A Tribute to Those Who Helped Me as a Child

It is very easy to thank someone who may never have realized that they helped you in the past. I had the opportunity to do this yesterday. We went to the memorial of a friend's mother and ran into a man that helped me as a child. He never knew how much of an impact he had on my life.

Those of you who know me through my writing, or in real life, know that my childhood was not an easy one. My male role models as well as most of the close females in my life were not good ones. Since my first father was no longer in the picture my main male role model was my biological father.

My grandmother feared for us both physically and spiritually. If itweren'tfor her going with us to church on the neighborhood Sunday school bus we would not have had any positive church experience. She was one of my good female role models even though she was very fearful and a bit neurotic because of her rigid upbringing. Never the less she loved us and protected us to the best of her ability.

Ironically enough, the church was less than a mile from our house. We rode on that bus over God's green acres for miles just to get to the church. Because my mother in her passive aggressive way, wouldn't drive us to church with her poor arthritic mother, I was impacted by the kindness of these bus drivers on the Sunday school bus.

My biological father was a rage-aholic. He was angry and terrifying. When he was not scary he was just sarcastic and mean spirited. I loved him in spite of it and wanted his approval. It only came through athletics. He was raised Catholic although he did not attend church. It is hard to find acceptance in the Catholic Church when you were living the lifestyle that he was. Then there was my hateful Christian hating mother to contend with. Once again I am turning a short story into a long one.

My brother and I would get onto the old rickety Sunday school bus with our grandmother and some of the other neighborhood kids. We would ride over bumpy roads in the stifling heat picking up other little unchurched urchins. My grandmother valiantly rode along, the only adult except for two men. One drove the bus and the other rode along to try to maintain some semblance of order with the children. One hideously hot Sunday morning, a little girl got bus-sick and heaved up her breakfast. It was not a pleasant experience. I don't remember what they did about cleaning her up for Sunday school or if they turned around and took her back home.

If that wasn't enough to drive anyone crazy I don't know what would. Amazingly enough the bus driver and his helperdidn't screamat her or humiliate her. This would not have happened at home. It is hard to believe that I with my weak stomach didn't join in with the puke brigade. Fortunately no one else did either. It could have been like in the movies where one person upchucks and then everyone else systematically joins in.

What I originally started to say is how much these men impacted me. They were kind, gentle, loving and caring. They never raised their voices. They talked to us like we mattered. They talked to us like we were human beings. They never belittled us or yelled at us. There were children on that bus that were not easy to be around, including my brother who was only used to getting negative attention. They were still respectful without being abusive to him or the other kids that were acting out.

I was amazed. I still think back so fondly on Brother Don and Brother Peffley. I also loved Dwight Roush, our school bus driver who was also very kind and loving to us. He always had a smile and a kind word for us. He had no idea what it was like for us behind closed doors at home. I have since had the chance to thank him for being such a good male role model for me.

Yesterday I saw Brother Don at the Memorial service for our friend's mother. I told him and his wife that Ididn'tthink that I could tell him this without crying, and Ididn't. I wanted him to know what a great male role model that he and Brother Peffley were to me. I told them that our house was one of violence and fear. His wife got tears in her eyes as I thanked him for what he did for me and for many others I am sure on that Sunday school bus.

I think that many times we do things because it is the right thing to do. Many times we do it expecting no reward for doing what we want to, or maybe even when we don't want to because we know it is what God wants us to do. I just want to thank those that have had such a positive impact on my life before it is too late. I am so glad that I took the risk to thank Brother Don, Brother Peffley, and dear Dwight Roush.

Take the time to thank those that have positively influenced your life today.