The Beach

Ann remembers going to the beach.

I love the beach. Why can't I remember going to the beach?

Chattanooga

When I was little, we made one move to Chattanooga. We lived in a trailer in a trailer park. Apparently we weren't going to be there very long.

It was before Ann was born.

There was only one bedroom and the bed was so big that the door wouldn't shut. That's where I slept. The bedspread was pink. Mother and Daddy slept on a couch that wasn't a sleeper bed but more like and old timey futon. It just kind of laid down into a bed. I only remember Daddy in the mornings.

In my memories, the trailer park is deserted except for one woman. She must have been the manager. I remember leaves and a pool. I remember mother and I going to a park - just the park as if from a distance. Not that we did anything just that we were there. I don't remember swings or slides or sand. Just a park.

Lunch out!

Well, this just doesn't happen very often for school teachers! Lunch out and at the Piedmont Club even!

It was a bit late at 1:30, but the students didn't leave until noon. It was scrumptious and we had entertainment even. Lovely event.

Ruth missed it though, she's prepping for her surgery. It would, of course, been better with her.

Full Disclosure

Nothing was ever discussed fully.

You want to go to college? OK, apply. That was my college talk.

Daddy had open heart surgery and I found out after he'd had it.

Your Father's been married before. I was a teenager when I found that out. Something was about to happen. mmmm Maybe that was the year I had a brother. Maybe that was the year his exwife called everyday.

Mother made Barbie clothes. She also sold them - that I didn't know until I saw my next door neighbor with the same Barbie clothes I had. She'd gotten hers from Santa. I told her where they really came from. Shouldn't have done that.

Information was doled out in bits and pieces or no pieces. Just enough to make you wonder what was happening. Just enough to keep everyone on their toes.

I spent a lot of time in my room.

Anger

I was angry. My dad was angry. I doubt he knew it. He ground his teeth down to stubs. He had a bleeding ulcer. He threw things. He slammed things. I learned from a master. If I had to be like a parent, and in reality we most always do, then I would be like my dad.

So I boiled. I baked. I steamed. I broke things. Small things. Big things. I could pop a pencil in two really fast. I broke a microwave door once. I'm not embarrassed by that anymore. It's part of my distant past.

So in what other way did God draw me to him?

When the kids were older children or early teens, I heard someone use the verse about the sins of the fathers being visited on the next seven generations. I heard seven. Maybe they said seven.

Here's the actual Scripture: (Exodus 34:6-7) - "Then the Lord passed by in front of him and proclaimed, "The Lord, the Lord God, compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in lovingkindness and truth; 7who keeps lovingkindness for thousands, who forgives iniquity, transgression and sin; yet He will by no means leave the guilty unpunished, visiting the iniquity of fathers on the children and on the grandchildren to the third and fourth generations."

These verses really bothered me and I didn't know why. I mulled over them. I didn't know why I couldn't put them down. They bothered me for a long time. It just didn't seem fair that we were held responsible for the things our parents or grandparents did. But the reality is that some sins are reflected in a vicious cycle. Now you probably know the what & why that I didn't. I hadn't given everything to God. I held my anger like a badge. I deserved to be angry! BUT I had to give it up. It had to be sacrificed at his feet, in his name, and for his glory. If my desire was to please him. If I wanted my children not to bear the scars that I have, then it had to stop. I claim victory. AND he gives victory!