I had a close friend who led a secret life. Jean and I were roommates in a little apartment in downtown Indianapolis before I met my husband. We also worked together. She was attractive, smart and a very good person. We remained friends for several decades.
Jean wore lovely clothes, make up and shoes. She had an occasional glass of wine, something I did not do at the time. We both saved our money but still had fun on the weekends playing sports in our shorts, t-shirts and white Keds - and flirting with young men.
Except every other weekend Jean went "home" to see her parents and siblings. They lived in Southern Indiana and belonged to a strict religious group. Some folks called it a cult. The rules of living were severe, especially for women. There were no movies, television, books or magazines.
On those "home" visits Jean wore no makeup or jewelry or pants/shorts. She wore a long dark dress. The only bridge in her appearance from one home to the other was her hair. It was never to be cut. She wore it wound up in a knot on top of her head.
In this particular form of Christianity women were to live and serve under the leadership of men. Period.
Again, Jean lived like a normal young women in Indianapolis. She had a few long term romantic relationships with regular, nice guys but never married. After I left Indianapolis she worked for an international company and traveled to Japan often. When I saw her in the early 1980s she looked great.
But then her father died and her mother needed assistance. Jean quit her job and moved back home to care for her mother until she passed away. When I saw her in the 1990s in Florida everything had changed. I was startled by her appearance. She looked like an old lady. She was depressed. After all those years she had re-embraced the religion of her family.
Jean told me that when her mother was very ill she'd made a deal with God that if he spared her mother for a while she would return to the fold. So the price for having her mother around for a few extra years was was losing her freedom. She was being monitored (my word) by her brother.
In 2005 I saw Jean for the last time. While I was visiting Indianapolis I rented a car and drove to the small town where Jean was living alone in her mother's house. I spent the night and when we went to bed I was bored out of my mind because there was nothing to read and nothing to watch.
The worst part of the visit was that it was clearly evident to me that Jean had dementia .
Is this what God wants for us? Is this the abundant life?
***
