I’m reading a book about a woman with a very difficult childhood who grows up to become a prostitute, and is eventually rescued from that life by the patient and courageous love of a man who marries her.
There is a point in the book where she and her husband welcome a struggling family in to share their small home. The former prostitute is very astounded by the love and playfulness she observes between members of the family. Her experience of a father who never wanted her and a mother who was depressed most of the time was worlds apart from the experience of the children in this family.
It made me think once again of my own childhood and how so many innocent and adorable children are not as lucky as I was. Children who are abused, or neglected, or subtly ignored by stepparents who have no place for them.
I was blessed to grow up in a family where my parents affirmed me, attended my sporting events, and tucked me into bed at night. I was blessed to have a family that sat down and ate dinner together each night.
Tonight, my Grandpa, Aunt Dawn, and Uncle Omar came to eat with my parents, my brother and me.
We got to hear stories about the female legacy in my family-
One story of my mom, home alone with her older (by 7 years) brother as a child and frightened by a storm. Her parents came home to find her brother hiding under a chair and my mom sitting atop the chair with a baseball bat:)
Another story of my grandpa and great aunts taking on a team of male cousins in baseball. My Great Aunt Elsie was such a good pitcher that they couldn’t even get on base:)
We enjoyed meatloaf and fried potatoes with apple pie for dessert.
God’s grace today was in the opportunity to sit and enjoy a meal with family.