My Princess House Journey, Part 4...Difficult Days

"Today," said the minister as he stood at the pulpit in the old fashioned church, "I'm going to tell you all about the benefits of being sons and daughters of our Father God."

I sat in the pew and stared incredulously, pop-eyed at the minister. How could it be that in such a short time, I would hear two sermons on the same subject? Was that a mere coincidence, or was it a sign? Would this sermon be as powerful as the one where I re-dedicated my life to God while I drove?

The last several of months had been hard, and my mind thought back to how I had ended up here in this little country family-like church.

Our marriage was spiraling downward quickly. One Sunday, I had scanned the many rows of benches full of men and women at the large church EJ and I had previously attended, and I wondered how much help I would actually get if I told them the truth of what was really happening in our lives. I wondered if they truly cared, or if we would only feel more judged. Did they really want to help us, or would they just gossip about our problems? I didn't trust them enough to want to find out.

That Sunday on the way home from church, I made a last-ditch effort to get help. "EJ," I said gently, "I think we need to find another church. One where people really care about our hearts."

"Well," he looked at me, "there's a little country church that one of the guys from work invited me to. We could try that one."

So, the very next Sunday, here we were, strangers in a little country church with a bell on the roof. As they rang the bell for 9:00 Worship Service, my heart relaxed. Then, the preacher got up and preached a powerful sermon about Being A Child of God. How I yearned with all of my being to be a child of God, and I drank in the pure Bible Truths. It ministered life to my aching heart, and I felt like a child at home.

We never went back to the old church. We pulled our membership and walked away, amid cries of disapproval. But in my heart, I knew I was where I was supposed to be.

But EJ didn't feel that way. I was 8 months pregnant with my second baby when he stopped attending church,

Things got worse. And Worse.

My second baby arrived, and much to my delight, I was given a dark-eyed baby boy, Trent DeJon.

But I was still in the hospital when I suspected that I wasn't the only woman in EJ's life. Shortly after the baby came, that suspicion was realized.

EJ gave me a choice. I could leave the Mennonites for him, or he would leave me.

I'm going to draw a privacy curtain over the horror of the next 8 months. Suffice it to say that it was awful...

No money.

Thousands of dollars of debt.

Sometimes, I didn't know where the next bottle of formula was going to come from to feed Baby Trent.

My Telephone service got shut off.

Got kicked out of our house...nearly ended up homeless.

Accusations from well-meaning people whose lives were well-ordered...if I would have been more submissive, more conservative, more organized, more faithful as a youth, more this, and more that, then this wouldn't have happened to me.

My children probably weren't going to "make it," they said, over and over. I began to think that one was their favorite critique. Many, many times, I fell to my knees in prayer, weeping violently after a well-meaning person told me once again that my children weren't going to make it.

I tried to apply for a few jobs. Nothing opened up.

I wasn't healing from the birth...it had been a C-section. When Trent was 3 months old, I would stand in the shower and floor would be red with blood at the end of the shower.

I was so depressed. I nearly went under.

Thoughts of suicide went through my mind.

EJ came and went.

I floundered.

I cried.

I felt the presence of evil trying to take me down.

I prayed. Over and over and over.

I decided not to change what I knew. I somehow knew that it takes a village to raise children, and I didn't know where else to find it, except in the little church family I had only recently grown to appreciate. They were so kind and so loving. I felt like I could trust them.

So I told EJ that I wouldn't give up being a Mennonite.

"Ok," he said, "that's my answer. I'm free to do what ever I want, and it doesn't include you."

Throughout all of the turmoil, I managed to do a couple of Princess House parties here and there. I was thankful for the scant income. But it wasn't nearly enough.

My Leader, Charity Lapp, kept on checking up on me. "Glenda," she'd say, "I want you to think about doing Princess House as a career. There are lots of single moms out there who do Princess House for a living. You could, too."

"But NOT Mennonite single moms," I said, bitterly. "I can't even get Mennonites to buy!"

"Yes, but Mennonites like to eat, don't they?" she'd say.

"Yes."

"They like good cookware, don't they?"

"Yes."

"Well then, why on earth wouldn't they buy that cookware from Princess House?"she asked. "I know they buy from "The Kettle Man" and PH cookware is just as good if not better than his cookware."

Over and over, she said this to me. I listened and argued. But she didn't give up.

By and by, I began to wonder if she might be telling maybe...some truth? Maybe she could be right.

Charity took me to Taunton, MA, to a Princess House Convention. She told me that I wouldn't have to pay for the hotel room...and I slept on the cot. I went to the convention, and I took notes as every speaker spoke. I watched to see who was honored for being the most successful, and Charity could never find me... I was always seeking the successful consultants out, asking questions about how they became successful. I wrote everything they said in my notebook. That evening, I sat on my cot, and Charity helped me to figure out a plan. How many parties a month would I need to do to pay my bills and a little bit on my debt?

Charity thought that I should purchase a $500 cookware set (the most expensive item in the catalog) to show at my parties. When I came home and told my mentors that, one of them sat down and wrote me a check immediately so that I could buy the cookware set.

My finances continued to be terrible: however, I had seen God do miracles to provide for me. Many times, I would only think about a need that I had, only to turn around several days later to have God provide for me in the strangest ways. I was becoming more and more convinced that He was real, and that He cared about me. I even began to truly feel that He loved me...even me, whose life was a wreck.

One day, when I felt especially destitute and unloved, I felt desperate. Surely, I wouldn't have to live all of my life in such a state. I prayed. "Dear God," I bargained, "if you will provide for my children and I with this Princess House Business, I will talk about Your Goodness & Love at every single party I go to." I meant it, too!

But I had Zero parties on my calendar.

I didn't know what to do next.

*This story is only my perspective.

I'm not casting stones or judgement.

I'm not looking for pity or advice.

I'm not advising anyone to do what I did, or not do what I did!!!

I just want to show forth the Praises of Him Who Called me out of so much darkness, into His Marvelous Light.

I hope the continued story stands for itself, and is nothing but that--my story!

Love, Glenda