"How Precious Did That Grace Appear..."

     I have been shocked to learn in the last few years, of the many misconceptions and questions from people close to us, about Ted's spiritual journey.  He talked so much about it that I just assumed that everyone knew and understood his testimony.  Apparently not...from the statements I've heard and the questions I've received, I've come to realize that people in his own family knew very little about the circumstances surrounding the biggest decision he ever made in his life, the one that changed everything about his life.  For that reason, I decided to write it all down, from my perspective.  Since I was there for most of his spiritual journey, (we were married 40 years) I can at least tell my point of view and fill in a lot of the gaps from before I came on the scene.
     Ted was raised in a Lutheran home by a mother who came from a Polish Catholic background.  She told stories of her Grandfather, Yon Maris.  He was a devout man and the "scripture reader" for his little village in Poland.  He had one daughter who became a Nun.  Mom was very proud of her Catholic family and their Christian service and her mother was faithful to the Lord and her church until the day she died.  When Ted took me to meet his grandmother after we married, she took us by the hand, led us over to her little "shrine" on the buffet, lit a candle and pushed us to our knees while she prayed blessings on our new home.  I, of course, didn't understand anything she prayed because it was all in Polish, but I figured that God understood Polish and I loved her for it.  Ted's grandfather, having suffered through the first world war and being poisoned by mustard gas, came back bitter and disillusioned, gave up his faith and as far as we know, died an agnostic.

Confirmation

     When Ted's mother married Ernest Gehrke she became a Lutheran and they were active in Zion Lutheran Church throughout their marriage.  Ted was baptized and confirmed there.  His best friend in school was the son of their pastor and Ted was very close to the family.  The Beuhler family always topped our "visitor's list" when we went home to Ohio.
     In spite of all of this, Ted told me that he never really gave God a second thought until about 4th grade when his school was visited by the Gideons.  They gave each child a small New Testament and Ted started reading it, a little every day.  Although he had been in Sunday  School and church service almost every Sunday of his life, there seemed to be something "magic" in that little bible.  One day, walking home from school alone, he began thinking about Jesus and the things he'd been reading.  He walked a ways off the path and into the trees, knelt and scoped up a little "alter" of leaves and put his bible on top of it.  Then he prayed.  I'm not sure what he prayed but in his child heart, he said he "connected" with God for the first time in his life.
     Years later when we were dating, I, the "good" Baptist girl, felt compelled to ask him if he was a Christian.  To answer me he quoted The Apostle's Creed.  I was impressed!  I thought, Wow, that's certainly more than I know about it.!  So we married and I went through Catechism and like my mother-in-law before me, became a Lutheran.  The church where I was confirmed was a large congregation in Victoria, Texas.  It was a great church.  Ted and I joined the choir, the young marrieds class and everything else they'd let us into.  We loved it and made some great friends there. 
     When we moved from Victoria to Arizona we had a hard time getting back into church.  The nearest Lutheran church to us was in Phoenix, (we lived in Glendale, Arizona) and we didn't always have the gasoline to make the trip. From there Ted went to Spain and Joel and I traveled between grandparents.  When we were with my parents, we went to the Baptist church. When we were with Ted's parents, we went to Zion Lutheran.  When we joined him in Spain, there was no church.  At Christmas and Easter we attended the midnight mass at the Cathedral up the street.

     As a result of living the "Air Force adventure", faith took a back seat in our lives and we became "nominal" Christians.  It really no longer seemed important to us. We were happy.  We traveled the world, had three healthy babies and other than money always being tight, we had few worries.  As a couple we "liked" each other and most of the time, had fun together.
     Sometime during those years we lost a friend in a tragic auto accident and I made the statement that "he is in a better place".  I was shocked when Ted, in his depression, responded by saying, "I don't know if I believe that."
     "What do you mean?" I asked. "Where is your faith?"
     "Faith to believe is a gift from God and I don't think he has given me that gift yet." he said.
     I didn't argue with him but that night I called my Daddy and told him about it, then asked him if what Ted had said was true.
     "Yep, he's right." replied Daddy.
     "Then why doesn't God just give everyone faith and be done with it?" I asked.
     "Well," he drawled, Faith comes by hearing and hearing by the Word of God!  Have you been going to church?"
     "No." I admitted.
     "Well, there you go!" he said.
      By the time we got to South Carolina the pressures of poverty caught up with us and neither of us responded well to pressure.  At one time we owed money on five broken down cars.  Plus we had to pay our normal living expenses, rent, utilities, groceries and various appliances we'd gone in debt to acquire.  Ted was on his first stint as an Air Traffic Controller, a very stressful job, and to make ends meet, he worked an extra job as a delivery man.  I too had a full time job outside the home and left the kids in the care of a baby sitter until I got home in the evening.  Ted came in much later, tired and stressed and we saw each other briefly before crashing into bed and starting over early the next morning.  The kids hardly saw him at all and when they did they annoyed him because he just wanted rest.  Sunday was our only day to "sleep in" and the thought of giving that up for church was impossible.
     Life was no longer fun.  We argued continually and began to avoid each other.  We couldn't afford a vacation to relax and reconnect.  Our kids were pushed away as we began to spin around ourselves in search of relief.
     During that time Ted started working with a Sargent named Quincy Kirby.  Quincy could see the stress in Ted, so he started writing down little scripture verses on sticky notes and leaving them on the desks and consoles for Ted to find.  Ted began looking forward to them.  He said they were like cool drinks of water to his parched soul.  They gave him peace and answers and helped him employ some self control.
     During that time, for the kid's sake, we periodically attended a small Presbyterian  Church in the country close to our home.  It was a beautiful old Southern church, surrounded by mossy trees.  The people were warm and welcoming and it comforted us when we went there.  Then Quincy invited us to attend his Baptist church in Sumter  on Sunday evenings.  So one Sunday night we decided to go.
     We didn't intend to make this a habit but the preaching was interesting, the people were friendly and they had a gospel pianist that fairly made the instrument "dance".  It was hard to come up with the extra gasoline every week but we found ourselves sacrificing so we could do it because it became such a bright spot in our otherwise bleak lives.
     Several weeks after we started these Sunday night excursions, our relationship came to a boiling point.  After one particularly terrible Saturday morning, I made the decision to take the kids and leave.  I called my parents and asked if they would send bus tickets to me and the kids and they said they would.  I gathered my courage and confronted Ted later that morning and told him of my plan.  I said it would be a "temporary separation".  We could give up the house, sell the car and he could move on base and save some money so we could get ahead financially.  I told him that neither of us could take the pressure anymore and this just seemed like the reasonable and intelligent thing to do.
     Ted didn't interrupt me.  He just stood in the kitchen crying.  As I watched him I began crying too, so I stopped talking.  Finally he said, "Please don't take my kids away from me."
     "Why?" I asked.  "They just annoy you anyway."
     "Yes, they do." he admitted, "and so do you, but you are all I have that will keep me going.  If you leave me I'll have no reason to keep trying."
     Well, that did it for me.  I knew I couldn't take his kids away from him, not now...not ever!  I don't know what it would have taken for me to do that, maybe physical abuse, and other than yelling, stomping out and slamming doors, he;d never gotten close to that.  I just stood there crying, helpless and confused. It was one of those, "I can't live with him and I can't live without him!" moments.
     Finally he spoke again, "Just give me a week."
     "What's going to change in a week?" I asked.
     "I don't know, but if something doesn't change you can leave." he answered.
     That night I had a dream.  I'm not sure of it's importance but I've never been able to forget it and when I looked back on it, I saw the significance of it.  I dreamed that we were walking along the beach (It was Myrtle Beach South Carolina to be specific.)  I looked ahead of us and was surprised to see empty graves dug in a row up and down the shore.  I felt cold with fear when I saw them, then suddenly Ted ran to the nearest grave and jumped in!  I started crying and yelling for him to stop.  Then someone close behind me said, "It's okay.  He had to do this."
      The next day was Sunday and we did our Sunday "thing"... morning with the Presbyterians and evening with the Baptist.  Only that night something happened at the Baptist church.  Ted went forward at the end of the church service and "joined" the church.  I felt like an earthquake had just hit our lives.  I thought he'd finally snapped.
     On the way home the car was quiet... even the kids.  I think they could sense the tension, all except Tim.  He was asleep two minutes after he got into the car.
     Finally I said, "Do you want to explain what you just did?"
     He sat there a few minutes before he answered me.  Finally he said, "I gave my life to Christ."
     Then it was my turn.  I felt betrayed and confused.  I had followed him into the Lutheran Church.  I had been happy there when we actually had a church.  I would have been happy to stay there the rest of my life if we actually attended a Lutheran church... and now he was becoming a Baptist!   It was outrageous!  So I responded in the most reasonable way I could think of to respond.  I said, "Well you can be a Baptist if you want to.  The kids and I will stay Lutheran!"
     The next day after he left for work I called my parents and spilled out all my anger to my mom.  She listened patiently then said, "We have been praying for you and Ted." 
     "I don't know what to do!" I whined.
     Mother said, "Well, if you keep following him around long enough, maybe he'll end up going in the right direction."  I wasn't sure what that meant, so I ended the conversation and said good-by. 
     Needless to say, for the next week I watched him closely, not knowing what to expect.  I was surprised that he was uncharacteristically quiet that week.  We didn't talk much and when we did he was calmer than usual.  He told me later that he was trying to process the turn his life had taken.
     I'd like to tell you that he sprouted a halo and never again had another temper fit, but that wouldn't be true.  However there were some profound changes in him right away.  I saw him get up every morning and read his bible!   Of course I thought he was just doing that to impress me, but like everything else in his life, he couldn't be quiet about it. When Ted learned something he always had to share it with someone else so, he preached to me and the kids all week.  I also noted after a couple days that he was sleeping better.  Previously he had gotten up two or three times a night, crashing around the semi dark house, waking up me and the kids.  Another change I observed was his "deliverance" from Tums!  Now before you laugh at that, let me assure you that it had been a serious problem for a couple years.  He couldn't eat a meal without a handful of Tums.  Sometimes he'd stop in the middle of dinner and chew two or three so he could finish eating.  He had been to the Doctor about it and they assured him that he didn't have an ulcer and gave him Maalox.  He could never take anything "chalky" so Tums were the next best thing.  But the week after he "gave his life to Christ" he stopped taking Tums.  I don't think he even noticed it himself, then one day I said, "Ted, why aren't you taking Tums anymore?"
     He looked a little surprised then said, "I guess I don't need them anymore.  I feel fine."
     And...he started praying!  We had always prayed for our meals... mostly for the kids sake, but Ted started praying privately, then telling me when God answered his prayers.  Once again I thought he had become one of those weird religious fanatics.
     All these things encouraged me not to buck him about going back to the Baptist church.  I had to admit I liked the changes, even if I didn't understand them and after a while I decided I liked the "religious fanatic" better than the guy with whom I'd been living.  Over time I saw him began to exercise some discipline over his temper.  Instead of freaking out about everything, he would put on some Christian music or just walk away for a while.  In short, Ted began to live a life of faith.
     He told me later that that first week he "slept somewhere between the sheets and heaven".  He said that the most profound change he saw in himself was that anxiety was replaced by peace.  He said also that for the first time in a long time he really believed that there was "Somebody bigger than himself" in charge, and it was a great relief.
     After some time had passed and we were able to talk about it he told me, "I always knew that if I really believed all that the Bible said, I'd have to give my whole life to it.  I finally got to the place where I was so miserable and so desperate that I said to God, "Okay, I'll accept it even if I don't believe it intellectually and just trust You with all of the questions." When I did that, I found the faith to believe."  He said that it was a real "surrender" on his part because growing up he had admired people like, James Dean (the actor) and had been obsessed with being "cool" and being "religious" just wasn't "cool".  "I had to give up on "cool", he said.


November 1994

     Now I'm not sure how to define what happened to Ted or even when it happened for sure.  Was it when he was baptized and confirmed, or when as a child he knelt in those Ohio woods and prayed and "connected" with God or when as an adult he prayed in that Baptist church and "gave his life to Christ"?  So, don't ask me if Ted "became a Christian" when he was a Lutheran, or when he was being "comforted" by the Presbyterians, or when he "joined" the Baptist church.  He was on a spiritual journey all the way through his life.  Like any good story, it had a beginning, a climax and an end.  Ted  loved all three churches and gave them honor throughout his life.     But one other eye opening thing he told me years later, was that the theme song of his life should be the second verse of Amazing Grace, "Twas Grace that taught my heart to fear and Grace my fears relieved. How precious did that Grace appear, the hour I first believed." 
      How fitting that when this Christian soldier was laid to rest, his pall bearers marched to his grave-side singing that hymn.  No one had requested it.  They just did it on their own.  I was probably the only one there that really understood the significance of it.  It was a wink from God to me saying, "I've got this, Laura.".