A Story of Joy

By Janis Lipinsky

A Story of Joy offers readers a glimpse into one woman's unwavering belief in God, even when faced with seemingly insurmountable challenges. This story is a testament to the human spirit's resilience and the transformative power of faith.

The central theme of Jan's longing for another child while navigating the complexitie

• Language: English
• Publisher: Janis Lipinsky
• Release date: Jan 9, 2024
• ISBN: 9781962142267

Book preview

Chapter 1

Desperate Longing

But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

― Matthew 6:33

It was a gorgeous sunny afternoon in the fall of 1983, a perfect day for a wedding. The beautiful old Catholic Church in the South Side of Pittsburgh was the perfect setting with its majestic stained-glass windows, the gracefully elegant statues, flickering candles on the altar, and the scent of fresh flowers filling the air. The bride was the daughter of Denny’s co-worker and a good friend. The church was filled with friends and family quietly chatting while waiting for the wedding to begin.

Denny and I were sitting side by side in the pew waiting for the bride to walk down the aisle. I looked over at Denny, the man I had been married to for the past ten years and reflected on how very blessed I was.

My husband was a handsome muscular man with very fair skin, red hair, and lots of freckles. High school sweethearts, we had essentially grown up together. We met at a local diner in Bethel Park in 1968 that was a hangout for teenagers. I was a carhop, and Denny was a frequent customer. No, I didn’t wear roller skates, but the diner was definitely the place to show off your hotrods and muscle cars.

Denny drove a white 1960 Corvette with a red interior that was quite impressive. When he drove through the parking lot with the engine rumbling, everyone looked. His beautiful convertible was an eye-catcher. He knew almost everyone at the diner, but since I was new there, he was very curious about me. One of the girls I worked with said he had been asking questions about me, so I asked her questions about him. I was curious, too. He often flirted with me, but it took him several weeks before he worked up the nerve to ask me out. Even then it was a vague invitation.

It was the Thursday before Easter weekend, and he stayed at the diner until my shift ended and gave me a ride home from work. He casually asked, So when are we going to go out? I said, How about Sunday night? I had a date for Friday and Saturday with two different guys, but no date for Sunday, which was Easter and my 16th birthday. He looked a little surprised that I was so bold, but he grinned and said, I’ll pick you up at 6.

That encounter seemed so random at the time, but it changed the course of my life. I certainly didn’t realize it then, but this was the man God had chosen specifically for me. When we set that first date, I like to think that God was in heaven with a big grin nodding in approval.

We went to dinner at a fancy restaurant with another couple, and he treated me like a princess. I felt so special. After dinner, we went downtown to see an R rated movie. I had never seen an R rated movie, but I didn’t say anything. He was 18 after all, and I didn’t want him to think I was an immature baby. We got to the movie late and had to sit in the front row. The movie we saw was Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice. I was so very embarrassed! There we were in the front row, and they showed the women’s bare chest on the big silver screen. They were giant-sized! I sunk down in my seat and closed my eyes. It is a good thing that it was dark in the theater because I am sure my face was beet red. This was back when girls were still embarrassed by that stuff.

After the movie, I had a hard time maintaining eye contact, so I am sure he could tell I was a little uncomfortable. As it turns out, he had never been to an R rated movie either; he was just trying to impress me. We laughed and agreed that we would stick to the G and PG movies in the future. He was a perfect gentleman and I really liked him. It wasn’t long after that first date that I was dating Denny and only Denny. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship and forever love affair.

We dated for a little over two years before getting married. When we walked down the aisle, I was only 19 and he was 21. I had just completed a nine-month secretarial course at a local business school downtown, and then started a job at a bank in their tax department. Denny was working as a laborer for a road construction company.

We were happy to be married, but I was surprised how much of an adjustment it is to live with someone else, even when you are in love. We were really pretty compatible with most things, but there were a lot of little things that he was accustomed to doing differently. He apparently never had to worry about putting the toilet seat down or squeezing the toothpaste tube in the middle instead of the end. In his family, they refrigerated peanut butter and maple syrup and froze their butter. We had one of our most memorable fights over butter. Yes, butter!

Our refrigerator broke, and it took several days until it could be fixed because the repairman needed to order parts. In the meantime, Denny took all of our food from the refrigerator over to his brother’s house and put it in his refrigerator and freezer for safekeeping. When I went to pick up the food after our refrigerator was up and running again, my sister-in-law helped me to load it into boxes. As I loaded the food from the freezer into the box, I saw that Denny had once again put my butter in the freezer. A surge of anger welled up inside of me.

It seems like such a silly thing to get upset about, but since Denny’s mother always put her butter in the freezer, he took it upon himself to freeze my butter. My mother never froze butter, and I didn’t know anyone else in the whole world who froze butter. Every time I went to use my butter, it was a frozen brick. I repeatedly told Denny that you didn’t need to freeze butter. I showed him the package that said to refrigerate not freeze. But yet, he kept putting my butter in the freezer!

When I arrived back home with the food, Denny was waiting for me. I pulled the frozen butter out of the box and promptly threw it at him. Yes, I know, that was a little dramatic, but I was really frustrated. I shouted, Imagine my surprise when once again I find my butter in the freezer! If you want to freeze butter, go home to your mother and freeze her butter, but leave my butter alone! He didn’t take that very well. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t have to – his expression said it all. He turned around, grabbed his coat and marched out the door. He took off in the car laying a strip of tire on the road as he peeled out.

At first, I felt justified. He just had to respect the fact that this was my kitchen, I did the cooking, and I didn’t want frozen butter. I wanted to do things my way, and he had to stop comparing everything I did with what his mother had always done. To be honest, I was not that competent in the kitchen, especially compared to his mother. My culinary skills when we got married consisted of making toast and a ham sandwich. If it weren’t for my Betty Crocker cookbook, we would have definitely starved to death. If it wasn’t in that cookbook, we didn’t eat it because that was all I knew how to make.

After three hours when he still hadn’t come home, I started to wonder if maybe I overreacted a bit. Throwing that hard frozen brick of butter probably left a bruise. Satan knows just how to use our feelings of inadequacy and jealousy against us. That’s what this argument was really about – my jealousy of his mother because, in my eyes, Denny wanted to do things her way instead of my way. Don’t we sometimes act really foolish when we don’t get our way? Even over silly things.

After four hours, I was pacing the floor wondering where he could possibly be. I was beginning to wonder if he was coming home at all. He finally pulled into the driveway five hours later at about 9:30 pm. He walked in and totally ignored me; he refused to look at me. I said, I was beginning to wonder if you were coming home at all. With a straight face, he looked me in the eye and said, I was busy freezing butter. We both started laughing. It really was a ridiculous fight. I apologized for throwing butter at him; he apologized for freezing the butter. All was forgiven. The best part of this story is that he never put my butter in the freezer ever again.

The first several years of marriage went by quickly. Our first child came along after two years. When I was pregnant, I thought it would be so cool to have twins, but then our son Jeff was born, and I quickly realized how exhausting motherhood could be! Jeff had colic and was not a happy baby. He spit up constantly and cried for the first six months of his life. Just when I thought I would lose my sanity, his little belly settled down, and he was truly a delight. He was calm and content, and a little laid back. He followed Denny around like a little shadow. He loved hanging out with his dad in the garage. He had his own little tool set and played with it all the time. His favorite toy was a little wooden hammer and a set of wooden pegs that he hammered down and turned it over and hammered again. He carried that little wooden hammer with him everywhere.

Four years later, our second child Christopher arrived. The difference between the two boys was like day and night right from the beginning. Chris was a happy healthy baby with no stomach problems, always smiling and extremely active. He was walking at nine months and by his first birthday, he was climbing on everything. I had to keep him in my sights at all times because he was always getting into something. He would jump on the bed and knock pictures off the wall. Jeff was in the crib until age four when Chris was born. Chris figured out how to climb out of the crib before age two. He would pull out the kitchen drawers and use them as a ladder to climb onto the kitchen counter. When Chris was about two and a half years old, he got up early one morning when everyone was still asleep. He climbed up onto the kitchen counter, took all of the cards out of Denny’s wallet, and put them into the toaster and pushed down the lever. It was only by God’s grace that the toaster didn’t catch on fire! The credit cards were definitely toasted though. They were all black and charred and melted. That could have been a real disaster.

Jeff was cautious and practical; Chris was adventurous and impulsive. Jeff liked to follow the rules, and Chris like to push it to the limit. Although Jeff and Chris had very different personalities, they got along well. We were truly blessed. We had two healthy, rambunctious boys to keep us busy. We had a really cute split-level home in a quiet suburb of Pittsburgh with great neighbors and friends.

By this time, Jeff was nine and Chris was five. I really and truly was grateful for what I had, but as I was sitting in that old Catholic Church waiting for the bride to walk down the aisle, that wistful feeling of regret came flooding back again and washed over me like a tidal wave. I truly thought I had put this behind me, but here it was again, that irresistible longing for another child, a little girl to make our family complete.

This past year I had been consumed by the desire to have another baby. I desperately wanted another child, but Denny did not. I won’t lie or sugar-coat the truth. He usually gave me whatever I wanted (within reason), so I was not used to being told no. I tried the coercion tactics that typically worked. I tried being so sweet and nice that my gag reflex was kicking into gear. I tried the cold shoulder routine. I tried pouting, and, yes, even begging. But he simply would not budge. He was perfectly content and satisfied with our family as it was and did not want to change anything.

I am a woman of strong faith, so I prayed for God to change Denny’s mind. Having children was a plan designed by God, right? So having another child would be in God’s will. I thought that surely God would grant me this one thing I truly wanted. My boys were terrific, but I just felt like our family was not complete. I desperately wanted another child.