PSALM 23
The Lord is my shepherd and I shall not want.
He leads me beside quite water
and restores my soul.
The Testimony of Karin Huels
Written by Karin Huels
On May 1, 2017
Testimony
“There is only one happiness in life to love and be loved.” George Sand wrote in 1862.
Do you love somebody? Most of us do! Do you love yourself? Or do you find it difficult to even like yourself?
Have lies and misconceptions crept into your life and taken away the love for yourself? Then you are not alone. I was born in Hamburg, Germany during the War, second not first. I am not that old. Hamburg was heavily bombed.
Our government- Hitler- leased us land to erect emergency housing on. Wasn’t that kind of him? Nothing fancy, no bathroom, building material was very limited. On Saturday night, that old tin tub would be brought out. That was scrub night. Boy, you should have seen that bath water after three kids.
My father built submarines during the war. He was mostly gone and when he was home, he slept. Food was very scarce. We did anything for it. My father and a neighbor stole a small pig rom a farmer once, only to find it stolen the next day. The local policeman did it.
Mom looked after the kids, the house, and the rather large garden which was a blessing. It meant food, it also meant a lot of work. She had chickens, rabbits and a dog to watch the chickens, rabbits, fruits and vegetables so that they would not be stolen. Then Mom had to watch the dog and the cat, so that they would not end up in someone’s soup pot. Oh yes, we had a cat as well, for the mice. We had those too.
Mom would knit and sew, making out of old something new. She actually took the Fuehrer’s flag and made a dress out it for me. That was treason and she could have landed in a concentration camp.
There was no laughter in our house, but lots of grief. I suppose that was true with most families at that time in Germany. Mom had lost her three brothers to the war and her mother to cancer shortly after.
Kids were to be seen and not heard. Affection was not shown, praise not given. Our house was a very quiet house. But I had my favorite people. There was my younger brother -- Uwe. Uwe was my best friend. We would play dolls together, only he insisted on being a doctor. Then he proceeded to cut open the belly of my doll and remove the inside. I didn’t appreciate that at all.
Uwe was told that he was cute with his blond curly hair and blue eyes. I even thought so. I was told I was like my father -- too quiet. I knew that was not a compliment.
My cousin Helmut was another important person in life. He was much, much older than I -- 4 years. And He knew everything. Helmut knew there was no St. Nicholas and no baby Jesus. He also knew that a short pencil worked better than a long one. Helmut was quite willing to exchange his short one for my long one. But you know it did not work any better.
The person I loved the most was my grandfather -- Opa -- as we called him. He was a tall, stately person, who always had a candy in his pocket and a joke to tell. Opa said the Fuehrer was crazy but Oma -- my grandmother -- said that if Opa did not stop talking that way the police would come and take him away.
Oma was the opposite to Opa. She was petite, never smiled and talked very little, except when she talked about the Fuehrer. She really liked him. But of course, when he shot himself she always knew that he was a coward. Oma always had her broom ready and it wasn’t for sweeping. If Opa said or did something that displeased her, he got it with the broom.
On my grandparents 50th wedding anniversary, a reporter from the local newspaper, came to ask Opa what he would like to do after 50 years of marriage? Opa replied, “Get a divorce.” Well, out came that broom. That was not the right answer. Of course, we kids thought it was funny.
My brother Uwe was allowed to eat lunch at my grandparents’ house and he even got paid for eating. Can you imagine? I would have done it gladly for nothing. So I asked my mother about it, and she told me that Oma thought boys were more important.
With great anticipation I started school. I was really proud of myself I could write my name and even do my older brother’s math homework.
School was going to be fun. That anticipation soon turned into fear. I could not please my teacher, no matter how hard I tried or how good my work was. He would ridicule me before the whole class, telling everyone that I was stupid, ugly and good for nothing. I believed him. And so did the other kids in my class. I became very withdrawn. Unfortunately he stayed with the class each successive year. By age 10 I became ill, I could not fight him any longer. I was home for a long time and when I returned to school I got the best teacher. He would encourage me to do my best and for him I did.
Christmas was the happiest time of the year, at our house. Christmas eve, the candles were lit on the Christmas tree -- real wax candles which we made ourselves. Mom would tell us stories about St. Nicholas who brought gifts, when he had any. Mom would also tell us about the baby Jesus who was just as poor as we were. He was born in a stable. But of course, I knew these were fairy tales. Helmut had told me all about it.
My father did not believe in God, that was all nonsense. Neither did my grandparents. My mother had turned away from God. She could not justify loving God with all her suffering. There wasn’t even a church in our neighborhood.
I always longed for a father to whom I could go when I was hurting or when I was tired. A father who would protect me and teach me many things. Now I know that already then I had a longing for God, the perfect father.
Oh yes, my mother had told us kids about the man in the sky, called God, who sees everything. Do you know about him? If you don’t behave he will punish you. Many a time, when I was outside, I would look up in the sky to get a glimpse of him, but I never did. I got run over by a bicycle though.
From then on I looked down. Never mind that man up there, that was another fairy tale.
MY family immigrated to Canada when I was 13. Although it was not easy, I was glad. Here was hope. We had been told by the Canadian officials, that if we worked hard we could become a somebody. I was determined to become a somebody, who would be noticed, to show that teacher that I was not stupid and my grandmother that I was as good as any boy
My father had gone ahead to find work and a place to live for us. He had found a three room flat. Three teenagers and Germans weren’t too popular in 1954. Believe me. D.P.s and square heads were not names of endearment.
I hated sleeping beside that old fridge. I slept in the kitchen. It kept me awake all night. In Germany at least we did not have a fridge. But we did have a bathroom here, which we shared with 10 other people. We worked on the number system -- take a number --when yours come up it was your turn. The landlord actually told us when to take a bath and that was not often.
My English language skill consisted of “Old McDonald had a farm. ”Believe me, it’s kind of limiting in a conversation. -- “How are you?.” -- “Old”.
Here the teachers were very kind. They worked with me and in only a few months I had learned a fair amount of English. Now that I understood the language, I was able to help my parents. I had become important to them. I could earn their love. This started a trend that would be a way of life for me, to earn people’s love. That someone might love me for myself never entered my mind.
At age 18, I met my husband-to-be. I was very much in love with him. He desired a family and a home. I set out to earn his love as well.
We had three sons within five years. No sooner were my babies born that I went back to work, helping with our finances. This stress and the stress of my childhood, had become too much for my body to handle and I became ill. Stress seems to do that, doesn ’t it?
In the first 10 years of my marriage, I was hospitalized once a year. I used to think of it as my vacation, just lying around and being served. Oh, the life of leisure. My husband always says, “When God handed out health, you were at the end of the line. But at the beginning, when he handed out the hearts.” Isn ’t that a nice compliment? Well good health would be nice too.
When I was 22, my father died. He had a massive stroke, I sat with him and held his hand until he died, During that time he press my hand once, I like to believe that he finally said that he loved me.
At age 33, I had to quit working, I needed a rest. Three lively boys, an over worked husband, a widowed mother who need her daily share of companionship, a hectic job and never ending household shores was too much. It was the first time, in many years, that I had some time to myself I started to think about life, Is this it? To be born, to grow up, pay bills have children so they can do the same and then grow old and die? Why do we put children into this world -- where we can’t even teach them to be decent people?
I started talking to God, or to myself I really didn’t know which one. “God If you are REALLY there then I want to know you and why we are here?” Now as you know; I never attended Sunday School, I knew no one who was a Christian, and nobody had ever spoken to me about Jesus. Jesus to me was this cute little baby at Christmas who hung on the cross by Easter. Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny were his companions.
I tried reading the Bible but I understood it just as well as I did Shakespeare in school with one month of English. It was all mumble-jumble to me. That left no doubt in my mind - I had to go to church to learn how to read it. But which one? That was the big question. I was very much afraid of getting into a cult, the Moonies or something like that. It was in the 70th.
There was this Bible Church, well that was what its name said, in our neighborhood. To make sure that they were teaching the right stuff, and I really knew what that was, I phoned up the church office and asked to speak to someone in authority. You know, if possible God Himself but He was not available right then.
They sent the nicest couple, who very patiently answered all my deep questions. Such as, “Do the ladies wear hats at church?” I will always remember their diplomatic answer. “Some do but other prefer not to.” That really told me a lot, didn’t it?
For the first two years, I went to Sunday school only. I wanted to learn to read the Bible, not to be preached at, I wanted to make up my own mind about God.
There they were studying the book of John -- “For God so loved the world (Karin) that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever (Karin) believes in him she shall not perish but have eternal life.” John3:16
I did not need to earn God’s love. I asked Jesus Christ to come into my life. Now my sins had been forgiven and I had received eternal life. My life would continue after death. All that struggle would not be in vain. Isn’t that great?
I was a very moral person, the kind who never sins. You know, Miss Goody-too-shoo, you have met her? I felt God did not need to forgive my sins, but I thanked him anyway. The Bible says, “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. ” -Romans 3:23. It took me a long time to become aware of my sins. That little white lie, that’s a sins. And I won’t tell you about my other sins, that is between God and I.
I couldn’t wait to tell my cousin, Helmut, that he was not only wrong about the pencil but also about Jesus. He didn’t know everything after all. Everything went well for the next five years and then I became ill again. I really enjoyed those first years as a Christian, but unfortunately I Had put very little effort into my relationship with God.
It took five frustrating years for the doctors to diagnose this illness. During that time, I prayed for healing or at least for God to give the doctors wisdom concerning this illness. When nothing happened quickly, I turned away from God. God did not love me. It was all a lie. But I was so lonely during that time that I returned to him. I needed Christ’s love in my life.
As this illness progressed -- Parkinson, I let it rule my life. I could only see where the Parkinson was going -- that I would become completely disable, not even be able to talk, just sitting there and vegetating, shaking all the time, never resting. It’s very exhausting. I did not like what I was or what I was becoming.
Suicide is not unheard of in Parkinsonians. I had even talked to my Neurologist about it, and he agreed with me that we have the right to choose. I had been going into complete body muscle spasm, a side effect of the medication that I needed to take. It was very painful.
One day in June of 1989, the tremor was especially strong. My only joy was meeting my best friends for lunch, I went in spite of the tremor. I came home very exhausted
Please take my advice, never talk to yourself -- you get the worst answers. Talk to God instead. I said to myself: “is this the next thing that I have to give up? Have I not given up so much already? My dream of going back to college and having a career. To become a somebody, to show that teacher that he was all wrong about me. ” That was only one of several things of course. Little did I know that I already was a somebody.
I saw my husband off to work. And then I was going to rest, rest forever with 50 Valiums. “I know this is not from you but I can ’t go on, ” I told God.
I know some people call this a coincidence, but I call it God’s working. It is too perfect. A friend came to visit me at that precise moment. She had felt this need to come and see me. She really was making a nuisance of herself. I wanted rest and not company. She prayed for me. The tremor that would not stop all day stopped.
The very next morning, a book arrived in the mail from a friend in Hawaii ‘Gold in the Making ’ by Ron Lee Davis. With the book came a note saying, “Karin, God put it upon my heart to send you this book.”
It is amazing, isn’t it? I was not the only one who was suffering, the book showed me, there is so much of it in this world.
By this time my husband started going out with his friends, just once in a while. I became afraid that he would meet someone healthy. Someone who would be a helper and not a burden to him. I had lost all self-esteem. I had become a useless person in my mind. Just as my old teacher had said
After many years of reading the Bible and going to church, I finally realized that something was drastically wrong, and it wasn’t the illness. It was the way I saw myself. Sometimes God has a difficult time getting through to me. I can just see him shouting down at me, “Karin, are you listening?”
God loves me so much that he sent his son to die for me. Would you do that? I sure wouldn’t and I have three sons. Jesus went to the cross for my sins, was buried and raised on the third day. Why could I not accept God’s love? Why could I not accept myself for who I am? God created me and he doesn’t make mistakes.
When I realized what I had been doing all these years, I asked God to forgive me and to help me to change. I had held unto that pain that a bitter, old man had inflicted upon a little girl. I still believe those lies that the teacher had taught me and not the truth from God.
To my surprise, not only God loves me but my husband loves me as well. It is nice to finally believe that about my husband after 30 years of marriage. And I don’t need to earn their love, it is free. God has blessed me richly with the love of my family and friends.
I had two more operations in I 991. God might never heal me in this life, but I know he is doing good work in me. -- “Gold in the Making.”
My mother, who had been living with us for six years received Jesus Christ into her heart, six months before she went home to be with Him. Now Mom is at peace with our Lord, and I am at peace in the knowledge that she is with him. I will see her again.
God has been with me from the very beginning of my life. He knew me before I was born. He loves me and guides me into all truth. He shall be with me for eternity. He is my heavenly Father, the one I longed for as a child.
Do you know the one who loves you just the way you are? The one who created you the way you are? Jesus says, “I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door. I will come in. ” -- Rev. 3:20
If you like to invite Jesus into your life, (Believe me, or better yet believe God, this is something that you will never regret) then pray with me or on your own.
Dear Lord Jesus, I open the door of my heart to you, please come into my life. Forgive my sins, as I forgive those who sinned against me. Thank you, Lord Jesus. For loving me so that you died on the cross for me. Thank you giving me eternal life.
Amen
The Conclusion - May 1,2017
I have been fighting this monster for 35 years now. I have gone through all the mountains and valleys. I have taken 1,000s of pills and under gone every procedure in the fight against this terrible illness, an illness that has taken away all my functions and mobility.
I was blessed that God gave me a slow progressing .illness, as it got worse I always depended on God. He had always open a door for me to keep on fighting. In 1989, “The Deep Brain Stimulation” (DBS) was just in the research stage when I signed up for it. I was patient number 13, not a lucky number but it gave me about 15 more years to live and to enjoy my family and friends, which was a blessing from God. Most people with Parkinson die between 10 and 15 years
In 2015, I really started to suffer. I became weaker and weaker; I could not do anything but sit in my easy chair, and enjoy my family and friends. In 2016, a new procedure came on the research market that pumps the medication directly into the blood stream through a tube implanted in the small intestines using a large and heavy pump. I signed up for it right away and was patient number eight. I had all the confidence in the Doctors that they would look after me. It turned out that the procedure had minimal effect, as my condition became even more difficut.to handle. I had forgotten about Christ’s promise.
Christ was always with me and I felt him standing beside my sick bed. He promised me that he would never leave nor forsake me and he never has. Even in these trying times when I gave up on him, Christ was always there by my side and I am still living. And when my days are over, I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
I HAVE NOT REACHED GOLD OR SLIVER BUT MAYBE BRONZE.
Written by Karin Huels
