On a trip to Chicago soon after our last child left home for college, my husband, Dan made a statement revealing a truth that hit me like a sledgehammer. I love Chicago at Christmas. It is truly magical. But everything I saw. . .the twinkling lights, the carolers, the window treatments, the light-falling snow. . .found me exclaiming, “Oh, I wish the kids were here to see this!” Finally, Dan asked me, “Can’t you enjoy anything without the kids? Can you enjoy it for us? For you?” I realized he was pointing out a very valid fact. I simply didn’t know how to enjoy my life without seeing it through the excitement of other people’s lives. It was a pattern I had a hard time breaking and took a few years of introspection, counseling, reading and a concerted effort to discover who I truly was and how God had uniquely prepared me for the life I was to live.

So a little personal history might give a bit of insight into why this quest for creating peace and harmony in my home became so important to me. From the first year of my married life I knew I didn’t want to emulate the chaos, anger and unrest I had experienced growing up but I don’t think I realized till well into my marriage that I had this relentless desire for Creating a Haven of Peace no matter how hard it seemed at the time. I wanted so much more than I had experienced and I hope this insight will help you look at yourself and your life with new eyes and gain a new perspective.

Will The Real Joanne Please Stand Up?

By the time I was four years old my mother had been divorced twice. I had two younger sisters whom I was expected to help raise. . . I became like a surrogate spouse, fulfilling many household duties, rarely having time to pursue activities I wanted to do. I would escape in the pages of a book as often as I could get away from the continual chores and duties I was forced to do. We lived in poverty and on welfare much of my growing up years. I was expected to clean, cook, iron, and babysit from my earliest memories. My mother was independent, domineering and hated men. All extended family members were also divorced so there were no male influences in my life except for a step-grandfather who was distant and often drunk. My mother took out much of her frustration and anger on her children by abusive beatings and hair pulling, foul language and threats. . .yet her puritanical morals, were strictly enforced, thus I was very limited in what I could do socially and outside the home. We did not attend church or clubs or other community events. We moved often so I rarely had long-term friends. My world was very narrow.

When I was seventeen my mother remarried my father to use his money in order to save her home from foreclosure. Then she divorced him again after much fighting and drunken episodes in front of us children. When I was eighteen my boyfriend (now my husband) moved me out of the house and into a rented bedroom in the home of an elderly lady because he felt my mother had become so angry and abusive I was in harm’s way. I was chronically ill with colitis and anemia due to the stress. For ten years after I married at age nineteen, my mother would make me so ill by her rages when I would visit that we vowed never to live in the same state with her. When I wanted to share the joy and excitement over the birth of our first baby, she returned my letters and pictures unopened which crushed my heart and wounded me deeply. I longed for her approval and love.

What you have just read is one version of my story. It is true and would be a good excuse for giving up, settling for a mediocre life and becoming a life-long victim. But here is another version of my story. I like this one better. It, too, is true. It shows a perspective I prefer to embrace and has defined my adult life far more than the prior story.

I grew up experiencing homemade clothes my grandmother lovingly put together for me and Christmases with beautiful handmade gifts and dolls. When I was entering fourth grade my mother decided she wanted to get off welfare so she applied to college and was accepted even though she only had a tenth grade education. We were privileged to live on the college campus and I was able to use the library often. When my mother took classes I often studied along with her and learned about geology, English literature, science, classical music and art. I was able to go to a small private grade school with the children of the professors at the college. I learned French in fourth grade. I had an extensive geological rock collection that I was able to put in shows. I learned how to make beautiful rock gardens. I was introduced very early to the advantages of learning and avid reading that transported me to places I had never known about before and longed to visit. I learned to make things beautiful by being creative and striving to keep my world clean of clutter and filth. I would transplant the flowers from the woods to our small patch of dirt around the Quonset hut we lived in. I learned to cook, clean, iron and be a good housekeeper from the time I was old enough to hold a broom. I learned how to improvise and can fix just about anything with Scotch tape, rubber bands and thumbtacks!

Because we moved often I learned to make friends easily and be flexible. Being the oldest in a single family home, I learned to keep house and nurture my younger sisters when my mother was too busy. My history set the stage for teaching me what I wanted for my future and what I knew I didn’t want to emulate. My upbringing gave me the determination to create a Haven of Peace as it set the stage for my enjoyment of mothering and being a homemaker; to be proud of the strength I derived from not having everything given to me easily.

You can determine who you want to become and what will define your life. You can use your past as an excuse for failure or you can use it to draw a line in the sand and change your family tree.

Here’s a challenge for you: Write two versions of your own story. It is a great exercise and will make you think about your own perspective and what defines you. Be as complete and descriptive as you can. Which story do you most want to continue? What legacy do you want to leave for your children that will give them a good beginning for their own story?