Chapter Three

Turning six, wearing my birthday dress. :)

The Story.
There was just so much to encompass in last weeks post, that I had to leak some of my five year old moments onto this week's post.
During these early years, my parents traveled a lot. It was great for them, they had so many amazing experiences and my Dad still talks about them all of the time. It was a great time for them to really spend good quality time together. As I mentioned in my first post, I went to Hawaii with them when I was still a baby. When I got older, obviously it was not really necessary to take me on their trips, and my brothers and sisters were still pretty young to stay at the house by themselves for several nights in a row. So I (we) had two primary babysitters. Jeanne and Johanna. Jeanne worked with my dad, and she was a good friend of our family. I remember so many fun days with her!

Me, with Jeanne for Easter.

 She definitely liked nice weather and spending time out of doors. If you know me, you know I'm not a huge "nature girl" but with her, I changed my mind. We would take "nature walks" and just collect anything we could find that we found  the least bit interesting. I remember she was always teaching us about stuff we found. She taught me the names of Milk Weed, Queen Anne's Lace (yep, I flipped when I found out there was actually a flower named that...umm a queen and lace?), Wild Mustard Seeds, and many other things. She also told me that if you washed your hair in rain water, that it made it really soft and beautiful. In return, I was her entertainer. I always had a new song or memory verse that I could perform for her.
Johanna was the daughter of our pastor and his wife. She was quite a bit younger than Jeanne and actually not a whole lot older than my older sisters, but she was the oldest in her family, and so she was motherly and responsible, and apparently reassuring enough for my parents. I remember with her playing so many different things with me. She would play Barbies and pretty much anything else that I wanted to play (I was a Barbie girl most of the time though). Sometime during this time, she got engaged. I remember my mom telling me that she was going to get married, and I was so excited. In my book, there was (is) nothing better than a beautiful bride! I told Shea all about it, and she told me proudly "Well I'm going to be a Flower Girl in a wedding." I stood there, shell-shocked, but without skipping a beat I said, "Me too, I'm going to be a Flower Girl in Johanna's wedding." Some way and somehow my mom found out that I had told that lie. She was not happy with me. I remember I had to apologize both to Shea and to Johanna. There was nothing more humiliating! Then, not long after, my mom said, "Emily, come here, there is something Johanna would like to ask you." I ran over, excitement building, and she smiled at me and said, "How would you like to be a flower girl in my wedding?" I nearly fainted! A Flower Girl!  So, in 1994 I served in my first wedding. Since that day I have been in six more weddings! (that's an average of 0.4 weddings a year...) I have attended countless more, and I can tell you that my love for brides has never died! The word "bride" still gives me goosebumps.

Wearing my flower girl dress from Johanna's wedding.

 For my sixth birthday, my parents took me to Steak N Shake. I honestly cannot remember if Abby was there or not, its possible my parents left her with Gretchen and Anna I guess. I remember that I got to wear one of (I had three that year, I remember, and I think they were all blue and white) birthday dresses. I got a Strawberry shake, and the waitress put six cherries on it when she found out that I was turning six. I also got got chicken fingers, because that's what I always got at Steak N Shake. No dipping sauce, just ketchup. That birthday was amazing due to the gift that I received: A BARBIE HOUSE! Complete with working elevator! I remember the excitement that overtook me! Abby still being only three, and in my mind constantly in the way, fought with me over who got to play with the house. I remember I went and asked my dad if I could just have a few minutes to play alone. He took Abby out, and she was so livid! Honestly, I can't wait until she reads this to see if she remembers how incredibly mad she was that I would do that to her. I was sort of a brat, but I always had this weird thing about being alone. Being alone was such a rare occurrence for me, and so I thoroughly enjoyed it. Those moments playing alone with that Barbie House were like utter bliss. The funniest thing was, after maybe a year or so, we rarely played with the house at all. It was too small for our imaginations! We always wanted our houses to be bigger and better than a pre-made structure, so honestly it kind of got chucked in a corner.

For Mom

Where to begin? I think all of the other parts of this post pretty much sum up what kind of suffering my mom went through on my behalf during these years. I was such a drama queen!
 This was probably about the age that my mom started to read to Abby and I. At this point she was probably reading me the American Girl series'. I remember specifically the Addy books. Mom cried a lot while she read those, and with good reason, those books are beautifully written, and quite touching! She also read the Romona books to us during my early elementary years. I remember her voice as she read, it was so soothing, and sometimes she would fall asleep while she was reading and she would say things that didn't make sense. Abby and I would giggle and accidentally wake her up. She would laugh and say, "hey you guys, don't be mean to me" in baby talk, then continue reading till the end of the chapter. A couple times, we would all three of us fall asleep; or she and Abby would fall asleep, and I would lay there pretending to fall asleep, all snug and toasty under the covers, and hope that she would not wake up, and just let us sleep the night in there. Usually Dad came in and found us. "Whatever!" he would exclaim, to see three girls in his bed. Then we knew the time was up. "Off to beddy!" Oh the dread of getting out of that snug bed, and making the perilous journey back to our cold beds! Those were wonderful nights. If ever Abby and I didn't want to go to bed we would say, "Hey mom, can we read a chap?" She never ever turned it down. Unless for some reason, it was so extremely late that she knew she wouldn't be able to stay awake. We read The Borrowers and all of the Laura Ingalls Wilder books, we read American Girl History Mysteries, and many other books at various times while I was growing up. When I was older, there was a time when Mom would tell me to read like while she was getting supper ready or something. I would do it, and at first I felt old and important, but then I realized that I'd just rather her be the reader. Honestly, I'd take that again! Who wants to come over and read to me?



Personal Notes

Around this age I really started to deal with fear in my life. I used to hate for my mom to leave the house, even to go to the grocery store, because I was afraid that she would get into a car accident. I used to think she left me home alone all of the time. Our house is pretty big, so if it took more than ten seconds to find her, I'd think "Oh my gosh she's really gone." I always had a fool-proof test though. I would look and see if the car was here. If the car was here, then she couldn't be gone! One day, I called out for her and she didn't answer, so I began my reckless search. A few minutes later, my heart was really pounding, and I was sure she had left me. I ran to the garage to check and --the car was GONE! I couldn't believe it, it had really really happened! I ran to the phone and did what I had always been taught to do in the case of an emergency; dial 911. "Hello, name and address please" said the operator. "Umm.. I said, I don't know it." I had seen Rescue 911 and I knew that they didn't really need the address, they could find me anyway. I went on, "My mom left me home by myself." I said. She replied, "Well, how can I help you if you don't know your address?" (honestly, they should have a part on the 911 operator application that has to do with being good with children). Now I was starting to panic. What could I do? My last resort couldn't even help me. All of a sudden out of the corner of my eye, I saw my sister Anna go up the stairs. Ok, so maybe I wasn't completely alone. I felt quite a mixture of relief and fear. "Never mind" I said to the operator and hung up the phone. Well, apparently I was right about the whole, "they don't really need your address to find you" thing because she called right back. I nonchalantly ran over to Anna and asked where she had been. "Mom and I were getting plants off of the deck." she said, clueless of what I had just done. "Oh. Where's the car then?" I asked. "We moved it around back so we could put the plants in it." All of a sudden I felt very foolish. Meanwhile, my mom had answered the phone. "Emily!" I heard her call me from the kitchen. Dread poured slowly over my head. I walked in, and instantly saw her face. It was not a happy one. "Emily, do you know who just called me?" her eyes bore into my soul. "That was the 911 dispatcher, she said that you told her that you were here alone. Is that true?" I looked down, feeling sick. "No" I said quietly. She lectured me for a while about how that we have to really be sure that we are in an emergency before we call 911, and that the lady wasn't very happy with either one of us. I remember feeling guilty that I had made my mom look bad. She looked at me very seriously and said, "Emma, I would never ever leave you by yourself." Those words comforted me for days after that. Although I still had the occasional panic attack, to which she would respond, "Emma, what have I told you? I will never leave you by yourself".

Abby and I in our old bedroom. We went to two twin beds not long after this.

My other completely paralyzing fear was storms. It didn't matter if it was a completely sunny day, it would still come up in my mind, "what if it stormed right now?"  More than that, I was afraid of tornadoes, but by the age of six, I was aware that tornadoes were less likely. I remember I would ask this question, "Is it tornado weather?" to which my parents pretty much always replied "No". I remember one night being like sickly afraid, that it would storm. I had laid there in bed, listening to Abby breathing comfortably in her bed. Finally, my fear overtook me and I went with my final resort. I went downstairs and told my mom that I was too scared to sleep. You have to understand that my parents had already had three children, and they weren't so very sympathetic to the "can't sleep" theory. I knew my mom would come into my room, pop me back into bed, pray with me, and go back downstairs.  When she came upstairs though, she asked me a question. "Emily, are you saved? If you're saved, then there's nothing to be afraid of because Jesus is with you." I remember feeling shocked, and so grateful that she had asked me that! I was so confused, and I had been praying (yes, praying at the age of six; the Holy Spirit was definitely at work in me!) that somehow God would show me how to be saved. I remember telling her that I knew I was not, but that I really wanted to be. She told me that all I had to do was tell Jesus that I was sorry for all of the wrong things I had done, believe that he died for me, and to ask him to come into my heart and save me. Now, you can say that you must be extremely careful when leading a child to the Lord, because there are only certain things that they will be able to wrap their mind around, but I tell you right here and right now, that there was nothing magical in the things my mom said to me, but they made so much sense! I knew at that moment that I needed Jesus. I remember being afraid that I wouldn't pray right. I wanted my mom to pray for me. (reference my last post when I said I wanted my mom to do everything for me) I remember her telling me over and over that I had to pray for myself. This was not one of those things she could do for me. It was an extremely emotional night, and I remember crying and begging her to pray for me, but she wouldn't. I remember she said, "maybe you're just not ready, and that's ok." I knew better, I remember thinking, "No, I need to pray right now. I can't wait any longer. I have already been waiting, and now finally I have this opportunity." Eventually, she went and got my dad, and together somehow they were able to coax me into praying for myself. Honestly, I cannot remotely remember the words I prayed that night, but praise the Lord that it has nothing to do with words. I have often wondered if I was really saved that night, being so young, and still so in the dark about spiritual things, but the changes that took place in me afterward testify that I was. I think, as many children do, that I expected there to be a chorus of angels and for my life to take on some heavenly quality after I surrendered to Jesus, but obviously nothing like that happened. Instead, life went on pretty much as normal. What I didn't realize was that the very fact I slept through the night that night was a testimony of God's peace in me. The biggest sign of my conversion was the conviction that came in my life. At six years old, I remember feeling guilty about lying, calling my sister names, and about thinking bad thoughts. Those were things that no one else knew about but me, and yet I knew that they were wrong, and I needed to confess.

The World

There are many different things that were going on in my world at this time. Abby was slowly but surely becoming more of a friend than a baby doll. Our personalities clashed, but somehow out of the rubble of our fights came this incredibly strong bond. I remember when she was still little, she bit me so hard that I bled! She got in trouble, but the sad thing was, that I probably did something horrible to deserve it. My response to discipline? Look cute, say the right thing, kiss butt, and maybe they'll forget about it. Abby's response to discipline? Say what she really thought, and scream. The strange thing is that now I realize how equally in the wrong we both were. I was such a little deceiver, while Abby just laid her feelings out on the table for all to see. Funny, that out of that we have traded places somewhat. I am definitely the one who can open up after five minutes of meeting you. Abby only shows glimpses of herself, even to those she knows and loves. I know you probably think it odd that I write so much about Abby in my blog. I will tell you now, it will only get worse as time goes on. That is because Abby is such a thread of who I am. In so many ways, she is what made me, me.



Halloween. I was "Pharoah's Daughter".



When I was six, another huge thing happened for me. I got my EARS PIERCED! Just like my sisters before me, my mom took me out to ice cream afterward for the pain. Honestly, I was so thrilled to have more jewelry on my body, I could not care less about the pain (not really the same as the feelings I had toward my nose piercing, don't believe anyone who says it does not hurt that much...they're liars). The way my mom told me was that she gave me some pierced earrings, and it was like a clue. I was so excited, it seemed so grown up! I remember my mom had me call my Grandparents. I'm not sure what my Grammy said, but Grandad said, "You got more holes in your ears?" I remember being slightly offended, like I could not believe that there could be anyone in this world who wasn't as thrilled as I was. Needless to say, my love for jewelry pretty much just grew from there.

Hearts I Loved.
At this age; my sisters were my idols. I thought they were beautiful, amazing, and cool, and I wanted to be just like them. They always seemed to be having friends over, and having sleepovers and other fun stuff that I was too young for. I tried my best to copy and follow their every move, but sometimes it didn't work out as well. I blame my sisters for my early start to liking boys. Although they weren't overly boy-crazy, they were just teenage girls. I don't remember there ever being a time when I thought, "ok, now I like boys" I know you think that there is no way I could be talking about this in my First Grade post, but yes, I am. It was entirely innocent, but Shea and I were always scouting out who would be our current crushes. Not that my parents really encouraged this behavior, thus making everything Top Secret.

Easter, 1995, I would have been almost six.

Although we liked boys though, we definitely did not grow up before our time. Shea and I were great imagineers. She made up the best stories to pretend. She understood how to play; if you can possibly understand what that means. It was very rare to find a girl who could turn a pine tree into a tee pee or a log cabin in the middle of the prairie. We used to imagine that the slide was a pirate ship, and we were beautiful girls that were captured on the ship. Everything was dramatic, we were always running for our lives in some way, shape, or form. Another thing we often played was orphan runaways. Usually we would somehow overthrow the evil matron of the orphanage and be free to return to our princes that were waiting for us. Of course, when we arrived, it was time for us to play dress-up! I attribute our talented costume-making skills to these early childhood days. It was awesome!

I am linking up to Mommy's Piggy Tales where I am sharing stories of my life.