Sunday, March 2, 2014

52 Weeks of Family History

One of our ward members posted a link of 52 questions, 52 weeks:  52 prompts to journal about each week.  Answering one each week means you have a pretty complete personal or family history in a year.  Glancing through the questions, I have written about many of them before, but it still seems like a great idea.  So here I go.

Where were you born?  Tell about where you grew up.  Describe your home, your neighborhood, your town.
I was born in St. Marks Hospital in Salt Lake City.  My parents lived only about a mile from where I live now.  (A couple of years ago, my dad pointed out the house they lived in when I was a newborn.)  But when I was three months old, my parents moved to Arizona.  I grew up in Glendale, Arizona.  I lived about two miles from my paternal grandparents.  I had many aunts, uncles and cousins that lived in Phoenix or its suburbs.

When I was young, my family lived in a mobile home.  My two sisters and I shared a was small enough that the dresser nearly touched the edge of the bunk beds.   While I recognize now that we struggled financially, I didn't feel poor or feel like I went without as a child.  We always had food to eat and my mom and my maternal grandma sewed us lots of clothes.  Christmas was a big deal, and it felt like we got lots of gifts.  And we lived so close to my grandparents that we spent a lot of time at their house.   They had a pool which we swam in daily during the summer.  My grandma watched us while my parents worked.  She read us lots of stories.  My mom also read to us often.  And we took many trips to the public library.

The mobile home park was fun.  There was a park.   And we played in the street, playing hide n go seek and tag and other games.   I went barefoot most of the time...I hated wearing shoes.  I must have had thick calluses on my feet because it burns my feet to walk to the mailbox in the summertime now, but I ran barefoot all summer long back then.  In second grade, I had two best friends that lived right by us in the mobile home park...Brandon and Joshua.   We spent hours and hours running and playing.  I was heartbroken when Brandon moved to Panama at the end of second grade.

My elementary school was three or four miles away, so we were bussed to school.   Or my grandma sometimes drove us.

When I was in 5th grade, we moved into an apartment.  Then when my parents divorced in 8th grade, we lived with my grandparents for a couple of years until my mom remarried.   Then we moved into a house.  Some times I reflect on what a blessing it is to have a home.  Our home isn't fancy but I am thankful to have a home.

I am also so thankful to have had a happy childhood.  It does not matter where you grow up, or how large/small your home is, or whether you drive a fancy car.  The important thing is to have love and peace and the gospel and I had all of those things and so much more.  (Sometimes as an adult, I begin to lose sight of these things.  It is good to be reminded that things are not what matters.  People and relationships are.  I KNOW this but sometimes I begin to forget.)