Saturday, February 18, 2012

My Middle Name's Shane

It was November 1969.  I had just gone through the worst summer of my life.  A summer so tragic that my family never speaks of it and I rarely do unless it's to my dearest, closest friends. I wasn't feeling very good about myself and was very vulnerable.  My friend, Donna, and I had gone out to get a burger at the Steak-n-Shake (aka: The Gag).  Her friend Wanda went along for the ride and she kept going on and on about her boyfriend, Gerry, and how she was going to dump him if she saw him tonight.  We were driving through the parking lot when she spots him.  He runs up to the car to speak to her and she dumps him right there in front of us.  She says she never wants to see him again.  He looked so shocked and sad that before I knew it, I said, "I'll go out with you.  I'd love to actually."  So Donna parked the car and I got out and into Gerry's Nova.  We actually had a great time and he was very sweet.  I really couldn't understand why Wanda tossed him.  He seemed like a great catch.   We had such fun getting to know each other.  He told me that night his middle name was Shane.  Then I happened to see his driver's license and there was an "E" in the middle name spot.  So I had to guess what his real middle name was.  Eugene, no wonder he lied about it.  He hated it.
We began dating exclusively much to his mother's dismay.  I loved Gerry's family very much.  He came from a large Catholic family and I was a Baptist so that was strike number one against me.  Then his mom was uncomfortable with the fact that I was disabled.  But she learned to love me and I was very much a part of this wonderful family.
He took such good care of me.  One morning I was dreading going to work because it had snowed a lot during the night.  I had an apartment in an old house with a lot of stairs outside and I had to park on the street.  Going down the stairs and out to the car on crutches would be tricky plus scraping my car windows on top of that. When I walked out the front door there was a path shoveled all the way to my car and the windows were scraped clean.  He had done that on his way to work and he would continue to do that for me every morning after that.
In April of 1970 we were hit my a drunk driver while coming home from a wedding.  Gerry and I both had concussions but other then that, we were fine, however, my Mustang was toast. Shortly after that we decided we wanted to get married.  Something about going through that accident and surviving it bonded us in some way.  I did not feel comfortable turning Catholic so we eloped to Michigan.  My family knew but it was a shock to his.
Gerry wanted to have a baby right away.  After three months, I think he thought maybe I wasn't able to have children.  That fall we found ourselves expecting but something happened after that.  Now that I was pregnant it was like he didn't want to be around me any more.  I was very, very ill for five months so maybe he couldn't deal with all the throwing up but I rarely saw him.  I kept thinking after the baby came it would be better but it wasn't.  We would separate, reconcile, divorce for 3 years, reconcile, have another baby and divorce again.
Obviously I have left a great deal out of this part of my life but this blog is all about blessings.  So even though our relationship was very rocky, God gave us two of my biggest blessings.  Our two sons, Matthew Shane and Clayton Andrew. I love them very much and they have blessed me with four precious granddaughters.
God is so good to me in spite of my failures, weaknesses and my sin.  His grace is sufficient.

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