came from my mother in large measure was the gi of love.She gave it abundantly to all members of her family. As childrenwe considered her to be the fountain of all knowledge. Howeverinsurmountable the problem, my mother had an answer.

She died far too young from breast cancer.Life! Death! Eternity! Life confused me. Death disturbed

me. Eternity intrigued me. To go on and on and on without end, howcould that be? I used to ask. Yet, I felt even then that without Godslove, it can appear as if we rush headlong towards it blindly, asthough life were nothing but one long, slippery road down whichwe slide at a terrifying speed towards this darkness called deathand the unknown, eternity. One day I will understand, I believed,

but until then I craved love, I knew.

Shortly aer my eighteenth birthday I packed a suitcase.The label on it read the name of my destination: London, England.London held for me a fecundity of wonders. On the night beforeI le, I put on my coat and walked out one last time into themoonlit scene: the empty eld, tall trees, and the brick wall wereclear in the yellow light. It was so full of serenity it brought anache, the very ache I desired to forget, the ache of longing for ourlives to reect this moonlit calm. But I knew only too, too well

it neither was nor could ever be peaceful so long as we all lived.It is a futile dream. A dead dream. A fools dream. I walked idlyon. I looked into the houses. I saw calmness there. I pulled myovercoat tightly around me. I was cold. Not a physical cold. Aninner cold. I walked on and on. A bird moved in the branches ofan old tree above me and again the silence was so dense, so deep,so solemn it hurt. And frightened me. I had at times longed forsuch silence, so many times, yet then it only frightened me. And I

begged for the bird or anything or anyone to move again.The moon shone on, I walked miles, I paused again outside

our house. I stood in the alien silence as if waiting for a word, orsign, or revelation anything. But nothing came, nothing ever


22/25

7


came, and I laughed at my foolishness, at that part of me capableof expecting, standing out there waiting, when only what was

will ever be, I felt then.Suddenly the lights in the kitchen went out. Mother hadenticed Father to bed, and she had joined him there. When Inally lowered myself into bed on that, my last night in the auldhouse, I did so carefully that no sound, no murmur disturbed thequiet. And time was still moving on, time that had reached onlya few conclusions for me, time that, in time, would renew myexpectations of it hopefully! Even then, truly, morning was onits way with its chirpy newness. In no time at all it would cometumbling in and my big day would begin, please God.

I recall a great eruption of joy mingled with sorrow openedout around me like a dense cloud behind which the sun shone

brightly, as I pictured my father taking hold of my suitcase to walkme to the station. How wonderful, how terrible, how excitinglysignicant, how brave, how hopeful it was for me. He would notuer a word because he would be sober. He had to be, the pubswere not open. My time of departure was half past seven. I did

not uer a word except Goodbye and God bless you. Tears!God, the tears! I can see them now. They rolled down his witheredface and he wiped them away with the back of his hand. It washis way. He clung onto my hand until it almost broke. And mymothers gentle sobs will haunt me for as long I live. But my mindconcentrated beyond all that to the moment I stepped on the trainand I was away to the promise of a new life, a beer life.

Was I in for a surprise!

Garrys Childhood Story

I was born in a small village on the South Coast of England inthe early years of the Second World War. I cant say that I remembermuch about the war except that my father, being shore-based inthe UK in the Royal Navy, was still away a lot. As a pharmacisthe worked in the Royal Navy Hospital at Haslar. Directly aer

VJ Day he was shipped to Ceylon (Sri Lanka) to help with therepatriation of British POWs from the Japanese camps. In hisown words, They had to be faened up and made presentable

before they could be sent home. This experience aected him


23/25

8


very much and he harboured an abiding dislike of the Japanesefrom that time on. I have a vivid memory of his return to the UK.

We went to Portsmouth Dockyard to meet him. There was thishuge aircra carrier alongside the docks with sailors and soldiersstreaming down the gangplanks to rejoicing families. How hardit must have been during all those long years of separation,and doubt, and fear. And so, life returned to normal school,

birthdays, holidays, family gatherings.One thing was noticeable when I look back: I do not recall

ever playing with my older brother. In fact, he seemed alwaysunapproachable, unfriendly even, certainly not what one wouldcall a brother. I cannot relate to lial love because I neverexperienced it. Similarly I dont remember ever being told by anymember of the family that I was accepted for who I was. Therewere no hugs or encouragement, no outward expressions of love.My rst recollection of being told I was loved was when Ellenspoke of it years later. She loves me and she makes sure she tellsme so oen.

I do not believe the word existed in my childhood lexicon.

There were only frowns of disapproval if I didnt measure up whatever that might mean. Dont misunderstand me my parentsdid what they thought best against the background of their ownchildhood experience. My mothers own father had died whenshe was very young, and whether she knew it or not, it must haveaected her ability to show love. Her childhood was coloured

by a distinct lack of money with a widowed mother strugglingto bring up six children. My father was more fortunate in being

comfortably o but not excessively so, and as a professional man,he provided for his wife and family such that we never wereneglected. He was always home on the dot. He never indulgedin selsh behaviour. He was a man of principles, but not over-demonstrative towards any of the family. I suppose both myparents were typical of the day. They did their best.

It was many years later that I discovered that the vast majorityof adults never heard the words I love you from their parents,

their father in particular. So I was like so many others who haveonly experienced conditional love, not the unconditional lovethat we all crave. Much, much later I was to discover that this isthe most wonderful gi that is poured out upon us freely by God,


24/25

9


our true Father.During my formative years we occasionally went to church

as a family. But it was to church we went, not to meet with God. Myfather joined the choir, my older brother became very churchy,my mother stopped going. I sat bored in the pews listening to anaged vicar who droned on interminably about Gad, whoeverHe was! I was conrmed at the appropriate age, and promptlyceased aending. The most enquiring I ever did was to thinkup awkward questions for our RK lessons at school, and thesewere more concerned with embarrassing the teacher rather thanexploring the nature of religion or of God Himself.

If there ever were a personal encounter with God in the livesof any of my family, no one was ever overtly changed by it. Godwas not acknowledged in our house. He was never mentioned; noone ever prayed to Him. Every Christmas we exchanged presents,decorated the tree, lled up on turkey and pudding, but He wasstill not mentioned. Easter would come and go without any aecton our lives, apart from the ritual of pancakes on Shrove Tuesday,hot cross buns on Good Friday, and chocolate eggs on Easter

Sunday. The years were marked by term-time and exam results,not by the church calendar.

My parents were very driven by academic success. TheEnd of Term Report was always cause for anxiety in my heart incase I failed to be in the top two or three of the class. My brotheralways was, and I felt the necessity to compete in order to beacceptable. The ultimate blow fell when I failed to pass the examto get into Grammar school. Like my brother, I was entered for it

a year earlier than was usual. But he had passed and gone to HighSchool in the year above his academic year. I had to stay on theextra year in junior school and take the exam again the followingyear. I remember being consoled by the headmaster. He met me

by chance on my way to school the day aer the results werepublished. He congratulated me on trying and then said, Nevermind that you failed this time, you will pass next. And I know thatyou will do beer than your brother.I am reminded here that

intellect and knowledge are oen confused and the dierence isnot understood.

How right he was. It was the word of encouragement thatI desperately needed at that moment. But I dont remember my


25/25


parents encouraging me in the same way. In later years I wouldlook back and recall what he had said. Yes, I felt I had succeeded

in geing to where I wanted to be, to do what I felt was right forme. But on my way to that destination I was to encounter the twomost life-changing experiences any man could expect. I met themost wonderful woman I could hope to meet

And through her I met God!

sneak-peek of "where are all the men?"

Documents