Book of Lin: The Lost Sunbeam

By Lin Baytree

Wounded by willful acts of human depravity and marauding demonic forces, my family was an assemblage of souls composed of glass shards, slivers of stone and torn fabric. Nevertheless, God is an intricate designer who manifests a deep-rooted concern for those who diligently seek him.

We were salvaged from the ruins where gloom hung like folds of heavy drapery. The weaving of God's hands came alive, binding into everything, coiling into human souls and tying surrounding elements into an artful composition.

This book of hope and rescue provides a glimpse into the spiritual world that goes unnoticed by many. It is a revelation of God's concern for his people. Contained within these pages is an insight into the God of Abraham who is approachable and waiting to hear from you.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9781638744597

Book preview

1

Haunted by Memories

It is my belief that Billy’s physical ailment had been exacerbated by past emotional torment. Conflicting thoughts occurred as previous worries interfered with the deep affection held for him. Now that he was gone, there could be no resolution. Remorse was driven by feelings of shame at having abandoned Billy. As a little girl, I had always pictured myself to be the protector of my big brother against all enemies. It was obvious that this mission had failed miserably. There were so many questions. What happened to Billy? What caused him to behave with such vitriol toward me in the past? Turning anger inward had been a learned process since childhood and as expected, self-beratement ensued.

I showered in the early mornings. It was a place of cloistered seclusion cut off from the rest of the world. The metallic head hung loosely above my body as pulsating streams of water beat against my skin. The sensation should have caused muscles to relax. Instead, rhythmic contractions culminated in a shaking response. Watery fluid escaped from my eyes. It had a salty yet bitter taste. Our family had been fractured into so many pieces that for over sixty years, it has remained in a state of nonunion. By all appearances, it could neither be mended nor restored. Tears, filled with heartbreak and regret, streamed down my face. My voice called out in agony despite the belief that there could be no answer to the dilemma.

Two weeks passed, yet endless misery persisted. God does not want believers to suffer or be stifled in the celebration of life, Donna assured. Even when we are unable to compose a prayer, he hears the words that are on our hearts. Our anguish is his anguish. These thoughts brought moments of encouragement, but it was fleeting. As the days passed, a deep desire to understand the reasons behind the sorrows grew.

Unexpectedly, midway through the third week, bursts of memories long buried awakened. Recollections arose to a position of prominence and began multiplying rapidly. Each depiction of past events was vivid and came forward without hesitation or conscious effort. On many nights, thoughts from the past caused an awakening. During these times, it was imperative to record every element so that nothing would be left behind. Each occurrence was vastly detailed as though I had stepped into the past in real time.

During the day, a pad and pen were kept nearby to chronicle all events coming to light. The findings from them would prove distressful, but each issue had to be faced if healing was to begin. Donna brought assurance that God catches each tear we shed. My heart remained broken, awaiting in faith that God would complete the delicate task of sewing a seamless repair.

Discussions provided an opportunity for ongoing examination and analysis of the abuse and neglect that befell our childhood years. Articles on psychology in the areas of behaviorism and psychoanalytic theory were as tendrils clinging to stone or brick pieces. Each brought anchoring support to the puzzle. Echoes of the past congealed into a collective. Over the pursuing months, long-suppressed memories randomly unfolded.

Remembrance of a dream that occurred in youth brought reassurance. It was a simple premise and, at the same time, an article of faith that the future would be better than the past. In this childhood dream, I was visited by my older self. Although forbidden to be within close proximity to one another, we were able to communicate. My older self spoke encouragingly and indicated that there was a purpose for my life that would one day be revealed. This dream recurred one other time at age twenty-seven. Twice over, I awoke from the dream, which seemed reality, to the reality which was a dream.

Life is a mission that is intended to be shared. Donna asserted, Believers are never alone during times of heartache because God grieves with us. Might it be that God patiently waits for the past to be put behind in order that the sunbeam whom he always knew and loved penetrated the darkness? Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. (Luke 12:6–7).

Billy’s memorial service was creative through its reflections of his lifelong accomplishments. Remembrances began with soundtracks of his prayers, poems, and scriptural recitations. These comprehensive writings expounded his evangelical call for people to search their hearts for an answer to the most impactful question of all time: Who is Jesus Christ? Inexplicably, this was the interrogative that besieged me. For two decades, the question brought emotional encumbrance that could be likened to carrying a disproportionate knapsack of momentous weight.

From the time Billy first stepped through the narrow gate, he continued to lead an abundant Christ-centered life. Ominous forecasts regarding his musical pursuits had been abolished.

As a young child, Billy was my only playmate and best friend. It will be revealed that a monster had twisted him into a tormentor whom I had come to fear. Unconscionable behaviors by the beast caused each family member to suffer long-lasting heartache, and as such, my heart finds its way back into an unfathomable pool of sorrow.

In the 2006 movie, Lady in the Water, a mystical Narf comes into the world of mankind. Her mission is as a prime mover to a writer. Her inspiration brings clarity of mind to an author whose book will affect future society. A yearning to share the story of my life persists. Its purpose is to bring encouragement and hope. As my children approached manhood, they became disheartened at life. An attempt was made to prepare them for the years that laid ahead. Life is like a rollercoaster. All that you can do is buckle up and hold on with all your strength and might.

One day, the eldest child came to me in great emotional distress, proclaiming, Mother, mine is a personality like yours. It is hard to withstand the pain that comes when angry words are directed at me.

You need to understand, son, hearts such as ours are gentle and easily bruised. Consider yourself lucky for it is this personality that God created for his own liking, and it is one in which he is especially pleased.

Through the years of youth, my heart, mind, and body received many beatings. The current world is fallen. Sin against people—both young and old—are committed. Each sentient person is given the free will to act upon the impulse to harm others. Curiously, sin has an accumulating effect upon the mind, causing it to become scarred and increasingly brazen. Sadly, the perpetrator’s injuries have lasting ramifications for its victims. My message is an urgent one for the unremorseful. Upon death, all who remain in their offense will enter an eternal place specifically prepared for them.

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Historical Beginnings

My paternal grandfather immigrated to the United States from Sweden in the late 1800s where he met his wife Olivia. They had three children. Grandfather succumbed to pernicious anemia in his forties. The youngest of the family, a daughter, died from diphtheria at age five. During each visit, Grandma reminded us of the precious child she had lost.

The eldest daughter grew to adulthood and pursued a nursing career. The family doted on their son, Robert, the academic. His ruggedly handsome face was complimented by sky blue eyes and sand-colored hair. He attended college. As an accomplished athlete, he lettered in wrestling and football. After graduating with a degree in chemistry, he accepted a professorship at the state university.

Intent on becoming a physician, he paid his way through school by working as an ambulance attendant. A toxicology position became available at the county medical examiner’s office. Robert participated in crime scene investigations long before the title was popularized. The job necessitated court testimony regarding his findings on gunshot residue (GSR) testing in addition to the analysis of a victim’s intoxication by deleterious agents.

Robert decided to pursue a career in the pediatrics specialty. After completion of residency requirements and state licensure, he opened the doors to his first office. Due to the combined knowledge of chemistry and human composition, he became a detail man. Pharmaceutical companies visited his place of work, seeking advice regarding newly developed drugs. He would explain from a chemical basis whether or not a medication had the potential to cause negative physiological effects on the human body.

Grandmother worked as a saleslady at a downtown department store. Olivia’s svelte figure was complimented by her silken complexion and pure white hair styled in a wavy mid-length fashion. Possessing the characteristics of a proper lady, she never appeared in public without being neatly dressed and adorned with a hat and gloves.

At the tender age of six, my maternal grandmother, Brenna, came to America from Wales by way of a ship to Ellis Island. It was said that her lineage was one of nobility. Brenna was accompanied by her parents. Unfortunately, that, which was coined a howling banshee, acquiesced into the family by way of invitation. This harbinger of woe and heralder of death is founded in Aeldari mythology. There is no longer doubt that the nymph of the air was much more than a whimsical fairy. Brenna had brown eyes that were warm, demure, and innocent. Regrettably, she collaborated with the spirit and drew strength from it. The presence of this spirit was responsible for wreaking havoc within future generations of our family.

Brenna married Douglas who was birthed on a country farm prior to the turn of the century. Brenna was of short stature in comparison to her husband of Scotch-Irish descent, who stood tall at six feet. Their daughter, Angela, was the third of six children borne of this union. The family homesteaded on a rural farm where Douglas imposed strict rules of conduct for his children. The family was poor, and as a common laborer, Grandfather struggled to support the household.

Great-grandmother raised her children with the motto No legacy is so rich as honesty. Perhaps it would have benefitted Douglas to have heard another phrase: The honest have value, the corrupt have a price. Douglas was a self-made man known for having a solid reputation. As a talented conversationalist, he grew in popularity among the townspeople and ran for sheriff.

As an officer of the court, his primary job was to serve and execute legal processes and mandates issued by the state courts and the legal community. Part of his duties included enforcement of prohibition. Douglas appointed several special deputies to augment in areas where additional manning was needed.

The county courthouse was destroyed in a fire the year Grandfather was to take office. Its magnitude was so great that the clock tower burned until it collapsed, and the roof caved in. Construction of a new courthouse was undertaken. The family rented a nearby home while pending completion of the municipal building two years later. The new structure was designed to provide living quarters for the sheriff and his family throughout the term of service.

The family living area spread over two floors. The sitting room, kitchen, and two bedrooms occupied the fifth floor. This area was separated from the jail cells by two immense steel doors. When these galvanized giants were opened, one could peer directly into the prison. The first of two detention cells held prisoners alleged to have committed civil offenses. The second detained people accused of felony murder. The third room was a padded cell followed by three other lockups. The sixth floor housed the elevator works. There was ample room on that floor to provide a much-needed bedroom for the two boys.

During his decade of service, Douglas reserved his earnings with plans of establishing a trucking firm. The small fleet supplied orders for coal, feed, and lumber within the nearby towns. He also envisioned a future in acreage sales and began to purchase plots of open land.

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Manifold Memories

Angela’s two youngest siblings received the most attention and care. During the summer months, the children occupied their free time reading books from the library. As an avid horse rider, Auntie assisted in the herding of sheep and cattle. The youngest of the boys had a mind for science, while the eldest enjoyed hunting. Memories of the last born child appeared to be without distress. She shared reminiscences of attending movies, symphonies, and plays.

Angela, who became my mother, primarily remembered times of abuse and neglect. She told the story of her middle brother who had broken curfew. Father took off his leather belt and beat him unmercifully. With a pained look etched on her face, she described the welts and buckle bites covering his body. When Father disciplined the girls, he’d use a switch cut from a tree. Angela leaned over and vigorously rubbed her legs while characterizing the raised marks that resulted from this form of punishment.

The eldest children experienced upsetting events while living on their grandmother’s farm. Angela described a time when she, along with her older brother and sisters, hiked a few miles to ice skate on a frozen pond. Father promised to pick us up at dusk. Darkness approached, but he never came for them. The cold night gales penetrated the children’s clothing.

Staring straight ahead, her eyes remained unfocused and dilated as though assessing past sensory information. She rubbed her hands together while recounting the long trek home through drifts of snow and icy wind. Stroking her fingertips, she seemed to relive the tingling, itching, and burning sensations once felt from the frostnip as the cold gained intensity. What should have been fun-filled memories instead became recollections of physical pain and emotional trauma resulting from parental neglect.

Angela’s memories of living in the courthouse were nightmarish in juxtaposition to those of her younger sister. Angela was frightened by sounds that emanated from behind the metal doors separating the detention cells from the family living quarters. I could hear prisoners wailing. There were many strange sounds coming from the jail. Moving into the courthouse during these formative years would prove to be a tragic experience that had tempestuous ramifications throughout adulthood. She often shared her fear of the jailhouse and spoke of the reassuring promise of her older sister, Don’t worry, Angela, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.

*****

The courthouse’s turret clock was adorned with a Victorian-style facade. The community relied on its accuracy and set their watches by it. The youngest members of the family held memories of discovery and adventure. They spoke of a journey into the clockworks. The weight-driven clock had its cylinder wound with a weighted chain that allowed gravity to pull it down. Through a series of mechanical linkages, escapements, and gears, the advancement of the clock’s hands was vigilantly regulated. The youngsters could not resist the urge to swing on the pull chains. The added weight and the arcing motion of their bodies caused the hands of the clock to turn at a faster than normal rate.

When the townspeople noticed that the hands on the dial differed widely from their watches, they called the sheriff’s office to inquire. The children were caught in the activity. There was no discipline by the use of belts or switches as had been the tools of choice in preceding years. Boundaries for the play were simply restricted in order to ensure that there would be no return to the area of the clockworks.

*****

Brenna tended to the home chores. She quilted, sewed, and canned fruits and vegetables. Brenna was given responsibility for the meal preparation of both her family and jailed prisoners. Cakes were the usual dessert fair. Angela expressed deep disappointment in how the family’s cake was served. Father sliced the cake in half taking one full portion for himself, leaving the other half to be shared by the rest of us.

Angela described her constant state of hunger as a child. With hands clenched against her chest, she typified her past appearance as being bone thin. On multiple occasions, the schoolmarm sent notes home addressing the teacher’s concern about Angela’s famished appearance. The messages went unacknowledged.

Great-aunt Liz had lost a young daughter to illness. Angela’s features were similar to those of her cousin. Owning a small celestial nose and wavy auburn hair, she touted, Auntie loved me as her own daughter and invited me to stay with her on the farm during the summer months. She remembered running to the wheat silo on the first day of arrival. In reflective thought, she cupped her hands to her mouth while describing her first actions. I was famished and ate by stuffing my mouth with hand full after hand full of raw grain in order to fill my empty belly. As a young girl, she learned to churn butter, snap beans, butcher chickens, and prepare slop for the hogs. It was during these summertime reprieves wherein she experienced a normal life.

It was Angela’s belief that her parents were too young to begin a family. She often stated, They were children raising children and could not perceive the needs of their own offspring. Douglas was the youngest of his immediate family. His birth was unexpected and unwanted by his mother who by then was of advanced age. Angela believed that this factor played a major part in the neglect of the four eldest progenies.

A scar lined mother’s upper lip. It measured about half an inch in length. I asked her how she acquired it. Angela was a natural athlete. She could catch most any item tossed. Grandfather used to say that she had been born with gum in her hands. One day, while out to play, Douglas called to her. Upon turning, a spoon that he had thrown in her direction struck the philtrum, cutting deep into her flesh. She dabbed her lip as though cleaning blood from an open gash. It was an unexpected toss that resulted in a missed catch.

*****

Douglas was a Freemason and Angela a Rainbow Girl. The International Order of the Rainbow for Girls (IORG) is a Masonic youth service organization, which teaches leadership training through community service. Young women ages ten to twenty-one learn the value of charity and service through their work and involvement with annual local, grand state, and country service projects. Angela spoke fondly of these memories. Her ribbons and gavel remain carefully preserved.

In the early twentieth century, young women were regularly given a choice of marriage or one of three careers. They could receive training as a teacher, secretary, or nurse. Both the eldest and youngest daughters married after graduating from high school. The next oldest entered nurses training as did Angela. Clinical training was taught at the city hospital. After graduation, Angela held a nursing position at the same facility. It was there that she met Robert. They married following a short courtship. The union bridged a fourteen-year age gap. Angela’s parents were displeased with her for having married an older man. Perhaps she should have listened to the advice as the age span became the prime mover in splitting the family into two separate entities. Between them, there would be five children.

*****

Angela could not become pregnant. Her reproductive organs had been injured during an exploratory surgery received as a teenager. As the months passed, Father’s impatience grew. There would be no further waiting period despite mother’s pleas for more time. Robert made the decision to visit an orphanage alone.

He adopted a young child, Sarah, and brought her home with the expectation that she would be well received. Angela was shocked at having no voice in the decision. Father was allowed to adopt a child without the approval of his spouse due to his standing as a physician in the community. Examining a photo of those early years, Mother appears happy, youthful, and thin in appearance as she holds my eldest sister in her arms.

Angela’s happiness dwindled when Robert brought a second child, James, and then a third child, Janice, home. Each of the children had set-backs for which mother felt burdened. She had been given the responsibility of raising three adopted children. Mother ruled the family in dogmatic fashion styled after the pattern of her own father.

Working with each of the children independently, her strategies provided structure. Care that had been lacking at the orphanage was furnished. Janice exhibited self-stimulating behaviors, and her stimming disorder was deterred. Angela was determined that each child overcome any obstacles that neglect had instilled. However, a clock began ticking until such time as mother’s peculiarities would manifest. The best evidence for this has come by way my eldest sisters’ earliest memories that will soon be described.

*****

As the years passed, there was a new development in fertility interventions that held a chance of opening Angela’s strictured fallopian tubes so as to permit egg fertilization. This was accomplished by injecting each conduit with an oil-based substance. The procedure proved successful, and pregnancy resulted shortly after instillation.

Angela carried the baby to eight months of gestation, at which time she developed hypertensive toxemia. Face, hands, and feet were severely swollen at the time of hospital admission. Pounding headaches arose, and attempts were made to distract herself from the pain’s intensity. In order to do so, she placed her feet on the wall next to her bed and moved them up and down in perpetual step-wise fashion as though she was pacing on the floor. Angela relived this memory many times. In mime-like fashion, she demonstrated this coping skill by moving her hands and arms in an alternating upward gesticulation.

Due to her health crisis, there was no other choice than to deliver the baby. My sister was born prematurely by Cesarean section method. Life-sustaining medicine was in its own infancy. There was no established means to support her breathing. The baby could not be stabilized and died within a few days following birth. Angela’s strength had been depleted. Having her hands full with three young children whom she did not want did not help matters. The physicians instructed her to never become pregnant again.

The advice was disregarded, and eighteen months later, Angela gave birth to my brother Billy. Within fifteen months following his birth, she became pregnant once more. I was the last to be born. The age difference between the older three and the youngest two was vast. Billy once stated that it was like having two families in the home. One consisted of father and the three eldest children. The other was composed of mother and the two youngest offspring. His evaluation of the family’s structure emphasized the importance of a father’s role in the lives of his children. Without proper direction or protection from abuse, frail and damaged egos can result.

Angela created chasms between each member of the family, making frequent exploitations possible. She exhibited odd behaviors and