Happiness: How to Find it
Chapter Two
After field service Rose, her grandmother, and Viola returned to the Kingdom Hall. Because it was a Thursday evening and their was a meeting that night, they didn’t bother to go home, but instead waited at the Kingdom Hall for the rest of the congregation to arrive and looked over the lessons that would be discussed that night at the meeting.
She looked through her June Kingdom Ministry at one of the articles they were to review entitled “Are You Fully Accomplishing Your Ministry?” The first paragraph commented on how Jehovah’s Witnesses were busy people before asking for self-examination: “Can you do more?” the bold-type subheading called out. Rose pondered that question. Her life was busy with theocratic activities like her full-time ministry work, conducting Bible studies with interested ones, and attending meetings. Each of these activities required lots of preparation, rehearsal, and personal study. She also had a small job cleaning the local post office and police station to support her volunteer ministry. She wasn’t sure there was room to do more unless she could figure out a way to share the Good News of the Kingdom with people in her sleep.
Next the article cited the example of Juan, who had a busy life full of needless recreation and entertainment and yet felt empty. It stated that by reaching out to serve as an auxiliary pioneer during his summer break, he regained his joy which lead him to contemplate regular pioneering after he graduated. Rose thought about her own life. She was a pioneer and yet something didn’t feel right inside. As full as her life was in God’s service she felt a bit empty. Even though the article concluded by boasting that Jehovah’s Witnesses were a happy people, sometimes Rose didn’t feel very happy, though she dare never admit that to others.
At a little passed six thirty the rest of the congregation started trickling in, but the extra bodies did nothing to relieve the somber mood that permeated the atmosphere. Their congregation had suffered some serious losses over the past few years. One of the elders, Daryl Jenkins had been disfellowshipped from the congregation, amid rumors of fornication. Another elder, Bill Sholts had suffered a stroke and was now confined to a wheelchair. He could not communicate except for a bell that he would ring twice for “yes” or once for “no”. A family had moved to another town after the husband lost his job and took work elsewhere. There were a couple of other families that were still in the area, but hardly ever came to the meetings anymore. Rose often wondered what their deal was, if they were just spiritually weak or were involved in some kind of wrongdoing. Because she wasn’t an elder, Rose didn’t know if they were still good associations or not and could not call on them to see how they were doing.
The rest of the congregation continued to attend meetings and participate in Saturday field service, but everyone seemed sort of listless. Rose knew that life sometimes could drag people down and did what she could to help by offering upbuilding comments during question and answer portions of the meetings and by setting an example by more fully participating in the door-to-door ministry work. In the last pioneer meeting with the traveling circuit overseer, he had encouraged her to do these things, but despite her efforts the malaise continued. Her congregation felt plagued and she secretly wondered if something was going on to remove Jehovah’s holy spirit, like some secret sin. She even had guilty thoughts about moving to a neighboring congregation hoping to find a more positive atmosphere, though she could never leave her grandmother. Like it or not, she was stuck in Kent Springs. Her constant prayer was that whatever was broken could be fixed and that happiness could fill the air of the Kingdom Hall once again.
As seven o’clock neared, the meeting was called to order and the congregation stood to sing their opening song, number sixteen, “Be Joyful for the Kingdom Hope.” The around forty brothers, sisters, and children in attendance that night, opened their song books and sang along with the prerecorded piano music. The singing was far from joyous and as they sang the second verse, “Be happy! Be happy!” they sounded anything but. Rose loved to sing, but was hesitant to sing out loudly and draw attention to herself. Instead she sang quietly along with the rest of her congregation in a monotone.
Everything that followed seemed so very routine and those that gave talks seemed so very bored with it all. Rose couldn’t help but to feel bored as well, though she tried not to let it show. She kept her eyes glued to the stage and she took notes in her spiral bound notebook. Despite her efforts, her mind kept drifting off to other things, in particular the young man she had called on out in service. There was something shamefully exciting about his attention. It was foolish to think about him though, unless he came into the Truth she could never court someone like him.
Rose stole a sideways glance at Clinton Green who sat in the front row because he was the microphone attendant and was tasked with adjusting the height of the mic stand for the various speakers. Clinton had two suits which he alternated between meetings. Tonight he was wearing his navy blue suit with the tarnished brass buttons on the cuffs. He yawned widely without placing his hand over his mouth. Rose mused he might be able to fit an entire apple in his oversized mouth if he tried. Clinton was anything but exciting. Rose had known him her entire life. The most attention he ever showed her was when they were children and he bullied her mercilessly. Her grandmother prophecised from that moment onward that Clinton liked Rose and would one day marry her. As Rose saw it, she didn’t have much option. As one of Jehovah’s Witnesses she was not to be unevenly yoked in a marriage to an unbeliever and Clinton was the only young man in her congregation as well as the only brother her age that she had any routine measure of contact with. While the idea of getting married one day thrilled her, she didn’t think that Clinton was the answer to her prayers.
By the time the meeting dismissed Rose was very tired from the long day of theocratic activities and exceedingly hungry. She wished that she hadn’t thrown out the olive loaf sandwich, even as disgusting as it was. After the meetings, the crowd was normally very quick to dissipate back to their homes in order to put children to bed, attend to other matters, or just relax. Rose and her grandmother had been out from sunup to sundown in their Kingdom work and would be happy to get home to rest, especially as her grandmother didn’t like being out too late after dark.
Rose was quick to pack up her meeting books and start moving toward the door, but her grandmother stopped her and suggested she should first talk to Clinton about turning over her fledgling Bible student to him. Rose agreed knowing all the while that young man’s likelihood of joining their religion was even more dismal with Clinton taking over the study; field service wasn’t his strong point. However, there was always a chance that the man might continue the study and progress toward baptism. If Christopher came into the Truth maybe they really could date one of these days! Rose stopped this train of thought, reprimanding herself. The important thing was that the young man come into the Truth, not if he dated her. Besides even if the young man ever did become one of Jehovah’s Witnesses, Clinton would have probably already married her. Fortunately, he hadn’t given any indication that he was going to, but Rose feared that her grandmother and Viola were right that it was only a matter of time.
Rose and her grandmother approached Clinton who, catching sight of them, began smoothing back his stringy brown hair.
“Hello Brother Green,” Rose’s grandmother greeted him with dainty handshake.
“Oh hello Sister Ogden,” Clinton said. “Hello to you too, Sister Gluck.”
“Hello Clinton,” Rose said, shaking his wet hand.
“I enjoyed your comment tonight,” Clinton said to her.
“Thank you,” replied Rose. “I enjoyed your Bible reading.”
“It wasn’t nothing,” said Clinton. “Though some of those big Bible names tripped me up. Why didn’t those people have normal names like Jim or Bob?”
Rose laughed, not sure if she was laughing with Clinton or at him. Rose then provided the information about her Bible student, imploring Clinton to call back on him. She handed him the return visit slip where she had dutifully recorded everything she needed about her call: his name, his address, his approximate age, his physical description (leaving out the bit about his tattoo), the dates they had met, the literature she had placed with him, what they had talked about, and ideas for future visits.
“Well have a good night sisters.” Clinton said, mindlessly stuffing the slip into his pants pocket.
Rose sighed as they gathered Viola and walked to the wagon. She doubted if Clinton would even bother to call back on the young man. That was the end of that.
As they drove away, they had the same rote conversation they had after every meeting.
“It was a lovely meeting tonight.”
“They always are.”
“Yes indeed, a fine meeting.”
Rose dropped Viola off at her home in a small group of duplexes on one end of the small Main Street. Saying goodbye, she continued on, outside of town, to the farmhouse she shared with her grandmother. As they neared home, Rose’s stomach rumbled loudly stirring her grandmother, nodding off next to her.
“Hungry are you?”, her grandmother asked. “Fortunately I made some extra olive loaf sandwiches in the refrigerator for a late dinner.”
Rose stifled a grimace at the thought and said she might just get a snack instead. Upon entering the house, she grabbed a bag of store label corn chips, kissed her grandmother goodnight, and went up to her room which was in the second floor. On the way up the steps she past bare spots of unfaded wall where photographs were once hung, but were now long gone.
Once in her bedroom, Rose got undressed and carefully hung her dress up in her closet. She was glad to get out of her restrictive bra and tight panty hose. She pulled on a long oversized t-shirt and got ready to unwind for the evening. Night time was her favorite time of the day. Rose seldom had time to herself and while she enjoyed her grandmother’s company, like her meeting clothes, her grandmother could be rather restrictive. It wasn’t that Rose wanted to do anything immoral, it was just that she wanted to do things without always having to look over her shoulder for fear of her grandmother’s constant tsk-tsking.
From the bottom of the steps, Rose’s grandmother called up, wishing her a good night and reminding her to say her prayers. The old woman rarely came up the steps anymore, especially at night when she was worn out from a long day. Once satisfied that her grandmother was asleep, Rose turned on the small record player she kept in her room. Because they didn’t own a television Rose liked to unwind by listening to records. She placed on one of her favorites, the Carpenter’s album, A Song For You.
She kept the music low so as not to disturb her grandmother from her sleep, but whenever Rose was alone in the house she loved to blast them loudly and sing at the top of her lungs. She thought that she had a pretty good voice, but had no way to know for sure without letting someone else listen to her and give their opinion. Unfortunately there were really no opportunities for her to sing in front of others. She couldn’t join the chorus in school and Jehovah’s Witnesses didn’t have church choirs or anything like that. Some congregations held talent shows, but Jasper Green didn’t approve of them because he felt it stirred up a worldly spirit of competition. Even if they had, Rose was doubtful that she would have the courage to sing in front of people anyway.
As the music played softly in the background, Rose returned to her closet, and reached up into the top shelf, way over to the side where she kept an old shoebox. She had found it when she was thirteen years old and it was her most treasured possession. She carried it over to her bed and opened it. The box had belonged to her mother and was one of the only things to survive the purge when her grandmother had gotten rid of everything belonging to her mother. Rose assumed her grandmother had hoped to wipe the memory away in much the same way that she never mentioned her and bare spots decorated the walls where pictures of her once hung. Viola often commented that Rose looked just like her mother, though Rose had never once found an actual photograph to verify.
The items in the box where not all that special, but Rose love to go through them from time to time. Doing so made her feel connected to the mother she never knew. Rose’s favorite thing in the box was a gold necklace with a small owl charm. She wondered why her mother had felt the need to keep it in the box. Her grandmother didn’t object to jewelry and had always allowed Rose to wear necklaces. Rose thought that her grandmother might believe the necklace to be possessed or something, but more realistically assumed that it must have been given to her mother by a guy. There were two things that her grandmother feared above everything else, demons and young men. If there was a young man, he was an even greater mystery.
Rose knew that the whole subject bothered her grandmother severely. The rare occasions when it was brought up were the only times anything seemed to pierce her grandmother’s stoic exterior. “It was a terrible trial,” was all that her grandmother would say and then add, “but, at least Jehovah gave me you as comfort. Promise me you’ll stick close to Jehovah and his organization.” Whatever it was that had snatched her mother away from Jehovah, Rose hoped that she would avoid it. She couldn’t bear to break her grandmother’s heart. While she was grateful that she could comfort her grandmother and loved her dearly she wished she could have known her mother.
