I can blame my past or put on my boots.

Life was hard for me as a child. I can say that I know what it is like to live as a child of an alcoholic. I can say many things, it was very dysfunctional. However, during the worst of those years, there was always some food on the table—even though eating cereal with a fork is not cool; to save on milk. The mother figure had to ensure we had enough milk and five kids are not easy to raise. There were certainly difficulties during those years and she did what she could to help us kids, three of whom were not hers and one of the three (me) was not even his. She was a teenage angel in that she did care and yet it did yield some terrible experiences for me (as I was the oldest and did not belong to either of the two). I do not want to disparage her. She did what my mother did not do and I can appreciate that. 
 
Those were not the only years that were very difficult for me. Oh, just to name a few publically would be so rich and sensational and a great marketing tool. For instance, my mother would eventually have all three of us in her care. There was one summer where we lived in a tent, in a State park. There was another time where the kids of my mother’s boyfriend sabotaged a bike before I jumped a ramp. I could have been killed. I have the scar to prove it. Life was difficult as a teenager too, lack of self-esteem, identity issues, typical things that come with growing up in a dysfunctional family. 
 
I grew up with a lot of anger in my life, especially as a young man. Those close to me would say that they hear a lot of anger and I would deny it. One time, I conducted the funeral for my mother, whom I love and was able to pray with before she passed. A few of my aunts would say that I seemed angry as I conducted the funeral. I denied it. A few years ago, I realized that the anger that I had was in my subconscious and it was directed towards my mother. Yes, I had mommy issues (in relation to abandonment). In reality, I could be angry at others. 
 
I think those of us who had grown up with difficulties can be a great metaphor to our nation’s current cultural anger toward our Nation’s past. Just as I had a choice to make, our Nation has a choice to make.  To be angry and continue to be angry or to reflect and learn from the past. Yes, our Nation was not always healthy or perfect. Are there any healthy or perfect Nations? Nations are really people, people make up nations. We can allow our anger to tear us up or we can learn and grow from it.
 
For me, as a believer, I think of 1 Peter 1 where Peter encourages us by stating that our suffering leads to a stronger faith. My experiences as a child and adolescent has certainly strengthened me because I made a choice to grow and not live in the muck and mire of dysfunction. I chose to put on my boots and clean up the muck, mud, of dysfunction. Can you put on your boots, learn from the past, and grow?