Sometimes, it does take a 2x4 whacking me "upside the head" to get my attention. But occasionally I can get the point in more subtle ways. God has used several different sources this morning to remind me that, in spite of my imperfect past history--I am blessed--have been blessed in so many ways more than most.
I'm currently reading a book by one of my new favorite authors, who just so happens to be a Southerner and from my own great home state of Alabama. Though he arrived on this red clay soil only months before, and grew up less than a hundred miles northeast of where I was born, our life histories are worlds apart.
Never do I remember going to bed hungry. There may have been meals that stretched a dollar as tight as a rubber band, but I never knew it. I may have gotten cold on winter nights, but I could always jump out of bed in my favorite "Tomato Soup Red" flannel pajamas and stand in front of the wall heater. Then just when I began to feel like a bowl of hot soup, I'd run and leap back into bed under the warmth and security of one of grandmother's heavy quilts. Later, when we moved into "town" all I had to do was stand over the central heating vent and let the warm air blow up my flannel gown like a big balloon. And when my feet were warm...I'd run as quick as the wind and jump into my bed and snuggle under the covers. (I may not have mentioned this before...but when I was young...I ran all the time. Maybe that's a post for another day.)
There was always food and warmth and security in my little world. Imperfections...sure. But I remember fun times playing with my sisters and cousins. Visiting grandparents, aunts and uncles always meant lots of food and lots of fun. I always had clothes to wear and shoes for my feet, even when I would have preferred to go without shoes. We had plenty of toys and most importantly, BOOKS. Fortunately, my sisters enjoyed reading as well...so lots of books. My mother still has most of our childhood books at her house today unless we've carried them home with us. I devoured books like a fat kid eats cake. And, we always had the resources to feed my hunger. Although, I do remember lots of spankings and yelling and learning to deal with short tempers, I knew that I was loved. I may have hated that I never had the dog or cat that I wanted...but I was allowed the occasional gold fish from G.C. Murphy's. Birthdays were always a big production and mother always asked what sort of cake we wanted for our special day. She has even continued this tradition with all of the in-laws and grandchildren.
We were raised in church and learned from an early age that all our blessings came from God and to be thankful for each and every one. You might be too sick to go to school--which was very rare--but you were never too sick to go to church unless you were throwing up. My Christian upbringing is perhaps my most valuable possession from my past. I am grateful to my parents for giving that to my sisters and myself.
The purpose of this post? In recent months, I've found myself looking for excuses for my failures and lost dreams. As I mentioned in the last post, it's easiest to point the finger away from yourself when looking for a place to lay the blame. I've been convicted to search inside myself for answers...not just to continue to wallow in self-pity and remorse...but to try to discover how to rise above my past mistakes and failures and move forward. So, in retrospect, my life has been blessed beyond measure. It just takes a little bit of perspective to see that sometimes.
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