Breaking Through the Iron Curtain

By Jana L Jenkins

THE IRON CURTAIN WAS THE POLITICAL,
MILITARY, AND IDEOLOGICAL BARRIER ERECTED
BY THE SOVIET UNION AFTER WWII sealing itself
and its dependent eastern and central European allies off
from open contact with the West and other non-communist
areas. It was under these conditions that Jana Jenkins took
her children

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trilogy Christian Publishing
• Release date: Aug 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781640883420

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Breaking Through the Iron Curtain

Jana L. Jenkins

Trilogy Christian Publishers

Tustin, CA

Trilogy Christian Publishers

A Wholly Owned Subsidiary of Trinity Broadcasting Network

2442 Michelle Drive

Tustin, CA 92780

Copyright © 2019 by Jana L. Jenkins

All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise noted, taken from THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Scripture quotations marked (KJV) taken from The Holy Bible, King James Version. Cambridge Edition: 1769.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

For information, address Trilogy Christian Publishing

Rights Department, 2442 Michelle Drive, Tustin, Ca 92780.

Trilogy Christian Publishing/ TBN and colophon are trademarks of Trinity Broadcasting Network.

For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Trilogy Christian Publishing.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Trilogy Disclaimer: The views and content expressed in this book are those of the author and may not necessarily reflect the views and doctrine of Trilogy Christian Publishing or the Trinity Broadcasting Network.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN 978-1-64088-279-9

ISBN 978-1-64088-280-5 (ebook)

Contents

Acknowledgments ix

Introduction xi

The Prague Spring 1

Invasion 13

Breaking Through the Iron Curtain 99

Germany 105

Crossing the Atlantic Ocean 155

America 157

Encounter with God 213

Transition 215

Summary 233

Legacy 237

Introduction to My Legacy 237

Pride, Self, and Humility 243

Why Christianity? 251

Good News 254

Choices 254

We Can't Earn, Rob, or Buy from God What He Wants to Give Us 257

Identity 261

Matryoshka: The Russian Doll 266

Relationships 267

Dating and Marriage 271

Faith, Fear, and Swimming 272

Free Will, Sin, and Disobedience 276

Punishment versus Consequences 283

Temptations and Satan 286

Self-Pity 290

Low Self-Image (Self-Esteem)/Bullying 291

Freedom 292

Symbols versus Tangibility, Physicality 294

Law vs. Legalism and Legal vs. Right 296

The Letter of the Law versus the Spirit of the Law 298

Choices, Change, Pain, and Growth 300

Tests, Measurements, and Accomplishments 303

Love 305

Ownership 307

Judging Others 309

Expectations and Perfection 310

Consciousness, Condemnation, Punishment, Salvation and Pride 313

The Seagull and Salvation 315

Self-Deception 316

Restoration and God's Promise 319

Seed, New Birth, and Pain 320

Hope, Faith, and Love 322

Acceptance and Value 323

Wholeness, Body, Soul, and Spirit 326

Fear of Man, Insecurity, and People Pleasers (Stress) 329

Can We Outgrow our Fears? Is Fear Contagious or Learned or Are We Born With It? 330

A Story 333

Money, Value, and Bartering 334

How is God Going to Communicate on Our Level? 336

Christ, The Water of Life 338

Divine Appointment 339

Man and Dog 340

Puzzles 341

Flying by Instruments 343

The Impression or the Impact 343

Questionnaire 345

This is dedicated to all my children and grandchildren.

Acknowledgments

I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude to all who helped me to bring my story together. God knew how much help I would need and He brought all those people in my path just in the right time. There were numerous people, too many to list, who encouraged me along the way, when I was afraid of the enormity of the project I was undertaking.

It is impossible to put an exact value on their individual impact and importance at different times of my writing, so I will list them in the alphabetical order. For that reason, I am omitting their titles as well.

I would like to say thank you to: my family (Paul, Marie, Thomas), Kim Hosman, Burris Jenkins, Michael and Michelle Jenkins, Jenny Lipa, my friends, Vera Bisek, Mila Brotan, Bob Campbell, Sterling Edwards, Linda Hirsch, Luis Rivera, Karel and Hana Sellner, Nan Singer, Heather Ruth Sneed, Milada Stastny, Scott Teague, Laura Tiedman, Vera Truhlar, my publisher Nick Anderson, Mark Mingle, Misty Norris and all others who are involved in giving my story its final form.

Paul

Marie

Thomas

Introduction

I truly believe that everyone's life is a story, an essential puzzle piece equally important in God's design. People have told me that my story inspires faith in others. It was never my ambition to get it published. I even didn't want to write it until my kids made me. Originally, it was written for my grandchildren as a part of our family history, and then God let me know that it potentially has a broader application.

The story has two parts. The first describes my escape from communist Czechoslovakia after the invasion of the combined armies of the Warsaw Pact nations in August 1968. At that time, I was not aware of God’s involvement in my life. Prior to the invasion, it had never occurred to me to leave my homeland. For all practical purposes, God had been outlawed in my country since the time of my birth. In 1968, we had three small children and I didn't want them to grow up under the political oppression I had experienced.

The story begins with the birth of my third child, followed by the invasion; followed by two years of decision making; weighing the positive and negative consequences of the available options and planning an escape—all in the middle of an ordinary life. All of it had to be done in the utmost secret because behind the Iron Curtain, even the thought of leaving the protected communist territory was punishable by law. The law persecuted not only the criminal but all around him who knew about the planned event or were in proximity to him that they might know about it.

Originally the crime we contemplated was classified as leaving the country without legal permission. It carried a penalty of one year in prison and that is the sentence we received in absentia later on. Unfortunately, we hadn’t made up our minds to leave when it would have been relatively easy and over time, conditions worsened and the borders were closed tighter and tighter. At the time we actually left, they were virtually impenetrable. In the legal eyes of my government, I had been guilty of kidnapping my children from the state. The penalty for that was ten years in prison and my kids would be taken away from me because I would be deemed as unfit to bring them up as loyal citizens. If you are a parent, maybe you can imagine the extreme agony involved in making that decision and actually acting on it. I did it for my children and they would be the price to pay if I got caught.

We crossed the border against all odds in June 1970 and I knew that God, even though I was not aware of Him at the time, had to orchestrate the circumstances in such a way for that to be possible. In the retrospect I believe that God had a date with me in the United States, so He had to get me there.

The second part of my story is my spiritual encounter and experiencing God. I am convinced that the second part of my story is more important, and that the first part is simply the vehicle to bring it to the reader and illustrate the background.

CZECHOSLOVAKIA 1968

Prague Spring

1

Help! Doctor! Somebody, please help! The baby is coming!

I’m alone in the hospital delivery room, terrified no one will come in time. I can feel the baby with my hand and I wonder if I can deliver it alone. Lying on the narrow obstetrical delivery table without enough room to rest my arms, I shake with exhaustion. The baby is going to be very slippery. Oh God, I hope I won’t drop it.

Help! Help! I call out. I finally hear the voice from the next room.

Hold on, I’m coming, just let me wash my hands.

Holding on is easy for her to say; it feels like all the forces of nature are pressing against the weakness of my body. Suddenly, a doctor appears—thank goodness! She has no time to put gloves on. She jumps to the table and screaming for the nurse, she catches the baby’s head just in the nick of time.

It’s a boy, Mrs. Lipecka! What are you going to call him?

Thomas, I hear myself saying, thankful that everything is over. The clock on the wall shows 7:30 a.m.

I am falling in and out of sleep. It’s funny what thoughts flow through my mind in the twilight of sleep. I think about my previous deliveries. When Marie was born, Paul had been three years old. We had been expecting a boy, Thomas. Instead, we brought home a little girl. Joseph, my husband, told me that when he came from the hospital to pick up Paul at his grandmother’s and had announced that Paul had a little sister, his first response was, And when are we going to have Thomas? I wish I could have been there to hear it.

Mrs. Lipecka, here is your son, it is time to feed him, I hear from a distance.

I wake up and look at the bundle in my arms. He is a big boy, nearly nine pounds and twenty-two inches long, but he seems so tiny in comparison to his six-year-old brother and three-year-old sister waiting for him at home. He has ten fingers, I checked. His nose is all swollen and black and blue; the nurse told me not to worry, that it was caused by the speed with which he was born and that it would be gone in a couple of days. I am not producing milk yet, so I just play with him, trying to get him to open his eyes.

Finally, I am successful and he opens them, they are dark, blue as the sky above. I hear birds singing through the window next to me. My bed, next to the open window, looks out onto the hospital garden. It is a beautiful spring day, Monday, March 25, 1968.

The stormy political situation in my country is easing up and people are more open and considerate to each other. The so-called Prague Spring is underway in Czechoslovakia, officially the Czechoslovak Socialist Republic. The atmosphere of fear that has permeated our society for so many years under the communist regime is diminishing.

It is a good time to be alive. It is a good time to be born.

My thoughts wander again. I miss my kids. I look forward to seeing Paul and Marie welcome their new brother into our home. The last couple of weeks they couldn’t wait for him to arrive. They were almost as anxious as I was.

Where is Joseph? My mother promised to help with the children, which would free him to come to see me and the baby. I received the flowers he sent, my favorite, carnations, so I assumed he knew that the baby had arrived safely.

After dropping me off at the hospital, he had to go right back home to take care of the kids. It’s a pain that my parents don’t have a phone. Joseph can’t visit them and let them know about their new grandson until late morning. Before that, he’d take Marie to nursery school and Paul to kindergarten. My mother would probably pick them up in the afternoon. Mondays aren’t visiting days in the hospital (only Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday) but they might allow me to go down to the lobby. They have a phone there and I can call Joseph.

I’m in bed again. The lobby was too ambitious for me. I barely made it to the shower. I should get some more sleep, but I’m having strong, painful afterbirth cramps. I should see about getting something to ease the pain.

Today is Wednesday, a visiting day. My mother stopped by and gave me a report on Paul and Marie. My dad also came. He is a very reserved man who was not emotionally expressive, but I know he was pleased with the new addition to the family and that both of us are okay.

My understanding of my dad hadn’t come easily, but I always knew I could trust him. When I was growing up, we had many arguments. I keenly remember the frustration and helplessness at how he always managed to be one step ahead of me and my plans. By now, we have a mutual understanding. I have my own family and he won’t interfere, but he had a profound impact on who I am and on my understanding of the world and the people around me.

My dad was the first person after Joseph that I told about my first pregnancy seven years ago. It was November 1961 and I was nineteen years old then. He was sitting in his chair in the living room and my mother was in the kitchen. I walked in and sat down on the sofa across from him.

Suddenly I said, I have some news for you.

What’s that? he replied.

I sat looking shyly at the table, and then burst out all at once, I’m pregnant and I’m going to have a baby boy and he is going to be born on your birthday. Silence. I looked up.

With a soft smile and misty eyes, he said slowly, You know that I wish you all the best and fulfillment of all your wishes and prophesies.

Then we agreed to keep it secret until I could tell my mother so she wouldn’t feel hurt that I didn’t let her know first. In this case my prophesy was true, our first son, Paul, was born on his grandfather’s birthday.

Where is Joseph? What’s holding him up? Why hasn’t he come yet? Thomas and I are supposed to go home tomorrow. Does he know that? Will he be here to pick us up? The other new mothers in the room have their husbands visiting here. I swallow my tears and my pride, waiting.

Today is the big day. Thomas and I are going home. Joseph is here and all the pain and disappointments of yesterday are forgotten.

The taxi is moving slowly through what seems to be continuous reconstruction of the city. It is often dangerous for pedestrians to weave in and out under the omnipresent scaffolds that have become almost permanent masks hiding the beautiful faces of the historical old houses. The architectural beauty and uniqueness of Prague (especially the center, Old Town) have always had a strong allure for the many tourists who come here from all over the world.

Finally, we enter our housing development and I can see two small children playing in front of our building. They must be Paul and Marie, because everyone else is in school at this time of day. I can only guess how hard it was for them to patiently wait with their grandma in the apartment. The taxi stops and they run to meet us. As Joseph pays the fare, I hug all three of them, thanking God, if there is a God, for my family. My mother is in the doorway, waiting for us. I lay Thomas down on the sofa in the living room and I unwrapped him to make it easier for Paul and Marie to look at him. Kneeling next to them as they welcome their new brother, their faces fill with amazement and wonderment, their hands tenderly touching his little fingers. I wish I had a camera, but we don’t own one, so this moment of happiness will only remain in my memory.

After lunch, Marie, Thomas and I take a much-needed nap. Joseph and Paul go to a nearby park for a walk, and my mother starts to prepare dinner. She will return home in the evening after helping me put kids to bed. Then I will again resume the reins of my family.

2

We lived on the outskirts of Prague in a suburb called Garden City. After World War II, my country Czechoslovakia had a severe shortage of housing that we still haven’t recovered from. Most of the new apartments are co-ops built in huge complexes in the suburbs of large cities. We had to wait for our apartment for five years after we got married even though Joseph was a member of the co-op for nearly ten years prior to that. In 1965, we moved into our two-bedroom apartment with a balcony, still smelling of fresh paint and newness. Before, we had lived in one room walk-up on the sixth floor. The twelve-by-fifteen feet room had only a sink with no kitchen or bathroom. The bathroom at the end of the hall was shared with five other tenants. For cooking, we had an electric hotplate. We had a three-year-old son, Paul, and there was no way we could fit another crib in our room. I was seriously considering making a makeshift bunk bed with Paul’s crib. Luckily it didn’t come to that. Our daughter Marie was born one month after our move.

When we got our new apartment we felt very, very rich. At that time, it wasn’t uncommon for two or three generations of a family to live together in small flats. It had taken two years to build the apartment and we spent many Sundays during that time visiting the construction site and watching it grow. We saw huge panels (creating the infamous socialist panelaky) being put together like Legos and being welded into place. At that time, we didn’t mind climbing over hills of dirt and all kinds of building materials at the building site. We didn’t realize that we would have to live with these cumbersome obstacles for another two to three years after we moved in. Our building was the second finished in the whole complex. Roads, walkways, stores, and general landscaping didn’t even begin until all the apartment houses planned for that development were completed. Three years later, in between the buildings and right below our windows, we had a nice playground for children and a nursery and preschool right across the street. Paul and Marie were both enrolled there and they liked it very much. So, did I. I felt excited, like a kid on vacation, with a newborn in our apartment.

3

Just a week prior to Thomas’ birth, I was still teaching Czech language and physical education at a local junior high school. I also taught special education gym classes for kids with physical issues that prevented them from attending regular gym classes. I loved teaching and the kids knew it and responded. I enjoyed challenging them and they certainly provided plenty challenges for me.

After the delivery and hospital stay, I’ll have a restful break from work (one year paid and additional two years unpaid maternity leave). I am lying on the sofa, listening to Johann Strauss on the radio and in the background through the open window I can hear the laughter and happy noises of children playing on the playground. Spring is my favorite time of year. The sun is gentle and friendly and all the beautiful aromas of the moist ground surround you.

Nothing can wake up Thomas, sleeping in his basket on the balcony under the drapes of the cloth diapers drying in the light breeze and protecting him from the sun. I bend over Thomas, and pick him up to nurse him. His eyes roll around without focusing on anything. Thomas is a really good guy and cries very rarely. All of Thomas’ communication right now, aside from the crying, is limited to holding my finger. I talk to him, knowing he can hear me. I am more patient now, but I remember clearly my frustrations with Paul as a baby: how long I had to wait for his smile and for when he finally recognized me.

Feeding finished and his diaper changed, Thomas and I change and walk to pick Paul and Marie up from school. Then we walk through the neighborhood, showing off Thomas, and shop for food. Evenings are a little more hectic with cooking dinner (I’m not very good in this area and have to learn as I go), eating, bathing three kids, storytelling and getting them ready for bed.

Both Paul and Marie are very helpful with Thomas. They are a little disappointed they can’t help feed him yet, but they help with his bath by carefully washing his feet and hands while I hold his head and do the rest. We eat around six and the kids are usually in their beds by seven, ready for their dad to read them a bedtime story. That helps me a lot and gives me a chance to clean the kitchen, and still have some time to read, take a short walk, visit with neighbors or watch some TV before turning in. Joseph usually spends time in the evenings working on his book.

4

The Prague Spring brought significant political changes; not just in the government but also introduced new hope for the people of Czechoslovakia and their future. Shortly after Thomas was born, we had a new president, General Ludvik Svoboda. Several weeks prior to that, Alexander Dubcek had been appointed the First Secretary of the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia—the new leader of the Party, and as such the actual ruler of the country. The Communist Party’s new program under his leadership would be called socialism with a human face and, after twenty years of socialist’s oppression, it promised democratization of the political and economic systems. These reforms had the overwhelming support of citizens and media. It was the most exciting time for us as a nation that I can remember. There was a tangible sense of freedom and vibrancy as you walked down the street. We looked forward to a brighter future free of censorship, more political parties—not just the ruling Communist Party—and a free market including a loosening of travel restrictions. There were rumors that not everyone was happy about the new political developments in the country—namely the Soviet Politburo in Moscow—but it didn’t scare us. We were happy, excited, and naïve, willing to work hard to make the proposed changes come true and to loosen the tight chains which the Soviet Union used to bind its satellite nations. Yes, there were some skeptics (maybe even some of our leaders), but most people desired changes.

We left Prague to spend the summer of 1968 in Susice, where my husband had been born. Susice lies in the mountains in the Black Forest region (Sumava) in the southwestern part of Czechoslovakia, close to the border with West Germany. It is small town that was renowned before the war for making and exporting matches to the whole world.

I loved to go there, and ever since we’ve had kids, we spent our summers there. The children swam and played in the Otava River, we took long walks in the nearby woods, searching for mushrooms and picking various berries that were in season. It was a peaceful and relaxing time for all of us.

On one of these beautiful days we found many edible mushrooms. We had some of them with eggs for dinner and there were still plenty left over for me to thinly cut up and dry and bring home to Prague. The dried mushrooms would be a welcome addition to soups and goulashes in the winter.

As the summer came to an end, we started preparing to return to Prague. Paul was going to start the first grade on September 2.

Invasion

5

I don’t know how long it took before the baby’s cry penetrated my consciousness. Thomas then five months old, usually slept through the night and rarely cried. I changed his diaper, fed him, and put him back in his crib.

It was 2:30 a.m. and was still too early for me to get up, even when I am a morning person. I like the quietness of the early morning, the sunrises, and the solitude that ends when everyone wakes up. I turned on the radio to keep me company. As I busied myself with tidying up the kitchen and generally getting ready for the new day, I didn’t pay much attention to the program at first. Suddenly I heard the announcer saying, A Russian military plane has landed in the main civilian airport in Prague and now Russian tanks are approaching the Presidential Palace.

I thought it was some kind of strange radio show, but as I listened intently to it, I realized it was a hostile military action that I just couldn’t understand. Fear started to creep in. It was August 21, 1968.

I woke up Joseph and we listened together, trying to understand what we were hearing, and what it could mean. I must admit that neither of us was politically savvy. The radio announced that the armies of the Soviet Union, Poland, Hungary, East Germany, and Bulgaria had invaded our country, and the Czechoslovak army was ordered not to put up any resistance. How ridiculous! We were a member of the Warsaw Pact and countries in the Warsaw Pact were attacking us. There were no military secrets that could be used effectively to defend against them. The radio commentator periodically advised citizens not to enter the forests near the country’s borders, where the now hostile armies were encamped.

With the dawn of a new day approaching, lights started to sparkle in the windows of neighboring houses, front doors were opening with people pouring out of them, all as bewildered by the news as we were, seeking understanding and comfort from each other.

The children woke up. Paul was always the first and hungry the minute he opened his eyes. I made all of us oatmeal with local berries. Joseph and I tried to figure out how the present political development would change our immediate traveling plans. Joseph’s vacation was over and we had planned to return to Prague in just a couple of days. But now, we decided that we would have to stay longer.

We didn’t have much food in the house, because we had planned to leave soon. I got the kids ready and, still early in the morning, we went to the store to get some groceries. There were people everywhere on the streets. When I walked into the store, I was shocked. There was no food left; nothing edible remained. Only a few lonely bottles of cleaning products stood on the shelves. The reality of it hit me hard. What was I going to do? I had three small children to feed.

I went to another store even when I expected it would be the same there, and it was. We barely had enough food to last to the end of the day. As I slowly returned home empty-handed, I wanted to stop at our neighbor’s garden. Even though selling vegetables or anything else privately wasn’t legal at that time, I had bought vegetables from her many times before. There was a sign on the gate announcing, Nothing for sale. Feeling helpless, I started to cry. Paul noticed and started to hug me and comfort me, which made me bawl even more. How could I explain to my six-year-old son that I had nothing to feed him? Fortunately, the owner saw me from the window and came out to ask me what the matter was. When I told her, she was very gracious to me. She gave us eggs and vegetables to last about three days and she wouldn’t accept any money for it. I was so grateful. I will never forget her kindness.

Fortunately, the government managed to control the panic caused by the lack of food and immediately implemented food rations with severe consequences for noncompliance. It took only a few days and