I was a shy and insecure little girl. I didn’t have lots of friends and I certainly was not popular. I was picked on for one reason or another. I never understood it because all I did was try to be nice. I was perhaps, in the eyes of others, a little peculiar or odd maybe. Of course I didn’t feel that way and just wished to be seen, heard and understood. We were poor, so I didn’t have cool clothes, shoes or really anything for that matter. Many times my mother made our clothes. She was excellent on the sewing machine and made us all kinds of things. What I remember most were frilly dresses with bows and lace. To this day, when I see bows and lace, I cringe. Just wasn’t me...still isn’t. She dressed my little sister and I like twins many times. Later on in life I would find out it was because she wanted twins so badly. I hated it because I wanted to be my own person, I wanted my own identity. We were referred to as “the girls” most of the time, and when people said our names they almost ran them together as one. Otherwise, they would mix up our names, and call me by my sisters, or her by mine. When it was my birthday, she would get a gift too. Even my birthday wasn’t my own. For all my growing up years it would drive me crazy. I just wanted to be “me”.
Every kid just wants to fit in but I surely didn’t, for many reasons. Not only was I shy and insecure, with handmade clothes, but my life seemed so different from other kids. My world was so small. Everything revolved around my father’s ministry and that was the priortiy in our household. My parents did not have 9 to 5 jobs and were home most of the time. We were not allowed to be in sports or after school activiites. Not only could we not afford them, but my dad was not gonna run around shuffling kids back and forth when he had so many other important things to do. He was saving lives. It was okay by me because I wasn’t super driven to join in. I rarely had play dates, unless it was with the few kids in our neighborhood, but I had my little sister. We were close to one particular neighbor girl who lived right next door and she would be a big part of our lives, not only then but, to this day.
The elementary school was only about a block away from our house. I remember using the bathroom at one end of the school frequently and when I would wash my hands, in the big round communal sink, outside of the boys and girls bathroom, I could look out the glass doors and see our house - or a good part of it anyway. I would linger around the sink while washing my hands, hoping I would get a glimpse of my mom and dad, wishing I could go home, wondering what they were doing. I used the little girls room many more times than I actually had to go, just so I could look out and see home. I experienced the same feelings when we played on the playground behind the school. Some days when they let us out for recess I just wanted to run home…all the way home and never look back.
We rarely went out to eat and never went to the movies or anything like that. I feel like we didn’t do much that was typical. Quite the opposite. The two big weekly events were a Bible Study, that my father taught ever week, and Tuesday night dinners at grandma’s house. I would primarily see my mom’s side of the family at grandma’s Tuesday night dinners; aunts, uncles, cousins but it was open to anyone, especially if they didn’t have a place to go. My grandma was always was cooking up a storm and making delicious food - comfort food. There was always the smell of fresh baked bread in her home on a Tuesday night. She cooked very midwestern food; meatballs and scalloped potatoes, a variety of hot dishes, or what most know as casseroles, and what I know now to be with a scandanavian flair. After all she was primarily norwegian, or a “norsky”, and very proud of it. My grandma was incredibly special to me. She was always so sweet, caring and loved to laugh. She had a tremendous laugh, very jolly, and her face lit up so gloriously. She loved to play cards and dice games too. If I looked up the definition of “ grandma" I would expect to see a picture of her there, because I can’t imagine anyone fulfilling the description of one better than her. Not to mention, she had one of those giant freezers in her kitchen full of ice cream treats! We would lift the lid and oogle at all the delicious choices. I’ll never forget the first time I ever got car sick, and we ended up at grandma’s, she had what she called a "home remedy" for it. She gave me just a little coffee, with cream, in a cup and a little ice cream in another cup. As I sipped a little hot coffee and ate a little cold ice cream, my naseua and headache started to go away little by little. It worked!! She was full of those great old remedies and passed many of them on to my mom, who used them too as we were growing up.
My father, on the other hand, was incredibly strict and ruled his house with a rod of iron. We were raised by the word of God and all of its godly principles. He did not tolerate disobedience and always quoted Ephesians 6:1; Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right, or Colossians 3:20; Children, be obedient to your parents in all things, for this is well-pleasing to the Lord. Whenever we were bad he would sit us down and open his Bible and explain to us what he, and God, expected of us. He took great care in discipling us the way God had laid out in His word. He knew that he needed to be a good manager of his children and his household, as it says in 1 Timothy 3:12, to be a minister of God and he wanted to be a good example for others as well. He counseled many families who needed help. People were always coming and going from our house it seemed. Some, that had no place to live, stayed with us, or maybe they were getting over something and had no where to turn. He never turned down an opportunity to serve God by helping others. Our home was a place of refuge to anyone who needed it, and to my knowledge, no one was ever turned away. My dad was an icredibly imposing figure in our house, but it was all for a good cause. He wasn’t perfect, he was just a man, trying to raise and support a family while honoring his calling from the Lord wholeheartedly. I admired him for that.
I might have grown up differently in many ways, but for the most part, I loved my life for all it was - good and bad. I loved my family. They were everything to me. They were my whole world and I was content with keeping it small. Of course I daydreamed about things I didn’t have and things I wasn’t able to do, on occasion, wondering what a different life would be like….but I always came back to the love. The love that was our home, our family and that filled my heart.
♥️LGOF