Monday, January 10, 2011

Journaling Seeds - Barefoot on Holy Ground, Book 2, Chapter 1

From Daily Clipart
Part of my homework for Seminary this year is to read through a book called Barefoot on Holy Ground, by Gloria D. Karpinski. I'm on the "second book" within this book, which contains various journaling seeds and exercises to do. I have decided to share at least some of them here in the Temple, as it seems appropriate to be exploring such things here. The seed for today is,

What questions did you have as a child? Were they honored? Answered? Dismissed?

I had many questions when I was a child. Why did my period start so late? Why was I fat? Why was my hair so darn thin? Why did people make fun of me? Why couldn't other people read the same way I could? What kind of job would I have as an adult? Would I have kids? Who was God? What could I do to make my mother be proud of me? Where was the loving parent I was supposed to have, according to all the books?

I had a lot of more normal questions, too, like how to do homework and what long words meant, those normal things. The more normal questions were usually honored, although more often than not I was told to stop asking the questions of my parents and go look the answers up on my own. I was taught that if I had enough information to formulate a good question, then I could go to the library and research it on my own time.

My family wasn't big on family time. We ate in front of the television every night. No conversation happened. No one really cared how my day at school was. The only time homework was questioned was if I was silly enough to not get something done on time, or when I received what my mother perceived as a bad grade (B or less). As I grew up, I realized that it was for the better that there wasn't a lot of togetherness, because I was completely miserable during any time that involved my mother. Even time spent with my grandparents, ostensibly a social time, generally involved watching a football game or movie, with very little conversation except perhaps over my paternal grandmother's insisted-upon sit-down dinners. I learned to dread those sit-down dinners because of my mother's dry tongue and rude behavior.

Questions were something for the library, or the librarian. I asked my questions of teachers, of mentors, of friends' parents. Sometimes, rarely, I'd ask my father. He was much more reasonable, but rarely had time to sit down and talk. Books always had the answers, though, and in a library they were free! I could spend hours sifting through one topic or another, investigating religion or science or history or geography. I still have a strong love of books and the written word.
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