It was a hot, sunny day in May 1971 when my 37-year-old mother loaded the five of us kids into the pickup to take lunch to Daddy in the field where he was disking the ground. Living on a farm was a great life for us during those days. Everything we did related to being outside, going to the fields, riding in the back of the pickup, visiting neighbors, going to country school, and helping each other. I was 8, almost 9 years old, and loved being a farm kid. On that day in May, we crawled into the pickup at about the time Mom realized we had a flat tire. Groaning, she told us to get out, and she began to change the tire while we found some shade to wait.
By the time Mom finished the difficult task of changing the tire, we were ready to go and climbed back into the pickup. We could see Mom was agitated at the delay we experienced and wanted to get going. But as we pulled out on the road to head to the field, two vehicles approached from behind us. Mom immediately recognized them as our grandparents – both sets. She stopped and got out. She knew something was wrong when she saw their faces. We stayed in the pickup and watched as Mom gasped, cried out, and then she began to pass out from the news she received. Daddy was gone.
We all fell into shock at the news that our 35-year-old daddy had died in a farm accident, and the next hour became a blur as we returned to the house, packed up some clothes, and drove to town where my daddy’s parents lived. It took both cars to fit us all in. The miles seemed to pass in silence, then with sniffles, tears, and shock as we tried to process the trauma, we had just been dealt. I remember seeing people on the streets in town, doing their normal daily business, and wondering how they could go on while our world fell apart.
That summer was a tough one. We separated into different homes where we all had a place to stay – Mom with Daddy’s parents, we three sisters with one aunt and uncle, and my twin brothers with the other aunt and uncle. It was not ideal, but it was the best that could be done at the time. After the funeral, we spent one night on the farm, where a crazy storm passed over and sent us to the basement. After that, my mom determined we should stay in town with family. We continued our living arrangements most of the summer until a house could be found for us to live in just a quarter of a mile from town.
When we finally purchased a home, things changed because Mom had to switch from being a mother and homemaker to a full-time worker at the local bank. We still had sheep to show at the county fair, so a small pen was set up for them on our new property. We held a farm sale to dispense with the farm equipment, animals, and other things Daddy had gathered as a farmer and rancher. Life was trying to become normal for us, but everything seemed so traumatic, and we would all take the trauma with us in some form throughout our lives.
Getting used to being in the town’s public school was an adjustment we all had to make, from my 6-year-old twin brothers to my oldest sister, who was then about 13-14. After school, we walked to my grandparents’ house or to our aunts’ and uncles’ houses because Mom was still at work. She had the difficult task of rounding us all up after work, getting groceries some days, making us supper, getting us in and out of one bathroom for baths, and putting us to bed. To this day, she is a saint to me. She always made sure we got to church each Sunday, no matter what.
Our faith in God is what kept us going forward in the days ahead. God touched my heart in an unexpected way in 1970. When the pastor at our church asked if anyone wanted to accept Christ into his or her heart, I felt propelled forward to the front of the church, wanting the relationship with Christ that both my parents had. I accepted Christ into my heart and was baptized a few months before Daddy’s death. God’s timing…
As we grew up, we were blessed by our church friends and pastor, our youth group, getting to attend church camp as soon as we were old enough until we graduated from high school, and especially having the support of our aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. Without their support and our faith in the Lord, we would have ended up feeling lost. It was also helpful to see a Christian counselor who listened and put things into perspective for me.
After I graduated from high school, I attended college in Sioux Falls, SD, where I eventually met my wonderful, supportive husband, Jeff. Some of those years before we got together were dark. Being away from home, feeling trapped in Sioux Falls for the summer after my sophomore year, and increased feelings of anxiety and depression brought on anxiety attacks that brought fear into my life. I’ve had my ups and downs with anxiety and depression over the years, but the one sustaining factor was Christ. Without Him, my life might have ended because I felt I needed control and couldn’t grasp it.
God was preparing me for many trials that would come in the future: the deaths of my precious grandparents, the death of my beloved sister from ovarian cancer, and many deaths on my husband’s side of the family. I was with many of these loved ones as they took their final breaths, but God gave me the strength to get through it all somehow.
God has helped me understand that I’ve never needed to be “in control” because HE IS. Knowing how much He loves me and feels my grief, collects my tears, and watches out for me gives me peace that I might have never known. The days still come when tears flow, grief and loneliness try to overtake my soul, and the lack of control tempts me to put myself into situations where I don’t belong, but all I have to do is cry out, Jesus! He comes to my aid, and the Holy Spirit calms me, bringing peace and trust in Him.
My life verse is from II Timothy 1:7 (KJV) — “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” I live by this verse because it reminds me that Satan is the one who causes fear and the sense that I need to be in charge of things. God, on the other hand, gives us His Holy Spirit to provide the power to overcome these feelings, love to allow us to see others in a different way, and a mind to think clearly and learn more through His Word.
I am now 58 years old, and God is leading me to create a ministry through a children’s book or a memoir of my life and journey through trauma. My life experiences have led me to this point where I feel God’s leading. Currently, I write short articles for my blog and am working to be more consistent with that, but with God’s leading, I pray that all the glory goes to HIM in all that I do.
Written by Mary G. Johnson
About the Author: Mary Grace Johnson is a former English teacher and librarian who now subs at a Christian school and sells Usborne Books and More. She writes a blog focused on childhood trauma, daily thoughts, and reading tips. Having lived through the trauma of losing her dad as a child, she is looking to create a ministry to help other children who have faced losing a parent, which may include writing a children’s book and eventually a memoir. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys a quiet life with her husband Jeff and their adult children and grandchildren. Mary Grace spends her free time reading or loving on her grandchildren, ages 9, 4, and 3 weeks.
This is an updated edition of a post originally published on Jen Roland
Featured Image by Pete Linforth from Pixabay
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