We overcome by the word of our testimony and by the blood of the Lamb!
He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart;
he gently leads those that have young. Isaiah 40:11
Part 1 ...
When I was but a young child, my mother gave me away so she could be free to marry the man of her dreams. I had lived in her house until I was 18 months old when she took me to a friend who started me on my journey through many foster homes. While I lived in these homes, I felt like a fish out of water without the love of anybody.
Me as a child ~ My Communion photo at the Catholic Church
My earliest memory was of a woman whom I was living with teaching Sunday School while I stood by her and observed. A few years later, I was placed in a Catholic home so as to be baptized in the faith of my mother. I stayed with these people during the Second World War Years, before they moved on to Pittsburgh. While living in this home, one of the foster boys had little ’bible pictures’ which I was drawn to many times, desiring them for my own. At the age of ten, I made my walk down the isle of a little country church to become the ’bride of God’. That is how our local priest described our First Communion Day. It was then that I became the proud owner of a little prayer book. Unfortunately this was soon lost when I attended church with a new foster family in the city of Cleveland. I had accidentally left it behind, never for it to be seen again.
While at this Cleveland home, while being babysat by the grandfather, he started making advances. I realized that it was not appropriate and prayed to get out of that home before I was hurt. Shortly after, the family moved to Chicago.
I was able to attend Catholic schools during the remaining elementary years, thus learning allot about my faith. Most of it was from a Catholic perspective and much time was spent learning about the lives of the saints of the church. For my confirmation, I chose Saint Theresa the Little Flower as my patron saint. (She had been a martyr. The statue of her was in the hall of my Catholic Orphanage Cottage and she looked so pretty so that is what drew me to choose her.)
While attending this orphanage, the nun suggested that since we were very young and not caught up with the love of men, we should take this time to pray for a good Christian husband. This I did.
This orphanage wasn’t one in the true sense of the word, because most of the children were cared for by the nuns because of home tragedies. They used a lot of music and pageantry in their masses. It was while I was a member of the girls choir that I learned worship music and longed for this expression when I moved from the campus. Unfortunately, it was at this time, that I learned many falsehoods from these dear nuns as well.
When I moved from the Catholic Orphanage, I went on to live the final school years in a home in Independence. I had the typical Catholic religion lessons once a week, held by the local priest of the parish. I was greatly disappointed in the silent masses of the time. I joined the adult choir but I found them very boring, so I dropped out. I longed for the pageantry that I experienced at orphanage.
I was drawn to the things of God, attending special services when I was able. It was at this time that a doctrine of Mary came into being and we were told that we were to accept martyrdom than deny it. I faithfully believed this doctrine, as well kept all the special fasts, did the penance, and observed all the holy days. I still had a thirst for more.
I am the Lord that brought you out of the slavery of Egypt ...
I grew up seeing that I didn't fit into place anywhere. I became aware of my different features and I saw myself as the Ugly Duckling that stayed ugly. I didn’t realize that I was a different nationality than those that I lived with, thus making the difference. The final foster home also brought to my awareness of my larger bone mass, (which later I discovered that I didn’t really have). They put much emphasis on the smaller of 5-6 dress size and that I wore a large size of 11-12. I was teased about my large hips, calling me ’high pockets’. Obvious since they saw me as being too large, I was encouraged to go to the town’s diet doctor by the time I turned 18. He prescribed barbiturates. Then I was really on a mental roller coaster ride.
While living in foster homes, the welfare had supplied all my clothing. Living during the war years, I was told that these clothes were to be worn on special occasions only. It became special when we went to Pittsburgh on a few special occasions. We did wear the shoes that were provided, but when they wore out, we were left to wear them with soles flapping and cardboard inner soles to help cover the holes in the outer soles. I observed that my neighborhood children wore sandals. In the summer, we wore the shoes to church only. After the war, I was permitted to wear my skirts and blouses that the welfare provided. I noticed that other girls didn’t have their hair braided so severely.
This is my high school graduation picture.
When I left that home, I was happy that the first thing that the new foster mother did was to cut and perm my hair. During high school, the supplied clothes came from a special place that the social worker took us. The racks had items that were donated by department stores. The tags were still on but many of the items were soiled.
From a child, I was very conscience of how I looked and how I was dressed. When others teased me, I found books in the library regarding personal care. As a teenager I wanted to join my friends in attending modeling school. When that was denied, back to the library I went finding books on the training of models.
Then after I was praised regarding my poor attempts of drawing, I wanted to take art classes. I became the number one dreamer. Better always eluded me and I was always searching to fit in.
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