Still getting beautiful songs, bible verses, cards and jokes. Thank you!
Here's a smiley!
"A man mentioned that his wife liked to read. She would read for 3 hours a day. One of her favourite books was Facebook. "
Back to my story....
*******
As I was studying for my final exams, I found myself, not only reviewing my courses, but also my life learnings….
One was that I was very different than my father.
When I told my father I wanted to go camping and that I wanted to go to Red Berry Bible Camp - I was not allowed. My father didn’t think it was important.
My father’s solution was to suggest, “If you want to camp go sleep outside under the yard light! Let’s see how you feel about camping after that….”
So together with my younger siblings, we dragged our blankets and mattresses outside. First of all, the dog and cats would not leave us alone – curious! And the flies swarmed under the light – buzzing us all night. Then in the morning we got all wet with dew! We stumbled into our own beds early in the morning.
It was miserable! And we said as much. My father thought he had won his argument but I had learned something different. I had learned that the farm was limited… it could not duplicate the adventure of camping.
I was also learning that my father and I were polar opposites. During high school my relationship with my father deteriorated.
In hindsight, it makes perfect sense. I was a creative personality, full of ideas and imagination. He was well suited to farming, found great satisfaction in straight lines, routine chores and predictability.
I remember wanting to discuss and plan the day with him, but he did not want to discuss much of anything. All my attempts were discouraged, I felt pushed aside.
During those years there was little display of affection and definitely no encouragement for fear it would build pride in a child and they might develop a “swelled head.”
There was little communication, never any questions about how I was feeling, what I was thinking or hoping to do. He was a man unto himself.
I shouldn’t have expected anything more, he had grown up like this with his own father and had no opportunity to learn anything else.
Not understanding any of this, I just interpreted it all as a rejection of me – his son.
During one awkward moment, my father did ask me if I would consider taking over the farm but I did not give that more than a moment’s thought. I could not remain on the farm or in a farming community – and I told him as much.
Studying for my final exams, I also realized I wasn’t the same little boy that I had been in elementary school. I was now a young adult.
In elementary, I had been completely destroyed through the rejection of my art, my application for baptism and the constant bullying I had experienced.
But in high school, I discovered that I did have stage presence, that through my photography course there was room for acceptable creative expression and most of all, I could make friends. I now belonged to a quartet.
I was fit and athletic and I didn’t need to ride a horse anymore. We had modernized… we had different modes of transportation – busses.
I realized I could have future outside of the farm.
I also had a goal. I wanted to be like my Uncle Otto who had plenty of stage presence, and my mother approved of him… even my father approved of him reluctantly....they admired him.
I had friends who were showing me a safe way – there was a Bible school not that far away and they would be waiting for me there.
I had enough biblical stories to know that God appreciated vulnerability and promised to catch us when we stepped out of our comfort zone, like the story of Peter stepping onto the water. He stepped out of the boat.
There had been enough examples already of “divine intervention – God could help me.” Not to depend on it – but work towards creating situations where God would have the opportunity to intervene.
And there was also the accumulative experience that even though the preachers didn’t like me, my teachers always did. I might not fit into the Borden farm community, but the outside community seemed to appreciate me – even embrace me.
My only re-course was to leave! But how to do that?
It wasn’t easy to leave the farm… we were isolated.
I had seen this first hand. My parents had taken on welfare kids who would live with us for a few months. They often tried running away, but failed every time because they had to walk… and just getting off the yard was a feat. We had a quarter mile driveway!
My parents were confident in this. They would let the children run away regularly knowing that they would return. Once past the Caragana lined driveway, they faced the vast prairie and another 14 miles, they’d inevitably give up and come back to the yard.
All of this was churning in the back of my mind, I was not going to set myself up for defeat.
So, on the morning of my last exam, I secretly packed a suitcase. Actually, my mother came into my room while I was doing this, and without a word helped me – even adding a few things that I had forgotten. We never talked about this – and it still remains a mystery to me.
Then I took the bus to Borden High School for the last time. I brought my little suitcase into my classroom and set it beside my desk. Wrote the exam, handed it in, picked up my suitcase and left for the bus stop at the gas station right in Borden on the Yellow-head highway and bought a ticket for Saskatoon about 50 miles!
Sitting in the bus, I realize I had another problem. Where would I go once I arrived in Saskatoon?
I didn’t know the city. I did have a grandmother in the city whom we had visited once in awhile, but I didn’t even have her address.
And the city was big……
Here's a smiley!
"A man mentioned that his wife liked to read. She would read for 3 hours a day. One of her favourite books was Facebook. "
Back to my story....
*******
As I was studying for my final exams, I found myself, not only reviewing my courses, but also my life learnings….
One was that I was very different than my father.
When I told my father I wanted to go camping and that I wanted to go to Red Berry Bible Camp - I was not allowed. My father didn’t think it was important.
My father’s solution was to suggest, “If you want to camp go sleep outside under the yard light! Let’s see how you feel about camping after that….”
So together with my younger siblings, we dragged our blankets and mattresses outside. First of all, the dog and cats would not leave us alone – curious! And the flies swarmed under the light – buzzing us all night. Then in the morning we got all wet with dew! We stumbled into our own beds early in the morning.
It was miserable! And we said as much. My father thought he had won his argument but I had learned something different. I had learned that the farm was limited… it could not duplicate the adventure of camping.
I was also learning that my father and I were polar opposites. During high school my relationship with my father deteriorated.
In hindsight, it makes perfect sense. I was a creative personality, full of ideas and imagination. He was well suited to farming, found great satisfaction in straight lines, routine chores and predictability.
I remember wanting to discuss and plan the day with him, but he did not want to discuss much of anything. All my attempts were discouraged, I felt pushed aside.
During those years there was little display of affection and definitely no encouragement for fear it would build pride in a child and they might develop a “swelled head.”
There was little communication, never any questions about how I was feeling, what I was thinking or hoping to do. He was a man unto himself.
I shouldn’t have expected anything more, he had grown up like this with his own father and had no opportunity to learn anything else.
Not understanding any of this, I just interpreted it all as a rejection of me – his son.
During one awkward moment, my father did ask me if I would consider taking over the farm but I did not give that more than a moment’s thought. I could not remain on the farm or in a farming community – and I told him as much.
Studying for my final exams, I also realized I wasn’t the same little boy that I had been in elementary school. I was now a young adult.
In elementary, I had been completely destroyed through the rejection of my art, my application for baptism and the constant bullying I had experienced.
But in high school, I discovered that I did have stage presence, that through my photography course there was room for acceptable creative expression and most of all, I could make friends. I now belonged to a quartet.
I was fit and athletic and I didn’t need to ride a horse anymore. We had modernized… we had different modes of transportation – busses.
I realized I could have future outside of the farm.
I also had a goal. I wanted to be like my Uncle Otto who had plenty of stage presence, and my mother approved of him… even my father approved of him reluctantly....they admired him.
I had friends who were showing me a safe way – there was a Bible school not that far away and they would be waiting for me there.
I had enough biblical stories to know that God appreciated vulnerability and promised to catch us when we stepped out of our comfort zone, like the story of Peter stepping onto the water. He stepped out of the boat.
There had been enough examples already of “divine intervention – God could help me.” Not to depend on it – but work towards creating situations where God would have the opportunity to intervene.
And there was also the accumulative experience that even though the preachers didn’t like me, my teachers always did. I might not fit into the Borden farm community, but the outside community seemed to appreciate me – even embrace me.
My only re-course was to leave! But how to do that?
It wasn’t easy to leave the farm… we were isolated.
I had seen this first hand. My parents had taken on welfare kids who would live with us for a few months. They often tried running away, but failed every time because they had to walk… and just getting off the yard was a feat. We had a quarter mile driveway!
My parents were confident in this. They would let the children run away regularly knowing that they would return. Once past the Caragana lined driveway, they faced the vast prairie and another 14 miles, they’d inevitably give up and come back to the yard.
All of this was churning in the back of my mind, I was not going to set myself up for defeat.
So, on the morning of my last exam, I secretly packed a suitcase. Actually, my mother came into my room while I was doing this, and without a word helped me – even adding a few things that I had forgotten. We never talked about this – and it still remains a mystery to me.
Then I took the bus to Borden High School for the last time. I brought my little suitcase into my classroom and set it beside my desk. Wrote the exam, handed it in, picked up my suitcase and left for the bus stop at the gas station right in Borden on the Yellow-head highway and bought a ticket for Saskatoon about 50 miles!
Sitting in the bus, I realize I had another problem. Where would I go once I arrived in Saskatoon?
I didn’t know the city. I did have a grandmother in the city whom we had visited once in awhile, but I didn’t even have her address.
And the city was big……
“The only thing more unthinkable than leaving was staying; the only thing more impossible than staying was leaving. I didn't want to destroy anything or anybody. I just wanted to slip quietly out the back door, without causing any fuss or consequences, and then not stop running until I reached Greenland.”― Elizabeth Gilbert
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