We all know that our early childhood experiences will most likely affect each of us in a particular way. I sometimes find myself looking back at my past to understand why I think or act a certain way in the present.
I fondly remember the big weeping willow tree just off to the left of our house in the front yard. Being a bit of a tomboy, I often would swing from the dangling green branches which loomed overhead. I also vividly remember sled riding down the bank of the same hill where the weeping willow stood. Ok, it was a slope, but in my eyes, it was a hill.
I was definitely a girl who loved the outdoors.
No matter where I played outside, my mother could see me from all directions from the house. We had windows on all four sides. I can still see her face while pushing back the curtains to see if her little girl was still safe and sound.
As a Child Development Specialist, I know that parents are the most powerful influence on their children. I also know that how we relate in our childhood family relationships is how we learn to relate in our adulthood.
Let’s get back to my childhood memories.
My mother was and still is a very loving and caring woman. She always made sure, I along with my three brothers, learned the right and wrong of things. Oh how I remember the big Family Bible with its delicate pages and the vivid pictures of each story she read. She always made sure we said our prayers. She always made sure dinner was on the table each evening just as my dad would walk in the door from his coal mining job and she always made sure we used our manners when in public. My mother was and still is a wonderful cook. I never really learned that skill from her; at least not in her cooking techniques. She cooked from scratch. Me? I need a recipe and even then, it’s been a big fail. 🙂
My father, as I said, was a coal miner. He worked long and hard each day to make sure the bills were paid and supplied all the basics and more to keep his happy family smiling. I was a Daddy’s Girl! When most girls were playing with dolls and pretending, I was outside watching my dad as he worked underneath our family car. I was a girl of many questions and he always had an answer.
While my dad was lenient and laid back my mom was more structured and on the conservative side. It made a good balance for raising a Christian family, but somewhere along the way…not so balanced, for me.
As I grew older, that old weeping willow was cut down and the sled riding slope no longer seemed like a hill.
As I grew older, the window my mom continued to look out became much smaller and much harder for me to see her way of thinking. I no longer wanted to do things the way they had always been done. I no longer wanted to be the image in which she portrayed me to be. Like most teenagers wanting their independence, I rebelled. I’m not saying I’m proud of it. I’m merely admitting my guilt.
Time passed. I married and became a young wife and mother. I carried those memories with me. The willow tree, the sled riding days, how to fix a car with dad memories and my mother looking out the window. Becoming a parent had changed me. I had my own home, my own windows, my own view or… so I thought…
When I think about some of the most difficult things I’ve ever accomplished, being a parent makes the top of the list.
As a young mother, I found myself looking through the same window as my mother. I was a good mother. My mother was a good mother. But my children were seeing the same view from their window as I saw from my mine. Please don’t misunderstand me. I love my parents very much. They are beautiful in every way. I am their daughter and proud to say that out loud. There was nothing wrong with the view from my mother’s window… But that view was my mothers. I wanted to look further and have a view of my own.
It wasn’t until years later, I learned to see things differently. I had learned that my perspective created my perception. When my perspective changed, so did I.
I truly never knew the love of my parents until I became a parent myself.
Parenting is a lifetime learning experience and it is going to take me a lifetime to learn.
“So, what’s my story all about?” you ask. “What’s my angle?”
I think learning is a life-long journey. Our understanding depends not only on what we view but also, from where we view it. It wasn’t until years later, I learned to see things differently. I had learned that my perspective created my perception. When my perspective changed, so did I.
That’s my story!
I began writing this blog as just a way of releasing all my views from the world around me. The more I wrote, the more I wanted to say. At some point, I knew I needed to share what I had written because that’s what you do on a blog. So, I hit the “publish” button which immediately sent it out to the world of readers. At first, I only had a few followers who were mainly friends and family. As time passed, my words began to connect with people; people I didn’t know. They saw my view. Not only did they see my view, but I saw theirs.
That’s my angle!
I believe everyone has within them an imagination that needs to be explored through thought, creativity and expression. There is no right or wrong way because we are the author, artist, creator and the one who sets the very standard for the masterpiece. Everyone has a window and each window has a view. What makes me unique from all the others is This is the View From My Window. For this, I am Thankful!
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