There’s much that goes unsaid in this family. Self preservation? Kindness? NOYB? A lot of each. I’ve spent a lifetime trying to sort it out—not a burden, just food for thought.

This one was pure and simple self preservation — fear of what Dad would do, fear of being loved less because they REALLY loved her.

Summer in Kansas. That week it was the best of times and the worst of times.

Mom only had one sibling — Auntie Irene (Mom always called her R). Charlene was her only daughter, and she could do no wrong. She was also the only granddaughter 51 weeks out of the year.

Charlene and I were the same age and close for once-a-year cousins; we corresponded with each other until she died. Her last letter was the most precious. “Myrna, you know how you and your Dad have told me about accepting Jesus as my Savior? I just wanted you to know that I did that.” Most wonderful letter I ever got.

Back to THAT day. Grandma and Grandpa had a sandbox for us to play in. It was mostly for Charlene and her brothers and had been there a long time. While playing in it, I noticed the edging board was loose; and because I was curious, I wiggled it and lifted it. It came right up out of the ground, but I couldn’t put it back in the same place because the sand oozed in. Not really a big deal, or so it seemed.

Until later, when Charlene stepped on that spot and right down onto an old rusty nail that I had exposed.

Questions abounded about how that board could have got moved. I was a clam! Charlene had to go to the doctor and get a tetanus shot. She was carried around, sat with her foot on a pillow — Queen for a week. Grandma fauned over her, feeling so bad about that old sandbox. And I skulked in the background, filled with shame, paralyzed with fear they’d find out what I’d done to Charlene.

And now, after all these years, my conscious is finally free. I did it! I moved that board. I didn’t know there was a nail. I’m sorry.

Our guilt overwhelms us, but You forgive our sins. Psalm 65:3