My Journey Part 1

I have always been a dreamer.

Prone to laying outside when I was a little girl, staring at shapes in the clouds drifting by in the warm Colorado summer sun, the cool grass of the front lawn poking through my clothes, thinking about life and what it would hold for me.

I would stand on our front porch and sing every song I knew, and then every song out of that old Campfire song book until my throat hurt and my voice was a croak. I would ride my bike from dawn until dusk, not wanting to miss one moment of life or one minute of fresh Rocky Mountain air in my lungs. I would play football and build forts with the boys in the neighborhood, but still had a healthy collection of Barbie dolls and "girl" toys. I would eat as much as my little skinny body could handle, make up dances with my sister, pretend to be grown up, play dress up...

I was full of song, of life, of passion, dreams, and a deep, unwavering faith. My parents raised my sister and I in a house where Jesus was the center; for that I am forever grateful! Still, there were things in my childhood-as there are in every household-that caused damage in me even to this day.

As long as I can remember, I always wanted attention. I wanted to be noticed by the boys at a very early age, I wanted affirmation on a job well done, wanted to be first in my class, teacher's pet, amazing athlete, beautiful singer, popular-I guess part of being a first-born. I craved praise for anything I did well and when I received it I made sure I would do even better the next time. It was a like a drug and I went through withdrawals and bouts of gloomy moods when I didn't get it. I can remember my father telling me to act my age more than once-all I wanted to do was to grow up and be on my own.

I came to know the Lord Jesus at a very young age and remember sitting next to my mother in our old Gateway church, light pouring in through the stained glass windows and onto the polished wooden pews, looking up into the rafters and asking the Lord to come into my heart. I had always had a deep connection to God from the moment I was born and an even deeper love for the Lord after that moment because now I had recognized that I was flawed. He was my best friend and Savior that had died for me so I could live with him in eternity.

As I grew, my dependency on praise and affirmation became more dramatic and I would be devestated if I wasn't invited to a certain party or didn't get a call from a boy or got a B on a paper. There was a splintered fragment in my personality, in the deep cavity of my soul that longed to be loved and filled. My mother showed me her love for me in tangible ways-a trip to the library on a lazy, rainy summer afternoon or a trip to the pool with Big Hunks to eat for a treat, millions of kisses and "I love you's", dinners prepared and fingers toiled. My dad showered me with love as well, the only way he knew how- by working. He broke his back at work at graveyard shifts and driving truck so that I could have nice things, go to a Christian school, know what it was like to truly be a child without any cares in the world. I knew he loved me but we didn't have an emotional relationship to speak of. He came from the stock that children should only speak when spoken to and he thought we were without opionions, free thought, etc. I love my sweet father and today we have an amazing relationship-he's taught me so much.

But I lacked the emotional connection that I needed as a little girl, that he was unable to provide by no fault of his own. That would prove to be the "chink" in my armor years later...