The Switch

The Switch

I walk and reflect on my life and wonder where exactly in my life I got lost. I want to say it was before I was born. My parents were not with Christ so they were not capable of showing me where to go. Yes, they had the ability to provide food, shelter, and love, but it was not the foundation in Christ that I needed to believe in the spiritual world. The problem is, my parents did not know this. They were completely unaware as were the generations of my family before them. It had been generation after generation of un-churched family. With my family...it stops here, with me. I know the truth, Satan is no longer going to control my family and lead us to eternal damnation.

My strange looking church

I'm trying to recall my first memory. Not a memory induced by an old photograph or a story told, but an actual first memory. I recall blips of recollection when I was approximately five or six when my family lived in Florida. I remember going to a children's group at the strange looking church on Anna Maria Island, Florida which we lived. I was shy and nervous to meet the people. I remember playing at the beach. The sand was hot. I could hear the seagulls. Was this all real? I can remember lying in bed with the breeze filtering through the window. I could hear the Gulf of Mexico, it was only 100 yards away down a sand road. No old photo could capture the tranquil beauty of that time. I remember playing in the sand street in front of our house and trying to catch the lizards scampering through the grass. We would pick fresh kumquats from the tree in our front yard.

Seagulls on the Gulf

It was good. I was young, I'm guessing around four years old. I had no cares in the world, peaceful, fun, carefree. I look back and with the lack of ability to understand, God was there.
My memory comes in and out like flashes of light when you turn a light switch on and off. The switch could have been left off for years or days or minutes. I try to remember, where did my self go?
My life was good on the island, I was happy, I do remember that. I do not know the real reason why we left the island. I've been told different stories over the years by my parents. They will argue over the blame. Both say they never wanted to leave but yet we did. Why? I need to stop wondering. I need to let it go. There must have been drama that was unfolding that as a child I would not be able to comprehend. I'm guessing there were lies, infidelity, and control issues going on within the family.
Was whatever it was worth ripping us from what I new as my home, my existence? Why are we filling a big truck with our stuff? What was going on and why? What was happening? Did  my parents explain? Is that a blacked out memory? Did someone flip the switch off? Was Satan in control of the switch? Did he want me to not see so I would carry these question my entire life, to cause confusion in a small child. To gain control he attacked my weakness, my tiny innocent heart, my sense of safety. He took my home.
Why are my parents letting this happen? I was too little to have my own opinion. People do not listen to children. I could do nothing. My life's path has been shifted. Will I ever get back to my earthly home?
Switch off-switch on.
We are in Millbury, Ohio. Staying at my grandmas house. How long were we there, I do not know. Why were we there, I do not know. I remember my birthday receiving a Ballerina Barbie and a Spirograph. I was happy. They must have known what I wanted. I think I turned six.
Switch off-switch on.

Anna Maria Island, Florida

Now we are in a house in Elmore, Ohio. I do not remember moving there. We were just there. There was a giraffe painted on the wall and my parents room was on a stage. There was a closet on either side of their bed in which my sister and I would play and sometime sleep. In some cases I would sit alone and hide, from what, I don't know. The house was an old day care center that is why there were animal paintings on the wall and a stage was present. There was a bathroom on either side of a kitchen. They were really creepy to me, cold and dirty. This may be the birth of my bathroom phobia.
Why were we here? Did my brother and sister have a clue what was going on? Was it explained to them? So many questions! Where are we? What is going on? Where is that funny looking Church? Where is my hot sands, seagulls, and my Gulf breeze through my window? Where is my God? Is this temporary?
I want to go home!

Pamela Renee Schneider