I was driving home the other day and heard Glen Beck telling about getting a pocket knife that was engraved "Hard times make us." I won't get into the politics of what he was talking about but would rather like to share what this phrase means to me.
I began to think about my life. What does this phrase mean to me? I immediately think back about the way I grew up. My mom and dad din't have much. My dad was an alcoholic. Not a mean alcoholic, but a functioning alcoholic. From as early as I can remember, he always had a beer nearby. When you coupled this with his diabetes, he was a very sick man. But oh, what a lovely man. I was his baby (the youngest of three and the only girl). My mom was a wonderful mother in her own way. She lived a rough life with my dad but always did what she could for me. I was raised in an old store house near the elementary school. We had running water (well water) and an outside toilet. I often speak to older generations that had that, however, it was the "norm" for them. Unfortunately, in my generation, it wasn't. My house sat just below the elementary school so all the kids knew exactly where I lived. I can't remember specific instances of teasing but always had this feeling of embarrassment and shame growing up. I can remember in Kindergarten the teacher trying to explain to me that the toilet had to be flushed and that's a normal thing, not to be scared of it. For several years, I would always flush the toilet and then back away quickly. I just didn't understand it. I had wonderful neighbors and friends though. I hope that Melody, Regina, and some of the others realize just how instrumental you were in my wanting to live a different way growing up. I love you for the kindness and love you showed to me and my mom. You were an extended part of our family, it seemed like. Back then, neighbors were truly neighbors and we could always count on you. I know my brother still does...
So, then I think about my dad dying when I was in middle school and the craziness I went through as a teenager. I won't recall all of that on here because I still have a teenage daughter and a pre-teen son and don't want them getting any ideas... Ha Ha. But seriously, i think back to the times when God just flat out spared my life despite my own stupidity. I got pregnant at 17 and had my daughter when I was barely out of high school (which I almost didn't even finish). I moved to Charleston with the help of a now gone program called the Single Mothers Program at Covenant House. A social worker (imagine that!) at Family Care referred me to another social worker in this program and it changed my life. They helped me get into public housing which was quite an experience. I had my mother's day basket of flowers stolen the first night I was there and watched an overdose victim removed from the apartment next door the second or third day I was there. Quite the cultural shock for the girl that thought the yearly trip to Ohio for coal was really getting out there and seeing a lot!!!
My early college years were a struggle too. Approximately 6 hours or so getting to and from classes on a complicated exchange of bus routes and daycare arrangements for my daughter. There's more to my story, but you get the picture...
These experiences made me. The struggles, as hard as they have been, made me the person I am today. I don't know if I would have appreciated my life today if I hadn't gone through all of that. Back then, it hurt. I can remember feeling angry that I had to go through it.
Yet, where would I be today if I hadn't struggled? I think I'd probably be dead today if not for the grace of the Lord and the desire he put in me to do better, have better. I know the things I experience today - the hard times - continue to make me strive for better. This life is a race, Paul wrote. How true that is. Pastor Wight says, you're either in a storm, coming out of the storm, or getting ready to go into a storm. These storms are what help us grow.
So, I'm done. I could write a lot more, but this is probably long enough. Until next time...
No comments:
Post a Comment