It’s hard to believe, but on June 23rd twenty-one years ago, Jessica Irene came into the world. Whether the world was ready for me or not, I was here. From a young age, I was talkative, determined (stubborn according to my mother), and eager to learn. Not much has changed since. I got a little taller, maybe a little smarter, and I might even talk more now. :) To most people, 21 is defined by legal (and usually excessive) alcohol consumption. Of course, if you know me, you know that I have never been “most people”. Haha. While that milestone might be a plus, today I have mainly been thinking about how 21 really marks the end of your childhood. And as excited as I am to finally be 21, I’m also a little sad that those childhood days are over.
I had one of the most amazing childhoods. I grew up on a farm in one of the most beautiful places in the world. My pets? Buffalo, ostriches, peacocks, quail, elk, horses, pigs, goats, chickens, rabbits, cats, dogs, hamsters, sometimes turtles, snakes, or other creatures I captured from the wild. You name it, we probably had it at some point or another. My parents were patient, loving, and dedicated to the art of parenting. My mom taught me how to cook and clean, my dad taught me how to take care of a farm. They both showed me what it looked like to work hard, give selflessly, and love the Lord. I went through hobbies like no other. There were the sea monkeys, pottery wheel, weaving loom, bead-making kits, ball gloves, fabric for sewing, a volleyball net, paint and canvases, tap dance shoes, a piano, a bug collecting kit, camping supplies….no matter what I was doing, Mom and Dad made sure to encourage my creativity and didn’t get frustrated when I moved onto something else two weeks later.
Family vacations were a must, and every summer we picked some place new to go. My parents recognized the importance of me seeing that there is, in fact, a whole world outside of tiny little county. When I got the chance to go to Australia when I was 11, they may have been more excited than I was. When I raised half of the money I needed to go, they were proud. My parents also recognized the importance of early education. I don’t remember when I learned to read or write, but I was small. I had a desire to learn like no other. I’m sure I drove my parents crazy with endless questions. How things worked, what words meant, and why, why, why? We read the Bible almost every night, had family game nights, and ate dinner together.
I definitely went through some ups and downs with my parents, but there is nothing greater than my mom and dad now sharing the title of both parent and friend. I didn’t always understand my mom’s reasoning, didn’t always care for my dad’s lectures, hated the “no friends-no phone-no computer” punishment, but looking back now, it’s so easy to see how their parenting shaped me. I plan on raising my kids the same way….a long time down the road. :) They may not have always been right, but they were doing the best they could. And sometimes, that’s all we can ask of the people we love. That they just try to do the best they can.
Then there are all the childhood memories I share with my little sisters, most of them captured on our collection of home videos. Every now and then, we’ll drag the box out and replay our favorite episodes. Sometimes I wish I could go back to the days where our biggest fights were about who got to use the computer or talk on the phone, or who got the last of the Trix cereal. Before we learned how easy it was to really hurt each other with our words.
I’ll always remember how when Jenn and I went to Colorado for vacation one summer, we saw a rock climbing place and I wanted to do it so bad, but I was terrified. Even though I was pretty adventurous for 11, I wasn’t big on trying new things. Jenn, even though she was only 8, coaxed me into it, saying, “Don’t worry ,Jessie, it won’t be that bad. I’ll do it with you.” And it was one of the coolest things I’ve ever done.
Of course, Jenn and I were always getting into some sort of trouble. One time, when she was probably only four or five, she took a pair of scissors and cut her hair in my room on my pair of shorts and then told Mom I did it. Of course I denied it. I think we both had to sit in time-out until one of us told the truth. We shared a room (and a twin bed) for several years when we were younger, and we always stayed up late making puppets on the ceiling, telling stories, and reading books together. We were inseparable.
We spent many summer nights outside with Mom and Dad, playing pitch and catch, having campfires, and swinging on the playset. I remember Dad telling us what animals made all the night time sounds. I can still identify most of them today. My favorite was the whipoorwhil. Even though I can’t imitate it as well as my dad can. :)
Then little Stephani came into the picture. I remember wanting a little brother at first, but Steph was too cute not to love. At the ripe old age of 3, she invented the phrase “Sorry doesn’t make help!”. Anytime Mom or Dad or Jenn or I accidentally bumped her, or did anything that required an apology, Stephy would respond “Sorry doesn’t make help.” This always resulted in us cracking up, which made her even more furious. I also remember how I was the proudest big sister ever. Anytime we went anywhere, I would beg Mom to let me hold Steph and introduce her to everyone. I would carry her around until my back was killing me and I could hardly stand, and then I would give her back to Mom. I’ll admit though I handed her off a few times when she was crying. :)
Living on a farm, we were constantly experiencing the births and deaths of the many animals we raised/rescued. Each time some new creature was born, we would fight over naming it. Some of my favorites were Cookie (a fainting goat), Butterscotch (a hamster we nicknamed BS), Pork Chop (another hamster- this one was Steph’s idea), Timber (a cat that I swore “saved” me from a falling branch in the woods when I was six), Ears (a rabbit), Chick (a chicken- Jenn was so original), and Taco (a long-haired Chihuahua). Obviously, as children, my sisters and I were a little obsessed with food names. When these animals died (as they often did), we would always have to have a “burial ceremony” in the backyard and mark all their resting places with wooden crosses. Being the animal lovers we were, when the farm dogs dug the animals up a week later and dragged them all over the yard, it was a rough day for us.
I won’t forget all the camping trips we took, where we would stay up giggling and laughing most of the night until Mom and Dad would threaten to kick us out of the tent. Only the mention of fierce outdoor creatures could settle us down. We learned how to set up a tent (sort of), make perfect s’mores, and properly bait a fishing hook. When we would go to all these places, my sisters and I would strike up conversations with almost anyone, adopting people from all over to be our ‘aunts’ and ‘uncles’ and ‘grandmas’ and ‘grandpas’. We still keep in touch with many of these honorary family members.
And one of my most recent memories, a few years ago when we went out West with our dad for vacation. I fell in love with Montana. All of it. Jenn, Steph and I documented the trip on video, and it was quite memorable. We had to leave Yellowstone early because of a snowstorm, couldn’t go all the way through Glacier National Park because of an avalanche, didn’t get to see Mt. Rushmore because of the fog, couldn’t go through the Badlands because of the massive amounts of mud, and we broke down only 5 hours from home. Still, we had more fun than I think we’ve ever had. I felt like we were always laughing at one thing or another.
Of course, not every day as a child was perfect. One of my most vivid memories took place in the doctor’s office when I was 8 years old. After months, days, and weeks of eye charts, visual field tests, eye drops, and MRIs, the best ophthalmologist in the Midwest looked at my mom and I heard him say, “I’m sorry, there’s nothing we can do. Your daughter will most likely be blind by the age of 16.”
Now, almost 15 years later, I’m not blind. My vision is still awful, and I’m not able to drive, but luckily, there is so much more to life than seeing. I like to believe that I see things through the heart, and because of that, sometimes I see things that other people miss. :) And growing up with unpredictable and permanent optic nerve atrophy has taught me some very important life lessons. I don’t take things for granted. I try to see the beauty in everything. I know sometimes my optimism drives people crazy, but that’s how I’ve made it this far. I have to. Because my only other option is to cry. And complain about how life isn’t fair. And it isn’t. But that’s okay with me. Because God is good and I have learned to place my trust in him.
I could list memories for days. Most are good ones, a few are right up there with that day at the eye doctor when it seemed like all hope was lost. I swear I can remember almost everything, although my mom claims that most of my memories are distorted. She’s getting old, though, so I don’t know if I trust her version of my memories, either. :) One of these days I would love to write a memoir. Even if no one saw it but my family, I think it would be worth it. I would hate to think that these memories and stories would just end with me.
All in all, I am really going to miss being ‘a kid’. As I tell people on a daily basis, things aren’t ever perfect, but it’s hard to forget how incredibly blessed I have been. Reflecting on my childhood, I see how every experience was a life lesson, and how my happiest moments were not special because of where I was or what I was doing, but because of the people I shared these memories with. And even though I might not be able to go back to those childhood days, I pray I’ll never grow too old to learn, or spend time with my family, or have faith like a child. And for me, the great thing about my past is that it is my inspiration for my future. I can't wait for all the memories that are waiting to be made!
From Jess, with love <3
always
