What are the details of the obituary?
Kathleen Dehmlow, 80, died Thursday, and whoever penned her obituary certainly had some issues with the late woman, to say the least.
The obituary reads:
Kathleen Dehmlow (Schunk) was born on March 19, 1938, to Joseph and Gertrude Schunk of Wabasso.
She married Dennis Dehmlow at St. Anne’s in Wabasso in 1957 and had two children Gina and Jay.
In 1962 she became pregnant by her husband’s brother Lyle Dehmlow and moved to California.
She abandoned her children, Gina and Jay who were then raised by her parents in Clements, Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Schunk.
She passed away on May 31, 2018 in Springfield and will now face judgement. She will not be missed by Gina and Jay, and they understand that this world is a better place without her.
What have some people said about this?
Several messages featured on Legacy.com’s message board are encouraging.
One reads, “In loving memory of a wonderful person. We will love you and miss you always.”
Another reads, “The good Lord loves you more than anyone else ever could. You are in Heaven now with your Savior. R.I.P.”
Another message appears to address those who penned the scathing obituary and reads, “May you both find healing and peace after the passing of Kathleen.”
It is unclear if the authors were Dehmlow’s children.
This writer’s perspective
Wading through endless news stories this morning, I stumbled across this news item and felt compelled to give a decidedly negative, and even disturbing, story even more traction on the internet.
Hear me out.
See, I received an email in my personal inbox on Monday — a newsletter to which I’m subscribed called “Girlfriends in God.”
While I admittedly often hurry through the morning Christian devotional out of habit, this one caught my eye because of its interesting title: “A Bitter Cup.”
In the message, the devotional’s author – Lisa Morrone — recalls her own troubled childhood, in which her mother would often project her troubles onto Morrone.
Morrone writes, “I grew up drinking from a bitter cup.”
“Brewing daily in my childhood home was a large vat of bitterness,” Morrone explains. “The longer it was left to ferment, the stronger the brew became. Because my mother drank from it on a daily basis, her bitterness began to grow roots—bitter roots. Pouring me a cup from her portion of bitter poison, she would share her deepest pain with me, how victimized she felt, and how crippled her emotions had become.”
Morrone goes on to detail her mother’s sad travails, and explains how her mother’s emotional pain would often sabotage relationships.
“And so my mother continued to share her bitter cup with me, year in and year out, causing me … much trouble and defilement,” Morrone writes. “Not surprisingly, as generational curses go, I began to develop my own vat of bitterness in my teen years which, looking back, truly stunted my growth as a young Christian. I would attend church and read my Bible, but still I struggled to make progress toward the goal of holiness to which I had been called. I was spiritually weak and easily toppled. Sin seemed to have its way with me.”
Morrone then goes on to detail the moment that changed her life forever.
Reading about Morrone’s moment really stuck with me, too, and I couldn’t get it out of my head for at least 24 hours — which brings us to this morning.
She writes that she was attending a women’s Bible study when one of its leaders offered up a piece of wisdom.
The leader said, “If life has handed you a bitter cup, it’s your responsibility to drink it fully — not pass it to others.”
Now, this resonated with me heavily. Had I been walking around passing my bitter cup around to others? Moreover, how many people are walking around, unwittingly doing this on a daily basis without any intent to harm or injure, but to simply share their burdens?
Morrone writes, “That very day I resolved to not only drink down that cup, but to digest it in a godly way so that no bitter root would remain for my children to find and possibly brew their own batch of bitterness from.”
Luke 22:42 says that Jesus had his own bitter cup to endure — which, in this case, was the cross.
“Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done,” the verse reads.
Morrone writes, “By far, it was not going to be an easy swallow, so [He] asked [His] Father to take it from [Him], if possible.”
“But the Father had a redemptive work planned and it required Jesus to drink that cup,” she adds. “And praise be to Jesus, by [His] obedient action, we were set free from our sin trouble and its defilement of our souls!”
That in itself tells us that our burdens — our bitter cups — are ours to bear, given to us to overcome for a purpose.
Regardless if we share our cups, drink our cups, or try to empty them into concealed places in order to avoid the heartache associated with them, one thing remains: our hope should be in God and God alone.
As MercyMe sings, “I know You’re able and I know You can save through the fire with Your mighty hand — but even if You don’t, my hope is You alone. I know the sorrow, I know the hurt would all go away if You’d just say the word, but even if You don’t, my hope is You alone.”