The God of All Comfort

By Linda Kennedy

The Bible says in 2 Corinthians 1:34 that God is the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort. Is that really true? If God really does love me, why did He allow me to go through such horrible times of distress and pain? Why couldnt I have a normal life just like everyone else? After all, I wasnt really that bad of a person, was I? Hadnt I worked hard to turn my life around? Here my husband and I were now attending a good, Bible-teaching church, and I was learning more about Jesus and His love for me every day. We were finally ready to start a family after being married for ten yearsI felt in my heart that I was now ready to become a mom. But then everything started to fall apart.

This book is to let you know that no matter what you are facing, God, our Heavenly Father, is always right beside us, and when we keep our eyes on Him and trust Him, He will see to it that we are brought to a place where life can make sense. Was this story something that I dreamed about as a little girl? Far from it! Yet I can honestly say that I am more at peace today than I have ever been in my life. The God of all comfort is always right here, just waiting for me to draw near to Him, and He is waiting for you as well.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Apr 17, 2015
• ISBN: 9781490876511

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Copyright © 2015 Linda Kennedy.

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Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc. All rights reserved worldwide. Used by permission. NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION® and NIV® are registered trademarks of Biblica, Inc. Use of either trademark for the offering of goods or services requires the prior written consent of Biblica US, Inc.

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ISBN: 978-1-4908-7650-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-7652-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-7651-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015905821

WestBow Press rev. date: 04/17/2015

Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1 The Beginning

Chapter 2 Trouble Follows

Chapter 3 Attempting to Get My Act Together

Chapter 4 A New Start, but Would It Be Better?

Chapter 5 Starting Over Again

Chapter 6 Our First Years Together

Chapter 7 Just Who Is This Guy I’m Married To?

Chapter 8 Me, a Mom?

Chapter 9 Babies, Phase II

Chapter 10 Our Whirlwind Days

Chapter 11 The Purity of a Child’s Heart

Chapter 12 Moving Forward, One Step at a Time

Chapter 13 Continuing On …

Chapter 14 Jeffrey Starts School

Chapter 15 Growing by Leaps and Bounds

Chapter 16 Sharing Our Grief

Chapter 17 The Trials of Being a Daughter

Chapter 18 Back to the Working Grind

Chapter 19 Becoming Small-Towners

Chapter 20 Back to the Grind, Part II

Chapter 21 Growing in My Faith

Chapter 22 Jeffrey Going Off on His Own?

Chapter 23 This Old Bod Just Ain’t What It Used to Be

Chapter 24 Okay, Here We Go!

Chapter 25 Getting Jeffrey Settled

Chapter 26 Off on Our Own

Chapter 27 Freedom Is Never Free

Chapter 28 Don’t Get Too Comfortable!

Notes

Introduction

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. (2 Corinthians 1:3–4)

T hese verses never really meant anything to me until I witnessed firsthand the compassion of a sweet brother and sister in the Lord who brought this passage to life. Their daughter, when only in her twenties, had been brutally murdered. My husband and I had just lost two of our young sons in a five-month period, and our pain was so intense. I could not even imagine losing an adult child on account of something so traumatic.

Even though years had gone by, how had this couple coped? How were my husband and I going to cope? Our young remaining child was not yet a year old and was struggling with health issues related to being a premature twin. Didn’t the Lord know that he needed siblings to help him maintain some sort of normalcy in his life? Did God really love us? If so, why had He allowed these things to happen? Did we have sin in our lives that we had failed to deal with? Or, perhaps, was this happening because of all the horrible things I had done in my life? Was my past now coming back to haunt me, causing this horrible pain for me and my husband—when he did not deserve it at all?

Thank You, Father, for sending us this dear couple—Jesus with skin on—to give us hope, comfort, and love. Thank You for sending them to share with us their hurts and questions, and most of all for the answers and peace they received.

That is the reason for this book. This book is to offer those reading it comfort, hope, and peace in whatever circumstance you may be facing. God our heavenly Father is always right there with us in our struggles, and He will lift us up and place us back on our feet as we reach out to Him.

This is my story. It is a story of hope. No matter what you have done in your life, no matter how many wrongs you may have committed or how selfish you have been, there is a personal, active God actively pursuing you and inviting you into His life as you reach out to Him and learn to rest in His love and care.

I made a lot of mistakes before I came to believe in Jesus Christ—things that I am deeply ashamed of. If only I could go back now and do things differently! Yet, as I’ve walked with Jesus, He has brought people into my life who have directed me and guided me, and who have helped me get my life turned around, people and precious friends for whom I will always be grateful.

Please know that I am in no way condoning any of my behavior before becoming a Christian. It truly sickens me to think of the things I’ve done. Also, it grieves me greatly that I had an abortion. At the time, I really didn’t think of it as murdering a precious baby …

My greatest joy that came from all of this? His name is Jesus.

CHAPTER 1

The Beginning

R olling back in time, I remember the little home in which my sister, Sonja, and I lived with our parents in Newton, Iowa, years ago. Grandma lived in a little cottage right by us. It was always fun to go over to her house, because she would offer us ice-cold milk right out of the freezer! I thought that was awesome. How did she think of that? Even though my family only lived there until I was five years old, those years, for the most part, seemed to be very happy.

The bad part I remember is that we had to be very careful of snakes! Mother was terrified of snakes. Unfortunately for Sonja and me, she passed that heritage along to us. I remember one time trotting down to our sandbox to play. All of a sudden, I came very close to stepping on a long, black stick. However, it wasn’t a stick at all, but a giant snake! I screamed, running back inside to tell Mom. She then freaked and called Dad home from work to try to find it so he could kill it.

Shortly after that, we ended up moving to the Seattle area. My mother’s dream was to live close to the water. Quite frankly, the Seattle area (when the sun comes out!) is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. There are nearby lakes and rivers and, of course, Puget Sound.

The problem with our move was that Dad did not have a job, and we had very little money. For the first months of our new adventure, we lived in a tent at a state park campground while Dad went out looking for work. After some time he finally found a great job and we were able to move into a little rental house. What great memories I have of those years! Sonja and I had wonderful neighbors and great friends our age to play with. Plus, there were no snakes—at least not that I saw. Life was good.

About a year after moving into that rental house, we purchased a piece of property about twenty miles away with a great view of a lake. Mother was thrilled; I was not. I had to leave my good friends in Seattle and move to Yuppie Ville. My happy little world was beginning to unravel.

My elementary school was okay, but I just could not seem to make friends. Mother always wanted me to come right home after school, so I was not able to get involved in sports or other activities. I always felt like an outcast.

Valentine’s Day was very upsetting to me. I never got many cards and the ones I did receive from my classmates were basic. Why didn’t anyone like me? Probably because I always looked very plain with my oh-so-short bangs, and I dressed like a nerd! Plain Jane, that’s what I thought. Plus, Mom always made my sister and I wear weird clothes. How embarrassing!

Then there was church. Mother was raised a Lutheran. She said her dad was an ordained minister, as was one of her brothers. In her opinion, Lutheranism was the only religion one should be involved in. We sometimes attended a beautiful new Lutheran church not too far from where we lived. Mother loved the beautiful church building but said that the people were such hypocrites. We reached the point where we attended church only on Easter and Christmas. However, it was very important to Mother that Sonja and I go through the confirmation process, because that would ensure that we were okay with God.

I hated it. Quite frankly, I don’t remember learning all that much from the whole course, and I certainly did not make any friends. As a matter of fact, one boy from my elementary school attended that same church class so I was always very embarrassed when my dad came and picked me up in our old Edsel. Why couldn’t we have a newer, stylish car, like everyone else? The boy often made it a point to make fun of not only our car but also everything else about me and my family. Regardless, once I received my certificate, Mother was very proud! I was just glad it was over. At least it meant that I was right with God and would go to heaven someday.

Junior high school was terrible. Most of the girls in my class were horrendous and often called me names. I was very unhappy. I had a lot of those old-style, long, kiltlike skirts that Mother liked for me to wear, but I quickly learned to get around wearing them.

On the way to the school-bus stop, I had to walk up the street a few blocks. I found a shortcut going through the woods and quickly began to put one of my brilliant ideas into motion. Before leaving the house in the morning, I put on an old pair of rolled-up jeans under my wide, loose-fitting skirt. On the way to the bus stop going through the woods, down came the jeans and away went the skirt! At least I felt a little bit more normal. Eventually I made a few Mother-approved friends, and I was able to go over to their houses occasionally to visit.

Then my home life began to get quite rocky. Dad lost his good job during a large layoff, and suddenly money was very tight again, causing a lot of fighting at home. I had always had a close relationship with my dad, and it seemed to me that Mother would get very jealous of that at times. It seemed like every day the friction would increase. I hated being home. I felt that I could never do anything right. It didn’t seem to matter whether I washed the dishes, trimmed the lawn, or scrubbed the shower; it was never done right, so I had to do it all over again.

It got to the point that even when I wanted to go over to my friends’ homes—forget it! To make matters worse, when I was able to go out, Mother always wanted me to drag my little sister, Sonja, with me. How humiliating that was! Even though Sonja and I are very close now, back then, being four and a half years apart seemed like an eternity. We had nothing in common. To make matters worse, she was a tattletale and I knew that Mother sent her with me just so she could find out all the bad stuff I did. However, I soon figured out a way around that, as well: I would bribe Sonja with candy, and then she wouldn’t tell on me.

Eventually Dad was able to find a job as a security guard, but he had to carry a gun on the job which made Mother very nervous. The in-house fighting intensified. Why couldn’t he find a better job? I began to notice that my dad became quieter every day. It seemed as though all he wanted to do was sit in his rocking chair and watch TV. He rarely spoke to us; I think he was probably afraid that he would upset Mother again.

He also had bought an old typewriter, and frequently I would hear him typing away on it. Then one day, something strange happened. I was getting ready to head out to school, and Dad came into my room.

Something great has happened, he said, and this is what I want you to do. When you and your sister start heading up the street to your school-bus stop, I want you to take your sister and sneak back around through the woods. Find a good lookout point across the street where you can see the house but where your mother won’t be able to see you. She doesn’t believe this, but a Hollywood producer is on his way here, and he is going to produce the screenplay I’ve been writing! She would be steaming mad if she knew that I told you this. I want you to hide across the street. When he comes, I’ll flag you down through the bedroom window—and then you and your sister will be able to come and meet him!

Wow, could anything be more exciting? I quickly went through with the plan, hiding with Sonja across the street, out of sight of the house.

The time dragged on. How long had we been out there? It seemed like hours. Having gotten bored, we started playing hide-and-seek in the trees to pass the time. All of a sudden, oh no—Mother had spotted us through the window, and she was furious! She called to us and told us to get into the house immediately.

We came home. As we entered, there was Dad, sitting and rocking in his chair.

Dad? I asked. When is the producer going to be here?

Mother came unglued. There’s no producer! Your dad is crazy! I’m going to take you two girls out of here right now!

However, being belligerent to the end, there was simply no way that I was going to leave my dad—and my mom had no right to tell me to!

I’m staying, I said. And there’s no way you can make me come with you!

Mother finally left with my sister and I sat down near my dad.

Dad, when is the producer coming?

No answer. I looked at him but he had kind of a vacant look on his face.

Dad, what’s going on?

Finally, he glanced over at me. He looked weird; his eyes were kind of glassy-looking.

Do you believe in God and the Devil? he asked.

What?

Do you believe in God and the Devil? he repeated.

Dad, what’s going on?

He got out of his chair and it looked like he was starting to come after me. I still get goose bumps now when I think of it. I got scared and started backing away. He began to follow me, repeating the same question. It had started to rain outside at that point, and I was in a skirt and knee socks. Nevertheless, I ran into the living room, opened the sliding glass door, and quickly ran outside as fast as I could, running down the wet street in the rain. I looked back to the house at one point and saw that Dad was standing there with his head poking outside the glass door, just watching me.

What was I going to do? What had happened to Dad? Where was I going to go? It wasn’t as if