A Delightful Child

My parents were blue collar people. They both graduated from high school and my mother began working as a bookkeeper. My father went into business with his father-in-law running a small trucking company. After my grandfather died, dad took over the company. It had ten to fifteen large trucks and delivered U.S. mail at night between towns. Dad ran the company, repaired and maintained the trucks. Mom kept the books at home while raising four children. I was the third child.

When I was a seven-year-old, dad announced that all of his children were going to college and get good jobs or good husbands. After listening to dad talk about college and education, I made an announcement. “When it was time for me to go to college, I would be 18. He ould not make me do things at 18 like going to college if I did not want. I decided as a seven-year-old that college was not for me. Nothing he said could change my mind.”

For eleven years, I continued to say the same thing. Then in eleventh grade while thinking about life after high school, I realized minimum wage jobs were all there was for me. Having worked in fast-food restaurants and as a waitress since age sixteen and needing to do the same for the near future was unappealing. So, I signed up for a college entrance exam and paid the fee.

I woke up early on a Saturday, dressed nicely and walked through the kitchen towards my car. My parents were standing in the kitchen preparing coffee and breakfast.

They saw me and said, “Where are you going so early.”

I replied, “To take the ACT test.”

They stared for a moment then said, “But that is a college entrance exam, It cost money to take.”    

“Yes. I know. I paid the fee. I had to be there by eight.” They just stood motionless, staring at me. Didn’t they know I worked since turning sixteen? Of course, I paid for it.

I do not know what happened after my car drove onto the street. But I expect it involved shouts, high fives, and butt wiggles.

I attended the University of Alabama in Birmingham. Called UAB. Not the football university but the medical complex university in downtown Birmingham. Initially my plan was medical school. But the first biology class which included memorizing every bone and muscle in the body changed my mind. I changed to chemistry. Changed again to computer science with a math minor.  In biology everything was predetermined by millions of doctors before me. Students learned so they could be challenged by those already well school in the human body. In computer science the rules were much looser. I wrote code which included following basic rules.  Allowing me to name things anyway I wanted. If the program was about a Tibia bone in the leg, I could call it a t-bone, a tib-bn, big-leg-bone, of just Theador. Nobody cared what I called it. They only cared about accurate results. Getting there was less structured. It was creative. It was self-determining. It was my own little world used to create something for someone else. No blood. No screaming. No agony. Just creative fun, creating, assembling, and showing a puzzle to someone who wanted the puzzle.

I enjoyed college. I enjoyed learning. Sometimes it was hard. But mostly, I felt free and able to express myself within loosely defined boundaries. The boundaries only existed so teachers could give grades or as feedback on how well I was learning. Electives included philosophy where I read the communist manifesto, Einsteins theory of relativity, and Darwin’s theory of evolution. Writing papers comparing other people’s effects on society was my jam. Tennis, psychology, and art history were electives. Understanding how other people developed and impacted the world was interesting.

As a child, my parents had one bookcase at the end of the hall. It contained a nine volume book of illustrated Bible stories for kids, a twelve volume Childcraft Encyclopedia for kids. I finish those by age seven. There was an A-Z volumes of the World Book Encyclopedia which I read. Parts of it were too confusing. I noticed the pages with pictures of people were easier to read and very interesting. These were biographies. I finished reading these the summer between second and third grade. This was followed by my love of biographies.

Many summer nights at dinner, dad would ask me what letter I learned about that day. I began a fifteen-minute recitation of all the things I learned under the letter H or P or whatever caught my attention that day. My brothers and sister always rolled their eyes and made faces at each other as I proudly explained my new knowledge.  Many years later, as an adult, friends still tend to roll their eyes and make faces as I explain things I discovered.

Probably in the third grade, I discovered a path through the woods to a local library. I convinced the librarian to give me a library card and began checking out books regularly. I was afraid my parents would discover how far I walked to get to the library. So, I hide the books under the mattress in my bed. This began my lifelong love of libraries. Even in Africa, I quickly found four libraries and one used bookstore within an hour of where I lived.

Obviously, I have a lifelong love of reading and learning. After completing a BS and MS in computer science, a BA in English, years of teaching Sunday school to adults, and teaching in Africa, most of my reading is focused on God. At seven-years-old, my stubborn, independent self, could not imagine the joy learning and sharing knowledge would give me.

As a child reading biographies in the World Book, God told me, “I know all the people you are reading about. I know where they are today and what they ate for breakfast this morning.” My seven-year-old self was not so sure about that. After school, I walked to my church to discuss this with the pastor. He assured me it was possible for God to know all the people in the encyclopedia, even the dead ones.  

In 1 John 4 it says, “Dear friends, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, because many false prophets have gone out into the world.” This is one of my mottos. I only trust God completely. Everybody else needs to be double checked. There is always a library or reference book to confirm or refute what people say. I enjoy challenging people on their beliefs, which also leads to much eye rolling in church.

Lately, in America it is difficult to know who is telling the truth. I find it necessary to pray frequently when watching the news or searching the web. There seem to be so many people making up their own version of the truth and disregarding provable facts. Disagreement is normal between people. But clinging to a belief without the ability to determine the real truth is dangerous. As a Christian, I know The Truth, Jesus Christ. But I often do not know the truth of the situation in front of me. I certainly do not know why people do the things that they do. I frequently don’t understand why the Bible says certain things. But God does know. James 1:5 says, “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.” Colossians 1:9 says, “We continually ask God to fill you with the knowledge of his will through all the wisdom and understanding that the Spirit gives,”  

There are times when I study the Bible and reference books to determine what I believe to be God’s opinion of a situation. Then write my opinion on paper. When finished and satisfied with my explanation, I lay the paper down and walk away. Over the next few days, I pray for God to give me a grade on the essay. Gradually, I realize what grade God gave me. I have received A, B, C and once an F. If the grade is not an A, I go back and study some more until I have a better understanding. Or I ask God to put situations or people in my life to help me see more clearly. God is faithful. He will answer sincere prayers.

Sometimes, when watching TV, I pray for God to let me see the show through His eyes. It is interesting how it changes my perception. He rarely gives me details. But some shows which were fun begin to look creepy. People who claim to know the truth began to look like liars. Some people with whom I just don’t agree, seem to be well-intended people speaking from their life experiences which are different from mine.

Praying for God to let me see things through his eyes, adds influence from the Holy Spirit dwelling within me. It seems to give me clarity which I may be lacking. Not everything is black and white. Sometimes there is so much gray it becomes impossible for me to know the truth without God’s help. It leads me to feel more compassion for other people and to be less judgmental over other people’s lives. There is so much happening that I never could know. How can I judge others. Only God knows the complete truth of what is happening. Despite all my attempts to learn and understand, I still need God to help me. I may frequently behave like a know-it-all. But mostly I know how much I need God, no matter how hard I try. I will always need God to set me straight.  

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