Monday, July 13, "1953"

Monday, July 13, "1953"

Dear Mary:

These days must be joyous for you since yielding your heart and life to God, and I cannot help but enter into that joy, for it has only been 2½ years since I did the same. You, my dear, have made the wisest choice ever made in one’s lifetime, and one you will never regret. You and I have somewhat in common, for I too was once Catholic and I am also of Italian descent, but now the important thing is that today we are His. We are now in the fold and family of God, and it is a place we will come to value above all else, as we go on with Him. This, Mary, is the Way of God – of this we are assured. And do you know who it is we follow, who it is we strive to pattern our lives after? Of course you do! We follow Christ, the beloved Son of God. He is our example, and if we look anywhere else, we will surely fail. His is a beautiful life – one that speaks loudly of undying love and tender mercies, and all that is good and right in the eyes of God. He lived to show us how to live, and to love and serve His Father, the God of Heaven. Read of Him in the Bible, and you will find much understanding and wisdom there in His life.

The Bible must be a new book for you, Mary. I know it was for me. We never handled one in our church, and the only one at home was in the Italian language, laying away up in the attic. I remember when in my late teens, finding an old Bible in a dump, and as I read it, I found new, mysterious things within its covers that puzzled me. Mother took it away, and in its stead, placed a Prayer Book. Remember this, Mary, that God wants above all else, your heart’s affections, and this I know you will give, as you pause and consider all you have been brought out of and into. He wants first place, for no other place will do. Give your best, dear sister, and you will find peace and joy that was never experienced before. I can only speak of these things, as I have come to know them myself.

I should explain how I came to write you. I heard of you first through Alex McCullough, when he was here in Boston. He told us of your interest in attending the meetings, and then I heard from the two Pearls – Pearl Meek and Pearl Settle. Do you know them? They live in Hewlett, but for the summer months they are here in Ipswich with us – two of the dearest girls, and ones whom I value much.

As briefly as I am able, I would like to give you my experience as to how I came to know, love and serve the living God. We were an Italian Catholic family of six – mother, father, three brothers and myself, living in the small town of Lexington (10 miles from Boston). We grew up like most Italian kids – plenty of spaghetti and a strict, rigid upbringing. Mother was the religious one – devout, sincere in her belief, and she made sure we attended Mass every Sunday, plus every Holy Day of Obligation; rosary beads every night during the month of May; no meat on Friday; confession once a month; and all else that goes with Catholic worship. Father did not go to church, nor did he favor the Catholics, for he had long since seen the hypocrisy of the Catholic doctrine and he hated it, although he never prevented us from going. So we grew up in this atmosphere – Mother all religious and Father having no use for it – but yet I noticed that Dad, without religion was leading a better life than those who attended Mass every Sunday. In ’44 Dad died, a man who struggled with life for many years, never attaining to what he was striving for, because he did not know what it was he wanted in and out of life. He was never a satisfied man, and at the age of 50, his life too came to an end, never knowing what life was all about, never knowing the true purpose of our lives on the Earth. He died and left me his ways. I was the one now that began thinking as to what the goal in life was. There were many, but I was not interested in the many, but in the one and only goal that I knew must exist.

And so at the age of 18, dissatisfaction was setting in. Up to this time, I had lived a very sheltered life and knew little of the world. I was studying dancing at this time and teaching, and for awhile it became my whole life. I loved it, and when I love a thing, I put my all into it. But the old cry of dissatisfaction began to start again and it was not to be suppressed. With each passing year it grew louder, and it was then I launched out into the world to see, taste and handle all it had to offer. As I did so, the one hope in my heart was that this cry could be stilled. Like my father, I did not know what it was I longed for. I only knew that there was no satisfaction in anything I threw myself into. Maybe a few fleeting moments of false joy and happiness but then back to the old, gnawing pain of dissatisfaction.

Now you might ask, “Why did you not turn to the Church?” I had done so, and as I searched with all sincerity and honesty the Catholic doctrine, I saw what my dad saw – the hypocrisy of it all. And, believe me, I did not shake it overnight, for this form of worship had been embedded within me since childhood. I had many a fear and guilt as a result of feeling this way about my religion, but it failed in bringing to my soul satisfaction. I sort of half-heartedly continued. One would think I was not a very sincere Catholic. That is the cry of the priest, friends and relatives, but I was not one for blind obedience, and it was my true sincerity that finally opened my eyes to see the rotten core of Catholicism. I questioned where others did not dare, and I was not going to worship God blindly, but wanted true facts. I wanted truth, but their form of truth did not strike me as being right.

One summer I began to read the Bible. Much of it was hard for me to understand, but I did enjoy reading Psalms and the cries of David. I used to read of Christ’s death over and over again, and then cry like a baby at the injustice He received, never realizing that He died for me, so that today I might have the privilege of serving the true God. By the end of summer, my form of worship fell through because the Lord was not in it, and we find today that anything along the line of religion that is controlled by our own human reasonings, instead of the will of God, will only fall through with time. I wandered into the Baptists and thought I had something there, because we were allowed to take part in the singing and in the meetings held after the services, but in witnessing a few of their broadcasts, I was convinced they were as the rest of man’s imaginations. Back to my own church again, hating it all, but with nothing else to turn to. I began to retreat from the world, for they had nothing to offer me that I had not already tasted of, and it only sickened me. It was the end of the old year, 1950, when I gave up all hope of ever finding that which would bring me rest, peace and joy. Somehow, as the New Year rang in (New Year’s Day), I allowed a spark of hope to be ignited – the hope that with the new year, I would find what I so longed for. That was Monday.

Two days later, I was sitting in the home of Myron (former neighbour) and refusing an invitation to attend Gospel meetings. But Myron did not accept my refusal, but instead talked to me in much love and patience. His wife, and his daughter, with whom I had gone to school, just sat and said little. Myron did the talking, and after hours I realized that this man was serious and was earnestly striving to tell me something. I accepted, even though it was against my will, for I knew so little of their religion, except that they had no name (and yet they have a name, the name of God), no church, no priest, that they met together in homes, and their preachers went two by two, as the Bible said. When they were living next to us as neighbours, we did not discuss their religion, for it was unheard of and unknown, and besides, as Catholics, we felt no need of questioning their Faith, which was considered strange and odd. There was to be a meeting Friday, and so Friday evening found me sitting under the sound of the Gospel. Immediately I began to take note of everything, though I didn’t understand too much of what was being said. But I looked and found these people, quiet people, without any outward display of anything that would attract one humanly. I allowed myself to dislike these people, but not for long, because I could not resist the love, care and interest which they showed me. I often asked myself as to why they would have this interest. All these thoughts entered my head that night, and I can only say that I was wrong in many ways.

Going home that night with the Kayes, I began to smoke, and I knew instantly, “This is wrong!” I gave up smoking that night – a vice that had gripped me for years, and one that I had tried to give up so many times. I threw that pack away, and with it the desire of ever smoking again. That desire has never returned; this is the marvellous work of God. Where God sees willingness, He can do wonders. From then on, I attended every meeting, and it was in the fifth meeting that God revealed Himself to me. I knew then that this was what I needed. This was what I had cried for all these years. This could fill the longing, the yearning that had possessed me, and now I had access to it. God spoke through His servant (Helen Scherb) – it was the 4th chapter of John, when Jesus was offering that woman at the well, the living water. It was being offered to me that night, and with joy I accepted. Words fail to do justice in expressing what followed. I only know that I was filled with joy, with rest, with peace. My heart sang as it never sang before. I was filled to overflowing.

There were many tears of joy those days, and I found it hard to bear this new burden of joy. I had to tell it to all I met, and I believe I talked too much in those first few days, for many just shook their heads and began to wonder about me. I soon learned to keep quiet, that the crowds were not interested in what God could do within the life of a human.

I did not tell Mother. I never confided in her, and I believe too, that I feared what she would say. But she did notice the change – no smoking, no lipstick, strange disappearances Sunday morning, and much reading of the Bible. I tried to point out these things to her in the Bible. All in vain. I had given up dancing school and began searching for a new job. It couldn’t last, though, and within a week’s time, Mother found out. She hit the ceiling, as I expected, and as I feebly tried to explain, she suggested I take my pick. I had made my choice a few weeks back and nothing could change it, so I had to leave home, but I expected it. The Bible informed me that there was separation from loved ones, friends, and from the world. This separation just proved to me all the more, that this was the Way of God. It is either being separated from Mother and home, or being separated from God. I could not bear the latter. He has enabled me to bear the separation from home. Mother would not speak to me, nor see me for three months. She slowly softened. I was allowed to visit home, but there were always long, lengthy discussions to endure. Finally, she asked me to come back, but I had to leave my new-found Faith behind. I had to show her then that nothing was ever going to take me away from the One I loved and served. My poor, dear mother. I’ve come to love her so, and you will find, as I have, that your heart will go out to them in love, for they are blind to the things that God has shown us.

They cannot see as we see, but we have this hope – that God will bring into His family and fold, all that honestly seek after Him. We have the serious responsibility of showing to them not only what God has done for us, but what He can do for them. Things are quiet now at home, and Mother loves to have me visit. She no longer discusses religion, but seeks just to have me visit and talk with her. I do not discuss it with her either, but I shall never cease to live it before her very eyes, with the hope that she might see and desire after the life of Christ that I strive to manifest in my life. My three brothers seem to be happy to know that I finally found what satisfies. One claims to be watching my life. He’s the dissatisfied one. And so it goes.

After 2½ years I can still sing that song of praise and thanks to God, for He has been to me a loving, kind Father, leading and guiding me along this narrow pathway that leads to Heaven and Home for us.

I have been lengthy, haven’t I? I’m sorry if I’ve tired you, Mary, but to me these things are beautiful to speak of, because they are the workings of God, and His work in one’s life is a beautiful sight to behold. I am overjoyed at your choice, Mary, and hope you will go on to prove Him more and yet more. Now, one little request – would you write me, for I know you have much to tell of your experience. Please do, for I will be anxiously awaiting. Hope to be able to visit you some day, and won’t our time be sweet together! I close with my heart’s deep love.

Your sister in Christ,

Anna D.