Who hasn’t heard the difficult or traumatic stories of family members as they were growing up? Usually I received them when I complained about something:

“The power’s off. I can’t watch TV.”

“It’s raining outside and I can’t ride my bike.”

You get the idea.

That’s when my Mamaw Jo felt the need to tell me about her childhood difficulties. The one I heard the most was: “I had to walk to school for miles in the blinding snow.”

For the record, I did not make that up. She actually said that to me several times. And to be honest, I didn’t really believe her. No, I didn’t think she was lying. Instead I thought she was exaggerating. As a kid, I couldn’t imagine anybody having such a strong desire to go school that they would walk for miles in blizzard like conditions to get there.

Hearing her story was so frustrating to me that I decided that if I ever had any kids, I wouldn’t do that to them.

Mamaw Jo passed away a few years ago. One day, my mother and step-father drove up to Union County to where she lived as a child. They even visited the two room school house in Washburn she attended. Amazingly, they met somebody who attended school with her.

You know what? She wasn’t exaggerating at all about walking in the snow.

Let’s face it, most of us don’t like to hear instructions or stories from our parents or other family members, especially when we’re young. Then we age and/or have experiences and think, “Yeah, I should’ve listened.” If I had done that with Mamaw Jo, I would’ve realized the important lesson of appreciating how good I have it. And that should lead to a thankful heart.

“O give thanks unto the Lord, for he is good: for his mercy endureth for ever.” Psalm 107:1 (KJV)

Remember me saying I would not do that to my kids? I did anyway, but I did have one story that amazed Sara. I told her that when I was growing up, we only had 3 TV channels. And that was on a clear day. Outside our kitchen door, stood a tall TV antenna. A big gust of wind could move it and mess up our TV reception.

When that happened, my dad would go to the door and twist the antenna around for better reception while my mom and I sat in front of the TV. Since we were in the living room, we had to yell at him to keep turning until the picture cleared up. Sometimes he’d turn it too far and we’d have to yell at him to turn it back.

Goodness. How did we ever survive?