Growing Up in a Small Town

I moved around quite a bit growing up. My parents divorced when I was 5 years old - we moved from country to city. We lived in a great neighborhood - I still have friends from those days. We moved to southern California when I was in 3rd or 4th grade and then we moved back to the Pacific Northwest with a new stepfather. My twin sisters were born when I was 10 years old - and we moved a few more times before settling in the Tri-Cities for a few years. My brother, 3 years older, and I moved to a very small town in Idaho with our father and stepmother. This is the town I grew up in (from 12 to 17; and then from 19 to 40-something).

This small town was filled with little old ladies (and men) who gossiped all day, stuck their noses in other people's business, and did not hesitate to pick up the phone and call my parents to report my "nefarious" activities regardless of the hour of the day. It also contained lots of good people who truly cared, sprinkled with a dash of not-so-good (but actually not bad) folks who just wanted to have a good time.

I was not a pretty teenager but I wasn't ugly either. I had long legs and loved wearing mini skirts very much. I also loved wearing blue jeans and t-shirts. I loved my parents but had a huge stubborn streak and did not do well with authority.

My brother died when I was 15 and my life was never the same. I hadn't been living at home at the time of his death but I went back for a short time because I knew that is what my brother would want. That didn't last very long.  I considered suicide briefly but made my mind up that I wouldn't give the people in this small town the satisfaction of going to my funeral - so that was that.

I did my fair share of partying and started smoking at 16. I lived life in that small town and never lied about who I was. I never tried to pass myself off as a "goodie two shoes" or the perfectly groomed "girl next door". I went to school, got good grades without a lot of effort, and graduated after 3 1/2 years of high school. I couldn't wait to get out of this small town and on my own! I did leave - got married - but was "back home" within a year. I got pregnant and discovered this just after my divorce was finalized. My daughter saved my life.

Eventually I met and married a man with three older kids and we had another one together. He adopted by daughter and life was good - or so I thought. That is a story for another post. We were married for nearly 15 years (the oldest kids were gone, the youngest was the only one at home).

The problem with a small town is everyone knows everyone and everyone's business - personal public - nothing is private. I learned a long time ago to not give two rips about what other people thought of me. But when my husband (yes, my third) and I decided we wanted to convert to Catholicism, we made the logical choice of going to the nearest Catholic Church (in the small town where I grew up). The very first time we walked through that door early one Sunday morning, I did not feel welcomed at all. Come to find out I knew a lot of people who were Catholic! Who knew? And they all knew every mistake I had made since I was 12.

While that didn't go well, we persevered and found a Catholic Church in a neighboring city that welcomed us with opened arms and so much unconditional love. Even when they learned that I had been married twice before and that not one, but two annulments had to be filed, they still loved us unconditionally. We were not judged for anything in our past. That is how every single Catholic Church should be - welcoming to ALL - even if we know the person to be a sinner (aren't we all sinners?); even if we know the person has had three husbands; it is NOT our place to judge anyone that walks through the door.

We no longer live in that small town. Both of my parents have passed and are buried there. I still have a few friends there; however, I have no desire to go back to that small town for any reason. I have moved on to another chapter of my life and while I was shaped by my life in that small town, there is nothing for me there.

I have learned a few things especially useful in my ministry as a Deacon wife from my time in the small town: 1) judging others is not right and should be left to God; 2) loving others is unconditional and given freely to all; and 3) welcoming newcomers to our parish/Church should be the responsibility of all parishioners.