A big lie has been perpetuated for more than a century, about the character of a character known as “Uncle Tom!” I hope to set the record straight here, and that many will choose to learn the truth, by reading one of the greatest and most controversial books in American history.
Uncle Tom’s Cabin, a book by Harriet Beecher Stowe (1852), meant to expose the hideous practice of SLAVERY, for what it was. However, although an instant best-seller, the book soon met with enormous opposition, that caused many to believe and spread an unfortunate myth, and to ignore truths that might have helped heal a divided nation, short of a deadly Civil War.
“He’s just an Uncle Tom!”
Many African Americans still use that misnomer to shame other black people they think of as “weak, go-along” sorts—“sell-outs to white masters.” But, why defame “Uncle Tom?” Where did that comparison come from, about a character I’ve come to admire as one of the greatest men ever written about—fictional or real?
Black slaves, likely unable to read Stowe’s stunning book back then, or barely even to speak English, no doubt believed the propaganda of the book’s CRITICS, who portrayed Uncle Tom as a traitor to the black race. Yes, an unfortunate myth!
Who Was “Uncle Tom”?
Uncle Tom’s Cabin describes its main character as a gentle, amiable black slave named Tom—a man of deep faith, loyalty and integrity. A victim of a cruel injustice in those times, Tom worked hard to keep his family together; not sold off separately, like chattel to the highest bidder. A man of his word, Tom obeyed his “owner” so long as the requirements did not compromise his faith and moral convictions. Closer examination shows the character as, I would say, a powerful role model for black people and others alike, even today. But, those who profited by the slave trade then wouldn’t have wanted THAT to get around. Stowe’s book posed a threat!
Ultimately, Tom chooses to die at the hands of a vicious slave master named Simon Legree, rather than betray two slave women who had escaped. In that, “Uncle Tom” proved one of the most Christ-like characters ever to grace the printed page. Uncle Tom exhibited colossal courage and character, as he laid down his life, rather than betray others!
The Bible says, “Scarcely for a righteous man will one die… but God demonstrated His own love toward us, in that while we were still slaves to sin, Christ died for us.” [Romans 5:7-8]
Moving South
In 1977, I moved with my three children to Nashville, Tennessee, and have since learned much about the south and its history. My Louisiana-born husband Philip and I love to read historical and other thought-provoking books together. A few years ago, we decided to tackle a rather large volume, titled Uncle Tom’s Cabin. As a southerner, and “baby boomer,” Philip remembers some of the harsh realities of bigotry that lingered long into the 20th century. For my part, originally from California, much of my life was relatively untouched by the true story of slavery in America. However, my husband and I agree, slavery was an ugly blight on our nation—one never to be repeated!
Sadly, I realize now, many black people believe they are still victims of “white supremacy.” Yet, I believe the greater majority of our society has come to recognize the equality and worth of all humans; all races. Many black Americans have risen to high and influential positions in our nation over the past decades; in the military, as high-ranking statesmen and women, as mayors of major cities; even as president of the United States. Many excel in business, medicine, science, media and journalism; in the arts, sports, and in academia, etc.
Are all of THOSE “Uncle Toms”… somehow “sold out,” as some black people were taught to believe?
I like to believe, rather, those have courageously overcome any victim-mentality passed on to them by more cynical blacks, or purposeful or political race baiters? Thankfully, many seem to have been able to look past the ignorance of any lingering prejudices in our society, and to make their way.
Uncle Tom’s Cabin | The Controversy
With Uncle Tom’s Cabin published in 1852, abolitionists and Northerners generally praised Harriet Beecher Stowe’s fictionalized, albeit candid depiction of the inhumane and often gruesome nature of the slave trade, and they were quick to confirm the truths Stowe had written about.
On the other side, PRO-SLAVERY advocates claimed that Stowe was “misrepresenting slavery and exaggerating the cruelty of the institution.” They said her book was “a distortion of the facts and a mutilation of the records, for the sake of giving substance to a scandalous fancy.” Interestingly, they didn’t accuse her of using false documentation. Rather, they claimed that, “The examples Stowe provided are the most extreme instances, meant to give the worst possible impression of the institution of slavery, and of the south.”
Nicer Slave Owners?
Were there those wealthy landowners who took in slaves to keep them from the auction blocks that demoralized many blacks for profit then? I suspect there were. I’ve found southerners to be, generally, kind, God-fearing and hospitable. I would hate to think that back then they were overcome by some collective evil spirit void of compassion for those black immigrants. But, how many, otherwise good, people in Germany looked the other way when the Nazis victimized the Jews during WW2?
Slavery is a monstrous thing, and Harriet Beecher Stowe was courageous and right to expose it as she did!
Other pro-slavery reaction to Stowe’s writing was more a critique of her character, than a critique of the work itself. One review, by George Holmes, questioned Stowe’s writing of the truth as a “lack of decency,” portraying “scenes of license and impurity, and ideas of loathsome depravity.” Holmes appealed to women, especially southern women, NOT to read Stowe’s writings. History proves that the so-called “decency” of many of those women and men of the time turned its back on other human beings who truly suffered, often the cruelest enslavement.
A Legitimate, Yet Unrecognized Hero
It seems there has always been, and may always be, those who would demean, oppress, enslave, even destroy others to further their own ambitions. Corrie ten Boom met head-on with that in her time!
On the other hand, I believe the power mongers of our world, and any of us, could learn much from the character of an “Uncle Tom.” Compassion for other human beings, as Jesus showed us during his time on earth, is what brings greatness to a person or a people. Tragically, those such as Adolph Hitler, the fictional Simon Legree character, and other Judases, are remembered only with disdain, if at all.
I highly recommend that everyone read “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”—especially black Americans. The truth is a great healer—our nation longs for it!
I’ll never forget that day, and that strange ride on the MTA bus line in Nashville!
“Do you believe in angels, Mom?” I remembered my young son’s question, as if it was not 40 years ago. My preoccupied response to his question had been a decided, “No!”
Personally, I had never seen an angel, and had placed the possibility of such a creature alongside Santa Claus and other childhood tales. It would be a long time before I read a scripture verse that says, “Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some have unwittingly entertained ANGELS.”
It was the summer of 1984 and I had been riding buses, seeking employment, since giving up on my pursuit of music stardom. Months earlier, faith had finally replaced misery for me, while visiting a large Nashville church. Carrying a huge chip on my shoulder, I’d gone there at what seemed the bottom of my life, arrogantly challenging God to, “Show yourself, if you even exist!”
Truth is, I should have been squashed like a bug on a windshield for my feisty approach. Word to the wise: Even if you don’t believe in God—unless you have all knowledge yourself, it’s wise to reconsider, should you decide to shake an ignorant fist in God’s face, as I did that day. Just saying!
However, I was stunned, to say the least, when the most gentle, albeit firm Voice actually spoke right out loud to me. I learned the meaning of grace that day.
My life situation wasn’t quick to change then, but my perspective on almost everything else had instantly, and I believe miraculously, done an about-face.
By now, I was sure I wouldn’t be at all surprised to meet up with a real live ANGEL.
Angels are people, too!
The alarm clock startled me at 5:30 that morning. It seemed only minutes before I had finally fallen asleep after a rough night of coughing and sneezing. A quick swipe at the frosted bedroom window with a rumpled tissue told me; at least, it had stopped raining. But, something was wrong—more wrong than that monster head cold!
Since hearing the Voice, most days I woke with a deep inner peace and a positive outlook. “Surely this will be the day I find a job!” But, this morning was different.
Trying to find a job without a car left me with one choice—the Nashville Metro Transit Authority (the “MTA”). I was thankful for that, but, unfortunately, I’d never gotten used to the smell of diesel fumes, for all the years I traveled and sang with Grand Ole Opry star “Whispering” Bill Anderson, on his Silver Eagle bus. But, that’s for another story!
The thought of bus fumes this morning only added to my nausea, but going back to sleep was not an option. I had a job interview at Belmont College (now Belmont University), and I needed a new income. The mirror told me it would take the “big guns”—stage makeup—to make myself look at all presentable.
“Nobody wants to hire an ex-roadie-turned-Jesus-freak, anyway!” I moaned. Numerous job applications had turned up nothing solid. No one seemed to understand—my life had changed so much, I didn’t plan to head out on the next show bus.
Still, the days had dragged on, and my faith was sagging for the first time since hearing Him say, “You’re going home, Susan!” How could I ever lose heart after that? Still, here I was. Poor, poor, pitiful me!
Prayers for Passengers
The interview at Belmont went well enough, and I got the job. But, my head pounded as I left the Belmont campus that day and boarded the #2 Belmont bus headed downtown.
The familiar publishing houses and recording studios flashed by the windows as the bus wound through Music Row toward Broadway, where I would have to wait for yet another bus to take me home, south of town.
Months before, I’d promised God that, as long as I had to ride the MTA, I would pray for every soul I rode with every day. I’d kept that promise, but this day I just wanted to be left alone; certain my conversation would be less than inspiring.
Forgetting to Entertain Strangers
I was seated in one of those sideways seats upfront, behind the driver, when the bus came to a stop and an elderly black woman got on. Toting a couple of huge plastic bags, she quickly flopped all of herself and her treasures onto the seat right by me.
“Only a few other people scattered about the bus, and she has to sit down right next to me,” I protested silently. “Okay, I’ll pray for her, God, but I don’t feel like talking to anybody today!”
There she was, right beside me now. The old woman’s chocolate eyes sparkled and smiled, almost as broadly as the toothy grin that exaggerated her otherwise small, weather-worn face. “What does she have to be so joyful about?” I wondered, behind a token smile. Before long, I would have the answer.
Trying not to stare, I noticed she wore several layers of old clothes, likely her entire wardrobe. Buttons strained to hold multiple sweaters together. Nothing matched anything else, from the brown knit hat that covered most of her salt and pepper hair, to the out-sized granny shoes on her feet. It was all I could do not to laugh, despite my resolve to bask in a pity party.
Stranger than Fiction
“Okay, God,” I finally capitulated, “If you want me to tell that lady about your Son, you need to give me an opening!” Surprisingly, the old street woman spoke first.
She was full of information about the history of “Music City.” Her thick brown knee socks sagged annoyingly. But, it only allowed her constantly animated hands one more lively gesture, as she gave the socks an occasional tug. She talked about the weather and the city’s plans to turn the old Union Station Depot on Broadway into a “fancy” hotel.
Surely, she would take a breath and I would be able to say something. Feebly, my nose still trying to run off my face, I tried to jump in a time or two, but I guess the most I was ever able to say was, “Well, I…” or “Yes, but…,” and she was off, onto another subject.
Don’t get me wrong, she certainly wasn’t boring or negative; in fact, she was downright funny! But, getting a word in edgewise, I decided, would take a sure act of God.
Botched Assignment
Finally, the bus came to another stop and this irritatingly joyous—but “lost” I was sure—bag lady jumped up energetically, to get off the bus.
“Well,” she said, wrestling comically with her bulging bags, “Nice talkin’ to ya!”
I smiled weakly and nodded, feeling like a complete failure for not being more forthright to tell her about Jesus, and that He loved her. She shot one last oversized grin at me; then, elbows in the air, she hauled her bundles toward the bus steps.
“I blew it, God, I’m sorry,” I sulked, wishing I was home in bed. “Now she’ll probably never know You!” A sympathetic smile, if not a big LOL, might have filled His face; shaking His head over my still infantile faith.
Then abruptly, half-way down the steps, that funny old woman turned and ambled nimbly back up toward me. Placing a dark, ancient hand on my knee, and searching my eyes with a depth and compassion I hadn’t noticed before, she said, “Don’t ever stop talking about Him!”
Then she leaned in closer and said again, “Don’t you EVER stop talking about Him!”
Touched by an Angel?
I must have turned angel-robe white! I had not been able to say a word to the old “woman,” about my faith or even myself, on that bus ride down Broadway.
I sat stunned as the bus door closed behind her, and she was gone. I mean, she was just gone! I looked both ways on the street. Gone!
It occurred to me then; there were no bundles in her hands when she had stepped back up the stairs. More amazing, I didn’t feel ill anymore either! A renewed joy crept up all over me as I realized what had just happened.
“Oh, dear God, that wonderful old street person was from You!” Tears flowed even as I wanted to laugh right out loud at God’s sense of humor, and the method He’d used to lift my spirits. Surely, He had sent an unlikely messenger to encourage me that day. I had to tell about Him, even if it sounded just plain crazy to the whole world.
I was more assured than ever that God’s word is true. “Angels ARE real,” I told my now-much-older son. “Sometimes they even ride the MTA!”
~ ~ ~
For He shall give His angels charge over you, to keep you in all your ways…Psalm 91:11
[From Susan Beyer’s book, Above “Reality”: Where Miracles Happen and Healing Begins – Available at Amazon.com]
References above: 1 Hebrews 13:2, 2 Matthew 7:7-8, 3 Lamentations 3:22-23
Going through my files today, I came across a copy of a letter I had written to Oprah Winfrey, in 2008. A great lady—talented, successful, savvy, and generous in so many ways! That was the day she gave cars to everyone in her studio audience! She had become one of the richest women in the world. However, getting that rare opportunity to watch an episode of her long-running talk show then, it struck me that she was terribly misguided about something more important than all she had ever gained in her career. Here is the basic letter I wrote to her that day, with all my heart… she may never have had opportunity to read it, due to the volume of “fan” mail she no doubt received then. Still, I pray the message got through to her heart.
Dear Oprah,
First, let me tell you I don’t get much chance to watch your program, as I work during the hours it airs; so this is not a fan letter. I am, of course, aware of who you are, guests you’ve had on your show and, more recently, your endorsement of our first black president. However, most alarming to me was your comments about how people get to heaven.
I write to you as a friend, Oprah; not a stone-thrower. I’m truly concerned. I watched a clip from your show that was sent to me via email a few days ago and thought to write you. I was particularly taken with what you said about being “unable to believe in a God who is jealous of us.” My heart went out to you on that one. Surely, you had not understood.
I was not a believer for the first 41 years of my life, thinking about such things… a God who could be “jealous” of me? …a God I must fear? …a God who would pick some “poor slob” (thinking of the man Jesus) and have him die the horrible death of crucifixion “for MY sins?” What kind of God was that to believe in, I wondered? Wasn’t He supposed to be a God of LOVE?
Because I also misunderstood back then, I passed on faith in Christ until February 26, 1984, when I’d had enough pain in the world as a battered wife, then single mother and professional singer. I took that pain to a large Nashville church, literally to confront God. In my ignorance, I went there to shake my fist in His “almighty” face. My attitude had me thinking, “Show yourself or get out of my face forever. I’m sick of hearing about what’s right and what’s wrong, concerning You—wars are fought over it…etc.
SO WHAT’S RIGHT?”
I can tell you, God spoke right out loud that day, scared the behoozits out me, and humbled me by many notches. He gave me to understand in an instant that He was God and I was not, but that He loved me beyond anything I could have imagined. He changed my perspective 180 degrees, and my entire life. I finally wrote all about it in the [enclosed] book, Above Reality: Where Miracles Happen and Healing Begins.
Now I understand what our “jealous” God is about, Oprah! He’s jealous FOR us, not jealous OF us—just as a parent is protective of a child and jealous for that’s child’s well-being in the face of any harm.
When God literally became a man (John 1, verses 1-4 and 14) many centuries ago, He was making a way for all of us to come to Him. In essence, He said: “I love you, but you cannot come to Me unless you believe ME. Heaven is for those! I lay down my life for you through the Person you will call My Son, Jesus Christ. Anyone who believes in what I have done in and through Him, will have his or her sins covered by His/My sacrificial blood, and I will forever after see that person as righteous—because of HIS righteousness. It’s by His GRACE one is saved, through FAITH in Jesus Christ.
No one comes to the Father, except…
Jesus came to tell us that “He and the Father are ONE,” that no one comes to the Father (God) except by Me.” Jesus was and is “jealous” for us. He wants to protect us from falling for the ungodly philosophies of this world system—the same old wiles Satan uses to beguile any of us to believe otherwise, just as he beguiled Eve and Adam in the garden.
If God were not “jealous” FOR you, He would not fight to save you. Heaven is only for those who believe Him—on His terms. Jesus is the TRUTH, the WAY; the LIFE that CAN save us. Those of us who have realized that truth are not righteous in ourselves, we only know for sure that HE is righteous, and is jealous for the love of ALL who would choose to be saved in His great love.
The FEAR I have for Him now is not that He is waiting somewhere ready to pounce or squash me if I err somehow. I FEAR Him now as I feared the loss of the love and respect of my parents or others I love—and yet MORE. He spoke into my world as surely as you speak to your viewing audience everyday; to assure me He loves me. That if I trust Him, over all the other voices and choices on this planet, He will lead me HOME. That journey has already been amazing, Oprah.
You are such a talented and gifted woman—liked and listened to by so many—more importantly, you are SO loved by God that He sent His Son to die for your sins, because He is jealous to keep you for Himself, out of the hands of the enemy ultimately. Truly!! I believe He has given you a great gift. It concerns me now, that you might unknowingly use that gift to lead many in the wrong direction—to destruction—and you with them.
I pray you will search deeper, deep into your heart, Oprah—and that you will know the truth that so many truly born-again believers (not merely “religious” people) can attest to. God loves you so much. May He bless you personally with clarity now. You really could help save the world—Matthew 28:18-20 – 18 Jesus came and spoke to them, saying, “All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth. 19 Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20 teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”
The world is hungry for truth, not misguided philosophy, Oprah. I believe you have been given an amazing platform to share it with so many. I pray you will.
Truly in His love and by His grace,
Susan Meredith Beyer
The Fan | Theater from the Heart, we call it! Recently, a talk show host asked, “Why did you think to set Corrie ten Boom’s story, The Hiding Place, to music?”
Others have also wondered, until they hear the songs from our play, “Ten Boom the Musical.”
In fact, I and my real-life sister and musical co-writer, Donna Marquean Griggs, pulled material from more than just that one book.
A Musical Family, for sure!
The ten Boom family was actually very musical, like the family in which Donna and I grew up! Many played musical instruments and sang. Corrie’s nephew, Peter van Woerden, was a master organist and music director for a Dutch Reformed church in The Netherlands.
The ten Boom’s were known for inviting musicians to their home, to “jam” on many evenings. Of course, it was mainly classical music. Musicians, coming and going, turned out to be a good cover for people in the Dutch Resistance. Some even carried instrument cases as they entered or left the house at odd hours. For a few years, the Ten Boom’s were able to hide and transport more than 800 Jewish people. And Nazi’s were none the wiser! Music turned out to be a life-saver for many.
The gift of a new radio was a treasure for “Papa” ten Boom, on the 100th Anniversary of the clock shop. It allowed their much-loved symphony music to “fill the house with joy.”
Donna and I have loved good theater all our lives, although from somewhat different perspectives. Actually, it made our partnership in the writing of the musical work even better. Of course, we grew up singing and loving music, but the theatrics—the “mechanics” of theater—was a challenge.
The Mechanic and The Fan
Of the two of us, I was always the “drama queen,” so to speak; hoping in childhood to become an actress. Donna was more level-headed, more interested in just enjoying the story and characters in good plays and movies. She was a true fan—one of those people who can make or break a good film or stage play!
While Donna was more apt to be moved emotionally by a performance, I tended to love the technical aspects. I was always into the acting, the script; how it all comes together, etc. Having been on the road as a performer many years, I had trouble just watching other performers without much critique. I admit MY perspective could ruin a good performance for someone just wanting to enjoy it!
As Donna and I came together to bring the script and songs to life, I valued and trusted her thoughts and perspectives, more and more. As we wrote, if the lines in the script or a song made her cry or laugh or get angry (in character), I knew we were on to something.
Fans and audiences should be touched emotionally, somehow; or something is lacking in a play or film! They are the necessary ingredient in a success or failure in The Arts.
So, in 1997, we two sisters, two best friends, brought our unique perspectives together. We had fun putting music to the miraculous story of Dutch evangelist and Nazi Holocaust survivor, Corrie ten Boom. And, it made for a wonderful stage play!
We were sharing an apartment in Nashville for many years, as we had shared a room at home as little girls growing up. Only now, we had our own “big girl” rooms and spaces. It also gave us plenty of time to work on the play.
A Jewish “Fiddler” and a Christian Holocaust Survivor
The play had been on my mind and heart for many years, since coming to faith in Jesus the Messiah in 1984. I had performed in “Fiddler On The Roof,” many years before, portraying Tzeitel, the eldest daughter. Also, I was blessed to choreograph the play for the Maryland Community Theater back east. Now I wondered, “Why can’t Corrie’s story be told in a musical play as big as “Fiddler?”
But, if the idea to write “Ten Boom” was there for years, the project remained mostly untouched until 2009. It was then we took actors into a recording studio to do a read-through of the initial script. The songs had been arranged and recorded, two years earlier.
Donna and I had sung harmonies with our older sister Judy and another friend, growing up. Later, we were able to perform in the wonderful, “Passion Play at Two Rivers” in Nashville, for over twenty years. We loved the first century costumes and the majestic choral arrangements. Mostly, we loved sharing the gospel (good news) with thousands, as we portrayed characters who walked with Jesus.
So, How Did We Write the Musical?
Today, when people ask how we wrote “Ten Boom the Musical,” I tell them this. “We took an amazing true story, some said was too sad or dramatic to become a musical. After all, was “Fiddler On The Roof” not also dramatic?” The Jews suffered much always. And what about musicals like “Les Miserables,” “West Side Story,” “The Color Purple,” even “Beauty and the Beast,” etc.? Sad things happened in those plays, too; but most ended on a high note.
“Ten Boom” was written to show the heart and joy of a woman and others who found victory, even in the darkest time in history.
I’m a “mechanic,” a singer/writer who loves to put words and pieces of a story puzzle together to touch hearts. Donna’s musical interests and instincts, along with her trusting heart helped make it all work right. You see, Donna is the perfect “fan”—someone who assesses the worth of a film, a play, a character, in a unique way.
Together, it all worked to make our play, “Ten Boom the Musical,” theater from the heart!
[Ten Boom the Musical shares the true and powerful story of Corrie ten Boom. To present this musical at your church or venue, contact us at 615-425-2652, 615-300-8591, or email us at [email protected]]
Dear Dad,
It’s been so long since that last day we talked and you’re on my heart today. I miss you, Dad!
Remember that day, Dad? You sat in that room, mostly silent and sober. I think about that day, and all the days and years that led up to it. It all seems so long ago now.
You were my hero, growing up. I wanted to be just like you!
I have often told people, “My dad could do just about anything! He was a child prodigy; a fine violinist, and a darned good fiddler! Dad could ballroom dance like a Fred Astaire, and swim like Johnny Weissmuller of “Tarzan” fame. He was also a wonderful sketch artist. My dad could be the funniest, most charismatic person in any room. He was, in fact, the most gifted person I ever knew”—but, maybe the most tragic back then.
That day, sitting next to your bed in that hospital room in Paris, Arkansas, it was so important to me to share what I did, even at the risk of upsetting you. And, by the pained look on your face, as I had to leave you that day, I guess it did. But, time was running out, Dad, and it seemed too late to talk through all those other things that might have helped heal our family years before.
This letter is not meant to open old wounds, Dad, but to say some things that might be healing for any of us, even now! I pray you finally understand and have forgiven. I’ve learned a lot about forgiveness since then. The world could use a lot of it, just now! I thought you would be proud to know, Donna and I even wrote a wonderful stage play about that.
“Ten Boom the Musical” is based on the powerful true story of a Dutch woman named Corrie ten Boom. She and her Christian family were sent to concentration camps, after hiding hundreds of Jews from the Nazis. But, the heart of the play is about what gave them the courage to endure. Joyful family memories and faith in God helped Corrie and her sister Betsie bring hope to others in those terrible times. Love and forgiveness helped them find victory, even there!
It was because of you, Dad, that I grew up to be a professional singer for many years, and a lover of music. I remember the pains you took, teaching me and my sisters to sing close harmonies, when we were about thirteen, ten and nine years old. Remember?
Doing dishes after dinner each night was more than a chore for Judy, Donna and me. We would always argue about who got to wash or dry. Judy always washed, of course, because she was the biggest, and could be pretty intimidating! :o) Donna would cry about that. I just got mad. So, the jousting went on each evening!
I remember the night you finally laid down the law! You came into the kitchen and sat the three of us down on that redwood bench by our picnic dinner table. “From now on, I don’t want to hear another argument! If you’re going to make a sound, it will only be to SING! Doe-Ra-Me,” you sang. That’s how it began.
Night after night, we practiced musical scales for what seemed hours. Sometimes to the point of tears—mostly ours, “Daddy, I’m too tired” or “I can’t do it.” For you, it must have been like pulling teeth, trying to teach three squirmy girls the discipline of learning and singing music. But, you persisted, as Judy sang the alto, I sang tenor, and our little sister Donna sang the lead.
Eventually, we were so proficient, all we wanted to DO was sing. You taught us mostly “barbershop quartet” songs—“Sweet Adeline,” “In the Evening By the Moonlight,” “Now is the Hour,” etc. No rock ‘n’ roll, as we might have wanted to sing in the fifties. But, we have to admit now, it really was a beautiful blend, those sister harmonies, and we had fun, after all. Thanks, Dad!
You had long-since given up your dreams of being a professional musician, needing to “get a real job and feed all of us.” You became an electrician then, and it seemed your own personal light went out. I know mom never encouraged your music, and even seemed a bit jealous of it, sadly. Not to blame her—the years had taken away the heart to pursue your dreams, only to mourn the loss of them.
Even so, because of you, three young girls also learned to dance and swim really well. You taught me to play a ukulele and encouraged my acting in school plays, and singing with school and Bay Area dance bands. We learned to fish off the pier in Monterey Bay, and to jump the waves and discover seashells on the beach in Carmel. We learned to catch crawfish with bacon, and swing out on a tree rope to drop into a swimming hole at the “big dam” near our riverside home in Boulder Creek. You made a pull-cart to fit our beloved Australian Shepherd, “Duchess,” so we could go for rides behind her. You taught us the ‘art’ of trimming a Christmas tree with cellophane rain; how to pitch a tent, and (at least for me) how to make the best darned pot of spaghetti, or sauerkraut and spareribs with dumplings, ever! I can even thank you now that you insisted we learn to mow and trim a lawn, and plant vegetables. That would come in handy later!
I so wanted to please you, Dad! I would like what you liked, and eat whatever you ate, even Limburger cheese on crackers. Although I never acquired a taste for beer, like you!
You were my hero, Dad! I guess that’s why the hurt came—the deep disappointment!
We were too young to understand “grown-up” things—like being in an unhappy marriage, too many bills and not enough money, or doing a 9-5 job you hated every day. I never understood why it was wrong to talk about “religion” or God at home, although Mom taught us that “Grace” dinner prayer, and let us go to a church now and then.
The hardest thing for us to understand was when you began to stay out late after work on so many Friday nights, only to come in, having drank up your paycheck at a local bar. After several volatile incidents on those nights, I remember the fear of seeing you come home then.
We never understood how you parked the car in our narrow garage; then barely making it through the back door, you would pass out on the laundry floor. On more sober nights, you could be jolly, wanting us to sing, or playing your violin—but, only for a while. Those were the nights we didn’t want to sing, but were afraid not to. Inevitably, you and Mom would fight, and the sometimes cruel name-calling came from both of you. You would turn into a raging bull then, and we all feared how it might end.
Remember, THAT night, Dad? The night a distraught friend of yours named “Bill” had gone home drunk one night, and threatened to kill himself. His wife called you to “come help,” and for some reason you took all our family there with you. I was only seven then, and we were all traumatized when Bill shot himself right in front of us. I wondered, would you do that, too, on one of those Friday nights?
Those were scary times for us. Sad times, when we also learned about shame! Children of alcoholics suffer lasting pain. But, surely you knew that, Dad, being the victim of an alcoholic step-father when you were a small boy.
Do you even remember those nights when you would angrily stand the three of us girls in a row like soldiers, commanding us to, “Stand at attention, and pull in your stomach,” sometimes punching us there! But, the sometimes crude accusations and threats to three young, still virgin girls was the most painful part of it. “Oh, Daddy”… we would cry, fearfully. Maybe you were just mustering up courage to take control of your life. But, alcohol was never the answer, Dad.
The family music had stopped for us then!
When your anger subsided on those nights, and you finally ceased troubling us, you would begin to cry and shoo us out of your sight. Later, hearing you cry alone in the living room, I remember going out to console you, if only with a hug. I was too young to make sense of things you cried out about then. How you had lost your first wife, the real “love of your life.” How you missed her and your two now older children back in Pennsylvania. You missed playing your violin with all those orchestras. Your dreams were all gone.
You never stopped grieving over those losses, and even more so as the years went by. That was a lot of grief for young girls to bear, too, Dad! Getting it all mixed up then, I felt more sadness for you than I did for Mom, who must have hurt deeply all those years, hearing you call another, “the love of your life.”
I wondered, Dad, why you never went back to see your first family, to resolve any of that—why you couldn’t see you were driving away any of us. And why hadn’t you and Mom sought help somewhere—or, more importantly, given it to God?
It’s been years since I thought of these things, Dad. So why do I say them now, even for others to read? Is it that I haven’t forgiven you? No, Dad—truly I have! That’s what I want you to understand now. And I pray you’ve forgiven me for any pain I ever caused you in return.
Maybe someone out there can relate to this now. And maybe it will help them resolve some of their own painful memories; and forgive also. Addictions and dysfunction in families just continues, unless or until someone decides to make it stop. For me, Dad, Someone did!
That day, as you sat so silent in that hospital room, I couldn’t know it would be the last time we would see you. The doctor told us you might have a few months at best, because of the cancer.
I was desperate that day to share the one thing I finally knew for certain, that had changed everything for me and so many others. I prayed it would dispel all your pain, also.
Remember, Dad? It was 1984 when my own desperation had come to a head, after years of broken relationships, broken promises and my own failed dreams. My children were growing away from me, as yours did years before. Feeling “old” then, I also felt betrayed by other “saviors” in my life—even my music. The “raging bull” inside of me, found me in a large Nashville church, silent but angrily daring God to “show” himself, if he even existed.
And you know what, Dad? He did that!
Sitting there in a church pew—my defenses high; pain bottled up to where I couldn’t even cry anymore—the Lord spoke right out loud to me. “You’re going home, Susan.” Twice, He said it! There were not enough tissues to mop up the tears then, over years of confused beliefs and memories, losses and pain. It was a Voice that said I was truly LOVED, even so. Tears turned to joy then. I’d never known that!
I thought how He could dry your tears, Dad, if you could only know how much He loved you, too. I called you so many times, those first months after I heard His voice. It must have frustrated the fire out of you, but I had to try to make you understand. “The confusion is gone, Dad” I cried. “God is real, and He moved time and space to show me!”
I remember calling you one day, and you saying angrily, “I thought you were going to make something of yourself and now you’ve given it all up for religion!”
No, not religion, Dad, but I finally believed God more than any person! Your words that would have hurt me not so long before only made me love you more!
As physically strong as you were, you had often been like a needy, weeping child, trying to do life by your boot straps, yet never seeking what could have changed your life then—all our lives. That was the real tragedy.
That day by your bed, I did my best to tell you all the wonderful things I was learning, that you could know, too. I was happy when you said “yes” to letting me pray with you then. As Donna and I turned to go, that last day, the look on your face was anything but joyful. But, both of us believed that God would somehow make up the difference—“replacing the years the locusts had eaten” of our lives. Less than a week later, the call came that you were gone. I cried that day, too, Dad, but was comforted to believe with all my heart, you were in God’s hands now, and we would see you again one day.
There’s a verse in the Bible that says, “Above all, love one another deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.” (I Peter 4:8). I finally learned what that verse means, Dad.
You’re not here to see it, but the world seems to have gone crazy these days! So many people’s hearts have become cold, unloving, unforgiving, and saddest of all, unbelieving in the only One able to set any of us free from our heartaches—our sins.
That’s why Donna and I set Corrie ten Boom’s story to music, Dad; to help others see the power of love and forgiveness. If anyone should have been bitter, seeing hate-filled people kill millions of others in World War 2, including many of her family, it was Corrie. But, she chose to love, not hate—her heart and the ministries of her life would always be toward peace. She learned to find joy in others, and to forgive—even a Nazi!
I can only imagine a world where everyone is like that. I’m thankful to believe you’re experiencing that first-hand, even now!
I love you always, Dad.
Susan
[Photo above, L to R: LaRue Parker “Dad” Croop, Susan Beyer, Judy Hunter, our dog Duchess, Donna Griggs, and our mother Mary Gribben Croop, c. 1948]
[Ten Boom the Musical shares the true and powerful story of Corrie ten Boom. To present this musical at your church or venue, contact us at 615-425-2652, 615-300-8591, or email us at [email protected]]
Wonder Woman, the latest in a string of blockbuster, superhero-saves-the-world films, is a visual feast for DC, Marvel and other comic book fans out there. My husband Philip and I grew up when those “funny books” (as some called them) were in every kid’s hands. I had a drawer-full at home. I loved “superheroes” back then!
So, remembering those times, also the 1970’s TV series starring Linda Carter, Philip and I went to see the new film.
What does this have to do with Corrie ten Boom, you ask?? I believe, if you will read and not just scan my “comparison of heroes” here, it will all come clear to you!
So, please read on…
Movies are a powerful medium for changing hearts and minds, as many would agree who saw “The Hiding Place” film years ago. What we allow ourselves to be influenced by, good or otherwise, generally determines our future!
Being a life-long movie buff, I just enjoyed the film for what it was; a fanciful, action-packed romp, pitting good against evil, allowing the good guys to win the day. I like that! For all the over-the-top high jinks and mythological blabber in the film, actress Gal Gadot is the quintessential “Wonder Woman.” Moreover, the film actually has some worthy messages.
My sister Donna Griggs saw the film and reported back. “Wow! I saw all kinds of wonderful things about relationships… unselfish sacrifice. Strength… love overcomes evil!”
I remember loving the character, especially when I was too young to understand any of the political or social implications. It seems now Wonder Woman has come full-circle since her inception in the early 1940’s!
The Wonder Woman Character
According to Wikipedia, the fictitious Wonder Woman character was created by American writer and psychologist, William Moulton Marston, with artist Harry G. Peter. The character first appeared in All Star Comics in October 1941. Caution: Marston drew a great deal of inspiration from early feminists, and especially from birth control pioneer, Margaret Sanger. She was founder of the American Birth Control League, later known as Planned Parenthood. As the Feminist Movement grew, in 1971 Gloria Steinem placed her concept of Wonder Woman on the cover of Ms. magazine.
Identified in the film as “Princess Diana of Themyscira, Daughter of Hippolyta,” Wonder Woman is also known (in her street clothes) as Diana Prince. In the Carter series, Diana identified herself as “the daughter of Isis.” Hmm!
As the film begins, Diana is introduced as a feisty little girl with a secret not yet known to her. She’s the only child on an isolated island of warrior women (not one man), known as Amazons. Hiding from the evil war god Ares, these female descendants of mythical gods have tired of war—and MEN, whom they blame solely for all the world’s ills.
Wouldn’t you know, along comes a World War I pilot, played by actor Chris Pine [latest Captain Kirk, Star Trek] who crash-lands into the sea near Paradise Island, later proving to Diana’s heart that, “Love is the only thing that can defeat evil.”
Ah, now we’re getting somewhere!
Maturity Changes Our Heroes
Having added some years since my “funny book” days, plus a more realistic outlook on heroes, and “gods”… I had to wonder…
Why is it that human beings (especially us women), ever-longing for love and rescue from life’s enemies, turn to fanciful “heroes” for comfort? Yet so many reject the very real Father God, the Eternal Superhero, who created and loves us! To all our detriment, many choose instead to believe fiction over Truth. Yet, His Book assures us that, GOD is love!
In ancient times, when mankind began to multiply on the earth, we soon proved to have a fatal flaw—PRIDE. Created in God’s image, and provided for in every way, we decided we could just “take it from here.” We could be our own persons—no thanks to or respect for the One who gave us the earth under our feet. By the way, He also gave us the air we breathe, and the promise of the love and covering we innately desire.
Enter Abraham, a nomadic leader, long since venerated for proving himself true to God. Later came Moses, born a Hebrew, but raised as an Egyptian prince. At age 80, he was chosen of God to deliver the Hebrew people out of Egypt and slavery. Great men of faith!
But Abraham and Moses were not Superheroes, just men who obeyed the One they recognized as the one true God!
Wonder Woman and Other “Heroes”
The Diana Prince character is portrayed as empathetic, courageous, loyal, compassionate! Not to mention, able to throw tanks at will! Personally, I liked Diana, but then, I liked Superman, Captain America, Tarzan, and Mighty Mouse. I also liked some less-superhuman characters such as Atticus Finch, Indiana Jones, and, oh yes, “Uncle Tom” (often given a bad rap). ALL heroes, and yes, all MALE figures, but surely fictitious!
Someone wrote, “A hero can be just about anyone, from a steadfast politician working to secure world peace, to an average man or woman who demonstrates remarkable bravery and giving.” I’ve been blessed to meet many of those—soldiers, cancer survivors, foster parents, teachers, firemen, police officers, pastors, stay-at-home moms, over-comers, truth-tellers…
History lists some extraordinary people who were or are heroes to any of us. Sadly, for many, those “heroes” have replaced any veneration or regard for the one true God. Could any of those help us reach heaven?
More “Wonder Women”
My personal list of heroic, real life women includes: Mary, Ruth and Esther of scripture. Also, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Anne Sullivan, Helen Keller, Harriet Tubman, Margaret Thatcher, Gladys Aylward, Rosa Parks, and Madame Curie.
But, one special woman stands out for me… Corrie ten Boom, a true wonder woman, yet no Superhero… just a woman who loved and trusted God!
Raised in a Christian home, Corrie ten Boom was never known to lie, she never betrayed a friend or a neighbor. She was also fiercely loyal to her family. She never married, yet taught many children and youth how to live uprightly and courageously. Risking their lives, she and her family rescued and hid Jewish people during the Nazi occupation of Holland. For that, they were later arrested and taken to concentration camps. Corrie survived three such camps, in the meantime sharing the hope and love of Christ the Savior with many. She wrote many books and visited 60 countries, telling virtually millions that, “No pit is so deep that God’s love is not deeper still.” Corrie was a true and humble woman of faith, who proved herself heroic in the face of great evil during WW2.
Corrie, Wonder Woman and Mere Mortals
I wonder what Corrie would have thought of the “Wonder Woman” character, who was conceived in Corrie’s era (1930s-40s). Corrie—certainly not a “feminist,” nor one who would have espoused Margaret Sanger’s views—was a woman of real character and strength. She also extended true compassion and grace to others different than herself.
My guess is, Corrie would have liked “Diana” for the courageous character she was, if only a writer’s fanciful creation. And, I’d like to think even a Wonder Woman would have loved and been humbled by the powerful faith of a very real woman named Corrie ten Boom, who always gave the Lord any credit for her victories and accomplishments.
The First Commandment says, “I AM the Lord your God, you shall have no other gods before Me.” Not even “Superheros”! And Christ Jesus—the Word, and Almighty God in the flesh [John 1:1-4, 14]—revealed, “I AM the Way, the Truth and the Life; no one comes to the Father except through Me.”
Superheros are characteristically “immortal.” Not so, human beings! When I was younger, I came out of many a film visibly moved, inspired, disappointed, exhilarated, even depressed, at times. That’s what movies are meant to do—touch us where we live! Superheros give fans the sense that they can “fly,” when life may seem to be holding them down. However, trusting our emotions and romantic notions to fictitious or even real-life “heroes” can be problematic, if not fatal.
TRUTH IS, we mere mortals must find our hope and assurance in the Truth. After all, the Lord actually DID come to save the world!
As Corrie would say, He’s the one who died and rose again that, trusting Him, we might also.
Now THAT’s a Superhero!
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[Ten Boom the Musical shares the true and powerful story of Corrie ten Boom. To present this musical at your church or venue, contact us at 615-425-2652, 615-300-8591, or email us at [email protected]]