Born into an fastly expanding family that placed me to be the eldest of 12 children (within 17 years), 8 boys and 4 girls . We all became lovers of nature and the outdoors because more weekends than not, you could find us on some body of water (lake, river, ocean, creek, stream) huddled under in a tent on a campsite or out in the wild blue yonder. With fishing pole in hand awaiting a nibble, tug, or a bite, we were constantly hopeful to actually land the biggest catch and not be the one riddled with stories of the big one that got away. The creative techniques of this sport played a major part in teaching me to Never Give Up!
Age 4 1/2 years found me one day standing on chair in front of the stove where my daddy gave me my very first cooking lesson of many to follow. I watched my dad scoop lard into a black cast iron skillet. When the oil in the skillet was piping hot, he put a couple of pieces of chicken in and then directed me to totally fill it with chicken pieces. The tall order for this little girl came when daddy ordered me to not back away or get down until all the chicken was cooked. Even at that young age, I had been conditioned to unquestionably obey. An automatic application of faith was instilled, as I had to trust that my daddy to would protect me in the midst of the fierce heat of the fiery hot cooking vessel. That culinary session ingrained in me that tho the adverse circumstances may become seemingly too intense to bare, I am to trust the Heavenly Father in the midst of the intensified heated issues of life and Not Back Down or Away!
Growing up in a family whose lives were controlled by the tight grip of alcohol, impaired correct understandings of love. This functional impairment severely distorted accurate participation in life, subsequently tarnishing realities. It was not conceptual that life as I saw it was through the lens of jaded perceptions. One of the greatest things our dad gave us was a love for family togetherness in camping and fishing in the spectacular outdoors.
More to come…