Where I Grew Up

 

WEDNESDAY, MAY 18, 2011

Where I Grew Up

House on Highland

I was not blessed as a child to grow up in the same house for all of my years. Recently I drove by the places we called "home" in Phoenix. Floods of memories returned to me; the house I lived in during elementary school looked so small to me now. Across the street was the Solice family. I was in 2nd grade throwing the football back and forth with the Solice children when the football exploded in my arms and immediately broke my eardrum; I remember my mom grabbing me and hugging me tight as I cried from the pain. I endured many, many surgeries on my right ear. Previous to the football explosion, I had a blow to the ear; my birth father was drunk and hit me one night when I was 2 or 3 years old; I am now deaf in that ear. In this house, my step brothers and sisters were taken from school one day by their mother, she drove them to California, and I never saw them again. I remember my sisters and me throwing toilet paper all over the yard and trees the night my mom gave birth to my little brother Lance. One of the scariest things that have ever happened to me happened here; my mother was cooking dinner in the kitchen; I was sitting at the little table. Standing in the middle of our kitchen, I looked up, and behind my mom was a child, not just any child. She never came out during the day. She had what seemed to be transparent pink skin, extremely white Afro hair, even more white than mine, and her eyes were red; she looked right at my mom and asked if I could play with her. I later found out she was an albino of African descent; we became friends, and then one day, she was gone; I wonder now, as I think back about that day, where she is, who she became, where she grew up. Then I realized in this house, there are memories, but this is not where I grew up.

51st avenue house

I drove past our house on 51st avenue several times before I recognized it, then I sat in my car for a long time in front of the house; this was my junior high years, and down the street was the Hulshoff family. In the summer months, I remember playing kick the can and hide and seek with them every night; I had my 1st kiss on this street with a boy named Eric. 

I'll never forget the day Elvis Presley died. My mom cried like a baby; I remember learning how to mow the lawn, pull weeds, and get grounded for lint balls being left behind on the carpet after vacuuming. I don't want to look at this house; this is the house where bad things happened. In this house is where I was forced to choose between sparing my mom's feelings and my stepdad's desires. The tears flow as I look at my old bedroom window. (on the far left) I often wanted to jump out that window, run, and never look back. This house is filled with horrid memories, but this is not where I grew up.

79th avenue house

Driving towards our house off of 79th avenue, I was shaking, not knowing if I could do this and why was I doing this? I turned in and on the left was Sara's house. She lived behind us. Up ahead was Susan's house. Driving toward my house, I was overwhelmed with emotions. This was the house I lived in during my High School and young adult years. I could imagine my white 65 mustang parked out front. I smiled, thinking about the memories my friends and I had in that car.   

On the front lawn is where I took pictures in my cap and gown on graduation night from Alhambra High school in 1981. Little did I know, just a few short years later, my brother Lance would die in this house. He was only 15 years old. I will never forget that cold November morning. I wonder if the people here now know what a special spirit lived in that house. Lance was the best brother; I loved him so much. I met my husband Eric while I lived in this house.

I knelt and prayed at my bedside for hours, begging the Lord to help me survive the evil in this dysfunctional house. I made promises with The Lord. I promised Him if he would help me get out of this house, I would promise to always keep the Gospel in my life and try my hardest to be good. Looking back, I realize the Lord kept his promises and understood the Atonement a little better than I did. I know all things happen for a reason. In this house is where I first learned the Gospel of Jesus Christ is true, that HE loved me, even if I felt no one else did, HE DID. As I stare at this house, I cannot help but remember so many bad memories. There was not a lot of love in this home, there was abuse verbally, physically, mentally, and sexually yet through it all, I knew it was just a small chapter of my life. I somehow knew good things were yet to come for me, and believe it, or not this is not where I grew up. As I drove away, I looked in the rear view mirror, thinking goodbye and good riddance. I will never return here again, but the memories will never fade.

Our Home on Seneca in Chandler

On my way home, I decided to drive by the homes Eric and I have lived in; I wanted to write down the memories I felt in each one of those homes. In Chandler, Arizona, there is a house where Eric and I brought home Kayla and Blake from the hospital after giving birth. In this home, we laughed, cried, and loved in this house. I worked hard at learning how to be a wife and mother. As a young mother, I always felt like I was not doing a good enough job. In this home, I learned to cook, clean, and be responsible not only for myself but now for a family. I remember one night, a cricket was just outside our bedroom window. One night Eric laughed at me, seeing me searching, determined to get "rid" of it. 

I was so busy being a mother in this home that I failed to read my scriptures like I should. I compared myself to other mothers and wives and let the world define "motherhood." I struggled with self-esteem. I attended the Temple once a week with Eric's dad for over a year so that I could learn more. We met Tom and Tamy Scheurn. She became a great friend and sister in the Gospel. Still, as I stare at this home, thinking about the memories, I know this is not where I grew up.

Our Home on Cove in the Islands

One more stop before getting home, the Islands. In this home, we welcomed Kaitlyn and Haleigh to our family. In this home, I continued my quest to do everything "right." I wanted to be the "perfect" wife and mother. While living in this home, I realized I needed to have family prayer and scriptures and be active in the church. Not because I was forced to but because I knew these things would enhance and bless our lives, not because everyone else was doing it. 

In this home, Kayla broke her arm and had surgery, and Blake broke his arm and several other bones by jumping off everything he could climb on. Eric and I met Mike and Jenny Scow, and they have become friends. While living in this home, we celebrated my 30th birthday with Jenny and Mike.   

In this home is where I realized a dad should have respect and compassion for his children. I learned this by watching Eric with our children. I knew I was not living in reality, and it was time to face it. A year later, I confronted the stepdad about my abuse, and he denied it. My mother refused to believe it and ultimately walked away from her children and grandchildren. This home was the darkest time of my life. The guilt I felt for breaking up our family was so overwhelming I went into a deep depression, but still, this was not the home where I grew up.

Where we live now in Gilbert on Poinciana

Leaving the Islands, we moved into the home we are in now. Still, I was broken. My heart ached for my mom, and I wanted that relationship to be mended. I tried so many times, and every time I came away, even more hurt than before; I once sat in a fetal position by the front door crying until Eric got home because I was so upset about my mom. Debbie Slade became a dear friend and helped me through rough times. She called David LeSueur, who at the time was our Stake President; he laid his hands on my head and gave me a blessing I will never forget. He blessed me to be able to find peace in my heart, and he was the first church leader who told me he believed in me. From that day on, I began to heal from my past, finally realizing none of what happened was my fault. Finally, for the 1st time in my life, I felt at peace with my decisions. 

Haleigh was in the nursery, only 18 months old when we moved here. My children were baptized on their birthdays while living in this home. In this home, I raised my voice too much while raising teenagers. I began looking to other women for inspiration, advice, love, and recipes. I hated that I could not just get on the phone and call mom for those things. 

In this home, I watched our children face challenges. I've spent many hours on my knees praying for each of my children to understand the importance of obedience. 

I learned the importance of saying, "I'm sorry, I was wrong." 

We took pictures of each one of our children going to prom. They all graduated from Highland High School while we've lived here. Kayla and Jeremy were married and had their reception in our backyard. 

Eric and I gathered our children and son-in-law together at our kitchen table to break the news that I had been diagnosed with breast cancer. Six weeks later, I  sent my son off to the Dominican Republic so he could full fill his dream of serving the Lord on a two-year mission. 

I underwent a double mastectomy, was told my cancer had spread and endured more surgeries. We had another reception in our backyard for Kaitlyn and Brian, and I started chemo two days later. The next month our 1st grandchild was born, followed by radiation and more surgeries. It was not until I went through my cancer treatments that I finally realized how much Eric loves me. How much love I have to give and, most important, how much my Heavenly Father loves me and has been with me for every step of my life decisions. I know HE lives. I am entirely sure of this; I can now see the times when he carried me and literally pulled me out of overwhelming situations, but still, this is not where I grew up.

During my short 48 years on this earth, I have learned that a house is just a structure built of wood or stone to create four walls and a roof. What truly makes a home is the love, compassion, respect, laughter, joy and enduring the trials a family goes through together. A home is where a child should not be afraid to live; every person in that home deserves to be listened to and hugged. Every family member needs to know they are loved, especially by their mom and dad, and they should hear those words every day. I wish I had been taught this as a child. I wish I had lowered my voice and softened my heart when my teens struggled. Knowing this makes me want to be a better mother, wife, and grandmother. This is the beauty of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the Atonement. No matter what age we figure all this out, it's never too late; he loves us all THAT much.

The Beautiful Mesa Arizona Temple

It is here that I grew up in the Temple of the Lord. This Temple is where I searched my heart and soul and found answers to life's scariest questions. Who am I really? What defines me as a woman? What and who are the most important in my life? Have I done all I can to be the kind of person the Lord will be proud of? What can I do to make life better for someone else? I learned that I am a daughter of God and that He knows me by name and wants nothing but happiness for me. It is up to me to decide how I will obtain that happiness. 

This Temple is where I discovered my true identity; it had nothing to do with the size of our home, how much money my husband makes, the style of clothes I wear, or the car I drive. This is where I learned to listen to the spirit for my answers and guidance and how to forgive. 

The answers came at different times in my life when the Lord knew I was ready to hear the answers when it was my season to learn what I needed to learn. I learned to let the Lord work things out, to put things in his hands, and if I am doing all I can do to be more like him, it will all work out in this life or the next.

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