My Childhood

Another Get the King out of the Garden

I remember most of my childhood quite well—at least the high and low points. When I was very young and well into early adulthood, I struggled terribly with being in front of a group. Any time I had to read in class, my breathing would turn shallow, my heart would race, and a kind of panic would take over. Eventually I began pushing myself into uncomfortable situations just to confront those fears head-on. The old saying “The only thing to fear is fear itself” proved true.

My early life also seemed full of bullies, no matter where I went. Some weren’t too bad, but others were a real challenge—until one day I’d had enough and finally stood up to them. After that, they stopped intimidating me. One boy even apologized years later for how he behaved. I’ve forgiven all of them. People act out of the circumstances they’re living with, and many of them were dealing with hardships at home that I couldn’t have understood at the time.

I also had vivid nightmares as a very young child. At about four years old, I would wake terrified, remembering small balls of light around me and a whooshing sound. One night I got up, walked into the living room, and looked out the window to see a light moving up and down like a bouncing star. My sister was there too, though she doesn’t remember it—I remember it as if it were yesterday.

I started school in a one-room schoolhouse in 1957. All eight grades were taught in the same room, heated by a wood stove, with a hand water pump and two outhouses. I loved it. You could listen in on the older kids’ lessons and get a jump on next year’s material. Sometimes the older students helped the younger ones while the teacher worked with another group. I often think we lost something valuable when that style of teaching faded away.

Life back then was simple. We often walked the couple of miles to and from school through the neighbor’s pasture, or Dad would take us when he delivered milk cans to the cheese factory.

Around that time, my mother became sick with cancer, though we children didn’t know it until she became bedridden. Parents didn’t discuss such things with kids back then. I still remember the funeral, and how devastated I was—I had to be taken out to the car during the interment because I couldn’t stop crying. It took many years to heal from that loss. I believe this is where my interest in spiritual topics and life after death truly began.

My parents had already endured tremendous heartbreak. They lost three children but three of us survived. My older brother died of polio the year after I was born. Two sisters died shortly after birth. My father never liked celebrating his own birthday because my brother died on that day. Life was hard. Farming brought little money, and what came in was usually eaten up by expenses.

Before she passed, my mother made Dad promise he would marry her best friend. She had grown up in Canada, raised partly by another family after her mother died and her fisherman father had to send the children to relatives. My mother later came to work as a nurse at the local hospital. Interestingly, when my wife began her own nursing career decades later, she worked alongside a nurse who had worked with my mother.

My father eventually traveled to Canada, and in 1960 he returned home with a new bride—our stepmother. Until then we had housekeepers. Most were fine, though one wasn’t and did not stay long. We didn’t treat our stepmother well for several years, unwilling to accept a “replacement.” But in time we realized she was the best blessing we could have hoped for. Many nights I have asked her forgiveness in spirit for the hardship we put her through, and I know she heard me.

She spoke English, French, and Icelandic. I always wanted to learn Icelandic and she would have gladly taught me, but—as the title of this blog suggests—I needed to “get the king (me) out of the garden.” I spent too much time playing or distracting myself instead of paying attention to the things that mattered.

Our childhood was filled with adventures on the farm. Us kids were really free to explore and do many things parents would not allow their kids to do today. We had horses, dogs and many cats. My brother and I built what we hoped would be a helicopter. I was probably 13 and my brother 11. We welded this contraption together made a propeller out of a 4x4 and cut it with a chain saw. We mounted it and ran it with an electric motor. When we plugged it in it span very fast but we had not balanced it so it shook to where we had to unplug it before it flew apart. Well that project ended. We had many more experiences, to many to add here.

I see children today and feel sorry that times have changed to where parents are over protective and kids do not get to spread their wings and sour with new adventures. The video games seem to have taken over.

I would often question why everyone is so different. Some have life easy while others struggle. There are answers if one but searches and has an open mind. We will be getting into this a bit later. But for now try spreading your wings and fear less about tomorrow as tomorrow never comes as its always today and today is when change takes place!