Living Next Door to Heaven 2Introduction to Part IX Heaven s Gate
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Living Next Door To Heaven 3: What Were They Thinking?Chapter 18: Discernment free porn video
Nothing, of course, is that easy. I was sent to Amarillo AFB as a UPT instructor and awarded the rank of Captain. Until the end of 1968 when the base closed, I trained pilots and sent them into the jaws of death.
And I met Bea Townsend.
Despite my conviction that God had spared me in Vietnam, I sank to my lowest level of depravity during those three years. I drank heavily. I indulged in the pleasures of the flesh. There were many willing women near the base, especially for an officer. Inside of a year, I failed to pass my physical. I did not see the interior of a cockpit during the remainder of my term and was passed over for promotion to Major, the kiss of death to any Air Force career ambitions I might have had, so I accepted separation from active duty when the base closed.
I met Bea at an AA meeting. I was too ashamed to attend one of the sessions that were common on base. I’d gone to a local meeting in Amarillo.
Bea was openly critical, though she’d voluntarily entered the program after a session in rehab. She challenged me as no woman had ever done. I found myself attending her church. I thought I would return to Indiana after my service was done but I was ashamed to face my father and my younger sister who had idolized me. I didn’t know what I could do that would be acceptable in the sight of God.
Bea recognized my plight and, through hours of prayer and Bible study, helped me to see that no one was beyond the saving grace of our Lord.
She proved that the day she proposed to me.
“John, you’re a good man and thoughtful. Perhaps you are thinking things through too much,” she said. She reached across the seat and placed her hand on mine as I drove her to dinner after church on Sunday.
“I’m a sinner, Bea. I’ve polluted this body. Every day, I crave the cigarettes and alcohol I’ve given up.”
“All we like sheep have gone astray,” she intoned. “I’ve thought about this a lot, John. I’m not pure either. We wouldn’t have met in an AA meeting if I was. Yes, that includes all the abominations of the body. I understand the cravings. Alcohol. Tobacco. Drugs. Sex. I’ve been clean and sober for twenty-two months. What I crave most is something you have in abundance. Love. Marry me, John. I will be your helper, mother of your children, strength when you are weak. But to love me, you have to love yourself. Show me you can forgive both of us our pasts and marry me.”
I changed course from our intended restaurant and drove to the shopping mall. I took Bea’s hand and led her to Zale’s to have an engagement ring fitted to her finger. We bought wedding bands at the same time.
“Bea Townsend, I am a wreck of a man but I am rebuilding my life on the sure foundation of our Lord. Take me as I am, as I accept you as you are. Be my wife, Bea, and I will be your husband, now and forever. I love you.”
“I love you, John Clinton. We will rebuild our lives together.”
My college degree, at the encouragement of my father, was in business and accounting. It had been a natural move for me to find a job in banking when I left the service. I quickly rose to Vice President at Citizens Bank, which meant I could help ranchers acquire cattle, cotton growers to get harvesters, and new oil barons to put wells on their property. Bea and I were married in January of 1971 and settled down in a small house near her parents. Almost exactly a year later, our daughter, Cassandra, was born.
Though Bea’s parents were enthusiastic about our marriage, they were not a good influence on our lives. Jim Townsend was a wildcatter and was always in debt. He drank hard and gambled big. There was constant pressure on me to loan him money for his next well—whether from the bank or from my personal funds. Dee was a waitress at a seedy bar and was known to not come home at night if Jim was drilling out of town.
Life was stressful for us and as much as we wanted a good family relationship, both Bea and I struggled not to be sucked down into her family’s morass.
“John, I promised to be your helpmate and supporter. I promised to be a good mother to our children,” Bea said as we lay together in bed. I knew all the joys of the flesh a woman can provide for a man and did my utmost to let Bea know what joys she could have from me. Even through her pregnancy, we had maintained a healthy sex life. After the birth of our daughter, we renewed our lovemaking with vigor, hoping to be blessed with another. “We need to leave Texas.”
I looked long and hard into the eyes of my wife and saw there the strain she was under.
“For the sake of our daughter,” I said. She nodded. “Let’s put the house up for sale and go back to Indiana.”
“Whither thou goest, I will go. Your people shall be my people and your God my God,” she said. Tears fell from her eyes as we made love again, knowing we would be leaving all her family and history behind.
My parents, bless their hearts, welcomed us with open arms and doted on little Cassandra. I didn’t need to worry about her being dropped or becoming intoxicated by simply breathing the same air as her grandparents. My sister Julia became an instant best friend for Bea, a willing babysitter, and a refuge while we looked for a home in Indiana.
My credentials got me a job at the St. Joe Valley Bank and Trust so we could truly settle down and decide where to live. My father, of course, had some ideas.
“How much are you flying, John?” he asked. Dad’s business had been forced to change with the winding down of the war effort. He’d managed a transition from avionics to general electronics and that industry was booming. We sat in his big study for this important father and son chat.
“After Vietnam ... When I was young here and a part of CAP, I thought my flying would all be to aid and rescue people in trouble. I ... I don’t even know how many people I killed. All the missions were against military targets ... munitions dumps, supply routes, surface to air missiles ... but not all the people were soldiers. Heavy bombs are indiscriminate. I ... I can’t go back up there without hearing their cries.”
“You need to fly. Son, you went through some hard times when you came back. You sank to some level of depravity. But you and Bea have proven that you can rebuild. You needed to reclaim your life for the Lord despite the fact you had fallen. I’m telling you as the father who loves you more than anything on this earth, you need to reclaim the sky as well.”
It is not unusual for alcoholics to gain significant weight when they quit drinking and quit smoking. Bea caught me looking at myself in the bedroom mirror, dressed only in my boxers.
“Admiring yourself?” she laughed.
“Oh, Bea, I think I am twice the man you married.”
“I love every pound, but we have gained a little weight, haven’t we?” She immediately began taking off her clothes until she stood beside me in just her bra and panties as we looked in the mirror.
“You’ve always been a fine-looking woman, Bea, but I didn’t marry you for your looks. I just have been thinking about what my father said the other night. If I ever want to get back in a cockpit, I need to shed some pounds and make sure I can pass the general physical that’s required,” I sighed.
“I don’t want Cassie to grow up with this as the image of what she will be in the future,” she said. “We should go on a diet.”
“Not just diet but exercise, as well. I spend my days sitting at a desk and if this continues, I’ll need a bigger chair.”
“Do you really want to fly again, John?”
“I used to love to fly. When I was in Vietnam, I was afraid every time I went up. We lost so many. Over three hundred men flying the same craft I did, didn’t return home. And how many of the enemy we left dead or dying on the ground. I wonder if it is possible for me to go into the air again and touch the hand of God.”
“You will need a two-seater aircraft this time, my love. I plan to fly with you.”
“You don’t have to do this just because I want to.”
“I am your helpmate. This is something I can help with. I’ll go to the bookstore tomorrow and see if I can find something that will help us.”
And thus, our project began. Bea read that simply starving ourselves was not an effective diet plan. We parted from the heavy southern cooking we’d become accustomed to and began eating vegetables. Not to the exclusion of meats, but we increased the percentage of poultry and even began eating fish. I never quite developed a taste for fish, but Bea said once a week we would pretend to be Catholic and insisted that we eat fish. I was pretty sure that most of my Catholic acquaintances did not abstain from meat on Fridays any longer but our own Free Gospel Church members were often known to bend the rules against dancing and card playing. Perhaps that is a subject for later.
Fish once a week was only part of the new food regimen that Bea instituted for us. It included less fried food, fewer simple starches, and a lot more fruit. I carried an apple to work each day in the lunch that Bea began packing for me.
For my part, I located my age-old book of Air Force exercises that my recruiter had given me to prepare for Air Force Basic Training. There was no way either Bea or I could do the full regimen when we started. I modified it into a list of exercises that we would begin with and then how and when we would add others.
I would never again be in the physical condition I was in when I finished Basic but gradually, Bea and I lost weight and improved our health. I remembered again what a beautiful woman she had been when we first started dating as I saw her emerge from the weight she had carried since her pregnancy. Her progress inspired me and when I began to slacken, I reminded myself that it was not just for me that I wanted to improve but to support my wife and set a good example for my three-year-old daughter.
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