Nicholas Summersell

For some reason this morning his name came to mind. I'm not sure why, but it did.

I haven't seen this kid in 17 years. He was a boy in third grade who had a major crush on me. We never hung out outside of school, but for some reason he was infatuated with me for the half of third grade when I was still attending public school and a good part of second grade (which I found out during third grade). He gave me this heart necklace that year. Cute but quite inappropriate if you think about it. Later on (not sure of the timeline), with all the love a third grader can muster, he asked me to marry him right before we went sledding down the hill at gym. Even at 7 there were multiple things I understood that right now surprise me. I remember thinking about how I needed to answer carefully because I didn't want him to feel rejected. Sure I liked to kid, but not apparently the same way he liked me. I understood what rejection was at 7. Craziness. I also remember thinking that there was no way I could marry him because he didn't love Jesus. No I didn't have a personal relationship with God at that point in time, but I did believe in God and  I was a product of someone whose parents went to church. My understanding was that it was bad to marry someone who didn't love God if you believed in Him...under no circumstances. So I took the easy way out at told Nick that he needed to ask me when we got older knowing full well I wasn't going to see him again after Christmas. However, deep down I wanted to say yes.

Unsure how to handle the situation further I did what any kid would, I went to an adult for help. Unfortunately the only one available was my male gym teacher who thought it would be funny to tell the whole class about what went down. *Sigh. That was kind of embarrassing.

Anyway, all of this remembering at how I processed things surprised me. I was only 7 for cryin out loud and yet I knew about, and remember clearly understanding, rejection as well as standards for marriage. Come one now, I knew I didn't want to marry anyone who didn't love God at 7. This seems so weird to me. What kind of 7 yr old thinks about this stuff? Me apparently

The Differences Between Us

Yesterday I was exactly the same age as my mother the day she had me - exactly one week away from turning 23. It amazes me how different our lives are at that same point. My Mom had been married for 10 months to the only man she had loved and dated, and she had just had her first child - ME. I was a complete unexpected development in their life that was even more unexpected due to the fact that I was 2 and 1/2 weeks early. The April 2nd baby turned into a March 15th baby. I do thank God, though, that I wasn't born on April fools...for sure. Haha! Due to me being in stress...probably about being born...my Mom had to be induced into labor and I was born at 11:25 am Tues March 15th.

I am no where near where my Mom was at this age. I'm not married and I don't have a bundle of joy. I always thought I would be at the same place as my Mom at 22 growing up, though. Especially when I was an early teenager, I wanted nothing more than to become someones wife and have loads of babies at a young age, like my Mom. Sitting here now, I realize there is no way I would want to get married and have children right away. Would I like to be married right now? Yeah sure. Do I want children right now? That would be a big fat no. Haha! Although I may know more than the average first Mom due to my experience in the education field and having helped my Mom with four of my five siblings, I know I am no way ready to have a child right now. My Mom didn't want children at 22 either, but she got one.

So far my life has been fairly similar to my Mom's in quite a few ways, but here is where we part in similarities. There are still some similarities that remain between us at this age, like being broke, that I don't want to remain and I know my Mom doesn't want me to have to go through as well. My Mom is an amazing person who has gone through a lot in life. Even though she never wanted children and although I came at a very unopportunistic time, I am very thankful she kept me and that she loves me and my five siblings very much. Love you Mom :-)

Where's the Love?

Two women walk into the room to survey the scene. One is young and petite while the other is older, taller, and a little plump. A table lies upside down on the floor with chairs tipped over and papers scattered. The young woman is the mother but the elder, which is the grandma, clearly has more authority in their household. The girl can't be more than 25 and the grandmother no more than 45. The child who created the mess sits in a chair a little ways off crying as he waits for them to come. The mother stands back and lets her mother take charge. Once the grandmother questions the boy, he looks around nervously as if not knowing what to say. At first the conversation between them is pleasant. No threats are made and all seems pleasant. Maybe this family is different than the other single mothers who live in the city. "Remember how I said I would embarass you in front of your friends if I was called to the school again?", she tells the boy, "Well it's a good thing they're not here cause you have it coming to you." Apparently not so different after all. My heart raced and feared for this child as I watched the situation turn. I could sense that once the child left the school he was most likely going to 'get it and get it good'. I wanted to cry for him and just hug him; let him know that there was someone who really cares about him. But I couldn't. Yes, his actions were inappropriate and deserved discipline of some kind. But the kind I had a feeling he was going to get, was not the good kind. As the grandmother walks down the hall with the child at her side and the mother tagging along behind, threats and harsh words are started to be spoken to him telling him of his fate. And yet the teacher wonders why he has no respect for adults. She can't figure out what could be going on inside his head that would make him burst out in rage and flip a heavy table over. My diagnosis - a lack of unconditional love.