My Search For the Meaning To Life

By Lorene Graham

Ecclesiastes 1:2-5, "Vapor of vapors and futility of futilities, says the Preacher, vapor of vapors and futility of futilities, all is vanity - emptiness, falsity and vainglory. What profit has man left of all his toil at which he toils under the sun? (Is life worth living?) One generation goes, and another generation comes, but the earth remains forever. The sun also rises and the sun goes down, and hastens to the place where it rises."

These scriptures depict what life is like when we do not k

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781682130698

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My Search for the Meaning To Life

LORENE GRAHAM

Copyright © 2015 Lorene Graham

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2015

ISBN 978-1-68213-068-1 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-68213-069-8 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter one

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter

one

My Childhood

Where do I begin to tell my story! Let me begin with my childhood. I was raised in the midwest of Canada in the ’50s and ’60s. Those were different days than the world we know now, but then again, every generation is different from the last. We were the baby boomers born rapidly and in great number after World War II was over in 1945. Those who survived the war were eager to put the horror behind them along with the memories of death and destruction, not to mention the Great Depression just before the war. Young women all over the country were waiting for the men to come home from war so they could get married and start a family. My parents met one day in the Royal Canadian Air Force office in Winnipeg Manitoba just after the war, and that is where their love story began. My father was getting his dismissal papers, and looked so handsome in his air force uniform. My mother worked behind the counter and did not miss noticing this very handsome young man with jet-black hair and a very distinguished scar over his right eye that made him look even more handsome. They were married six months later along with millions of other young couples after the war. They all had such great hopes of a new life with the war ending in victory and the depression finally over, and new jobs and opportunities opening up for many.

One thing though no one realized is although these survivors of World War II had learned great discipline and resilience surviving a deep depression and then a world war, they had also learned to shut off many emotions as survival skills for life. Most of the emotions that were needed to experience relational intimacy and human bonding were barricaded in their heart just so they could cope with the hardships they endured in the war. Consequently, many of their wives and children were starved for love and emotional connection from these wonderful men who had encased their hearts in a protective coating called emotional distance. Not all mind you had done this, but many did. The effects of it were to show up later when their children started to look for affirmation from a father figure while seeking male attention and affection. A platform was being built for sex, drugs, and rock and roll, all substitutes for affection and affirmation from their fathers.

Tom Brokaw wrote a book years ago called The Greatest Generation, and it was about our fathers who lived through the depression and fought for world peace against the Nazi’s in World War II and won. They truly were and still are The Greatest Generation. I honor and respect each and every one of them for their bravery and valor, my own father being one of them. But they, too, like all of us, had broken places that showed up in their children during the ’60s that still affect many of us to this day.

Now that I have given some background information, let me get back to my childhood. My mother was a stay-at-home mom, as most were back then, and my dad worked hard at the railroad providing for his family. I have a sister who is almost three years older than I am, and we shared a bedroom in our sweet two-bedroom house where we grew up. Our father was an atheist at the time, and our mother took us to the Anglican Church or the Church of England in our neighborhood. I found it confusing as a child with one parent telling us about God and Jesus, and the other parent saying there was no God. Who was right? I wondered. I believed that my mom was probably right, especially since I was much closer to her in a nurturing relationship than I was to my dad, who seemed so emotionally distant. My mom taught us how to say the Lord’s Prayer at bedtime. The Lord’s Prayer really made an impression on me as a young child. I felt there was truly someone out there in heaven listening to us say our prayers. I wanted to know if the God we prayed to was interested in knowing me personally. I did not feel His presence in the church, and with the organ music and all of the ritual performed every Sunday, I felt that God was quite harsh, distant, and indifferent. I did not enjoy the experience of going to church on Sunday with my mother and sister. It felt gloomy and impersonal. But I had to know if God was at all interested in knowing me. So I made appointments with Him to meet with me in my bedroom after school. I gave Him lots of time to schedule me in because He must have been very busy with taking care of the whole world. I would get home from school before my sister, so I would go straight to the room we shared and wait for Him to show up. I promised Him I would not tell a soul that He came to visit with me. I came home on the day of our scheduled appointment and went straight to my room, and waited and waited, and He did not come to meet with me.

I thought perhaps God was too busy to make it to the appointment date I had set, so I set another one giving Him more time to schedule me in for our appointment. Once again, I came straight home after school and went to the bedroom I shared with my sister, closed the door, and waited and waited and waited. Well, it was obvious He was too busy to come and meet with me and not interested in getting to know me. That was disappointing to say the least, so I decided I would have to go on a search to find the missing piece in my heart that always felt unloved. I would tell my mom about the missing piece in my heart, and she would give me a big hug to see if that helped take it away. The hug felt good, but it didn’t take away the sad place in my heart. My mother was quite concerned about what she could do to help me find the missing piece for