Who am I? Part #3: Young Adult

I nearly missed going to nursing school as my parents told me during my senior year in high school that there was no money. But God provided and I received a grant via the high school principal. The stipulations included: 

1.   Must maintain a B+ average.

           2.  Must meet with the principal every semester.

           3.  Must never ask about the source of the money.

I complied. Everything was paid except $100 in my senior year, due after graduation.

For these 3 years, I earned money by babysitting- usually for doctors' children- or by working as an aide at the hospital. Thus, I rarely joined my classmates to go shopping. 

Classmate Suzanne realized why I didn't join in and she began  leaving small amounts of money under my jewelry box. Now I could  buy a soda and join my classmates for popcorn She even took me by train to her home in Detroit for a weekend. Her parents treated me as if I was a VIP guest.

During freshman year I had awful roommates. Both were disliked by everyone. Because I endured without complaining, I was given a private room during my junior and senior years. What a deal!

Nursing school was hard and I studied most of my waking hours. It was worth it as I proudly walked down the aisle for the graduation mass on May 30th. The bishop pinned our school pin on, the chairman of the board handed us our diploma and everyone congratulated us. We all wore the graduation white uniform we had chosen several months prior. Our cap had a black velvet stripe. We were GNs- graduate nurses.

I took my state boards in October and scored well. Now I was a RN! My dream since 2nd grade had come true.

                                                                                                                                                          To Be Continued                                                                                                                    

Who Am I? Part 2: Adult Provokes Child

When I was nine, we moved into a 2-story house with a big front porch surrounded by popcorn bushes. Inside was a huge surprise for me: an old upright piano that had been left behind in a small sitting room. 

We had moved out of the first floor of a rented house right across from the parsonage next to the little white church on the corner. 

The minister's 2 daughters taught me how to read music and play their baby grand piano. They were leaving for college and told my mother I was ready for a piano teacher after the upright piano was tuned.

My mother announced a piano teacher would be coming to meet us. I understood later that her criteria was that he or she would come to our house and was cheap. I never heard the phrase "You get what you pay for." But I saw it happen.

This man never tested me to determine where I needed to start. He just gave me book one and I was  instructed to work on the first two songs. I was able to play the whole book in one sitting. 

Every week he brought a new book and my mother was getting very upset paying for them. Then he brought me.one song and laughed saying, "Bet you can't play this one."

It was written in octaves- meaning my right hand had to stretch across eight keys. As an adult, I can barely do that. As a nine-year-old it was impossible. I could play it using the top or bottom of the melody- just not both at the same time.

The next lesson he arrived grinning. He delighted at beating me; "I knew you couldn't play this one!"

Too bad I didn't know Ephesians 6:4a back then:

Piano Teacher, do not provoke your

child/student to anger,

[my paraphrase]

OR

Colossians 3:21, KJV

Fathers, provoke not your children to anger,

lest they be discouraged.

My teacher laughed and laughed. I yelled louder though and threw him out the front door! Literally! My mother came running and boy, I was in big trouble. I've never regretted it even though that was the end of my piano lessons. I was not going to be discouraged. I was going to learn how to play,  

I learned that I had a line when crossed forced me to act. Although I hated confrontation, I could stand up for myself. It was an important lesson I would need in life. As a child, I could advocate for others better than for myself.

As an adult, I taught myself to play the piano and found that I was very good at sight-reading. [Playing accurately without seeing the music ahead of time.] My friend, Alene, was asked to sing at various women's functions. She often phoned to ask me to accompany her. I always asked why she didn't call me sooner?

 "Honey, You can handle it." 

And I usually did, but a bit of practice would have been better for my anxiety level.

Who Am I? Part #1- Childhood Memories

I'm sitting at my computer wondering who I have become and whether that is what the Lord meant me to be.

As a child I became an advid reader. I loved books! I read every book in my elementary (3) and junior high schools' libraries.(Minus the reference books we could not check out.) Librarians loved me. In 6th grade I sat under the fire escape to read during recess. I knew it was off limits, but it was the only place with shade. One day a couple boys from my class were sneaking around the back of the building when they saw me. "Watcha doin'?" the tall one asked. "Yeah, wny are back here? It's off-limits." the other demanded. "Readin'." With a smerky grin, the tall one reached for my book. but I moved it out of his reach. "You never break the rules...why read a dumb book anyhow." "It's about going undersea. Quite an adventure for an old lady and her cow." They stared in disbelief then looked at each other saying, "Proof it!" I think they planned to tease me, instead they sat down across from me. I turned back to page one and began to read. That was the day I became the reading tutor for a small group of boys. Later I learned my teacher didn't miss me. But when the boys disappeared, she went looking. Imagine her surprise when she saw us. The next day she asked me to stay after school. She explained that the boys needed to run off some of their energy, but she was delighted to see these non-readers intently listening. So we came up with a plan: on Tuesdays and Fridays I would take a book out and head for the fire escape. The other days they would burn up those wiggles that made it so hard to sit still and concentrate. When the Miss Pickeral books were finished, the boys would pick out the next one. (Our teacher or the librarian would help, if needed.) I ended up with 5-6 boys coming and they were hooked. By the end of 6th grade, those boys were checking out their own books to read at home. The librarian helped them get library cards at the neighborhood public library to encourage them to read over the summer. As for me, I already visited the public library year round. I was proud that I helped these guys enter junior high as readers!

Heartstrings

God who hung the stars... has taken a thread of His heart and tied it to yours.