I Learned From a Child

God gave me this special place in my heart just for children. I’ve always loved them.

When I was 10, I started working with the 2-year-old kids at my church. It was awesome. Probably one of my favorite parts of the week. One Sunday we had a new kiddo who was turning 2 that very day. His name was Seth. This kid, he was so amazing. He came right in and started playing with me, and we just got along together so well. He came every week, and he and I would play (along with the other kids, of course).

Seth was the most adorable little dude ever. He was a bit skinny, but not in a bad way. He had light brown hair, but blue eyes. I got to know him all throughout the next year. We were good friends. After a while, he turned three. I was so sad, because I thought that meant I couldn’t see him anymore. He was growing up. Fortunately, I ended up moving up with him sometimes. I knew this kid when he was 3, 4, 5…. His mom loved me for some reason, and she got me to babysit him.

Seth wasn’t like the other kids I would babysit. He wanted to be a pilot. He knew the names of each of the basic parts of an airplane, and their functions. His dad was a pilot. Seth’s favorite color was green. His favorite food was cereal, specifically Fruit Loops. This kid could never stay still. We would play outside and run around. Pretend to be a pilot. Pretend to be an engineer. Pretend to be a hunter. Seth’s imagination never failed. Once upon a time, Seth was searching Antarctica for any food he could find, when he found himself face to face with a bear (which was threatening him with a rifle).

Seth grew as I grew. I helped him learn to read as he turned three. I ran around with him as he learned to play foot ball the next year. I helped him out as he learned how to keep friends. Before I knew it, he was about to be 6 years old, and I had seen him grow so much.

But Seth taught me things too. It’s so special. He was so positive, so energetic. This little kid loved God so much. The boy went around lighting up people’s worlds, showing them the love of God, and he was 5 years old! He was always keeping his chin up. He always kept my chin up. I would see him every Sunday and always learn something new. He taught me to appreciate moments. He told me once in a profound moment of beauty that if his plane was ever crashing, he would close his eyes, thank the Lord, and feel the wind against his cheeks. That moment is one that I will never forget. Whenever I feel like I can’t fall any further, I remember the 5-year-old who stopped to smell the grass, simply because God made it for us.

Seth made me decide that I wanted children to be a part of my life. I would think that one day I would get out of college, establish a good career, get married… And then I would have two kids- a boy and a girl (whose names change every day). Sound very much like a typical girl’s fantasy to you? Maybe. But it’s one of those things I want for my future. More than a good college or whatever. I just love kids. They can get tedious and sometimes even chaotic…. But they’re gifts from God! You learn things from them! I love them!!

I guess that was my random string of thoughts for today about how influential children are. Thanks for reading the randomness. 😉 Thoughts? What great things have children taught you that you’ll never forget? Leave some comments!

Kennedy

“Sometimes I feel pretty sad. But then I remember that we can always be happy if we want to. All we have to do is decide!” -Seth

Why I Love Ferris Wheels

“…the idea of sitting in a Ferris wheel is ridiculously romantic to me.”

When I was little, I lived in a relatively small town that had one amusement park called Wonderland. It was nothing like your Six Flags or Disney Land. I think it had one roller coaster the last time I visited (which was when I was a ripe 6 years old.). It did have a haunted house that I loved, and the “Frog Hopper,” which was the best thing in the world to my easily-pleased mind.

What I always wanted to ride, though, was a Ferris wheel. I can’t remember if Wonderland had one, but I don’t remember being able to ride one. I’ve always been terribly short, so there wasn’t much I could ride. I remember one day watching a part of a movie, late at night. I wish I had known what it was, but I was young. In the movie, a man proposed to a lady in the sunset.

It launched a world of imagination. I would think about what it would be like to ride the thing- how I would pretend to fly, or to be able to see every moment from the sky. Even as I grew older, I used to wish I could get on a Ferris wheel and ride to the top. I never had a chance to ride one during my life in Albuquerque.

Sometimes I imagined it was early in the morning, sometimes at sunset. Maybe I could ride one in the light of the moon. That would be nice. Maybe on a beach. Maybe I could  sit in a Ferris wheel with my sister. Maybe one day a daughter. Maybe I could ride one with someone special. Maybe with a life-long friend. In any case, the idea of sitting in a Ferris wheel is ridiculously romantic to me.

Everyone tells me I should go to the fair and ride one there. Wanna know a secret? I have never been to the state fair. *Pauses while everyone gasps* I would go, but I hear it’s expensive, and I’m broke. Plus I have nobody to take me. Our fair is coming up really soon, and I know I’ll be one of the only ones to stay home and imagine riding a Ferris wheel. Oh well. One day!

There are other things that have high places in my fantasy mind, but a Ferris wheel is one of the main ones. What do you guys think of as special?

Hoping you maybe, possibly enjoy my odd musings,

Kenny ❤

P.S. I posted on my writing blog! You can get to the blog here. I love you guys! My sister also recently started blogging, and her blog can be found here. She is a bit more developed in her diction than I, so I think you guys will enjoy her posts.

“I see nothing in space as promising as the view from a Ferris wheel.” -E.B. White, The Points of My Compass

It Ends With This- True Happiness

I learned to be happy.

Good afternoon, you few readers of my blog! I hope you’re ready for the ending, because I’m ready to post it…

So I left the story with the blurry era. The memories that are dark and dizzying, and the secrets that were heavy and sharp. Well, eventually this stepfather of mine ended up being home alone with my sisters often. I didn’t exactly think of that as a good thing. Actually, I was so worried. I had a counselor at that point. Maybe I should write a post about counselors…. Later. Anyways, I was texting my counselor, who also happened to be a friend from my church, and that was how I revealed to her what happened when I was younger. I just let it out. It wasn’t hard to text it at that point, because it didn’t really feel real. Anyway, she convinced me that I needed to tell my mother.

At that point, I didn’t know what to expect. I mean, I knew my stepfather would be in quite a bit of trouble… I was so silly.

I told my mom one day, very randomly, and we just packed a bag and left the house. After that, there were a few stressful weeks, but I never spoke to that man again. Funny, I lived with him for so many years, and suddenly there was no way I was going to talk to him. He and my mom divorced, obviously. What’s ridiculous is that this was more than a year ago, and the police still haven’t put him in jail…. Isn’t that weird? And since he’s not in jail yet, he has visitation rights with my little sisters, which annoys me.

Well, it was about two months later that my mom was interested in another guy. At first, this basically broke all of my trust with her. All of it was just gone. I can’t say that I judged the situation properly. My mind was blinded by my past. But what I saw was the mother who went and married another guy while I was still openly wounded. It kinda broke any relationship I had with her, although it’s mending. More on that later.

Since my mom was getting married, we had to move to Texas. That was so hard because everyone I knew and loved lived in Albuquerque. It had all of my support. My church family. Well, I was happier than I had been when I was living with that stepfather, but I entered a different kind of depression (I wonder if people can be addicted to sadness… Thoughts?).

It wasn’t until Thanksgiving Day last year that I was happy. Truly happy. I remember something happened with my older sister, and it was terrible, and I had moved, and school sucked, and I just hid in the dark to cry. And then I was praying. And praying. And I asked for God to fill me up.

And then I got it. I was being so selfish. He had been leading me on this amazing journey the whole time, and I hadn’t realized it. I realized that happiness doesn’t rely on whether or not you were having a good day. On the contrary, it is a decision to look at everything God has given you and know that HE is enough.  And I was so happy. Truly happy. And I started to read my Bible more, because I realized that was important. Everything I had been thinking about changed, and it was awesome. I didn’t feel amazing. I chose to get past what I felt and listen to what God was telling me.

I started to change the way I thought about things. The situations in my life stayed the same. I still lived in a place where I knew nobody. I still had exactly two friends. I still had to listen to fights between my mother and former stepfather. But it didn’t matter. I was happy. Not only because of God’s blessings, but because of God himself. And I started to appreciate things. I appreciated the diversity of walking through the halls in the school, even if it was crowded. I appreciated the colors in the sky during the sunrise. I even started to appreciate those infuriating moments, because I knew that one day it would be worse and I would miss this.

Ever since then, I’ve just been so much more happy. I wish other people could feel it. I obviously still have bad days, but I see them and realize that they just happen and God is bigger.  That’s where I am now, and I’m looking forward to whatever bumps in the road are coming up, so that I can stand on top of it and feel taller than the sky. That’s the happy ending, for now! I hope you guys got something out of it, maybe!

Jesus and I love you all!

Kenny 🙂

“For every minute you are angry you lose sixty seconds of happiness.” –Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

What Comes Next

Okay, I left off when I was five years old, right? Well here’s what comes next…

For a while, I guess things were just different. I can’t remember much emotion after that, to be honest, except broken trust. It was about a year later that my mom remarried. I think I was somewhat indifferent to the idea. I didn’t have much to say about it, considering I was six. Well we moved to Santa Fe, New Mexico, and I got a little sister (Carynne). We lived in Santa Fe for about 10 months before moving to Albuquerque. I liked Albuquerque a lot better. I didn’t have many friends for a while. But I liked it there. We started going to this one church, and I started helping out with the little kids (I loved that).

I was maybe ten the next time I felt betrayed. I remember it was a Saturday. Mom was out with a friend, and everyone else had gone to bed. It is literally both physically and emotionally painful to type this right now…. My older sister lived in Texas with her dad, so I was “the oldest.” So my stepfather comes into the room. I’m not about to get into details (they hurt), but you all know what porn is. Imagine your father turning you into “entertainment.” You become the porn. And then you have to keep it a secret. Can’t let anybody know. (Fortunately, there was a no-touch rule, so I’m still a virgin. TMI?)

What the heck? Is this all I’m worth?

So did I tell anyone? Heck no! Like, “This guy is married to your mother. This guy is who puts dinner on the table. What’s gonna happen if you tell someone???” So you know what? That went on for more than just that night. A couple years, actually. Like a secret game. And the whole time I told absolutely no one.

We moved to a bigger house then, and I turned 12. That whole thing kinda stopped happening, and it was replaced with perverted “inside jokes.” Disgusting. And you know what? I told him to stop. Then he was mad at me, and we openly disliked each other. Unfortunately for me, that worked out in his favor. Remember, my mother didn’t know what happened. Therefore, she thought I was just completely disrespectful. I got into trouble a lot because of that. But I still never told anyone. By the time I was 13, I had another sister named Madison, along with all the rest of my family.

I think one of the worst parts was that my self-worth was now below zero. And it’s still pretty low, really. I felt like I was useless. I felt like everything I had was all used up. I can’t even explain how badly I felt about myself… Really. I feel sorry for anyone who lacks confidence as much as I do. Freshman year helped me out, but there will be more about that later.

So there’s checkpoint number 2. I really can’t type any more right now, and it scares me that I’m about to post this, but I’ll write more later. Bit by bit.

Thank you all for being there,

Kennedy

“You’re not the worthless they made you feel…” –Matthew West, “Broken Girl”

The One Dedicated to My Brother

Look at the little kid. 🙂 He used to be cute. 🙂

Well today is my brother’s birthday, and he is officially a teenager. I’ve known him for thirteen years now, and we have some pretty amazing memories.

Alex is crazy. I’ll start by telling you that. He’s awkward, and weird, and random, and sometimes annoying. He also happens to be hilarious. I can tell you that there’s not much that can make me laugh harder than when he puts on his nerd voice and says “Hey, chili cheese.” (He always winks to go with it.)

My brother and I don’t always get along, but there’s that connection that comes with having a brother. It’s not like it’s obvious, or mushy, or full of sunshine, but it’s love. He’s younger than I am, but he’s still there to listen to my rants. He still shows me how to do a back flip into the swimming pool. He’ll give me his opinion on that one book, or one of my stories, or whatever. It’s special and different. We do fight, but it’s almost funny how ridiculous it is.

Thinking of his birthday, I always remember this one day when we were bored and lived in Santa Fe, New Mexico. I had decided to “decrease the ant population.” In other words, I went outside and bent over squishing every ant I could find with my little index finger. I was only six, and Alex was three. I had killed so many ants, and Alex was behind me doing whatever. And then I looked back at him, and you know what? He was eating every single ant that I killed. I was like “What on earth????” And then I turned back around and went back to killing ants.

That same year we decided to eat sap from a tree, because we thought it would taste like honey. I learned a lesson that day. 😉

Lots of people think that my brother and I don’t like each other or whatever, but to be honest, I don’t know what I would do without him. He’s different, and crazy, and I love that he can do something completely random and it’s not weird to me anymore. I wish that I had appreciated him more in the past years. I guess the moral of my rambling is that you should appreciate whatever you’ve got, even if it’s a daily nuisance. Truth be told, you”ll probably grow to love every moment of it.

I love you, Broski!

Kenny

“There is a little boy inside the man who is my brother… Oh, how I hated that little boy. And how I love him too.” –Anna Quindlen

Those First Years

I used to be little!

Good afternoon, readers. I was thinking the other day about when I was young(er), and it made me remember why I even started this blog…. For those of you who don’t know, the whole point was just to let things out that don’t need to be kept in. That said, I will slowly be telling you guys about my past. Not because it’s a super great read, but mostly because I feel like I need to. Need to just get it out, you know? So here’s one about my first five or six years.

I obviously don’t remember much about being a baby, but what I know is that my mom and I moved around a lot. I have an older sister, and she has a different dad than I do, so I saw her often, but not 24/7. My mom was single, and I didn’t know my biological father (but that’s for a different post). Soon after I was born (I think it was when we were living in Massachusetts), my mom married this guy named Joe. For a while I grew up thinking he was actually my father, and that wasn’t a problem since I was young. I loved him like I would love a father.

He was a scientist. You probably all know that I’m a nerd, right? Well, I’ll tell you why. Every night, he would read me a “bedtime story.” In other words, the latest articles from Scientist’s Digest. You can laugh. I could read and write when I was three years old. I was not allowed to say normal things like “doggie” or “horsie”, I had to say horse. Or dog. Or urinate. Always scientific. I don’t regret that- it started me off well, I think.

Anyway, I loved Joe quite a bit, and I trusted him. The family was him, my mom, Bree, me, and soon Alex. My mom ran a daycare in our house, which was awesome because I met loads of kids. We were pretty happy.

I’m gonna say this one more time: I loved Joe, and I trusted Joe.

Annnnd then he raped my sister. And several other girls. And no one told me that because I was too young.

I remember the day it happened. I woke up, turned off my alarm, changed, put shoes on, grabbed my belt, and walked into the living room. Normally there would be a bunch of little kids from the daycare, and I would head off to go to school. That day, there were two people and that’s it- my mom, and Joe. And my mom was crying. And Joe was pacing.

And I asked “Why is Mama crying?”

“I’m going away for a little while.” That’s what he told me. “But I love you.” That’s the second thing he told me. Looking back, I feel like he was lying through his teeth. He might as well have said “Yeah, I love you, but I just now screwed up the lives of a whole bunch of girls, including your sister’s, not to mention left you alone and fatherless and confused.”

I didn’t understand that at the time. I remember visiting him at the prison every once in a while. After that, it was just letters that he sent me. Then I can remember the day I understood. My mom had said “He’s not your father anymore.” And that was it, I got it. I was five years old and in 1st grade. After that, I really didn’t know who to trust.

So there’s a beginning. I’ll probably let out more later. Something more about me specifically. Until then, I hope you guys have a great day.

Sincerely,

Kennedy

“Everyone suffers at least one bad betrayal in their lifetime. It’s what unites us. The trick is not to let it destroy your trust in others when that happens. Don’t let them take that from you.” –Sherrilyn Kenyon, Invincible