Woman Untold: A Response to "Woman in Gold"

Woman Untold & Finding My Found

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you.”  Maya Angelou

     If life is a race, then my Mom is the victor. She long-ago sprinted her way across the Finish Line to Heaven. If, however, life is not a race, but rather a boxing match, I'm the one still standing. I remain and know her as the "Woman Untold." The quiet one, with a painful story that she never told me, of being prematurely and forever abandoned by her father. He chose to disappear, to run away, without saying goodbye. To create another life and another family.

     I left Mom, for college and marriage, and barely knew her then. When I was a mere 35 years old, she unexpectedly and prematurely departed this world. She did not seem to possess the die-hard spirit. A spirit which should have developed from that which we sometimes take for granted... the rich memory of a father/daughter relationship. That relationship was instead nil and even negative. I sighed and cried a motherless river of tears.

     In an indirect and unexpected way, "Woman in Gold" shares a similar untold story. When Hitler overtook countries and killed Jewish people, he left daughters orphaned. Their roots were obliterated, with heirlooms pilfered as well as identities. He committed more than murder. Horrendous, generational travesties occurred. Sons were left motherless, and daughters were left fatherless.

     "Woman in Gold" portrays the heart ache of Maria Altmann, who yearns and strives for her rightful treasures. Her true motivation speaks volumes, through soulful stares and teary eyes. It is heritage connection. Happily-ever-after remains on hold. A tension still exists. An injustice that begs righting. Like endearing possessions of close family members. Treasures and intangibles that should have been rightfully inherited long-ago were stolen. And maybe now, wrongfully, strangers proudly display those soulful artifacts for others to admire.

    While others go about their daily business doing whatever they do, an ache remains in the heart. Pieces of the soul were stuffed and snuffed. The pieces I talk about are belonging, and being cherished, and stifled heritage and family stories. Personalities and identity. Anchoring that a mother provides. And Maria feels the understandable tension of guilt. She escaped as Germans occupied Austria. She left her parents, in their most vulnerable hours. But rather than wallowing in guilt, she possesses a die-hard spirit, maybe from strengthening father memories, as well as the help of an advocate. To fight to redeem her story.

Holocaust Trauma Passed on to Children's Genes

     My heart yearns, strives, and feels guilt. My generational umbilical cord was suddenly and abortively cut. Could I have done something to prevent it? I piece together my family conundrum, like James Bond in a Sherlock Holmes mystery. At times the attempts resemble final phase three of a 700-piece, complicated Lego project. After careful and tedious hours spent constructing, it is situated and ready to neatly snap together, to its two other larger phases. To create one huge shape. An intriguing 3-D structure of the fragile Wright Brothers 1903 aircraft.

     The many arms of an octopus are needed during the final, delicate, meta-locking moment. Two arms and two hands are too few. Lego blocks dysfunction-ally shift and fly across the room. I respond hopelessly. In total resignation I add to the mess by intentionally heaving that which remains in my hands. Like fragments of heritage, scattered. At one point in the movie, Maria felt the same frustration and hopelessness.

     "Woman Untold" is now my identity. I am my Mother, and in 3 years my age will reach that which she never attained. I am sad, for the 25+ years we've missed being together, to maybe better understand her fatherless side. Similar to father- and mother- less Maria Altmann, a small portion of my soul was locked up at the time of my Mom's death, years ago, and it yearns for vitality through the golden years. To embrace a resemblance to genuine identity and wholeness. Like my persistent 3-D Lego structure attempts, I will try again. Finding grace in God, which is more precious than gold.

     Every Golden Years spirit can strive to "find my found." To identify his or her own unique, untold story. And if the story is weighty, then work through it to move on to the most critical and positive phase. To tweak it to a redeeming story. Which is something Maria Altmann, with the help of her advocate, fought to do. Sadly, it is something my Mom never did. So I feel the need to press on, prayerfully, for her sake and for mine.

     Life is like a contact sport. It can hurt, and we can break. But the ache of the story need not be permanent. Life tweaking is possible with the help of an advocate. My Advocate-of-Choice is The Messiah.

“But what about you?” he [Jesus] asked. “Who do you say I am?”

Simon Peter answered,
"You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” 

[Peter prophetically identified and confirmed Jesus' ultimate story: To be crucified, AND TO REDEEM.]

(Matthew 16:15-16)

The Jimmy Fallon Fall & Meaning

Meaning. Meaning.

     In late June, popular Talk Show host Jimmy Fallon took a serious dive. He stumbled. He lost his balance. He tripped. More literally, the best explanation to describe his awkward tumble would be: To trip on a braided kitchen rug, lose balance, and stop his fallon towards the floor by grabbing a table.
     To trip on a braided rug, and fallon, in a serious way, means he had a potentially life-threatening injury from his near fallon towards the floor. That he did. When Jimmy took a dive, to prevent a fallon to the floor, he quickly reached. He stopped his dangerous trajectory by grabbing a corner of the table, which caught the wedding band on his finger. Surgeon Phan (is he a phan of Jimmy's?) described the PG-13 injury [graphic grossness] as phollows:
     "So basically the ring is a static object on the finger and it basically rips the whole skin off the finger," he said. "The grade three where the arterial supply, in conjunction with the bone, the tendons and the artery are completely off, those usually end up with pure revision amputation."

     The injury's official term is, "Ring Avulsion." I turned to the Internet, and the unsightly pictures are stomach-turning. Serious stuff from what seemed like a not-so-serious fallon to the table. Fallon's injury could actually have been finger-threatening had he not sought immediate medical attention. He almost permanently lost his wedding ring finger, if not for a skilled and lengthy surgery time. 

     Post-surgery, Fallon recovered in ICU for about 2 weeks. He had lots of thinking time. So, being a creative and inquiring person, he fiddled with designing a safe wedding band (in case of more falls?). He also read a deep and yet frank book, "Man's Search for Meaning" written by concentration camp Survivor Viktor Frankl. Heavy thoughts from the book include:

      “Love is the only way to grasp another human being in the innermost core of his personality. No one can become fully aware of the very essence of another human being unless he loves him. By his love he is enabled to see the essential traits and features in the beloved person; and even more, he sees that which is potential in him, which is not yet actualized but yet ought to be actualized. Furthermore, by his love, the loving person enables the beloved person to actualize these potentialities. By making him aware of what he can be and of what he should become, he makes these potentialities come true.” and,
      “Man does not simply exist but always decides what his existence will be, what he will become the next moment. By the same token, every human being has the freedom to change at any instant.”― Viktor E. Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning

     We are sincerely glad Fallon's hand is healing well. On his July 13th return to the show, he explained his crazy fallon to the table, and his surgery, and his lengthy recovery. He thanked the many skilled professionals and staff who helped him. He then shared that now he identifies with people recovering in the hospital. And, after reading Frankl's book, he has determined his purpose in life: To make people laugh. As patients recline on their hospital beds, he helps them laugh through difficult times. The Late Joan Rivers, during a Mother / Daughter conversation, shared her kindred purpose: To make people laugh. She provided rivers of laughter. 

     The world needs laughter; the world needs life-saving surgeons; the world needs deep-thinking authors like Viktor Frankl; and the world especially needs rivers of Living Water, because life is fleeting. To realize there is a deep, forever, eternal, true meaning and purpose for our names and our lives is utmost. God provided meaning and purpose for His one and only Son... to communicate an entwined message to the swooners and to those who need Him most. To demonstrate God's immense, strategically-pursuing, unfailing love for us, perfectly balanced with that which we gallantly ignore. In our affluent, self-sufficient society, we lack the daily and hourly sense of our dire straits without the Savior. Jesus.

We.Are.Fallon.Fallen.

...for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus (Romans 3:23-24).

[paraphrased]
(Practicing The Presence of God, Brother Lawrence)

Trust and Faith are Circular

Compadres

Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called

when you made your good confession in the presence of many witnesses.

(I Timothy 6:12)

          Faith and trusting God are active and circular (like a spinning hamster wheel). We trust God, and God trusts us enough to allow struggles, for our benefit and our good. Yesterday I fasted, yet again, for direction, clear meaning, and other existential ideals. To re-create purpose. Lately I do that sort of thing, embracing quotes like, "When I waked, I cried to dream again (Shakespeare, The Tempest, quoted in The King's Speech). The day was filled with distractions, errands and non-essentials. Anything to keep my mind off of food and eating.
           "When I waked" today, I again felt little closeness to God and no specific direction. I exercised inside on the treadmill, because of unusual summer-downpour rains, rains, and more rains. Walking the treadmill is like spinning in a hamster wheel that leads to nowhere. It is as exciting as yesterday's discipline. I hate it. So I either watch TV or listen to music. I NEEDED to be encouraged, so today I opted for energetic music. An epiphanous thought struck me as I listened to Kirk Franklin's CD (songs to which I had not listened, for years).

A clear line of thinking came, like an "aha moment," a revelation from out of the blue, similar to the way Author Virkler says God speaks. It was a spontaneous impression rather than meditated. I already thought that the past 5 years have felt like tests. Actually, more like a comprehensive final exam, covering everything I've ever learned in my 159-7/8 years of life:  IF love wanes through what I perceive as repeated "failures," this test reveals selfish and ugly things--that the main reason I love is because of things done for me or given to me...

           ...and then, the stinging curve ball: Which.Reveals.My.God-Relationship.
What?  I am prone to follow God only because of what He does for me. In other words, to use God rather than love Him. Grow up. Ouch! The dreaded "gimme, gimme syndrome."
           Approaching a notable birthday, as well as 39 relatively steady years of marriage, this lengthy test uncovers... my vulnerable-side. How do I react to repeated dead-ends? How much do I really trust my husband... and God? During an unending season of ego-smashes and challenges to our identity, I can't help but think in the education mindset and hope for an A on the comprehensive exam.
           My fictional Prince Charming is intelligent, kind, strong, and courageous. My husband is all that and more. We are a team. Like George and Barbara. Jimmy and Rosalynn. Ronnie and Nancy. Appreciation-roots actually seem to be deepening. I love my husband in sickness, and in health, and now through... career strangulation, with pinnacles being re-adjusted as well as the eventual follow-through. Through lightning strikes, floods, and chemo fire with under-pixilated brain fog. There is a collapse of ideal dreams. Our imagined Lego structure might be only 12 bricks high instead of prime 13. And then the self-searching question: Did I prolong this never-ending season?
           Faith and trusting God. Active and circular. We trust God, and God trusts us enough to allow a decade of back-to-back and bamming ego-busters, for refining; for our benefit and our good. Resist natural responses like Wealthy Job's proud, despairing, (possibly realist) nameless wife "Mrs. Job" [after experiencing unimaginable, rapid-fire personal losses in one day... and then, to top that, on "another day" came Job's loss of dignity; losses that we would never wish on our worst enemy] who wailed to destitute Husband Job, "Are you still holding on to your integrity? Curse God and die!" (Job 2:9).
            I sense Mrs. Jobs' tears, dramatically-flailing arms, and maybe even a touch of hopeless cynicism. She was vulnerable. Like newly-planted, tender grass shoots or seedlings. They are bright green and glaringly easy to spot. It seems appropriate that since the Bible mentions her in a negative light, her name was withheld. Her soul was deflated. She had an understandable weak moment and needed shielding.

Thank you, Father. Despite my wavering ways, You personally call my name. And You do intimately communicate. God carefully cradles an awkward set of size 10 extremities, but what does He see? A little set of feet. A beautiful asset which is precious; and, kindred to this transparent blog post, vulnerable.
           And, too, my husband and I represent that same set of feet; compadres; a pair. We are one. We fight the good fight of faith separately, yet together. And, today, I am humbled. Despite feeling disillusioned, our relationship is precisely where it needs to be: In God's loving and settled hands.

           Happy soon-to-be 39th, Sunshine, and many more.