NORMAL?

That is a word not usually associated with me.  I have been called not-normal, unusual, unique, and strange.  Those words are usually associated with the way my mind works.  To that I say, “And proud of it!”  The thing is, I like normal.

Normal is a routine that makes life easier.  Normal is having an alarm set that encourages you to start your day.  Normal is … Oh for goodness sakes, THERE IS NO NORMAL!

People my age - aka old - grew up watching Leave It To Beaver and Life With Father.  The wives wore dresses, pearls, and high heeled shoes.  The kids got in trouble but each infraction was a lesson.  The husband would come home from work, change from a suit coat to a sweater, and relax by reading the daily paper.  Then all sat down to eat supper together.  We thought this was what normal life should be.  NEWS FLASH: IT WAS NOT NORMAL THEN AND IT IS NOT NORMAL NOW.

My dad was a trucker.  We never knew when he would be home.  He wore work pants and a shirt.  No suit and tie for him.  Mom was a stay at home wife and mother.  She did the cleaning, cooking, sewing, gardening, canning, and laundry.  Us kids had chores and were to do as we were told without any argument.  We were to go to school and do our homework without being told. 

That was my normal.  Was it a good normal? Sometimes.  Sometimes not.  But it was normal for me.

The trouble is my normal lacked a lot of things.  My neighbor always had new clothes.  I had her hand-me-downs.  When it was daylight at 9:00 PM, I could hear the neighborhood kids still playing.  I had a bedtime.  In high school, other kids went to restaurants for lunch (we did not have a cafeteria).  I walked home for lunch or took a sack lunch.  Other girls were allowed to go here and there, but I had a whole list of places I could not go.  I saw fathers hugging their children and I saw mothers listening with compassion.  I had parents that were not huggers and a mother that did not listen.  I wanted what other kids had.  What other families had.

You see, I wanted the normal other kids had.  I wanted new clothes.  I wanted to go to bed when I was ready.  I wanted to go where I wanted.  I wanted a father that was home regularly.  I wanted a mother that would listen.  I wanted …

David saw Bathsheba and he wanted her…

Lot’s wife wanted to look back at what she was leaving…

Ananias and Sapphira wanted to keep money for themselves…

- - - - - - - - - - - 

This started out to be a blog about being normal, but somewhere it took a bit of a turn.  I realized my life was normal for me.  It was just not the normal I wanted.  I realized I wanted what my friends had.  I think they call that coveting.

Thou shalt not covet they neighbour’s house, thou shalt not covet they neighbour’s wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is they neighbour’s.             Exodus 20:17

I was blessed in my not normal home.  I had a father that provided for his family.  I had a mother that managed a home and took care of us.  I had clothes, a bed, and food.  I had restrictions that made sense to my parents.  The problem is, instead of seeing my blessings, I saw the blessings other people had.  And I wanted them.