Tuesday, July 14, 2015

The Yard that Grew Me: A Memoir

This past year in school, my final project for my Woman's Writings class was to write a memoir. We were able to cover any event, any time, in any way we wanted. The goal of the assignment was to learn how to categorize memories, and organize them in a way that can be read and understood by anyone, even if they had never met you, or knew anything about your situation. I thought I would share a portion of my paper with you. I received an A+ on this paper, which definitely encouraged me to want to continue reliving not only my past memories, but also the ones of those before me, who play a large part in who I am, and where I have come from. Hope you enjoy.


     The weeping willow tree which once used to be the best tree in the yard is now just a stack of wood on the side of the toolshed. It’s so strange to think that something so big and special and important looking is now nothing more than a stack of wood. The tree, though, is only one of the dozens of things that have changed in the backyard over the past fifteen years. I watch old home movie that either I or one of my family members filmed outside when we were either playing as little kids, or a little older and making movies, and I find it isn’t the people in the videos that I’m focused on; it’s the setting behind us.
     I’m sure when the video was filmed, it wasn’t our thought that in a year or so that place which we always saw as normal would be completely different. How was I supposed to know that my favorite climbing tree was going to get struck by lightning and have to be cut down? I didn’t realize that the patch of tulips that grew annually by the back fence would one year just stop growing completely. I didn’t know, and because of that, it didn’t seem important that I remember.
   I think that’s the way it is with a lot of things – people get too caught up in the future and forget to take a closer look at the present, because tomorrow, the present is going to be the past, and that chance that was once had is now gone. As I think back on my childhood, I do feel a strong sense of nostalgia which makes me a little sad; yet at the same time, I am thankful that I was blessed with memories worth remembering.
   S. Road seems to be one of the roads in Monroe that separates the business of the city and the quietness of the country. When I look out my bedroom window, I can see a horse pasture. Behind my house there is nothing but miles of field. Beyond the fields is Munson Park, though it isn’t visible behind the thick treetops that make up the Munson woods.
    During the spring and fall months, it is not uncommon to see the bright lights of the combine tractor making its way through the darkness in the fields where headlights are not usually seen. When I was little, I used to wonder what would happen if the combine tractor accidently found its way into our backyard, crushing the wood fence my dad made and knocking over a tree or two in the process. I’m still waiting for this to happen.
    The history behind the property my house sits on could be a story of its own. Back in the twenties it was nothing but trees and a small shed that sat toward the center of the property, which held the entrance to an underground room. It is there where bootlegging went on during the Prohibition. Though it is rare now, it used to be very common to find pieces of glass bottles around the property. During the forties, the property was used as a hangout place for teenagers. My grandfather remembers going to parties that took place there before he went to Europe to fight in World War II. When the war ended, he came back home to Monroe and purchased the property, along with several other plots of land in Monroe.
    My dad has told me stories of growing up on the property. Though he didn’t live there as a child, the land was used as a family garden. Dad recalls spending many summers taking care of the land, and harvesting fruits and vegetables in the late summer months. When my dad graduated from High School, his father let him purchase the piece of property from him for only one dollar. Within ten years, a house would be built on the land that would be the beginning to family memories, both good and bad.
   Because of my surroundings, it would be assumed that S. Road would be a rather quiet place; that a walk down to the Library a tenth of a mile down the road would be simple and enjoyable. I wish that were the case, but ever since I’ve lived here, (which has been nearly twenty years) the cars that travel down S. Road don’t understand the idea of slow and steady. Even now, my mom is hesitant when I ask to walk down to the library during the summer. She is still afraid I am going to get hit by a reckless driver on that three minute walk. I’m not surprised by this, though; although her life before me and my brothers was dauntless, she has always been extremely protective when it came to our safety. The idea of riding a bike without a helmet would never get by her. Yet even with all this protection she has bestowed upon us, we all still ended up hurt or injured in some way or another.
   My biggest injury was back in first grade when my clumsy feet tripped over each other and I ended up with a broken arm. The rest of that year I was referred to as “Niagara” by my teacher. It wasn’t until several years later when I finally understood what she had meant.
   Collin, who is the second oldest, and directly under me was never one for outdoor activities. But the occasional time he would decide to play a game of catch or go swimming with us, (which was not often) he would always seem to end up inside early due to an “injury.” This could range from a number of things from hurting his wrist from “throwing the ball too hard,” to getting upset when the excited dog would accidently scratch him. In my opinion, he was not outside long enough in his lifetime to experience one injury, let along one every time he stepped outside. I love my brother, but do not expect to get a good response from him if he is experiencing something hard, uncomfortable, dirty, or gross,
   Cameron, who is the second youngest, probably would have been born outside if he could have planned it. Ever since he was little he has loved the outdoors. Even now he is working at a farm 12 months a year cutting and bundling wood. The majority of the money he made from this job went to buy hunting supplies. His first time out hunting, he came back with a deer which he gutted and skinned himself after reading a hunting magazine to learn how to do it.
   Cameron is naturally also the toughest of us kids. He has experienced his share of cuts and bee stings, and always seems to handle them as if nothing happened; by taking care of it and then getting back to business. But one year, Cameron was faced with something he couldn’t just ignore. He has this skin condition that causes large bumps on his face, arms, and back whenever he gets too cold. This happens whenever he goes swimming, or outside during the winter. Back then, we didn’t know he had this condition. So when we were playing outside one day, I noticed his face was not only swollen, but also bright red. I remember running in to tell dad that something was wrong with Cameron. He went to the ER that night and had several tests done to find out about the skin condition. He has since grown out of the majority of it, though welts will still be visible on his arms and back if he gets extremely cold.
   Thankfully, none of the injuries were ever life threatening, though at the time they may have seemed like it. We did some pretty stupid stuff that as I look back, it was a surprise we didn’t get more hurt. One of these examples involves my dad’s favorite part of the yard, his hammock.
For the longest time, we weren’t allowed to go near the hammock. We didn’t understand why until we used it one day knowing full well we weren’t supposed to and ended up cracking it in half. Needless to say, dad was not very happy about that.
   But later as we became more responsible, dad would give us the opportunity to use it when he was outside watching us.
   We used to play a game called “finishing net in the storm.” This was something we made up on our own, where basically one person would sit in the hammock. They would have to hold on as tightly as they could while the other person would rock it back and forth very violently. Eventually, the net would turn upside down. The goal was for the “fish” in the “net” to keep holding on.
   This was not as easy task, mind you, and the majority of the time after we first started, one of us would end up face down in the grass underneath it. But we quickly got the hang of it, and were able to stay holding on to the hammock without falling off.
   Evan, my youngest brother who was probably five at the time, would watch us play this game and want to play as well. We told him the rules, and figured he would understand like the rest of us. But the first time we swung the hammock over, he went flying out, not realizing he was supposed to hold on. He hit his mouth on a tree root, and his front two teeth were damaged. They turned an interesting gray color. When they fell out several years later, the adult teeth that followed were crooked and discolored. This was due to our belief that he was old enough to know better.

   But just because some painful things may have happened doesn’t mean there weren’t any fun events either. In fact, the majority of my memories involve the good. My brothers and I were able to become more than just siblings and better friends.  

Tuesday, June 9, 2015

This is My Story

New beginnings are so refreshing.

I remember when I was a kid, I always looked forward to the start of the new school year. Why? Because it was the start of something brand new and fresh. I had a brand new backpack filled with school supplies that were in mint condition. I couldn't wait to fill up my empty desk with my folders and school books that I had never opened before. The school hallways and classrooms were filled with smells that had been absent from my nose all summer long. Finally, I was back in the school where I would spend the next nine months. I knew the coming year wouldn't be easy. I knew there would be times when I didn't want to go back, but it didn't matter what happened, or was going to happen; the first day of school was always pleasant for me, because that one day started something new.

I am saying all of this because like my first days of elementary school, this blog is brand new as well. I am not new to the blogging world; I have been blogging since I was thirteen years old. It's so hard to believe that I started Sammy's Blog six years ago. Although it was quite rough at times, and the grammar could have used a little extra work, I am pretty surprised how well I did for a thirteen year old who wrote about her dolls.

As the years went on, my posts started to change quite a bit, and several months ago I decided that I was going to but that blog to rest. I have changed quite a bit over the past six years. It was obvious when reading my blog posts. Of course change is not a bad thing, and growing up is necessary. If my life still only evolved around dolls and Disney like it did back when I was thirteen, well, there may be a problem. So after a several month break, I have decided to start blogging once again. Welcome to the new Sammy's Blog.

Echos of Mercy is a line from the popular Crosby hymn Blessed Assurance. When coming up with a title for this blog, I wanted something that represented what this blog was going to contain. I have always loved the idea of naming blogs after lyrics from songs, so I found myself going through my playlists trying to find something that stood out. He is We, Ed Sheeran, and Taylor Swift were observed, but none of them seemed to be what I was looking for. The majority of these singer's/band's songs have to do with romance of some sort. At this point in life, that is not really something I feel represents who I am. That's when I turned to hymns.

Though my first blog was originally named Sammy's Blog, I later changed it to something less generic, I suppose. Saved by Grace is the name of a hymn, also by Fanny Crosby. I love learning about hymn writers, and find Crosby's testimony so inspiring. If you don't know about her childhood, you should definitely look it up; it's fascinating. I decided to then go back to where I had originally gone. When I saw Blessed Assurance on the playlist, I seemed to have found what I was looking for.

At this point in my life, I don't know what my future holds. I have a lot of questions that don't seem to hold any answers. Where will I go after I get my associates degree? What field of study is right for me? Will I ever get married? Should I be doing more with my life? I oftentimes find myself strangled in these questions. I just want answers, though it doesn't seem like I will be getting any in the near future. That's where my problem lies; I want to know everything now, when in actuality, I should be spending my time praying for God's will in my life. He says that He knows the plans for me, and they aren't to harm me or cause me failure, but instead He insures a hope filled future. He also says that all things will work together for those who love Him.

And that is where the title of this blog comes from. Constantly throughout my nineteen years, I have proved again and again that I am far from perfect. I don't deserve a good life, though God promises that He will take care of me. He is showing me mercy. Sometimes I wonder if that's really the case. Bad things can, and do happen to me. But it's when I hear the echos of mercy and whispers of love that remind me that God is there and is taking care of me. He sees the entire picture. He knows what my future holds, and I have to remember that even though the road can be bumpy at times, it is leading down the path God has for me that is filled with hope and a future.

I invite you to come along with me down this path into wherever I'm supposed to go. You can do that by subscribing to this new blog of mine, and showing your support. The more readers I have, the more convicted I'll be to keep this blog up. I also want you to know that you, whoever you are reading this is more than just a reader on this blog. I want you to know that you will be considered my friends. I want to make it a goal to pray for every one of you, so if you have something you want me to pray for, please leave me a comment or send me an email at SammySleuth@gmail.com. I will make it my priority to lift up your needs, whether you are a sibling in Christ or not. It's what friends do for each other.

Thank you for coming to my new blog, and I hope that you will come with me as I start down this road ahead, praising my Savior all the day long. 

Samantha