Perfectionism is cowardly, not brave.
On a happy outing with D and our children, somewhere on the West Coast, 1976
It’s now 1975-76. I’m in the last year of my master’s program at Fuller Seminary. D and I were happily married when we arrived at seminary. In fact, my happiest memories up to then are about my relationship with D. A little conflict is to be expected, right? Read the rest of this entry »
California clothes in Savannah, GA, summer 1974-75. Photo taken by my father.
Just reading Part 15 made me wince. I’m in a no-win cycle. From my point of view in 1974-75, I had three choices as D’s wife: Read the rest of this entry »
before my eyes
they swim
in salt water
old photos
fresh with memories
I blink
reluctant to move
my eyes
tears water
my face
***
Christmas stockings in Altadena Read the rest of this entry »
I don’t remember exactly when the cracks started to show. It was sometime in 1974 and 1975, my second and third years as a student at Fuller Seminary. Little things began piling up that I thought D and I would never have to deal with.
Nothing spectacular. Just the Read the rest of this entry »
Florida vacation in 1974 to visit D’s family, following our first year in seminary
Finally! Back to seminary days! This post is about the most important skill I learned at Fuller Seminary. I didn’t expect it to be life-changing. But first, an important digression.
Several years ago Read the rest of this entry »
Mom and Sisters #1, 2 and 3, Easter Sunday 1952 in Savannah. I’m on the right.
Dear Mom,
I miss you today. When I was growing up, I was pretty tight-lipped. I think it was my way of having some privacy. Still, there are things we never talked about that are on my mind today. Probably because I’ve been writing about going to seminary, and what Dad seemed to think about my decision.
Even though you didn’t say much about this, I knew you were proud of me and I never wondered whether I had your blessing. From the beginning you wanted to know about what I was studying, even though I didn’t always want to talk about it.
I can’t thank you enough for showing an interest in my studies and writing, even though you may not have agreed with everything I wrote. I often wonder whether you wanted to go back for more education. You would have been an outstanding student.
As a child and teenager I was proud that you and Dad each had the equivalent of college degrees. Most of my friends’ parents did not. I also knew, though I never said so, that you had a different kind of intelligence and creativity than Dad had. You were quick, eager to learn, and appreciative of help.
I still remember your interest in the music I practised for Mrs. Hanks. Especially the more advanced pieces. You commented about several of them, and suggested you might someday learn to play them. After I left for college, you bought a few classical music books and started working on your favorite pieces.
When I came home to visit I often heard you playing ‘my’ pieces on the piano. I was proud of the way you played the piano. Still, I resented hearing you play ‘my’ pieces. It felt intrusive, and a bit like you were being a copy-cat.
I know that’s neither fair nor kind. It was how I felt back then. Today I believe you were looking for something missing in your life. It couldn’t have been easy to stop and play the piano just for yourself when we all needed attention.
I wonder what you wanted from me that I could have given you. I also wonder what dreams you gave up when you married Dad. Was one of them a dream about studying music or art?
As for sewing, you were the best! I never felt ashamed of anything you made for me. I was always proud to say my Mom made this dress or that skirt. I think Dad took the photo at the top on Easter Sunday. Possibly 1952? Sister #4 hadn’t yet arrived.
Here another favorite photo. It’s a bit grainy, but I still love it. Is this also an Easter dress? I’m pretty sure you made it. In any case, I felt totally feminine wearing it! I like seeing Sister #4 looking up at me. I think this was in 1956/57. I was 13 or 14; Sister #4 was 3 or 4.
If you’d been living in California with me in the 1970s, I’d like to think you would have gone to seminary, too. And maybe even joined the women’s movement! I can dream, can’t I? Actually, I don’t think that’s a far-fetched dream at all.
Love and hugs,
Elouise♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 January 2016
Photo credit: JERenich
Photos taken in the front yard of our first home in Savannah
Summer 1972 – Columbia, South Carolina, 1 year before we began seminary
It’s early spring 1973. My father’s response is unexpected and disheartening. I’ve just told him I’m going to go to seminary to earn a degree in Bible and Theology. I’m not sure how he’ll take this news. I’m nearly 30 years old, and have been married to D for over 7 years. We have two young children not yet in school.
My father looks at me without saying anything right away. Then he tells me it doesn’t matter what he thinks. I’m now married to D. If D thinks my going to seminary is appropriate, that’s all that matters. It’s none of his business.
No congratulations. No sign of being proud of his eldest daughter. No interest in why I would do such a thing as this. Not even a raised eyebrow. Just an emotionally flat inability to engage with me about this.
My mind returns often to his response. He seems finished with me. Especially when it comes to decisions I make about my future. From my side, I have a closet full of unfinished business to which I now add another item.
Every time I visited him while I was in seminary he wanted to know what I was studying. Sometimes he asked me what I was learning, or what was new in this or that area of theology.
Yet even then, he didn’t seem interested in my responses or my opinions. Sometimes he let me know he already knew all about that. Sometimes he listened long enough to find a hook, a way of changing the subject to what he already knew or had done or thought about something.
I often wondered how he would relate to me if I were his first-born son. Would he feel ambivalent about his son going to seminary? Of course not. But that wasn’t reality. I was.
And then there was D. My father was overtly happy and excited about D going to seminary. It was painful to watch him interacting with D. He was always full of questions about what D was studying, theological issues, and what D’s plans were for the future. In many ways, D functioned as his surrogate eldest son.
It was even more painful listening to him talk about D with others. When it came to me, he didn’t seem to know what to say. Was I disgracing him in some way? He never said so. But his silence spoke volumes. I assumed it was about his comfort level with what I was or was not doing.
Today I know it wasn’t about me. It was about my father. Perhaps I triggered shame in him. Especially shame about his unfulfilled dream of getting a seminary degree.
A few years later, before I’d finished seminary studies, my father admitted he felt jealous of me. I was doing what he always wanted to do. I was studying theology at a seminary. For a degree.
My father never gave me his blessing, before or after I married. The pattern continued throughout my seminary studies, even though he enjoyed the way my studies gave him a way to talk about his studies and what he already knew and often assumed I did not. Always in teaching mode, of course. I was still his little girl ‘student.’
Back then I didn’t know how to interrupt my father or ask him tough questions. I didn’t know my own voice. It was years before I was ready to have an adult conversation with him.
Though I didn’t realize it then, my seminary studies began growing me up as a theologian and as an adult woman. One course at a time, one distressing or exhilarating experience at a time, one risk at a time, one discovery at a time.
To be continued….
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 25 January 2016
Photo credit: DAFraser (and his tripod), dress and tie by Elouise
Time for a bit of end-of-the-week fun! Our son and daughter are in the den of our Altadena home. Don’t miss the double door knobs. One worked and one didn’t; it was that way when we moved in.
It looks like Son is deep in thought. I don’t know what that red thing is in front of his mouth. I think he has Read the rest of this entry »
I’m looking at a 58-page single-spaced paper completed in summer 1974. Authors: D and Elouise. Title: A Biblical View of Women.
Immediate thoughts:
Telling the Truth 