“Marry me,” the
farmer said. He was thirty-three and Sylvia was sixteen. Why not she reasoned,
maybe I’ll be a part of a real family. He was really eager to have a son. He
never used the word “love” but who should love her anyway. She was nothing and would
not ever amount to anything. She was in foster care and was reminded she was
from nothing good. So here was a man that said the magic word “marry” just to
think someone would consider wanting her. Sylvia knew she had better jump at
that offer. Another one may never come along. After all, she knew she was dumb
and ugly, how lucky she felt, she was wanted. December 1960 in her old brown
coat she said the right words that meant obedience. As she voiced the words, a
tiny voice inside her head was sending off a “danger” signal. Sylvia glanced
behind her for an escape but there was none. She went forward, tried to smile
and stepped out into a raging New England blizzard. Sylvia was born on April 6,
1944, in Connecticut. She lied in the marriage license and wrote down she was
born in 1942. Oh well, what difference is a couple of years? But still, the red
flag of warming was up. She tried to brush it aside. He must be a good man, he
didn’t drink or smoke. She was taught those two things were bad. Her husband worked
on a large dairy farm for his father. Months later Sylvia learned her husband
was told to get a strong farm wife and have a son or he would not inherit the
farm. Soon she learned she was expecting a child. She was happy to tell her
husband the good news. “Now he will love me,” she thought. But alas, when she
found the right moment to tell him, he looked at her said, “it had better be a
boy or you are out of here”. Sylvia knew nothing about God, but she started
praying for a son. If she had a girl, she and the child had no place to go. The
months passed and at last, the pains started. Many hours later the much-coveted
son bounced into the world. Now he will love me Sylvia thought. But that word
was never used on her. In two and a half years, Sylvia gave him a total of
three children, a son, a daughter, and another son. Sylvia had home chores to
do that never ended. She lived in a vacant run-down house on the farm. She
hauled her water, chopped wood for the stove and scrubbed down the outhouse to
keep it clean. She swatted mice with a broom and killed rats that tried to
attack her little ones. She lived on a dirt road in the woods with no
neighbors. She was lonely and turned to the small radio for companionship.
Every Saturday as
she patted out dough for bread, she heard someone talking on the radio about
God. Week after week she planned her Saturday’s to listen to her new friend who
knew God. Sylvia didn’t know if there was a God, but this person talked like he
was sure there was. The weeks flew by and one day Sylvia decided to try calling
the number they gave as a contact. She didn’t know how to talk or express
herself, but they were patient and invited themselves to visit the next day.
Sylvia was horrified; she and her little ones were dressed in rags. They
knocked on the door. Sylvia was so scared and nervous she stood there as they
pushed past her to find a seat. She hung her head as they talked about a loving
God. This was a language Sylvia did not know.
Sylvia was invited
to church. She said no, she had no way to get there. The pastor’s wife had the
remedy. “I’ll pick you up Sunday “she beamed. Thus started months of trips to a
place called church. Sylvia was scared and nervous. She sat in the back with
her three little ones and kept her head down. Many months went by and one
Sunday they were singing a song called At Calvary. Sylvia could read. She was
dumb and ugly, but she could read. She studied each word. Somebody died she
decided, and it was for her. More months went by and she decided to read the Bible
at home. The pages flew as she read and took breaks only for her chores. She
was inspired by what she read. I want Jesus in my heart she decided and did so
sitting on the lumpy horse hair couch. Something happened, she wasn’t sure
what, but something was different. Sylvia started to smile and sing the church
songs as she scrubbed the diapers and patched clothes. She hung them on the
line and sang Jesus Loves Me. At last she was loved, and it was from above and
it was REAL! Something else was getting real too. Sylvia’s husband was not
happy about the “new wife” he saw emerging. He shouted at her “you are dumb and
ugly and stupid and you ain’t going to that ____ ____ church no more”. He
struck her, that was a first. He never did that before. She was neglected and
ignored but now to be hit. That reminded her of her childhood. He threatened
her with more if she disobeyed, and he said to her, you can’t have them _____ birth
control pills NO more. Me and Dad think
that they are making you crazy over religion. He attacked her – She ran. With
help she took the children and fled into the night. She was hiding and hoping
he would see the light and get right in his heart with God. The months went by
with court hearings that made no sense. At last Sylvia got full custody of her
children, but her husband had lots of visiting. Sylvia groaned “Oh God help
me”. The visit week came, Sylvia hugged her children and watched them out the
window and waited for them to return. They never came home. She tried to get
help but was told if she knew where they were, she could steal them back. Now
she really was alone. No children, no education, not even a driver’s license.
Life and laws were different in the 1960’s.
Weeks later she was
told she had to do something. A mission was open in Arizona with the Navajo
Indians. Sylvia felt lost and abandoned. She was a wife with no husband, a
mother with no children, a homemaker with no home. She was a nothing. She was a zero and felt like it.
Her life among the
Navajo began and she was lonelier than ever as she saw Indian mothers nurse and
cuddle their babies on the cradleboards. As time went by the mothers handed
their babies to her to hold. The Navajo language was the only language spoken.
At least she could hold babies and smile at the mothers. Then she saw bruises
on the young mothers. She knew what that meant. She started helping the mothers
with their children. Days, weeks, months, and years went by. Sylvia knew from
her own experience how important education is. And to not have it makes a
person a victim of the system. She started a sponsorship program to help the
Indian children enter school and enjoy it. With clean clothes, good shoes, and
classroom supplies, attendance went up. Helping others get their lives together
made her feel alive and useful.
Sylvia believes
faith and education makes a person a whole.
Years later Sylvia did find her children. But they had been led to believe she was
dead. Today Sylvia and her daughter are
growing closer. Her oldest son passed
away from cancer at the age of thirty-nine soon after finding his mother. The youngest son struggles with who he
is. He was very small when he lost his
mother and never got over it. Sylvia
waits and prays. She has learned not
everything can be fixed.
