Searchfortreasure's Blog

…a Bible student's notes…

Don’t skip this one…..very important….

Conversations with my GRANDdaughter, part 11…

Listen up. I want you to know something about remembering from my 69 year-old perspective.

Childhood memories are not stored as perfectly presented facts as they happened – in order. They were stored in my memory with the strands of my attitudes and feelings during the events, as they are woven together with the facts and become the fabrics of my life. That very process can alter the facts! However, it does not annul the facts.

You must know this! I am not being “preachy” when I tell you that when you are 69, the attitudes and the feelings you allowed yourself at 16 will dominate the actual events that you deem to be good or bad now. A happening at 16, viewed as “tragic,” will be preserved in your memory along with your 16-year-old attitudes and feelings. When brought to the front in your 69 old memory (or at most any future date), it will be remembered with bitterness or sweetness, with your attitude being the judge.

Read that again. I’ll wait.

Sarah, align your attitudes with God’s, NOW. You will never regret this ONE change you make in your life now for the rest of your life!

I cannot remember one actual event during the first 4 years of my life, but, I can remember being held securely in my father’s arms. He was so strong. He was warm and loving. I KNOW this through my “feeling” memory bank. You will want a man like that for a husband and father to your children. It (he) is rare; but do not lose heart that he doesn’t exist for you!

I love this subject and could go on and get “preachy.” Let’s get back to the “fun” for now.

At 16—hmmm…I could now officially shave my legs (which I had been doing anyway for a year or more). I could now wear makeup which consisted of foundation and light lipstick. No eye makeup, but I could use a light eye brow pencil – which I didn’t. But, I never knew what to do with my scant eye brows. My mom dyed hers brown. One could buy eyebrow dye. She bought brown. That’s all it was called, “brown.” There were not umpteen shades of brown with fancy names back then – just brown. So, I’m guessing it was kinda a medium brown.

Could’ve been a dark brown, for all I know. Secretly, I thought she looked fierce with those dark eyebrows. Just imagine that look on her face when I was going to get a whipping.

Back to being 16. She decides to let me do it. Read directions. Read them again. Line up the two tiny bottles with the built-in tiny brushes. Unscrew the lids. Stare into mirror. Observe brows. Cannot find them. They are light blond. Should I? Well, of course, who has blond, scanty brows in the world? Only me. Here goes. Do not get any on your fingers, as they will be dyed brown also. Too late. Carefully apply from bottle no. 1. Wait. Apply from no. 2 bottle. Observe! Yikes! Close eyes. Open. Yep! Still hideous. Or, are they? Not to me – back then; but the photos do not lie. They were hideous; but, I thought myself pretty and all “grown up.” Trouble was – the dye dyed my skin under my eyebrows as well. And, when it wore off, I did it again! That meant that I DID have a dozen shades of brown as it wore off, then, walla – all dark again.

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July 13, 2011 - Posted by | Conversations with my GRANDdaughter

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