There is a lady in my church named Joyce Jelinek. She is a very gracious, nice and genteel lady. She is by herself; her children grown and out on their own. She moved here a few years ago from Florida. She is a very interesting lady. She celebrated her 80th. birthday in the summer. You would never guess her age to be 80; she has beautiful unlined skin, a bright smile and her spirit is very young. Her body is beginning to betray her. She had an injury to one of her knees many years ago and now her “good” knee is causing some severe pain; she has a lot of back pain. But, she never complains. She hasn’t been able to attend church the last couple of Sundays since it is so terribly painful for her to get up and down and in and out of vehicles.
She called me yesterday and asked me to have dinner with her last night. Of course, I accepted. Anytime someone is willing to cook for me, I am most gracious in my acceptance. I arrived about 6 o’clock and we had a great dinner and fellowship. The dinner was especially appreciated after I saw how hard it was for her to get around and to know that she went to all that trouble for me really humbled me.
Earlier in the post, I said she is a very interesting lady. She has a great story to tell. After listening to her last night, I told her she should get these thoughts either down on paper or on a tape recorder so her family would be able to know her history. Hopefully, she will do that.
She was born in Wales; her father worked on the docks and her mother worked at home. I can’t remember how many sisters and brothers she had; but at the time the story she told took place, she and her brother were the only children at home. Her father was too old and her brother too young to fight in the war – World War II. Her family lived a little town. She got such a wistful look when she talked about her homeland. She said she missed it a lot and that nights when it’s raining she will often lie in her bed and smell the earth of her home. She told me several stories of things that happened during the war; some of them funny but most of them sad. She lived through some terrible times; yet, she remembers how she and others in her town would walk through the streets singing. She said she guessed people thought they were crazy. But, I could see this as a defense mechanism; anything to help you get through the horrible time. She told me about people at the prison camps; people’s homes being bombed and burned; people being killed. Things I can only see in movies or read about in books. She talked about the sound the bombs made as they were falling and how the movie producers can get the “whistle” sound as they fall right. But, they don’t have the sound of the explosion when they strike anywhere near right. You can’t imagine the sound or the force of the impact. Her brother once had his jacket blown right off his body and he found it several days later down the street on a bean pole in a neighbor’s garden. They were given 2 ounces of margarine a week per person. She told lots of stories like this.
She also told stories of happy things. She was very close to her Daddy; she was the baby of the family. He would pick her up, perch her on his shoulders and carry off to the fields to pick mushrooms and other things. He would pick this flower that had some kind of burr on it and make a wreath of these and place it on her head like a crown. She really loved it…..until she got home and had to get it out of her hair. As she told this story, she had the sweetest look on her face.
I wish I could remember all she told me; but I can’t and I couldn’t do justice to the stories. But, she did tell me one more that I want to share with you. It brought chills to me when she told me and it just about broke my heart for her. She remembers hearing her Daddy talk with the other men in the town about having to defend themselves against the Germans if they came there. There were no young men in the town; they were all off at war. The men only had pitchforks to defend themselves. She heard her Daddy tell the other men that if the Germans did come, he would kill his daughter himself before he would let the Germans have her. She stopped in her story to say “you have to remember that I was blond and blue-eyed, just what the soldiers wanted”. She continued her story by saying, she knew her Daddy was talking about her and she was thinking about he would kill her and she hoped he wouldn’t choke her. I was sitting there horrified. How could she sit there and tell me this so calmly? Of course, I knew she must have been terrified. But, she also knew that if he had to do it, it would be because he loved her and wanted to spare her the horrible things they knew the Germans would do. Can you imagine how she must have felt? I honestly can’t.
We ended our evening at 10:15. It is one of the best evenings I can ever remember having; spent with a great lady with awesome stories to tell.
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