This story is from a book I wrote in the 1990s. It’s my most vivid childhood memory of Christmas.
I couldn’t forget the look on my mother’s face when I opened my Christmas present from my grandfather. I was about 12 years old. My mother’s father lived in California; we now lived in Georgia. Gifts and letters had replaced lively visits to his apartment. Read the rest of this entry »
I haven’t always called myself God’s beloved daughter-child. For years I wouldn’t have dared presume such a high-minded view of myself. How did this happen? And how might this help me think about what I believed when I was 11 years old?
This post is about the first question: How did this happen? The second will wait. Thanks for being patient. If I don’t address today’s topic first, I’ll end up picking my childhood theology to pieces. Read the rest of this entry »
As a child, my survival theology was short and to the point: (1) God would NEVER beat me like this, and (2) Jesus loves me no matter what, and wants to spend time with me.
My two small truths traveled well. Read the rest of this entry »
It’s 1954. We just finished breakfast, and are sitting around the dinner table. Sister #4 is about one year old. Mother is holding her at one end of the table. Daddy is sitting at the ‘head’ of the table. Sisters #2 and #3 and I are present. We don’t know it, but Sex Ed 101 for Daughters is about to begin. Read the rest of this entry »
Am I ready? Never. But I want to begin somewhere. So here goes.
Jesus, Mary and all other daughters of Eve
Female bodies were not celebrated in my family. Too bad. When I was a child and young teenager my female body was regularly ignored, observed, commented upon, shamed, ridiculed, Read the rest of this entry »
Hunger. A fierce, relentless presence. Sometimes for food when I was a child, later for sisterly conversation. Not friendly polite talk, but safe, open, honest two-way conversation about our fears, agonies and dreams as we were growing up in the 1950s.
It wasn’t that we consciously chose not to talk with each other as sisters; it just wasn’t safe. Besides, back then I wasn’t aware of being hungry for this. I focused instead on staying out of trouble. Sadly, I didn’t pull that off very well. Read the rest of this entry »
As boyfriends go, grades 5 to 7 were my Golden Girl Years. Artie was it. I felt a little attraction toward him—especially when he gave me gifts. But it was miniscule compared to his pursuit of me which included regular pleas for me to ‘help’ him with his homework.
Artie was my only designated boyfriend before I went to college at age 16. In fact, I arrived at college without having had one single date. This doesn’t mean I was oblivious to boys. Here’s my annotated true confessions list of boys Read the rest of this entry »
Short answer: No. Nothing you say or do will change this family rule. The other answer always freaked me out and embarrassed me. No, because bodily contact between women and men when they dance and are not married to each other mimics sexual intercourse. The first step down the path of moral destruction. Read the rest of this entry »
When I read through my list of survival rules, my heart sinks. By age 7 or 8 I’ve found a way to do what Daddy wants me to do by explaining it to myself my way. For all my supposed independent thinking and determination to be my own person with my own will and my own voice, I failed. Or did I? Read the rest of this entry »
By the time I’m 7 or 8 years old, I have a daunting list of survival rules. Later they backfire in every part of my life. In the meantime, they have the virtue of seeming to get me through. Here they are, Read the rest of this entry »
Telling the Truth 