It is said that when God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window. It is our choice whether to step through these windows or not...I have chosen to step.
It was not too long ago, probably about a year, maybe a year and a half, that I was at a meeting at Church and someone asked me what I was doing there, it was at this point that I realized I was a Window Stepper. It was the only answer I could come up with... I was stepping through a window that God had provided for me. How I got to this particular window, and why I chose to step through it will become more clear as this blog continues, for now, let us just say that at that moment in my life I had become a professional window stepper.
I guess this blog is going to be a sort of journal, and if you choose, you can come on this journey with me. Maybe you will like it, maybe you won't, but the choice to step through this window is entirely your own.
I hope you will join me, I believe I have some things to say...some pretty profound things...and I hope that they will help you in your journey through life and windows.
I don't remember much about my early childhood, I was a baby. I know I was born in Colorado Springs at the Air Force Academy hospital. I know that my father was stationed at NORAD when I was born and that my mother stayed at home and took care of me and my three older brothers (more about them later). From this point on, my life was a whirlwind of travel from one military posting to another through England, Germany and Italy. My father at some point left for Vietnam. I wasn't even talking when he left and when he returned I didn't recognize him. From our reunion on I am told I was a daddy's girl, had him wrapped around my little finger. From my later life, I know this to be true - we were very close.
My earliest memory is from Christmas in Germany. I remember holding a package wrapped in tissue paper and I hear my mother's voice telling me to "be careful - it bites". Inside was a beautiful golden bear with jointed shoulders and hips and head. I couldn't tell you what I named him, I just knew he was and that I loved him. I can also tell you that he is now safely tucked away in my cedar chest - a little weather worn, but still whole and still golden. He is not alone, but he is the one I remember the most. Any other memories are not really memories, but sounds and smells and feelings. Smells are the strongest link to my past. I can smell warm tar and immediately be taken back to Italy, not any concrete images, but the feelings I felt there. In looking back, I think Italy was the last place I felt completely safe, maybe that is why I try so hard to go back.
When I was four, my younger brother was born. I wasn't really thrilled with the idea apparently. I woke him up from his nap one day and was so afraid of getting into trouble I put a pillow over his face to stop his crying - thank goodness Mom was nearby or I wouldn't have the wonderful brother that he is today. After Germany we went to Italy and it is here, I believe, my window stepping began.
According to family members, I was a very friendly child. I would speak to strangers as if I had known them all my life. I was also very trusting of the world around me. In the village where we lived I had friends in the neighborhood. There was the little cat's mother and the cobbler around the corner - I still love the smell of good leather. There was also the man who stood on the corner in the mornings and gave us children fresh green beans to munch on. It must have been wonderful - I don't remember. Somewhere in my fifth year of life, whether beginning or ending I don't know, I fell off of the roof of our apartment and landed two floors below on the roof next door. Needless to say, I was as broken as a puppet without strings. Two broken legs, two broken arms, a shattered wrist and, to top it all off, a double skull fracture.
Our neighborhood friends helped get me down, my oldest brother was the first to reach me and he told our mother "her brains are coming out!" After that an Italian taxi took me to the nearest hospital where I woke up four days later sans memories or capabilities. I was back in diapers and eating eggs out of the shell with a straw. Everything I knew or had known was gone, I was a clean slate ready to be written on.
I'll leave this now and come back with Chapter 2 later. Take care and be well my friends and readers (hopefully both).
Beautiful Bloggable Me
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