An Evolving Christian

While spending a week at the family lake cabin on Lake Sam Rayburn, the book I chose to read was Evolving in Monkey Town, by Rachel Held Evans. I had heard of this book and had the sample read on my Kindle. A couple of years ago I heard Evans speak at the ACU (Abilene Christian University) Summit Lectureship. So, I was somewhat familiar with who Rachel Held Evans was as a speaker and author. I then, made the decision to download her whole book and give it a read. Best decision thus far this trip.

This post is not meant to be a review of Rachel Held Evans’ book, but a sorting out of the impact her book, which chronicles her doubts about her beliefs, had on me. I was glad to learn the book was not really about monkeys or even evolution of man, but instead, an evolution of Evan’s doubts about God and her journey to find answers to some tough questions. It is encouraging that even though I’m 31 years her senior, that a 20-something year old woman expressed so well with profound meaning what has been churning in my mind for many years now.

All of my life I have believed in God, Jesus as my Savior and the divine truth of scripture. My prayers to God have turned into personal requests for help with doubts lately. Similar to Rachel Held Evans, my childhood routines revolved around church activities and weekly worship services. Church attendance, Bible reading, Sunday School have been part of my life since birth. As a preteen/teenager, I didn’t attend dances, drink alcohol or wear short shorts. I attended church services literally every time the doors were opened, church camp every summer from the time I was old enough, monthly youth devotionals as a teen and summer Vacation Bible Schools since the beginning of time. My dad was a deacon in our church, then an elder and on occasion stepped for the preacher when he was out of town. I knew all of my home congregation’s preachers personally. State universities were not even on my radar when I chose a Christian university to attend after high school. In my mind, attending a Christian college meant I’d finally be around more people who thought like me. The boys I’d date would all be Christians, or so I thought. Even today, some 40+ years later, I need to know my doubts and questions are not uncommon. Rachel Held Evans’ written words resonated with some of the same “why” questions I’ve had about God.

A Mother's Memory

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All day long, the young teacher anxiously went about her duties collecting milk money, setting out paper and crayons as she introduced a new group of kindergarten students to all that was before them in the coming school year. However, the teacher’s mind was elsewhere, a short drive away with her 7-month-old baby boy at a babysitter’s house for his first day. That morning the young teacher/mom had reluctantly left her son with a seasoned babysitter with whom she trusted. However, the teacher’s mind returned to her son all day long with questions: Would he be okay, would he take his nap, will he cry, would the babysitter pay enough attention to him while also watching four pre-k children? The young mother resisted the urge to phone the babysitter to see how their day was going.  As an occasional lump came to her chest and she thought about her son, she fought back tears throughout her day. The teacher realized 22 five-year-old students had been left by their parents and also required her full attention. “I will just have to trust that Jason is okay and make it through this day”, she thought. 

In 1977, I was a 24-year old mother and kindergarten teacher. My husband, Kim, was a high school theater arts teacher. Our plan had been for me to stay home with Jason and not teach that year. The strain of paying bills led me to return to work. Leaving Jason that first anxious day of school so I could return to work made for a stressful day. At the end of the day, I rushed back to Baytown from Highland as fast as I could.  As I approached a traffic light and yellow turned red, I proceeded down the road and a policeman pulled me over to discuss running red lights. I began to cry and attempted to explain that I had left my 7-month old baby boy with a new baby sitter for the first time and was anxious to get back to him.  I guess the policemen had pity on this new mom because he let me off with a warning to drive safely.

Soon after I left the police encounter, all my fears were squelched as I saw Jason in the capable hands of Aunt BeBe, as her “kids” affectionately knew her. She gave me a glowing report of his day while he happily smiled at me. We really loved Aunt BeBe and could see her apparent love for all the kids in her care. Our second son, Kyle, would also stay with Aunt BeBe up until the year Jason was 5 years old. After which we found another lady to watch our brood of little boys who grew in number with the birth of son number three, Ryan, and Jason entered kindergarten.

Now, thirty-six years later, Dr. Jason Kelly Martin began this school year as the Clinical Director of the Community Life Center, and Assistant Professor of Counseling at the University of Mary-Hardin Baylor in Belton. My interest about whether he is having a good day or what he is doing still pops into my thoughts, but of course I trust he is doing fine. Accomplished in his field of study alongside being a wonderful husband and dad, Jason makes my heart swell with love and pride to be his parent.

All of my sons make me proud. It has and continues to be a fun ride with the boys, so my motto remains as always, There is never a dull moment. Wherever their lives take them, I am more than willing to be part of the journey.

Jason, Ryan, Kyle about 1984

Ryan, Kyle, Jason, summer 2013

Memorial Day, 2013

Daddy, E. L. "Jiggs" Ritchey

Today my husband gets a day off from teaching school along with millions of other people in our country. Memorial Day is a day to remember the people who have served and are presently serving in our armed forces. What a daunting task! To be in the military to risk one's own life and give up the comforts of home is unthinkable to me. I am grateful to all of the men and women serving at home and abroad to protect us from enemies who wish us harm.

God bless all of the armed forces who have gone to war over the years. Fighting, dying doesn't seem right to me, but I was not ever in any position to fight. I'm neither strong nor brave. My dad and his 3 brothers all went to war back in the 1940's. One of those brothers was lost after surviving the battle at Midway when his aircraft went down somewhere in the Pacific only six weeks later. My grandfather suited up for WWI. Those were wars before my time.

Johnny E. Ritchey & Me

Two years after I was born, the Vietnam War broke out in 1955. Later, in about '62 or '63, my brother, Johnny, was drafted and enlisted in the Army. He was only 20 or 21 years old. I would have been about 10 or 11 years old at the time and I recall being scared for my brother leaving home and his newlywed to go off to training where we were not supposed to correspond with him.

Johnny often went hunting with our granddad and was really good with a rifle. He was also very smart and had graduated from high school in the top 10 of his class. He received a scholarship to Lamar University to pursue an engineering degree. He completed 2 years of college, then dropped out to make a living for he and his newlywed. That was when he was drafted. As long as he was in school, he could be exempt from the draft. Dropping out of school and his number coming up sent him further away from home.

Johnny achieved the rank of captain and was in charge of a platoon at one of his boot camps. He once told me a story of a time when he was awaken by a private bursting into his barracks yelling that one of his men was drunk (or on drugs) shouting and waving a gun around. Johnny said he ran out and had to wrestle the crazed man to the ground putting him in a head-lock. He told me the incident happened fast and really scared him. With all that adrenaline pumping through his veins at the time, he had not noticed the wild man turning purple in the face until another private told him. He immediately let go of his grip so the soldier could breath again, almost killing the man. War didn't just happen on the battle fields. As captain of his platoon, he told of another guy who was terrible at using a syringe during their medic training. No one wanted to be his partner and get stuck by that guy, so Johnny volunteered. Ouch!

From Fort Poke, Louisiana, he flew to Japan. From there, a large percentage of the soldiers were sent to Vietnam to fight. He was spared from the 80 sent and got to stay in Japan where he worked with the medics, and had other duties I don't know about. I do know he drove a bus and picked up wounded who were flown to a hospital in Japan from Vietnam.

As a young teenager, I remember those months we didn't hear from Johnny and we wondered if he was dead or alive. I remember being scared that my brother might be hurt. We didn't even know if he was still in Japan. After waiting for many months, my dad got information when he corresponded with Johnny's superior. I believe that Johnny was ordered to write home. He was still stationed in Japan at the time. As I look back I believe he was homesick, sad and depressed. His marriage of 2 years was failing back home, he didn't want to be there in the Army, he wanted to be home working on his marriage. It was hard on a new marriage to be so far away in a foreign country during war times.

My brother never told me about what must have been the horrors of the wounded he picked up on the bus he drove or how they had suffered in the killing fields. Soldiers don't want to talk about the blood or their buddies who were mangled or never returned. The stories I told here are only a few of what Johnny ever told me about the Army. I'm certain to have my facts a bit confused, but that is how I remember it. I never even saw a picture of Johnny in uniform. I guess there is one somewhere, I just never saw it. There was a lot I would ask Johnny today if he were still alive.

God bless those men and women who enlisted either willingly or not, who served so we can have a free America.