Chap. 23: The War Is Over - Homecoming

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The War Is Over
Homecoming


The effect of that night on our relationship was total, and immediate. Like blowing the lid off the pressure cooker. And it showed.
Linda had been 4th in the line of Ida Chapter's officer's corps since election the previous November. Praise the Lord that He'd given her the presence of mind to keep that job independent of our marital problems. Now, with those out of the way, her zeal for involvement there was re-doubled. She spent every possible moment traveling our district with Mary Ann Hall, presiding of-ficer that year, who became, very rapidly, Linda's closest friend in the Chapter. The friendship was to remain throughout Linda's life.

We’d been attending First Christian Assembly of God church since May, and once again we were feeling fully “fed” by the Spirit. And that kind of support was a GENUINE blessing when I had to get Satan’s spirits out of Linda.
For some time, Linda and I had been discussing whether or not I would enjoy the Star, and whether I should join. I don't remember how (feminine wiles?), but that June Linda persuaded me to join. It meant something special to her by then, that if I was going in, that I do it during Mary Ann's year. And, since the top two officers in Eastern Star each had a Mason at their side as an ad-visor, even during the meetings, she openly admitted that her year in each of the top two positions wouldn’t be REALLY complete, the way she REALLY wanted those years to be, unless I was the Mason at her side.

In July we found ourselves moving again. This time it had been a while but it was still a hassle. Neither of us really liked the packing / moving / unpacking scenario that much (smile). This time it was economics. Our landlord was raising the rent, and we’d found a better deal. We moved to a similar apartment only about five minutes’ drive away. We were still close enough to her parents’ home for all of us to be really “OK” with the move. (As close as we’d become to them we wanted to remain as close as possible in terms of location. We felt better, and it satisfied her mother’s “protective” feelings. She could be at our place in “short order” if we needed her.) And yes, this one was also apartment #2. We didn’t quite get everything moved AND unpacked in that weekend, though. Remember what we’d said as we got things organized in that first apartment “way back” in 1968?
“It’s a good thing we’re just starting out, Lin.”
“Why, Jim?”
“I’d hate to think how much stuff we’d have to unpack if we’d been married ten years and just moved in.”
I rest my case…

As August approached, Linda and I decided to “complete” our commitment to Him by be-ing baptized the old fashioned way – fully immersed in the water. We’d both been baptized as in-fants, but that was with the drops of water on the forehead. This way is the way it was done when Jesus came to earth the first time and was baptized by John the Baptist. And we felt that was a great way to complete our commitment to Him, after having received His Spirit in 1977.
The next opportunity for the immersion baptism was scheduled for Sunday, August 6th and we made certain we were signed up. It would be done as part of the late morning (11:00 AM) service.
That morning we found that we were two of seven who had requested the baptism. It was gratifying to us to see others making the same added commitment in their faith. After changing into special gowns for the service, we lined up as they called our names and waited our turn.
Soon, Linda’s time for the baptism had come. Just like at the Luther’s in ’77, when she had no problem totally surrendering to the Spirit and receiving her prayer language in seconds, she had no hesitation here, either. When Pastor (Clyde C.) Miller motioned for her, she walked into the water basin built behind the altar. Head held high and totally sure of what she wanted to do, she stepped right up into the position into which she had seen Pastor Miller guiding those before her. After introducing her to the congregation, he placed one arm behind her to support her, and used the other hand to hold her nose. Within a matter of a few seconds she had received the classic bap-tism. Proudly, she walked out the other side of the water basin then stood out of sight of the con-gregation to watch my moment.
Since we had received the Spirit prior to this baptism, I felt completely at ease as I stepped into that water basin. I’m not one who likes being the center of attention. Yet, just like that evening at the Luther’s home in ’77 when we walked to the center of their living room together to receive the Spirit, this walk was just as effortless for me. Once again He takes care of even the slightest fear or hesitation. I had watched closely as Linda was baptized and easily assumed the same posi-tion. I’d thought it might be difficult for Pastor Miller to lay me back into the water and lift me out again, as I’m a little heavier than I’d like to be. Silly me. It didn’t occur to me until afterward that obviously the Spirit was most certainly going to be there to assist one of its best representatives in doing such an important part of God’s work. As with Linda, following my introduction to the con-gregation, in a matter of seconds it was done. As my head entered the water, completing my im-mersion I felt a warm wave of Love come over me, and felt as though a world of problems had been lifted from my shoulders as I stood up again. I proudly walked out of the basin to her side and we went to put on our street clothes once again and resume our seats in the congregation.
“Lin, what did it feel like when you went under and when you came back up?” I asked. I wanted to find out if she felt the same sensations as I had at my time.
“Well, when I went under I just felt warm and comforted all over, as if God was letting me know He was with me. And when I came back up I didn’t have a worry in the world. What about you, honey?”
“I felt the same sensations, sweetheart. That’s why I asked you. I was wondering if I was the only one of us that felt those things, or if each of us would feel something different and unique. It’s neat the way He will show us in so many ways that He’s with us. It’s very reassuring.”
“Yes it is, Jim,” she said as we left our dressing room and rejoined the congregation. As we approached our seats we had many of the other members congratulating us on taking that step in our faith. As we sat down for the remainder of the service, we both had a deep, warm feeling that He was truly with us, even at the moment we took our seats. I was beginning to get excited, inside, thinking things like “If He can make a simple baptism that wonderful and exciting, imagine what He can do with the real problems in our lives!”
We went home that day with a fully renewed sense of the Spirit in our hearts and in our lives.
At the lodge’s stated business meeting on Wednesday, September 13th I took, and success-fully passed the oral exam for the Master Mason degree. It wasn’t long thereafter that I was asked if I’d like to begin going through the officer’s line in lodge. As yet they hadn’t filled the position of Junior Deacon, fifth in line to the Master’s chair. Having thoroughly enjoyed the degree work as I’d gone through them, I jumped at the chance. Having consented to take that seat, I had only to be voted in, along with the rest of the officers for the coming year, at the annual election to take place during the Stated Meeting in November.
Shortly after passing my Master Mason degree exam (you had to be a Master Mason to join the Star), my petition for membership was submitted and, after meeting with a committee of Star members as I had with lodge members earlier this year, approved.
In October, the annual elections for the Star were held. After two inconclusive ballots, Linda was elected to the 3rd chair in line. Now she had to start making plans for her two biggest years, as 2nd in command and, finally, as presiding officer.
On Wednesday, November 8th, 1978 I was appointed to the Senior Steward’s chair in Harry K. Eversull Lodge #754, F& AM. I’d opted to start near the bottom of the line, rather than as Jun-ior Deacon, so I’d know all the ropes firsthand before I reached the Master’s chair. The next night, the 9th, I became a member of Ida Chapter #416, Order of the Eastern Star. By making arrange-ments through Mary Ann, Linda was able to stand at my side throughout the initiation ceremony. And that just made the whole event, and the evening, as complete as they could have been for her. I joined the Star, in Mary Ann's year, and Linda was at my side. She was ecstatic. I wasn't sure, even then, how involved or interested I would become in the affairs of the Chapter, but never, to the day she died, did I tell her that. I had to consider the possibility that I would indeed become a very active member. Only I wasn't sure at that time. But the thing was, even if I had known one way or the other, I just couldn't spoil that night for her. That was all that really mattered.

She worked even more feverishly now than before. Visiting other chapters. Getting to know their officers. Barring unforeseen circumstances, the girls holding her chair in the other chapters would also finish the remaining two chairs in their Chapters' lines, and all would be pre-siding officers the same year - 1981. So getting to know them now would make that "toughest" year much easier for all of them. I worked many hours with her to help her perfect her part of the ceremonies. She wanted her speeches to be letter-perfect. And I couldn't blame her. I made the same effort in regard to my speeches for the Lodge ceremonies. And besides, as shy as she'd been for years about dealing with people, this experience was good for her. Now she had to make speeches in front of people. Attending members, visitors from other chapters, and for the annual inspection, visiting state-level officers.
Her first effort at the speeches came that December. She was a "nervous wreck", but she got through it with a minimum of prompting. I had been afraid that the high level of nervous ten-sion she felt would trigger a seizure. But, Praise the Lord! She didn't even come close. And, better than that, though it was something we both feared occasionally, not once throughout her member-ship in the Star did she have a seizure the night of a meeting. Praise the Lord! He watches over His children. (Only a small handful of her closest friends in the chapter knew of the epilepsy. She would likely have had some difficulty surviving the embarrassment of that situation and returning to Chapter, though I’m certain her faith and her zeal for the institution would have made it far eas-ier for her to do than she anticipated, and also something she would have felt very strongly about doing.)
As the weeks passed, and the meetings came and went, her fears dissipated almost com-pletely, and her delivery became almost letter-perfect, very believable, very real. As if she lived the part she played. Because she did.
Between meeting nights, and on weekends, we were lucky if we saw each other a few hours each day. She was busily running about, taking care of all the other little "outside the [Star] office that she now held" duties that were now her responsibility.
I, on the other hand, was busily rebuilding another player piano, or taking care of my duties as Senior Steward of the Lodge.
We could never be sure who would get home first, or when. But we knew a warm, loving embrace awaited us. And the physical contact we found time for each night became more and more meaningful.
It wasn't long after we’d cast out Satan’s spirit from her body before we remembered what we'd learned early in the marriage for ourselves - that open communication, trust, faith and basic intimate contact meant a lot more to a marriage than making love every night. Little things like open communication. We never lost that; remember the Ron Mullens affair? Praise the Lord, through all our trials our openness remained with us. And more little things like believing our part-ner wasn't "fooling around" anymore (trust). Believing, through each other, and God, that the rela-tionship would work (faith). And as for that basic intimate contact? One of our favorite forms of that quickly became an affectionate swat on the fanny after a hug. And, once in a while I’d unin-tentionally do it a little too hard. But, true to our love, she took those with the same affection with which they were intended: "I know, Jim. The only time I have to worry is when you don’t do that!" And, we always found time for a few moments of intimate physical caressing each night before we went to sleep, regardless of whether or not we made love. How well did we sleep? Like logs.
The seizures were still making their presence known. But now that Satan was out of the way and we were closer to God than ever before, He didn’t hesitate to let us know in interesting and loving ways that He was with us. One of the best examples of that, for us, came when her lat-est seizure hit late that year. I was sitting in a chair in our living room, beneath the front window of our apartment. She came walking in from the hall, entering from the far end of the room. As she walked directly toward me, the seizure hit when she was just a few feet away. This time, though, I didn’t have time to move a muscle before she fell the remainder of that distance, still directly to-ward me. I thought about getting up to try and catch her, but didn’t have time to react. She hit the floor, face down at my feet with a thud, and continued her physical motion. As I looked down at her right after she hit the floor, I openly realized that God had kept me from getting up out of that chair by making me try and decide whether I should or not. That was a long enough delay for her to land in the position He wanted, to protect her. She lay before me, face down, with her cheeks on my shoes and her nose sticking in the space between my feet. He’d kept me there so she could fall without breaking her nose. There was no other explanation, for me, as to how else that could have taken place. The measurements were just too precise to be a matter of chance. My feet were barely far enough apart for her nose to fit between them. But it had worked perfectly. Praise the Lord! I gently got up, easing her head to the floor, then turned her over on her back so she could breathe easier and made sure she wasn’t laying on any limbs. By now she was into Phase II, snoring heav-ily.
When I told her, later, what had happened, she was as thrilled as I had been to know how closely He was watching over us.
The early weeks of 1979 came and went. March 18, Linda's 30th birthday. As I had every year since our wedding, I gave her a dozen long-stemmed red roses. I made a point of it this year, though. I didn't want to make her journey over a "landmark" age like 30 any harder for her than it had to be. But as it turned out, it was no problem anyway. With her childlike attitude, she just passed the whole thing off like water off a duck's back. It never did bother her. Not even later. She just plain never felt her age.
Our annual inspections for Star and the Lodge came and went as well. By April they were both behind us. And was I glad to get that Lodge inspection behind me! I prayed beforehand, and I got through it with His help. But, humanly, it was still a relief to have it in the past instead of the future. Those inspections were done each year by deputies in each organization that were chosen by the state level officers. The intent is to make certain that the ritual work is being followed prop-erly at all times, and in a capable manner. Both of our inspections went extremely well.
Over the last year or so, Linda had begun to gain weight. The fascinating thing is, neither of us gave it one bit of thought. I basically didn’t notice it, or if I did it certainly didn’t change the way I felt about her. I still loved her, as deeply as ever, found her just as appealing to look at, and certainly as sexually attractive as she’d always been to me. And there is no doubt in my mind that she knew by the fact that I continued to say the loving things I’d told her all those years and that I continued to treat her as lovingly and intimately as I had in all our years together, that the weight, even if she had noticed it, made absolutely no difference in the way I felt about her. (That last phrase should sound familiar…smile).

The first months of 1979 saw the successful completion of restoration on two beautiful baby grand players, each worth about $12,000 at the time. These were the two that had been the foundation of our shop efforts in '77. The pneumatic work that Linda Bickleman had done was per-fect. Every component she rebuilt went into those pianos without a single bit of additional work. And both owners were extremely pleased with the finished result. (On Sunday, January 16, 2000, I ran into Linda Bickleman at First Christian Assembly. When I told her about the quality of that work, she was quite pleased to hear it, even if it did take 23 years for her to find out. We had a good laugh about that time period. JAW 1/20/00)
On the homefront, Linda and I had become a good bit serious in our efforts to start a fam-ily. Whether she was able to respond outwardly or not, we made love much more frequently, but to no avail. Medical checkup for Linda indicated no physical problems, so we just began following some guidelines on timing that the doctor had given her, and continued our efforts in earnest.
About that time, too, Linda and I ended up in a discussion about the length of her hair. I don’t remember, now, what brought it up, but I did confess to wanting to see what she would look like with longer hair, and that I would like running my fingers through that hair.
True to her devotion to me, she let it grow. I loved the way it looked, and felt, and I let her know it. She kept it that way just for me. And I found myself wondering, maybe fantasizing, about how much more of a knockout she would have been in that beautiful white, strapless formal if her hair had been that long then.
June of that year found us still trying to conceive, and deciding that a little extra income wouldn't hurt in the meantime. So Linda took the Civil Service exam. We figured the government would be one of the best chances for her to get a job she liked where the epilepsy would not be a major factor in the hiring or promotion process.
Her original application, after passing the exam, was for work at the Post Office. Nothing came of that, but in August she was interviewed for and offered a job with NIOSH (National In-stitute of Occupational Safety and Health), under the old HEW (Dept. of Health, Education and Welfare). She started that September.
It didn’t take long for her to make some very close friends there, as she had done at the publishing company (remember Suite 1313 on the 13th floor?) There were a couple times I was in-vited to join them at the office, when my shift permitted. One, I think was a birthday party for one of them where they invited the families, or something like that; maybe a retirement gathering. Anyway, it was obvious just from watching her that she was among friends, and friends who cared a good deal about her, epilepsy and all. Again like the publishing company job, she was respected for the person she was, and for her abilities. And, as before, she thrived on it.

That October we were elected to the 2nd highest offices in the Chapter. The fact that I had agreed to "go through the chairs" with her was, I sometimes think, the biggest single happiness in her life, next to the night she discovered I was going to stay and become a part of her life. And our wedding, of course.
That November I was elected to the Senior Deacon’s chair in the officer’s line at the Lodge. I was skipping the Junior Deacon’s chair, but the Master-Elect had asked if I would so they would have the more experienced person in the higher chair. A newer member would take the Junior Deacon’s chair. The combination of both elections meant I now held an office in each or-ganization where I had to make some of the ritual presentation speeches myself. I’d had some recitation to do as Senior Steward, but that was minimal. A few lines each degree. The Senior Deacon’s part was much more involved. And while I really loved the old English, and the work it-self, for the first few meetings following my installation, my thoughts immediately went back to that 4th grade play once again. But, I had help. With the Lord watching over us I knew that it had to come out the way He wanted it, letter perfect or not. And, with Linda in attendance in her chair in Chapter, I couldn’t very well mess it up, because I couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing, or worse, embarrassing her. On the Lodge side, I now had to introduce any visiting Masonic digni-taries to the Master for recognition, which meant speaking in front of all in attendance in those meetings as well. I was equally nervous about that, but again, with the Lord behind me I shouldn’t have been, and with dad (George) there more often than not, I had to do a good job. I certainly didn’t want to disappoint him with bad ritual work after all he’d done for me since I left home and went on my own some 12 years before. Not to mention his willingness to sign and submit my peti-tion for membership. Since he had that kind of faith in me, I couldn’t let him down. After all, he was [now] my father, too. So, time to grow up some more and lose the fear of public speaking.
Early in December, Linda found out how secure that job really was. This particular night, we'd just finished supper and were headed for the living room to relax. A couple of TV shows, maybe a little reading. That sort of thing. She sat down and started to pick up the book she was currently reading.
"Oww!" Thud! The book fell back onto the table.
"What's the matter, love?"
"Well, I had a seizure today at work, and...."
"You o.k.?" I cut in.
"Yeah. Really. Anyway, I was in the bathroom, of all places, in one of the stalls. Well, when I fell, I went forward, toward the closed stall door. I don't think I hit that, because my head's not sore on top. And you know how hard I'm shoved when those muscles take over."
"Yeah. 'Faster than a speeding bullet'", I said, quoting Superman.
"Right," she chuckled. "Well, from what I can tell, when I fell, my left hand was under-neath me. I must have fallen on it. 'Cos when they found me, they said it was a little blue. Like I'd stopped the circulation for a minute or so. But I guess I bent my pinkie backwards or something. It hurts like hell when I bend it."
I walked over to her seat and checked it out. "It doesn't feel broken," I concluded. Maybe you just gave it a hell of a sprain."
"That's what it sounds like to me, too."
"Let's not take any chances, though, honey. If it's still bothering you in a few days, we'll run over to Mercy and get it taken care of." I left no doubt in my choice of words or my voice tone about what we would do if it still hurt. I'd noticed early in the marriage that she never tired of finding out how much I cared. No matter how I showed it. And this showed it once again. I knew she'd pick it up. She’d been doing just that for years.
About a week later, it was still giving her problems. And now it wouldn't bend all the way, either. I drove her to the emergency room at Mercy Hospital.
Boy, were we in for a surprise! We soon discovered that it had indeed, been broken all along. They re-broke it (it had started to heal wrong - that's why it wouldn't bend), set it and put a cast on it, covering most of that hand. She could use only the fore- and middle fingers. And then only for what she could grasp with the rest of the hand acting like a club. Remember that iron skillet I gave her? Now she just waved her club at me: "If I ever catch you 'out with the boys' when you should be home with me, I'm gonna let you have it!"
I sure was glad to see she could laugh at it, though. Because that cast was to stay on for five weeks. And suddenly, I had a beautiful opportunity to show my love in a new way, and, admit-tedly, enjoy myself at the same time.
For those 5 weeks, she couldn't bathe or dress herself. The cast had to be kept dry, and she couldn't handle buttons one-handed, or the bra. Sure, you learn to improvise and solve these prob-lems when you live with them for years. That's why the handicapped can handle it. But those of us who are "normal" don't know how important the simplest task can be. Or how difficult. Until we can't do it anymore. Then we realize how much we've taken for granted. Fortunately, Linda was right-handed. But that didn't mean much for things that needed two hands regardless.
Even here, the beauty of our relationship showed through. Yes, she knew I thoroughly en-joyed bathing her and dressing her. That's why, near the end of those 5 weeks, when she'd mas-tered some of the techniques needed, she still let me help as much as I wanted to. Besides, just like it was when we first conquered our shyness about an intimate relationship, she still, after 11 years of marriage, never tired of experiencing loving, intimate contact between us, regardless of what form it took. And yet, she always knew that even if I hadn't enjoyed the work, I would have done it, out of the depth of our love. My touch during bathing was gentle and caressing. And she laugh-ingly understood and guided me when I couldn't get the finer points of appearance right on one of her outfits.
By year's end, she was as happy a person as anyone could be. She had everything she wanted. She was totally content. And as happy as I would ever see her.


This work is taken from “A Once In A Lifetime Love: An Autobiography of Two High School Sweethearts”, copyright 2000, as yet unpublished, by the same author.