Agape Love: God's Love

By Jeanne Jacobson

Have you ever had doubts that God is real? 

I was taught to pray to God at an early age, and I believed God was real. However, when I grew up, I felt God was far away and not interested in my everyday life. Because of the difficulties with my mother and the hatred I had inside, I could not bel

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trilogy Christian Publishing
• Release date: Jul 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887387673

Jeanne Jacobson

Jeanne Jacobson worked for the state government for eleven years, was married to a pastor for forty-four years, and is currently a widow. At age fortynine, she began experiencing God's greatness and mercy, and she testifies that it was during this time period that God went about restoring her life. She is an ordinary housewife and has raised four children (two boys and two girls).

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

First and foremost, I wish to thank God the Father, who gave me life; to Jesus, who redeemed me; to the Holy Spirit, who helped me write this book.

I thank my husband, who encouraged me from the start and was a sounding board for my ideas; my daughter, Jeannette, who designed the cover and helped me navigate my way through the technical aspects of production; my friend, Robyn, who stood with me through the tough times and continued to love me; my friend, Lois, who gave me a book on grammar; and my friends, Bob and Sharon, who cheered me on.

INTRODUCTION

This book is the personal experience of the author and is based on facts; however, the names of people and places have been changed. It traces portions of the author’s life from the beginning and reveals what can happen when a mother is unable to love her child.

In Leviticus 25:8 (NIV), are the words:

Count off seven sabbaths of years—seven times seven years—so that the seven sabbaths of years amount to a period of forty-nine years.

In Leviticus 25:10 (NIV), are the words:

Consecrate the fiftieth year and proclaim liberty throughout the land to all its inhabitants. It shall be a jubilee for you; each of you is to return to his family property and each to his own clan.

At age forty-nine, God supernaturally intervened in the author’s life; it was a total surprise. He showed His agape love by breaking down the walls of bitterness and hatred, and He poured His love into a wounded soul and restored a broken life.

It is the author’s hope that this book will help people believe that God is real and know that He loves them with an everlasting love.

The best example of Agape (pronounced a-ga-peh) love is John 3:16 (KJV).

For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

SECTION 1—

THE ROOTS OF ANGER

Chapter 1

The Formative Years

It was chilly on the twentieth day of September as a little caravan crossed the rolling prairie, and the piercing sun shone directly into the driver’s eyes and, at the same time, heating the cars to a comfortable state. Dorothy led the way in a green sporty coupe towing a pop-up camper, and Anna, her eight-month-old daughter, was sitting in a car seat beside her, and three baby rabbits were in the back seat in their wire cage. Her husband, Paul, brought up the rear in a small yellow station wagon with Jonathan, age seven; Vicki, age six; and Robbie, age three. The highway glistened as it stretched out in front of Dorothy like a ribbon, and she could see a smattering of vehicles in the distance; the smell and sounds coming from the bunnies were not distracting, and Anna was asleep, leaving her with her thoughts.

She was oblivious to the scenery, for she had seen it before when she and Paul lived in an isolated town in the same state where brown grass, relentless wind, and dry climate were predominant. Now, they were returning to this vast western plain to a town of 53,000 at the foot of a range of mountains. The new post, Rockland, promised to be an improvement, but Dorothy was dubious; she knew it could not be—she just knew it.

She and Paul traveled the same road four months earlier with their youngest son, Robbie, when Paul (a pastor) had an interview for a position. Recurring hay fever attacks made him zealous to return to a territory of less pollen and humidity, and when he decided to take the position, Dorothy felt her wishes were not considered, and she became angry. They were vacating Maplewood, where they lived for five and one-half years. It was a friendly community of 1000 people; it was clean and well-maintained; the parks and lawns were green; the weather was stable. Dorothy grew up in Greenville, eighteen miles away, and two of her children, Robbie and Anna, were born in Greenville.

She recalled her childhood years and the white house, where her grandparents, Garrett and Mae, resided with four of their children: Rudolph, Eleanor, Elizabeth, and Jackie. Their oldest son, Walter, lived in a house across the street, and their second son, Edward, built a house on a lot bordering his parents’ property; both sons were married, but they had no offspring. Their third son, Gene, and his wife, Ginger, lived in a two-room store building attached to a garage and coal shed fifty feet from his parents’ home, and to this union, Dorothy was born. She was the first grandchild of fifteen—eight girls and seven boys. To accommodate his family, Gene built a three-room house on a plot of land he owned that abutted Edward’s lot.

She pictured her parents as a young couple. Her father was a handsome man with striking blue eyes and curly brown hair, and her mother was a tall, slender woman with hazel eyes and red hair that parted in the middle and hung in loose waves to her shoulders. In the depression years, money was scarce, and Ginger lacked the basic food necessary for an expectant mother; as a result, Dorothy weighed four pounds and nine ounces at birth and required a high protein diet, and Gene had to sell one of the few things he owned (his prized shotgun) to buy the formula she needed. One winter night, the fire in the coal stove went out, and Dorothy’s body turned blue, and Gene awakened and feverishly rubbed her tiny frame with his hands until a rosy color returned. A sister, Jane, was born one year later, and she weighed three pounds and expired after three days. When Dorothy was older, her parents told her of her premature birth and of Jane’s death, and this knowledge led her to believe it was God’s will she lived.

Ginger was a responsible woman, and each day she bathed Dorothy, put clean clothes on her, and fed her, but she did not cuddle her. Ginger’s father deserted his wife and family when she was very young, and many years passed before her mother remarried; consequently, Ginger yearned for the security of her husband’s love as well as the love she had not received from her father, and she saw Dorothy as competition for Gene’s affection.

Family members showered Dorothy with attention; however, Ginger was determined Dorothy would not be spoiled, and she spanked her whenever she misbehaved. Dorothy grew accustomed to kinfolks, but when strangers came around, she would stand behind her mother and pull the bottom of her mother’s skirt over her face, thinking she was invisible. She was three years old when her brother, Louis, came home from the hospital on a snowy day in January; there was much commotion, and after a brief look at him, she was taken to her grandmother’s house, and it seemed as though her parents cared more about the baby that day.

Dorothy’s relatives often played cards at her parents’ home, and she would sit on her father’s or uncle’s lap to watch the game, and she hungered for this bonding. One evening they arrived early, and she was drying the dishes and placing them in the metal cabinet on the opposite side of the room when she dropped a plate, and it shattered.

You must go to bed when you’re done, said her mother.

She knew she would be punished if it happened again, and she carefully dried the dishes and placed them in the cabinet. After she put the last saucer in its place, she pleaded with her mother to stay up, but without success, and she went into the bedroom with a mad face and stuck out her tongue, thinking no one could see.

Unknowingly, Ginger was hot on her heels, and she said sternly, Don’t you ever stick your tongue out at me!

She pulled Dorothy’s underpants down and spanked her hard, and Dorothy cried, and it ignited a spark of animosity. In the preschool years, Ginger routinely gave Dorothy a bath in the afternoon and put her to bed for a nap, and when she awoke, Ginger put clean clothes on her so she would be presentable for her father. One summer day, she robed Dorothy in a pretty pinafore with ruffles on the straps, and then they walked hand in hand on the dirt path to Edward’s house. When they approached the screen door, Pat, Dorothy’s cousin, came outside sporting an identical garment (their mothers made them from printed flour sacks), and the girls hugged, and then they grabbed each other’s hands, danced in a circle, and shouted with glee.

Pat was nine months younger than Dorothy, with a smaller bone structure and straight blond hair, unlike her cousin’s curly brown locks. Pat’s father, Edward, built a sandbox under a cherry tree, and the girls had fun for hours playing in the sand, and oftentimes they shampooed each other’s hair with the granules pretending they were at the beauty shop. On hot, sunny days, they placed a blanket on the grass in the shade of the grape arbor in Pat’s backyard and played with their dolls, and if they wanted something to eat, their mothers allowed them to toast bread on a stick by holding it over a burn-barrel fire fueled with garbage and papers. When Dorothy and Pat were respectively six and five years old, their fathers put a barrel on its side and placed a board on top for a teeter-totter, and the girls would sit on it in the summer evenings and sing a popular cowboy song. Each time Dorothy’s end went up, she imagined she could rise in the air above the tall elm tree, hoping to stay forever in this place.

Her grandfather, Garrett, and two of his sons, Edward and Gene, operated a roofing business, and it was a heart-stirring time when the men came home from work. Dorothy and Pat would run to the end of the driveway and hop onto the running board of the black Model A Ford, and their dads would hold on to them through the open window as the car moved slowly toward the garage, and when Louis was older, he, too, rode on the running board. The entire family shared one car, and they used it for work and personal necessities; they were poor but proud and did not go on welfare as others did.

On December 11, 1941, the United States declared war on Germany and Japan, and Dorothy’s uncles were drafted. Walter served with the Armed Forces in England; Edward served with the Army in North Carolina; and Rudolph served with the Navy in the Pacific. Although Gene wanted to represent his country, a heart murmur kept him from active duty, and he and his father looked after the women and little ones in the men’s absence. When the men came home on furlough, the families got together for fried chicken dinner in the shade of the large trees in her grandparent’s yard, weather permitting. At one of these gatherings, Dorothy’s uncle Walter let her wear his military hat with a brim, and despite the fact it was too big for her head and partly covered her face and ears, she felt special wearing it; her brother, Louis, and cousin, Pat, also wore the hat. To add to this joyful occasion, Louis had on an Army uniform with short pants, and he looked like a miniature soldier in his high chair.

Dorothy was four years old when her uncles left for military service, and each night she and her mother kneeled with their arms on the bed and prayed. Tears filled her eyes as she named her uncles one by one, and her mother consoled her with the belief that God in heaven would bring them back unharmed. Though she was taught to pray at an earlier age, she was learning to trust God in a deeper way, and when the war ended, all three of these important men in her life came back without a scratch.

When Dorothy was six years old, she enrolled in the first grade at the parochial school two blocks away. Her Aunt Jackie was in the eighth grade, and each morning, she waited while Ginger wrapped Dorothy’s hair around her finger to form ringlets, and after she put a ribbon in her hair, the girls trotted down the street. The minute they were out of sight, Jackie picked Dorothy up and ran down the alley to the school, for she did not want to be late as the principal was a strict man.

In the second grade, Dorothy walked to school by herself because Jackie advanced to high school, and her cousin, Pat, enrolled in the public school one block away. Her parents bought her a new pencil box, and on the first day of school, it disappeared. When she went home for lunch, she told her grandfather, and he walked her back to class, and after she took her seat, he introduced himself and said a few intimidating words, and as if by magic, the pencil box reappeared under her desk. She was afraid to say anything to the boys and girls in her room or to her teacher, but she was glad her grandfather was not afraid.

The following year Pat transferred to the two-room parochial school, and each day, as she and Dorothy walked past the public school, the pupils called them names and hurled rocks, and one frosty morning, a group of boys pushed Dorothy and stole her hat. She was intimidated by these bigger children who threatened her, and it was through her parents’ actions her hat was returned. When Dorothy was in the third grade, she did not go outside and play during recess for five days in a row because she was shy, and her teacher let her sit at her desk in the classroom; it was a miserable experience, and the following week she ventured outside and joined her classmates at recess. In the fourth grade, her bashfulness diminished, and she was drawn to a boy named Eddie.

The year Dorothy entered the fourth grade, her brother, Louis, made his first-grade debut, and one day a boy in the second grade named Marty assaulted Louis. The moment Dorothy and Pat heard about it, they were up in arms, and after school the next day, they lay on their stomachs under the branches of the overgrown bushes at the edge of the school property and waited for Marty to come down the alley, and when he was a few yards away, they jumped up and punched him in the face and chest.

Don’t you ever hit my brother, said Dorothy.

Marty cried, and he said, I’m going to tell my dad.

We’ll beat you up if you do! Dorothy yelled as he ran away.

With trepidation, the girls told their parents, and to their surprise, they received only a mild scolding. The next day, they tracked Marty’s every move, and he was keenly aware of their interest and never bothered Louis again.

When Dorothy was ten years old, Ginger taught her how to iron, sew, and bake. Pie-making was a skill that women in her family cultivated, and she wanted to do it better than anyone, and if the truth be known, she wanted to succeed at everything. When Dorothy’s cousins were born, she held them as babies and occasionally babysat, and after she was confirmed at age thirteen, she was a sponsor for two of them at their individual baptisms.

Her reminiscing ground to a halt when suddenly the headlights on the car went out, and she could barely see the highway in the dim moonlight, and she steered to the side of the road and stopped, and Paul pulled in behind her. His auburn hair whipped wildly in the wind as he approached her car, and though he looked weary from hours on the road, she blamed him for the failure of the lights and the move to Rockland.

Paul did not argue, and he said, I’m positive there’s a town nearby. Follow me.

He started his car and backed up, and as he drove onto the highway, pebbles flew in every direction. Dorothy followed close behind, and they came to a small town; it had one campground, and Paul rented a campsite. The family huddled in the station wagon while Paul set up the camper, and when they were inside, Dorothy handed out water and junk food, which was gobbled up. The cold penetrated their bones, and they crawled into sleeping bags to get warm. Dorothy snuggled with Anna, and after she gave her a bottle that she had heated up in a special bag that plugged into the car’s cigarette lighter, they were dead to the world.

Chapter 2

The Journey Continues

The wind had died down by morning, but the air was nippy, and Dorothy pined for the warm weather of her home state as she got out the cereal and milk. After everyone had eaten, Paul packed up the camper, and they headed for Rockland, with Paul taking the