This Old House 1.0

My mom still lives in my childhood home. I lived there for 16 years until I went to college in Oxford. Ahh, if I'm quiet enough, I can still hear the rumble of my Big Wheel racing down the driveway.

A few weeks ago, I made a decision that I was going to head up there once a week to take care of some landscaping and other home improvement projects. I'm taking classes part time, but the house is a full-time job, for a small corporation. Lots of projects. I had made the promise in the past to be more diligent about helping, but for some reason, I usually got distracted with stuff in Cincy, my job, house and other responsibilities.

Well, I don't have the job right now. I'm back in school, and I forgot how much I love that flexible schedule. I've been up there three times already. Even used a chainsaw for the first time. AWESOME!! If I could only use the chainsaw on weeds.

Speaking of weeds, my time up there has reminded me of some "spiritual weeds" that first started growing in my childhood. In my last trip up there alone, I recognized that I was introduced to pornography in my brother's fort in the backyard. Sadly/amazingly, I can still remember the pictures he had posted. I was likely 7 or 8 years old at the time. What a nasty weed that was and is. More on the porn stuff in later posts. I just want to document the blessing of having things brought back top of mind as I try to expel my personal demons once and for all.

Another memory from the backyard - my dad throwing a baseball at my shins repeatedly. I was worn out, feeling lazy, whatever. Look, I even accuse myself now. Bottom line, I wasn't "hitting him in the chest" with my throws as a youngster, so to teach me the importance, he whizzed the ball back at me at my shins. It hit a few times. Not fun. You see, you only where shin guards in soccer, so my legs were quite vulnerable during this backyard game of catch.

After this went on for a bit, I finally just ran around to the front of the house. I was sobbing. My dad was chasing me, quite pissed off at me. From there, I don't remember what really happened, what he said to me. I know he caught me and said some stuff that I'm sure wasn't encouraging.

So, let's do a quick tally. Viewing women as objects of lust...weedy seed planted. Fear of failure, not feeling good enough or strong enough. Scared of letting father down and what would result...weedy seed planted.

Wow, talk about some clean up that needs to take place.

I'm praying and expecting for other memories to come to light during this Strongholds class and my visits home. Much like weeding, you have to do some digging to get to the root, upsetting the soil around the weed to get it out. I want to invite God to break out his trowel, his shovel, his back hoe and whatever other tools are necessary to get these instruments of bondage and death OUT of me. As I type that, I sense Him telling me that I'm the foreman of this project, and I can give the orders.

Nice!