UNBELIEVABLE Journey with the Lord (A True Story)

By Joani C. Boland

Why would anyone want to buy this book from an unknown first-time author? The answer is simple. If you say to yourself, "This could never happen to me," "I wouldn't be so stupid," or "My faith is so strong that nothing or no one can ever shake it," then this book is for you.

This book is not just for the believers of Christ but also for nonbelievers. No matter what struggles you face--financial, death, faith, loneliness, and the like--there is a living God who loves you no matter what you have experienced or where you are in life. God loves you before you were born.

Many people own a Bible, but it is never read. The book sits on a shelf, collecting dust. My husband Harry and I read and discussed Scripture along with prayer time and reading a daily devotional. In facilitating Bible lessons to small groups in our home, I would always say, the Bible contains all the answers for how we should live our lives. It is a guide to daily living in a fallen world. Think of his commands as a moral compass, as it makes us conscious of sin. So how could this fall from grace happen to a faith-loving Christian like me?

My intent in writing this book is to provide you with the tools and means to give you hope in our troubled world, and to learn how not to become bitter but to forgive, to keep a sense of humor, and to never give up on yourself.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 16, 2024
• ISBN: 9798889430131

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UNBELIEVABLE Journey with the Lord (A True Story)

Joani C. Boland

ISBN 979-8-88943-012-4 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88943-013-1 (digital)

Copyright © 2024 by Joani C. Boland

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

What Is It Like Being Raised in a Serbian Home?

Chapter 2

Occult

Chapter 3

Travels and Adventures in the '60s and '70s

Chapter 4

First Mission Trip (2007)

Chapter 5

Married Life With…

Husband 1—Tony

Husband 2—Harry Boland

Pretend Husband 3—Frank

Chapter 6

Spiritual Awakening and Growth

Chapter 7

Faith Being Tested

Chapter 8

Questions for Readers to Ponder

Summation

Acknowledgments

References

About the Author

To Jesus Christ, the Lord of my life.

Whether or not we realize it, we all leave some sort of legacy when we leave earth. My legacy is this book, which I have dedicated o Jesus Christ—a love story for all generations to read about the faithfulness of God and his steadfast love for all of us. If it were not for him, I would not be here writing this love story. Out of my own tragedy, he has brought me blessings beyond belief. His amazing grace toward me is music to my ears. My eyes now see more clearly, and my heart is filled with more compassion for others.

My hope is that those who do not know him or those who are uncertain of their salvation will be helped on their own journey of finding hope, peace, happiness, purpose, and the certainty of eternal life someplace.

God does not send people to heaven or hell. When we meet Jesus, he will honor our request based on our beliefs, actions, and lifestyle on earth. As it is written, For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because he has not believed in the name of God's one and only son (John 3:17–18 NIV Study Bible).

Introduction

Why am I writing this book, and why would anyone want to read it? The world, especially our United States of America, is in chaos, and God has been taken out or put aside in our daily lives thanks to the media, government, and people of prominence. Is it due to our self-centered lifestyle, lack of faith, and busy schedules leaving little room for prayer while the Bible sits on a shelf collecting dust? Are we allowing the influence of movies, movie stars, politicians, or sports celebrities to dictate how we should govern our lives without examining what is being brought forth? As the Bible states, Everything is permissible for me, but not everything is beneficial. Everything is permissible for me but I will not be mastered by anything (1 Corinthians 6:12 NIV Study Bible).

The book of Acts mentions the Berean Jews known as the searchers of truth. They examined the scriptures every day. They wanted to see if what Paul said was truth.

In writing my very first book, I was in daily prayer that it would be published in hopes that by the unveiling of my life, it would open the eyes to all who believe in gods other than Jesus Christ.

The Lord confirmed to me on my Amazon mission trip in 2007 that missions and evangelism would be my purpose in life. However, my first duty was in caring for my beloved husband, so being a missionary overseas was placed on the backburner and I focused on evangelism in my own backyard. I tried to serve the Lord as a Stephen minister or by volunteering at the hospital or visiting nursing homes or assisted living with the Joy Group or with my therapy dog, Munchkin. In 2018, I thought my dream of going on long mission trips was going to come to fruition with my fake fiancé/husband, Frank, but that was not to be. Although the outcome was tragic for me and my faith severely tested, I persevered through my trials and came out victorious through the saving grace of Jesus Christ.

I asked the Lord, How in the world am I going to share with others what you have done for me since I now have little money to spare, or travel to places that haven't heard of you?

He said, Write a book.

Since I get so excited when I speak about our Lord in front of large groups, my mind goes in many directions, and I have a difficult time staying focused. Now with this book, I will be able to do my mission work even though it may be on a local level.

The week of October 17, 2022, is when I finally gave in to the gentle prodding of the Holy Spirit and began writing this book. How do I start? The thought came to me to rewrite the numerous testimonials I had given to various groups and churches. Although I did that, I was so confused after reading it. I laughed and said, How is the reader supposed to follow what I am trying to get across when I can't?

The thought of putting my life on paper and in some kind of order was daunting for me, but on my walk with the Lord today, he said, I will guide you and help you with the order and happenings. Today, thanks to the Lord, I was able to write an introduction and list the chapters and begin to tell my love story with Lord Jesus.

He is with me in every detail of my life now, and I praise him for everything: from telling me how to connect my CPAP machine to my SoClean machine, how to enhance my basil pesto pasta recipe (I laughed my head off), to telling me on my prayer walk that my book would be published, and so much more. I have also listed what I call Wow moments/suggestions from the Holy Spirit.

Chapter 1

What Is It Like Being Raised in a Serbian Home?

My life started in Cleveland, Ohio, where I lived with Mary, my mother; Wally, my father; Dolores (also known as Dee or Desa), my sister (one and a half years older than I); and my grandparents Mike and Anna. My grandparents came from the former Yugoslavia, and we all spoke Serbian and were of the Eastern Orthodox religion. My sister failed kindergarten because she couldn't speak English. When I came along, they made certain I was able to speak English.

The holidays were wonderful! We celebrated two Christmases: the American Christmas on December 25 and the Serbian Orthodox Christmas on January 7, according to the Julian Calendar. Since we lived with my father's parents, we always went over to my mother's parents and celebrated with the entire family, which included all my two aunts, LaLa and Penny, and my Uncle Sam and his wife, Grace, along with my cousins, Nancy, Karen, Bobbie, and Patty. We said the Lord's prayer before sitting down for Christmas dinner. The kids ate in the kitchen because there wasn't enough room in the dining room for all of us. After we all ate, the table was cleared for the men to play poker, and the women were delegated to the kitchen, helping to clean up. We were delegated to the living room where we each opened our one gift, played Bingo most of the time, and joked around with each other.

On January 7, we all went to church to celebrate Christmas and the Serbian traditions surrounding it. For example, on the Christmas tree, ornaments consisted of walnuts wrapped in aluminum foil and hung with red ribbon. The priest had a special royal robe with tassels for Christmas, and I think he had a different one for Easter. We greeted each other with Christ is born, and the other person would reply by affirming, Indeed he is born. Naturally, these greetings were all said in Serbian.

I had a wonderful upbringing with loving parents who inspired me to reach for the stars in anything I wanted to achieve. I don't remember either parent being materialistic nor did they treasure objects or what I call tchotchke. They were happy with the basic necessities of life. Family, friends, and church played an integral part in my upbringing. My dad, Wally, was a great athlete. He quit school and was called back by the principal to play in a baseball tournament. He loved all sports: baseball, basketball, and football. Prior to marrying his wife, he played in the minors with Boston Red Sox's farm division. He was friends with Ted Williams and met Babe Ruth. (His scrapbook of his baseball years contained newspaper articles and pictures but was either destroyed, lost, or misplaced by my mom in later years who suffered from Parkinson's and dementia.) Later in life, he loved to golf. He never was turned on by soccer, but I love it.

Although we did not have a Bible in the house or ever read the Bible anywhere else, we believed in God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. In that time period, I think the Orthodox religion believed that only a priest knew how to interpret scripture and its meanings. We went to church every Sunday, had a Sunday meal, and then watched sports afterward. Gas stations were closed, and so were the stores. Nothing was open. Families spent time—quality time—together.

Grandparents were like our second set of parents. When our parents said no to something we wanted, we went to our grandparents, who generally said yes. Pa (nickname for Grandpa) was a rather quiet man, and if I recall correctly, it was Baba (nickname for Grandma) who ruled the roost. Pa was an inspector on the Pennsylvania Railroad and received a lifetime pass upon retirement, but he and Baba never got to use it, as he suffered a major stroke that paralyzed him on one side and affected his speech. Baba faithfully took care of him for nineteen years, and then he went home to be with the Lord.

My grandparents and parents grew up in wartime and The Great Depression. I remember sending care packages to my grandmother's family overseas. She was one of twelve children, and she didn't want to marry a local man in Yugoslavia; so her Father helped her to come to the United States. She and my grandfather met in Cleveland. He was Serbian and very handsome. She was just average-looking—actually, she had large ears and a big nose. Baba reminded me of a horse.

Once, I asked him why he married her, and he said she was the only Serbian around at the time. People thought my sister was pretty and I was cute, I guess. We all had one trait in common: we were pure bred (all blue eyes). That statement reminds me of Hitler wanting an Arian nation (blue-eyed blonds) even though he was dark, short, brown-eyed, and homely. Yet he mesmerized the peoples of Germany even to the end.

Sometime in the late '60s, my grandmother brought over her younger sister, Nada (twenty-year difference in age), for several months. My parents had to sign some papers stating my grandmother was sponsoring her and, therefore, would be accountable for any activity. We knew she was a member of the Communist Party. I don't think my sister was living at home at the time. She was a stewardess with American Airlines and may have been living in New York.

Meanwhile, Nada, a professor in former Yugoslavia (split up into Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia, Slovenia, Macedonia, Montenegro, and Serbia, including the regions of Kosovo and Vojvodina) kept peppering my family about politics, but they chose not to get into a debate with her. My family loved America and simply wanted to show her their beliefs (freedom of speech, freedom to worship, etc.) through their earthly possessions of home, car, schools, jobs, and shopping malls.

On Sundays, she and I attended church service at the St. Sava Serbian Orthodox Church in Broadview Heights, Ohio. Nada was polite and did not embarrass me when I made the sign of the cross or when the congregation recited the Lord's Prayer and the Nicene Creed in unison. When we got home, the first thing she asked me was why they were no Blacks in our church. I told her we didn't hate Blacks or even dislike them. I don't ever remember my parents using the N-word. I tried to explain to her that I thought it was because we were Serbian, and the Serbs, like the other groups (Italian, Croatians, Polish, etc.), stuck close to their own nationality; and I felt that the Blacks stuck together because of their identity with each other.

I also went on to say that the Serbs and Croatians didn't like each other because of religion: Serbs being Orthodox, and Croatians being Catholic. The language is basically the same—at least I understood what was being said by the Croatians.

She told me horror stories of the war. Nada told me how the Germans took a pregnant Serbian woman, opened her up, removed the baby, and put a live cat inside her and stitched her up.

Another story is about a group of people praying in church, and the Nazis locked them inside and blocked all possible exits and set the place on fire, preventing them from escaping. The screaming was nonstop; it could be heard for miles, and no one was able to help them. They were burned alive!

She became a member of the Communist Party when she was nineteen or twenty and committed her life to them as she bought into socialism's philosophy that promises hope and change, income equality, racial harmony, and justice based on secular values rather than Judeo-Christian morality.

To quote Dr. David Jeremiah, who wrote Where Do We Go from Here?, socialists believe the world's means of production—including infrastructure, farms, factories, energy, natural resources, medicines, and more—should be under the control of the people. In other words, society as a whole should own the raw materials and the systems that produce wealth. In a free market system, these materials are usually controlled by companies or individuals, but in socialist countries, they are owned by the people. Who is the society under socialism but the government who controls the materials that produce wealth? In a democracy, a free market system, these materials are usually controlled by companies or individuals; but in socialist countries, they are owned by the government.

Under socialism, the government becomes the sole authority and controller of the means of production. Those people (e.g., Mussolini, Hitler, Karl Marx, Chavez, Fidel Castro, Nicolae Ceausescu, and others) were and still are corruptible by greed, selfishness, lust, vindictiveness, violence, and the overwhelming desire for authority and power.

It's one thing to say and espouse your views and beliefs on socialism in America, but it's another thing to actually live in one of those socialistic countries. Ask my sister, Dee. She spent five months visiting her daughter in Serbia and Switzerland, and every time she comes back, she says, There's no place like the United States.

As I mentioned, no one wanted to talk about politics, but I did so we would have these long talks on democracy compared to socialism. Nada questioned me about our educational system and how we didn't have any Blacks in Congress or perhaps not that many. I said I didn't know but that they are making progress in all fields—education, government, sports, movies, and the like. She talked about slavery in America compared to socialism, where everyone was treated the same and all had the opportunity to achieve their goal.

I countered that though America may be prejudicial in some ways, we still had freedom of speech to state our beliefs, goals. Whereas in Yugoslavia, under the dictatorship of Tito, you could not say anything against him or the Communist Party unless you risk jail time or death.

My uncle Vojo, who was his sister, said that the manager (landlord) of each apartment is a member of the Communist Party and is to report anybody whom he thought might be a traitor or spy. He goes on to say that in his apartment, they had a picture of Saint Jovan (Patron Saint of the Serbs) on their wall. When Nada or the landlord was coming for a visit, they would turn the picture around depicting Tito.

As I'm writing this book, it comes to mind that I don't know of any country in the world that is not prejudiced in some fashion, wanting to preserve its way of life. In fact, it's the socialistic/communistic countries that have the worst track record for stilting free speech. Can you imagine woke or cancel culture being accepted in one of these authoritarian countries?

In our frank discussions, we compared socialism and democracy, and I said, There's no chance of you being right. Look how we live—freedom of speech, freedom to worship, and to bear arms, all types of jobs, beautiful home, furnishings, plentiful food supply, transportation, all kinds of media (television with plenty of channels), theaters, drug stores, doctors of your choice. It was done by working hard and not relying on the government for handouts like you in Yugoslavia. She never did acknowledge or agree with anything I said or showed her, but I kept on