eirenemaker

The Worst of Times....and the Best of Times

The irony of my childhood was that it was also the best of times. For every black memory, I have two white ones....sure, there was the cruel, nasty stepdad, but then there was PopPop, my grandpa...he adored me, I adored him, and he was my world. There was Susan, my best friend, and Lori, my sister. Sure, mom was distant, and cold, and angry ALL THE TIME.....but there was Aunty Shanny, who was warm, caring, she listened, and was inviting and cuddly! And there was Tammy and Kim, her daughters, our cousins, who made every day that we spent with them a grand adventure!!

We had chores.....edicts issued by a perfectionist, controlling mother. A quarter had to be able to bounce off the bed after it was made, and the peeled potato skin couldn't snap when it was bent.....or else. The dishs had to squeak and if any were found with spots, mom would empty the cupboards and make us do them all, all over again. But, when chores were done, we were free to go do whatever we wanted....so you can bet the quarter always bounced, the potato skin was so thin you could see through it and the dishs were spotless!!

Mom had one rule for going outside to play...be back before it gets dark. We spent entire days wandering between corner stores, abandoned gravel pits, swamps and ponds, ravines, grave yards, old abandoned farms and barns, train tressles and the Butler's backyard. Our imaginations knew no bounds, and the smell of clean fresh air mixed with children's play sweat is still heady to me. TV was saved for one or two hours a night, if it was raining, and sticks became horses and bricks became entire cities for our Tonka trucks.....dolls? They were as foreign to me as indoor play. The ultimate cruelty by way of punishment was getting grounded...I'd have taken the electric cord butt whipping over grounding any day.

I remember one very indelible moment on one of those play days....we'd been outside all day, roving, building forts, playing cowboys and Indians (or .... for those who place value on being PC.....bovine persons and aboriginals) I was walking home from the Butler's, alone. The sun was just starting to go down. The smell of the cooling asphalt was in the air....the birds, the breeze, the wonder of it all....I looked up at the sky, clouds shimmering in the pinkening light...the forest canopy swaying against the backdrop....one lone star blinking through....and felt????? OVERWHELMED...AWED...WOWED....I thought "WHO made all this?" and was hit with this certainty, absolute and riveting...EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE OK. I remember it like it was yesterday...or a minute ago. I was maybe 6 or 7.

Romans says that God gave evidence of Himself in His creation...I was raised by an athiest in a violent cruel home. That day, in my heart of heart's, I became a believer. Even when I went home, and asked mom "who made everything?", and she explained it was all a big accident...and my ancestors were apes....(which could have explained alot of things)...that moment of certainty never left me. God showed Himself to me that day....though I wouldn't actually get it 'till many many years later.

posted by peaceMkR @ 7:30 PM