I never really thought it mattered what profession I would go into. It wasn’t something I thought about because I wasn’t ever given the promise of a future. I didn’t think about it much. I remember when I was in high school. It must have been my Freshman year. Because my two best friends had not gotten pregnant yet. Connie, and Vanessa We had a plan to fix up, and move into a house that was on Connie’s parents property. I believe the plan was to finish out the school , year, save our money so that we could show our parents we were Serious about our commitment to move out. I honestly had not thought about this in years, and I’m not sure of what made me think of it tonight . Oh, yes. It was one of the few times that I thought about my “future”. I didnt think about getting married, having children. Life was not glamorized for me at all . I learned the harsh realities of life, and Glory be to God lived to tell about it. Where to begin? I didn’t think about it, the future. My childhood was lived in fear most of the time. Don’t mess up, don’t cause problems, don’t ask questions, and did I mention you better not make a mistake? Ok, probably one of the most vivid memories of my father that I have, and I have written about it before, or at least started to .. I must have been maybe 4 or five years old, I was little. maybe I never realized how little. It was an golden cloudless clear day in the summer evening. A Sunday, around 5- 6 PM. My brother had gotten a new bike. I saw someone, ride on the handle bars of the bike. This is starting to seem irrelevant.. Is that my saboteur? I just want to get to the good stuff. We will continue. I wanted to ride on the handle bars of my brothers bike too. I am granted permission for this activity, and in my attempt to get on the handlebars I slip an scratch my leg. This causes me enough pain that I back out of the whole deal. This bothers my father. I’m encouraged to try again, but have lost my confidence. I’m not sure what happened next, but I do remember being dragged by my hair in the house and then running away from him and hiding under the covers on my bed, old to have them pulled away as he swung his belt haphazardly at me. I was terrified. Next thing I remember is riding on the handle bars of my brothers bike, with post crying sniffles with my father riding with me around the block. I remember stating at one point “this isn’t scary at all” talking about the handle bar bicycle ride around the block. I remember feeling like I was lying. I was scared. Scared of hurting myself, scared of him hurting me like he did. It wasn’t so bad, but it wasn’t worth the trouble.
I had it easy I’ve always been told. My older brothers and sister had it way worse than me, and I don’t think I want to know. It just occurred to me that maybe they were all abusive. They were being bullied , so they bullied and abused me too. It makes sense. Maybe I had a selective memory. I wasn’t that close to any of them. I think if myself as some little troll running around. the wild and crazy blob. My sister would spend time with me but I always felt pressure to be more like her. Mostly from a superficial view. She was thin I was fat. I think I thought I should be farther along in development. Because the siblings were all so much older than me, It made me speed my process up. Thinking a kindergartner should be kissing, and have a BF. I did I made it happen. I kissed Randy Walker on the cheek while we were in line at the drinking fountain. I waltz up to the front of the line, grabbed him and kissed him. I was always pushing issues like that and would proceed to have some of life’s first like that with people I neither loved nor did they love me. Not something I am proud of, but it is the truth. My thoughts are it is a good thing that the past is not that appealing, then you don’t want to live there. You move on and that is a good thing.
Life is so fragile. It can be taken a way at any moment, yet somehow we live our lives.
I shall live and not die, and proclaim what the Lord has done. That is my motto. My encouragement.