Chapter 95
Many times when we shared the story of our travels people’s first response would be that they could never set out across America, leaving their homestead, friends, and family, because of their children. They would state that they would expect their children to rebel, or that they would not want to disrupt their children’s social structure. Since we received this response so frequently we asked our children about their remembrances, and none of them felt that the trip had a significant negative impact on their childhood. In fact, of their few reflections, they all felt that they were just being kids, taking the trip as an adventure, having faith in their parents, as their parents had faith in God.
Much of the attitude of children certainly comes from the kind of message that children are hearing from their parents and the emotional way the parents deliver that message. For us there was always daily discussion about prayer and our expectation of god’s direction and deliverance. There is no doubt that children will follow in the steps of their parents. We thought it would be fun to see what memories the children would have as they looked back. Kevin and Courtney, who were about the age of eleven and eight when we began our traveling adventure, wrote their observations-a technically “homeless” child’s view of this trip.
Kevin tells his story… An Extra dash of Honey
A trip to Kansas a test? naw, it was more like a western in the modern times. Doing the best you could with the bare necessities life had to offer. (And no real six shooters). It was an adventure though, we all know that a little boy can take a rubber ball, a box of sand, or a tree with at least one limb to get himself off the ground and poof, he’s in another world. Now you give him (a hyperactive sugar addict) 2 siblings on each side, 2 well disciplining parents (well at least one and the other a good tattler) all in super close quarters (the trailer) for 6 months, and I had the concoction for a childhood I’ll never forget.
My siblings and I have known that mom and dad have been working on this book. Mom asked us to write a paragraph or so of our thoughts about the trip. After much thought, I’ve decided to tell you about the breakfast. Breakfast, you might question, who would remember breakfast. Well I do. I don’t think that there has been an experience or time in my life that has taught me more mentally, physically, or spiritually than those mornings crowded around the kitchen table. The eyes half open, and the mind still dreaming there were something other than oatmeal sitting before me as dad conducted lessons from the Bible. These morning Bible studies were not a result of the trip; we had had them since before I could remember. The study stayed the same only the breakfast items changed to protect us from… …from well starving. Dad utilized the best he could with what he had, I always knew there were heavenly items such a pop tarts, Lucky Charms, and Cap’n Crunch: oh my eyes would be fully open on a morning if there where Cap’n Crunch, but we were lucky to have Corn Flakes, Cheerios, and maybe just an extra dash of honey in the oatmeal.
Mom and Dad had done an excellent job of concealing the struggle they were in. To me we never got the character speech, we lived the character life. Everything we did or received would bring us good, strong, and honest character. Yes, even oatmeal builds character.
Of all the lessons from the Bible the only one I connected with was the verse in isaiah 2:23. It was my favorite Bible verse growing up, “Curds and honey he shall eat, that he may know to refuse evil and choose the good.”1 Remember earlier… I am the hyperactive sugar addict. I rarely turned down sugar. In fact it was so rare I don’t remember one occasion. And this verse was god’s way of saying, Kevin…I love you so very much, so much I would give my only unforgotten verse so that you might have hot chocolate and candy every morning during Bible study”. Don’t get me wrong: We were not getting a pound of sugar every morning, just something sweet to taste during the slow, boring, I don’t think I remember a single lesson, Bible studies. But what Dad did teach us about that verse is that when you’re imparting wisdom to the spirit, give the tongue something sweet and the correlation will be made between the two and the wisdom will implant roots in the soul as something good. Even if the mind doesn’t understand your spirit will and you will recall it when the time for it is needed.
So how does that pertain to the trip? Well remember we didn’t have real six shooters to rob the money train in order to buy the real hot chocolate, or the fancy sugar cereals. All dad had was water, evaporated milk, and a few chocolate morsels, and as we waited at the table there would appear some of the most mouth savoring hot chocolate concoctions one could imagine. Call him the Macgyver of hot chocolate if you will. If you ask me, he could probably do it with a paperclip, torn cloth, and a screwdriver, of course maybe a small prayer, but it would happen. And the cold Kansas mornings would be yet one more memory that I look back on and sigh as I think, man those where the good old days. Mom and dad’s trials were our best bonding moments. I’m sure it was all in god’s grandmaster plan.
I’ve always been a firm believer in ‘perfect lives lead to imperfect appreciations’, wow, that’s a mouth full. Complicatedly it means that if you can’t appreciate moments of imperfectness than you never can truly appreciate the moment in life when it is perfect and by perfect I mean the good stuff. Simply, you can’t truly appreciate a day without zits till you’ve had a few days with them. You can’t appreciate the sun till you’ve had the rain, the wholeness without the pain, being ripped off versed the good deal, and of course, the Cap’n Crunch till you’ve had the oatmeal.
One day I questioned the hypothetical. If god, being all knowing, knows our destinations based upon whether or not we will accept Christ as our savior, why doesn’t He end all the earth stuff and just bring his children home? And Dad said this earth is a training ground, a trial, hardships, and learning experiences. If life here were not hard then we would not truly understand how wonderful the heavenly realm is going to be with perfection in love. On a smaller scale if you’ve lived the plush life since birth, you take for granted what you have. But if you’re the pauper then when you gain the kingdom you will have a greater appreciation for what you have gained. Even though the trial was for my parents, I know now looking back and watching how they conducted themselves in a time of hardship and it was an excellent teaching and encouragement for my trials (too bad it took me so long to realize this or I would’ve been a lot easier on my Mom: she could probably count me as a personal trial for herself.) so exonerate and encourage people when you see them going though hardships, because you never know when or where it will be returned to you. Sow your seeds of love now so your crop will be in when you need it. And if it helps, I’ll tell you to enjoy your trials because they will bring you closer to God and humility and pureness. Gold has to be refined 7 times before it is 99.9% pure.
Courtney tells her story…
I was in third grade when we left on our “adventure.” I vaguely remember sleeping on the floor on pallets for the year leading up to our departure, waiting on the elusive “go-ahead.” I guess at the time I was excited and not quite sure what to expect, but change seemed like fun at that age. I packed what I thought were my most special things in my cubby in the red van, realizing only too late that my choices were hardly sufficient to keep me entertained during the hours of driving that inevitably followed. I didn’t know when we would return (Dad said it would most likely be after I had my driver’s license) but at that age that seemed an eternity away. The ties to friendships and home as I knew it were not as tight as they would have become had I been older. Thinking back, I remember mostly the smaller, more random details of the trip: camping in our trailer and van, being frozen into the camper or being the one to de-thaw the door to let the others out in the mornings, the geese at the campgrounds… random details that seem to fill my mind at least for the beginning stages of our trip. I had no knowledge of the spiritual leadings surrounding this season of our lives, only finding out years later the deeper goings on behind every move and decision my parents made.
Once we arrived in Kansas and started staying put for the most part (even if it meant in peoples homes for short periods of time), we were enrolled into school. I guess that was when it became the hardest for me. We moved frequently enough over those three years that I was in no less than two schools a year. Coming from a well known, large extended family in a relatively small city where everyone knew you, it was hard becoming the new kid, and twice a year at that. I would just manage to make a new friend, and soon thereafter be uprooted again. It was hard at the time but looking back, I see the difference it has had on me in a good light. I gained a flexibility and outgoing personality I might not have had in other circumstances, as well as an understanding for others who are less fortunate in certain social standings. Don’t get me wrong, there were plenty of good times, which I must say did nOT include the oatmeal breakfasts and bitter church members who seemed to always try to get me and my brothers in trouble, or the hideous hand-me-down woolen tweed skirt suits that were given to me to wear, (but I didn’t wear them). I suppose, though, we had normal childhoods during that time. We fought and argued and rode bikes, etc., all the things kids do. I fit in as much as I knew how, regardless of which school I was at or what my status was, and though those years had their share of tears, hurts, frustrations, and disappointments, I doubt there were many more than any other normal child goes through growing up in this world. Living in two bedroom apartments with seven people was probably one of the more difficult things I survived. The lack of privacy and personal time or space led to some pretty stressful times, even at such a young age.
Most of what I remember now seems to be the funny circumstances and memories from those years. For example, what was I to do with my lone surviving goldfish when we moved from Lawrence to Branson? easy cut him in half and feed him to Dad’s larger two Oscars. Perfectly normal decision then, hilarious now! Or perhaps the time I got a stomach bug and threw up all the way down the hallway at our church on a sunday night, serving only to make the cleaning lady dislike our family all the more! We even watered the grass regularly to make the huge earthworms surface, so we could sell them to the pet store!
I feel like this trip, even at such an early age, prepared me for the walk the Lord would call me to later in life. It gave me an expectancy and a hope for more in life, and removed any ability I might have had to fit into the status quo. I came out of it with a hunger for something more than the 9-5 work week followed by a hopeful retirement. I’ve been called a free spirit by more than one employer. If they only knew! I have gone from being a child trusting in the unknown guidance, care, and direction of my parents (even if it meant oatmeal for breakfast) to being a child of god walking in the same unknown and learning to trust Him everyday (even the oatmeal days) as I did my parents during that season of my life. I wish I could say that my story ended when we moved home when I was in the sixth grade, but