Hi All ~ Long time no blogging I know! My life has been consumed with elections and Christmas program preparation. But now the election is over I'm hoping to get back into some semblance of a routine! Hope you enjoy this Thanksgiving thought below!
Just months before
my 16th birthday my family moved from Minnesota to Florida. If you’re imagining us packing up all of our
belongings, having a few good-bye parties, loading up a moving truck and
heading South to the white sandy beaches of the Atlantic, that’s not exactly
how it went.
My mom and dad decided that we would load up
one of our cars with only the bare necessities.
My three older siblings were grown and already out on their own which
meant my mom would take my youngest brother Rodney and me on down ahead of my
dad so we could start school. The three
of us would move in with my Aunt and Uncle in their 3-bedroom 2-bath home along
with four of their five children; making a total of nine humans and one large
Doberman all living in 1250 sq. feet. My
dad would stay behind till he could sell the house and the business; then join us
as soon as possible. I know. What were they thinking, right?
Actually, the
experience of bunking up with the cousins is a memory of a lifetime. I enjoyed the closeness…most of the
time. The morning routine proved the
roughest interval to maintain an acceptable level of sanity. With only two bathrooms and seven people all
needing to be ready at the same time you can imagine the bedlam.
One of those
mornings the chaos grew especially hectic.
My aunt, trying to herd the six of us into her five-passenger car with
all of our backpacks and gym bags, squeaked out in a panic, “Hurry up we’re
going to be late…again!”
Invariably someone
would holler, “I can’t find my shoes! Has
anyone seen my other shoe? Stephen, did
you take it? Where is it? Someone help me find it!”
My cousin Stephen fired
back, “Why would I take your shoe, you dork?”
Then another would
shout, “Hurry up, I can’t have another tardy or I’ll get detention! Why don’t you find your stuff the night before
like the rest of us! Ahh yuck! Who
spilled the milk and didn’t clean it up?
I just stepped in it! Now I need a new pair of socks. Mom, where are the clean socks?”
She’d reply, “You
don’t have time. You’ll just have to
wear those today. I said get in the car!”
Grumble, grumble,
grumble….
Then another,
“Mom, where is that paper I asked you to sign?
I gotta have it today.” Each voice managed to crank up the volume level
overriding the last speaker, ensuring they were heard in this simultaneous and
confusing conversation.
I happened to be
the only girl in the bunch and unfortunately I have an overactive sense of
responsibility. So naturally, any
disaster the boys may be having, I felt it my duty to rescue as much as feasible.
I’d wipe up the milk, hunt for the shoe, unless I also needed to secretly hunt
for my own. Barely 7:30 in the morning and
all of us were already exhausted.
The insecurities
of being a sophomore in a new high school and trying to make my way only added
to the weariness. Everything required an
effort. Where do I sit for lunch? Does
that cute guy really keep watching me or is he staring at my flatter- than- a-
pancake, humidity-suffering hairdo wondering, “Why doesn’t that girl do something
with that straw looking stuff on top of her head”? There is a reason there is only one letter
difference between humidity and humility.
What hall do I take to get to my 3rd period class?
I am going to try to call everyone I know by name today… if I can
remember them… I didn’t regret this
new adventure. I knew God had planned
it. Sometimes it just overwhelmed
me. Today happened to fall into the “What
in the Sam Hill were my parent’s thinking?” category.
By the time the
sardine can of an automobile had been packed with book bags, football pads for
after school practice, a trumpet for marching band, my cheerleading bag and oh,
yeah, five students and one school secretary, the sour mood sloshing around in
the car would have intoxicated even the strongest Positive Pearls in the world.
I confess. My attitude stunk. I was tired of it; everyone out for
themselves. Not enough room in the
car. Not enough time in the
bathroom. Barely enough food in the
cupboard and no one ever seemed to help with the dishes. And now I’m going to have to walk in late to
my new school… yet again! Everyone will
be staring at me. My hair and this
Florida humidity make me want to slink by the edges of the hallway, not parade
across the room to the empty seat up front next to that guy. Or should I pick the other seat next to the
other guy? Ugh.
About the time I’d
decided to pull out the knife and slit my wrist in peace, my Aunt slammed on
the brakes- as to not run the stop sign and eject us into the oncoming traffic whizzing
past us. As all six of us whiplashed
back to our seats from the sudden thrust she threw these words over her
shoulder, “Just be thankful you’re not in a prison camp!”
You might as well
have dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.
Her statement stunned me. And then it just plain irritated me. How dare she say this wasn’t a stressful and
ridiculous way to live?
I repeated the
phrase in my mind, mainly out of disgust and shock at her audacity. (Which for my aunt appeared quite audacious
since she had the patience of Job and rarely stood up for herself or told
anyone off.) But as I repeated the quote, somewhere mid-sentence I visualized
the reality of her words, “Just be thankful you’re not in a prison camp.” I had read The Hiding Place by Corrie
ten Boon. I vividly recalled the horror
of those camps. Before I knew it, the statement settled into my heart and
suddenly I saw with new eyes.
Yes! Thank God I didn’t have to be in a prison
camp today! These obtrusive gym bags
piled on top of me, wrinkling my clothes, are a sign that I get to be part of a
fun school with lots of extras. Running
late meant we wouldn’t be required to wait outside for the doors to open,
allowing the humidity more time to work it’s magic. Tonight I’m going home to a
safe place with choices of where to go and what to eat. I’m surrounded by
people who, although they stress me out once in a while, also make me laugh
until I wet my pants; people who love me and want what is best for me. I’m not afraid of them. In fact, they are
some of my favorite people in the whole wide world! Yes, thank you God, I’m not in a prison camp.
