Kev & I are discovering more and more that we were so blessed growing up to have decent, loving, God-fearing parents. We are always a tiny percentage of the people in a group who didn't suffer some kind of trauma in childhood. That's pretty ghastly, considering the higher degree and prominence of morality in our parents' generation.
On a cheerier note, let's talk about me. I had a great childhood. Given the prevalence of traumatized people around me, I almost feel guilty about it. Almost. I grew up on five acres. My mom stayed home and took care of us, including working like a horse in the house and yard. My dad worked hard all day long, then he'd come home and work hard all evening, often with all of us helping. We were raised to respect our elders, have good manners, honor God, run away from cars that slowed way down to lure you into them, use your money wisely but still have some fun, wear clean underwear, eat all the food on your plate because people in China were starving, and clean up after yourself. The same stuff all my friends learned. We played in haystacks, hid in huge trees, rode bikes to the store and bought penny candy, rode horses to ponds and swam around saddle and all, and ice skated on those ponds after my dad skated around it with a broom to clear the snow. Then we'd sit around a fire to warm up and drink hot chocolate from those Thermos containers with the fragile glass innards. Yeah, the ones that actually kept things hot.
You can picture here the stuff movies are made of: cotton candy skies, butterfly fairies, enormous round moons, firefly twinkles, and the music that only the pure in heart hear and then enter into with dance. I know I'm guilty of the tendency to romanticize the past, omitting subconsciously or not, the real life stuff of fights, mistakes, regrets, and hurtful words. But the fact that I have so very many really great memories seems evidence enough to declare that I had a truly wonderful childhood. Hugs, loving words, praise, sacrifice, investments of time, money, and energy into us kids--these are things I experienced in abundance.
It is my heart's prayer that my children have more good memories than bad of their childhood and that they can be part of that blessed minority of the untraumatized. And that they are as deeply grateful as we are.
On a cheerier note, let's talk about me. I had a great childhood. Given the prevalence of traumatized people around me, I almost feel guilty about it. Almost. I grew up on five acres. My mom stayed home and took care of us, including working like a horse in the house and yard. My dad worked hard all day long, then he'd come home and work hard all evening, often with all of us helping. We were raised to respect our elders, have good manners, honor God, run away from cars that slowed way down to lure you into them, use your money wisely but still have some fun, wear clean underwear, eat all the food on your plate because people in China were starving, and clean up after yourself. The same stuff all my friends learned. We played in haystacks, hid in huge trees, rode bikes to the store and bought penny candy, rode horses to ponds and swam around saddle and all, and ice skated on those ponds after my dad skated around it with a broom to clear the snow. Then we'd sit around a fire to warm up and drink hot chocolate from those Thermos containers with the fragile glass innards. Yeah, the ones that actually kept things hot.
You can picture here the stuff movies are made of: cotton candy skies, butterfly fairies, enormous round moons, firefly twinkles, and the music that only the pure in heart hear and then enter into with dance. I know I'm guilty of the tendency to romanticize the past, omitting subconsciously or not, the real life stuff of fights, mistakes, regrets, and hurtful words. But the fact that I have so very many really great memories seems evidence enough to declare that I had a truly wonderful childhood. Hugs, loving words, praise, sacrifice, investments of time, money, and energy into us kids--these are things I experienced in abundance.
It is my heart's prayer that my children have more good memories than bad of their childhood and that they can be part of that blessed minority of the untraumatized. And that they are as deeply grateful as we are.
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