Who and what do you remember from your childhood? Adults who
influenced and loved you? Kids down the street who played in your yard?
Teachers and schoolyards? Birthday parties and sleepovers? Relatives now gone?
Friends who tragically died too young?
A childhood friend recently created a Facebook page to
record memories from our neighborhood elementary school. The stories being posted take me back to events almost forgotten and people of long ago, the majority
of whom have not been a part of my life for decades.
A post yesterday reminded me of one of God’s long-ago gifts
to me—our next-door neighbors. Because Roger and Edna had no children, they
somewhat adopted us as their own. Roger affectionately called us two girls Big Sugar
and Little Sugar. I learned from him that men are not all alike; while he fished,
worked on cars, and actually cooked, my dad did none of those things. Roger’s
baked fish, barbeque sauce, and apple pies were fabulous. He took a special
interest in helping me learn to write in cursive. When I was a teenager, he
hired me to help him in his business during busy season. I never met a sweeter
woman than his wife. She was my second-grade teacher, and the hardest thing about it was not calling her Edna. The last time I saw her was at my wedding
forty years ago, which she attended despite dealing with painful and crippling
arthritis.
It seems fitting to relive special memories at this time of year,
when we pause to thank God for his blessings. Part of who I am today is because
of the things that happened in that school and among the people who lived
around it--many other Roger and Ednas. I am grateful for a solid educational
foundation, for teachers who showed true care and love for their students, and
for a neighborhood where we were safe and free among people who were almost
like family.
Some of us have more painful memories of childhood, and it’s
not quite so easy to call out precious memories. But it seems that God
generally provides places of grace for each of us somewhere. I hope that you
will join me in taking time this month to remember that places of grace where
God broke through and met you through loving people and joyous events.
Posts
I remember my neighborhood in Augusta, GA. We kids had it made. Instead of an alley, there was a small woods behind our houses that started just a few doors down. The school and it's playground was just across the street and down two doors. Down a small hill from the playground was another woods where a large sewer drain had been abandoned years before. We roamed a four block area that was our kingdom. I don't think kids get much of a chance to do that this day and time.
ReplyDeleteJane, I think you are right about today. It's a shame that our world is so unsafe that children can't roam their own neighborhoods. Thanks for sharing a great memory!
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