It was in Texas that my parents found healing for their hurting souls. It was a separation, physically and spiritually. No longer with ministerial duties, they were now free to be ministered to in a whole new environment and by people who seemed to care. It was a new start. We quickly fit in with a tight-nit community of believers who attended the same church and many of whom lived in the same neighborhood as we did. I have many fond memories of those years.
I remember this church we first attended in Austin, Texas was a bit scary at times for me. Apparently they were practicing the ‘gifts of the spirit’ but this was pretty far out of our/my comfort zone for quite some time (at least for my mother and I). Regardless, we felt at home and felt the presence of God in a new and powerful way. The church was at the time non-denominational and it was there we first saw people raising hands and clapping in church. They sang songs that were unfamiliar and that weren’t in a book written a hundred years ago. They played guitars and tambourines. People expressed their emotions. Not everyone wore a suit and tie, actually no one ever did that I remember. They openly prayed for each other too! There was a freedom and energy there that we had not experienced in church before. My father explains that it was here that he began to have a real relationship with God. Rather than simply just knowing about God… he was finally getting to know Him, personally.
The strong community of friends that we had at this church was one of the most important if not THE most important factor for the healing, restoration and progressing that my parents felt. My father never would return to a full time ministry position. Wisely, he also realized the roofing life was not for him either and thus pursued a career in sales which he did quite well at.
Unfortunately, a few years later that church would begin to spiral as they revealed becoming part of a bigger denomination and would soon thereafter fall apart. All but a tiny few went their own way. Several of our closest friends ended up moving entirely out of state. We ended up at another church on the other side of town, about 45 minutes away. Once again, my parents felt at home there… taking the next steps in their own personal spiritual evolution.
We still moved around quite a bit in Texas for a few years until we finally purchased our very first home in 1984; we had it built just for us. It must have been within a year of moving into that new house (I was eleven years old) that I found out I was going to be a big brother again. This was another big part of the healing process for my parents, altho completely unexpected.
A new house, a new baby. Both my parents had decent jobs, everything was looking up. But once again, things do change. The economy was beginning to fail in Texas at the latter half of the 1980’s. After a couple years we ended up bankrupt and lost the house along with our primary vehicle at the time. We quickly found ourselves renting a small duplex and driving a very inadequate tiny old car. For a year or two I remember getting up every morning at 3 AM to help my father run a newspaper route just to earn some extra money. Things were rough and getting worse financially. The only consolation was the church we were apart of was feeding my parents spiritually… altho I never really felt connected at all.
Throughout the entire 8 years of living in Texas I attended a private christian school. First and second grades were at a small Nazarene church school, then I went to an “independent” Christian school that ended up being extremely Calvinistic and ultra STRICT… I remember many run-ins to the principles office for minor offenses. One time I was spanked with a wooden paddle for simply forgetting to wear a belt. It wasn’t long after that my father finally had enough and for my 7th and 8th grade years I stayed home and did homeschool.
Finally in the summer of 1989 things got to a breaking point with the economy and my parents were hitting a brick wall. My mom’s father asked us to move back to Minnesota. We could live with them temporarily to get re-established. My mom’s truck-driving brother offered to come down with an 18-wheeler and help us move. We took them up on the offer and either sold or gave away much of what we had left. We packed the rest into half of a semi trailer and moved north.
By that point I really only had 1 solid friend anyway. We had met while in private christian school and he was now being homeschooled as well. We were very close thru the late 80’s up to that point. Even tho my family had been going to a church pretty consistently for a few years, I never really felt like I fit in or made any friends there. Friends never really came easy for me. Of course, early teens are awkward for everyone and while I had attempted to join the youth group I just never really felt like I fit in. I was a good kid tho and rolled with the punches. Baptist to Pentecostal, friends to no friends, school to no school I have always been pretty flexible… I had to be and would continue to be.
I had always loved my grandparents, mostly because I rarely saw them. I loved their farm, the tractors and especially the Minnesota snow in the winter. I have so many fond memories of visiting them and the farm during Christmas or summers. I had actually always wished that I could live on the farm with them in Minnesota and that was about to happen.
to be continued…
