CARLA BARKLEY WOOD

Chapter 7 Copyright 2023 – Carla J. Wood

Building our Family

But the love I have for

my children is the only

love that split my soul

with each birth, and still

miraculously multiplies

with each year I am

their mother

~ Alfa~

I finally decided to go to a school a lot of my friends attended, Northwest Nazarene College. Leaving my family was very difficult, but I was convinced that nothing I could do would heal my mom and their marriage. So, in September 1980, with most of my belongings packed into the car, I tearfully kissed everyone goodbye, and Dad drove me to Nampa, Idaho. The ten-hour trip was the longest time I had been alone with my dad in many years. Much of the time was spent listening to the radio or in a companionable if slightly awkward silence. I could tell he wanted the time alone with me to reconnect, but neither of us knew how.

We arrived late in the day and after moving my things into a dorm room I’d be sharing with a high school friend, Julie, Dad retreated to a hotel for the night before returning the next morning to have breakfast with me at the college cafeteria. Despite my desire to break out on my own, I had a renewed sense of a loving connection with my dad and felt sadness at a lost opportunity to deepen the bond. I was gently reminded of the moment he had rescued me from drowning as a little girl. Dad hugged me, then handed me a present to be opened when he left. Kissing him on the cheek, I watched him get into the car and drive away, then carried the gift to my room to open it. Carefully wrapped was a book, Letters to Karen: A Father’s Advice on Keeping Love in Marriage, by Charlie W. Shedd. Inside was a sweet message sharing Dad’s heart and how the things he had not had time to teach me were in this book. He added how much he loved me and would pray for me daily, which he has continued to this day. I treasured his heart reaching out to me in this wise book with his loving words so carefully penned. One more source of help towards a godly family, coming from my dad meant the world to me.

Spring of 1981 came upon me so quickly and my parents separated, spiraling me into a depression. There were many things going on in my mind. Loneliness hit, some broken relationships had occurred and now having an unknown unstable home waiting for me was a huge hit to my spirit. I cried out to God and at the same time told my roommate I was not going to date one more guy until graduation. Julie’s response to my declaration was humorously blunt.

“I thought you were going skiing with five guys and four other girls tomorrow. You might marry one of the guys.”

“No way!”

“Well, lets see who you are going with?”

Knowing all the guys in the group, Julie analyzed that the only guy I could possibly marry was the “Gary guy” who neither of us knew.

That night I had a dream that I married the “Gary guy” and he looked like Robin Williams as “Mork” with soft wavy medium length brown hair. Intrigued, I looked forward to seeing the “Gary guy”.

Upon waking, I got a call from one of the girls saying none of them would be joining us on the ski slopes. Hesitating to go alone with five guys I still decided to go since I had new skis that had never been used and it was the last ski day of the season. Plus, I was curious about this Gary.

The guys arrived outside my dorm. I only knew three of them so was unsure who Gary might be but the driver stepped out of the car looking like “Mork” dressed in ski pants and rainbow suspenders with buttons on them just like Robin Williams! It took a half an hour to confirm he was indeed Gary Wood. He stole my heart that day with his patient ski instruction as I was a fairly beginning skier. A perfect gentleman who treated me like a princess.

It took him two weeks to get the guts to ask me out and the rest is history. The next two years were trying for me in so many ways, but I was stretched and challenged to really put God first in my life. I would end up running for Miss Boise, winning and being in the biggest tug-of-war with God pulling me upward and the “nameless enemy” pulling me down.

God won! Gary was faithfully forgiving, and we both drew a line in the sand for our love for each other and our commitment to Jesus when we married in 1983.

~

            My greatest desire in my life work was to be a stay-at-home wife and mother, but our finances would not allow for this. Gary’s dream job with the power company would require he work in power plants for a few years. When a job finally came open to work in Hell’s Canyon on the Snake River, Gary got it. This job was the answer to my lifelong prayer to be able to stay home with our children.

            For eighteen months our life was living an extended honeymoon in the wilderness. We learned to experience the Idaho and Oregon outdoors with camping and reservoir swimming adventures. Living out in the middle of nowhere, Gary and I grew closer in our marriage as we were away from our parents and families.

After sixteen months of adventures, another job came up. I was eagerly expecting our first child in six months, so the move to a town that had a hospital closer than 75 miles sounded very appealing. Friends of ours attended a church that needed a choir director which sparked my passion and sounded like a nice diversion to my lonely days at home. So, we moved to Kimberly, Idaho. The village power plant families were amazing, and the church welcomed us warmly. It was my 25^th move in my 24 years and I soon realized this time I really felt I had moved to the next best thing to Heaven.

In 1987, God brought Shawn into our hearts and home. In a new community of friends and with Gary’s family now only two hours away, we couldn’t be happier. My experience in helping with my little brother, Matthew, made the transition to motherhood so smooth and fulfilling. Shawn was such an easy baby. I learned having a child was a bond deeper than I had ever imagined. Someone at church told me to take moments each day and look into my baby’s eyes and just enjoy his presence. I took her seriously and, starting with Shawn, spent many moments just absorbing my children into my heart, something I am now so thankful I did. Shawn was so happy and a fast learner. He seemed extremely smart and satisfied. His laid-back way of life made me want to continue to have children. I thought if they could all be like him, I’d for sure have six babies.

Our roots continued to grow in Kimberly. I did work part time work, substituting, piano teaching, and in the music and youth ministry at church. Two years into my parenting role, God blessed us with another pregnancy.

This second child let us know from five months into the pregnancy he would be the opposite of his brother. From the very beginning I knew he had the personality of Tigger from Winnie the Pooh combined with the drummer “Animal” from the Muppets. Where Shawn’s womb movements were strong, slow and assured, like his personality, this second child’s were bouncy, rocking and punchy. I announced early on that, girl, or boy, this one would be a drummer. 

Many of our friends were allowing God to plan their families and not use birth control. Gary and I had only talked about having two kids until we experienced parenthood further. While I still liked the idea of having six children, I had also learned that I wanted God to clearly tell me what to do and not just follow the local status quo. I knew that not everyone was called to have a whole passel of children.

Seven months into this pregnancy, I received a call, that a little boy from one of the other power plants had been killed in a car accident. Kurt and Jonie and their three blond boys, Derek, Caleb, and Bryce had been introduced to me once while living in Brownlee while they visited a neighbor of ours. Their middle and second son, Caleb, three years old, was killed on their way to a family wedding. A hopeful day of joy suddenly turned tragically sorrowful. As I contemplated this sadness, Taylor, not knowing he would be a boy yet, strongly quickened in my womb. It was like Elizabeth experienced as her soon to be born son, John the Baptist, quickened as she greeted Mary who was carrying Jesus. Remembering the observations, I’d made throughout my life of families who lost children, I immediately thought, “We must have more children than this. If I lost this child, I wouldn’t want Shawn to be alone.” It was a done deal; I knew that no matter what we would have more than two children. My thoughts left to God’s will, I went on praying daily for Kurt and Jonie’s loss, some days imagining walking through that journey myself. We ended up moving back to Hell’s Canyon where Jonie became one of my good friends that would later prove to be a faithful empathizing prayer warrior for me.

Chapter 4 – Copyright 2023 – Carla J Wood

Hope in Heaven First

“The first requirement to be ‘realistic’ is to have seen the ultimate reality.”
~ Juan Stam, Apocalipsis

Not too long after my hospital stay, we moved again to a town north of Seattle, which would set the stage for a firmer fixation on God’s big picture and his power available to us in all situations in our lives. What I learned in the next two years of my life would develop further what some may call a “Pollyanna” look on life. Recent and further reflection has shown me this constant search for God in everything and seeing his power proved to be crucial in my adult life. Having great faith prepared me to be able to handle what it truly means to be human.

This next move involved living with my grandmother again for a few months while my parents found a place to live in our new town. The experience continued a pattern that would remain consistent throughout my life – lots of moving, discord in my parents’ marriage, and general upheaval. It was difficult for me in those early years to switch schools and homes so often, but it eventually would prove to be a blessing as I learned to make friends quickly and developed many precious lifelong relationships as well.

God continued to encourage the habit of looking for the positive and his fingerprints in all the good and bad my life. At the same time, I began a habit of neglecting to grieve my losses in my moves and my relationship with my mom, some which eventually built up without resolve until later in life. While many people are imbalanced by falling heavy into grief in our earthly states, I did the opposite, and looked forward to Heaven and eventually thinking I could fix earth as well. He knew I would have to, one day, deal with the griefs in my life, but he also knew, as a child, I needed the foundation of an eternal heavenly perspective to be developed well before I needed to learn to deal with grief.

In March, we found a rental in north of Seattle, and I began attending my third school of third grade. I was beginning to realize that a new school could mean a new adventure and finding more people to love for Jesus. Our new church showed our family much grace and love as well, along with some exciting Bible teaching. After attending for just a couple of weeks, a family with two children around my age invited our family to dinner after church. I had no idea how large a role in my life Bud and Nan Childs would play, although I only spent a few visits with their family.

While we ate in their elegant dining room, I noticed on their wall a picture of a peacefully sleeping baby. I remember thinking it was uniquely set apart from the rest of the family pictures. My mom apparently had the same thought, because while doing dishes she asked which of the two children was in that picture. Nan explained that it was their son who had died as a toddler from a childhood disease. I was standing near the picture, listening as Nan told the sad story, all the while absorbing the hope and strength she got from Jesus as she walked through life without that precious baby.

Noticing her peace and trust in God, I distinctly remember thinking, “When”– not if – “I lose a child, I want to be like her.” Bud and Nan soon left for the mission field, yet they started a pattern that would repeat in my life as I observed how different people handled the loss of loved ones – especially children. With a peaceful attitude, I began to believe I would lose a child someday, so I was very aware of the difference between those who rested in Jesus and those who did not. Starting with Nan, each grieving smile of hope, each word of faith and trust, each vision of Heaven, every treasure, I would tuck away in my heart, soul, and spirit.

From that night on, anytime I went to a cemetery, I wandered away from our family to look for gravestones of children and pray for their families. At each grave, I’d wonder if I might have to visit the grave of my own child and thought about how it might feel to bury a child. I’d play out the story in my head of how I’d cling to Jesus to heal the incredible pain I was already beginning to feel. Even at a young age, more than anything, I wanted a large family and wanted to be a devoted mom to my kids, so I knew I’d need Jesus in a big way.

~

My mom struggled in so many ways, yet she always pointed me to Jesus and taught me to pray with faith. Shortly after the move North, since the previous landlords’ piano did not move with us, we began wondering if we would ever have piano lessons again. Mom told us, “If God wants us to have a piano, we will get one! I don’t know how, but he can do anything. Let’s pray!” So, we prayed – for about a week.

Then Mom got a call from an old friend, who, not knowing our prayers, asked if we would like a piano. She knew of an upright piano that was available for only $50 – gas money to move it. Stunned, Mom caught her breath and, of course, said yes. We all did a little happy dance and praised God! Our parents scraped together the $50 (which included some spare change my sister and I found in my dad’s recliner). To top it off, when our pastor’s wife heard about this miracle, she offered to give us free lessons. God was so good – and my faith grew enormously again.

So many special memories were made through that old piano. Bach and Beethoven, In the Garden, and The Entertainer sounded amazing on that tall black instrument, but my favorites were the Christmas carols. I heard Silver Bells, The Christmas Song, and Carol of the Bells for the first time on those keys.

Although eventually we would sell the upright and purchase a spinet piano, the seeds planted from those early days bloomed into a lifetime of music for my sister Carolyn and me, including my music teaching career. Every time I see an old upright piano, it reminds me of God’s loving and careful attention to our smallest desires, as well as our biggest dreams.

~

My sister and I spent most of our summers at Grandma’s. She always had a wading pool at the end of her slide on the swing set which was a source of great enjoyment for us and our cousins. Her beautiful half acre lot in the middle of Seattle was a little oasis with a rose garden and a camellia tree which grew into a cave-like shape that created a hollowed-out fort for us.

My grandmother didn’t talk about God, and I was never sure what she thought about Jesus, but she didn’t mind me talking about him. Bored one afternoon, I asked her if I could read some of her grown up books. Going into the fourth grade, an avid reader, I felt ready to tackle something more challenging. She said I could read anything in the basement bedroom. My dad and his brother had grown up in that large room paneled with cedar, and it was full of books – a reader’s “heaven.”

I’m not sure how many I thumbed through to begin with, but I finally was drawn to a book authored by Dale Evans Rogers. She and her husband, Roy Rogers, were in some of my favorite old movies and I knew they were Jesus followers. I remember being happy that Grandma had a book written by a Christian author and actor.

The small book, Angel Unaware, was about their little girl, Robin, who had Down’s syndrome and died at the age of two. Already intrigued with eternity, I was drawn deeply into the story as it was partially fictitiously told from Robin’s standpoint, in Heaven. I sat in that cedar-scented room reading it from cover to cover. Close to dinnertime, I finished and went up to eat. Grandma remarked that I must have found a good book and was astonished to hear I had finished it already. A gentle smile graced her face as I told her the title and she responded that she liked it too. I was so comforted knowing she had read a book about Heaven. From that little book, I was forever convinced that we didn’t need to be sad when anyone died and went to be with Jesus.

That same summer, my growing desire to learn more about Heaven and to love God more became a huge source of comfort as I watched storms brewing in my parents’ marriage. I saw early on that Mom was emotionally volatile and it scared Dad so he would pull away. I felt safe reading the Bible and longed to be closer to God. If I was home my time was spent reading a book or my Bible or playing LP vinyl records and singing my heart out to Donny and Marie and John Denver. My parents loved me, I knew this, but even at that young age I could tell their marriage problems kept them from knowing how to love me the way I wanted to be loved. A deep desire to see the hand of God in every life circumstance grew in my heart. When there was evidence of God’s face I was elated as if I had experienced a miracle. When situations didn’t make sense, I searched deeper and prayed until God gave me peace. I began to listen intently at church and Sunday school and in my Bible reading for answers to help me get closer to God.

One Sunday, I heard in church that if we read the last book of the Bible, Revelation, we would be blessed. Revelation 1:3 (NIV) says, “Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy and blessed are those who hear it and take to heart what is written in it, because the time is near.” Carolyn and I were latch-key kids during the school year and part of the time in the summer, often with whole days to ourselves. So, on a summer day my audacity rose and I sat six-year-old Carolyn down at the kitchen table and informed her we were going to get that blessing and read aloud Revelation together! I think we did it in two days. Despite being so young and Revelation being perhaps the most difficult Bible book to understand, I remember seeing that vision of end times, Heaven and the new Earth, the Lamb, Jesus going to the throne being the only one who could open up the scroll, thinking about how sad it would be for those who did not trust Jesus, and realizing I did not want anyone I knew and loved to miss out. Heaven and the New Earth became a real place deep in my being. Even more than ever, I wanted to tell others about Jesus.

Sr. Juan Stam explains so well the effect seeing God’s fingerprints in my young life and reading Revelation had on my young heart, in his Spanish commentary of Revelation, Apocalipsis – Tomo 1 (capitulos 1 al 5), “The constant human temptation is to see our immediate reality as the final reality and to suppose or fear the grand truths of the faith are remote and small or secondary to the force of history. This we wrongly call ‘being realistic, with our feet firmly on the ground.’ But John reveals to us here that, if our eyes are not firmly fixed in the ultimate reality of the throne and its occupant, then our feet will never be ‘firmly set’ on the ground. The first requirement to be ‘realistic’ is to have seen the ultimate reality. (Juan Stam, page 198, English translation by Douglas Gamble)

God continued in my early years, with this foundation of faith and his reality, to challenge me and prove to me, even more, his power and love. There would be a day when he would help me learn what it means to be human with my feet on earth, but first he helped me fix my eyes firmly on the eternal.

Chapter 3 – Copyright 2023 – Carla J. Wood

The Great Faith Adventure Begins

Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity.

2 Timothy 4:12

As the next school year drew to a close, a family from our church asked if we would rent their house while they went to New Mexico for a couple years. They would store most of their furniture but leave their piano so I could take lessons from our church pianist. I was so excited! I had watched Lawrence Welk every Saturday night, many times at Grandma’s, drinking root beer floats and munching popcorn, dreaming of being a singer and piano player. Now I could finally have piano lessons. The house also had a fire pit, swing set, four-person teeter totter that moved around when you went up and down, a drinking fountain and trees to climb. Could life get any better than this?

Third grade started that fall at my new school, with an evening roller skating field trip for the whole school. My parents dropped me off and were to pick me up two hours later. I have always been a dreamer. Loving anything musical, I daydreamed I would immediately be a perfect roller skater (despite having never been on skates before), that I would then be encouraged to switch to ice skating, then move right into the Olympics and win a gold medal. Sadly, before I had even circled the rink twice, I ran into someone else and fell with my left leg twisted underneath my body like a pretzel. Excruciating pain erupted – like firecrackers going off inside my leg – and my crying soon brought my teacher and the roller rink manager to my side, along with more than a few gawking fellow students. After eyeing my twisted leg, and straightening my leg, the manager advised my teacher to get me home immediately as it looked serious.

At home I encountered a “girl who cried wolf” situation. As I had been known to carry on and over-complain about various mild scrapes and bumps, Dad said they would wait until morning to take me to the doctor. That night was the longest night of my life. No matter which way I moved, it hurt.

In the morning, Mom took me to the hospital for x-rays. The doctor pulled her into the hallway to tell her the news privately. I had two fractures in my left leg needing to be set. Mom was horrified that they hadn’t believed my complaining!

The doctor told me that they were going to help me go to sleep, and that when I woke up I’d have a cast on my leg. This was exciting news, as I’d always wanted to have a cast for people to sign. So, smelling ether, I eagerly began counting backwards from 100. When I woke, my hand immediately went to my left leg, to see if the cast was indeed there. It was! But my mom was nowhere in sight. I was told she’d had to go to work, as she had just started a new job and they wouldn’t give her time off.

Feeling totally abandoned, I felt tears welling up at this unwelcome news. In those days, hospitals tended to keep children one or two nights for the type of injury I’d had, and parents generally didn’t stay overnight with them. I was sure I did not want to stay without my parents. But I did know that Jesus was with me, so I prayed, and felt myself “toughen up” a bit.

I shared the room with three other girls. Two of them had just had their tonsils out and the one next to me was going to have eye surgery to correct her crossed eyes. I took it upon myself to help call the nurses when they were crying or feeling sick. The little girl who was to have the eye surgery told me her parents were getting a divorce and she was very sad. I prayed for her, too.

To keep myself busy, I made cards for each of the girls in my room. I was disappointed when my mom called and said she couldn’t come see me but that she would be picking me up when I was ready to go. Feeling sad, I remembered the story of Paul and Silas in prison, in Acts 16:16-40 just the Sunday before. If they could praise God while they were scared and lonely in prison, surely, I could praise him in the hospital. I didn’t understand why my parents weren’t visiting me, but I did know I could trust God to help me be brave and help me share his love with others.

“Dear Jesus, please show me how to love others for you in this place and please help me not to be so lonely and sad.”

The next morning, a tiny, cheerful lady with bright red hair came into my hospital room and introduced herself. This physical therapist said she was going to help me learn how to walk on crutches. My leg was still hurting, so I wasn’t sure that I wanted to learn about crutches then and there, but I thought I should at least try to be brave. As soon as my leg came down off the bed, it landed on the floor with a loud THUD. My involuntary scream both scared my roommates and embarrassed me!

I immediately discovered that this cast was very heavy – not surprising since it covered my entire leg. She patted my back gently and encouraged me to go slowly. As I hobbled slowly down the hallway, I became aware of several more hospital rooms inhabited by what seemed to be very sick children. I could hear the sound of crying coming from one of the rooms, and my heart hurt for the other kids.

The physical therapist realized I was exhausted and brought a wheelchair to finish the return to my room. As she lifted me into my bed, I had an idea about using that wheelchair – would I be allowed to wheel myself to those other hospital rooms and ask the parents if I could pray for their kids? I asked her, and she said she’d ask the charge nurse.

I was nervous, thinking I may have asked a weird question. But my courage came back as the nurse returned the wheelchair to my bedside. She told me she thought I might be an encouragement to the parents but cautioned me to make sure I had permission before going into their rooms.

As I ate lunch before going on my prayer adventure, I asked Jesus to help me not say anything stupid! Upon finishing my macaroni and cheese, I promptly hit my buzzer and asked to be helped into my new “prayer-mobile”.

The first room I visited was dark. A mother sat with her head bowed next to a small red-faced little girl asleep in the bed. I approached very slowly and asked the mother what was wrong with the baby. Looking unsure as to why I was there, she hesitantly explained how the girl had pulled a hot pot of water off the stove and burned herself. As she told me what happened, the mother began to cry. I asked if I could pray for her daughter, and she agreed.

“Dear Jesus, please help this little girl get better and help her mommy to not feel so bad.”

I left the mother quietly crying as I moved out and on to my next assignment, a room with a sleeping young boy, with parents sitting in different corners of the room. When I asked to come in, the dad gruffly replied, “What do you want?” I very nervously explained I wanted to pray for his little boy and asked what was wrong. The father was less patient than the parent in the first room had been and informed me it was none of my business – but that he supposed a prayer wouldn’t hurt.

Very nervously and quickly I prayed, “Dear Lord, please help the boy!”

Moving as fast as I could to the door, I wasn’t sure I should attempt the last room. But remembering that Jesus was with me and determined to finish my mission, I breathed a little prayer of my own – Jesus, please don’t let these people be grumpy.

A soft light in the corner of this room shone on a crib covered by a clear plastic tent. A sweet-looking baby inside was dressed in a pink nightgown and had tubes going into her. The parents sat close by, the mother holding the baby’s tiny fingers under the tent and resting her head on her husband’s shoulder. As I approached, he looked up and said hello to me, and as I absorbed his kind voice and the peace in the room, all my fear ebbed away. I told them my name and asked what was wrong with their baby.

The mom smiled at me and explained that her daughter had pneumonia, a terrible disease for one so young, and how it required the oxygen tent. These people were so nice to me that I was very glad to ask if I could pray for their baby, and they gratefully accepted my offer.

“Dear Jesus, please take away the sickness in this little baby’s lungs and help her to breathe. Please help her mommy and daddy not to be scared.”

Looking up to see smiles and teary eyes, I knew Jesus and I had done the right thing, although I wasn’t sure how much I had helped. But I was confident Jesus would do the rest of the work. The mom and dad both encouraged me to come back the next day to see them.

The next morning, I was gently awakened by the parents of the baby with pneumonia. The mom had tears glistening in her eyes and I was afraid her baby had died. However, handing me a vase with a pink rosebud, the dad said they wanted to thank me for praying for their baby. The doctors had expected she would be in the hospital for at least a week – but she had miraculously been healed overnight and they were able to take her home!

The parents told me that they were Christians too, and that they knew that Jesus brought me to help them pray for their little girl. They wanted me to know that God had used me and my faith to encourage them and to help heal their baby.

After they left, I stared into space, amazed that just a little prayer and a little courage with Jesus could actually make a difference. For the first time in my life, I knew that God was super real. I also realized that He had answered my prayer to be with me, take away my loneliness, and help me to be like Paul and Silas. Wow, it didn’t matter how young I was. He was great and adventures with Jesus were going to be awesome!

While I was sitting in my bed smiling at Jesus, a nurse came in and told me if I could pass my crutches test, my parents could take me home that night. The physical therapist came back and helped me maneuver the crutches and my heavy leg down the hall, and I passed. As I left, the nurses thanked me for visiting the other families and told me all the children were doing a little better. I left the hospital in wonder at the great things Jesus and I could do together! Life with Jesus was more than a free ticket to Heaven; it was an adventure.