First, let me give you the
preliminary information. My parents are
Jim and Charlea Cormode. Mom was born
Charlea Ann Higley. They were both born
at the Atchison Hospital, Atchison, Kansas during World War II, two years
apart. Neither of my grandfathers
served in the war, although most of my great-uncles did; my grandparents were
all farmers; in addition my grandfather Cormode had had polio when he was
14. As a result he cannot use his left
arm.
Both my parents came from pioneering
stock which I'm sure affected my upbringing.
The Higleys were in Kansas before the Civil War; John Brown is even
related (he married a cousin), another cousin wrote "Home on the
Range" (Brewster Higley - we sing that song at all our family
reunions!). The Cormodes immigrated
from the Isle of Man (located in the Irish Sea; Manxmen being therefore, half
Celtic, half Viking) soon after the Civil War.
I grew up hearing about my ancestors as well as more immediate stories
of life on Kansas farms.
Mom and Dad grew up hearing about
each other's family but didn't meet until high school. There are two high schools in Atchison
County; they both went to Atchison County Community High School in Effingham,
where my Grandma Cormode, all three of her sisters, and my dad's brother
went. I carried on the tradition years
later by doing my freshman year there.
They dated during Dad's senior year and then he left for the University
of Kansas. Ironically enough, my
Grandpa Higley decided to move his family off the farm and into Lawrence,
Kansas the same year. So my parents
continued to date while Mom finished high school and started to University.
In 1966 James Roy Cormode took
Charlea Ann Higley to be his lawfully wedded wife, and she did likewise (they
usually do). That fall they decided to
come to Ozark Bible College. In '69-'70
they decided to take an internship in Belgium.
Dad wanted to explore the possibility of Christian radio in Europe. Before coming to Ozark he had been in a
Broadcast Engineering program at KU. At
that time he already had a burden in his heart for Europe. Previously, he had been in an Honor Physics
program. In the early '60 the pursuit
of physics required a knowledge of German.
Dad struggled in that area. So
he took advantage of his 4-H background and spent a year on International Farm
Youth Exchange program in Germany. Mom
recalls that he wrote home about how empty the churches in Germany were. Therefore, in the fall of 1969 they headed
for northwest Belgium, a Dutch speaking region with some German influence. That next summer, at St. Jans Hospital in
Genk, Limburg, Belgium, I was born. I
took my first trans-atlantic flight at the ripe old age of 6 weeks, so my parents
could be back in time for the fall semester at Ozark. I spent most of my first three years in the almost constant
company of missionaries, preachers, theologians, Bible college students and
interns. Mom jokes that she was born on
a church pew. I may as well have been!
Erik Erikson's Eight Stages of Man:
I don't remember my first year,
although I can tell you a lot about what went on that year; I've heard about it enough. I spent most of the year here in Joplin. Dad was a student and also teaching speech
and very involved with KOBC. Mom
worked, took care of me and attended some classes. She even took me to one of Brother Hunter's classes one time when
she couldn't find a babysitter! At that
point I was an only child, and an only grandchild (not to mention my
grandmother's first girl). I suspect I
was dotted upon. I don't have any
reason to suspect I would have learned mistrust that year, although I'm told
Mom didn't know how to feed me properly for the first two or three week (I was
her first), but somehow I doubt that could leave a lasting impression on me.
Some of my first memories are from
this year. I remember the two paintings
over the stairs in the chapel (although the crucifixion is a little more set in
my mind that the garden scene); I remember the huge windows in the cafeteria
(viewed from the inside); I remember red plastic glasses with crushed ice in
them, although I don't know where to place them; I remember the walls that hold
upon the earth along E Street (because the houses are higher than street
level); I remember the word "racountare", Italian for "to
tell", probably from one of the songs sung by the group of interns that we
took to Europe in '72, and Dad took again in '73 (Mom and I stayed behind that
year because Mom was expecting Joel).
Dad probably sung it to me after that time as well because I liked
it. I remember Mom and Grandma making
me a play house out of a large box and painting it green. This is my most vivid early memory, I even
remember the grey patio stones. This
must have taken place close to my third birthday.
There is a girl in my home church
who is two years old. Mom says that she
doesn't look like me, but she acts a lot like me. Kathleen is very sure of herself. She knows what she wants, she likes attention, and she is very
happy child. She is quite taken by
older kids and cats. If I was like that
I'm sure I don't mind. Mom says I
always wanted to do things my way and I always wanted to be in on what was
going on. Mom says there was a time
when Dad was preaching at a place with long curtains that I started walking up
and down the outside aisle, hiding behind the curtains, not really watching
anyone else, just enjoying myself (although it was distracting for Dad). I'm not sure whether to place that before or
after my second birthday. That sounds
pretty autonomous to me. Apparently
everybody including Grandma and Grandpa Cormode's dog realized my need to do
what I was capable of. Their dog was a
big collie named Duke. I'm told I used
to grab Duke by the fur and pull myself up, I would then attempt to place
myself on Duke's back. Duke never
snapped at me. He allowed me to tear at
his fur until he was tired and then he simply walked off. Duke was a good dog.
When I was 2 years and 2 months old,
Joel Rossel, my brother was born. Now I
had a sibling. Great fun and
competition. Mom tells me once she had
just put gotten Joel to sleep (he was a rather fussy child; he had a heart
murmur and a bronchial infection as a baby).
I, however, wanted to play. She
came into the room to find me in his crib, saying, "Wake up, baby! Wake up!" Grandma remembers on several occasions when she was rocking or
holding Joel, I would insistently climb up in her lap; not pushing Joel away,
just making sure I had my fair share of lap.
Luckily for me, I had parents who
treated me more as a small person than a baby.
They let me think for myself and do things, for the most part. Sometimes I was a bit too independent. I once caused my parents a lot of worry
because I just left. They couldn't find
me. I was two and I had been playing in
the yard. At a moment when Mom wasn't looking I wandered down the street. I came to another yard which contained a
swing and a little boy. Pretty soon
this boy's mother came back outside and found me playing on the swing set,
too. I was promptly returned home
because I knew my Daddy's name and she looked it up in the phone book and
called Mom.
Just after my third birthday we left
Joplin and moved to Algonac, Michigan.
My only real memories of the trip are playing among the stuff on the
porch the day we loaded up the truck; and sitting in the cab of truck with Dad
and Grandpa when we were turning a corner and looking back to see Mom and Joel
in his car seat in the car behind us.
However, I'm told I hated the move.
I told Mom once we got to the parsonage in Algonac that I wanted to go
sleep in my own room, meaning in Joplin.
She explained that I had a room there, and I said I wanted the one in my
other house. She explained that there
was no furniture there, to which I am said to have replied, "I don't
care! I'll sit on the floor!" I had a tremendous amount of initiative, but
also a willful streak that was going to get me in trouble soon enough. By the end of this time period, I had two
brothers to compete with. Daniel Roy
was born in October, 1974; almost exactly two years after Joel. Daniel and I would come to share many
personality traits. At the time he was
one more baby to take my baby things.
My parents have a home movie of me curling my then too big frame into
the bassinet.
Since I was fortunate enough to have
a summer birthday, I was always the perfect age for school. So in the fall of 1975, when I was five
years old I started Kindergarten. I was
definitely industrious. When my parents
and I went for our pre-kindergarten interview, I was asked to draw a member of
my family. I drew my Dad. I drew details that impressed my teacher
like his glasses, belt buckle, the buttons on his shirt, shoe laces and birds
in the sky. I loved to draw and paint
almost as much as any other creative endeavour.
One negative note that stands out
very clearly in my mind, however, is my mother's response to my fascination
with dance. When I realized there was
more available than copying the klopplen dancers I saw at Holland,
Michigan, the cast of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers that I saw at
Starlight Theater, and the people I saw on T.V., I asked if I could take ballet
lessons. I was informed that
"Dance is not something that is important in our lives." I was crushed. I resented that ultimatum and probably to my detriment often
played those words over in my mind.
Similarly, I was not allowed to take gymnastics or skating lessons,
except what I got in gym class at school.
I realize now that those things are expensive, but I was very hurt for a
long time, especially when I had to take swimming every summer.
Three important events that took
place in this time frame. My sister,
Rachel Ann, was born. That meant I had
to start sharing a room. Then, when she
was two (on her birthday, in fact) we moved to Canada. Dad accepted the position as minister of the
Westway Christian Church, although they asked him to leave a year later, so we
had to move again. Third, I was moved
into the Advancement Program in the Etobicoke schools. That meant that starting in grade three I
was bused across town to be in class of bright kids. Those six years that I spent in the program left a lasting
impression on me.
At Sunnylea, my industry was
encouraged even more. They gave all
kinds of interesting projects to work on with each unit and all the subjects
were tied together; when we studied the Arctic in social studies, we read Julie
of the Wolves in literature, learned about the tundra in science, had
arctic related words in spelling, made mobiles of arctic animals in art and
built an "igloo" in our reading corner.
My pre-teen, middle school years
found me at Islington
(Is-ling-ton, not I (s) ling-ton) Middle School, still in the
advancement program. I tend to think of
those three years, 11 - 13 as one unit, although I suppose I entered as a child
and left as an adolescent. What started
in grades 4 and 5 as just a gang of us that always played together at recess
and lunch had become a full-blown clique by grade 8. Part of the reason I see these years as a unit is because of an
elaborate game that we played. It was
strongest in grades 5 - 7. It was more
than playing "house" but not a role playing game in the sense of
"Dungeons and Dragons" and such.
I play it here under Identity vs. Role Confusion because of the assumed
roles that we took on, I believe, helped us in the real identity shaping that
was going on parallel to the game.
We called this elaborate
make-believe "Planets". It
really began in grade four, when Carolyn (my best friend) brought her
sandwiches to school wrapped in blue plastic wrap. She folded the sandwich wrap into a little square and drew dots
on it. She told us that this was her
communicator. That she was really a spy
sent to Earth by Capitan Shmoe of Shmoo.
Very quickly, the far baseball diamond on the playground was dubbed Mars. Carolyn was the Matriarch of the Royal
Family of Mars. Robyn was her daughter,
I was her granddaughter. Other
classmates were adopted into the family or else designated as ambassadors of
other planets (except for Jennie, who wanted to be a "space gypsy"). We spent all of our time out at
"Mars" except when a hopscotch tournament was deemed absolutely
necessary for survival (a possibility in grade five).
When we left Sunnylea for Islington,
we left Mars for Saturnia, our new name for the baseball diamond in the far
corner of Islington's playground. By
this time we where very well read and sythesised elements of The Chronicles
of Narnia (Saturnia proved less than ideal so we immigrated to different
corner of the playground and called it Narnia), Anne McCaffery's Dragon books,
and Below the Root and And All Between into our game. Boys were introduced in the form of Karks
(Graham, Matthew, David and Steven), our sworn enemies (in the game, our good
friends in real life). We developed elaborate
naming patterns, a body of literature, a style of dance and imaginary politics.
Sometimes I am surprised as the
immensity of the game. I've met few
people who understand or had similar experiences. By grade 8 we gradually lost interest in the game per se, but some
of what had come to be traditions for us lingered on as we hung out in the same
spot that year and contemplated our futures.
Our favorite activities that year were "regressing at an incredible
rate" (our term for it then). We
invented a game called "Guard", the sole purpose of which was to
provide an excuse for us to chase each other all around the playground. The fact was, we were going to be split
up. Robyn's parents were making noises
about moving to Vancouver. Freya's
family was definitely moving to California.
Carolyn and Melissa would not be staying in the Advancement Program, so
they would be attending different High Schools. Rachel (Markowitz, not my sister) would be going to the Etobicoke
School of the Arts. I would be leaving
within a year to go with my family to Italy.
What would we do without each other?
However, we really had no choice so
grade eight graduation, 1984 meant goodbye.
That summer I spent, as usual, in camp, and I mulled over something that had stayed with me after school
was out. Carolyn was Baptist. For several years I had gone to Tuesday
night Girl's Club with her (only years later would I realized that it was not a
Baptist church we were at, but a Brethren church; Carolyn had been invited by
someone else). We often had religious
discussions; it was part of the roles we were assuming for ourselves. However, Carolyn had been baptized and I had
not. I was now thirteen and it began to
weigh heavily on my mind whether I could play the part of Christian and not
take that step. I also began to think
about dying. So, the day before my
birthday I was baptized at Wolverine Christian Service Camp in Michigan.
The next day I spent my first
birthday without any family members present as I prepared to head downstream on
my first wilderness canoe trip.
I started High School in Effingham,
Kansas while we lived with my grandparents and finished raising support to go
to Italy. It was a traumatic year as I
went through culture shock for the second time, this time coupled with
otherwise normal adolescent confusion and a move from Advancement to
regular school. I afraid I came out of
it terribly insecure and yet conceited at the same time. I couldn't fit into their world (in their
eyes); I decided I was far more cultured than they could ever hope to be.
My family left for Italy on Memorial
Day. That was when we could get a cheap
flight into Amsterdam, but it meant I couldn't go on the band trip to South
Dakota (I played bells). Everyone told
me Europe was far more exciting, but that was hardly the issue. I wasn't fitting in, again. I was unique alright, but I didn't like
it. I clung to my memories of Islington,
and wrote all my Toronto friends voraciously.
We arrived in Europe and I loved
it. Oddly enough, I did not experience
culture shock as badly in Europe as I had in Kansas. I think it is because I thought I knew Kansas when I didn't, but
I knew I didn't know Europe. I loved
the whole three years, three months we were there, except for school. Mom and Dad choose not to put us in Italian
school so we were supposed to be taking correspondence courses. I hated it.
I missed the social aspect of school.
Therefore, when the US dollar fell and Dad got a job over the American
Air Station so we could stay in Italy I began to spend a lot of time over
there. I became very involved in
Girl Scouts. To certain extent it
replaced Islington, giving me a niche and role I felt comfortable with. As soon I could I talked Personnel into
bending the rules and giving me a student job even though I wasn't a military
dependent. I also became involved in
Red Cross. Part of all this was a
reaction to the rejection I felt from the missionary family we had gone to
help. I was accepted fine by the
Italians, but I wasn't Italian enough for the American family that had been in
Italy for 15 years. This also set the
stage for my behavior once I returned to Canada. I was insecure and I didn't have any clear idea about what I was
going to do with my life which I covered by being involved in everything.
My transition into early adulthood
is even less clear than my transition to adolescence. I turned 18 in Italy and finally got my driver's license (a rite
of passage in North America that I had missed out on at 16, since European laws
are different). In August we flew out
of Frankfurt back to the US, just in time for my Aunt Marla's wedding (Aunt
Marla is 16 years younger than Mom and only 10 years older than me). I was still sorting through identity and
role issues, yet at the same time I was trying to deal with intimacy versus
isolation. At times they became mixed
up in one another. This began earlier
while I was still technically a teen. I
sometimes really wished that arranged marriages were still done, then I
wouldn't have to worry about dating and all that mess. In this state of mind I was heading back to
High School at age 18. Reverse culture
shock didn't help my sense of isolation any either.
We got back to Canada and started
school. Since I had done virtually
nothing in Italy scholastically (those energies were all aimed at winning the
Silver Pin in Girl Scouting), my guidance counsellor made me a deal; I would be
placed in a grade 11 home form, taking grade 11 english. If I passed all eight of my classes, they
would put it on my transcript as three years worth. I did. The next year I
fast tracked, taking grades 12 and 13 together. Essentially I did five years of high school in four years over a
six year period.
Life began to revolve around school
as I attempted to make up for my "lost years" of high school
culture. I felt very alone. Some of my old friends told me that they
envied my experience and I'm sure they meant it, but I hated hearing it. I envied theirs. In retrospect it is not surprising that I got a boyfriend very
quickly.
Adrian was in my chemistry class; he
sat right in front of me. The second
week I was there, he brought me a bracelet he had made. At that time, we did not have a house yet and
so Joel and I were living with some friends from church who lived near
Martingrove. Joel and I insisted on
going to Martingrove. That is where we
would have gone had we not gone to Italy.
Joel had had a harder time of it than I, yet even I was longing to
re-establish old ties. Adrian lived a
couple blocks beyond the Stevensons.
We began to walk home together.
We basically dated just each other all winter and the next spring we
decided to "go steady". By
the end of the summer I wasn't so sure anymore, but I kept telling myself love
is learned and you can learn to love anybody, so I stayed with the relationship
even though I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with it. I figured I had to learn to be in a
relationship. I tried to share my
feelings and fears with some friends, but they were always asking, "What
about Adrian?" until I couldn't stand it anymore. I felt increasingly isolated from everybody because of that. Next February, we broke up. It was a lot harder on him than me, although
breaking up is hard for everyone involved.
We had tickets to go to the Semi-Formal two days later. We went and it was torture.
That fall I started school at
Ozark. It was the next natural
step. I think I first decided to come
to Ozark when I was in Kindergarten. It
was where my parents had gone. I
figured in a childish way that everybody did.
Mom and Dad never pushed Ozark, although they did insist, and instill in
us very early on, that one of Bible College was a necessity. So I arrived. Somehow I found myself with another boyfriend within two
months. That became bad. I repeated all that I had been through
mentally with Adrian, but added my stubborn pride which told everybody I
hadn't come to Ozark for a husband.
That was true. Unfortunately,
that is what everybody sees at this school, which added unnecessary
pressure. On top of that, the boy I
ended up with was rather manipulative and knew how to play on my emotions just
right to meet his emotional needs. Thus
I tried to break up with him after two months; we ended up going out for
eleven. It was a miserable time. I had some other problems at that time
including a severe flare up of a phobia of mine. I really think that the two were tied together.
I
have yet to reach the next two stages of Erikson's Stages of Development:
Middle
age Generativity
vs. stagnation
Old
age Integrity
vs. despair
Freud's Psychosexual Stages of Development:
I don't like Freud and I probably
can't remember what went on in those stages anyway, so if no one minds, I'm
going to skip him.
Kohlberg's Stages of Moral Development:
This stage of Kohlberg's
outline is probably what I was in for a long time. This is the childish mentality.
In our house there were some very definite rules. Breach of the rules could result in variety
of punishments, each designed to fit the crime. I got my fair share of them growing up, from not being allowing
to watch a TV movie with the rest of the family, to being grounded, to being
spanked.
I tried hard to obey, but as I have
said, I was a very willful child and sometimes I either thought I knew better
or chose to run the risk. Occasionally
I'm sure I put more effort into cover up than simply following the rules would
have required. I wasn't fully developed
in this area. For a long time during my
teen years I have problem with lying.
Fair play was stressed
early on in school. Even before that
the ideal of "being nice" to my brothers was in place. Growing up in a family of four kids taught
me to barter early on. Sometimes I
could get away with unbalanced deal, but one sibling always had two advocates
he or she could call on. Of course, I
had them, too, and made frequent use of them.
We usually tried to settle things "out of court", because if
Mom was involved the probable result would be either, "If you are going to
fight over it, I'll take it and neither of you gets it", or "You just
sit in that chair until . . . (you can apologize, talk nice, stop fighting,
play fair, etc.)"
Fair exchanges I soon learned were
essential to survival.
This is a stage that I
have probably been stuck in the longest.
Even when higher levels had been firmly established this is the one I
fall back on in cases of grey areas, or where the choice is between options
that meet other criterion. I realize
that I don't have a lot of faith in myself and so I spend my time trying to
please others. What is right is often
what others think is right.
This is another that I
learned early on. My first impression
is that it was my duty as the minister's daughter to be in church every
sunday. At that time I couldn't have
identified the feeling as "duty", but I soon learned to call it
that. From my parents I learned that I
had a responsibility towards God. At
school I learned duty to country. I
started school in Michigan. There we
began each day with the Pledge of Allegiance and singing
"America". I turned six
during the Bicentennial year and the scenes of the soldiers of 1776 and
especially the fife and drum players had an emotional effect on me that
translated itself into action as duty.
We had a mock election which made me feel it was a duty to vote.
All this was a good start, but the
idea of duty really hit home once we moved to Canada. There was a slightly British flavour to a lot of things that
spoke without speaking directly of duty.
We did not start the day with an pledge of allegiance, but we recited
the Lord's Prayer and sang "O Canada". Canadian history introduced me to the United Empire Loyalists. Loyalty became part of the concept of
duty. At the same time I was growing older
and my parents were firm on the fact that I had duties to the family in the
form of chores. I did not get a regular
allowance. I was not being paid for
chores, they were simply part of belonging to a family. I also had a duty as a student to do the best
I could. Mom often told me that was my
job.
Finally, when I joined Girl Scouts
and took an oath confirming my duty to "God and my County" was the
concept laid down in concrete verbal terms.
I became acquainted with
this concept very young when someone gave Joel and I a comic book about Brother
Andrew. At that point I merely felt
that "enemies" laws were to be dismissed. I first began to really think through this question in Middle
School. I became acquainted with the
story of The Hiding Place and read The Diary of Anne Frank and I
Am David. I thought about what I
would do in a similar situation, if I were a Christian, like the Ten Booms, or
if I were on the other side, a Jew. The
law made it clear how Jews were to be treated, and yet it went against higher
moral values. I realized law are made
by men, and therefore subject to short comings. After all, that is why the Revolution that so affected me earlier
had been fought, to get away from poor government. I gained a respect for good government, although it was some time
before I came to fully appreciate what a sacred trust we put in law makers and
leaders.
6 Following universal ethical principles, such as justice, reciprocity, equality, and respect for human life
Being raised in a
Christian home this level of moral reasoning lay behind everything my parents
sought to instill in me. However, I
can't say when I really came to be guided by this. I'm still working on it.
At first I followed ethical principles in order to avoid punishment,
then I saw them as a duty, part of being a good girl, a good citizen, and a
good Christian. Gradually I have been
learning to act by them simply because they are better. They are a reflection of God. I can't say I am completely satisfied with
such ideals in and of themselves. I try
to be just and respectful in order to please God, although I know that that is
not enough to redeem me. Still I have a
desire to be the best I can be, because nothing else with worth the effort.
Piaget's Stages
of Cognitive Development:
Sensorimotor
Birth - 2 years
I would assume that I
passed through this stage O.K. I seem
to have no trouble recognizing objects, or walking or anything else today. My parents tell me I was a smart baby. They may be biased. Grandma tells of one time when we were at
her house and the adults were eating ice cream. Dad was holding me on his lap as he ate. He was engaged in conversation, and
consequently not paying very much attention to me. However, every time he raised his spoon I opened my mouth. My schema for spoons evidently included
every spoon in front of my face entering my mouth. Oddly enough, I didn't make any noise about this, I just opened
my mouth, apparently assuming that one of those times the spoon would make its
way my direction.
Preoperational
2-7 years
At this age as part of
development of thinking in symbols, I loved to play pretend and to dress
up. One of my favorite dress up items
was an old shirt of Dad's that Grandma had sewn a red cross on. On my small frame it worked wonderfully as a
doctor's lab coat. Grandma also made me
other costumes, my favorites being a ballerina dress (it was blue with silver
ric-rac) and a bride's dress. We even
have a home movie of me in a mock wedding (it's funny at the end because the
groom, a.k.a. Joel, takes a nose dive into the nearest armchair when I offer to
kiss him). I did accept my first
proposition when I was five. I was a
flower girl in a wedding and the ring bearer (who I called the ring bear
and thought that was a stupid title) asked me if he could marry me when he
turned nineteen (he was four). I said
yes. At another time that same year I
tied one of Mom's aprons over my head, the strings under my hair, informed Mom
that I was a "sister" and knelt down under the dining room table to
pray. I guess I had seen the nuns in The
Sound of Music and was imitating them.
I learned to recognize a great many
corporate symbols before I could read and was able to trick gullible college
students into thinking I really could read "Toys R Us",
"McDonalds", "Standard Oil" and many other signs. I was able to read and write my own name
before I started kindergarten. They
taught us to read that year and I loved it so much I asked if I could take the
"Matt the Rat" books that I had not finished home over the summer
before first grade (We were still in Michigan at that point, hence I say
"first grade" and not "grade one"). I began writing stories as soon as I could
write. Dad a stapler that he could make
booklets with and I used to staple several sheets of paper together into a
booklet and then write stories or transcribe Joel's. We still have one, "The Boy with a X for a ei" (I've
been a lousy speller).
However, as is to expected I didn't
always sound logical to adults. When I
was two, I often asked if I could pray for the food. Once when we had guests over I included in my prayed "God
take care of my little sister who went up in the sky". Our guest did not know how to respond,
thinking there had been a death in the family.
I was really praying for Heidi Allsbury who had left in an
airplane. Why I called her "my
little sister" I don't know, since she's older than me, but Mom says I
always did.
Concrete
operational
7-11 years
In kindergarten I met my
first best friend. That's when we
became friends. We became best
friends in second grade. Her name
was DeeDee and from her I really believe I began to see things from another
perspective. She was an Indian, her
grandparents still lived on the Reserve across the St. Clair river from
Algonac, in Canada. I began my Indian
phase. I wished I had thick black hair
like hers and I read all I could about Indians. We even made ourselves blood sisters (the best of our abilities,
by pricking our thumbs). That scares me
now, knowing what I do about AIDS and when it began to spread in the US, but I
think we safe, considering our ages (not old enough to have contracted it
through our mothers) and families (decent middle class).
I also had my first bad conflict
with a school mate. I couldn't
understand how Tina could be my friend at church and ignore me at school. Dad told me I had to be her friend no matter
what and try to see things how she saw them.
Early in school I did well in math
and phonics. I don't know what happened
later, but math and spelling went out the window by grade four. I began my habit of voracious reading during
this stage. Mom took us to the library
every Saturday.
I still like to play pretend but my
games got much more elaborate, my favorites being stranded on an island, being
an Indian princess, or flying a space ship.
I also loved puzzles of any kind, from jigsaws, to playing
hide-and-seek. This was definitely part
of learning concrete operations.
Formal
operational
Over 11 years
I think I entered this
stage when I was younger than eleven, perhaps when I was nine, impart because
my environment encouraged me to. We have
always, as long as I can remember, had important discussions around the dinner
table. My parents encouraged me to
think. At school I can remember doing
science experiments where for the most part we followed instruction but were
given problems to solve. I remember
particularly experiments in solar cooking that we did. I remember Mr. Davernachuck (my teacher in
grades three and four) reading us riddles and Two Minute Mysteries. This I would say was part of dealing with
analogies. At home, we often had
friends over on Sunday nights after church and I would sometimes be allowed to
join in the games of "Clue" (my favorite) and
"Monopoly". I was very much a
daydreamer, even before Middle school and would often reflect on my daydreams,
another part of this stage.
Fowler's Faith
Development:
I can't really remember much of this
stage of my faith development. I know I
always knew about God, although when I was very little I thought of Him as an
invisible person, about the same size as my Dad when I talked to Him, although
He could grow if He wanted to.
I can't say when I entered this
phase, but I do remember loving Bible stories and picturing them in my
mind. I can remember being frustrated
because we didn't know the tunes that the Psalms were written with. I really did take things literally, and not
surprisingly the command to go an make disciples was especially so. I can remember taking my Bible to school in
grade three so I could debate the historicity of the Flood on the school
bus. Everyone knew I was
Christian. We also talked about the
Qu'ran on the bus, although I really didn't know what it was. I just knew that I was right and God would
like that.
Carolyn (the Baptist) kept asking
what religion I was and I told her Christian.
That wasn't what she wanted and she didn't understand about independent
New Testament churches. Neither did I. One day we got the almanac out and looked
over the list of churches. We didn't
know what "Orthodox" meant so we looked up. Near as I could tell it meant "normal", so I told her I
was Orthodox.
I'm not sure when I moved from
Mythical-Literal into this stage, but by Middle school I was in it. I grew up in a very multicultural classroom
and came in contact with other ideologies early on and forced me to clarify
what I knew about Christianity. My
parents emphasized that being Christian affected everything you did and I took
that to heart, often embarrassing Carolyn, who was more conservative, with my
declarations of Christian principles in my school work, especially when were
studying Evolution in grade seven.
Carolyn kept telling me I need to be
baptized by the time I was twelve (because that's what the Baptist church did),
but I wasn't sure. I saw baptism as an
adult decision which I didn't feel ready for yet. I was baptized the day before I turned fourteen. I wore my favorite purple pants and Izod
shirt. Everyone told me I was silly and
I should just wear old clothes (I was baptized in a pond), but my reasoning was
that Baptism was more important than marriage and I was planning on dressing up
for my wedding so I was going to dress up, give my best to God, for my baptism. As rather childish conception I now think.
I think I have moved into this
stage. I've spent quite a lot time
considering the incredible majesty of God and struggling with my relationship
to Him. I'm not sure I can treat Him
like any other friend, like another human, which has ramifications on my
worship and prayer life. I struggle
with seeking to develop a closer relationship to him, and my devotions have a
tendency to slip which ends up making me feel guilty.
Coming in greater contact with Islam
has also made me reconsider what in the church is true faith and what is
tradition.
I'm not sure I can write a
conclusion to all this. There are
things I have not covered that I'm sure have had an affect on me, but I wasn't
sure where to fit them in. The
prognosis for the future will have to include taking a hold of my own life,
because despite my early moves towards independence, if find myself not bound
by doubt. I guess I'm facing the
intimacy vs. isolation stage of Erikson and that is occupying a lot of my
thoughts, I fear losing. However, I am
an optimist, so I know that the future is bright, if I can just decide what it
is.
A Look at my Life through various Psychological Lenses | ||
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