Test Post: Looking for the Comment Box

Sunday, September 29, 2013

Test Post: Looking for the Comment Box

Dear Colleagues,

I am checking to see if my settings have been changed or if I have some type of glitch in my blog posts.

Sincerely,
Wendy

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Personal Childhood Web

Joanie Peterson, my mother, was very engaged in my life from birth. I was the oldest and the only child until I was five. I was loved,my mother spent time with me by including me in whatever activities needed to be done. I remember the old tile floor in the kitchen that had to be waxed regularly. When the wax dried, my mother would give me an old towel to stand on and she would put on music and we would dance the twist until the tiles were buffed. My mother was finishing her bachelor degree in psychology and English during my first three years. I had the opportunity to meet lots of people in a community of shared values. I had time to play uninterrupted and my play was very creative and complex, with hours outside. I was read to and the value of learning was instilled in me early, but not in a competitive way, to be recognized as the best, but in a very personal way. Was I giving the task or the skill my best effort? Her approach to parenting developed intrinsic motivation in me. I am a great team player, motivated and satisfied to make sure the team does well. The measure of achievement is the level to which I tried my best. I can take a risk to take on a new challenge, because I know my mother will always love me. I value personal responsibility.

Rev. Merton Peterson, my father, was finishing seminary and pastoring his first church when I was born. I remember sitting on his lap, watching him type, helping fold bulletins, turning the handle on the old mimeograph machine, and going on home visits with him, when he needed to visit families from the church. We did not have material wealth, but I never felt poor We had enough that we could share. My did believed in me, when there was something I needed to do or learn he always spoke as though I had already mastered the task. I believe he spoke with confidence, because he has prayed for me every day of my life. Being a pastor's child means you learn manners, expectations and hospitality very early. We had lots of company. I loved giving up my bedroom and sleeping in a sleeping bag so the missionaries could have my room when they visited. I would listen to stories of their experiences in different countries and how they would help build homes and schools and grow crops wile they shared that Jesus loved them. I share my family's faith in God and the value that people are more important than things.

My extended family did not live close to me as I was growing up. But my grandmothers and aunt were prolific letter writers. We visited family every holiday, making holidays feel very special. I would listen to the adults share stories about family and friends. I knew that family were there for each other. My great-great grandparents were homesteaders. There was a strong sense of work ethic practiced. There were ranchers and there were farmers. It takes commitment and self determination to make it work. The entire family has to help to get the cattle in or harvest the crops. I remember the first time I was allowed to go on a cattle drive. I was probably seven. The strong connection to aunts, uncles and cousins as we spent the day on horseback gathering the cattle that were scattered among the trees and meadows in the foothills was exhilarating—I belonged, I was given worthwhile work. The farming family was an even stronger influence on my work ethic. When we visited the farm there was always tasks I could participate in: picking fruits and vegetables to can or freeze for my families use and when I got older picking melons or driving a tractor. It was part of being a member of my family. My family values hard work and integrity.

The church community provided a foundation of belonging and strength in conviction. Looking back I can appreciate that those families made sacrifices to make I had what I needed. The children were my friends, we could discuss the roles we were in and decisions we faced from a shared set of values. I never felt alone. As a community we looked out for each other. The community demonstrated living the values they held.

School Environment, Most people cannot imagine going to a school that houses children from kindergarten through senior high in the same building. Still the school community had enough diversity of values that it was a great place to have my values challenged and for me to exercise the decisions to stand true to my values. With only thirteen in my graduate class, but still the roles and functions of any school, there was so much opportunity to try out many different tasks. There were sports, student council officers, music, drama and clubs. I tried it all, because in a school that small everyone needs to get involved to have enough participants. My work ethic and integrity rewarded me with responsibility and opportunities. The most unusual was a flight class to learn to be a pilot, which included flight hours in a small plane. In the state I was raised, schools were the hub of activity for rural communities. Everyone came to all the events. People valued being together.

Wendy Newby - Have I asked the right question?

Sunday, September 29, 2013