In the 10th grade, God finally threw me a lifeline in the form of 3 new girls who moved to our school district. One was Jill, a very smart, extroverted, unashamed geek. Which is to say she actually preferred hanging out with smart people who spoke intelligently. Our small town school was not kind to kids who hadn't grown up with everybody else, so when I saw her floundering a bit, I befriended her. Or she befriended me - anyway, the end result was we became good friends and confidantes and remained so for the rest of high school and college. I was in her wedding, and the only reason I haven't spoken to her in years is that we lost touch when she was moving across the country right at the time I was planning my wedding. (Jill, if you stumble across this, email me - I miss you).
The other two girls were Barbara and Marsha - sisters, two years apart. Barb was my age, Marsha younger. Both very tall (they got nicknamed the Twin Towers, which were still standing at that time). Both musically inclined, so I got to know them both in band and chorus, as well as from sitting near Barb in homeroom.
Here's where the spiritual lifeline comes in - both Barb and Marsha were openly, radically unashamed of their Christian faith. They lived it out loud, they spoke with people about it, and they introduced me to Christian rock music. That may sound funny and trivial, but it was a HUGE thing in my life. These girls were the very first people my age who lived out a vibrant, tangible Christian faith.
It may sound dumb, but the first time Barb played a Petra song for me (popular 80's Christian rock band) it was like a light bulb went off in my head. There's rock music for Christians! Holy cow! (sorry, no pun intended). Music that sung about faith and lifted you up and was fun to listen to.
I became good friends with both of them and their folks, and they started inviting me to some of their youth group events. At those events I met a whole GROUP of kids our age who were on fire for Christ! Who had everyday discussions about what it means to be born again. Truly, it was a revelation for me, who had struggled along in my faith seemingly in a vacuum for the previous 7 years.
My life did not change overnight. I was still awkward and shy and a band geek. But finally, hallelujah, finally! I had friends my age who understood my struggle and who could encourage me as sisters in Christ.
Showing posts with label Christian testimony. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christian testimony. Show all posts
Monday, September 8, 2008
Life of Beth=:) (Chapter 9 - 9th Grade)
I forgot to mention in the last chapter that I spent my whole 8th grade year suffering from bad hair. It was the beginning of the 80's and I had the brilliant idea at the beginning of the school year to get my long baby fine hair layered and permed. NOT one of my better ideas - I spent the whole year first looking like a poodle and then growing the dumb thing out. Bad Hair is terrible addition to adolescent troubles.
So... 9th grade. Ninth grade was only marginally better than 8th grade. I was spared the indignity of being bottom of the totem pole as a freshman since they'd shipped all the 7th and 8th graders up to the high school that year. Unfortunately I was not spared the indignity of still being the butt of many practical jokes. Like putting my name on a sign up sheet for an upcoming dance with one of the most popular seniors in the school. Who I didn't even know. Who didn't know me. Fun times, that.
Two good things helped save the year from being a total disaster. First, at the beginning of the year I gathered up my courage and joined one of the most popular clubs in school for girls. They did all the cool stuff in the school - sponsored dances, Unicef trick-or-treating, parties, flower sales, etc. All the popular girls joined. Many of my friends were joining. The catch was, they had an initiation to get in. A very toned down, one day version, of a sorority hazing. Basically you had to spend one whole school day wearing whatever crazy get-up they told you to wear, doing whatever the current members told you to do, acting like their slave-for-a-day, and generally embarrassing yourself for the whole school's amusement. Harmless, but humiliating. It would basically be akin to torture for me - voluntarily putting myself in the situation I tried to avoid every single day of my life - being ridiculed and made a laughingstock. The only thing that convinced me to do it was the fact that if I did it freshman year, I'd be in good company. If you waited till sophomore year, they were purposefully harder on you, especially your own classmates who joined as freshmen. (A good friend of mine waited, and yes, they were harder on her - luckily she's always been a very good sport!)
I'd hazard a guess that they've probably had to tone it down in recent years, though I checked my old high school's website and the club still exists there. Lest you think I exaggerate, I happened across the page of my assignment book that I wrote the instructions for initiation day on:
1. Make your hair into at least 5 ponytails.
2. Put an old pair of pantyhose (with the legs on) on your head, over the ponytails, cut holes to pull ponytails through.
3. Tie a different colored ribbon on each ponytail.
4. Wear your underwear outside a pair of your dad's pants or jeans, roll the legs up to the knee.
5. Wear one of your mom's shoes and one of your dad's with no socks (I had to cheat and wear both my mom's cause my dad was afraid I'd sprain an ankle with this one.)
6. Wear your dad's button down shirt or pajama top with a tie.
7. Put at least 3 colors of nail polish on your fingernails
8. Bring an old pipe or pacifier to carry in your mouth (note: our mascot was the Mountaineer - at the time he clenched a pipe between his teeth)
9. Bring a bucket to carry your books in
10. Wear 2 different gaudy earrings
11. Can't wear makeup, but bring it (so they could put it on you in strange ways)
12. Must eat in the cafeteria that day (so you could be made to sing stupid songs to the entire lunchroom at the top of your lungs)
Well. I did it. I survived it, ego mostly intact. It was slightly more fun and slightly less embarrassing than I feared. I was also quite stealthy - I hid alot. The sisters said it wasn't fair, but the rule was they had to catch you to make you do things - and they could only catch you in the hall, classrooms were off limits.
I was glad I joined. All the activities (along with band, chorus, and a few other clubs) kept me pretty busy and my mind somewhat off my loneliness. Having the courage to suffer through the initiation raised my social standing somewhat, which helped.
The second good thing that happened that year was near the end of the year, my body finally took a hint from my hormones and caught up with my female classmates. Yay! Less embarrassment after gym class and bye-bye chubby phase!
So... 9th grade. Ninth grade was only marginally better than 8th grade. I was spared the indignity of being bottom of the totem pole as a freshman since they'd shipped all the 7th and 8th graders up to the high school that year. Unfortunately I was not spared the indignity of still being the butt of many practical jokes. Like putting my name on a sign up sheet for an upcoming dance with one of the most popular seniors in the school. Who I didn't even know. Who didn't know me. Fun times, that.
Two good things helped save the year from being a total disaster. First, at the beginning of the year I gathered up my courage and joined one of the most popular clubs in school for girls. They did all the cool stuff in the school - sponsored dances, Unicef trick-or-treating, parties, flower sales, etc. All the popular girls joined. Many of my friends were joining. The catch was, they had an initiation to get in. A very toned down, one day version, of a sorority hazing. Basically you had to spend one whole school day wearing whatever crazy get-up they told you to wear, doing whatever the current members told you to do, acting like their slave-for-a-day, and generally embarrassing yourself for the whole school's amusement. Harmless, but humiliating. It would basically be akin to torture for me - voluntarily putting myself in the situation I tried to avoid every single day of my life - being ridiculed and made a laughingstock. The only thing that convinced me to do it was the fact that if I did it freshman year, I'd be in good company. If you waited till sophomore year, they were purposefully harder on you, especially your own classmates who joined as freshmen. (A good friend of mine waited, and yes, they were harder on her - luckily she's always been a very good sport!)
I'd hazard a guess that they've probably had to tone it down in recent years, though I checked my old high school's website and the club still exists there. Lest you think I exaggerate, I happened across the page of my assignment book that I wrote the instructions for initiation day on:
1. Make your hair into at least 5 ponytails.
2. Put an old pair of pantyhose (with the legs on) on your head, over the ponytails, cut holes to pull ponytails through.
3. Tie a different colored ribbon on each ponytail.
4. Wear your underwear outside a pair of your dad's pants or jeans, roll the legs up to the knee.
5. Wear one of your mom's shoes and one of your dad's with no socks (I had to cheat and wear both my mom's cause my dad was afraid I'd sprain an ankle with this one.)
6. Wear your dad's button down shirt or pajama top with a tie.
7. Put at least 3 colors of nail polish on your fingernails
8. Bring an old pipe or pacifier to carry in your mouth (note: our mascot was the Mountaineer - at the time he clenched a pipe between his teeth)
9. Bring a bucket to carry your books in
10. Wear 2 different gaudy earrings
11. Can't wear makeup, but bring it (so they could put it on you in strange ways)
12. Must eat in the cafeteria that day (so you could be made to sing stupid songs to the entire lunchroom at the top of your lungs)
Well. I did it. I survived it, ego mostly intact. It was slightly more fun and slightly less embarrassing than I feared. I was also quite stealthy - I hid alot. The sisters said it wasn't fair, but the rule was they had to catch you to make you do things - and they could only catch you in the hall, classrooms were off limits.
I was glad I joined. All the activities (along with band, chorus, and a few other clubs) kept me pretty busy and my mind somewhat off my loneliness. Having the courage to suffer through the initiation raised my social standing somewhat, which helped.
The second good thing that happened that year was near the end of the year, my body finally took a hint from my hormones and caught up with my female classmates. Yay! Less embarrassment after gym class and bye-bye chubby phase!
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Life of Beth=:) (Chapter 8 - 8th Grade)
Some of you may have noticed this chapter has been a long time coming. Some of you may have wondered if there is a reason. There is. I would have to say that my 8th grade year was the second worst year of my life. The worst was the summer of 1992 - I was 24 years old and in the space of 3 short months I caught the chicken pox, had my wisdom teeth out, had braces put on (which was eventually a good thing), and my dad had open heart surgery (which was better than the alternative, but turned my life upside down nonetheless).
That was because in my 8th grade year, I Chose Sides, in the eternal battle of good and evil. I can see this now, looking back over the story of my life. At the time I was merely doing what the other 13 year olds in my Sunday School class were doing - taking my Confirmation classes in view of being confirmed as a member of my church at the end of that year.
Now, I am not going to get into an argument or Biblical exegesis of exactly how, when, or under what circumstances a person *really* becomes a Christian. It could be argued that I "really" became a Christian when I prayed at 8 years old. (Me, I think that's the likely one.) Some would argue that I "really" became a Christian when I had a believer's baptism (as opposed to the infant baptism I'd already had) at Creation Festival when I was 23 years old. Honestly I don't think God is up in heaven making tally marks on a chart. But it's quite possible that Satan is....because that was the year I began to feel the effects of spiritual warfare leveled against me in a very personal way.
An aside: I must insert here that none of this will make sense unless I explain that one of my strongest spiritual gifts is the gift of discernment. The denomination I grew up in did not really teach or emphasize spiritual gifts, especially what some folks call the "miraculous gifts". I believe God gave me this particular gift from the very first, when I was 8, but it is only in recent years that I have come to realize what it is, how it works, and what it's for. The gift of discernment differs from normal Christian discernment. All Christians are to use discernment. But the gift of discernment allows a believer to know where a person's motivations come from - from human motives, Godly motives, or evil motives - to basically know what's driving them. It also allows a believer to sense the presence of the Holy Spirit or evil spirits.
Now before anyone writes and tells me I'm mistaken, crazy, involved in the occult, or going to hell - let me reassure you that mature, stable Christian friends have confirmed the gift in me, I try always to use the gift Biblically and wisely, and the various "thorns in my side" God has allowed keep me from thinking the gift makes me All That. God controls it, I can only pray and submit to Him that I understand how to use it properly. The best way I can describe how the gift of discernment works is that it's kind of like normal human intuition amped up to the nth degree. That wonky "something's not right" feeling that people get in the pit of their stomach when in the presence of a shady character. It's feels kind of like that, only I almost always know exactly what the "something" is. (As I said, the knowledge of what's revealed is always up to God, not me.)
OK, all that to explain that it was during that year I began to notice a funny pattern to my life. I would attend my Confirmation classes, excited and eager to learn more about my faith. I really wanted to be a full member of my church. I was hoping that my on again/ off again relationship with God would become more stable and help me deal with the pressures of teasing at school better. So I'd be all pumped up with faith when I got home from class on Sunday, and then I'd have a horrible week at school, where everything I said was taken wrong and every awkward thing I did was put on display.
The more connected I felt to God, the more I read and understood my Bible, the worse these episodes would be. And then the depression came. And then the nightmares hit. And then the loneliness had me spiraling farther and farther down. I can still remember sitting in my living room trying to work on homework, or reading a book late at night (yes, I've always been a night owl) and being totally spooked out by the creepy feeling I was being watched. Suddenly I was being assaulted from all angles, day and night, and I had no idea what was happening. All I knew was that after a while, I noticed that the worst episodes happened after the best and closest times with God.
On top of all this there was the talk going on a school about how likely it was that we would lose a bunch of our classmates to Central Catholic because their parents were done with the school district's antics over rearranging the classes again.
Socially awkward, wearing glasses, needing braces, smart but shy, constantly teased, and flung into the middle of a spiritual battle not of my own choosing, I was about as miserable as a person could get. I went back and reread my diaries from this point in time - it really was that painful - I did not imagine it. On the surface mind you, I was an ordinary, normal, well-adjusted kid who happened to be a geek. But I had no spiritual support system - my church didn't teach about *personal* spiritual warfare or how to fight back, I had no friends who were with me on the journey to offer encouragement. I wore my mask I had erected very well - it never came off at school, it rarely came off at home. How I wish I had the sort of youth group I see at our church today - with kids who are on fire for Christ and understand what spiritual warfare is.
I understand now why it was happening. I thought I was a shy, awkward, geeky teenager. But God knew the gift He had given me. Satan knew too - I was a threat to him (I still find this funny - me, a threat - I'm the world's biggest cream puff! But not spiritually.) It operated in me then, though it would not be until 20 years later (in September 2001) that I would have any inkling of what God bestowed on me.
By the grace of God, I survived that year. It ended with me finally being confirmed, in my beautiful white dress, so proud and happy with my white gift Bible that I promised God I'd read every day. It ended with a mass exodus of about 25 of our classmates to Central Catholic the next year, including one of my best friends (again - what is it with the best friends here God?), who would not be there as I began my journey as a freshman in high school.
And the unseen battle raged on....
That was because in my 8th grade year, I Chose Sides, in the eternal battle of good and evil. I can see this now, looking back over the story of my life. At the time I was merely doing what the other 13 year olds in my Sunday School class were doing - taking my Confirmation classes in view of being confirmed as a member of my church at the end of that year.
Now, I am not going to get into an argument or Biblical exegesis of exactly how, when, or under what circumstances a person *really* becomes a Christian. It could be argued that I "really" became a Christian when I prayed at 8 years old. (Me, I think that's the likely one.) Some would argue that I "really" became a Christian when I had a believer's baptism (as opposed to the infant baptism I'd already had) at Creation Festival when I was 23 years old. Honestly I don't think God is up in heaven making tally marks on a chart. But it's quite possible that Satan is....because that was the year I began to feel the effects of spiritual warfare leveled against me in a very personal way.
An aside: I must insert here that none of this will make sense unless I explain that one of my strongest spiritual gifts is the gift of discernment. The denomination I grew up in did not really teach or emphasize spiritual gifts, especially what some folks call the "miraculous gifts". I believe God gave me this particular gift from the very first, when I was 8, but it is only in recent years that I have come to realize what it is, how it works, and what it's for. The gift of discernment differs from normal Christian discernment. All Christians are to use discernment. But the gift of discernment allows a believer to know where a person's motivations come from - from human motives, Godly motives, or evil motives - to basically know what's driving them. It also allows a believer to sense the presence of the Holy Spirit or evil spirits.
Now before anyone writes and tells me I'm mistaken, crazy, involved in the occult, or going to hell - let me reassure you that mature, stable Christian friends have confirmed the gift in me, I try always to use the gift Biblically and wisely, and the various "thorns in my side" God has allowed keep me from thinking the gift makes me All That. God controls it, I can only pray and submit to Him that I understand how to use it properly. The best way I can describe how the gift of discernment works is that it's kind of like normal human intuition amped up to the nth degree. That wonky "something's not right" feeling that people get in the pit of their stomach when in the presence of a shady character. It's feels kind of like that, only I almost always know exactly what the "something" is. (As I said, the knowledge of what's revealed is always up to God, not me.)
OK, all that to explain that it was during that year I began to notice a funny pattern to my life. I would attend my Confirmation classes, excited and eager to learn more about my faith. I really wanted to be a full member of my church. I was hoping that my on again/ off again relationship with God would become more stable and help me deal with the pressures of teasing at school better. So I'd be all pumped up with faith when I got home from class on Sunday, and then I'd have a horrible week at school, where everything I said was taken wrong and every awkward thing I did was put on display.
The more connected I felt to God, the more I read and understood my Bible, the worse these episodes would be. And then the depression came. And then the nightmares hit. And then the loneliness had me spiraling farther and farther down. I can still remember sitting in my living room trying to work on homework, or reading a book late at night (yes, I've always been a night owl) and being totally spooked out by the creepy feeling I was being watched. Suddenly I was being assaulted from all angles, day and night, and I had no idea what was happening. All I knew was that after a while, I noticed that the worst episodes happened after the best and closest times with God.
On top of all this there was the talk going on a school about how likely it was that we would lose a bunch of our classmates to Central Catholic because their parents were done with the school district's antics over rearranging the classes again.
Socially awkward, wearing glasses, needing braces, smart but shy, constantly teased, and flung into the middle of a spiritual battle not of my own choosing, I was about as miserable as a person could get. I went back and reread my diaries from this point in time - it really was that painful - I did not imagine it. On the surface mind you, I was an ordinary, normal, well-adjusted kid who happened to be a geek. But I had no spiritual support system - my church didn't teach about *personal* spiritual warfare or how to fight back, I had no friends who were with me on the journey to offer encouragement. I wore my mask I had erected very well - it never came off at school, it rarely came off at home. How I wish I had the sort of youth group I see at our church today - with kids who are on fire for Christ and understand what spiritual warfare is.
I understand now why it was happening. I thought I was a shy, awkward, geeky teenager. But God knew the gift He had given me. Satan knew too - I was a threat to him (I still find this funny - me, a threat - I'm the world's biggest cream puff! But not spiritually.) It operated in me then, though it would not be until 20 years later (in September 2001) that I would have any inkling of what God bestowed on me.
By the grace of God, I survived that year. It ended with me finally being confirmed, in my beautiful white dress, so proud and happy with my white gift Bible that I promised God I'd read every day. It ended with a mass exodus of about 25 of our classmates to Central Catholic the next year, including one of my best friends (again - what is it with the best friends here God?), who would not be there as I began my journey as a freshman in high school.
And the unseen battle raged on....
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Life of Beth=:) (Some necessary background on PA schools)
I was going to jump right into Chapter 8 here, but I realized that I needed a whole post on some background information about Pennsylvania schools, especially mine.
I'm not sure how all the other states in the country district their schools, but Virginia schools (where we are now) are districted *very* differently from Pennsylvania schools (where I grew up.) Virginia makes each whole county a school district, with a few exceptions like the city of Manassas, which is its own entity.
In Pennsylvania, school districts were apportioned more, well, organically for lack of a better word. First established around the major cities, then apportioned (I'm guessing here) as needed in the suburbs. The result was that our tiny suburb of the city of Reading (3 small boroughs) had its own school district, the smallest in the area. We had approximately 900 students in the whole school district when I was in high school. So if one of our classmates' families had to move to another part of town, they ended up in another school district. There had, therefore, *always* been a rivalry with our neighboring (larger) school districts.
When I first started school, Antietam school district had 3 elementary schools (k-6) and one high school (7-12). When I wrote about being switched elementary schools after 2nd grade, what had happened was that they turned one of the elementary schools into a middle school (5-8), my former elementary school into a special ed. center, and sent everyone to the biggest elementary school. By the time I was ready for 5th grade, I went right into the middle school. But towards the end of my time in the middle school, there were rumors that now the middle school would close, and we would have one elementary school, and the high school (7-12 again).
Now, the thing you need to understand is that one of our biggest rival schools was Central Catholic High. Up until that point, it was a mostly friendly rivalry. Most of the kids who went there had entered the district as kids at St. Catherine's, and just went right on up through the high school. As kids we only rarely had occasion to think about anyone's religion. We were a mix of Protestant, Catholic, and Jewish kids who really only thought about that when one of us celebrated a holiday that someone else didn't. Until 8th grade.
In 8th grade, the rumblings of discontent began. All of our classmates who were Catholic suddenly started talking about how their families were seriously considering pulling them out after 8th grade and enrolling them at Central because their parents were sick and tired of Antietam's antics (there was much more going on behind the scenes.) And we would joke with them and all, but towards the end of the year, we realized they were serious.
There were around 100 kids in our 8th grade class. I started 9th grade with maybe 80 classmates. Yes, we lost about 1/5 of our classmates to our rival school. From that moment on the rivalry turned very, very bitter.
I'm not sure how all the other states in the country district their schools, but Virginia schools (where we are now) are districted *very* differently from Pennsylvania schools (where I grew up.) Virginia makes each whole county a school district, with a few exceptions like the city of Manassas, which is its own entity.
In Pennsylvania, school districts were apportioned more, well, organically for lack of a better word. First established around the major cities, then apportioned (I'm guessing here) as needed in the suburbs. The result was that our tiny suburb of the city of Reading (3 small boroughs) had its own school district, the smallest in the area. We had approximately 900 students in the whole school district when I was in high school. So if one of our classmates' families had to move to another part of town, they ended up in another school district. There had, therefore, *always* been a rivalry with our neighboring (larger) school districts.
When I first started school, Antietam school district had 3 elementary schools (k-6) and one high school (7-12). When I wrote about being switched elementary schools after 2nd grade, what had happened was that they turned one of the elementary schools into a middle school (5-8), my former elementary school into a special ed. center, and sent everyone to the biggest elementary school. By the time I was ready for 5th grade, I went right into the middle school. But towards the end of my time in the middle school, there were rumors that now the middle school would close, and we would have one elementary school, and the high school (7-12 again).
Now, the thing you need to understand is that one of our biggest rival schools was Central Catholic High. Up until that point, it was a mostly friendly rivalry. Most of the kids who went there had entered the district as kids at St. Catherine's, and just went right on up through the high school. As kids we only rarely had occasion to think about anyone's religion. We were a mix of Protestant, Catholic, and Jewish kids who really only thought about that when one of us celebrated a holiday that someone else didn't. Until 8th grade.
In 8th grade, the rumblings of discontent began. All of our classmates who were Catholic suddenly started talking about how their families were seriously considering pulling them out after 8th grade and enrolling them at Central because their parents were sick and tired of Antietam's antics (there was much more going on behind the scenes.) And we would joke with them and all, but towards the end of the year, we realized they were serious.
There were around 100 kids in our 8th grade class. I started 9th grade with maybe 80 classmates. Yes, we lost about 1/5 of our classmates to our rival school. From that moment on the rivalry turned very, very bitter.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Life of Beth=:) (Chapter 7 - 7th Grade)
Well, I guess that's appropriate - my chapters now line up with my year in school. Fancy that.
Seventh grade was the year that all the girls in my class went fashion crazy. I started reading Teen and Seventeen and Young Miss magazines, started begging my mom to let me wear makeup and get my ears pierced (she said yes to the makeup, no to the ears), and saved my allowance to buy the latest music and hair frou-frou. I had a growth spurt that summer to make up for the 5th grade chubby phase (thank you God!) and I was able to get more involved in school clubs and things.
It was a year of preteen angst and lots of highs and lows. I had 3 or 4 friends that I started spending a lot more time with. And I had a nemesis who drove me crazy. I'm not sure why, but this girl made it her business to find ways to torment me, and get her friends to do the same.
And, oh yeah, seventh grade was also the year that all the girls in my class went boy crazy. Including me. It's hard now, as I watch my 3 busy children tear around the house, to remember just how much teenage angst filled my 7th through 12th grade years. To remember how much I despaired of ever having a date, much less a boyfriend or a husband. And just so we can get this out of the way - I had ONE date, in all of my middle and high school years. And I was the one who did the asking. And it wasn't the prom. Ok, I said it. This is unfortunately not going to be the story of how Shy Wallflower Ugly Duckling becomes Beautiful Swan and Prom Queen. (It was many years later that I finally got around to feeling like Beautiful Swan.)
Anyway, this is where the spiritual battle and the layers of the mask began in earnest. I learned to be a very good little chameleon, adjusting my personality to suit the occasion and the people I was with. In some ways, it's a shame we had no real drama department - I was becoming a natural actress. By turns I was Smart Girl, Goofy Girl, Busy Girl, Sympathetic Friend Girl, Church Girl, Creative Girl, and Sarcastic Girl. And if I couldn't manage to fake it in any given situation, I defaulted to Loner Girl, in which I tried to pretend I could care less. This is not to say I was always a fake. My few close friends understood me about as well as anyone could have given all I was hiding behind my chameleon mask. My parents loved me and listened, but their advice was usually to just ignore the teasing (unfortunately I could pretend to not notice, but my ears still worked).
I'd been given a diary a couple years previous, and this was the year I discovered that if I couldn't find a sympathetic ear, I could always find a sympathetic page. So all the things I couldn't tell even my parents or closest friends went down on those pages. Every once in a while I got brave and tried to do or say something that was from the Real Me, but usually I got strange looks or teasing out of those efforts, so the mask slid firmly back into place.
This was also the year I began learning that keeping really busy was a great way to distract myself from thinking too hard. It also gave me an outlet. I poured myself into my schoolwork, my flute playing, my singing (at school and at church), and my after school clubs. Once I got home, music, writing, and reading as many books as I could get my hands on became my solace. I would turn the music way up and sing my heart out, and dance through my pain.
And the summer after 7th grade, God finally sent a ray of light to brighten the darkness - in the form of a favor to a friend of my mother's. (I didn't know it at the time, however.) One of the ladies at my church, Mrs. M, who lived just up the street, had her young granddaughter visit every Thursday and Friday during the summer. Our street was only a couple blocks from the local pool, and her granddaughter loved to go swimming. Except that Mrs. M didn't really like hanging out at the busy pool, sitting in the hot sun. So she asked my mother if maybe I could take her granddaughter to the pool with me sometimes (since it was The Place To Be I was there most every day). Mom asked me, and I decided hey, why not - do something different for a change. I'd met Mrs. M's granddaughter and she seemed nice - she'd just finished 2nd grade. It was fun, and since I was an only child, it was kind of like getting a chance to be a big sister for a bit.
Little did I know in doing that small favor I would make a friend for life....
Seventh grade was the year that all the girls in my class went fashion crazy. I started reading Teen and Seventeen and Young Miss magazines, started begging my mom to let me wear makeup and get my ears pierced (she said yes to the makeup, no to the ears), and saved my allowance to buy the latest music and hair frou-frou. I had a growth spurt that summer to make up for the 5th grade chubby phase (thank you God!) and I was able to get more involved in school clubs and things.
It was a year of preteen angst and lots of highs and lows. I had 3 or 4 friends that I started spending a lot more time with. And I had a nemesis who drove me crazy. I'm not sure why, but this girl made it her business to find ways to torment me, and get her friends to do the same.
And, oh yeah, seventh grade was also the year that all the girls in my class went boy crazy. Including me. It's hard now, as I watch my 3 busy children tear around the house, to remember just how much teenage angst filled my 7th through 12th grade years. To remember how much I despaired of ever having a date, much less a boyfriend or a husband. And just so we can get this out of the way - I had ONE date, in all of my middle and high school years. And I was the one who did the asking. And it wasn't the prom. Ok, I said it. This is unfortunately not going to be the story of how Shy Wallflower Ugly Duckling becomes Beautiful Swan and Prom Queen. (It was many years later that I finally got around to feeling like Beautiful Swan.)
Anyway, this is where the spiritual battle and the layers of the mask began in earnest. I learned to be a very good little chameleon, adjusting my personality to suit the occasion and the people I was with. In some ways, it's a shame we had no real drama department - I was becoming a natural actress. By turns I was Smart Girl, Goofy Girl, Busy Girl, Sympathetic Friend Girl, Church Girl, Creative Girl, and Sarcastic Girl. And if I couldn't manage to fake it in any given situation, I defaulted to Loner Girl, in which I tried to pretend I could care less. This is not to say I was always a fake. My few close friends understood me about as well as anyone could have given all I was hiding behind my chameleon mask. My parents loved me and listened, but their advice was usually to just ignore the teasing (unfortunately I could pretend to not notice, but my ears still worked).
I'd been given a diary a couple years previous, and this was the year I discovered that if I couldn't find a sympathetic ear, I could always find a sympathetic page. So all the things I couldn't tell even my parents or closest friends went down on those pages. Every once in a while I got brave and tried to do or say something that was from the Real Me, but usually I got strange looks or teasing out of those efforts, so the mask slid firmly back into place.
This was also the year I began learning that keeping really busy was a great way to distract myself from thinking too hard. It also gave me an outlet. I poured myself into my schoolwork, my flute playing, my singing (at school and at church), and my after school clubs. Once I got home, music, writing, and reading as many books as I could get my hands on became my solace. I would turn the music way up and sing my heart out, and dance through my pain.
And the summer after 7th grade, God finally sent a ray of light to brighten the darkness - in the form of a favor to a friend of my mother's. (I didn't know it at the time, however.) One of the ladies at my church, Mrs. M, who lived just up the street, had her young granddaughter visit every Thursday and Friday during the summer. Our street was only a couple blocks from the local pool, and her granddaughter loved to go swimming. Except that Mrs. M didn't really like hanging out at the busy pool, sitting in the hot sun. So she asked my mother if maybe I could take her granddaughter to the pool with me sometimes (since it was The Place To Be I was there most every day). Mom asked me, and I decided hey, why not - do something different for a change. I'd met Mrs. M's granddaughter and she seemed nice - she'd just finished 2nd grade. It was fun, and since I was an only child, it was kind of like getting a chance to be a big sister for a bit.
Little did I know in doing that small favor I would make a friend for life....
Life of Beth=:) (Chapter 6 - Intermission)
Okay, the past 2 days have left me tired and mentally muddled. We'd been preparing to go on vacation (just camping and visiting family, just so you know it's not like a huge trip) when life intervened and we suddenly found ourselves appliance shopping.
Now I'm trying to switch mental gears and at least get out of my middle school years before going away and my mind is mush. Since I worked so hard to try to forget these years, now that I'm trying to remember the parts really significant to my spiritual journey, I find them all out of chronological order in my head. So I'll just write about them as they come back to me and hopefully it will be vaguely understandable...
Now I'm trying to switch mental gears and at least get out of my middle school years before going away and my mind is mush. Since I worked so hard to try to forget these years, now that I'm trying to remember the parts really significant to my spiritual journey, I find them all out of chronological order in my head. So I'll just write about them as they come back to me and hopefully it will be vaguely understandable...
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Life of Beth=:) (Chapter 5 - Early Middle School)
Ah, yes. The middle school years. Those years of Hello Kitty, slam books, rainbows and unicorns, blue eyeshadow, and fashion fads. I have to admit, it wasn't all bad. But in the same way that the Grand Canyon was fashioned by years of water running through the rock, so my spirit was fashioned by the spiritual warfare going on around and inside me - mostly in the form of teasing. Now it is perhaps true that I was a very sensitive kid, and others got teased too. But as my friend D likes to say, the mind can't take a joke. It didn't much matter to me then that they were kids, or that they just joking. It hurt me. A lot. Exactly how much I am only now discovering years later as I try to remove (with God's help) the layers of the masks I erected to protect myself from it.
(An aside: this part is really hard to write, I keep finding myself doing *anything* to avoid it)
Ok, so how best to explain. Well, for starters, I'm a shy extrovert with a people pleasing complex. Which means I like to be around lots of people, I like to be liked, but I can be very socially awkward around people I don't know or those who intimidate me. Now stick that mental picture into a small town middle school environment and you'll begin to understand. And to fill in your mental gaps I'll add that in 5th and 6th grade I went through my pre-growth spurt chub phase, puberty was not cooperating with me, I had to start wearing glasses in 6th grade, was no good at sports, and needed braces (but didn't get them then for reasons waaay too long to go into.) Oh, and I had a propensity for sticking my foot in my mouth on a regular basis by uttering things with double meanings that I was too naive to recognize. Erk.
Getting the picture? Good, because I've hidden away the evidence. Suffice to say I was pretty much the epitome of the geeky wallflower and I took refuge in my books, my few close friends, my family, and my church. Only, even church wasn't always a refuge because many of those same dynamics were going on in my youth group. So I spent a great deal of time reading, daydreaming, and trying to not make waves. In retrospect I'm realizing I succeeded a little too well.
There were a few highlights. In 6th grade I found a new best friend, Carolyn (except her family moved at the end of the year cause her dad was military). And I went on my first camping trip with the 6th grade class, where I learned that I love camping. My folks were not "camping" people so they had never taken me. The love of camping would end up becoming very important in my life later on.
Stay tuned for Part 2, Late Middle School....fade out on a Barry Manilow song.....
(An aside: this part is really hard to write, I keep finding myself doing *anything* to avoid it)
Ok, so how best to explain. Well, for starters, I'm a shy extrovert with a people pleasing complex. Which means I like to be around lots of people, I like to be liked, but I can be very socially awkward around people I don't know or those who intimidate me. Now stick that mental picture into a small town middle school environment and you'll begin to understand. And to fill in your mental gaps I'll add that in 5th and 6th grade I went through my pre-growth spurt chub phase, puberty was not cooperating with me, I had to start wearing glasses in 6th grade, was no good at sports, and needed braces (but didn't get them then for reasons waaay too long to go into.) Oh, and I had a propensity for sticking my foot in my mouth on a regular basis by uttering things with double meanings that I was too naive to recognize. Erk.
Getting the picture? Good, because I've hidden away the evidence. Suffice to say I was pretty much the epitome of the geeky wallflower and I took refuge in my books, my few close friends, my family, and my church. Only, even church wasn't always a refuge because many of those same dynamics were going on in my youth group. So I spent a great deal of time reading, daydreaming, and trying to not make waves. In retrospect I'm realizing I succeeded a little too well.
There were a few highlights. In 6th grade I found a new best friend, Carolyn (except her family moved at the end of the year cause her dad was military). And I went on my first camping trip with the 6th grade class, where I learned that I love camping. My folks were not "camping" people so they had never taken me. The love of camping would end up becoming very important in my life later on.
Stay tuned for Part 2, Late Middle School....fade out on a Barry Manilow song.....
Friday, July 25, 2008
Life of Beth=:) (Chapter 4 - The First Cruel Blow and The Battle Begins in Earnest
If you remember a couple posts back I talked about how I was having a wonderful summer and spent most of it with my best friend, Laura. One thing you need to know about me. Although I am an extrovert, I tend to have only a few really deep relationships at a time. Laura was my friend, but really, she was more like the sister I'd always wanted (my friends with siblings always thought I was crazy to want siblings). Her mom practically adopted me into the family. Her younger sister and brother even liked me. We were together all the time that summer.
And then one ordinary day, Laura said she had something really important to tell me. Her father had been promoted and the family would be moving. By the end of the summer. To Washington. "Oh", said I, "You mean D.C.?" (thinking that was not so far, we lived in PA). "No," she says, "Washington STATE."
Ohhhhhhh....my little 8 year old heart had just slid down into my stomach and stayed there like a lead weight. My Very Best Friend was moving as far away as she could move and still be in the country. I wasn't just devastated; I was numb. We were still together all the time for the rest of the time we had, but it was a bittersweet elation. Almost like when you know that someone is dying and these are your last days with them. Yeah, I know, it sounds really maudlin and dramatic but that's how I felt.
We promised to write each other all the time, and actually did. Laura and I kept a regular correspondence through all our school years right up until we left for college, and even a bit in college. But I only actually saw her in person twice after the Bentleys moved. They came back to visit once when Laura and I were in middle school (8th grade, I think). And once again, when we were in late high school or early college. That was it. Now that we have email and such, I keep thinking I should look her up again. Maybe someday I will...
So I went into 3rd grade, absent one best friend. And with the new classroom system, these 30 or so kids were now my classmates for life. I got put into the top section, and my 3rd grade year was not too bad, but I was very lonely.
In 4th grade, I was determined to Get Involved. A lot of my friends had started playing an instrument at the end of 3rd grade and joined the band beginning of 4th. Not wanting to be left out, I begged and pleaded with my folks; they got me a flute for Christmas and I started lessons, and joined the band when I could play well enough. Of course, I'd overlooked one thing. I was setting myself up BIG time for the torment which was to come.
You see, since I was awkward and shy, I was already a geek. Then I got put in the top section, and became a smart geek. Then I joined the band and became that epitome of the teased, a Smart Band Geek. More's the pity for me. (At least now I have the consolation of my husband who was also a Smart Band Geek and understands me!)
Of course it was all over the day the 4th grade girls started to become fashion conscious. I had a love of comfortable clothes, and if they fit, who cared what they looked like? At the time I was crazy about those Garanimals matching knit top and pant sets. So crazy about them, that I wore them long past my end of 3rd grade growth spurt. You see what's coming, don't you? Yeah....
The summer before 5th grade, my mom and I went on a whirlwind shopping trip. It seems the "in" girls had to wear jeans. I had never owned a pair up till that point. I hated them - most uncomfortable things on the planet when you're short with no waist. It was 1978, on the leading edge of the designer jeans craze....(fade out dancing to "Le Freak".)
And then one ordinary day, Laura said she had something really important to tell me. Her father had been promoted and the family would be moving. By the end of the summer. To Washington. "Oh", said I, "You mean D.C.?" (thinking that was not so far, we lived in PA). "No," she says, "Washington STATE."
Ohhhhhhh....my little 8 year old heart had just slid down into my stomach and stayed there like a lead weight. My Very Best Friend was moving as far away as she could move and still be in the country. I wasn't just devastated; I was numb. We were still together all the time for the rest of the time we had, but it was a bittersweet elation. Almost like when you know that someone is dying and these are your last days with them. Yeah, I know, it sounds really maudlin and dramatic but that's how I felt.
We promised to write each other all the time, and actually did. Laura and I kept a regular correspondence through all our school years right up until we left for college, and even a bit in college. But I only actually saw her in person twice after the Bentleys moved. They came back to visit once when Laura and I were in middle school (8th grade, I think). And once again, when we were in late high school or early college. That was it. Now that we have email and such, I keep thinking I should look her up again. Maybe someday I will...
So I went into 3rd grade, absent one best friend. And with the new classroom system, these 30 or so kids were now my classmates for life. I got put into the top section, and my 3rd grade year was not too bad, but I was very lonely.
In 4th grade, I was determined to Get Involved. A lot of my friends had started playing an instrument at the end of 3rd grade and joined the band beginning of 4th. Not wanting to be left out, I begged and pleaded with my folks; they got me a flute for Christmas and I started lessons, and joined the band when I could play well enough. Of course, I'd overlooked one thing. I was setting myself up BIG time for the torment which was to come.
You see, since I was awkward and shy, I was already a geek. Then I got put in the top section, and became a smart geek. Then I joined the band and became that epitome of the teased, a Smart Band Geek. More's the pity for me. (At least now I have the consolation of my husband who was also a Smart Band Geek and understands me!)
Of course it was all over the day the 4th grade girls started to become fashion conscious. I had a love of comfortable clothes, and if they fit, who cared what they looked like? At the time I was crazy about those Garanimals matching knit top and pant sets. So crazy about them, that I wore them long past my end of 3rd grade growth spurt. You see what's coming, don't you? Yeah....
The summer before 5th grade, my mom and I went on a whirlwind shopping trip. It seems the "in" girls had to wear jeans. I had never owned a pair up till that point. I hated them - most uncomfortable things on the planet when you're short with no waist. It was 1978, on the leading edge of the designer jeans craze....(fade out dancing to "Le Freak".)
Life of Beth=:) (Chapter 3 - Plunged Into Battle Without a Horse
So there I was, eight years old, newly saved, totally clueless, walking home from the last day of VBS. And do you know what happened on the way home? I stepped in dog poo. In my new sandals. And my mom is really OCD about germs.
Now, I was merely annoyed. I was still excited to tell my mother what had happened to me. Instead, I got hustled hopping through the house to wash my foot and fumigate my shoe. I kept trying to share with her, but all I got was a running diatribe about rude neighbors and their evil dogs. By the time I was cleaned up and my mother's ruffled feathers settled, most of the wind was gone from my sails.
My parents did listen eventually to my story, but their reaction seemed to be more one of "Just humor her, she's a kid" than "Praise God!" In fact, I think they were rather puzzled. After all, I'd been baptized. Wasn't I already a Christian? What's all this "saved" stuff about? The whole concept seemed totally foreign to them.
I was baffled and let down, to say the very least. My VBS teachers had made such a fuss over me, made it out to be a Really Big Deal, what I'd done. A little nonplussed, I settled back into my "normal" life. Little did I know that my life was now on a collision course with the cosmic battle of the ages, the war for the souls of mankind.
You see, God is no respecter of persons. I made a conscious choice. I understood what I was saying (as much as a kid can). I prayed that simple prayer, and suddenly from that moment in time, I belonged to God - transaction complete. It has taken me a lifetime to understand that Satan is no respecter of persons either. God wasn't the only one who took me seriously, as I was shortly to learn....
Now, I was merely annoyed. I was still excited to tell my mother what had happened to me. Instead, I got hustled hopping through the house to wash my foot and fumigate my shoe. I kept trying to share with her, but all I got was a running diatribe about rude neighbors and their evil dogs. By the time I was cleaned up and my mother's ruffled feathers settled, most of the wind was gone from my sails.
My parents did listen eventually to my story, but their reaction seemed to be more one of "Just humor her, she's a kid" than "Praise God!" In fact, I think they were rather puzzled. After all, I'd been baptized. Wasn't I already a Christian? What's all this "saved" stuff about? The whole concept seemed totally foreign to them.
I was baffled and let down, to say the very least. My VBS teachers had made such a fuss over me, made it out to be a Really Big Deal, what I'd done. A little nonplussed, I settled back into my "normal" life. Little did I know that my life was now on a collision course with the cosmic battle of the ages, the war for the souls of mankind.
You see, God is no respecter of persons. I made a conscious choice. I understood what I was saying (as much as a kid can). I prayed that simple prayer, and suddenly from that moment in time, I belonged to God - transaction complete. It has taken me a lifetime to understand that Satan is no respecter of persons either. God wasn't the only one who took me seriously, as I was shortly to learn....
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Life of Beth=:) (Chapter 2 - Saved by a Schoolbus)
Between the end of my 2nd grade year and the beginning of my 3rd a lot of big changes took place in my young life. From kindergarten through 2nd grade, students were placed into their homerooms on a more or less random basis. Each of my homeroom classes in those grades had children of all different learning levels, and the mix of kids changed from year to year. In 3rd grade, when they consolidated all the elementary kids into one school (there had been 3) they sorted us out by ability. Little did I know then that from that point on I would be taking most of my classes with pretty much the same 30 or so kids until I graduated. Small town schools - gotta love 'em.
I had always had a small group of neighborhood friends to hang out with when I was very young, but in 2nd grade I gained a Best Friend. There is nothing like your very first best friend (at least, if you're a girl - maybe it's different for guys). Her name was Laura Bentley and her family lived on the next street up from mine, just down the alley. Her mom and my mom were friends, so we girls got to hang out a lot at each other's houses. Laura is the one who taught me how to climb the tree in my front yard, and we spent most of that summer up in it (to my parents' everlasting worry). We shared a love of magic tricks and even put on a magic show for our friends and families. Laura's mom made us beautiful magician's capes out of 2 old curtains. Life was very, very good that summer.
Now our church did not do VBS (Vacation Bible School -for those not in the know) programs in the summertime. But somehow my mom got wind of a group who was going to be doing a VBS program right in our neighborhood, at the other end of our street. Evidently some church group had gotten hold of an old school bus and was driving it around to the different neighborhoods over the course of the summer and inviting nearby neighborhood kids to come. It sounded like fun, and I'd never been before, so my mom signed me up.
I guess there must have been a handful of us who showed up. Every day that week I walked down to the other end of my street to sit in my small VBS class on the old yellow school bus. It was very much like my Sunday school class at church. We learned Bible stories about Jesus and did crafts and learned songs and had a snack. But there was one thing that was *very* different from my Sunday school class.
On the last day, they outlined for us the Plan of Salvation. Now, I didn't know it was called that, at the time. I'd only just turned eight. But I remember very clearly being puzzled, intrigued, and horrified all at the same time. Remember I'd been going to Sunday school faithfully for 2 full years now, singing in the choir. I had *never* heard of this before.
(an aside: It took me years to figure out the details, but I would make an educated guess that the VBS people were some flavor of Baptist. I grew up Methodist, and our church at least was very big on doing works for God. In retrospect, I must thank God for sending these good folks my way, as it probably would have been many years more until I heard this message.)
Though I wish they had not been quite so hellfire and brimstone about it, they outlined their message very simply. (Note: they must have been well taught - I just tried to outline it here and was failing miserably. Google "bible.org plan of salvation" if you want a good and thorough explanation).
Anyway, so I was utterly terrified of dying and going to hell (I don't recommend the fire and brimstone approach for children!) I mean, I was a pretty good kid who never made trouble. That even I wasn't good enough really floored me (yeah, I know, the pride thing - but come on, I was eight!) So right then and there I prayed the Prayer of Salvation. (Please Google that one too, I'm not even going to attempt it.)
I had always had a small group of neighborhood friends to hang out with when I was very young, but in 2nd grade I gained a Best Friend. There is nothing like your very first best friend (at least, if you're a girl - maybe it's different for guys). Her name was Laura Bentley and her family lived on the next street up from mine, just down the alley. Her mom and my mom were friends, so we girls got to hang out a lot at each other's houses. Laura is the one who taught me how to climb the tree in my front yard, and we spent most of that summer up in it (to my parents' everlasting worry). We shared a love of magic tricks and even put on a magic show for our friends and families. Laura's mom made us beautiful magician's capes out of 2 old curtains. Life was very, very good that summer.
Now our church did not do VBS (Vacation Bible School -for those not in the know) programs in the summertime. But somehow my mom got wind of a group who was going to be doing a VBS program right in our neighborhood, at the other end of our street. Evidently some church group had gotten hold of an old school bus and was driving it around to the different neighborhoods over the course of the summer and inviting nearby neighborhood kids to come. It sounded like fun, and I'd never been before, so my mom signed me up.
I guess there must have been a handful of us who showed up. Every day that week I walked down to the other end of my street to sit in my small VBS class on the old yellow school bus. It was very much like my Sunday school class at church. We learned Bible stories about Jesus and did crafts and learned songs and had a snack. But there was one thing that was *very* different from my Sunday school class.
On the last day, they outlined for us the Plan of Salvation. Now, I didn't know it was called that, at the time. I'd only just turned eight. But I remember very clearly being puzzled, intrigued, and horrified all at the same time. Remember I'd been going to Sunday school faithfully for 2 full years now, singing in the choir. I had *never* heard of this before.
(an aside: It took me years to figure out the details, but I would make an educated guess that the VBS people were some flavor of Baptist. I grew up Methodist, and our church at least was very big on doing works for God. In retrospect, I must thank God for sending these good folks my way, as it probably would have been many years more until I heard this message.)
Though I wish they had not been quite so hellfire and brimstone about it, they outlined their message very simply. (Note: they must have been well taught - I just tried to outline it here and was failing miserably. Google "bible.org plan of salvation" if you want a good and thorough explanation).
Anyway, so I was utterly terrified of dying and going to hell (I don't recommend the fire and brimstone approach for children!) I mean, I was a pretty good kid who never made trouble. That even I wasn't good enough really floored me (yeah, I know, the pride thing - but come on, I was eight!) So right then and there I prayed the Prayer of Salvation. (Please Google that one too, I'm not even going to attempt it.)
Life of Beth=:) (Chapter One)
(An aside: My husband loves the Monty Python movie "Life of Brian" and his name is Brian. In that vein, and because sometimes my life has felt like a Monty Python routine, I present, Life of Beth=:) Please no lawsuits for copyright defamation....)
I don't ever remember a time when I did not believe in God. That may sound odd, arrogant, or simplistic, but it's the truth, insofar as my memories of my little girl self can process.
My parents started taking me to the Methodist church that they belonged to when I was just a tiny baby. They, and pretty much all of my extended family, believed that going to church was What One Did. Two of my uncles (Uncle William and Uncle Glynn) were ministers. In fact, my Uncle William baptized me in a small ceremony in my parents' living room. I don't remember this, but have been told the story so often. I would have asked him to tell me about it personally, but Uncle William died of cancer when I was about two.
My very early childhood was pleasant and unremarkable. And as an only child of older parents (Mom was 39 and Dad 43 when I was born) it was pretty calm too. I was a happy little girl, if rather shy. I played with friends in my neighborhood, enjoyed school when I started going, loved my parents, and liked just doing normal family things. My folks' quiet, traditional Christian faith infused every part of my early life. I simply accepted that God was. Without thought, as naturally as breathing, there was no question or angst about it - God was Creator; we went to church to worship and learn about Him.
When I was old enough to attend Sunday school (age 6) I enjoyed it. I liked learning the Bible stories, singing the songs, making new friends, and earning my attendance pin (I still have it somewhere).
At that time in my church there were choirs for every age group, from little ones all the way to adults. Shortly after starting Sunday school, our teacher recommended a few of my friends and I join the Cherub choir (that was the littlest ones, ages 6-10 or something like that). It sounded like fun, so I started going to choir practice every Thursday night with my friend, Wendy. Our moms switched off driving us, but we usually went together.
And so went my life from birth to age 7 or 8 - American suburbia is the early 70's - like a Norman Rockwell painting. School, church, choir, friends, family, holidays - the days and seasons of my early childhood passed so gently that most of my early memories are a hazy watercolor wash.
Unbeknown to me , God had things in mind that would shortly change some of the colors with which I painted my little world.
I don't ever remember a time when I did not believe in God. That may sound odd, arrogant, or simplistic, but it's the truth, insofar as my memories of my little girl self can process.
My parents started taking me to the Methodist church that they belonged to when I was just a tiny baby. They, and pretty much all of my extended family, believed that going to church was What One Did. Two of my uncles (Uncle William and Uncle Glynn) were ministers. In fact, my Uncle William baptized me in a small ceremony in my parents' living room. I don't remember this, but have been told the story so often. I would have asked him to tell me about it personally, but Uncle William died of cancer when I was about two.
My very early childhood was pleasant and unremarkable. And as an only child of older parents (Mom was 39 and Dad 43 when I was born) it was pretty calm too. I was a happy little girl, if rather shy. I played with friends in my neighborhood, enjoyed school when I started going, loved my parents, and liked just doing normal family things. My folks' quiet, traditional Christian faith infused every part of my early life. I simply accepted that God was. Without thought, as naturally as breathing, there was no question or angst about it - God was Creator; we went to church to worship and learn about Him.
When I was old enough to attend Sunday school (age 6) I enjoyed it. I liked learning the Bible stories, singing the songs, making new friends, and earning my attendance pin (I still have it somewhere).
At that time in my church there were choirs for every age group, from little ones all the way to adults. Shortly after starting Sunday school, our teacher recommended a few of my friends and I join the Cherub choir (that was the littlest ones, ages 6-10 or something like that). It sounded like fun, so I started going to choir practice every Thursday night with my friend, Wendy. Our moms switched off driving us, but we usually went together.
And so went my life from birth to age 7 or 8 - American suburbia is the early 70's - like a Norman Rockwell painting. School, church, choir, friends, family, holidays - the days and seasons of my early childhood passed so gently that most of my early memories are a hazy watercolor wash.
Unbeknown to me , God had things in mind that would shortly change some of the colors with which I painted my little world.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)