Together Through Joy and Pain

Their simple dwelling is in a senior citizens mobile home park adjacent to scenic Granite Creek in Prescott, Ariz. The well–kept yard has rocks, desert foliage, flowering bulbs, and several bird feeders for finches, doves, hummingbirds, and the occasional robin. 

Inside, the tidy home is filled with memorabilia of family and extended family acquired through the years. Six decades ago this February, Bill Brown and Alice Seitzinger exchanged Valentine's Day cards. Their story of love, now 60 years young and rooted in Christ, would be filled with joy as well as unimaginable pain.

The Good Old Days

Alice, the fifth of 10 children, had a happy childhood in Indiana, where her father worked for the railroad. She remembers that at the tender age of 7 at a Free Methodist Camp Meeting, she made a commitment to follow Jesus.

When Alice was 10, in 1943, she and her siblings told their mother about the great time they had poking fun at a weird group of people they had seen singing on the street corner. 

As "punishment" the following Sunday, their mother marched the kids off to the Salvation Army's Sunday school. Alice was soon playing in the junior brass band, and her family was attending the Hammond, Ind., Corps (church). As a teenager, she sensed God calling her to be a missionary nurse. 

Bill, five years older than Alice, grew up during the Great Depression in East Chicago, Ind., with six siblings and an abusive, alcoholic stepfather. His mother was the bedrock of the family; she somehow held everything together and made sure the children went to church. 

"I would much rather remember the happiness I knew attending the Presbyterian Church than remember the situation at home," Bill says.

Young Bill's pastor saw something in the teenage boy that he was not aware of himself; he surprised Bill by asking him if he ever considered the ministry. Much later, he would be called to be an officer in The Salvation Army. 

In the meantime, Bill served in "Uncle Sam's Army" at the end of World War 2 and in the reconstruction effort in Germany.

Bumps in the Road

In 1950, he was in still the reserves when he saw Alice at a Salvation Army young people's meeting. For him, it was "love at first sight." Not so for Alice. 

"It took me awhile," she laughs. In the meantime, she entered nurses training, and Bill was called up for combat in Korea.

"We corresponded, became engaged in 1952, and tied the knot the following year," says Alice.

Just a year later, the young couple chaperoned the teens of the Hammond Corps at a Salvation Army Youth Councils, and it was here Bill sealed his commitment to full–time ministry.

Bill remembers still what the speaker said: "If there's anything [besides being a Salvation Army officer] you feel you can do, go do it!"

Bill knew he could do nothing else but be an officer. Right away, he and Alice began the paperwork to enter the Army's Chicago Training College. At that time, Alice was a registered nurse working in obstetrics while Bill was an electrician. But their plans were interrupted when Bill's brother was incarcerated, and the Browns found themselves foster–parenting two nephews and a niece ages 3, 5, and 6. 

"There was no question in our minds," Bill says. "We were to be our 'brother's keeper.' As for training college, God would work out his will."

Grief Beyond Measure

The Browns' first son, Steven, was born September 1955, and he was the joy of their life in a household now buzzing with four children. But at 18 months old, Steven got the measles and died one night in the emergency room.

Alice was pregnant then with the couple's second son, Martin, who was born healthy just seven months later. But once again, the Browns' joy turned to anguish when, at 3 months old, Martin too died with complications due to measles. 

Alice remembers being dazed at both funerals. Except for the little white coffins she can still envision, she barely recalls anything. Her mother lovingly gave her a Bible verse (Psalm 30:5) that Major Alice still uses when counseling other women who have lost children. "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." 

Though he was distraught, Major Bill clung to his faith. "… Cast all your care upon him for he cares for you." This verse, 1 Peter 5:7, carried him through.

Devastating words

It wasn't until 1958 that the Browns were ready to enter the Chicago Training College. A week before their training began, in a casual conversation with a Christian leader, the Browns heard words that devastated them. He told them that their children's deaths could have been a direct result of their not entering training as soon as God called them to be officers. 

"This could be the reason God took your children," he said. "You were not in His will." 

The Browns explained their circumstances, but the leader insisted, "God should always come before anything else." Alice and Bill were so shocked that the words didn't sink in at first. When they did, they stung.

Bill says the remark hurt him deeply. But he felt secure in the decision he and Alice had made.

"It was God's will that we took care of those three children," he says.

For Alice, forgiveness took a much longer time—25 years.

While she was still a cadet, Alice became pregnant again. She was confident that since she was now "in God's will," nothing negative could happen. Three months after the Browns became officers, she delivered a full–term baby, only to hear these crushing words: "I'm sorry. We did all we could." 

The doctor told Alice that her son, Patrick, had been strangled by a prolapsed umbilical cord. She experienced denial and did not attend the funeral. "I did not want to live and wished I could die. I could not handle being around anyone with babies or children, including my own sister," Alice says.

Bill says this was the lowest point of his life. Yet his faith buoyed him. He declares with conviction, "God is faithful to His word. Heaven is MORE dear to me now because I'm going to see my sons when I get there." 

In the early 60s, new medical research revealed the problem with Steven and Martin: they had no "passive immunity," the natural immunity mothers typically pass to their babies in the womb. Alice didn't know it, but she had lost that ability when, during nurses training, she contracted severe amoebic dysentery. 

Doctors told the Browns that any further children would need to receive immune therapy at birth and be monitored carefully until their own immune systems developed.

Forgiveness: A Process

Encouraged to get professional counseling after the loss of Patrick, Alice says she was surprised at how soon she got better. It helped that the following year, the couple adopted Bonnie, a little girl whom they adored and fussed over. Three years later they were blessed with the complications–free birth of a son, Bradford. He immediately underwent gamma globulin treatments for his immune system. Because her work involved daily contact with many children, Alice worried about him. But after two years, everyone knew he was home free.

Daily, Major Alice prayed over the remark that had devastated her. "It was always in the back of my head," she says. "I could not forgive the man who said it." Finally, in 1983 at a Bible institute, she was able to "get the victory." She says, "Still, out of nowhere, the hurt returns though it has been forgiven. Leaders and Christians need to be careful when giving advice; they are not always correct—nor do they know the lasting effects their words may have."

A Calling Fulfilled

The Browns' service as officers covered 33 years, most of it spent shepherding inner–city African–American corps. (See sidebar.) Retirement came in 1992 but there's been no discharge for the Browns from the "great salvation war." They have soldiered on in the Prescott Corps. 

"It's been our longest appointment," they quip.

Major Bill still teaches Sunday school and sings in the Songsters (choir). Major Alice plays in the band, teaches Sunday school and Bible school, and is heavily involved in camp activities, Home League (a women's group), and Community Care Ministries. 

Corps Officers Majors Kyle and Martha Trimmer are impressed. "The Browns often encourage us with stories of God's faithfulness in their officership and personal lives. They even started an unofficial 'outpost' at the local Starbucks, where they have a prayer ministry."

And, Major Kyle says, "Anyone can see they are still deeply in love with each other."

So whenever you pass a senior citizens retirement complex, don't assume for one moment that nothing significant could be taking place there. Beyond its gates may be a 60–year–young love story, one that is triumphant over loss and pain and resplendent in God's healing grace.


Daryl Lach
Chicago, Il.

http://www.prioritypeople.org/article.php?articleID=713