When “Hardships” Make for Special Memories

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It’s easy to want everything to be perfect for our children, when, truth be told, “hardships” might make for better memories.

We had one natural gas heater in the home where I grew up, plus a small electric space heater in the only bathroom. On cold winter mornings, Mother did something I’ve read you should never do: she left the oven door open to heat the kitchen. I wouldn’t exactly call it a warm house . . . .

I mentioned many months ago about the time that our goldfish bowl froze overnight. I tried to fix the problem by putting the bowl on the gas heater to reverse the harm that had come to the fish, but thawing out a frozen goldfish bowl isn’t like hitting the control-shift-z on my keyboard. Turns out the fish didn’t fare any better in warm water than they had in frozen.

Yes, our house was cold. Still, with that big tan gas heater in the living room, there was always a place to get warm. I would warm the back side of my legs until they got red and then turn around to warm the front.

I did something else at the heater that I am positive parents would be warned against today. I laid paper on top of the heater and colored it with crayons. I loved how the melted wax turned my pictures into stained glass, but talk about dangerous! Whew! The effect was beautiful to my young eyes, but I’ve never thought of a safe way to accomplish the same effect. Please don’t share this post with your children. You don’t want to give your young artists any ideas!

I love winter. Growing up in a cold house didn’t diminish that at all. Perhaps it only enhanced it.

On Saturday we dropped my mother off for several days at an assisted living in my hometown. She goes there on occasion when Ray and I need to go somewhere. It’s a wonderful opportunity for her. She gets to visit the church where she has been a member for what will be sixty years in October, visit with longtime friends who live at the assisted living all the time, and spend extra time with my brother and his family.

As we drove away from my hometown toward the Interstate, we drove through one of my favorite spots on earth. It’s a short stretch of road between my hometown and my Daddy Leland and Mama Sue’s house seven miles out in the country. I don’t know how many times I have ridden on Highway 49 between Ed Harris Road and Sycamore Creek and loved the beauty of that short stretch where you see nothing but high tree-covered hills on both sides of the road and a little creek running along one side.

That stretch takes me back to snow days when we got to have a day off from school. I don’t know if it happened one time or a dozen, but it often makes me think of my Daddy Leland driving me to his house so I could play in the snow with my Aunt Emily, just eighteen months older than myself.

A Tennessee Snow
A Tennessee Snow–This isn’t that stretch. I’ll try to take a picture of it the next chance I get and show you. Today, we’ll just have to settle for this Tennessee snow in our neck of the woods last winter.

I vaguely remember having one pair of snow boots of my own as a child, but what I remember most is wearing the white rubber ones that belonged to my mother. Sometimes I didn’t have those with me at Mama Sue’s, so, to protect my feet from the snow, Mama Sue would cover my shoes with bread sacks and pull on rubber bands to hold them up on my ankles. Then Emily and I would play in the snow before coming in to eat Mama Sue’s wonderful snow cream.

One of my favorite snow experiences was the time when Mother left her work indoors and went outside with my little brother Steve and me and went sledding with us on the hill beside our house. We have wonderful pictures of that day.

It’s the simple memories and the “hardships” and the time with special people — like brothers and daddies and mamas and Daddy Lelands and Mama Sues and Aunt Emilys — that can bring back the sweetest memories, so try not to worry if everything isn’t exactly perfect at your house.

He gives snow like wool;
He scatters the frost like ashes.
Psalm 147:16

An apology: I want to give a hearty thank you to those of you who have written me in the last month or so. I usually try to respond on the day I hear from you, but this From Adam to Us deadline has been all-consuming for several weeks. It is my intention still to answer your emails and to respond to the comments you leave on the blog site, including those from the last few weeks. Please forgive me for being very slow in responding and please be patient with me for a few more days. It may take me a few days after the deadline to get caught up on my email. With a grateful heart, Charlene

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