My Saviour

My Saviour

Rita Giddings

I dedicate this book to my Mother, who encouraged me in so many ways,

who I love and miss very much, may she rest in peace.

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The names of some locations and people within this book have been changed

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My faith has helped me through many difficulties and given me hope, peace and joy.

I hope that by reading this book that you may also come to know the blessings that our Saviour Jesus Christ can give to you.

Contents

Title Page

Dedication

FORWARD By Father Matthew Pittam

CHAPTER 1 My childhood and a miraculous experience

CHAPTER 2 Saving up for my passion – a horse

CHAPTER 3 The Wedding

CHAPTER 4 My career as an artist

CHAPTER 5 My prayer life became more important to me

CHAPTER 6 Producing dairy-free chocolate

CHAPTER 7 Pesticide poisoning affecting the neighbourhood

CHAPTER 8 The way forward in God’s care

CHAPTER 9 The truth revealed

CHAPTER 10 My husband’s difficulty with alcoholism

CHAPTER 11 The farewell barbeque

CHAPTER 12 God’s compassion and answer to prayer

Copyright

FORWARD

By Father Matthew Pittam

I am glad to be writing this forward for Rita Giddings. Her book is very brave indeed, as it presents to the world the depths of her heart. We are invited to be witnesses of Rita’s journey through life and her walk with God who is ever present as part of this rich and diverse tapestry. What impresses me most about this story is the fact that it does not shy away from the reality that following God can be tough as we face all that the world presents to us. Rita is presented with many trials and tribulations, which would test the faith of many of us, and yet, for her, it enables reflection upon how God sustains her through challenges.

This book could be a great help and aid to those who face a route through life, which is demanding and fraught with setbacks and disappointments. This is especially true as Rita is seen to pick herself up and continue her journey with her faith in God strengthened. There is no trite explanation for the suffering that she experiences but rather an honest and deep reflection on how she has coped with the aid of the gift of faith.

Rita’s story is not one of sadness though. I found despite the difficult issues that this story unfolds, a great and resounding theme of joy and peace. In that sense, it becomes a gentle reflection, which remains accessible to many readers who will surely benefit from the honesty and integrity found in these pages.

Rita is very candid about her relationship with her father. She demonstrates a great love for him, whilst at the same time presenting him as a challenging character on many levels. In today’s world, people often struggle with the concept of ‘God the Father’ because of what is lacking in their own earthly parental relationships. This has led a significant number of people to have doubts or dismiss the possibility of having a loving father. This is not so for Rita who seems to have developed a far more profound relationship with God directly as a consequence of her life experience.

If I were to sum up this book theologically then I would look no further than the words of the Psalmist,

Lord, you have examined me and you know me.

You know everything I do;

From far away you understand all my thoughts.

You see me, whether I am working or resting;

You know all my actions.

Even before I speak,

You already know what I will say.

You are all around me on every side;

You protect me with your power.

Your knowledge of me is too deep;

It is beyond my understanding.

Where could I go to escape from you?

Where could I get away from your presence?

If I went up to heaven, you would be there;

If I lay down in the world of the dead, you would be there;

If I flew away beyond the east

or lived in the furthest part of the west,

You would be there to lead me.

You would be there to help me."

– Psalm 139 Good News Bible

CHAPTER 1

My childhood and a miraculous experience

I was looking after my parents’ bungalow as they were on holiday. It was late summer, a warm cloudy day and the apple tree, which was loaded with eating apples was swaying about in the breeze. Just before the holiday, my father who was a very controlling person, had a difference of opinion with me over my adult children and was angry with me because I did not agree with him. As I was watering the geraniums and tidying up in the kitchen, I bent down to put away some dishes in the cupboard. I gasped with shock as suddenly my back felt as if a knife had been stabbed through it. The pain was horrendous. It took me a while to stand up again and with great difficulty, limp back to the car and return home. I am usually very busy and would not think of going to bed unless I felt really rough but I was laid up for a week with excruciating spasms. When I prayed for an answer as to why I was experiencing this and what on earth I had done, the Lord brought back to me the resentfulness that my father had towards me just before he and my mother went away on holiday. It seemed as though He was telling me that my father had inflicted this torment on me as a punishment. I wondered how this could be possible and continued to pray for an answer. The answer came back that my father was practising witchcraft. I paused for a moment thinking back to my childhood.

When I was a small child, I went to Sunday School each week to the Methodist Chapel in the peaceful little village where we lived. Through this experience, I can remember looking up at the sky one sunny afternoon and being aware, that God was there. Often at night time though, I was fearful about going to bed unless the light was left on, because I had seen strange dark shadowy images lurking in my bedroom. I used to pull the covers right over my head before I felt safe to go to sleep. When I told my Mother, she thought I was imagining things.

On my first day of school, I was energetically running in the playground with some friends and a boy appeared from nowhere and collided with me. I suffered a black eye and had to have a week off school. This was not a very good start and I was upset when I had to go back, but within a couple of months I was enjoying being at school. An older friend whose house was right next to the railway line had taught me to draw trains and as my favourite lesson was drawing and painting they were often the subject of my work.

It was about this time that I had to have my tonsils removed. I was quite anxious about the operation and wondered what was going to happen. I had many nightmares beforehand and was glad when it was over. I remember the kind doctor who said that I was well enough to go home from hospital and what a nice bright cheerful colour my yellow cardigan was that my mum had knitted me.

When I had been at school about two years my teachers moved me up into the next class, as they seemed to think that I was doing very well. I can remember dancing with my friends round the maypole on May Day at school and there was quite a celebration. It was a lovely time of year with all the spring flowers and blossom on the trees.

I felt much more relaxed and comfortable when I was just with my mum because my father was very strict. My mum seemed to be afraid of him and he was treated with respect in our house, as he was quite intimidating. Sometimes there were rows and when he shouted, it sent shivers of fear through me.

My godmother sent me a large colourful book about animals for my birthday. I opened the parcel before I went to school and because I could not bear to leave it at home all day and wanted to look at it. I took it to school to show it to my friends. My mum tried to tell me it was not a good idea in case it was taken. Unfortunately, I did not listen and sure enough it disappeared and I never saw it again. I was heartbroken.

Just before my eighth birthday, we moved from our little cottage in a small friendly village, with its outside toilet and tin bath in front of the fire, to a bungalow that my father had designed and had built in the village where he had grown up. We had a bathroom, which was a luxury. My parents gave me a piano for my birthday and I started to have lessons to play it. I thoroughly enjoyed this and had an encouraging teacher.

My father bought me a little tent and used to put it up on the back lawn. I would sleep in it sometimes during the warm summer nights. As soon as I attended my new school, I was taught by a teacher who had taught my father. I had enjoyed my previous school so much, but here I found that the work was a year behind what I had already covered. I became bored and started to lose interest. I failed my eleven-plus exam and moved up to a comprehensive secondary school where there were grammar and lower stream classes for each year. I was placed in the upper stream of the non-grammar class.

I soon made many friends. I started learning French and really enjoyed school and although I did not struggle with my work and seemed to be getting on well, two weeks later I was transferred to the lowest class in the school. I was quite upset. No reason was given. The teacher in this class took great delight in telling all the pupils that they were the lowest of the low and there was no class in the school lower than ours. This annoyed me and made me determined to do well and prove this teacher wrong. I worked very hard and she never had any reason to complain about me. I especially enjoyed English, art and music classes. I loved writing stories and my art and music teachers were very encouraging and used to praise my work.

At the back of our new home, I could wander through about five meadows, full of buttercups and a little wood at the side of the property undisturbed where Rosebay Willow-herb flowers grew as tall as me. Often horses were put in the field at the back of our home. They used to lean over the fence and eat the peas that they could reach, that my father was growing. He was not too happy about this.

As I arrived home from school one day, I could see that my mother was upset. She told me that she had received some sad news about her brother Alan, who had been diagnosed with stomach cancer. This saddened me because like my mother my uncle was a very kind person, and was a talented artist who shared my love of drawing horses. The family were due to move house so during the summer holidays my mother and I decorated their new home, as my uncle was in hospital and my auntie was busy looking after their three children. When we learnt that the hospital could do no more to help him and he had been sent home we were devastated. I regularly attended the little Methodist Chapel in the village where we lived and I prayed for him to recover. He passed on some months later and we were all deeply saddened.

I enjoyed going to the local riding school every Saturday. I had such fun there and often helped with grooming and tacking up the ponies. My favourite steed was Golden Sovereign, a beautiful chestnut gelding with cream mane and tail. There were some lovely leafy lanes to ride along and fields to canter through. One day I saw a hare racing along in front of us. If help was needed with the sheep shearing, I used to volunteer. I watched the blacksmith shoeing the ponies and was fascinated at how he used red hot shoes, which burnt into the outer part of the ponies’ hooves before nailing them into position, all of which was painless to them because he knew exactly what he was doing.

I got on very well with my cousin Tina who lived nearby and was a year older than I. She was a good friend and always full of fun. I knew that she had been suffering from meningitis and had to stay in a nearby isolation hospital, but thankfully, she seemed to recover. Then without any warning, we received the sad news that she had suddenly been taken ill while out with her parents and had died. I was very shocked and could not take it in. I spent some time at a friend’s house over the next few days, to help take my mind off this terrible shock but it did not work. She was often on my mind.

Soon afterwards, my uncle Len my father’s half-brother died suddenly from a heart attack after chasing some youths who were very unpleasant towards him. His family were very distressed. My father had fallen out with Uncle Len about four years previously. My mother and I found it difficult to understand my father’s sullen moods and family feuds so we decided to go and visit the family and see if we could do something to rectify the problem, agreeing to keep secret our attempts to patch things up. Unfortunately,