FEAR NOT:

Gently mending the orphan spirit

Romans 12:2: “And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.”

One of my go-to lines is still, “I just don’t trust people.” I am tracing the trail of sadness here and some of the ways I have found to come up and out or at least make strong progress. Part of my ministry of sorts on Substack and Notes, is to trace roots of troubles and how, for myself, I have found some ways up and out of them, with God’s help. Even (and especially) at 73, I find I have a sometimes rueful need to share the difficult flounders and flops I have had, in the hope that I can save someone else from unnecessary pain…like “don’t go there, that bridge is out!!”

While I am not naive and despite my deeply emotional and empath nature, I remain a realist. I know the human need to “ process” and stroll again through the memories of what and where and when and how. This is the heart of God and truly a help that never disappears! He just helps you to not “camp out” there. (I am guilty of this and hence, my writing!)

There is a cottage industry in seeming to keep the dysfunction going, with “self-help”, $$ courses, surface promises, marketing a quick fix, “I can fix it for you”, as if we are machines in need of oiling the newest new thing for immediate repair. I certainly have tried many of these things with not such great results.

Gripping in fear is often a default reaction of many of us who feel orphaned.

The unknown, the vulnerability, can truly be ovewhelming to the realm of common sense or feeling functionally grounded in this rough world.

I did not necessarily grow up feeling orphaned, even though I bonded overwhelmingly with my Mom and not much with my Dad. Mom prayed for a daughter after two sons...and I arrived in 1952, better late than never! Dad did not want (any…) more children in his (and Mom’s) very late thirties. Nearly 14 years later, parents separated...see repercussions of that below.

I felt the orphan spirit descend when my Mom died suddenly, overnight of a massive stroke, possibly triggered by her great emotional distress, as Dad came to where Mom and I were living, to tell her he was filing for divorce. Mom wanted me, Dad did not, Mom dies. Dad, to his favor, did not abandon me and kept the basics for me after Mom died...I was just not loved, I was a burden and impediment, still tails me…

Grief landed and made a noxious partnership with Orphan, Inc. Later, when a brother died in Vietnam in 1968, that added to the mix. By then, even though I grew up in the Baptist church with my Mom and loved church, I became a Prodigal to my faith in God and made my way out into the wilderness with no guide. I do not recommend this, not a good plan of action! I am blessed to even be alive.

Orphanhood is like the spirit of grief, it resists letting go and must be mitigated and dealt with...not harshly but with compassion and also dogged persistence.

This is all a part of multiple things...including the Refiners Fire of the Bible ( how God gradually cleans up our spirit of darkness), the heaviness of the spirit of grief and abandonment, and the immense challenge of the transforming of the mind.

Once habits are set, they resist changing and indeed fight back, strangely defending their raw territory. A strange defense, this...

All human beings have been slam-dunked in life, one way or another in both small and large ways. Thete are no “charmed” lives , despite the marketing machine desperatly trying to sell us on on the latest great thing!

Yes, there are ways of helping to deal with the fallout, the messy pile of the wounds of chaos. For me, the fallout was the strange legacy of sudden death on my life, and those ways of helping include steep and deep repentance from Prodigal years, with a broken heart and contrite spirit, and finally “ collapsing on God’s Front Porch” and gradually learning to let the love of God in. I had to begin to actually partner with Him as a conduit for His love and mercy and allow Him access to my shame and fears. NOT quick fixes in any way...but the slowness of one step, one day. As other dear writers here on Substack have said, "tiny steps” do work.

The night of the unexpected overnight death of my Mother when I was less than a month from 14, was one of the handful of surreal nights of my 73 years. She was in serious distress, an ambulance was called, I was not allowed to go along to hospital and I spent part of the night alone.

By morning, she was dead. No goodbyes, no processing, nothing. Gone.

I am pretty certain this is where the orphan spirit landed on me and still negatively affects nearly sixty years later.

Two years later, an older brother is KIA in Vietnam, brought home in a box.

Orphans build an overwhelming WALL around themselves...become experts in primordial DEFENSE. Barriers, walls, boats, (destroyers!!), verbal barbs, cynicism, sharp tongue...all efficiently defending the one shellacked and swamped. “Get away from me, I’m damaged goods!”

Since returning to God in 2002, and over the last recent 8 1/2 years of learning a deeper fellowship with God and His Son, I have more fully recognized my massive fortress of sad...and the inner hold sorrow has on me.

Did I throw the doors wide open?? Nope. Did I take the small steps forward? Yes.

Mom died before I hit major puberty, eighth grade...started my period alone at nearly 15. I navigated boys ( “eww”) alone, slunked through 9th grade alone, an awful year. By sophomore year, Vietnam War was raging, dear older brother dead, life wasted for nothing and major roots of rebellion fully planted, along with a generation. Promiscuous and rebellious behavior for a decade, severe consequences, and what I write about.

No wonder the orphan parked and refused to leave, partnered with sorrow.

Papa God tells me “you are one of My late bloomers”. Initially that phrase He told me several years ago...felt strange and uncomfortable)...and yet in our youth- worshiping culture, Elders are looked down upon and feared. I have found, at age 73, that living so many decades does have some perks in a strange way.

I have a Sister in Christ who is 95. She recently fell ill with flu and landed in ER and hospital. We all began to pray for her, not knowing if God was bringing her Home, a reasonable concern at her advanced age. Well...nope, not yet. Treated in hospital, entered one day in distress...and the next day, turned a good corner. Alive yet for her dear grandchildren...

You cannot outguess God. He knows things and He is willing to share!

I have read plenty of the suffering and traumas of fellow writers here on Substack! Orphans, grief, sudden death, depression, discouragement, illness, fear, doubt, dismay, poverty...nothing fazes God. He told me a couple of nights ago, “ Daughter, I’m in the restoration business!” He can (and DOES: help anyone who will partner with Him and His Son, to come up and out of distresses, one step at a time.

Just ask! Ask and you shall receive! I tell you, as a recovering cynic, asking works, bit by bit!

Wendy Elizabeth Williams Friday, February 13, 2026

P.S. I do recommend the Substack of Jennifer Hacker, a wonderful writer here, who went through sudden death of her infant son, Jackson and has a powerful book about dealing with grief. Contact her, a great and compassionate lady!

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--Consider donating any amount from $1 up on my Ko-fi page at Kofi.com/wendyelizabethwilliams. You can donate one time, periodically or monthly. I am also writing one shorter piece per week on my Ko-fi site, focusing mainly on my lifelong love of all things fabric, garments, beauty, the ancient war between men and women, and sometimes on the visceral and emotional craft of writing… (fun...sometimes...) Each Friday evening after I put my longer weekly piece up on Substack, I then place my shorter Ko-fi piece up on Notes. This week, I am briefly discussing the strange things called “ sumptuary laws”, which in history, had the temerity to tell people, among other things, what they could or could not wear. This involved the element of the valiant attempts to bring enforcement of social structures or hierarchies. I would also assume “not well enforced” is putting it lightly. Title is “Sumptuary laws of garments: I’m Better than you, you can’t wear that.” Yeah, right...good luck with that!

-- Please pray for me! Thank you, Wendy