Before going further, I want to say to my family (for I know they will read this), by writing about this aspect of my life – there is no intention of causing anyone pain, guilt or any other negative emotions. We all have surrounded the same family tree of life and as such each have a separate section of bark to view and remember. This then is simply a tiny speck of my section of bark. The one of many our Lord has allowed me to view in order that I might know Him.
I want to also express to all who read this, that I greatly loved and respected my parents. They too were products of their upbringing and I believe as such, they did the best they could. It is my belief that they truly loved us – made mistakes at times (as we all do), but strove to bring us up the only way they could. I hold no bitterness or resentment toward them. My desire is to bless and not to curse. I am the youngest child of four, born to a couple that came from very different lives. There is exactly five years and one week between the eldest and myself. My great grandmother on Mum’s side had no maternal instincts and if it had not been for her eldest son Fred, all nine children would have starved. Her husband was an arrogant, proud man, who was at one stage very rich, being the Government tinsmith. He was known to sit on his verandah and proudly run golden coins through his fingers so that passers-by would know of his wealth. However this was all to change and there came a time when he became an extremely bad alcoholic and spent his wealth on drink. We were told he
sold most of their possessions also for the same addiction. He wasn’t there for the children either and so my grandmother grew up not really knowing what parental love was or how to express it. We often laugh at her prudishness, but also my speck of bark showed her as unforgiving and self-centred at times. I don’t think any of us ever received a birthday card from Grandma – but then again neither did any of my mother’s generation receive one from great-grandmother either.
course had that right, but grandparents and an Aunt and Uncle who also lived within the same block, also enjoyed this same privilege. Then of course so did my brothers and sister. I recall one of my teachers asking Mum, “Is she always so argumentative?” Of course Mum answered in the affirmative and then never ceased to remind me of the incident. To me, I thought I was just asking “Why?” or standing up for others and/or myself – you see, a strong sense of justice is also part of my personality. I never did have a lot of confidence, so if I felt I had at last achieved something; I remember going to Mum to show her what I had done— only to be sternly told, “You should never be proud!!”
On Dad’s side – Grandma and Grandpa were right nextdoor. Our memories of home life were surrounded always by their presence, love and support. However their presence also made it extremely hard for “A little girl with a little curl right in the middle of her forehead, And when she was good – she was very, very good, But when she was bad she was horrid!” Strong willed and rebellious, one of my pet hates was being bossed about, so with family surrounding us, I felt everyone did just that. Mum and Dad of
Our family was busy, intense, loud and argumentative. It is very possible that all four of us were driven by the same desire – a deep desire to be needed and loved. Dad was never home and when he was the arguments were constant and crescendoed at meal times. Mum, due to lack of money, had to go to work when I was nine. She never stopped working – day and night often till late in the night to achieve the mending, ironing and other household jobs she could not do during working hours. To stop for a kind word or a gentle cuddle was not done – or not to my memory at least. She showed her love by looking after us, feeding and clothing us. I know my Dad, who craved for physical touch felt this pain also, however Mum did too. After his (Continued on page 21)
The Heart Of A Woman Inc.
Spring 2005
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