My Great Uncle Elden

Now I know almost every family has scandals and secrets, That no human being is perfect. But I grew up in family who preached about perfection, while still being saved from hell through the grace of God. My parents had a variety of religious views that not one type of church could possibly capture fully. So now in my life, I will not blame any one type of religion over another, I personally choose to not support any organization of religion all together, for the simple fact I learned from my parents while I was growing up, there is something right, and something wrong, in all the teachings of the bible, in any group, in all the structures of religion. I am not saying "Don't have faith" I am saying "Beware of who you follow." It's only a personal choice to seek God and all the wonders out there, no one can tell you to do so unless you yourself want to. I truly believe that no one has the actual facts to prove you wrong, either way. Faith and love are the heart and soul of a human being. If you take those emotions away then hope is lost and the imagination becomes legalistic. I often wonder why was I raised in such a place of  both good and bad, of scary and calm. My home life went into cycles of happiness then tears. Like a roller coaster I came out from it  all very dizzy and bewildered! But if I hadn't lived in that religious chaos then I would have never asked the deepest questions about the human soul. I would not be as calm and stable as I am today, For not having the all the answers (like I did when I lived in an organized faith system) makes me smile even bigger and my imagination awakes to the hope that things are better then we ever once believed! My Hope is alive and good! My faith is in the power I see with my own 2 hands and my soul seeks the earthly sky with the cotton clouds and beams of light. For by NOT knowing in what the spiritual world holds......I am more at peace, more free then I ever thought I could be!

My Grandpa Ansil had a brother named Elden, I was just a small child when I saw his face for the very first time and I screamed. Grandpa yelled at his brother to get back inside the homestead shack as I cried running away from the scary hairy face of a man I never met. He was watching me play in the soft dirt by his screen door as my parents picked peaches up in the orchard so as I sat in the middle of the fruit stand that Grandma Norma ran out of  her parked camper, my Grandpa came in quickly to tell his brother to get back. Now the fruit stand was clean and organized smelling of freshly picked fruit and soft dust. I really loved that fruit stand still so dear in my mind, though shortly after I began to get older the stand was shut down. When I was a teenager we sold baskets of peaches in our front yard a completely different looking place by then. But in those early years I loved that fruit stand with my young Aunts around to put me on their lap or all squeal if a snake came out of the weedy tall grass. That moment when I saw the face of my great Uncle Elden stays with me all this time, for I wondered who he was, and why was he not allowed to come out of his home?

I was 10 years old walking by what looked like a condemned shack, It was the first home on the farm over the years it decayed into a ghostly frame hidden by the deep weeds and over grown trees. The windows were almost thick with dirt and mud, I know what this place looked like for I had stared in awe at it for hours. "Who would live there?" I asked myself as the rambling loud noise of my great uncle came through the cracks of the doors and faint old screens. I got scared one hot afternoon of my 10th summer as Elden shouted out at something but not making any sense. "MOM!" I ran up to her in the big wide open garden, She wasn't paying much attention to me, "Yeah?" she replied still bent over her favorite place to be. "Mom what is that shouting! Is something wrong inside?" I pointed to the old bent house below. Mom stopped to listen and think about how to tell me. "Well you know an old man lives there, That is Grandpa's brother Elden. He isn't well and is just talking to himself I think." I waited feeling fear slow down in me as I watched Mom look around as if anyone could be over hearing her. "He has Evil spirits, Debby. So don't go near him." I suddenly shot up with fear again as I scooted closer to my mom whispering back at her while starring in horror now back at the old home. "What!? he has what!?" Mom sighed and explained that what she is about to tell me I can't talk about. I listened in shock, in horror and in doubt as she explained "Uncle Elden was a normal person just like you and me then one day he got into reading bad books, books about Satan and was taken ill from it. He has never been the same since. So we think he has evil demons inside him making him like this." I was in awe by this short confusing story, but I prayed wildly ever time I saw him wondering if I am was weak in my faith and in my ability to withhold a demon attack on my own soul.  Looking back now I would have asked bigger questions then that. In every family there is a scandal, something people are trying to hide from it's shame. My great uncle never once joined in a family picnic, or Christmas eve get together. Even when a big family reunion took place with all of his siblings, he was not there. How dark his life must have been to be an outcast, yet cared for in secret. His story is still a huge mystery to me for I do not believe that at any one moment or of any heart beat of his was control by evil spirits. When they tore down that old building where Uncle Elden lived my father happily moved him to our blue cottage where it was clean, new and warm. Dad was always very kind talking nicely to Uncle Elden and seeming to understand the man better then anyone else. Elden was so happy to retire to a better home and lived the last five years of his life there. My dad asked him, once he was all setup in the cottage, "Do you want me to build a fence to keep the kids out of your yard?" I watched through the open door as Elden waved his hand "No no no no no no I'd like those kids." I smiled for he always spoke like he had a mouth full of cotton. And the fact that he liked us kids made me happy, made me feeling safe enough to wave at him through the window, when he always waved back I felt sad for him instantly.

Mom had decide to read through the bible for school that year and like many other attempts we never ever made it all the way through. I sat against my will on the couch with my bible open, with some boring lines of a genealogy being read out loud among the 3 of us kids. You know the lists of so and so Begot so and so, Since begot was the only word for my sexual education.... then lordy no wonder I was late in arriving with better knowledge! 

I remember being alarm by the speed in which Grandpa was driving as I was daydreaming out the window. I was at the trapped age of 15. When Mom told us kids to stay inside she ran out to help her dad with her dead mentally challenged uncle. I prayed and prayed from my place against the back door window, "Please God let him in! Let him into heaven! Don't let these evil spirits separate him from eternal life!" Watching a body come out moving along in a black bag is both shocking and sad. I wanted to remember always my great uncle the man who lived in hiding, who wasn't even talked about much. His story is unfinished, unresolved and even more confusing to me the older I get. I liked how he called from his door to my father, how they talked and smiled. How my dad liked helping him and treated him with the respect he deserved. I wish I could have known him more, maybe even talk the family into including him in our lives and in our homes. A doctor could of help us understand him better and help better the quality of his life. Maybe when he comes to me in my memory, in my dreams he is teaching me something, something about love. For shame and fear will keep us locked up, wrapped up in our own lives that we forgot to open the door and invite a new person in. 

I stood away from everyone at his grave sight among the funeral service asking myself  "Did I fail him? Why didn't I advocate on his behalf to re-join the family? So that he could be known and accepted? Most importantly to know he was loved?" I remember that sunny, windy afternoon as he was laid to rest, for the place was full of people who never had him over for dinner, never invited him to sit around the Christmas tree. I walked away thinking shamefully that I was wrong to have done nothing. "How Ironic Debby, for you call yourself a Christian." was all I thought.

In honor of my Great Uncle Elden I will never stand by and do nothing ever again.