I came from a messed up family — dysfunctional in so many ways by today’s terms. And, to add insult to injury, I am now openly speaking about the days my parents introduced me to the word “drug” and they actually incorporated the “drugs” into my life at a very young age!

My childhood did not consist of methamphetamine, or crack, or even pot. But, I can tell you that I had some kind of “drug” put in my life most every day by my very own parents!

Can you believe I was drug to church every Sunday? I’m not just talking Sunday mornings, either! I was drug to Sunday night church, and Wednesday night bible study! I was drug to my elderly great-grandparents’ home every Sunday after church, too, where I had to sit and be quiet and “show respect” to my elders.

You want me to go on? Well, even if you don’t, I feel compelled to tell you how much they drugged me! I was drug to the kitchen sink every day, seven days a week, to wash the dishes. That was after I was drug to the chicken coop to milk the goats, water the horse, and gather the eggs from the hens. Oh, it doesn’t stop there! Then, I was drug to the cellar after school where I learned how to clean, weigh, and grade eggs. Yep, you guessed it! I was drug to the front room in the cellar (which was sparkling clean, I might add) where I had to wait on the egg customers, be polite, and never take a dime for doing my work. “You do this because we’re a family. We all help out. You need to learn from little up what it means to work to keep us together!”

I was drug to nursing homes, hospitals, and church plays to be a support and encouragement. I was drug to the homes of sick neighbors to help clean their houses and hang out their laundry on the clothesline. And, if I ever refused to do any of this, I would have been drug to the back bedroom where the wooden spoon was waiting, and it wasn’t waiting to ladle out the homemade soup! My butt felt the spoon on more than one occasion!

I often complained about my parents when I was growing up. They were tough. They were no-nonsense. They were old-school. And, they put drugs in my veins that still affect the way I act today. I’ve never had a hit of cocaine, crack, or heroin. I’ve never visited a meth lab, nor do I want to. I have drugs running through my veins that are way stronger, and more addictive, than anything you could ever grow in a field or mix in a lab.

God bless my parents and all those like them who thought it was best, and right, and good to drug their kids with a reverence and respect for God and all of His creation. I can only pray that I gave my own kids enough drugs to carry them through a lifetime, too!

Love and prayers,

Clara / Mom