An Ordinary Childhood

Rays of sun burst upon the horizon to proclaim a new spring day.

> Lying on my bed, in the flutter of a blanket used for a curtain, the wind enters borne on the breeze of a new spring day, bringing with it the promise of warmer than seasonal weather. So much joy can be found in the small corners of life, if we just seize the opportunity to stop there. The day calls; with it, the promise of life in all it's activity.

 

> God entered my life as an infant when Mother dedicated her first born in a church when still wearing booties knitted by my father's mother. Soon as I could talk, she taught me "Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep". Mother made sure I had party dresses to wear and put me on the Sunday school bus every week, because my little legs could not reach the expanse between steps. She never went with me and only sent my brother and sister when they were older. She insisted they experience it once to see if they liked it.  When they were older, they did attend a couple times. They found no attraction to return to Sunday school.

 

> I accepted the teachings and existence of God in a matter-of-fact way. Talking to God became a common activity for me at an early age. I can remember some of the childlike conversations after wishing upon the first star of the night in the northern sky.

 

 

> There was nothing particularly special about myself or my childhood. I didn't think about it one way or another. Just a child growing up like all others, learning to talk, tie my shoes and cut new teeth. There was the common awareness of my small world and the sense of everything existing around me. The major difference from kids I went to school with was the single parent household and less income after my father left. In 1955, the single parent home was still uncommon. I was eight years old when "Daddy" left his wife and three children for a teenage girl.

 

> Before he left, we had a nice two-bedroom house in a suburb - a new concept back then. We played with neighborhood kids and attended a new brick schoolhouse. We caught pollywogs from a local pond, played "dress up" with our mother's clothes, and hide and seek with our friends. My memory still plays images of them across the broad screen of my mind.

"Children see magic because they look for it." - Christopher Moore

Children and God

 

It was the dawn of color television and the Howdy Doody show, Ed Sullivan, poodle skirts, saddle shoes, drive in theaters, the jitterbug, jukeboxes and candy buttons on paper. The milkman delivered to your door and the family doctor still made house calls. Women stayed at home, wore aprons and cooked Maypo for breakfast. It was convertible cars, the polio vaccine, home perms and Alaska became a state. It was Elvis, Mickey, Uncle Milty and American Bandstand. We caught pollywogs and fireflies, played hopscotch and jumped to Double Dutch. It was the magical time of childhood wonder and innocent discovery.

> Childhood seemed, then and now, not to be unlike any other child's.

 

> Adults have little understanding of the influence they have on the lives of young children. In many ways, we become imprinted by those who are the strongest personalities in our young lives. It is said from birth to four are the years that set us on the course of who we will become. I am sure my mother, grandfather, Mother Carmichael were strong influences in my life. 

 

> There were a few struggles for our family and within our family. All families struggle with internal and external relationships. We learned give and take. My brother and I were close as children, but on one occasion, our tempers were so riled that we threatened each other with knives. Grandfather stopped that little drama before it turned tragedy. The next day, we were trying to defend each other against a common enemy. We grew through all of it.

 

> Back then, God was the invisible friend I talked to and the subject of Bible stories at church. My life was about friends, school, fishing, parakeets and dress up. Children are truly blessed to have their own world and a direct line to the ear of God. Children are on God's priority list. Need prayer? Ask a child to intervene for you.

 

 

 

> We are tested daily. The greatest trial in my first ten years was overcoming not having a father. When a parent leaves or gives up a child, that child's small world insists that this is their fault. Children take these huge burdens on themselves and create guilt and blame. Until he left, I was Daddy's girl. After he left, I craved male attention. This had a huge affect on my life for many years to come and is still a small part of my emotional baggage. He left an unfulfilled hunger inn each of us. My sister and I yearned for the paternal presence that is the role model for a girl's choice of male relationships. My brother just wanted a father's guiding hand and approval for a "Job well done, son."

 

> A huge part of my character is defined by my mother's heart. It cannot be explained any other way - example is a great teacher. What do we know of giving, if not witnessed by us of those we admire? What does anyone know of compassion without suffering?

 

> I believe that God listened to me from the first time I called on Him; wishing upon a star in the night sky. He hears every word from the lips of a child. Let me say here, there have been a few times when I felt lonely, but I cannot remember any moment when I felt alone - not ever.

 

> There are no coincidences, no accidents in God's perfectly ordered universe. Everything in the life of a believer happens for a reason. As you continue through the reflections of my life, you will see why I have come to believe this way. Our lives come together in the end for a purpose.

* God is on His thrown and all is right.

Entertaining Angels Unaware

AS A YOUNG CHILD, I walked to a neighborhood church every week.

> At this point, my religious life was either social or recreational with summer church camp along with the usual songs and stories. There was no real understanding. Bedtime prayers were occasional with the sense of an invisible companion I could talk to any time. 

 

> Sometimes, people walk through our lives leaving footprints on our memory that mark our personality. Sometimes, we entertain angels unaware of doing so. Such a person left her footprints in my childhood.

 

> This special lady lived alone down the street and attended the same church. She was frequently called on to give prayer during church service and her prayers were lengthy. She didn't leave out anyone or anything. We became acquainted and developed a wonderful relationship. She was widely known as "Mother Carmichael".

 

> No telling how old she was; anyone over the age of forty seems old to a young child.

 

> All her furnishings seemed antique to me. She did not own a cat. She had no television, and she was frequently seen doing her own yard work. Mother Carmichael would even climb a ladder to wash windows and clear gutters of leaves. I would go to her house on Sunday mornings and we would catch the church bus together, after our church merged with another outside our neighborhood. There would be evangelist programs on her radio and I would watch her comb her long silver hair to tie in a knot at the nape of her neck. After the bus returned us, I sometimes stayed to visit. I genuinely enjoyed the company of this woman who was so "different". She never said an off-color word or spoke a tidbit of gossip. There was a quiet peace in her home that didn't exist anywhere else in my world. 

 

 

 

> At this point, Mother Carmichael was my only spiritual mentor. Occasionally, I would stop after getting off the city bus from school. She would be sitting in her front porch swing or raking leaves and we would share. She was always patient and made time for me, always interested and a good listener - I could be a chatterbox.

 

> As I grew and became secretive, the visits gradually became fewer and farther between. I have no idea what ever became of her. I don't remember anything about a family. She was still living in that same house when I graduated from high school and got married. She was so unlike anyone I have known before or since.

 

> The peace that I felt in her presence has never been forgotten. I fin, in my senior years, that I consciously strive for that illusive peace. If not for the lovely Mother Carmichael, I might never have a reference point for this peace. I know now that gentle lady was evidence of God in this world.