Hannah: Drugs, Despair, and the Dogged Grace of God

By Elizabeth Ellen Ostring

Hannah is the true story of a woman who grew up in a dysfunctional family and overcame significant learning disabilities, drug addiction, and relationship tragedies to finally discover the power of Jesus Christ and her worth and purpose as a child of God. She found that religious ritual did not answer the yearning of her heart, and relationships were not an answer either. Against all odds she obtained a university degree in Chinese and thought she had found meaning in her teaching service for others. But robbed of this by severe ill health, she discovered true meaning comes from knowing God and being available for him to use to share the good news of Jesus with others.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Resource Publications
• Release date: May 3, 2024
• ISBN: 9781725290662

Elizabeth Ellen Ostring

Elizabeth Ostring is retired musculoskeletal physician who joined the ranks of theologians later in life. She admits to a strong interest in people and their lives, and how theology impacts their ordinary every day life. She loves writing and reading, and various handicrafts. She is senior elder at her church and holds regular Bible studies in person and by zoom.

Book preview

Godless

Hannah wrapped the piece of apricot lace around her Barbie, imagining it was the elegant bridesmaid dress she had watched Mother make. Mother made bridal wear for important people, and sometimes she threw Hannah scraps of pretty fabrics. She never asked Hannah what she did with the fragments, but Hannah thought they were priceless treasures, turning Barbie into a pop star, a princess, or some other irresistibly important person. Hannah was not important, but with imagination, Barbie could be all that her mistress dreamed of being.

Chantelle flounced into the bedroom. Still not ready? she scolded her little sister. You’ll be in trouble again if you don’t hurry!

Chantelle walked out, swishing her best Sunday dress provocatively. Hannah pulled a face and said nothing. Hannah adored her big sister, but sometimes she was too bossy! No one listened to Hannah, except Barbie. Barbie listened beautifully, but never said anything back, which didn’t give Hannah much practice with talking. But then, no one did much talking in her family, except Chantelle.

Chantelle pranced back. I told you you’d be in trouble! she announced triumphantly. Mum says we’re both to go to the kitchen now! Right now! You better move!

Hannah dropped Barbie unceremoniously, pulled off her nightgown, and hastily dragged her best yellow dress over her head, hoping that would stop Mum giving her sour looks. Silently she followed her sister into the kitchen.

Mother was still wearing the soiled, faded, dressing gown she had worn when she served breakfast. Father, as usual, was surrounded by mugs drained of the strong black coffee which he drank copiously of every morning. Mother’s red eyes suggested she had been crying. Hannah could see pain in them as her mother struggled to speak. Dad glared and growled, Get on with it, Marie, then leave me alone!

Mum sat on a chair suddenly, and grabbing a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, pulled one out, lit it, and began smoking furiously. Perhaps smoking gave her a reason not to speak.

I said get on with it, Marie! Father growled again. Reaching over he grabbed her cigarette and began puffing on it himself. You can have this back when you’ve done it!

For a moment the frightened girls expected their mother to cry, or at least protest about her stolen cigarette, but she did not. She tossed her head angrily, smoothed her drab dressing gown as though the gesture would make her look elegant, and kicked her slippers under the table.

Girls, she said, her voice slightly shaky, we won’t be going to church today. Your father decided we won’t attend church anymore. Now, you can go to Sunday School on your own, if you want to.

She leaned back, exhausted. Father returned the cigarette to her, and she smoked deeply.

Both girls stood speechless.

Go! said Father, dragging the last cup of coffee towards him. When the girls hesitated, he hissed, Get out, I said!

Stunned, the sisters walked out of the kitchen where the messy remains of Weetbix and toast were still on the table, and slowly to their bedroom.

Do you want to go? To church, I mean, said Chantelle.

Hannah said nothing as she pushed the bedroom door open. What was the point? If they went to church it would only happen if Chantelle decided to go.

Seems you don’t want to, and neither do I, responded Chantelle. I don’t know what’s wrong with them! Chantelle sat on her bed suddenly. Look, church might be a bit boring sometimes, but I thought Mum enjoyed talking to her friends there. At least, I do, and now I can’t! She shook her head angrily, paused, and looked into Hannah’s wide eyes. Hannah was shocked by the pain in her normally strong sister’s face. But Chantelle’s next words stopped all kindly thoughts. Stop staring at me you dope! Go play with your doll, and take that good dress off!

Slowly Hannah walked across to her bed. But she did not take her yellow dress off, and she did not pick up her doll. She thought of Susie, the pretty Sunday School teacher, and wondered if she would miss her. Hannah loved Susie. She always smelt nice, like a garden, and her lovely bouncy curls were a source of deep envy. But most of all Susie was always pleased to see Hannah and made her feel special. There were plenty of other children in the Sunday School, so Hannah decided Susie would not notice her absence, but she felt very sad that she would not see Susie again and could not say goodbye. Worse, she had no idea what to do about it, because she had no idea where Susie lived.

And what about God? Susie said God would look after them because they were his people. But if you didn’t go to church, did that mean you no longer belonged to God? After all, church was God’s house, and if you never visited him then you wouldn’t be his friend, would you, and so he wouldn’t look after you anymore either. And if you didn’t belong to God, who would look after you? God was a bit scary. There were lots of things he did not like small five-year-old girls to do, it seemed, but he sounded like a comforting sort of something, and yes, Susie was always very sure that he was the one who did all the real looking after of people. Mum and Dad both seemed to think looking after children was a very troublesome activity, not one they enjoyed. But they would have to take over the job completely if God was not going to do it anymore.

Hannah liked God’s house. It was a pretty place, with windows gleaming beautiful colors when the sun shone through them. For a moment she considered going to church on her own—after all Mum said she could if she wanted to—but then she knew it didn’t really mean she could go all by herself, but only if Chantelle went. Church was a quiet place, and the noises there were pleasant. Sometimes the organ was a bit loud, but usually it was soft and soothing. Yes, Hannah decided, she really wished she could say goodbye properly to Susie, and to God and his house. She also wished she could ask God and Susie whether it was possible that someday she could come back, just occasionally, for a visit. Hannah thought of the times, the happy times, when she was very little, when Mum would come into her room at night and have prayer with her. That hadn’t happened for a long time, but maybe if the right moment came she could ask Mum to do it, and maybe that would make God happy, and he would continue looking after them.

Hannah picked up Barbie and unwound the apricot lace. You know, she confided to Barbie, "there’s one place I really, really wish Mum and Dad would tell me I didn’t need to go to anymore. School!"

Barbie stared back, her long golden hair and bright blue eyes so different from Hannah’s dark tangles and soft brown eyes.

"I hate school! declared Hannah vehemently and gave Barbie a hard squeeze. Nothing I do there is ever right! It’s a horrible place! Barbie stared more. And you’re useless! Just useless plastic!" Angrily, Hannah threw Barbie into the corner of the room and closed her eyes to shut out the pain.

Suddenly something brushed her arm, and Hannah shivered with fright. But it was only Nickie, her old tabby cat. Hannah threw her arms around Nickie and buried her face in his soft grey fur. Oh, Nickie, what would I do without you? Nickie’s purr was loud and penetrating as he rubbed himself around Hannah’s small body. She lay down on the bed, and he curled up beside her. Later when Mum walked past the door they looked the picture of dreamtime peace and friendship.

Despite Nickie, however, things at school did not improve, and two years later, just before her eighth birthday, Hannah was taken to the headmaster’s office by her grim-faced mother. It was the first thing Hannah had done with her mother on her own for a long time, the first since her little brother arrived more than a year before. Jack was a sickly baby, in and out of hospital, taking all of Mum’s time. She was devoted to him, but despite all her efforts Jack remained sick. Mum and Chantelle had many heated arguments, but Chantelle was noticed and appreciated by her parents. She was a good student, not like Hannah, and thus Hannah quietly slid into the walls. There were occasional discussions (sometimes angry) over Chantelle’s school reports, but Hannah’s reports were greeted with total silence, or rolling eyes. Chantelle often got angry, and sometimes had fits of weeping when she declared she wished she were dead. Home was not a happy place, and Hannah agreed with Chantelle’s wish, but did not have the courage to express it. She wished she could be brave like her sister and say what she thought.

Thank you for coming, Mrs. Smith, greeted the headmaster, rising from his chair behind his huge desk. Just wait a moment and I’ll call our school psychologist. He offered Mum a stiff, hard-backed chair as he picked up his phone and leaned back into his own large, padded leather seat. But Hannah was left to stand awkwardly in front of great piles of papers which hid the headmaster from her view.

A few minutes later Mr. Gordon came bustling into the room. He was a short man with thick glasses which he constantly took off and polished with his handkerchief, a large red square of fabric. Hannah was fascinated with his eyebrows, very bushy, and rusty red.

Hello Hannah, Mr. Gordon beamed, the only person who had apparently noticed her. So you’ve brought your Mum to talk about your problems!

Hannah hung her head, because whatever her problems were, clearly from Mum’s behavior they were a disgrace.

The headmaster turned to Mum, and leaning forward said wearily, Mrs. Smith, I’m sure you must have realized that Hannah has not been learning as much at school as we would like. Over the three years she’s been here she hasn’t passed a single test in any subject.

It’s such a disgrace, so humiliating, mumbled Mum, adding defiantly, My husband is university trained, you know.

Hannah forced herself to think of something else. To be so hopeless was a terrible disgrace. No wonder her parents never said anything about her school reports!

Yes, yes, so he is, said Mr. Gordon hurriedly, and the headmaster nodded vigorously. Well, I’ve done extensive testing on Hannah, continued the psychologist, and we’ve found the cause of her problem. Hannah has dyslexia. This makes learning to read very difficult for her, and because she can’t read she can’t manage other subjects either. And, she also has dyscalculia, which makes math hard.

You mean she’s an idiot? That she can’t do anything! exclaimed Mum, in a frightened voice.

Total silence followed this outburst. Mr. Gordon’s smile showed far too many teeth, and the headmaster shuffled his papers.

After what seemed a lifetime to Hannah, the headmaster spoke briskly. Mrs. Smith, all Hannah’s teachers will be notified of these, er, um, these unfortunate issues. I will instruct them to try to help Hannah more so she can learn, at least something.

The psychologist again smiled broadly, patted Hannah on the shoulder, and offered his own idea of encouragement. Don’t worry, Mrs. Smith. Hannah is very pretty, and I’m sure she’ll marry. When she smiles, those brown eyes of hers would make anyone melt! She’s capable of doing all the practical things in life, and so you have nothing to worry about for her future.

Mum looked up. You mean all she’s capable of is household drudgery! I hope the school will encourage her practical skills, whatever that means! She’s very quiet at home, spends all her time moping with the cat, and never helps me, so never learns anything. I have no idea how to manage her. I simply can’t help her. All my time is taken with our son, who is very sick.

Both headmaster and psychologist looked at each other and frowned at this declaration. We’ll do our best, they said, almost in unison, as the first rose from his chair, indicating the interview was over.

Suddenly Hannah found her voice, her own very small voice. I can do gymnastics! she declared, defiantly tossing her head with its halo of dark curls. And you know I really can! I really am very good at gymnastics, aren’t I?

Well, well, so you are! You are indeed! Was the headmaster shocked because she spoke, or because she could actually do something?

Mum and Hannah walked home in painful silence. As they reached their gate Mum said, bitterly, I wish I’d never had children, or at least only one. I can cope with Chantelle, but you and Jack are a nightmare! Hannah ran through the door to her room and sobbed into her pillow. A few minutes later Nickie jumped up beside her and began his purring magic.

Mum thinks she can cope with Chantelle, she confided to Nicky between sobs. But whenever Chantelle gets upset and Mum tells her that she’s just like Dad it only makes things worse! We’re just a miserable family! Nicky purred louder, and Hannah fell asleep.

At dinner, Mum reported the school interview to Dad. She’s dumb, announced Mum. Both of them said that! Can’t do anything, and apparently the best thing we can hope for is to get her married as soon as she can. But from my experience, that’s not much for anyone to look forward to!

Dad walked out of the room, scowling. He’d never heard about dyslexia and had no idea what to do.

Hannah spent a long time in the shower that night, and fortunately no one noticed. The warm water was so soothing, so nice. That funny Mr. Gordon with the shaggy eyebrows said she should get married, but to get married you had to find someone to love you, didn’t you? Hannah was not sure anyone loved her, and it was all very scary. Suddenly she remembered she had once heard the preacher say in church that God could wash away all mistakes and make people new. Could God wash away her uselessness? Could he help her be a nice, clean, normal person, not all dirty and worthless? Could he help her learn to read? She bent her head and with all the power and anguish of her almost-eight-year-old heart begged God to make her clean, make her new, let her read.

Very occasionally, maybe a couple of times a year, Mr. Merriman, the minister from church, visited. Chantelle and Hannah loved his visits. He teased and joked with them, made them laugh, and best of all his visits always cheered their mother. When Mr. Merriman came there was always a treat —usually date scones — to enjoy. Hannah discovered the reason for the visits, which was a surprise. Mother remained on the roster to clean the church, and faithfully, one Saturday morning about every three months, she headed to the church and gave it a very thorough clean. Later, when she was older, Hannah went with her mother, to dust the pews and gaze at the pretty lights shining through the stained-glass windows. She longed to ask Mr. Merriman about Susie, but never got the courage to do so.

So, although Hannah was trying to be helpful to God when she dusted the pews and hymnbook racks, she decided he must have either crossed her off his list or was too busy caring for the people who went there