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Click On Links Below For THE Coming
of Paul
Why I do not Believe in the Blood Theory
Draft of Letter to Mr Firebrace
THE COMING OF RUTH
---------------------------- By Her
Mother-Helen Kate Jones Compiled By
Paul L. Jones So after nine long
months of waiting, and wondering, and suffering, came into the world, and
into my arms, Ruth. I could never forget that episode in
my life- How Could I? A happening so poignantly longed for, so anxiously look
forward to. All the day before, Sunday the 21st.
June I new my baby was coming to me, very soon; that at any hour now, I would
be able to hold it to my heart and look into little face- the wee face I had
so far only seen in dreams, and speculated about so often- Fair I new it would
be, that is why I had chosen blue for everything that needed colors.
Sometimes I had been sure it would be a boy, and almost more often that a
little girl was coming to me, to keep me company, and make up in some degree
for the loss of my sisters. I think it was chiefly this loneliness for the
feminine sympathy that was responsible for my preference being almost if, if
slightly, for a daughter. But in my heart I new I would welcome the little
stranger with the warmest of Mother-love, be it girl or boy. Yes, I knew all that day it was
coming. Yet I felt well and happy- and made date-scones for lunch. And in the
afternoon, when my Mother and sister Nancy came over from there week-ender "Thalassa" to see how I was, I told
them I intended going to the hospital that evening, just to be on the safe
side; I made them a cup of tee, and sewed some urgently needed buttons on my
husband's trousers. I had packed my suit-case some days
beforehand- So after tea, in the cool calm of the evening my husband and I
set out for "Strathmare" Nurse white's private hospital in
Wollongong. we were waiting for the buss outside our gate, when my husband
caught sight of a car standing outside the Conner's house. Prompter that any
thing I had seen he had arranged with the to take me to Wollongong, he
himself would catch the next bus. As it was I might nearly as well have
waited for the bus, as the young mum who occupied the car, were in no great
hurry to end what seemed particularly jolly conversation with the Conner
girls. I sat among them in the back seat and waited; Yet I did not feel very
worried at the delay, though the pain I had, had in my back all day, was
getting very slowly, but visibly worse. I joined my husband in Wollongong at
the top of the street that led down to the hospital, and we went down it
together. The night air was chilly, but very calm and still. In the clear sky
a tiny newborn moon was sailing serenely. My husband stopped and turned the
coins in his pocket. I had a talk with the nurse on
reaching the brown brick building at the end of the street. When she had
heard all I had too tell her, she remarked that though I could stop if I
liked there was every probability that it may be a day- or two yet before the
actual event- that the pain I had all day may have been a false alarm. I went out and talked it over
hurriedly with my husband on the veranda, and being guided by instinct rather
than the nurses reasoning, I decided to stay. The room I was asked to wait in until
they had time to fix me up- they seemed frightfully busy- was actually the
little operating theatre! From time to time one of the two sisters who ran
the place, peeped round the door, to ask me some questions; or if I would
like a cup of tea- I said I would; I had not realised until then that I was
somewhat over fatigued for the need of it, haven eaten no supper before I
left home. But that promised cup of tea was not
destined to reach my lips- at least, not until hours after. I became so
rapidly worse that by the time I had been shown my room, and got into bed I
was well and truly on the way to the greatest ordeal I had ever faced. The sweet faced, auburn- haired girl
that shared the room, and had also only just arrived, fearing a premature
birth and the probable loss of her child, but who was so far, not suffering
herself, was full of sympathy for me- she said she new at once when an attack
was due by the way my face changed colour. Soon after they took me to the
theatre. What followed is best described in a letter I wrote to my sister
Betty four days latter, and which I will copy here---------- Dearest Sister mine-
Mother and Nancy have just been to see me, and I have bought me your
letter, which I have duly perused- Betty, it is a lovely letter. I read it to
M. and N. the rhyme at the bottom is very, very good., I mean to keep that
letter- some day I will show it to little Ruth Pauline- The letter her aunt
Betty wrote me when she was born. Yes, we have called her Ruth Pauline-
because they are the only two names that Tom and I both like; There are quite
a few other names I might have decided on had I only myself to please, but
after all the wee mite is Tom's daughter as much as mine, and it is only fair
he should be satisfied too. What brought it to a final decision was signing
the birth certificate- we found we had to sign the baby's name- and so all of
a hurry we had to decide finally. And then your letter came, sister-mine,
suggesting Lesley or Shirley! And I could have cried! If only that letter had
come a day or two earlier! I was
longing, while you were with me, dear, that you might express a strong
preference for some name- Do you know Betty, your wish would have weighed a
lot with me; and that is why I felt, and still feel quite melancholy over it.
I know you have always liked Lesley, but you never expressed it so strongly
before. Tom is delighted it is to be Ruth
Pauline. He loves these names, and I Like them very much; I think the two go
awfully well, and Pauline, which is French, gives it just the musical sound
it wants. Mother loves the name of Ruth, but doesn't care much for Pauline.
It is hard to know just what Nancy thinks-- And here I am using up precious
space talking about a mere name, while the reality, the reason for it all has
been not so much as mentioned-- So I'd better begin at once:-- Well I was perfectly well as usual in
every way up till last Sunday morning, when I woke in the morning with rather
a nasty backache, and slightly tired; but got up and got breakfast- Sunday
morning, so rather late. I was expecting Nancy and Mother over in the
afternoon, so hurried up and made some raisin scones (which by the way turned
out beautifully light) But all the time the strange pain in my back kept
coming and going- growing a little worse, I knew what it was now, but it did not
worry or frighten me in the least--True enough that ignorance is bliss! All
the same I decided it would be safer to be at the hospital. I told mother and
Nancy when they came over, that Tom was going to take me in by the buss that
evening. When we got here the nurse didn't seem
sure if it was really necessary for me to stay. She said one often gets pains
some days before. Tom and I talked it over, and decided it
would be safer for me to wait...............Sister had no sooner shown me to
my room (not a private one, as mother had tried to get me) and I had got into
bed, than the pains began to come on in earnest, getting much worse every
time. So they made me bundle out again, and took me to a funny kind of little
room with a white operating-table, on to which I climbed--and didn't leave
until another wee human was in the world! But Oh! I would rather have my whole
mouthful of teeth pulled out all at once than go through one hour of what I
had to put up with for five, or nearly five hours, until they called the
doctor to give me chloroform, which they do not give to the very last. I new
nothing then until waking slowly out of it, I herd the doctor saying "Well, you've got your
baby-- a little girl-- that's what you wanted, isn't it?" And through
the mists of half-conciseness I heard somewhere in the next room, a baby
crying, lustily--And all of a sudden I realized it was my baby! I asked if I
could see her, but they told me, not just yet-- they hadn't bathed her or
anything. Then I was given a cup of tea, and
carried back to my room, and told to go to sleep-- which I promptly did, out
of exhaustion, I think. But later on I kept waking up, and thinking of my baby,
and feeling all thrilled, and wondering when I would see her. It was not
until five or six next morning that Sister brought her into me, wearing
mother's little cream nighty, and wrapped up like a wee mummy in a blue
bunny-rug. Oh that first sight of her! Can I ever
forget how she looked then! So very very tiny-- wide open blue eyes, like
little luminous pools-- and the most wonderful rose-bud complexion I have
ever seen-- I didn't think a new-born babe could have such a white skin, and
such almost brilliantly pink cheeks and lips. That part of her was
undoubtedly from me-- but oh, she was terribly like Tom! The nose in
particular-- and she was very nearly baldy! Except for a little bit of fine
hair, much the colour of what Tom's and mine is now-- perhaps a bit fairer.
Summing up my impression of her:-- Not exactly pretty, because of her nose,
which I thought spoilt her, but very very winsome, in her tiny wide-eyed
way-- a veritable wee pixie-- in fact I am not at all sure I wont end in
nick-naming her pixie, and having done with it. But for my description of her, You'll
probably see her looking quite a bit different when you come down; for in
various little ways she is changing slightly. There is a definite, if slight,
improvement in her nose-- and her beautifully pink cheeks have almost gone--
in fact she is rather a pale wee mite this last day or two-- though I believe
it is quite natural hue for small babies. Her lips remain, as yet, unchanged,
a glorious colour to behold. She will never need rouge any more than we have
to. The nurses and the doctors are pleased
with both her and my progress. I have got on splendidly and what is more, I
am feeding baby all right so far. I am sharing the room with an awfully nice
girl, whose first baby, a boy, was born on the same morning as mine.
Little Ruth was born between half past twelve and one o'clock on the
morning of the 22nd of June, weighing at birth six pounds fifteen ounces. Well must end now, dearest sister. I
will be seeing you very soon; and I am so thrilled that you will be at
"Southsea" when I first go home. Give my fondest love to dear old dad,
and let him read this after you.
Ever your
Helen
___________________________________ The
letter I received from Betty and which I believe crossed mine, being written shortly after she and Dad had
received a telephone call from Mother telling them merely that a little
daughter had been born to me, reads as followers:-
" Willow Grange"
Moss Vale
Tues.. June 23rd 1936 My Helen-------
Here I am endeavoring to write to you; and absurd as it may seem I
feel almost incapable of putting down on paper how I feel and what I want to
say----- Oh darling--- I am so happy for you-- because I know how much this
means to you!- I am sure of this-- I am strangely, strangely happy for
you!--... How does it feel to be a Mother, Sister-mine? is it nice, and are
you terrible fond of the small wizened creature who is your daughter? Even though it (or should I say she?)
is your baby I expect it (or she) isn't very attractive or charming, just yet. I know so little of human babies and
have made such ghastly mistakes concerning them, re their eyes opening etc.,
that it will be most awfully useful and funny to really have a little
niece......... By the way was she born with her eyes open? or did she look
much like a little kitten or puppy? (I hope I am not saying anything
awfully rude, but if she proves as sweet and irresistible as the aforesaid all
will be well, and I will doubtless grow to love her very much. About the
name-- Why not call her Lesley? It is a beautiful name I think-- In fact
personally I like it better for a girl than a boy. Then again Shirly is a
pretty name "Shirly Helen" would go nicely. Oh I would ask a
thousand questions all at once!
Of course though she is fair!
But is she fat, is she lean?
Short, or tall, or in between?
Does she cry, or is she good?
Can she speak? or if she could
T'would be about herself I think
For after all there is no link--
And nothing in the world save her! Forgive this horrid letter and give my
love to little---(Blank!) Hoping you will soon feel better dear
sister mine, for I am sure are feeling a bit queer at present. With much, much love from
Betty
(Who is an Aunt) __________________________________ __ A LITTLE PROBLEM__ I liked the time I was in hospital:
Mrs. linch my room mate was such a nice young woman, and such company. By the
way I might mention that when I had been carried back from the operating-room
the auburn haired girl had been removed to a private room, soon after 6
o'clock Mrs. linch, a thin, pale woman, dark young mother had been brought in
and placed in her bed. She had been hurried to the table as soon as I had
left, and after a very hard time, I believe, her baby boy was born about
6.AM. as for the other , Mrs. Evans, her baby was born a couple of days
later-- Premature of course, weighing less than 3 lbs. and a girl-- but
contrary to what she had feared-- it lived! Yes I enjoyed my stay in hospital. That first year of married life,
though interesting in the extreme, had been full of hard work, and not a
little sickness, and this sudden and utter rest coming on top of it all was
delightful holiday to me. When I first was there I was bitterly ashamed of my
hands whenever I had to put them out for the nurse to wash-- they were so
work worn, and stained, and rough; yet before I left they were white and soft
and slender. Every one was so nice so kindly, that
there seemed to be a happy, cheerful atmosphere radiating round about, like a
sunny hello that lasted all the 12 days of my sojourn there. True I did not have the flow of
visitors that flocked to my companion's bed-side every visiting hour, and I
confess it hurt me a little, but yet these very friends of hers, rarely
failed to speak to me too, to take notice of my baby; and they invariable
brought such cheerfulness and interest with them that it materially helped to
make my sojourn at "Strathmore" brighter than it would have been
had I had a private to my self. And then best of all there were those
belonging to me to pop in and see me-- my husband, and my Mother and Sister
Nancy; And when these came little miss Baby Jones was brought in by one of
the nurses so that they may have a peep at her. And sometimes I would
persuade them to leave her lying on my arm beside me while my visitors
remained. Her father would, if he were not busy
talking of financial worries, sit beside my bed and gaze at her, trying to
come to some conclusion as to what he felt towards this small speck of
humanity-- but would end in confessing he did not know what he felt. And I could not help noticing that
Mrs. Linche,s husband never appeared to question his attitude towards his
offspring-- he loved his child from the first; and his wife had all she could
do to keep him from repeatedly kissing the wee thing while suffering from a
cold in the head-- There was that advantage anyway, little Ruth ran no risk
of contracting
a cold from her father Mother and Nancy loved Baby, and were ever
eager to see her and hold her in their arms. The only regret Mother had was
the little thing was so terribly like her father-- naturally she had wished
her to take after her daughter. Oh how I looked forward to feed-times
"baby-time" as they called it, when they would bring her to me, and
lay her in my arms, and when I could put her to my breast, and feel the
suction of the little mouth, as she drew the life giving milk that nature had
placed there for her. Even this early I new she wasn't a
greedy baby, she never hurt the nipples with the strength of her young jaws
as did Mrs. Linche's Neville; and she was very prone to fall asleep long
before the twenty minutes was up-- but then Neville too was not exempt from
this latter failing. Will I ever forget those last meals at night, at 10.pm?!
How Mrs. Linch and I, sleepy enough ourselves in all conscience, would wage a
wearisome struggle with babies that were dead to the world, and were very
nearly as difficult to raise as the actual dead! And all the time the Sisters
would keep urging us to tickle their noses and under their inert chins to
keep them awake and sucking-- And sometimes when these measures failed, as it
not infrequently did, they themselves would take the babies away and after
some lapse of time, restore them to our arms-- awake--How the miracle was
performed remains to this hour a mystery to me. When after the first week they weighed
baby, and told me she had lost a few ounces, I did not worry-- I did not-
even enquire how many, because I new that this was usual. Mrs. linshe's child
lost I believe about 4 ozs. The vivid cheeks, with which I had
first seen her, slowly faded. She became, often some what pale, but her lips
though not quite so crimson were still a very good colour. How I used to study
that little face as she lay there nestled beside me-- I new every feature by
heart, even the few hairs of her head-- but then perhaps this latter fact was
not surprising-- there were so very few! I felt certain, even from the first
that I would have been able to pick her out from a thousand babies without
hesitation-- there was only one baby, all my own, in all this world-- and how
I loved her-- pretty I did not believe her to be, but oh, how quaint-- how
quaint! I to , used to try and analyze my feelings
towards her, tried to discover in all the new, strange turmoil in my heart,
that mysterious thing they call maternal instinct, and because it, the human
soul itself, is invisible and intangible, I imagined I could not find it, and
was puzzled and inclined to tell myself that such a thing did not exist-- but
looking on it all, nine months afterwards, I know it did, even as it still
does today. Dear little baby things, I can see
them still Mrs. Linshe's and mine, being carried in one armful by the Sister
into and from the room, a little dark head, and a little fair one, so much
alike in shape and size in those days-- I have often wondered since what kind
of little chap Neville Earnest has grown into in all these mouths. We used to exchange notes on our
babies, Mrs. Linch and I, that is why, I think, we seemed to have so much in
common. And it was comforting too, if one was worried over any little thing,
to find that the other infant was subject to much the same trifle what ever
it was: On the eleventh day I was allowed up
for the first time-- I could hardly believe I had grown so thin, my clothes seemed
to hang on me. And I was so weak in the legs that I had to run my hand along
the wall to steady myself when walking down the hall to the bathroom. But after the first day this wore off
to a great extent. They bathed baby in our room that day, and I watched, to
see how it was done-- strange as it may seem, it was the first time I had
seen baby with out any clothes on. I left the hospital on the following
day, being the 12th day. Before I left I bathed and dressed baby myself, with
Sister close by of course. The bath process I managed with flying colors, but
got into disgrace when attempting to manipulate the nappy-- I was evidently
about to fasten it on quite the wrong way, judging by the rare bust of
annoyance from the Sister. My husband arrived soon after ten, and
we both went home in the ambulance car, which in this instance was just like
an ordinary car-- me proudly bearing in my arms, wrapped up in Aunty Betty's
knitted shawl-- my first born child. Mrs. Ryan was there at Southsea, when
we arrived, she had the washing all out on the line, and the table set for
lunch-- I myself Boiled the kettle, and put finishing touches to things. Betty arrived by the evening train, as
had been arranged she would, to give me a hand for a week or so. My husband had gone to the station to
meet her and carry her bag. When They entered I was standing by
the kitchen hearth, with baby in my arms almost hidden in a pink bunny-rug. Betty came forward, throwing
her arm about my neck, and it not until she had duly embraced me that, that
she turned her attention to the bundle I held. then I turned back the cover,
and showed her the wee somewhat pale face and big, wide, wondering eyes of
little Ruth Jones. What my dearest Sister though of her in that moment when
she first gazed upon the countenance of her niece I'm not sure-- She was a
little restrained in her remarks because of the presence of my husband. But as the days passed I could see
that the little baby-thing was very defiantly finding a special place in her
hart, a place which, I know, she had been preparing, as she might have
prepared a very special guest-chamber specially for this little child,
months, even before she was born-- because she was her sister's baby. I am glad that my sister was there to
share with me the first agonizing inexperience of managing a newborn babe. The wee thing was so constipated for
some days after my return, that I got thoroughly worried, and accompanied by
Betty, I hurried her back to the hospital for their help and advice. They fixed her up for the time being,
and told me to give her paraffin oil; and that probable the trouble was due
to insufficient food; this I almost flatly refused to believe, baby appeared
to be taking her food well, and I had plenty for her. They said they feared
she was not properly, but was becoming lazy at the breast, merely moving her
lips without drawing strongly-- This I also denied-- Baby was sucking all right,
I could tell, surely, if anyone could. When they weighed her however, they
found she had gone back to her birth weight! and Sister feeling her little
body said she was dreadfully thin, and seemed quite worried, I don't remember
feeling any great alarm myself- I was mildly worried of course, I had
always fancied I would have such great hefty offspring, not being a small
person myself, that the fact that this little daughter was bidding fair to
err on the petite and lightweight side was not altogether unpleasant to me. I
have since lived to learn that opinions can change rather completely for
to-day I would give anything to have a plump, rosy baby like Mothers. Sister was also definitely annoyed
that I should have walked so much, and told me that I should have made my
sister carry the baby all the way. "You may do yourself great harm for
afterlife by not taking things easier now" she told me. When she heard that I had some way to walk
to the buss, she ran out her own car and drove me to the place. Betty who had
been shopping was waiting there for me. as we drove I asked Sister if she
didn't think, on account of Baby's loss of weight, that perhaps it would be
better to feed her three hourly instead of four hourly. And she instantly-
agreed that it would probably be a good plan. It was during this same short
drive, that she suggested I should take Baby to the clinic and be guided by
the sister there. Baby was no better, and becoming thoroughly
alarmed we took her to Dr. Goldie, who prescribed milk of magnesia for her. The poor wee thing, how she hated
being dosed with these various medicines! She had at that time of her life,
such a pathetically funny little habit of throwing her wee hands up when in
distress or fear. Being denuded of all her clothing
during bath-time, caused her a feeling of insecurity, and up would go her
little hands, her wee face grown pink and puckered with very real fear, she
would let the world know all about it by remarkably energetic yelling. And the first three or four nights
after I brought her home-- What a dance she led us! My husband was frantic,
and I became worried because of the fuss he made. And poor Auntie, lying
awake in the lounge-room where she slept, was silently troubled too. "An
infant crying in the night-- an infant crying for a light-- and with no
language but a cry." Poor wee tiny thing. I used to get up
and warm a bottle, thinking she may be thirsty, and would see she was
comfortable and clean, but never would I walk the floor with her-- because I
knew, if no one else did that this was the short, sharp, inevitable battle,
that with any luck would end with long, peaceful nights for baby as well as
ourselves-- nights such as old fashioned parents never new. And surely as day
follows darkness that came-- came quicker than I had hoped it would. from the
5th night little miss Ruth slept from 10.pm. till 6.am. without a murmur and
has continued this habit all through baby-hood. In fact she soon developed into a very good baby-- neither
day nor night was there much crying heard from the pram in which she would
lie, quite as a little mouse, often scarcely sleeping for a couple of hours
at a time. gazing up at who ever went near her with big, wide as yet unseeing
eyes. There was one other time at which she
manifested slight alarm, and therefore would cry a little, and that was when
I partly undressed her, and left her lying in the morning sunrays-- in short
gave her a sunbath. At first it was
only five minutes I left her uncovered to the waist, Gradually
increasing it day by day until 20 min. or half an hour was not to long in this way she never burnt,
but in time her little legs and even further up became a very decided tan. as
the allowed minutes increased she would cease crying, becoming accustomed to
it, and usually ending in falling asleep in the comfortable warmth. For yet
it was scarcely out of winter, and the sun had no burning qualities. After about weeks with us, in which time she helped
me so able with the house and the baby, that I don't know what I would have
done without her, my sister Betty left for home. it was one cool, fine
morning about 9 O'clock that she bad a fond farewell to myself and her little
niece. I had dressed Baby in the blue dress and bonnet her- Auntie had knitted her,
in honor of the occasion, and with the wee blue gnome in my arms I stood at
the gate, and waved good bye as the buss slid off towards Wollongong. _________________________________ THE COMING OF PAUL
17/10/1937 By Helen Kate Jones Compiled by Paul Jones ------------------------------- Well I
have two little children now-- a girl and a boy-- could any mother wish for
better combination. The wee son was born on the 28th of Sep. 1937, at 1/2
past 5 in the morning. It was 1/2 past 12 on the night of the
27th that I became sick. It was very sudden. I had no indication whatsoever
during the day or evening. I gave Ruth her late bottle, which on
that particular evening, for some reason was near 11 o'clock-- even then I
felt perfectly well. I was obliged to wake Mother and Dad--
They were dears! never murmured, but just got up and got dressed. Mother accompanied
by Dad drove me up to Garryowen hospital in the Buick. It was a fine, dark
night, just a little chilly. The matron opened the door to our ring
she was in her dressing-gown and looked half asleep-- I felt sorry we had not
given her a ring to let her know I was going up; But she did not seem to mind
at all. Mother and Dad said a fond farewell to me, and left. I hoped they
would get home safely, for Mother was not very used to driving the car at
night. Matron and I unpacked my suit case in
the in the hall so as not to wake the inhabitants of the ward. When we had found the necessary
things, she escorted me to the little theatre. it was not quite so up-to-date
as the one in Wollongong, but looked less frightening because of this fact. I hardly know whether I felt very
nervous or not, as I undressed, I believe I did a little, remembering what it
had been like before. so far I had only slight pains. But they rapidly became
worse once I was on the bed. Matron however declared that I had scarcely even
begun, and would not probably need her attention for some time yet. so after
seeing I was comfortable she went off to bed, leaving me a bell to ring in
case I needed her. To be in such a condition and left
alone is not calculated to conduct restfulness, or peaceful slumber; And yet
I was not really uneasy, at least not very, I lay there, and between the
pains endeavored to realize the situation, to grasp the meaning of all this--
to realize the wonder of it all-- I was going through, for the second time, one
the greatest experiences of life. This meditation rapidly became less
frequent as the pains became more so-- And yet, through it all I don't think
I ever quite lost the realization of the wonder of it all. At last I rang for the Matron. She
came and this time stayed with me. I kept asking if the Dr. would soon be
there, and wondered why she would not answer me directly. Next day I learnt
that she had tried several times, in vain, to raise the exchange, the boy in
charge had evidently fallen asleep, and therefore she couldn't get into touch
with Dr. Wise. Eventually she had to send someone post-haste to Dr. Newton’s,
he being the nearest. He arrived only just in time-- a few
minutes later and the baby would have come into this world unassisted by a
doctor. as it was he was in time to give me the blessed whiff
of chloroform that sent me into oblivion until it was all safely over. I remember coming-to again suddenly
and dreamily, hardly able to believe that it was already over. And just as
had been the case when Ruth was born, from out of the clearing mists of
semi-consciousness I heard my baby crying, and with a complacent thrill
realized that it lived. I asked several questions among which
was "is the baby alright?" "is it a boy or a girl?" I remember someone
answering " a boy" to which I replied with feeling " Oh that
is good!" Not until I heard myself utter this exclamation with a warmth
that surprised my own half conscious ears, did I realize that it must of been
a boy I wanted all the time deep down in my heart though I had believed I had
no preference. As they wheeled me from the room I
caught a fleeting glimpse of my son-- through the bars of the little blue
crib in which they had placed him I saw a momentary vision of a little
puckered up red face crowned by thick jet-black hair. I experienced a moment
of incredulous wonder " could it really be my baby, that little dark,
foreign looking creature squirming and wailing there in the tiny cot?" I was soon in a bed in the women's
ward, and was conscious that there were two other occupants of the room, both
young woman, expecting babies. It was almost quite light by now with
a weird grey light, for it must have been almost six o'clock. The next thing to happen was that I
was drinking a cup of tea brought to us by a neat little maid. It was considerable later they bought
my baby in for me to see, telling me he weighed 9lbs. this information caused
me more than almost anything else-- To think I had given birth to a nine
pound child, after the fears I had, had because of little Ruth's delicacy. As
soon as they laid the little fellow in my arms I could see that he was
healthy, as chubby as you could wish-- I had not imagined a bran-new infant
could have such plump little limbs, already he had deep bracelets around his
wrists, and his little eyes could scarcely open because of the fatness of his
cheeks-- but Oh, he was alarming ugly!
He was like a little bulldog pup. His little face looked almost
pugilistic in its ruddy masculinity-- for masculine he indeed was even to his
hands which were large and broad, unlike the tiny, slender things Ruth's had
been when first I saw them. He had none of her fair pink and white complexion
either-- his including his large shell-shaped little ears and his broad tilted
nose, was vividly scarlet, with almost an olive tint underlying it. A darker
child apart from a piccaninny one could hardly find, when first I saw him. There was one thing which first at
first somewhat alarmed me-- and that was his chin-- it was reclining to a
really ghastly degree, tucked away back from his mouth, taking the under lip
with it a pity too, for otherwise it was a broad, well formed chin. And dear,
dear! He had a regular little bull-neck, short and very, very fat! Yet even at first sight I was pleased
with him-- even with his ugliness for there was something sturdy about him--
and he looked such a real boy. Of cause they rang up from home and
wanted to know if they could see me that morning, but Matron advised waiting
till the afternoon and then they came like an avalanche the whole lot of
them-- Dad, Mother, Betty and Nancy, and even little Ruth-- they were all
very polite about the baby, and seemed genuinely interested in him-- all
except his sister, who catching site of lying in the little crib by my bed
exhibited signs of genuine terror, and this together with the shock of seeing
her Mother in such a strange, new place, got on her nerves so badly that she
began to cry, and prance about in Aunty Betty's hold, and so had to be taken
out. The family were on their way to visit Peggy Damphiny with whom they had
made the arrangement some days before. I have heard that after they left me
Mother remarked that she thought the baby real manly looking little chap. And so I embarked on my second
sojourn in hospital. And even as I found the first time a memorable and
pleasant time, so I found this except perhaps to a slightly lesser degree
because of the alterations in my domestic life, it hurt me to see
Mrs.Friend's and Mrs. Davies devoted young husbands come and sit by them of
evenings-- during the first confinement my husband used to do the same. Mrs. Davies only stayed a few days she
was not expecting her child for three weeks yet. Mrs. Friend's baby was born
the following day to mine. it was a girl, and weighed 10lbs. but it bust a
blood vessel in its stomach and was soon a very sick infant. for several days
they would give it nothing but boiled water. one evening they got the father
up to give it a blood-transfusion. I don't think they new how it would go
with the little thing, and if I had been the mother I would have been almost
beside myself disappointment and apprehension-- but it almost seemed that she
did not fully realize the seriousness of it all-- if she did she kept
marvelously calm throughout. I don't think I have ever been more
thankful for any thing than for the comparison between that baby and my own--
for once mine was the strong baby. it was very, very sweet to me indeed to
feel that at last I was the mother of a normal healthy baby; and watched him
anxiously from Day to day, almost fearful lest I should see him beginning to
grow pale as Ruth had done. And he did get less ruddy than when I
first set eyes on him; but this was probably only natural. At the end of the first week the
Matron remarked as she lay him in his little crib beside me after having
bathed and weighed him "You must have enough for him Mrs. Jones- he is
getting very nicely" and she added with a laugh " he just lay there
on the scales and blanked looking up at me." Betty and Nancy, or Dad popped in to
see me every day! Mr. Firebrace came one afternoon too. And miss Morgan and
even Gwen Glading, and Fuith Smith called, but was not allowed to see me because
it was dinnertime. I believe this was the extent of my visitors. Naturally the questions of the wee
fellow's name came up during my sister’s visits I could not make up my
mind--it is far more difficult that would at first imagined to pick a name for
ones own child. It seems so monotonous somehow, Betty and Nancy rather liked
Peter-- said he looked like a regular ruddy Peter-- I liked this name, and
for a while thought I would call him it. They got to know of this at the
hospital, and from then until the time he left he was known as
"Peter". At last I told Nancy one day when she
was up to see me that, that she and Betty could pick the name. I did not say
this because I felt myself incapable of choosing it myself, there were
several I had in mind, which I liked very much, but because I loved my
sisters, and knew it would give them pleasure, and more practicable interest-
in there wee nephew. And in their choice I would find real pleasure too,
because it would be what two persons I loved very much had chosen. And the name they chose was Paul. And
Paul he is to be. I chose his after names, Paul Lesley De. Witt Jones. Rather
a long, grand name for such an atom of humanity-- I hope he will be worthy of
it. During the morning of my first Sunday
there I received one of the surprises of my life. Matron broke the news to
me-- She told me that my Mother was an inmate of this very hospital-- that
she had been rushed up late on Wednesday night, just 24 hours after she had
driven me up, and had been operated on for appendicitis. She was getting on
well now matron assured me. They had not told me sooner because of causing me
anxiety. I learned afterwards that Mother had
been a brick but that the affair had been a pretty bad one, entailing two
operations, one on the Wednesday night and another on the following Saturday.
How worried I would have indeed been had I known at the time. I think every
one were wonderful how they kept from me. And they had been coming to see me
just as usual, and I had vaguely wondered why they looked tired and sad.
However, it all ended well, thank God. On the seventh day Baby was
circumcised, I had requested the doctor that it should be done. They took the
poor wee fellow away, and actually put him under- chloroform. When they
brought him back he was making the strangest noise as he breathed, a kind of
a loud indrawing of the breath, like a kind of sobby sigh. The told me not to
be alarmed, as some mothers were. That it was just the air getting into his
lungs, and was rather a good sign showing that he was coming out of the
anesthetic alright. ----By Helen Kate Jones---- Written
about 1945
[Transcribed by her son Paul] Its
almost ten years now since I was confirmed Arch Bishop Darcy Irving in the
pretty little church of St. Johns, Moss Vale, along with my sister Betty and
a few other Girls and boys. I was dressed as a bride in white and should have
felt solemnly thrilled, or at least, a great deep sense of the Significances
of the occasion, a sense that it was one of the greatest days of my life-- Yet I can not
remember feeling in much degree any of these things. I was just twenty-one,
and endeavouring to pledge myself to the Christian creed in spite of the fact
that lately strange, new thoughts had been vaguely stirring in my young mind
causing me to feel, for the first time in my life slightly out of harmony
with the beliefs of my childhood, That until now had been so taken for
granted, so unquestioned by me. Little wonder then, perhaps, that my confirmation coming at such a time did me very little good. It was on my part merely a rather desperate effort to stabilise my wandering faith, and force myself back into the old traditional way of believing what I had been taught to believe. In those days I acutely ashamed of, and even horrified at the questioning of my mind; and in an honest endeavour to quench them, turned my back on them, and purposely took a forced interest in the church and its activities. I attended confirmation classes; got confirmed; and took Sunday school work, teaching first a class of little girls, and later of little boys, strenuously keeping strictly to orthodox views in teaching them. Needless to say all this gave me but little comfort and less satisfaction. Two years later I got a situation in the Church of England Hostel for school girls in Wagga Wagga. Miss Akehurst, the principle was High Church, as was the church there, the Clergyman preferring to be called father, and offering confessional to those who were willing. The crucifix was carried around the church by scarlet clad boys. And people bobbed before the alter as they entered the pews. It was all very impressive, and made quite an impression on me the first few times, until my natural rationalism came to the fore, and told me how silly, and heathenishly superficial was such a display among educated modern people. The regulation of the Hostel required all its inmates to attend Holy Communion once every Sunday. I did so first thing in the morning before breakfast, with a strange repugnant reluctance. I know how solemnly it was regarded, and knew that in my heart of hearts I could not attend in the state of heart necessary at such a sacrament. If there is one thing I have always abhorred it is being false to my self and others in religious matters, and taking part in a sacrament in which I could not one hundred percent sympathise, was extremely painful to me. And yet in those days, I had no strong enough convictions of my own to enable me to go against rules and refuse to attend Holy Communion – My idea’s were practically unformed, my doubting, and disbelief in the traditional religion still fitful and vague, though stronger than at the time of my conformation, and less horrifying to me. I was still fighting and struggling to keep hold of old faiths, strenuously reluctant for the sake of old langsyne and an honest uncertainty, to let them go, deeming it safer to hold fast to the deal that I knew than to discard it for the deal I did not know. Two years after this I met and married my Husband, an unintellectual man , with a simple belief in the christen doctrine that did not seem to help him greatly in his every day life. He believed explicitly in the theory of unmerited favour through the blood of Christ. It was the only doctrine he seemed to have clearly defined in his mind. I have often wondered since if perhaps he believed some of his own merit necessary to get him to heaven it might not have proved a better stimulant in checking him from entering into these unseemly tempers that in the end, five years after our marriage, were the major cause of our final parting. Just before and during our marriage I went through the most worldly and careless period of my life. Spiritually slipped into the back of my mind, so to speak, and my newly found life, especially my home, and the coming of my babies occupied practically all my thoughts: And when I did have time to think of deeper things my brain was so tired out with the endless task of keeping a house and family going that I could not use it to the best advantage by a long way. And so for almost five years my Spiritual progress was virtually at a standstill. Consequently the vital questions that for some time years past had been worrying me, ceased to trouble me much at all. Subconsciously my neglected beliefs slipped back into the way of least resistance into the old grooves of my childhood, there to lie dormant, save when I wished to preach to my husband, or teach my babes to lip a first prayer.. And so it came about that my children’s first religious instructions were as conventional and orthodox as my own had been. When it became necessary for me to leave my husband, and the children came to live with my parents and two sisters in the old home of my girlhood I began once more, to think in the tranquil somewhat monotonous existence in which I again found myself to think more seriously and frequently about the spirituel side of life. And still, after all these years I made separated if weakening attempts to regain the fading faith of my early youth. Reviewing it now, it seems to me that one of the main reasons for my wishing to keep it , apart from a desire to a quite dead sure of my own convictions before throwing it up, was because it was the much loved cried of my family to whom I have always been most devoted. I instinctively felt that if I once cut adrift from the doctrine they held I would automatically and irretrievably cut myself off from the soul-harmony I had always enjoyed with my sisters in particular: Religion to them is no light thing anymore than it is to me – we could not differ on vital points concerning it and still retain our intellectual comradeship. And so far two more years I said very little to them about the ceaseless battle I waged deep down in my soul for spiritual truth that alone could bring me that spiritual peace I craved but did not possess. Meanwhile I continued to teach my three young children according to the simple faith of my own childhood, and allowed their aunts to give them hymns of his sacrifice for sin and his godhead in the skies. And all the time something in my soul clamoured against it- Giving me no rest, no happiness in my children’s spiritual growth; Calling to me to be true to my strengthening conviction that Christ was not god, and to be bold enough to proclaim it to my relatives, and teach my own children in the way of truth as I saw it. Yet I held on to tradition as a drowning man might grasp last mast of his sinking ship. All the really good people I could think of were Christians (certainly I do not know many people good or bad). There was a marked improvement in my sister Betty’s character since she had “given her life to Christ”. And in talking, with my sisters I readily agreed that Christianity was responsible for the better social systems over more than half the world, and that things could have been even better had the human race taken Christianity more to heart than it had done; but even as I spoke in my own mind laid the emphasis on Christianity rather than Christ. Yet I had relapses not infrequently in which I earnestly wished I could embrace the orthodox apostolic believe as my sisters did. I envied them for their deep, unruffled faith and the resultant happiness, and the joy they found in going to church, and in Christian fellowship. In vain did I try to follow their example, and attend church services and admire and get to know their friends. None of these things seemed to help me, or draw me any nearer to Christ- Search as I would, pray as I would- and in these days I did both hard and fervently. He remains to me far away, aloof and unreal- But god, ah that is a different story, He has always been near me as in these last months of struggle and perplexity. I think I can honestly say I have never in all my life doubted the existence of god, the Creator and ruler of the universe, or the immortality of the soul. It was to my Maker I prayed in these days, that he would not suffer me to go astray in my search for Truth. I simply wanted to see the light, and I asked Him earnestly and humbly to open my eyes. Last summer, while my mother was away in hospital and my sisters and I were thrown very much together I went through a short, strange period in which I actually decided that I would put all reasoning aside and believe blindly, as a little child in the divinity of Christ. I opened my mind and soul, so to speak, wide to him, and hoped and prayed for faith. For a few day, it might have been a week I was light-hearted and happy, and fondly believed it was because of the change- I know now that in reality it was because the weight of the battle had been temporally lifted, and that, and that I was taking a kind of a holiday away from the fret and worry of my reasoning and doubts. I told my sisters of my decision, and felt a glow of satisfaction. But soon very gradually at first, my Faith and decision began to ebb out together. Old questionings crept back to trouble my mind, questioning crept back to trouble my mind. In things I wrote and said I found
myself avoiding the direct mention of Jesus, substituting only too willingly
for it the word God, Creator or Omnipotence- Indeed even during the period in
which I actually thought I had accepted Christ I was puzzled by this same
reluctance deep down inside to allude to him in the name the God I adored, or
to associate him directly with that god to myself or to other people. It was as this fact became apparent to me that I began to realise all was not well with this faith into which I had tried to force myself. Indeed after the first few weeks, became spiritually uneasy and unhappy. It is somewhat difficult to explained on paper. Just what were my feelings during that short period in which I acted against every intuition and impulse of my soul, except to say that, when at last I faced the facts once more and decided once and for all that orthodox Christianity had nothing to offer me save the example of a perfect life lived two thousand years ago, and that I had better give the farce in which I had been deceiving myself and others and go straight on with my search after truth, I felt that I had broken some iron chains by which my spirit had been chafed and kept in bondage. Two things were mainly responsible for my decision to finally throw overboard tradition and convention and stand forth boldly in the nakedness of my own true convictions. One was my sister Betty’s doctrine books by the help of which she has passed her deaconess cause. These books with there narrow view, bigoted intolerance, and almost baby like believe in magic and supernatural phenomena were great eye openness to me as to what the Orthodox Christian creed really is- I felt such a creed would never suit me- it requires a good deal more credulity than I possess. The other and stronger factor was strangely persistent urge of conscience that kept continually counselling me to be true to my convictions at all cost- “Not until Then- not until then” The voice of my God seemed to tell me “can you know the grand, glorious freedom your spirit craves- until you get that freedom the growth of your soul and that of your children’s will be retarded” _____________________________________________________________________ Why I do not Believe in the Blood Theory By
Helen Jones Transcribed
be her son Paul
Text “For the son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to Minister, and to give his life a ransom for many” __________________________________________________ Interpretation
Ransom Means:---- The price paid to redeem a person, or Goods, from an enemy—or, to redeem from captivity by a price __________________________________________________ Christs Life was the price he was willing to pay to redeem his people from error which leads to sin, and there for to separation from god and is in its truest sense, captivity. By giving us the truth he redeemed us and set us free- But by giving us the truth he invoked the hatred of the teaches of error as he knew from the beginning he would; and the death of the cross, followed as an inevitable sequence. He could have avoided it- but only by
leaving His sheep to the mercy of the wolves. And so of His own free will He
lay down his life for the sheep “ The great shepherd lay down his life for
the sheep” rather than leave them at the approach of danger to Himself, to
the scattered from the way of truth in which He alone could lead them: For he
said “I am the way, the truth and the life” He that followeth me will not
walk in the darkness but shall have the light of life” It is the light we receive through believing in Him- or to put it another way, believing his words and keeping His commandments that gives us life. There is no such thing as unmerited favour; Christ did not literally bear our sins for us during the crucifixion to satisfy Gods outraged sense of justice. He was God’s ambassador, sent into the world with an ultimatum for peace- we can either accept, or reject that ultimatum, the conditions of which are simply- Repentance of faith. Repentance means- a turning around- and would mean here- a turning round to God. This is not unmerited Favour- There is
nothing mysterious about it- It is a law of nature, and therefore is
acceptable to God who is the author of all that is natural. The impulse to
forgive: followers the impulse to repent: as spontaneously in anyone of True
nature, as the day follows the morning or the summer the spring. What just father will not forgive his
child if they return again to do his will? Or even endeavour to do it? Or what prison law will not slacken
and become lenient towards the prisoners who good behaviours? If therefore we, being but human, can
forgive where we feel it is merited, how much more possible must forgiveness
be to God, His nature being so much vaster than ours- His understanding so
infinitely bigger. The blood theorists point out that
even repentance would not render us perfect enough to stand in Gods presence— But do they forget that it was God
himself who made us? That we are as much part of His creation as the earth,
the spheres, and indeed as heaven itself? And that in Genesis it tell us,
that when the Lord had finished creation He looked upon it, and saw that it
was good? Do they forget that God hateth nothing
that he made? It was He Himself who gave us
free-will, and with it, great limitation as to its strength— If
human will power had been three or four times as strong, Eve would not have
succumbed to the Spirit of evil in the Garden of Eden. There is a definite limit also, to the
intellect and reason with which we have been endowed. God Himself has given us
nerves—supersensitive and attuned to acute sensibilities. And through and
through these very nerves we can feel Gods presence, and glory in it, we can
also feel the urge of anger, jealousy, sensuousness and passion, and the fear
that to o often leads to deceit, and at other times to a weakening of our
faith. They make us tired, so that we cannot work for Him, or prey to Him, as
we should. Christ realised this when he said, “
The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.” True God does require us to be
perfect, even as He is perfect—But it is the heart rather than the act by
which He judges. If therefore the thoughts of the heart
can make us sinful, they can also make us perfect. If they can condemn us,
they can save us. There are many—more than we suspect,
who have grand, high, noble ideals—all who have seen the truth as preached by
Jesus Christ have them—all who believe in Him desire to serve Him—and none
wholly succeed on account of their bodily impurities. God would be short sighted indeed if
He could not foresee that these same people, when at last they are freed from
the body and its impediments are well nigh perfect, even to the degree of
being worthy to share with the angels the glory of His heaven. We can be sure God does know this, for
He is the great Psychologist. Christ knew it when he said, “ behold a man in
whom there is no guile”. If He was not judging that man minus
his bodily handicaps, how could He have said such a things of a mere human
being. Are not the best of us guilty of guile at some time or another? Fortunately most of the sins from
which we suffer can be shed with the body, providing of course, that they
have not became soul-deep, that is to say, that they are unwelcome guests,
and not bosom-friends. It is when we make gods of our sins,
and worship them as truth, that they become deadly, as a cancer, eating into
our souls, until the whole soul becomes changed in substance, resembling, and
being actually part of the thing that changed it. In short, being of one
substance with Satan instead of God. If we die in this state, then indeed
must God say depart—for we can have nothing in common with Him, and we are
not fit for heaven. Repentance would be impossible to such a Soul. It would
not have the capacity to repent. It is only when our sins are unwelcome to us
that we have the power to repent. The very fact of repentance shows in itself
that the sin is not of the soul; that it is rather caused by some bodily or
mental weakness that death would remove. Unmerited
favours could not by any rational explanation take away sin, even though it
could be forgiven. Repentance (which is a turning sound to God) dose that so
thoroughly, that there would in any case, be no need for anything else. Christ came into the world, not to
save us by any kind of magic, but to “Call sinners unto repentance”, and to”
Sanctify them in the truth” --------------------------------------- Draft
of Letter to Mr Firebrace
The Church of England Minister(it is not known whether it was ever sent}
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