“I
praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”
Psalms
139:14
The thing is, everyone just wants to be loved. That’s my story. Plain and simple.
My story begins peering out my kindergarten classroom
window. As blurry as those days are,
life became crystal clear at Marion Elementary School in upstate New York. I had my first broken bone. I watched with envy as the rest of my class
played outside in the snow. I distinctly
remember feeling disconnected and I didn’t like the feeling one bit.
Actually, my journey begins in my birthplace, five years
before, in Sodus, NY. My parents were
young and self-proclaimed “unprepared” parents.
They struggled through the usual stuff…finances, family dynamics, and
the future. I was their first attempt at
writing their own stories as adults. My
memories of those times roll through my brain like a very broken movie
reel.
A puppy named Angel
A Red Rocking Chair
Birth of my First Brother
Cutting down Christmas Trees on Austin Road
The broken movie reel became a continuous thread as I
watched my friends sled down the hill from inside my classroom. I guess it’s my most vivid early memory
because of the feeling attached.
I was sad.
A few apartments and several classrooms later and my parents
bought a home in Flint, NY. I remember
crying the entire ten-mile trip in the moving truck. I couldn’t be excited about the move because
it was located in a new school district.
As a nine-year old girl, I hated to leave my teachers and friends.
A month later, I walked into Gorham Elementary wearing a
white and blue lace dress that Grandma Dee had bought at a yard sale. I had shiny white shoes and my mom had curled
my hair. None of those things made me
feel better about the situation. I
missed my old school.
My principal, Mr. Young, had kind eyes and a big smile. As he led me to my classroom, he told me all
of the wonderful things about the school.
I didn’t hear much. I just wanted
to find my desk and sink into it until the end of the day.
I was alone.
My home on 5 and 20 was an adolescents dream. It was a one hundred year old farmhouse with
eighteen rooms on five acres. There were
plenty of places to disappear and create a world far from that of a struggling
young person.
Mowing the Lawn Listening to Bon Jovi
Writing in the Goat Barn
Bike Rides down Goose Street
My parents always promoted an open home. They would treat anyone that walked through
the door like they were family. This
included my group of friends. On any
given night, mom would have cookies coming out of the oven and dad would fire
up the grill for some Zweigles hots.
I spent my time as a teenager involved in everything. I played softball and soccer, participated in
marching band and winterguard, and had a booming social life. I craved spending time with those I loved. I spent every Wednesday night and Sunday
morning seated on the front pew of my dad’s church. It was a life that was polarized. I loved every minute of it, but yet found
ways to struggle through those times.
It was because of this culture that I was apprehensive to
leave when the time came to select my college destination. After many tears and arguments, I abruptly
decided to attend Lee College, a small Christian school 800 miles away from my
home.
I was scared.
Change is hard. It’s
natural that with change comes feelings of sadness, loneliness, and fear. When I think about my story, there is a
distinct separation of the times when I didn’t know and the times I did.
The rest of the story…
“For
you created my inmost being;
You
knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I
praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Your
works are wonderful, I know that full well.”
Psalms
139:13-14
It’s quite simple. My
story is completely wrapped around a beautiful love. After many heart breaks and bittersweet loss,
his proclamation of love was my only redemption. I stopped searching for it. I stopped trying to get attention for
it. I stopped seeking comfort from those
that couldn’t give it. What I found in
that place was a tremendous peace and faith.
I remain wonderfully
fearful of his works in my life.
A Beautiful Family
A Job I Love
A life I Don’t Deserve
Woven by Him.
I have had my share of disappointments and despair over the
past 41 years. They pale in comparison
to the joy I experience daily. It is not
a bubbly, giddy elation. It is a
blessed, content peace that despite my hopelessly-flawed, human self…
HE LOVES ME.
And he loves you too.
~ao
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