I’ve spent today reading three different books online–The Kingdom Within: The Inner Meaning of Jesus’ Sayings by John A. Sanford, Cathedral by David Macauley (about gothic architecture), and What Your Childhood Memories Say about You by Dr. Kevin Leman. And whereas I love reading and learning, after several hours of this my eyeballs felt like they were going to fall out of my head and roll around on the floor, so I shut my laptop and went for a walk.

While strolling, I thought about the book I’d just been reading, about childhood memories. The author of the book contends that we form how we see ourselves and the world around us basically by the age of eight and that our early memories can clue us in to not only who we are and what we believe, but also why. Anyway, I started scanning my memory banks and came up with several instances when I felt excited about learning or figuring things out, as well as several instances when I felt afraid or embarrassed. This is important, the book says–if it’s really a formative memory, there will be an emotion attached to it.

Because I’m currently tired and would like to keep this short, I don’t intend to go into my specific memories. Plus, I’ve already discussed a number of “the biggies” here before. What I will say, however, is that although I haven’t finished reading the book, I already agree with its premise. Those emotions I just mentioned–excitement (about learning or figuring things out), fear, and embarrassment–continue to motivate nearly everything I do.

Here’s one way to think about all this. While walking tonight in downtown Van Buren, I stopped by what’s left of what used to be my family’s home, which burned down when I was four. The building itself has since been cleared, and there’s a park. Still, one brick wall remains, and even after thirty-five years, you can still see black smudges all along it. What I mean is that simply because something happened forever ago (when you were a child) doesn’t mean it can’t leave a long-lasting and permanent impression.

For me, the impression that the fire left was Something bad is going to happen. It really was a horrific night. Although my family was spared, nine people died in that fire, along with many of my stuffed animals. The next thing I knew, I was sleeping at a friend’s house, being given someone else’s toys to play with. Another emotion that comes up in a lot of my early memories is confusion, and perhaps the fire is where that feeling started. How confusing for a four-year-old to one day be living in a newly built three-story home and the next day be living on his friend’s pullout couch.

Because our home that burned really was lovely and then it was all gone, I think another impression the fire left was Good things get taken away. This is a belief that’s been reinforced for me a number of times–when Dad went to prison, when our new cars got repossessed. When all that happened, in my teens, both me and my family started getting more hand-me-downs. When I graduated high school, a family I deeply love gave me a car. And whereas it did the job and it was mine(!) for a few years, it was in rough shape. So, without meaning to, I guess I developed a spinoff belief of Good things get taken away–that I’m only worth second-rate things. Used things. Things nobody else would want.

This isn’t easy to talk about it. I don’t like the fact that something, a number somethings, that happened so long ago continue to influence my attitudes and behaviors even today. And yet they do. They continue to have sway over my platonic and romantic relationships (like, I don’t deserve the best), my relationship with money, how I think about healing, and even how I go for a walk. Because when you believe Something bad is going to happen, it’s difficult to ever relax. When you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, it’s hard to let your guard down.

The good news is that all of this is getting better. All of this is better than it used to be. For me, a lot of healing has come through writing and this blog, through simply stating the facts–I was scared when I saw the smoke that night, I was embarrassed my Dad went to prison, and I was embarrassed I couldn’t afford my own car. As I understand it, something magical happens when you can, with compassion, be a witness to your own life. Also, for me it’s been important to really grasp how much my difficult childhood experiences laid the groundwork for my personality, a personalty that although it experiences a great deal of fear and embarrassment, also experiences a great deal of inner fortitude and determination to overcome. I wouldn’t trade these positive qualities for the world. This is how life works. Whenever it takes something away from you, it gives you the opportunity to cultivate something better in return.

At the spot where our house once burned down, just next to that smoke-stained wall, now green grass grows.