MARY

There are things in this life that I can never hope to understand. My daughter, Mary, and her ultimate fate is one of them.

Mary’s mother, ‘Dorothy’ and I divorced in 1980 when Mary was 8 years of age. Subsequently, Dorothy moved the children to Jacksonville; a distance of 200 miles, and a 3 ½ hour drive from my area of central Florida.

I like to think I did the best I could by my three children during their formative years, as I faithfully paid my child support, spoke to them regularly on the phone and did the ‘Recreational Dad’ thing one weekend a month.

And during Mary’s pre-pubescent years, she was the absolute most loving, giving, caring freckled-faced, red-haired little girl that you can imagine. If and when one of her siblings said, or did something which she felt was the least bit inappropriate, she might remind the offending party,

“Dad’s only here once a month. Don’t do that!”

Since I was a reservist, and as I had base privileges we would often picnic, swim or bowl at Mayport Naval Station. Without fail, as we pulled up to one of the several picnic areas, and I raised the trunk, Mary would scamper out, and insist on helping with the picnic basket; a basket which seemed larger than herself. Somehow, (I don’t know how) she always managed to get the thing to the table without dropping it; (and spilling sandwiches, soft drinks and tableware all over the ground).

At the age of 12, Mary was molested by her step-father, and upon reflection, it seems her demeanor and behavior changed overnight. (Strangely enough, I never discovered what happened to ‘James,’ as the result of his choice to do the unthinkable. I only know he was arrested the following day).

Ultimately, after having been heavily involved in promiscuity and the drug culture, (the second catalyst of which may have factored in) my daughter developed the mind-bending condition referred to as Schizophrenia. 

Without dwelling on a myriad of details, suffice it to say Mary exhibited all the classic symptoms, including hallucinations, delusions and paranoia, and has been in and out of medical facilities over the years; including two one year stints in mental hospitals. She has lived in a group home the past two decades, and has been generally stable, as the result of psycho-trophic medication.

Mary will never live independently, she will never marry, she will never own a house or a car. Short of a miracle she will live in the confines of an assisted living facility the remainder of her days.

As a Christian I believe in Divine Healing. My son, ‘John’ had badly crossed eyes as a child; when we ‘took him down’ for prayer at a large revival meeting with a nationally-known evangelist. The exact sequence of events is a bit fuzzy now, but my John’s eyes returned to normal immediately, or within days!

And yet, all the prayers in the world have not provided Mary the same kind of results.

It’s one of those things in which people talk about ‘putting it in God’s hands.’ So much easier said than done. And yet, when Jesus asked the disciples that poignant question, after some of his outer circle ‘fled the scene,’ 

“Will you also go away?” 

Peter responded with those oh-so practical words, (something for which he was not especially known), 

“Lord, to whom else can we go?”

I’m glad I experienced those blessed moments with my daughter when she was still a child, and before she began to exhibit the symptoms of her mental illness. I am glad that we could not have known how things would fall together for Mary. 

As Jesus said, 

“Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof.”

  By William McDonald, PhD. From (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 41. Copyright pending

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