Secrets

It was a Sunday like every other Sunday back when I was in Junior High.   I attended Northeast Assembly of God church in Fresno.  In order to get to go I had to ride the church bus.  It was about an hour ride since I was the first stop and there were a lot of kids that got picked up for church on this particular bus.  Henry Tong was the bus driver and had been since I started attending during the summer before the 5^th grade.  I remember being one of the oldest kids on this bus and was proud when Henry let me assist in leading Sunday school songs to younger passengers.  I got to be his helper until he got married to the lovely and sweet Laurie.  At first I missed being the bus helper but when Laurie started teaching us wonderful things of God, I quickly got over myself. 

Today’s lesson was not the typical lesson.  Today Laurie taught on the meaning of names and brought a Baby Name Book to tell each of us what of our names meant.  I was not particularly excited to participate as I never could find my name on anything that kids with normal names could.  I really didn’t want to hear how she couldn’t find my name in her book.  However that wonderful lady didn’t care that I immediately threw up my wall of attitude as she looked up my name without waiting for me to ask.  I learnt that my name Joela derived from the name Joel meaning Proclaimer of God.  That was the day that I fell in love with my unique name. 

Before that day I hated my name.  I hated that people couldn’t pronounce it.  I hated that people couldn’t spell it correctly.  I hated being teased with the different things that cruel kids can do to a name.  What I hated the most was what my mother would tell people when they would ask how she came up with my name. 

My mother had her secrets.  As a kid you don’t think that your mama has secrets because what on earth could she possibly ever do that would warrant the need to keep secrets.  Sure there are the secrets of being a female that are kept from the men folk as not to damage their psyche, but in general moms, good or bad, really didn’t require the need for them.

Looking back I am stunned that a woman who died at 45 could possibly have so many.  At first I was upset thinking how it was unfair that she died taking all her secrets to the grave with her.  However now I feel that her secrets were mainly unfair to her.  How awful to go through life feeling like you can’t tell anyone anything because of your past.  It pains me that she felt that she needed to keep things of her past buried so deep that digging a hole to China would have been an easier endeavor.  June Cleaver she was not but she wasn’t Ma Barker either.  Personally I always liked to think of her as more of a Lucy Ricardo with her twin being Ethel Mertz.  They would get into enough mischief to get into trouble but nothing that required the blood covenants that ran rampant in the family.

How could the true story of my name be something so terrible that my own mother thought it better to make up a lie to cover it up?  The lie had become second nature to her and it flowed out of her mouth so easily as if she believed it to be true.  I was horrified when people would ask the origin because then I would hear, “Oh I got it off a bar napkin.”   Really, now there is something to be proud of.

Well as you can imagine that didn’t set well with me, especially in grade school.  I was embarrassed that not only was my mother a drunk, she was a braggadocios drunk.  What did I do, I made up my own version.  I told people that my parents wanted a boy and they were going to name him Joe.  I surprised them by being a girl and since we lived near LA in southern California, they added the LA to the end of JOE to make it JOELA. 

My made up story wasn’t far from the truth.  When I was 21, 5 years after my mother’s death, my oldest cousin Janet called me.  Janet was near my mother’s age and they were close in their younger years.  After the normal small chit chat she got down to the business of her phone call.  She asked me, if my mama had ever told me the true reason about my name.  As I sat there praying that she wasn’t going to tell me that the bar napkin crap was true... I simply replied, “No.”  As I held my breath with the building excitement mixing well with anxiety, Janet asked if I had ever heard of Joe Barrera. 

My mind flashed back to the treasure I found in my baby book my mama kept hidden.  As I held my baptism certificate and baby book I asked my mama if Joe Barrera was my dad.  You would have thought I had uncovered her version of the Watergate scandal as she quickly took the newly found items away.  She started yelling at me that I was the bastard of James Kinum and told me to leave well enough alone.

Janet said something to bring me back to our phone conversation and I confessed to her that yes I knew of the name.  She began to tell me that mama and Joe got together months before my birth.  He was there when I was born and was named after him.  They did in fact only have a name picked out for a boy.  His name would have been Joel Charles.  Charlie was an elderly gentleman that was nice to my mama and she planned to honor him with my middle name.  However, low and behold, I was a girl.  So Joe being of Spanish origin added the “a” at the end to turn Joel feminine making Joela.  They took Charles and my mother’s name Ilene to make CHarlene that I pronounce SHarlene.  Joela Charlene rolls off the tongue better. 

Janet didn’t only call to tell me about my name.  She called to tell me that Joe had started adoption proceedings prior to mama leaving him.  I began to hear how drinking was more important for mama than settling down to create a stable family environment.  This was no real shocker for me because since the 1^st grade I was being left alone so she could go out drinking at her favorite honky tonk.

I kept quiet as my cousin told me how Joe has always kept up on my life via the family in Southern California.  The real surprise of the whole conversation was that Joe wanted to meet the child that was named after him and still considered his little girl.  Not only did I now have the truth about my name but all of a sudden I had a dad that I longed for.

As I wrote the above story for my writing class I was astonished how mama’s secret and the little lies to keep them, had hurt me.  Then I thought about mama thinking she had to lie to keep those secrets.  How it must of hurt her heart to think her life was so terrible that she had to lie about it.

I believe, like un-forgiveness left in your heart, secrets too can burden and hurt you.  My mama liked to bury the past so that the current boyfriend never knew about the past ones.  Not sure if that is because of jealousy of the current boyfriend, or if she was ashamed of her history or really what the reason was.  

My name and Joe Barrera was just the first secret that had been uncovered after her death.  It is true that not everything needs to be shared, but how silly was this whole matter of my name?  She did more damage to me and herself by burying it.

I pray that if you have secrets that are being a burden to you go to God and lay them at His feet.  

Until next time, God Bless!!!